Tired child and moody mum = turbulence

I let myself down as a mum again today. Having had to go to a hearing test this morning and with them going to playschool in the afternoon, I hadn't really seen them all day. So when I went to pick them up Olivia was a little clingy, which was fine, but then came the tears. She cried because she wanted her lunchbox - there was nothing in it - she cried because there was nothing in it! She cried because she wanted a drink - I didn't have one on me - she cried again. She cried because she didn't want to go home - I told her we were not going home but going to see her friend Lucy - that made her cry too. I needn't go on, you get the picture.

What it was, and I knew this really, was that she was tired, but rather like some rational, calm, serene mother that provided comfort and affection. I just became this ratty, bitchy, shouty mum who probably just amplified the situation and made things worse.

WHY DO I DO THAT?? I am the adult in this, yet I feel sometimes like a moody teenager who has been tasked with looking after their little brother/sister. I could feel myself getting angrier and more agitated, when really all it would've taken is a few more hugs, cuddles and soothing conversation to distract her. 

Our children maybe quite manipulative some times, but they are also very vulnerable and sensitive. Every time I have shouted at them I get a pang of guilt because they're faces look very confused. I feel they're embarrassment. Sometimes I feel bad because I have shouted at them when when it wasn't really necessary but enough to get that vein throbbing slightly in my head a little.

I know that no parent or child is perfect and that raised voices, used in the correct way can be effective. I just don't want my children to look back at they're childhood and remember mum's "moods". Perhaps I need to take a few deep breathes or maybe just appreciate my children's needs a little bit more before re-acting so harshly.

Coming up for air

I watched this film recently called The Private Life of Pippa Lee. It's about a middle age woman who lives a very suburban, sedate and slow life. She is portrayed as a somewhat submissive and bland housewife, who's life is devoted to her sick husband and grown up high achieving twins.

However, we are taken back in flashbacks to her life before she met her husband and it is revealed that she was actually a tearaway teen, posing for raunchy lesbian photo shoots, experimenting with a cocktail of drugs amongst the Bohemia of New York. There she was free to think and do as she pleased, no one judged her, in fact most men were in awe of her.

Then we are taken back to 30 years later where she is leading this humdrum and sepia life. The person she was has been washed away and replaced by mother and wife of...

I felt like this for a while. I know that I am more fortunate than most others and in many ways my life is good, perfect almost. I have a great partner, two gorgeous kids, a lovely home that is filled with nice food and furniture (yes in that order).

But I still couldn't help think that in some ways becoming a mum (apart from if you are The Duchess of Cambridge or Kim Kardashian) made you sort of invisible. It's like being given this blank canvas, but unable to fill it.

I'm not blaming anyone but myself really, no one makes me wear drab and boring baggy clothes, objects if I don't wear make up or put my wet hair up in a pony tail. My eyebrows are that unkempt I make the Gallagher brothers monobrow look quite tidy: and a yeti takes more care of it's body hair than I do. But I don't think anyone noticed, more shockingly I don't think anyone cared.

Now to be honest, I'm not really a vain person, I use my physical appearance to try and get across a point really. Is there really a sign over my head that says "I'm a mother now, please take no notice of me".

For those of you who are stay at home mums, do you ever feel uncomfortable telling people that's what you are? You get I felt that look as though you had just said "I sit on my arse and do nothing". It's an almost pitiful look to which you  then spend the next half an hour justifying my role and in doing so boring everyone as you regale them with woes of how much washing and cleaning you do alongside trying to ensure you children do not become cbeebie zombies.

I recently started doing a bit of catering work for someone, helping out at events, weddings etc etc, and I feel so rejuvenated. it was like I had been underwater for a while and now I've finally come up for air. The real me is coming back out again, I am blossoming like a sunflower, blooming like a rose...world..I am..HAPPY, because I feel like I have a sense of self worth. I am not just a mum, I'm Leah, who helps Maynards Farm with their catering. I'm not earning enough that will buy us house, Lord even a doll's house, but to me, the money is a great sidebar. I'm back to my old waitressing days of putting money in a pot and it's fun. This is more about reaching in a pulling out the Leah that once was, not just pre-kids but pre everything that has happened in my life. Like I said, I can't really blame anyone, no one forces you to give up your identity, situations occur and it just kind of happens. 

