Family Wellness Mama

With a month passed since my official return to work I can safely refer to myself as a working mum again. But, while the 9-5 stuff came flooding back the second I stepped into the office, every Friday evening I find myself flinging my life sucking lanyard across the room and wailing “was it always this hard!” to the mountain of laundry eagerly awaiting my return. In truth no, being a full-time working mum didn’t seem hard at the time, but I suppose a year out in the real world would dramatically change anyone’s outlook on life. And, while I adore my job, I find myself yearning for the other stuff too. I want the hours at the gym back and I need another day out at the museum!  *sobs hysterically*. When will I ever find the time for life (I think that's what all the kids are calling it?) my wonderful free life, now that I’m a work drone once more. Life doesn’t fit into the sleepwalking hours, you know that mentally exhausted stupor after work and before bed where I

I said I’d post an update  after 8 weeks – it’s more like 10 because the 2 weeks I fell off the exercise wagon totally don’t count.  I’m at the halfway point and honestly, I’m starting to see some improvements. The mum pouch is slightly less; I’ve rediscovered my collarbone and the tiny dents in my arms (under a certain light) could pass as biceps. Progress! I’ve lost 4lb and 8 inches, 4 each from my hips and waist.  A result is a result (even if this is less than I hoped, nay, prayed for) and this one is largely down to a combination of weight training, running and cycling. I’ve been mixing it up by doing whatever I feel like on the day but have made sure to fit in at least 4, hour long sessions a week.  I have to be completely transparent though, whilst I am happy with these teeny results I know I can do better. Exercising alone won’t bring about the changes I’m after. If I want a toned tum and arms that make Davina weep, I can’t come home from a weights session only to

A month before my son’s 1st birthday I was thinking about the dreaded return to work and wondered - with him starting nursery and us being apart for most of the day - if it was time to bring our breastfeeding journey to a close. I didn’t dream that my baby would take the decision out of my hands completely but he did. A few days later the little man staged a strike that struck our booby world apart with apocalyptic force. As with all of the breastfeeding problems  we’ve faced in the past, this one was down to teething. Usually when those pesky white buds are about to make an appearance I can’t get him to stop feeding (or biting) but this was different. I was faced with a baby who refused to feed. Every time I brought him to my breast or tried to feed him in any way he would clench his little jaw and pull back. The only liquids he accepted were tiny sips of milk or water from his cup. Frantic, I had him checked over by a medical professional. When the nurse confirmed

It’s been a few years since I last threw a party - a creepy crawly themed affair for my eldest in the local church hall - and I looked back at that memory with fuzzy fondness. I thought, heck why not do the same for the tiny man's birthday. We’ll have a little garden party, invite a few of his nappy wearing chums and it’ll be so much easier because we’re at home, right? Wrong! I seemed to have developed some kind of party planning amnesia but the second I clicked send on the e-vites it all came flooding back to me... The 5 stresses of party planning. Have I booked enough, have I booked too much ? Gone are the days when a Spice Girl’s album on repeat and a McDonald’s toy wrapped in 15 layers of newspaper were enough to entertain the kiddies. The party industry is big business and there’s choice, choice, oh so much choice when planning entertainment for the wee ones. In hindsight I’m not sure a 5ft bell tent was necessary but I’m glad I drew the line at a  pa

The irony of writing a negative post about social media on social media is not lost on me, but I have a Facebook hiatus coming up and I am ridiculously excited. The highlight of our family vacation (apart from spending endless time with my three darlings obvs) has to be the turning off of my mobile phone.  The house is safe, thanks to the in-laws, and the people I generally worry about 24/7 are with me, so off it goes in my case until our holiday is over. Without the tiny blue flashing device to distract me the change is instant:  I’m more aware of the conversations happening around me (as opposed to muffled background noise), I care less about what other people are doing and I realise that right here, right now, the life I’m living - while not perfect - is pretty freaking awesome. The new buzzword being thrown around is mindfulness , feel the moment, be at one with the moment (blah, blah, blah) but it really does pay to take the time out to just be. To experience thing

Sorry, I'm sure my pictures are TMI for some of you - it’s certainly too much for me every time I look in the mirror - but public shaming is necessary here folks because my mum pouch (or that saggy flap of skin below my naval) is the bane of my existence.  I suspect people think I’m a bit of a narcissist when I mention the mum pouch but this is because I’ve become an expert at hiding it. High waist jeans and granny knickers are a god a send - the pouch can simply be tucked in and concealed - but I’m the one who has to look in the mirror every morning knowing that I’m not happy with what I see. Weight and shape are two entirely different things and whilst I like what the scales show me, my current shape is similar to that of a deflated balloon. It’s not like I haven’t tried either. I stayed active throughout my pregnancy and regular swimming, cycling and running sessions have helped me to shake of most of the baby weight but this belly won’t budge! I’ve been for

