The Christmas 'Denial Diet'

From 25 November:
"It's socially *expected* to accept any festive treats offered at work / a friend's / on supermarket displays."

Christmas nights out:
"It's actually rude to diet at a party and I'll probably dance off 2000 calories anyway."

24 December:
"Sod it. We're officially celebrating now."

25 December:
"I'm going to explode.... ooooh cheese!"

26 December:
"My family will be offended if I don't eat a bit of everything they offer / on this buffet table."

27 December:
"I can't be arsed cooking, let's get a take away."

28 December:
"I look like Jabba. Just salad from now on. Oh, but these mince pies go out of date tomorrow. We can't just throw food away."

29/30 December:
"Fuck it. I'll start a diet in the new year."

31 December:
"Final binge. Let's go out in style!"

1 January:
"I feel so rough... Only a bacon sandwich / McDonalds will cure me."

Dry January:

"Well if I'm not drinking, I'm eating cake."

21st Century Christmas Songs

I love Christmas songs, I really do. The carols, the pop songs, the kids songs. Pretty much all of them. So I thought I’d have some fun updating the lyrics of some classics from my Christmas playlist, so they feel more relevant to life as I know it now – as a knackered mother…

1. To the tune of ‘Santa Claus is coming to town’

You better watch out, she might start to cry

Can’t believe all the shit still to buy
We’re all on the Christmas count down

She’s making a list and checking it twice 

Goose fat and cranberry, carrots with spice

We’re all on the Christmas count down

She panics when she’s sleeping

She’ll soon jump wide awake

That present’s not arrived yet

Now she’s screaming “for fuck’s sake!”

Oh, you better watch out, get out of her way

Wrapping and cleaning and swearing all day

We’re all on the Christmas count down.

2. To the tune of ‘Last Christmas’ 

Last Christmas I sent loads of cards

But the postage I paid, just seemed such a waste

This year to save me some time

I’ll just post a pic on Facebook (Facebook) oh oh.

(Merry Christmas) I wrote them all and sent them

With a note saying “Love from…” and I meant it

But now you know, that you won’t get a card

You haven’t pissed me off, I haven’t lost your address.

Last Christmas I sent loads of cards

Now the postage I saved, will not go to waste

This year, to charity sent

So they can do something special (spe-e-cial).

3. Sing this one like Bing 

(Remembering Christmases when I lived with my parents and had no real responsibilities)

I’m dreaming of a boozy Christmas
Just like when I still lived at home
Where my mum did the shopping
So there’d be no stopping,
My after-work drinks and late night discos

I’m dreaming of a drunk Christmas

Before I had kids of my own

May your children sleep right through the niiiight

And may all your hangovers be light. 

4. And finally…
This is a real modern day Christmas song by my favourite comedian, Tim Minchin. I listen to this every year and it gets me every time.

It’s a beautiful song about his love of Christmas because it’s when his family comes together in Australia. Listen to the words (and maybe grab a tissue if you’re as sentimental as me!)…

https://youtu.be/fCNvZqpa-7Q

Whether you celebrate Christmas in the snow or the sun

Whether you are a dad, a sister, a brother, a mum

Whether you believe in Jesus or just the family traditions…

I hope your Christmas is magical, fun, sentimental and filled with love.

And perhaps Unbalanced for all the good reasons!

Merry Christmas xxx

Inspiration from Obama

Official White House photographer Pete Souza reveals his favourite photos of Obama

Full set of photos here:

http://9gag.com/gag/ajqEV90

Looking at these photos I found myself singing that Flash Gordon song - not the noisy 'Flash, Ah Ah. Saviour of the universe" part, but the slower bit of 'Just a man, with a man's courage".

I think these photos show why Obama has been so popular. Because whatever tough job he's had to do, he's shown us that he's also 'just a man' - a human that we can relate to.

He's not an unreachable, perfect, presidential superhero. He's shown all sides of himself: a person who can be joyful, fearful, compromised and totally fucked off - even this week, shaking hands with a man he clearly thinks is a total cockwomble!!

Just a man - a husband, a father, a team member, a friend. All of those things are just as important as 'a President'.

To me that's inspirational.

I'm a mum, a wife, a daughter, a friend, a colleague and an Unbalanced Woman who spouts out a load of crap in my blog. I'm far from perfect at any of them.

I'm not a superhero with one super power. I'm an Unbalanced Woman who does a million things as best she can. Like everyone does.

That's what these photos show me.

"Just a man

with a man's courage

He knows nothing but a man

But he can never fail.

No one but the pure of heart

may find the golden grail

Oh oh oh oh"

(Queen)

Therapy

Question: You're suffering from a long-term illness and working out the best treatment plan. What do you do when your Head-voice and your Heart-voice are at war in your head? When one is saying... 'Do it, do it!' and the other is saying “You stupid fuckwit of a woman - don't even think about it!"

Answer: Get yourself a therapist

This one is hard to write. I've been putting it off for a while. But as I started this blog as a sort of therapy, I always promised myself that I'd write honestly about the ACTUAL therapy I've had this year. So here goes....