And more importantly I don't blame my kids, in fact, they are the reason that I'm on this quest again. For years I lost myself, there has been a low flame in my eyes, but now that fire is burning again, because I want my children to see the best of me. 

I don't think I'm quite ready for a full time job yet, I still enjoy my time with the kids (I'm lucky to get that - my fellow full time working mum's out there - I salute you), but just this little door opener has meant that the sign now reads "I'm a mother, now take notice!!"

Tears and tantrums..erm that's me and not the kids

Whilst having children does (or should) make you a more responsible adult, it can, at times, make you regress and unleash the inner child in you. Sometimes in a good way, I can quite easily believe that our sofa is actually a car or a boat. I am an excellent guest at Olivia's tea party for her dolls and have spent a lot of money buying food from Beau's corner shop.

Yet, there are times when you have to remind yourself that you are the more advanced of the two parties involved and there are certain childish traits that you should just not follow.


I have definitely learnt that kids are more clever than we adults think, they have this amazing ability without much thought to bring us down to their level and behave in ways that are normally reserved for them.

Me and friend were also talking recently about her relationship with her daughter who is three and a bit and she confessed that she felt like the confrontations that she had were her were almost on a childlike level, there was no rationality to them and that it was more like playground behaviour than a mother trying to control her child. I then got on my high horse and told her that she needed to be the mum and not the child and all that sanctimonious rubbish that people say when they don't experience the same thing - but folks there is karma........

Today, I spent over an hour with the kids making cards with animals on hat you then rolled up tissue paper and stuck all over..see below for the evidence.

It was a lovely hour, the kids sat calmly and attentively whilst I dabbed on glue and told them where to stick (although Beau got bored half way through and went off to play wit his train) So me and Olivia soldiered on together to create what I thought was two cute and rather intricate pieces of art. Now obviously I accept that  I was far too caught up in my creative ego and really it was just a bit of tissue stuck on card, but at the time I was feeling all warm and cosy in the fact that me and my daughter had created a "masterpiece" together. 

So you can imagine my shock and despair when 30 mins later I found Olivia sat on the floor tearing off all the pieces of tissue that we had so delicately and precisely been applying. My friends I have to tell you that I almost burst into tears, I was speechless. In that moment you could actually say I spat my dummy. I actually wanted to stamp my feet, cry and say "that's not fair". For that moment my brain had been re-wired to that of my child's. I really wanted to have a tantrum, to sit and sulk in a corner with my arms crossed and my bottom lip sticking out.

And I did sulk, not in a corner, but I refused to talk to Olivia and told her to go away and not talk to me, which I would often do to my mum and dad whenever I had one of my little paddy's as a child. Stomping away with a proper exaggerated step to emphasise how angry I was. Oh my lord!!

Poor Olivia, she apologised without me having to say anything and then she spent the next 20 mins trying to make me laugh and all I could do was mope and moan about how she had ruined everything and dramatically exclaimed how upset mummy was. Of course, 10 mins later I felt a bit silly, why did it matter so much and why had I behaved so childishly? 

I guess sometimes the responsibility of being a parent can just become a little too much and like a child, we become a little sensitive and want to kick out, scream and wail. The difference between us and our children is that we have a conscience and  beat ourselves up for this occasional loss of control. For them, they have a tantrum, bit of a cry and a few minutes later it's forgotten. For us, the responsible ones, we then spend the next few days chastising ourselves about how bad a parent we have been.

Of course we can't always be the perfect parents and I have come to realise that I should not feel guilty when it comes to getting cross with the kids, I fully believe that if there is a child in this world that never misbehaves or pisses off their their parents then they are either Pinocchio and wooden or have been bound and gagged and locked in a cellar!!

It's ok to break out of the mummy/daddy role from time to time, but just remember, kids are highly observant and receptive, they learn and react from you and your behaviour. Yet  most importantly, always ensure above all else that your child knows that they are loved and cherished. When you do that the rewards are always worth the tears and the tantrums that you and them sometimes endure.

