Waiting for zen

I have just started very basic interval training so I can run a 5km fun run next October.

Yes, that’s right.I’ve given myself almost a year to run 5km. And, quite possibly, if you have ever seen me running (and I do use the term loosely) you may agree that it is not enough time!

Nup. No zen yet!
Nup. No zen yet!

At the moment, I am really struggling to find my inner zen during my runs.

Perhaps it’s due to the fact that I can’t seem to breathe and run at the same time. Or that I feel like my feet are barely lifting off the ground.

Whatever it is, I can’t find my running zen – that ability to just get lost in the moment of running.

It’s not happening. I think of EVERYTHING when I run – how hard it is; how weird my lungs feel without any air in them; how sore my shins, hamstrings, little toe, and earlobes feel; what I’ll do when I finish the run; what I need to do when I get to work; what I’ll do tomorrow before my next run; what would I spend  $10 million on if I won the lottery: and why am I continuing to eat kale when I really don’t like the taste?

I can’t meditate for the same reason. Or do yoga. Or anything else when you are meant to still your thoughts and just ‘be’.

I can’t ‘be’. I get stuck on me.

I worry that I’m not not thinking.That I’m not breathing properly – too shallow! I yell at myself silently to relax my muscles!

And to stop thinking about how uncomfortable sitting cross-legged is! And to fight the urge to open my eyes to see if everyone else has their eyes closed.

I really wish I could get into the zen zone. Everyone else who can find it seems so chilled and easygoing. But it eludes me!

Have you got zen in your life? How do you find it?

You can do that?! Wow.

The other day I was running/shufflling/tripping/walking around the local athletics track and was being lapped by a young guy who was running so effortlessly and beautifully that I couldn’t help but tell him how impressed I was.

Wearing white AND linen - you know it's a rare skill, don't you?
Wearing white AND linen – you know it’s a rare skill, don’t you?

And it made me think of all the things that people do that impress me no end (warning: it’s a pretty shallow list):

  • People that can run without looking like they are about to expire.
  • People that can wear white clothes without spilling food on them.
  • People that can wear linen without looking like they have been sleeping in their clothes.
  • People that can wear hats without looking like a young school child.
  • People that can write music or songs. I think the ability to produce such magic out of thin air are absolute marvels.
  • People that have never smacked their children. Your tolerance and patience humbles me.
  • People that can do maths – and apply it to everyday situations.
  • People that can remember names.
  • People that can reverse down a driveway.
  • People that can go to the gym and not sweat buckets.
  • People that can wink.
  • People that can do that cool whistle that makes taxis stop.

I take my hat off to you all!

What would your list include?

The green eyed monster

To the stay-at-home Mums in my suburb (warning: contains bitterness borne out of jealousy):

I’m jealous.

I’m jealous that you seem to have all the time in the world in the morning to get yourself dressed and your little cherubs ready for school. You don’t know that the house you all walk past with the white car in the driveway contains a woman who is only just stepping in to the shower, after having a miserable morning dealing with tired children, when she should be heading to the school drop off.

I’m jealous that you get to walk your children to school in the morning sunshine, sharing lovely jokes and enjoying some special bonding moments. I see you all as I am driving past, cursing the 40km/h speed zone because I am once again running late to get my children to school and then to get myself to work on time.

I’m jealous that you al seem to have the time to chat to each other once school starts, keeping yourselves up to date with all the latest school events. Meanwhile, I am the one who arrives at school with the only children who are not dressed up in yellow for some fundraising event; causing us all to hop back in the car, race in to the house, get changed and race back to school. Of course, then I have to walk the hall of shame to the School Office to sign my children in, as they are so late and have missed the roll.

jealousI’m jealous because I assume you always have the house running smoothly, and there are always freshly made healthy snacks for the children to eat when they get home and a nutritious dinner on the boil, ready to be served at the sensible time of 5.30pm – leaving plenty of time for some family togetherness. I think of you as I walk in the door at 6.15pm and head straight to the kitchen to whip up a meal that only takes 10 minutes to cook so we can fit in bath time and a book before bed.

I’m also thankful that you answer my panicked texts at 8.15am when I need to know if today is the day the children are heading off to the excursion; or to check if it is Nude Food Day, and therefore whether I need to un-Glad Wrap their lunches.

I’m thankful for your sweet smiles of understanding as I arrive at school in a mad flap because I have dropped one of the many balls I try to keep up in the air.

Please forgive my steely looks as I see you walk past my house in the morning, assuming (wrongly) that you haven’t a care in the world, while I feel like the world is on my shoulders. It’s only because I am jealous…and tired.

Squeezed

No time to blog.

Must get up at 5.35am to get to gym by 6am.

Must get home by 7am to kiss husband goodbye before he goes to work.

Must get kids ready for school.

Must go to work.

Must not get home too late.

Must cook dinner.

Must get kids ready for bed.

Must sit on couch for half an hour.

Must study.

Must go to bed at midnight.

May talk to husband?