When I became unwell last year, the hardest part of the initial journey was that I didn't know what was wrong with me. Lying in an MRI scanner and listening to the mechanical beeps for an hour, I was mentally writing my will and thinking about leaving my 5 year old boy without a mum. But once diagnosed (with a Vestibular Dysfuction*) I was able to concentrate on getting physically better. Knowledge is power as they say. Once I knew what I was dealing with, I could fight it.

*Vestibular Dysfuction - when the brain can't properly orientate and you feel constantly dizzy, sea-sick and can only move about slowly, looking as if you are seriously drunk - without actually drinking. It's shit!

For the next six months I had a goal, a plan and a belief that I could return to 'normal'. I made steady progress through Neuro Physio (re-training the brain to balance) and I could cope. I was absolutely determined to become me again, and be able to do everything I previously could.

Having that vision and that belief was, I'm sure, a contributor to me making such great progress.

So when I had a relapse in February and started getting worse again, I hit a new low - possibly worse than my first MRI, because I was back to having no knowledge. Now I was wondering if this was going to be an on-going cycle – did I have to accept that I may never get better? It hit me really hard. My Neuro Physio told me that I needed to come to terms with the fact that this could be it. Even with all the brain training, I may only ever be able to do 80% of what I could before. The idea of living with this illness forever was just heart breaking. The idea of not being able to do everything that I could normally do, and everything I had planned for my life, was overwhelming.

One thought kept coming back to me - Disney Land. It's been my dream for most of my life, and I've promised myself that I will go as soon as my boy is tall enough to go on all the big rides.

I couldn't accept it. Mentally, I just couldn't cope. Micky Mouse became a symbol of everything I was losing. The me I was losing. The me my family was losing and the limits that would put on them too. I lost my will to fight, and just became sad and angry. I didn't know whether I needed to keep fighting to get better, or to accept defeat and make new plans - ones that wouldn't ever involve Micky fucking Mouse. (I also started swearing a lot more, and taking my anger out on fictional mice!)

I realised that I needed help. My Neuro Physiotherapist was a wonderful woman helping me retrain my brain and make physical brain progress, but I needed help with the emotional side of my brain too. I needed to sort out how to THINK - how to DECIDE - how to KEEP GOING mentally.

So a made an appointment with a Counselling therapist, and it's possibly the best thing I ever did. To be honest, for the first 3 sessions, I really wasn't sure! I felt that she didn’t understand the problem. But to be fair to her, it was ME that didn’t understand my own emotions. I wasn't giving her the right details. I was still too angry at my situation. I was linking my physical condition and my mental state too closely together, I couldn't separate them - when I felt physically poorly I was sad, and when I felt physically OK I felt... well, OK, but overwhelmingly frustrated by my limitations.

The regular fight in my head was:

Physical Brain: I'm so tired. The more your push me, the more I need to rest. You can't do everything you used to - accept it; do less; enjoy the quieter life. Let's sit on the sofa and have a brew.

Emotional Brain: But that's not who I AM! I'm missing out on LIFE. I don't enjoy quiet, I NEED the variety, I need the party, I need to be who I WAS. 

My Emotional Brain thinks in shouty capitals a lot!

The break-through happened in my therapy session after I did the worse thing I could have possibly done as a person with balance issues - I went on a roller coaster. It was definitely an act of rebellion. I knew it was an absolutely stupid risk that could totally fuck up all the neuro-physio progress that I'd made. But I also felt that I was leading a restricted life, and it was breaking my heart. It was head versus heart, or my Physical Brain versus my Emotional Brain, and Emotional Brain was now calling the shots. It wanted to know what would happen, like a child pushing boundaries... I needed to know if the Disney dream was ever going to be achievable. 

I picked a day when all the circumstances were right - I was feeling reasonably good, I had people with me who could look after me if I crashed into a spinning nausea, I had the next 3 days off work if I needed to recuperate. I was still scared shitless though! Physical and Emotional brains were battling in my head as I queued up:

EB: It's the Dora the Explorer roller coaster, it's fine for a 6 year old - how bad can it be?

PB: You absolutely crazy fuckwit of a woman - there's a sign that says 'Not suitable for people with motion sickness' - that's an understatement for what you have!

But because I'm either feistily determined or stupidly stubborn (you can decide which), I did it. And it wasn't at all as bad as I expected. So... I went on three more, each progressively bigger and faster.

I'd love to say that was the moment when I realised I was better, but oh no, I just got the consequences later. Somehow the adrenaline must have kept me going, but later that day I was crying, and the next day I paid the price properly. I felt awful. I could hardly move off the sofa. I thought I'd broken myself and I had a new reason to be angry - at myself - for being a crazy fuckwit of a woman (PB: Well, I told you, didn't I?!) However, by the next day I felt a lot better, and the day after that, better again (EB: Ha. I knew it -it was worth the risk)

And this is where my therapist, Jeanette, comes in. She helped me realise that instead of being a straight battle between Physical and Emotional thoughts, I'd rather cleverly brought in a third voice in my head - 'Intellectual Brain'. IB was the one who made sure I took the risk at the right time, considered the consequences, and made sure I was ready. It sounds so simple, but she was right. She helped me to think about other times I'd used this third voice to make decisions, and that this was the voice I had learned to trust. I needed to listen to them all, but IB was like the mediator.