Heart on my sleeve

I'm really grateful for the feedback that I've had off people who have read my blog. The one thing that seems to come up is how open and forward I am about my life and things that I feel. I guess I don't seem to have a censor button when it comes to talking about myself and my emotions.

All my life I think I have been very forthcoming in terms of expressing myself. As a child, if I was upset, angry, happy, sad, pissed off, whatever, I not only let people know verbally, but also my body would also be acting out whichever emotion I would happen to be experiencing. Is there such a condition as emotional tourettes?

They say that your eyes are like a window into your soul, for me that is so true. Like my father, I think I have this ability to speak with my eyes and not say a word. As a child, it wasn't shouting in our house that had any impact, my dad would have a "stare", his eyes would go a very deep brown, almost black and they would fix upon you and hold you there under his gaze. If this was some sci-fi film, you could probably see the laser that was ever so slowly burning into your head. When you saw this stare, you would have to turn away quickly just in case he might actually penetrate the brain.

Maybe I picked up on this technique, or perhaps it was inherited, either way, I too have the "stare". I discovered this following a conversation that my headmaster (also taught me French) had with my parents when I was 12.

Mr Weremcyk - "your daughter is hard to teach"
my parents - "erm, ok, why?"
MrWeremcyk - "She has way of looking at me, that is most unsettling, a certain stare"

Yes, there you go folks, even at 12 I had the stare nailed.

I use the old adage ' I wear my heart on my sleeve'  because no truer words could be said, but it actually makes me feel comfortable to be so open and honest. I'm not ashamed of telling people how I feel. I sometimes think I do it because I want people to feel able to tell me things that they might not necessarily think is OK to discuss. This sounds very corny and perhaps a little bit egotistical, but nothing makes me feel better and happier when someone is able to disclose something to me that they might otherwise have felt awkward about. It's not about what they relate, but the fact that they can feel that they can relate to me. It's almost like I'm a big comfy chair that they can relax in.

The person I probably have to thank for this is my mum, she had the most warm and welcoming aura around her that glowed. People were forever in her office or on her phone seeking advice or just an ear. From old ladies and troubled teens to top flight rabbis, mum would listen to them with the same unaffected and nonjudgmental attention. There was no pompousness in her counsel, she did not feel herself as a martyr, she only ever wanted to make people feel comfortable in her presence.

But it is with the love and tolerance that I had from both my parents that have allowed me to be the open and honest person that I am today. They always encouraged both me and my brothers to be true to ourselves, making it feel natural for us to be expressive and emotionally unconstrained. Yes our house was often loud, contentious and somewhat tumultuous. However, when it came to who we all were as people, parents and children that was and still is bona fide and genuine.

Lets talk about sex (maybe)

How the subject arose I can't quite remember, but today at a friends birthday lunch, the issue of how we would deal with the "sex" issue as our children reached a certain age came to the fray.

I have to admit I was quietly surprised by the fact that some of my friends, who are quite liberal in many ways and talk openly when it comes to matters of a carnal nature, seemed to clam up when it came to the thought of approaching the subject with their children.

It is for most parents I feel, the looming elephant in the room. Like potty training, religion and politics, it falls in the same category of things parents dread bringing up with their children, an area of growing up that many of us wish that children would quietly and easily discover for themselves. 

Look, you can't get away from the fact that your children are eventually going to do IT. They are also going to try drinking, smoking (possibly drugs), you know that because you have done it too. Take yourself back 10, 20, 30 years or so - you have to ask yourself how would you have wanted your parents to re-act? Did they do it the right way? 

I have to say that I think my parents got it right. They didn't make a big thing about it yet neither did they pretend that they thought we would stay virgins forever. Both mum and dad made it clear that if we wanted to discuss it they were happy to do so. 

From a young age we would also happily sit alongside our parents watching comedy films such as Lemon Popsicle http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0079118/  and Porky's http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0084522/, all relating to sexually frustrated young men painfully and usually unsuccessfully trying to lose their virginity, so maybe that helped lighten things up a bit.

I think my dad felt that his remit as a parent was to find as many ways possible to embarrass his children. Let me just take a moment to list some things that we were subjected to

My dad would....

