Sunday, 24 April 2016

Week 239- jogging, eating Twirls and getting lapped by an 80-year-old...

I’ve started running.

I’m a runner.

That sounds loads better than ‘I’m a mild jogger who keeps getting lapped in the park by a guy who must be kicking on 80.’

My ‘thinspiration’ was by daughter asking for the millionth time if I had a baby in my tummy.

I did.

I told her.

Two years ago.

‘Then why’s it still so big?’

I love that girl but sometimes she’s one question away from a headlock.

So, I thought, maybe now, NOW, as the scales of time tip slightly closer to 40 that 35 (poetic way of saying 38 this year) I should consider getting fit for the first time in my life.

So I considered it.

And considered it.

And after polishing off the rest of the kids’ Easter eggs, Googled ‘getting fit.’

Don’t do that unless you want to scroll through 37 million options.

And then I remember an App my mate had told me about. I couldn’t remember the name, but it was something about being bothered to get off the sofa to get out the house.

So I Googled that instead.

And found it. An NHS podcast called ‘Couch to 5k’.

Now, I have never been fit EVER. I don’t mean that in a ‘I’ve never won a race before’ or ‘I find it difficult to smash my PB at swimming.’

I mean I joined a gym to sit in their sauna.

I used to go to a spinning class cos I liked the music and would free wheel for 30 minutes.

In fact I’d prefer the indignity of wrapping myself in cling film and sitting in 40 degrees to lose weight than putting on a tracksuit.

But I thought I’d give it a go.

My running outfit was questionable at best. A pair of trainers I bought from TK Maxx about twenty years ago, the leggings I wore whilst pregnant with Thomas and a T-shirt I wear in bed. But at least I have a sports bra I was given for free when me, my mum and sister did the Moonwalk 10 years ago in London.

Sporting a pair of self-consciously massive headphones I headed out the house, and pressed play.

Now, the first thing I liked was that it was a woman narrating it.

The second thing was she was northern.

And the third was she told me how brilliant it was I was doing this before I’d even started.

Win, win and winaroo.

Week one- I ran for a minute intermittently three times a week.

Ignore the fact I was only running for a minute at a time- and read the bit that said I did it THREE times.

That’s right. The woman who spends the whole of a yoga class waiting for the guided meditation at the end to have a quick nap, has dragged her sorry ass out of the house THREE times in a week.

I couldn’t understand how my brain had over-ridden the urge to crack open the Merlot the moment the children had gone to bed and see if Michelle snogs her childhood love in Corrie.  



How, after nearly four decades of lethargy was I suddenly running?

(RUNNING! Paaaaah! I wish you could see me; yesterday a woman carrying three heavy Sainsbury’s bags overtook me. But my legs are DEFINETELY moving faster than when I walk.)

I think of myself as an independent, motivated woman.

But it turns out, what I actually need is someone telling me EXACTLY what to do.

When to run. When to stop. How brilliant I am for doing both.

I haven’t seen any major changes.

This may be partially due to increasing the number of Twirls I’ve been eating to reflect the number of runs I’ve been on.

But never mind. According to the women, I should, by week nine, be running 5k effortlessly three times a week.

So look out world. In two months time I’m going to be a machine.

And to my daughter…

In your face, little one.

Sunday, 17 April 2016

Week 238- bribing, brushing your teeth and being the boss...

 Thomas has started to string a sentence together.

By a sentence I mean  ‘no thank you’

Which he uses with growing frequency.

‘Shall we get you in the bath?’

‘No thank you.’

‘Do you want to brush your teeth now?’

‘No thank you.’

‘Time for bed?’

‘No thank you.’

‘Can you eat one thing on your plate, just one thing? I genuinely don’t care if it’s a single baked bean, but seriously, you NEED TO EAT SOMETHING.’

‘No thank you.’

So that’s a bit annoying.

Only made worse by his other phrase.

Which is ‘go away.’

HE’S NEARLY TWO FOR FUCKS SAKE!

How is it that someone so titchy is totally the boss of me?

I know the job of a parent is to guide and support and protect and blah blah blah…

But actually I just want him to like me and think I’m the coolest person in the entire world.

IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR?

So. I can either be patient. Wait for him to learn some more words, preferably slightly more positive ones.

But in the words of the little guy himself.

No thank you.

I will, instead resort to the age-old tactic of bribery.