As a former Early Years professional and a parent, I have to say that Save The Children’s rather sweeping declaration that' 'every nursery in Britain needs a qualified teacher' will feel like a kick in the teeth to many childcare professionals and parents. According to them, no amount of early years training or parenting experience can match a teacher, fresh out of university, when it comes to educating our 2-year-olds. While I agree with Save The Children (and the 13 Doctors, Physicians and Education Specialists who have put their names to the  report ) about the importance of early learning, I do not think it necessary to have toddlers taught by teachers. Children learn the most in the first five years of life. Their brains are like tiny neuron filled sponges with connections and pathways just waiting to be made. The only way this can happen is by exposing them to as much of their environment as possible, particularly through sensory and physical play. If th

With less than five days to go there’s no getting away from it. My joy filled year of freedom is nearly over and I have to haul my ass back in to work. Ok, it’s just 3 KIT  days, I still have 6 weeks holiday left, but it marks the beginning of the end. No more wearing whatever I can lay my hands on. No more doing what I want, when I want. No more eating whenever I feel like or driving when the roads are empty! No, as of Friday I am once again a working mum and I could cry. Roughly, I think this puts me at stage 4 in the Ending Maternity Leave Grief process – one more to go! If you’re not familiar with the five stages of Ending Maternity Leave Grief I’ve listed them below: 1 .        Denial -  So I've got 12 months to earn enough money to stay at home with my little cherub, that’s doable right? I mean look at this house, I’m practically sitting on a gold mine here - Is that a first edition Harry Potter on the bookshelf! 2.        Anger -  What do you mean

Before I had a C-section  I naively believed that they were a soft option to labour. I looked at the glamorous mums in the glossy magazines, going in with a face full of make-up and not a strand of hair out of place, numb from the navel down while the surgeons slid their babies out of a neat little letter hole, and thought, that looks easy. How wrong I was. Fast forward 6 hours to the agony of the painkillers wearing off, the morphine making you itch like a flea ridden cat and the tiny human screaming for attention next to you, and a Cesarean can seem much less fun. I consider myself to be something of a C-section veteran (though mine were unplanned and both after at least a day of agony and futile hypnobirthing) but even I am astounded by the lack of information out there on C-section recovery. Now I’m not going to patronise you with talk of ‘feet up and rest’ like some of the other helpful (or unhelpful) websites. I’m from the real world where aforementioned tiny human n

I’ve been pretty vocal about the fact that my current life ambition is to be a work from home mum. Being, say, a freelance writer (hint hint to any passing editors) would give me the freedom to work from the sofa in my pyjamas, with a box of maltesers.  It’s the dream, and a very appealing one since I’d be able to avoid skyrocketing childcare costs and choose my own working hours. So imagine my delight when not one, not two but three lovely people, made me aware of some exciting ‘business opportunities’.  They were opportunities to earn thousands of pounds and work from home, if I wanted more information all I had to do was ask. It all seemed too good to be true, because it was. Upon further investigation these multi-level marketing  companies seemed suspiciously like  pyramid schemes . Now I’m not going to name names, because the triangular shaped fat cats will sue my ass, instead I’m going to write a little list: 5 ways to spot a pyramid scheme: You have to pa

I’ve kind of fallen out of love with breastfeeding, there I said it! My baby boy has more teeth coming through and his preferred teething rings are my poor nipples. Now I’m trying to be patient and I know we’ll get through this. So, I’ve written a little list to run through in my head each time he flashes those milky whites. Five reasons why breastfeeding rocks: I can eat all the cake – Yep 500 extra calories just for me. That roughly translates to about 2 fancy cupcakes a day, yum. I’m saving money – It’s month two of my Maternity Induced Poverty  and it’s comforting to know that I’m saving £550  a year by breastfeeding. That’s like a new pair of shoes every month! I can have a lie in – Thanks to round the clock feeds in the early days, I’m owed about 3000 sleeps-in and I happily remind my husband of this fact whenever he has a day off. I can be lazy – Aside from my lie down feeding, aka my accidental co-sleeping habit , breastfeeding allows me to bypas