1, Lie on the floor supermarkets calling out our names
2, Sing in the street
3, Walk out in his underpants in the street
4, Sing really loudly during services at synagogue to try and out sing the choir
5, Do the dad dance at wedding, barmitzvah, birthday parties (fortunately not at funerals)
6, Make silly noises and jump up and down pointing at us in the street so that everyone would look

Yet, there is one thing that mostly sticks out in my memory, in fact I can't even call it a memory as still to this day, my dad will hasten to add some sort of  sexual pun or innuendo into any conversation, normally relating to a woman's breasts. Now, as much as it did and still does make me cringe, in some ways having this issue so openly and jokingly discussed meant that sex was never really an issue, or something that was seen "dirty" or "forbidden". 

My oldest brother started bringing girlfriends home from the age of 17 and my parents were very comfortable with that, better in his bedroom than children's outdoor playhouse in a park (not me a friend). 

Had I not developed an eating disorder throughout my teens, I totally believe that I would've been comfortable and confident when it came to sex. I would quite happily have taken boys home with me as it was where I felt safe. 

Now I'm not saying that we should be buying vibrators and the karma sutra for our kids, but things are so different now, our kids can get information about anything at the click of a button. So would advice not be better coming from someone they can trust rather than a stranger on a screen.

We all have our own way of parenting and I am not here to preach or persuade, all I can say is that all the issues I ever had in my life were self inflicted rather than as result of lack of parental guidance.

To my friends

When we discovered that we were having twins, we decided that it would be good to move near family (we're talking seconds away!!) 

For twelve years we lived in Leeds, a vibrant city well known for its clubbing / bar scene and shopping. As a young couple it was a great place to be, we indulged in the nightlife and were happy to be part of the hustle and bustle of a reasonably large city. 

During our time in Leeds I was trying to juggle two jobs, one as a gym instructor at for Virgin Active, the biggest, a swanky gym with over 1000 members. The other was as a PR and marketing consultant. So I knew lots of people, but having to spend so much time being bubbly and sociable in my job soon left me with little energy to socialise outside of my work.I avoided going to social events for work and always felt like I didn't really fit in as I wasn't one of the "team". I think people thought I was a bit of a snob or just very boring I had a small group of friends but, and I apologise to them now, I was an elusive friend, drifting in and out of their lives, never really making any firm commitments to them. Now, I don't want those that knew me to feel like I'm disrespecting them in some way, because I know that those people cared about me, it's more of a failure on my part to be a good friend.

The decision to move away from Leeds wasn't really a heart wrenching one. Whilst I would miss teaching my classes at Virgin and my regular indulgences in the M&S food hall, both me and Rick were ready for a change, especially with two little tiddlers on the way. We were living in a 2 bed terrace adjacent to a main road, with no garden, not the most ideal place to live with children. No, now we needed a house with a garden, preferably in a quiet and safe road - it was time to be ouch, dare I say it...sensible

So on a very cold and icy week in December 2010, we moved to a lovely house in Shropshire. For a few months I had withdrawal symptoms from living in the city. Whitchurch is a sleepy little town in what some would term "out in the sticks" Tractors are more common place than cars and an Indian is considered as posh food. 

In Leeds, I was indulged with a choice of shops, restaurants, cinemas, bars, even museums.When I first hit Whitchurch town centre it felt like a step back in to the 1980's. It has that battered and bruised feeling of many town centres around the country due to the influx of giant supermarkets and retail parks on the outskirts. How was I ever going to survive, I thought!!!!

My saving grace were my kids, it was through them that I have learnt to love this town and all the many people I have met that live here. 

Yes, I have become part of the mummy brigade, most of my friends are mums. OK, the children do factor highly in our conversations, but who else is going to understand when you feel like shit because you've been up since 4am, or are get as excited when your child does their first poo in a potty. But as a parent that support is crucial in surviving the sometimes exasperating parts of being a parent.

Being in a small place allows you to slow down and make more time for people, there is a need to be connected and after many years of feeling adrift I finally feel part of something again.

You know in my last blog post I mentioned that I was grieving for that little girl I once was? I honestly feel like I have been given a second chance to live again, I'm beginning to feel like I'm getting that sparkle back, there's a warmth and energy that is climbing up from my soul and starting to radiate through my skin.