This was my turning point. I started to feel more positive about making decisions, taking risks, testing my physical limits in a sensible way, and keep my emotional side happy that I was making progress.

When Jeanette and I booked our last session I said that I wanted to do some drawings as a way of remembering what I'd learned, and to help me easily recall the concepts of balancing my physical, emotional and intellectual voices.

This is what I drew...

1. I need to stop looking back at who I was, and understand who I am now, and what I'm capable off. Being able to do 80% of what I could before may be true, but are there new things I can do too? If I'd lost a leg, I wouldn't try to grow it back! I'd work out how to live the best life I could with one leg.

2. My roller coaster rebellion taught me how to push my physical limits to allow me to have fun, but in a safe way.

3. I had felt restricted by my illness, like I had tethers holding me back. Jeanette helped me to see those more as a harness, which helped to keep me safe. And when I was seeking to push the boundaries I was using intellect to 'measure' how far I could go.

4. I finally accepted that resting is not lazy - it's essential. I can still do almost anything I want to as long as I accept that my body will pay the consequences, and I make time before and after to give it chance to do that.

Will I get to Disney Land one day? Yes, I absolutely will. Maybe not for a while yet, but I am still a determined / stubborn bitch, and I will not give up that dream. I know that it's possible, as long as I plan ahead, take sensible risks and make time for the consequences. 

Mickey, I'm coming to get you!

(Thank you Jeanette)

Eyes

"Eyes are the window of the soul"
My soul must be frigging knackered.

So why doesn't this soul get some more sleep?
Because it owns an Unbalanced brain that won't shut the fuck up about all the things it really needs to do today.

Brain: You've not read all those papers for that meeting tomorrow...
You really need to sort out selling your car before the MOT runs out...
Those pictures you bought 3 weeks ago are still leaning against the window...
Actually this whole house is a shit hole...
And you've not done any washing...
Do you realise you've not hit your 10,000 steps or 5 a day once this week. You'd better get outside at some point...
And buy fruit...
And you'd better do something nice with your child today because you're going to London for 2 days and won't see him....
And the cats need fleaing...

Soul: Fuck off brain. Give me a break. Can't you see how busy I am carrying these bags under my eyes?

Brain: Oh yes I most certainly can. You'd better go shopping and buy some Touche Eclat. You can't go to London looking like THAT.

Soul: f$•%*@wg~s

(My soul also has a foul mouth.)

Weird compliments

I have been complimented on two parts of my body that I've never thought of as compliment-able. I'm feeling quite smug.

They are my eyebrows and my cervix. Yep, I'm surprised too.

1. I have excellent eyebrows, just like Cara Delevigne apparently. I'm "so lucky" because others pay a fortune for high definition brow work.

Until recently I never knew that brows where something people even noticed, unless left to form a Gallagher-esque mono-brow.

Mine have only ever been a disappointment to me that I can't move them independently and give people that one raised eyebrow what-the-fuck?-face. How I covet that skill.

2. My second unexpected body brilliance is my 'obedient cervix'. I have been told this twice so I know it's a fact.

At a smear test I was told that most cervixes hide away and make it difficult to perform the test. But mine is 'well behaved' and pops straight into view. As if saying, "Hey there visitor. Welcome. Swab me? Of course. You're welcome."

So while they both might seem weird to me, if someone is handing out a body compliment I will take it. With relish.

And next time I admire another woman's pert bum or her ability to move gracefully into downward dog, I will not chastise myself.

I will think, "Her body is great. I've got *naturally* high definition eyebrows and an extrovert cervix, so yay both of us."

Past your prime

Signs you may be Past Your Prime

1. People more than a decade younger than you complain that they are getting old.

2. You get excited when you realise you have absolutely no plans for the next weekend.

3. You have to put your glasses on to pluck a hair out... of your chin!

4. People remake your favourite TV shows, films and music (and you are sure they are not as good you the original)

5. You make clothing decisions insisting, this is comfy AND stylish.

6. You talk to colleagues about really famous bands from your party days and they say 'who's that?'.

7. You wonder why someone asks "Are you OK?" when you stand up, and realise you groaned and put your hand on your back. But you're not even in pain.

8. Someone suggests you get involved in a roller blading party for kids, and you mentally scan your calendar to think what you'd miss if you ended up in plaster (or if a broken limb could be the perfect way to get out of something you don't want to do).

9. You have finally learned that you have a drinking limit, and it's possible to stop before you get totally shit-faced. (Who knew?)

10. Within an hour of getting up you're already thinking about what time you can go to bed.

Tapas Mum

Since going to see the film 'Bad Moms' I've been thinking about which stereotype of the mums I most relate to. Stay at Home Mum; Working Mum; Single Mum; Yummy Mummy etc etc. 

I've decided none of them sound quite right for me. So how about a new one... 

The Tapas Mum.

