It’s been a long time since my last blog post. There have been so many things I’ve wanted to write about, but simply not been able to come up for air. Like Microtoes being baptised (when Tinytoes gazed intently at the vicar before dipping her chubby hand into the font and splashing water onto her own forehead…) Or when Tinytoes turned two and was given a tour of a fire station (by a rather astonished fireman who had clearly never given a tour to someone so young).
I’ve been too busy to write, because I’ve been juggling. Not literally juggling (that would be a bit weird..). I’ve been trying to do other things besides being a mother of two tiny people. It’s not that I’ve been oblivious to how full-on it is with the relentless breastfeeding, nappy changing, playing, singing, clothes washing, cooking, cleaning and tidying. Far from it. Half of me just wants to be ‘lazy’ and stay at home doing all of the above.
But the other half of me realises that if I’m able to do ‘non-mummy’ activities, such as going for a run, seeing friends or continuing to run my own marketing business then, although its uses up more energy, it lifts my spirits and gives me a different purpose. I return from a run feeling revived, refreshed and with renewed stamina to face the wrath of a grumpy two-year old or the cries of an overtired baby that won’t settle. And winning over a new client gives me a new purpose: the buzz of satisfaction inherent in growing a business (as well as two small children…) And seeing friends is just, well, nice.
To stay motivated I set myself a challenge of running 2km when Microtoes was 2 months old, 3km when she was 3 months old and so on and so forth. That way I wouldn’t be running a marathon until she was precisely 3 years and 6 months old. It was all going beautifully to plan; by the time Microtoes turned 4 months I was running 4 km two or three times a week. Either at the weekend, or my mother would come by midweek and watch Microtoes for 20 minutes or so. Work I squeezed in as and I when I could; which was becoming increasingly tricky as Microtoes began to nap less in the daytime.
Things came to a head just before Christmastime. We had two trips planned (since before I was even pregnant) – one to France to stay with my family and one to Spain to stay with DaddyO’s family – and both within the space of two weeks. I had been apprehensive prior to leaving. Holidays with extended family aren’t terribly relaxing at the best of times and travelling with two small children, one of which developed bronchiolitis the eve of going to France, meant I was even more on edge about being out of my comfort zone.
I won’t go through all the ins and outs of the trips – maybe save some of the more humorous travelling highlights for another blog post. The day we were due to France, however, I was trundling my suitcase along at Gatwick airport and I felt my left knee give way. I don’t know if it was because I had been running that morning or just one of those things that happen now I’m the ripe old age of 38. When I got back from France the osteopath told me I’d damaged my meniscus cartilage. No running for 6 weeks.
Once I’d got over the shock of not being allowed to run, I actually felt a sense of relief. I had clearly been doing too much in a bid to remind myself of some of the (tamer) thrills from my previous life. Of course I’ve missed the endorphins, but after my body stopped running I began to realise how desperately tired and tense I was. Running was just my way of ploughing on through.
When I returned from Spain I saw a cranial osteopath, J, who noticed my body was so tense and stiff that she hardly touched my knee, but focused on the rest of my body instead. I have another appointment on Wednesday for the knee. J worked wonders on me. There’s a great deal to be said for talking to a compassionate professional about what you are unable to admit friends, family or even yourself. I was clearly doing too much and my body was testimony to this.
I spend the next two days in a state of relaxed lethargy, sleeping a lot more than usual and feeling strangely light and almost heady. Then on Saturday I suffered one of my aura migraines, where my vision goes like shattered glass. Thank goodness it was a weekend and I was with DaddyO and not alone with the children. He drove us back home from town and I retreated to bed. Never have I experienced such nausea and pain with the headache: one of the worst I’ve ever had. These headaches tend to occur when I start to relax after periods of extreme stress, so I guess this was some pretty hard-core relaxing I had underway.
My next appointment with J to focus on my knee is on Wednesday but my knee already feels better. Finally I’m able to crawl into Tinytoes’ castle wendy house she got for Christmas when she shouts ‘Mummy in!’. It’s still quite an operation if I’m carrying Microtoes too, but it makes me feel less of a spoilsport (and more on a par with DaddyO who seems to meet her demands more easily).
Body and mind are so closely entwined. I’ve realised that if I try to fit too much in and my mind can’t cope with doing everything then my body packs in too. And I’m no good to anyone. Least of all my beautiful daughters. So I’m embracing the fact I cannot run at the moment and am working as and when I can. Finally I took J’s advice and bit the bullet and directly asked my dear mother if she could watch Microtoes a morning a week for 2 hours while Tinytoes is in nursery. And she agreed. So now I have 2 hours a week where I can properly work, write my blog post, tidy the house.. or simply just have a long hot bath and reflect on how lucky I am!
Calamitous Mummy 