As dramatic as it sounds, it's like my cold heart has been melted, fro many years, being a friend was a chore to me, something that didn't come easy. Now, being a friend means so much to me, having people to turn to is as important as breathing. 

To those of my dear friends past and present, I owe you so much...........

“Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You too? I thought I was the only one.” 
― C.S. Lewis

It's been a while

OK, so it's been a very loooooooooooong time since I wrote my lost post, almost six months to be precise

I guess it was a combination of laziness, motherhood and brain freeze. Although saying that, I've actually felt like my head would actually explode with the amount of activity that has been going on inside.

It's been a bit of a funny time, I've been in a bit of a dark place. I think I was looking over the garden fence and seeing a greener grass and rosy garden, whilst mine seemed withered and barren....yes it's a jolly post today!!

As some of you have read in my previous posts, I've not adapted as easily as some to the role of motherhood, it's been both a mental and physical challenge. I won't regurgitate past blog posts as I don't want to bore those who have already read about my battles with eating disorders, but in a nutshell becoming a mum to twins = change body + change in lifestyle and routine = major struggle. Then add to the pot a feeling of failure having never really achieved a stable career status. Things just reached boiling point for me towards the end of 2012.

I had tried and succeeded in getting a job, but it involved getting up at 4am and then coming home back to a full day with the kids. I didn't make it easy for myself as I'm a night bird and don't go to sleep until late. But even so, the people that I worked with were either very young or reasonably older than myself. It got to the point where I had nor energy for the kids and the thought of having to do stuff with them made me want to curl up in a ball and hide. So ashamedly, I only lasted 3 months in the job and thoughts of a new career were pushed right to the furthest part of the cupboard where the cobwebs dwell.

With that came a black cloud, in which my brain would just not switch off in terms of negative thoughts and I was constantly giving myself a mental beating. Was life ever going to be different for me again? Was there more to life than this - my role as mother. Who was I, what was I put here for?, would I ever DO something of merit?? God, perhaps I should've joined the religious cult Opus Dei and flogged myself!!

When I was a kid, I had what my grandma would say "a lot of chutzpa", No mountain was to high and no walls were going to stop me. As much as my dad will loathe me to say  this but I thought I was going to be the next Maggie Thatcher- not really in politics, but in what ever it was I chose to do - yes choose, because I had so many things I wanted to do. Even now, as I type, I have visions of this child with a sparkle in her eye and a fire in her belly - eager to get out and make her mark on the world. That light got blown out when I developed Anorexia. It's actually bizarre to think about really, I was so desperate as a child to conquer the world, but in hind sight I became anorexic as I was so frightened of becoming a woman. A paradox of sorts really.

For years my whole life became entangled in a web of food and exercise, disabling me from reaching the great heights that I expected. I wasn't able to function as rational or "normal" person. And, in some ways I'm still experiencing some similar obstacles. 

So much so, I decided a month or so ago to try counselling again. I've had counselling on a couple of occasions as a teen but didn't really appreciate or want it - it was more a case of being pushed into it, but this time I made the decision. I wanted to be able to use my brain for something other than negative thoughts and worrying about getting fat. 

I love writing and my ambition is to write two books that I have the ideas for. I also want to continue with my mums recipe book blog, which means a lot to me. But, right now my head is so full of junk that it's hard to concentrate on these things.

It's been over a month now and I've made inroads, I've realised that I am grieving for this little girl that once was. When someone dies, you seem to put them on a pedestal and erase all the flaws. They become like a ghost, haunting you and making it hard to move on. What I have to do now is find some way to move away from the past and focus on the present and the future without believing that my glass is always going to be half empty.

I've also become aware that whilst there might have been people and decisions that have effected my life in some way, these should not be dwelt on or used as an excuse for where I am now and how I feel. The only person that is control of my life. There are only so many factors you can blame before you have to look at yourself and realise that it is only you that can change and only you that can choose the right path. 

Virgin trains can use my tracks Mr Branson

I've gone and done it, the train tracks are on and even though you see me smile I have to say it's slightly forced.

Yes, I know I'm old and silly enough to make my own decisions, I have no parents to blame for enforcing me to go ahead with such drastic action to fix my wonky teeth, but I still can't help repeating the mantra "why oh why oh why oh why" in my head.