I've come to the conclusion that I've never 'wanted it all' as the phrase goes to describe those who want a perfect family, great career and to be a permanent Goddess in the bedroom and the kitchen. I've never quite believed in that!

I do like the idea of having just a taste of each though. A little bit of everything. Like choosing Tapas, instead of a massive portion of everything.

For example:

• I don't need to be a high-flying, top of my organisation, cracking-through-the-glass-ceiling role model career woman.
  But I do want a job that I enjoy and that I feel I'm pretty good at.
• I don't need to be perfectly turned out in full make-up and 4 inch heels whenever I leave the house.
  But I do want to feel good when I go out to nice places.
• I don't need a perfectly presented show home and a manicured lawn.
  But I do like to be able to relax down in the evenings without spearing my bum on a pile of toys or yogurt-smeared cushions.
• I don't expect to have weekly meet ups with my girls for cocktails, dinner and dancing.
  But I do enjoy the occasional chance to get together with a friend or two for a brew or a shit-load of wine.
• I don't need a pre-planned date night and a massive bunch of flowers delivered on a whim.
  But I do appreciate the times we get to go out and be a couple in a kid-free / no judgement, adult environment.
• I don't expect my kid to be an Olympic-level athlete, mastermind of science or musical prodigy.
  But I do want him to have nice manners, have enough confidence to have a go at stuff and laugh a lot.
• I am never EVER going to be Nigella Lawson, in cooking skills or body confidence.
  But I will occasionally make a nice family meal that tastes half decent and give my husband a snog by the sink. Sexy!
• I most certainly don't bake delicious pastries for the school summer fayre.
  But I do show up, donate a load of supermarket-bought chocolate for the tombola, and happily hand over every coin in my purse for the lucky dip. I even buy and eat the cakes that other people have made (that's really not a chore, I really love the school fayre!)

Being a Tapas Mum is pretty great. So what do you say... can we create a new stereotype?

No make-up?

Oh dear. I've just had to have a word with myself!

I read this article about people's reactions to Alicia wearing no make-up to a red carpet event and I had 3 thoughts within a split second...

1. Good for her
2. How dare people judge her
3. I couldn't do it. Surely she could have got away with some mascara!!

And it's the last one that shocked me. Why do I feel like that? Who set the rule that I feel I have to follow?

Now first of all, let's be clear. I don't go to red carpet events very often. OK, ever. And actually I'm not a big make-up wearer at the best of times. But there are days when I feel I NEED to wear it.

Last night for example. I had a hospital appointment at 7pm. I was working at home during the day so it was scruffy clothes and bare face. But I felt the need to slap a bit on to go to see a doctor. For fucks sake, why?

I remember thinking, "I look rough". So foundation, mascara, lipstick and suddenly I feel ready. Ready for what? Did I think the doctor would give me different test results if I look less rough??

Of course it's ridiculous.

And yet, tomorrow when I go to London to a big meeting, I will definitely wear make-up because I do feel more confident when I feel I look nicer.

Is that wrong?

I totally support any woman's decision to go make-up free or to contour the fuck out of their face. Whatever makes you happy. Men too.

I am questioning why people even need to talk about it. Why do people feel the need to support or condone Alicia by commenting on Twitter. Is the point she's making that it's not important what anyone else thinks?

I don't know. Ultimately I don't care. My test results were all clear, so clearly wearing make-up worked for me!

http://indy100.independent.co.uk/article/alicia-keys-didnt-wear-makeup-to-the-vmas-and-got-publicly-shamed-for-it--WJQOIng57dW

Pay it forward

A waitress in Wagamama just made me cry!
To clarify: it was in a good way with a really lovely act of kindness.

I've been shopping in the Trafford Centre which has one of those massive dining areas with lots of fast food options round the edge. I really didn't fancy a McDonalds or a Spud-u-Like, or fighting for a seat, or being glared at for taking up a table for 4 when it's just me. You get the picture. So I decided to treat myself and go to Wagamama. I love their food and their smoothies and it was relatively quiet. But usually I find eating alone takes a bit of courage, or at least a book to hide behind!

I was feeling brave enough but once seated I started to feel that self-conscious urge to get my phone out so I don't have to look at anyone or acknowledge my lone-eater status.

Then I decided not to give in to that uncomfortable tradition. Instead to be confident and just really enjoy my food and surroundings. And I really did. It was kind of liberating to just relax and smile and think for a while, and not care about anyone else.

When it came time to pay my bill I got talking to my waitress about eating alone and how she also tends to hide behind a laptop or a book. I told her about this blog, where I talk about worrying less and me trying not to care what other people think so much. She was so supportive and said that she'd have a look at the blog and that she'd like to pay for my meal.

I was absolutely gobsmacked!! You hear about these lovely acts of kindness but now it's happened to me it made me tear up.

I went back to her as I was leaving and thanked her again and she said, no problem just pay it forward.

So then I've been finishing my shopping and wondering how to do that. How could I pay that kindness foward. Eventually the answer felt obvious, to find another woman eating on her own, congratulate her for having the confidence to enjoy a meal for one, and buy her lunch for her.