A non-blogger returns – albeit briefly

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged and really, I shouldn’t even be doing it now. I should be asleep. The reason I have been a non-blogger is that I am now in Week 7 of my Diploma in Digital Marketing – an offline course I am doing while working full time, looking after the kids and neglecting my husband. Yes, he is being neglected. We are being neglected. My blog followers are being neglected. It’s been a vicious cycle of neglect, my friends. My husband’s in bed now. I should be in bed now too. But I’m not.

tired
Just give me a second to recharge and I will return to my life

I’ve been studying and kind of enjoying the peace and quiet, to be honest. Does that make me a bad wife? Probably. Am I learning all about how valuable regular blogging is? Yes. Have I been doing it? Hell, no! Am I asking too many questions because I am a bit delirious from lack of sleep? Yes. Goodnight!

I cry for love

DSC_0063
Lock up your daughters!

Dinner time at my house. We are all sitting down together at the dining table, sharing the highlights of our day.

Now I know this sounds very Brady Bunchesque, but believe me, most nights I can be found in the kitchen frantically cooking up three different meals – one for me (FODMAPS-friendly); one for the kids (tasteless and without any ‘weird green bits’); and one for my husband (big and meaty – the food; not hubby). And by the time each meal is ready, there is not much time for chatter.

So one the rare evenings when we are all eating THE SAME THING, it’s nice to enjoy the time to catch up.

So back to the conversation.

My son, who has just started school this year (he is 6), was regaling us with a list of girls at his school that are in love with him.

“Kate* loves me, but I don’t love her.”

“Sarah* loves me, but I don’t love her.”

“Emma* loves me. She always wants to hug me when I fall down and cry.”

I asked: “Do you sometimes fall down and pretend to cry for hugs?”

And my son answered: “Nah, I cry for love.”

Romantic or playboy? I’ll have wait to wait a few years to find out!

*Names have been changed to protect the sweetly innocent.

 

Time will tell

It’s been ages since I’ve blogged – again! How does time slip away so quickly?

My husband and I were talking about our previous home and we were saying that it seemed like a simpler life there. We had our first baby, I was a stay-at-home-Mum for a time and we just seemed to have all the time in the world.

05Of course if you had asked me back then how I felt about things, I probably would have told you that I never seem to have enough time to do anything! Fast forward seven years and we all seem to be barely holding on from day to day.

Today was the last day of school for my kids – they are now halfway through Prep and Grade Two. But the most exciting thing is that I am on holidays too! Yes, this tightly wound little bundle of stress has two weeks off!

Next Thursday we are flying to the Gold Coast to spend five nights in the Sea World Resort with unlimited entry to three theme parks – Sea World, Movie World and Wet-n-Wild. Just a cruisey, laid back holiday – not! Then we have three nights in Sydney.

For eight nights we will all be in the one hotel room. And for a person who really loves their own space, this thought makes me very nervous!

Relaxing and kicking back is a bit of an elusive concept for me at the moment. Because I don’t have enough on my plate; with working full time, while trying to be a good Mum and wife; I decided to start a Diploma in Digital Marketing! It’s an online course that will take me 12 months.

For any of you who have been faithfully following my blog (whoever you are, I love you and thank you) you will recall that this is not my first attempt at higher learning online. I wrote a blog about my attempt at a Masters of Marketing for about three weeks before having to drop out – much to my annoyance and shame.

But this time I think I will make it. It does mean that for 12 months, I won’t be around much and that’s hard to accept.

Can you justify putting your family through 12 months of only having half of your attention when you are already struggling to give them the love and focus you know they need from you?

Time will tell!

 

I forgive me

I forgive me for ignoring my six-year-old son’s pleas that he had to go to the toilet when we got to the park (“But you just went!”) and so he ended up soiling himself and crying.

I forgive me for yelling at my son who just soiled himself because he couldn’t hang on that one extra minute.

I forgive me for giving my son extra treats to make up for the terribleness of the park incident.

I forgive me for dressifunny-parenting-quote-pic1ng my six-year-old son in his sister’s track pants this morning and not noticing they were two sizes too big until we got to school.

I forgive me for dressing my son in ridiculously big track pants which lead to some boys tease him about it at school that made him feel sad.

I forgive me for giving my son extra treats to make up for the terribleness of the wrong size track pants incident.

 

 

Being 41

Being 41 is weird.

wearing-moms-heels-pinterestIt’s making me Google ‘serums’ that can turn back years of sun damage. Gosh, if I could step back in time, I would slap that bottle of Reef Oil with the SPF -5 out of my hands and make myself wear a hat, top and 30+ sunscreen!

It’s making me stand in front of the mirror, and use both hands on each side of my face to flatten out my wrinkles. Botox? Yes please!

It’s making me panic that I get so excited about sunny days and doing three loads of washing!

It’s making me get extra tests at the docs for health issues as ‘a precautionary measure’. Gosh, I miss the feeling of invincibility when you are young!

It’s making me break out which is weird! What is the deal with adult acne?!

It’s made me get a blood test to check I was menopausal. But it turned out that I am just a bad tempered b*tch!

It’s made keeping fit so, so hard! Huffing and puffing on the treadmill is just not as much fun when it serves as a cruel reminder of how much I’ve let myself go!

It’s making me not want to enter certain clothing stores, just incase the shop assistants are thinking I am shopping there for my teenage daughter!

It’s making me feel the need to hide my immaturity. Surely, I’m not the only 41-year-old that gets teary-eyed while watching ‘Frozen'; or who laughs at fart jokes, right?

It’s making me feistier, as my tolerance for bullish** is w-a-a-y lower than ever. Actually, I like this part of being 41!

Here’s to growing old disgracefully!

 

 

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