I will mainline him with Bear Yoyos and Pom-Bears until he starts saying ‘yes please!’





Sunday, 10 April 2016

Week 237- holidays, John Humphrys and serial question askers...

Easter holidays, eh?

They go on for approximately forever.

The indoor Easter Egg hunt at my sister’s house on Easter Sunday feels like it took place about a hundred years ago.

Asking someone what they did for Easter Sunday now would be about as annoying as people wishing you a Happy New Year when you go back to work on January 6th and you think, ‘mate, shut up and get over it.’

But we’re officially stiiiiiiiiiill on Easter break.

My daughter has turned into a serial question asker in the last 14 days.

They come thick and fast, and there’s no obvious link between any of them so you’re totally caught off guard.

There’s no Mastermind-esque specialist subject.

It’s like:

‘Why shouldn’t I pick my nose if it gets it clean?’

‘When do we die?’

‘Do carrots have sugar in them?’

‘What’s ham made of?’

‘Why are poos brown?’

WTF?

Sorry contestant- you’re out of time.

My brain runs on about 1.5 cylinders at the best of time, and now I have my own personal John Humphrys with an exhaustive list of questions on a no-holes-barred list of topics.

Does anyone ACTUALLY know for sure if a pig is aware it is going to be turned into bacon?

Or who chose to name beef- beef?

I thought work was tough, but it is a piece of piss compared to this.

So my thoughts go out to the nursery staff tomorrow.

Good luck guys.

I’m going to take it easy tomorrow with a full on day of catching up with a bulging inbox and an unmanageably long to-do list.

Where as you, YOU, have to answer the pressing life questions generated by an inquisitive four-year-olds brain.


BIG FAVOUR TO ASK

OK- so I know I keep asking for nominations for awards BUT…

Please can you vote for me in the Brilliance in Blogging Awards in the Writer category- the link is: https://www.surveymonkey.co.uk/r/BiBs2016Nominations

Blog Name- You Can Take Her Home Now…
Blog URL - http://www.youcantakeherhomenow.co.uk
Blogger’s Twitter ID- annajefferson
Blogger’s email annajefferson78@yahoo.co.uk
Why do you feel this blogger deserves to win the Writer award? BECAUSE IT’S ACE (or your own reason…)
URL of your favourite post from this blog- whatever you rec.


Deadline is April 13. MASSIVE THANKS x

Monday, 28 March 2016

Week 235- chocolate, over-eating and elasticated-waisted trousers...

Sorry for the lag of blog this week- I’ve been lying in an Easter egg induced coma, having eaten the majority of my children’s chocolate.

For their own good.

Of course.

So it’s car-crash TV and elasticated-waisted trousers for me this eve.

When did I get so grown-up and glamorous?

And when did The Bachelor get so good?






Is it OK to sleep on the sofa when you can't physically move from over-eating?

And what do I say to my children when they enquire where ANY of their Easter eggs are?

Wow.

If I wasn't me...

I'd want to be me. 


PS If you enjoy reading my blog, I’d be made up if you could vote for me in the MAD blog awards 2016 in the Best Writer category. The link is here. If you don't- no wozzers*

*Total wozzers. 





Sunday, 20 March 2016

Week 234- the MAD blog award nominations have opened...

So- it’s that time of year again- The MAD blog award nominations.



I started writing this blog in 2011 not long after I gave birth to my daughter, Nancy.

I don’t know whether she’s going to look back on it when she’s older and think it’s a totally brill thing, an insight into her early years and how her mum adjusted to having a tiny baby.

Or she’s going to kill me when she realises I’ve documented when she shit-kicked me in the face.

Or how I still piss myself now when I sneeze.

Or how utterly terrified I was when she was born.

How scared I was to be in charge of a brand new life.

And how immediately and fiercely I loved her.

And now she has a little brother, Thomas, who is a completely different child.

Who challenges me everyday.

Who draws all over his grandparent’s white sofa with a black permanent marker.

But who can get away with murder when he gives you a face-grabbing, snot-rubbing, smacker on the lips.

And how I can only ever think of the two of them as my team.

Because if I think I have two children it feels so unbelievably grown up- like someone else’s life.

Thanks so much for reading my blog.

If you enjoy it, I’d be made up if you could vote for me in the MAD blog awards in the Best Writer category. The link is here.

And tell your mates too- because it’s all about the votes.

Massively big thanks in advance.
x