So that's what I've just done. And a lovely lady called Christine in Yo Sushi was kind enough to accepted my gesture. (I should add that approaching a woman on her own and offering to buy her lunch is also a tad nerve wracking!! I hope you weren't too frightened by me Christine!)

She's agreed that she will also pay it forward to another lone-eater. I hope she does, and I hope whoever that lady is will feel how I feel right now... That as Unbalanced as we may all be sometimes, women (and men!) are usually kind and supportive of each other. Whether it's a random act of kindness, a compliment or just a simple smile, we can really make someone's day.

So here's to enjoying a meal for one. And here's to all the wonderful people out there who've created a random act of kindness. I'm looking at you Liz, my lovely Wagamama waitress. Thank you!!

If you've been involved in a Random Act of Kindness or Pay It Forward type of thing, I'd love to hear about it. Please tell me.

UPDATE: Christine got in touch! 

" I was the lucky recipient of lunch!!!! I was so touched by the gesture - it really really made my day!! It was great to meet you and thank you once again. I paid the act of kindness forward and bought a mum and son on the next counter an afternoon tea cakey treat. They were as thrilled as I was and promised to keep the chain going. Thanks again - you were a little ray of sunshine for me today xx "

What a lovely day.

Starting School

My top tips for parents with kids starting school.

You've done all the practical stuff and your little one is ready their first day at school. But this is just the beginning, and YOU need to be prepared for what comes next.

Here are a few things I wasn't expecting:

1. Uniform and shoe destruction
Treasure those cheesy photos of your kid's first day at school (mandatory that they are standing by a door - why is that?). Soon you'll look back and realise that was the last time your kid looked remotely smart.

School uniforms seem to soak up everything. By the first half term those clothes will be stained, stretched, washed-out colours and may have the odd hole. And if you have a boy who keeps the same shoes for more than a term you have my respect. Fuck knows what they do in the playground but it destroys leather.

2. Kids can't remember ANYTHING
You'll be desperate to hear about their day but don't be surprised if after a few days, your kid (who you usually can't shut up), decides that their only response to all questions is "I can't remember", even when they are still within the fucking school gates.

They may remember what they had for lunch.
That's all you get.

3. You need to remember EVERYTHING
You'd better have a good memory or a good note-taking system because on the rare occasions your kids do tell you about their day  they expect you to remember every detail.

There's an army of people now at the centre of their universe that you have never met. As well as their Teacher and around 30 kids you could hear stories about the Head, Deputy, Teaching Assistants, lunch time supervisors, people who come in to do sports activities, people who come in to hear readers and all sorts more. You will not have a frigging clue who is who. Just smile and nod.

Then throw in remembering when they need a PE kit, a costume, a prize for the raffle, money for Children in Need, blah blah blah, and your brain may start to spin.

You won't be alone. The playground is full of parents working out how they can make an acceptable Easer Bonnet from things they can find in their kitchen drawer, before the parade happens at 11 o'clock. We're all in this together. It's fine.

4. Your new weekend schedule
Parents struggle to establish a clear etiquette for who to invite to their kid's birthday party, and many resort to inviting the whole class. Yes, it's not only teachers who have to cope with 30 little angels, you do too. And at parties they add sugar!

There are so many of these parties you may start to say that classic cliche of "My kids have a better social life than I do!" and then cry into your Chuckle Chimps Play Centre coffee cup when you realise that it's not just a saying, it's the fucking truth.

5. Biff and Chip
These are characters in a very common reading scheme. You must NOT giggle at the innuendo of character names when your child is earnestly concentrating on phonetic domination.

Whilst you can revel in the magic of your kid learning to read (and it is magic, because English words just don't follow the rules), it's OK to acknowledge the mind numbing boredom you may feel when you child brings home 29 books in a row where the most exciting thing to happen is 'Pat ran' and 'Sam sat'.

6. Labelling EVERYTHING
Once you've labelled everything they wear you can be nice an smug. No way suckers! There's always more.

Taking in 'show and tell' stuff, a costume for the Christmas play, a cake tin filled with 'home baked' goods for the Summer fair, etc etc. If you want it to come back you have to label it.

Get some sticky labels and a permanent marker and learn to write on very small things in very small writing. If you've given your kids long names, this is where you'll start shortening them.

7. A house full of 'Art'
If you thought baby toys had ruined your beautiful adult house, get ready for this shit storm of craft-based crap. They glue, write, draw and model most days, and the best if it gets stapled to a classroom display, while the rest is brought home to you, full of pride and a desire to turn every wall and surface of your home into a gallery of their masterpieces.

They also get school projects that you, yes you, have to help them with. And school encourage you to 'be as creative as you like'. Brilliant if you are a crafty type. Sheer, glue-filled hell if you are not.

My advice. Get a big box, call it a 'special school memories box' and dump all that shit straight in there. Perhaps in a couple of years you can look back at it with teary emotions, or just laugh at the memory of how a stick with a piece of string cellotaped to it's middle was supposed to represent their favourite character from a book. If only either of you could remember which book. Very unlikely it was Biff or Chip anyway.

Running

  Sweaty High Five!