Sat here looking at his cute little face and hearing his adorable chuckles of laughter, it’s hard to believe that my angel faced boy is kicking my ass every night. Because, when it comes to sleep, this kid has got me beat. It started out innocently enough. I was exhausted after 6 months of getting up every few hours (cheers breastfeeding) and had the bright idea that Lie down night feeding  was the answer. How very wrong I was. The lie down night feeds roughly translated to me falling asleep whilst feeding my little cherub - only waking to roll over and pop him on the other boob. I know I should have felt guilty about the whole ‘co-sleeping is a no-no’ rule but I couldn’t, I was too busy enjoying all of the sleep. So, I resolved to put the little guy back in his cot just as soon as I’d caught up on my own sleep. That day never came and, four months later he’s still in our bed! The night starts out well enough; he has his last feed in his bedroom and goes to sleep i

I wish the race card was a real thing, something to be pulled out, like a red card, whenever someone wished to be treated fairly, or in my case as fairly as my Caucasian friends. I would have carried my race card with me when I was nine and my teenage neighbour thought it funny to shout the N word and sing a racist jingle as I passed her house, every morning on the way to school. Her words still rang in my head as the teacher took the morning register.  I would definitely have pulled out my race card a few years ago when a grown man roared the N word at me from across the street, threatening violence when I stopped to challenge him. I didn’t need to see the video  posted online to know that racism is still alive in my beautiful city. The foul mouthed tirade aimed at the unfortunate doorman, just doing his job on Sunday night, wasn’t the first of its kind but the optimist in me prays that it will be the last. As a mother I try to teach my son patience when people innoc

Knowing I’ll have to work for at least 14 days before I take home a penny is making me bitter. Having to leave my baby in the care of strangers just so I can return to work -working with other people's children, hark the irony! - is a sobering thought, and paying them three-quarters of my salary in the process doesn’t make it any easier. I, like many other parents, welcomed this week’s revelations by the Family and Childcare Trust. Its childcare survey  has shown that British families are spending, on average, a quarter of their income on childcare. That’s more on childcare than a mortgage in some cases. Surely something must be done? I’ve spoken to parents who, when asked if they’re going to have more children, simply reply “we can’t afford anymore,” and they’re not kidding. It would cost an annual average of £16,000 to have two young children in a full-time nursery in the UK. That’s more than some people earn in a year. Which is why I’m unsurprised when many mums - q

I had known it was coming for 9 months but I still felt powerless to stop it. Not my baby dear reader, the end of my maternity pay . The last 3 months of maternity leave are by far the hardest.  It’s the time when true MIP (or Maternity Induced Poverty) sets in, and while the priceless time with your baba more than makes up for any financial hardship MIP doesn’t have to be so tough. Here are some tips to help keep your head above water until you’re safely back at work - and spending half of your income on childcare: Save — let’s start with the hardest. Nobody likes saving and with a baby on the way, or already here, finding those extra pennies can seem impossible. But, saving doesn’t have to mean a huge sacrifice to your income. Filling up a change jar can make a big difference and give you a surprising amount of silver to spend at the end of the month. Credit unions  are another great option for savers. Based in the heart of most communities they offer savings which

Last Sunday I Shunned my usual morning routine of a long run and a big breakfast. Instead, I ushered my little flock, freshly groomed to within an inch of their lives, in to the pews of our local church. An epiphany! I hear you cry. Well, sort of… It was not divine intervention but (whisper it) desperate intention which led us into the open arms of the lord. The truth, I confess, is that we were there for our son. With the nearly 9 year old’s senior school application is looming ever nearer I spent an afternoon reading Ofsted  reports for the local secondary schools in my area. I came away feeling desperate. Unlike their primary school counterparts, when it comes to non-faith secondary schools the outlook is bleak. I read reports for my 5 nearest non-faith schools, two are in special measures and the rest require improvement. Horrified, I turned my attention to faith schools whose reports couldn’t be more different. All of my local C of E and Catholic Schools scored good

                                                                                        Well it sure has been some time since my last post so let me fill you in ... I'm now a married woman and we've finally clambered on to the property ladder! As you can see (from the picture above)  we've also had a visit from the stalk and our family has grown from a trio to a quartet. Becoming a mum 8 years on has opened up a world  which I had long forgotten - goodbye heels, wine and abs, hello boobies, play dates and sleep deprivation. I'm embracing these fresh new challenges and I adore my boy's unique brotherly bond. Being off on maternity leave has opened the door to a life outside of work too.  My days are now filled with playgroups, exercise and family time. Truth be told, I'm not ready to give up my new role as a housewife. These past 8 months, I've discovered that there's so much more to life than 9 to 5: Driving when the roads are empty is relaxing,