This is my very VERY sweaty face after my first run in over a year (since my vestibular dysfunction*). I only chuffing well did it didn't I? So I'm giving myself a high five.

This is one of the final steps in getting back to normal, ie everything I was able to do before I got poorly.

Yep I only did 3.5km, and yes I did walk a bit (bit only a bit up a hill!) but it's the beginning and I'm proud of myself. I'm actually a bit teary, because I did better than I expected. Absolutely no dizziness.

I've been meaning to try running again for a while but wasn't sure I was ready. Then this morning I saw Melanie Sykes on The Saturday Show talking about how she wants to keep herself healthy to look after her kids. Her version was to quit drinking, which I'm rubbish at these days anyway, but it felt like the final push for me to get out there and try the running again. I'm so glad I did.

So Melanie, thank you for the final push to get me started.
Brain, thank you for learning to rebalance.
Legs, I look forward to feeling the pain later
And Vestibular Dysfunction, Fuck you. I'm kicking your arse!!

If you don't know what Vestibular is I wrote a blog about it a while ago.
BLOG: Literally Unbalanced

Reading this again now is surreal because I realise how much of a recovery I've made in the last few months. Now I'm really emotional. Happy.

Offended

Those who know me will tell you that I'm not easily offended. But watching Channel 4's new dating show, 'Naked Attraction' made me feel like Mary Whitehouse.

If you haven't seen the show, the idea is that a single person gets to see six potential mates before choosing one to go on a date. The difference, (of course you can see what's coming - not a pun... yet) is that the contenders are all naked. And there's actual science bits where graphics and a voice-over explains why our primitive brain is naturally wired to find certain attributes, such as strong thighs, to be attractive to those seeking a mate.

So far I'm OK. This could actually be interesting I thought. I bit like Big Brother when it first started. If I go beyond the obvious voyeurism, this could be psychological education. It's not Channel 5 after all.

Each of the contestants is behind a different colour screen and henceforth known as 'Green' or 'Pink' etc. The screens then reveal the naked people from the bottom up, starting with waist-down, full-frontal glory.

The episode I saw was a male Picker, was choosing from six female colour-coded Contestants. The screen goes up and we are now eye level with an assortment of Minge-Masterpieces. I say this because they were all fully groomed and presented in different coloured frames. None of these ladies was showing off her natural, bushy Lady Garden. Not even a well manicured lawn. Five of them were completely bald, and I would describe Number 6 as having 'a neat gravel border'. I commend her for at least acknowledging there was once a garden there.

And now we approach the part where I got offended. The host asked the picker what he thought, and he liked what he saw. In fact he pointed out the gravel and said "That's as much hair as I allow".

There are many words that went through my head at that point and most of them have the same meaning as Lady Garden but have fewer letters.

What an absolute.... xxxx!

Funnily enough there was no mention of science or primitive attraction during this section. But I had a primitive urge to tie a very tight knot in his garden hose.

I thought we'd moved beyond judging people by what they look like, but apparently not, if people are prepared to openly admit to mentally rejecting a person based on the amount of grass (or gravel) on their front lawn.

I wont be watching again. I can only imagine Cilla turning in her grave.

Holiday Packing

Packing for a holiday: Me vs my husband

Me...

One week before holiday

• Start mentally packing, putting things to one side in my wardrobe

3 days to go

• Start wearing old crap underwear so I can save my least grey stuff for packing (not sure why I need to to only take my best knickers away).
• Become laundry obsessed. Even more than usual. Everything must be washed NOW in case I decide to pack it. 
• Pack my toiletries bag.
  

2 days to go

• Freak out because I'm going to a party tonight and nothing in the 'won't be taking these away' section of my wardrobe seems acceptable. Try on everything in the hope that it has suddenly become suitable. 
• Go shopping and get over excited by 'Travel Sized' bottles of everything. Spend 10 minutes deliberating if it's OK to buy 50ml versions for £1 when 200ml is £1.50. Find empty travel bottles in the next aisle. They are also £1.50. Kick myself for being so indecisive. Return to mini bottles and and buy mini everything. 
• Buy a new pair of shoes I don't really need.
  

Day before holiday

• Choose the clothes I definitely want to take, attempting to achieve the coveted 'capsule' set where everything goes with everything (who am I kidding?). 
• Limit myself to 3 pairs of shoes, including the new ones. 
• Try on every outfit to make sure it goes with one of the 3 pairs of shoes.
• Decide on my travelling outfit and hang it on my wardrobe door. 
• Pat myself on the back for being decisive and limiting myself. I have NOT overpacked.
  

Morning of holiday

• Spot things in the ironing pile that I could probably squeeze in. That top is a bit nicer than the one I packed. It's only one top. Oh but if I take that I'll need to pink shoes. That's just one more pair of shoes. 
• Repeat two more times
• Mentally shout at myself for over packing. 
• Accept it and move on. I am the boss of me. 
• Happy. 

My husband...

Morning of holiday

• Put on some clothes. 
• Pack whatever else is in his wardrobe that he fancies taking. 
• Grab any toiletries he fancies taking. 
• Happy. 

I think he's got it right really.

Festival Mum

Parent Dilemma. You want to go to a music festival. Should you take your small offspring? Is it still a proper festival experience if you might not see all the bands you want to and you don't get slowly shit-faced?

This has been a tough one since I became a mum. It sounds amazing to integrate something you love from pre-parent days into family life. But is that realistic for us?

I have heard of many parents who throw a tent and wellies in the back of the car and head off for a mud and music filled adventure. I'm guessing that they are the types of families who love camping trips anyway. We are not. Or more specifically, I am not.

Since going camping with the Guides aged 12 I learned that it only takes two days for my curly hair to turn into a Medusa-like state without the aid of a power shower. I also like my own toilet.

So for the past few years I've just not bothered, instead choosing to watch on the red button, with a brew and my slippers on.

But now my Unbalanced Man plays guitar in a band that are getting invited to play at these festivals. So I want to go even more. Would 6 year old Joe enjoy watching Daddy play? Probably, for about 20 minutes from past experience. But, if you give him a choice between time at Granny's where he can have bacon butties and ice-cream on tap, or being taken from tent to tent watching all the weird and wonderful artists perform songs that are NOT recognisable tunes from Disney and Pixar films, there's no contest.

So that's the answer then. Weekend at Granny's, and off we go.

But uh-oh, here comes Mum Guilt. I absolutely hate sodding Mum Guilt.

"Going off having fun on your own are you?
Drinking are you?
Don't think I've forgotten that you were away without him last weekend,
AND working away the week before that.
Look at THOSE parents who've brought their children.
Look how much fun the kids are having.
Joe would LOVE jumping on hay bails with them.
They are GOOD parents who REALLY love their kids."

I tell you what Mum Guilt, you can absolutely fuck right off. Yes, perhaps Joe would have enjoyed BITS of the weekend, but probably not the whole of it. Instead, we've had an amazing weekend as a couple. Joe is back, more than happy and of course, full of ice cream. Next week Ste has another gig but I'm not going, and the week after we're setting off on a family holiday. So everyone is happy. You might even say it's all balanced as it should be.

Festival-ing wasn't the same as pre-parent days. We managed to stay up till the early hours on the first night, but didn't get anywhere near shit faced, and on the second we came home early and were in bed way before midnight.

So I'll accept that I'm not full-on Rock and Roll, but I had a wonderful time. And I did go to bed with that guitar player!!

Unbalanced Equality

This weekend Tim Lovejoy was interviewing Kelis on Sunday Brunch and said,
"I'm a dad. I look after my kids 50% of the time but no-one ever asks me, 'How do you juggle career and children?'. But... How do you juggle career and children!!"

Tim Lovejoy - gets it spot on

Yes Tim! Exactly that. Why do interviewers (or the people who write the questions for them) think that when interviewing a woman who has a job and small children, then this is an essential question? And yet when interviewing a man in the same situation, they don't.

This is a question that I've pondered for a while, and I have become quite frustrated that it appears to still be considered a 'Women's issue'. It really pisses me off.

But I also want to add another point .... It's not just parents, and it's not just workers that need to juggle or balance their lives.

There seems to be a magic equation of :
Woman + Kids + Job = "How do you find a balance?"

I started my Unbalanced Woman blog a while back because I was having to make some changes to get my balance right. And it struck me that all types of people feel they are trying to juggle or balance lots of different things in their lives. Not just when they have kids. People feel 'Unbalanced' for many different reasons. In my blog I consciously talk about some elements of being a mum, some of having a job, and some about totally different things. That's MY life equation and my (happily) busy and Unbalanced life.

I know plenty of people with different life equations who are equally busy and therefore may sometimes feel 'Unbalanced':

Man + Job + Parents needing care = Juggler
Woman + Kid + Another Kid = Juggler
Woman + Illness + Part-Time Job = Juggler
Woman + Retired + Grandparent child care + Social commitments = Juggler

Many of these things are wonderful aspects of our lives, but they still need juggling. And when we can't find a balance we ask for help, or we strap on our boots and crack on as best we can, accepting that sometimes we drop a ball or occasionally we totally fuck everything up.

So I'm with Tim - if we think it's important to ask working mums how they balance their lives, let's give equal interest to working dads, non working parents and non-parenting adults.

Or just join me in accepting that 'Unbalanced' is a way of life, for all types of people, and it's to be celebrated.

#UnbalancedSolidarity

I'm a hypocrite

I came across a school paper this week that set out a series of rules that should be completed each day 'before you turn on the screen'. It included:

• made your bed
• had breakfast
• dressed, brushed your hair and brushed your teeth
• completed 20 minutes of reading AND 20 minutes of writing or colouring AND played outside for 30 minutes AND made or built something creative
• cleaned a room 
• helped someone in your family in another way

My first thought was, "Jesus Christ!", and my second was to quickly check if these rules are intended for the adults or just the kids. I would physically harm anyone who tried to make me follow these rules. Not really, but I would call them some rather disgusting names. In my head. I'm a coward really.

But it made me think… do I set rules for my kids that I don't follow myself?

First of all, let's tackle the screen time one. I spend the majority of my day looking at a screen, for work, for communication and for entertainment. I think there are few people left who don't multi-screen - watching TV while intermittently checking messages and social media on our phones.

It's rare that I won't have looked at a screen before completing any of the first three things on the list. Often I look at my phone before I've even got out of bed!

We live in the digital age and, here's the point, so do our children.  Reading a story or watching a story - who gets to say which is better? I love books, theatre, film and TV, and blogs, let's not forget blogs. They are all just telling stories. We recognise Shakespeare as the ultimate writer, but let's remember that the majority of his celebrated work was written as plays - for people to WATCH. Could TV and film and even You-Tube arguably be considered as just 'modern theatre'.

My boy has just shown me a Spiderman world he's created in MineCraft, with pants-wetting excitement and pride because he's worked out how to build something he's not done before.

Is he being creative? - tick

Using logic, intellect and tenacity? - tick

Writing and colouring? - (in computer code) tick

Social skills - tick. He has friends who share his passionate hobby and they discuss ideas and teach each other new skills. 

So why do screens get such a bad rep? "Because of risks to eyesight, posture, lack of exercise" my argumentative brain cries. OK, all fair points. We have to watch those, for kids AND adults in the digital age. But my brain's back with a counter-argument: is that different to when we had to learn from all the back and lung problems people had in the industrial age when manual labour, like working in a  mill or a mine, was the norm?

So I do watch what my boy does, and try to make sure there's a balance of activities and responsibilities. The same as I try to make sure he gets enough exercise, sleep and healthy food. I admit I'm absolutely guilty of being more bothered about those rules for him than I ever apply to myself, which makes me a total hypocrite. He eats better, sleeps longer and gets more exercise than I ever do. 

I think I might just cut him some slack on the screen time.

Slow Down?

There's a song and video doing the rounds called 'Slow Down'. Apparently Mothers around the world are hailing it the best song ever made. Accompanied by a compilation of videos of children playing, smiling with their parents and siblings and showing beautiful memories of everything in a perfect childhood.  

The message is clear, "time with your children moves so fast". 

Everyone gushing how they sobbed when they watched. But I didn't. I'm clearly a cold-hearted freak. Am I missing an essential mothering gene? 

I get the message - there are plenty of 'blink and you miss it' phases of raising a child. I'm just not feeling the sentiment with quite the same emotion, for two reasons:

1. The stages the singer wants to Slow Down weren't that fucking picture-perfect in reality

2. My experience so far tells me that actually it just gets better. So bring on the future! 

I can honestly say that every age my Ginger Boy has been so far, has been my favourite. When he was a new born baby, I remember people saying that babies are boring until they start to talk and show some personality. I was absolutely outraged! Had they not met MY baby? My completely gorgeous, expressive baby whose gurning face made me laugh every single day? 

But of course, as he grew in size and expression, I have to admit, babies are pretty damn boring compared to what comes next. And while I cherish all those memories of me bursting with love as his tiny fingers wrapped around mine, they are also entwined with memories of a period of no sleep, a mini breakdown and phoning friends asking how long this period of crying through the night (him and me) would last. 

I most certainly did not want that time to Slow Down!

Last week my friend made a sad face because her youngest is now potty trained. I was amazed that this was not a celebratory event. She explained that it signifies he's growing up and he's not a baby anymore. Apparently many people feel the same way when their kids hit a significant milestone. 

I get it (I think), but again I was left thinking that I must have a heart of stone. When we reached that stage there was absolutely no mourning period. All I felt was a joyous realisation in a garden centre that when Ginger Boy told me he needed a poo, I was no longer required to perform the obligatory shit-sniff before taking my toddler into a disabled toilet, lay him out on a plastic tray, stinky end nearest my face, and hold his windmill-propelled legs away from my head with one elbow, to stop me being hit in the face by a shoe, a wet wipe or, let's get real... actual shit. It never EVER occurred to me that I might look back on that phase with anything more than a vague fondness for the comedy shit related memories. I certainly don't 'miss it'!

And that's how I feel about life, not just motherhood. Life phases are amazing. I don't mourn for any of them or want them to Slow Down because there's always something else ahead to look forward to. 

For example:

• 'School days are the best of your life'. Yes they are but.... I couldn't wait to grow up and be old enough to go to the pub
• The butterflies in your tummy for a first kiss are fantastic. But... Look at what comes later (sex obvs!) - a long term intimacy that's well worth moving on from those butterflies
• My single, party days were amazing. But.... then I got to meet my husband. 

Does my practical attitude mean I'm cold? Maybe. Should I take the video's advice and Slow Down? Perhaps. The good phases and the bad phases and everything in between, all move fast. Thankfully I have a good memory and about 1000 photos to help me remember the good bits (I never took any photos of the poo windmill in action, so maybe I'll forget those bits. Maybe that's not a bad thing). 

I guess in summary....  I'm thankful for where we've been so far, happy with where we are now, and excited about where we might go to tomorrow. I don't want to slow down OR speed up. I'm just grateful to be on this roller coaster of a parenthood ride.