The past few days have been nothing short of nightmare, I feel like the makers of the Saw movie franchise have created a part just for me in SAW VII - Brutal Braces.

It's tag line would read - The Braces aren't there to fix her teeth, they're there to rip her mouth to shreds!!!!!!

I don't think there has been a day, hour or minute in the last few days where Rick has not heard me moan, bitch and whine like - well a person who has just had a big hunk of sharp metal put in their mouth

There is however, one possible highlight, I think I have lost a few pounds due to the fact that I have only been able to drink soups and smoothies for 5days, even my two year old twins have been eating more textured food than me. It is only today that I can finally bring my teeth together without feeling like they are about to explode. I long to be able to chew on a piece of chicken or even eat a sandwich, but that is still days away yet, although I'm still of the impression it might even be months.

If there's a lesson learnt here, it is, even if the dentist shouts at you for not brushing properly, never leave it 12 years before you return to the dentist!

News just in...I have a JOB interview!!!!!!!

News just in...I have a JOB interview!!!!!!!

OK, don't get too excited it's just a part time job at Sainsbury's - working on either fish / bakery or deli..BUT... I actually want to do it. To me working in a supermarket is the equivalent to a fashion student getting their first job sweeping up factory odds and ends for Stella McCartney.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I love being around food - talking about it, looking at it, reading about it and eating it. In particular, I am interested in finding out about new products and also the trends in consumer sales and choices. So working in an environment that enables me embrace my passion is surely not a bad thing.

There is also the fact that this could lead to a variety of opportunities either within Sainsbury's of the food retail industry. I have often mentioned to Rick that I would love to become a food buyer. I would take great delight in deciding what I think people would try and also buy. I know that there is much more to it than that, but thought of discovering a product that could set the market on fire gets me more excited than reading the middle of 50 Shades of Grey!

Now, I do love Sainsbury's, I shop there every week (the twins are very well known for their, how can I put it - rambunctiousness throughout the store. I think they probably have the twins photo up in staff room saying BEWARE). However, in an enchanted world, I would love to eventually end up working in a top class food hall. I have actually thought about contacting the food halls of Harrods, Fortnum and Mason, Wholefoods or Selfridges to see if I could do some work experience with their food buying team, but would they want to take on a 34 year old with no experience.

See, there's a couple of issues, no training/experience and I'm no spring chicken. Will people really want to take a risk on me? The argument for it is that being 34 I've got a lot out of my system and I'm settled down. At 34, there is less chance of me flipping and flapping through careers, I don't really have the time or energy for that. With age comes a different kind of experience, alongside the eagerness comes a little bit more sense and sensibility, affording you a little more confidence and assurance in the work that you carry out. I think you tend to handle things differently, maybe more logically as the eagerness comes with a little hesitation rather than a two footed leap that many young people take.

Of course, I may not even get this job at Sainsbury, I just might not be what they are looking for. Should I be dumbing myself down? I'm hoping that the interviewer would be encouraged by my ambition, drive and see the potential in me for future opportunities, rather than be put off. But I'm still a bit unsure how to approach the interview situation.

When I found out I'd got the interview, I honestly felt for the first time in a long time that I could feel the blood coursing through my veins and the colour coming back into my cheeks. I guess it's given me a bit of fire in the belly and unlocked a part of my brain that I thought I'd lost the key to. I've realised there is so much that I can do and want to do, but I may just need to reign things in a little and learn to channel this new wave of enthusiasm towards something fruitful and productive.

The Ludlow Food Festival

So we hit the Ludlow Food Festival at the weekend, it's one of the biggest and most prestigious in the country, so I was extremely excited about going.

You would think with my long history of eating disorders that I would run a mile from anything like this and being surrounded by food for a whole day would bring me out in a cold sweat. Well no you'd be wrong, it's the complete opposite. I love food, I love talking about it, reading about it, cooking at and YES actually EATING it.

The visit to Ludlow had been possibly the most eagerly awaited event of 2012 for me, way over the Olympics and the start of the news series of The Great British Bake Off!! In fact, I felt like a kid at Christmas the night before we went, waking up at 6am and being thoroughly disappointed that it was not yet really time to get up and that we wouldn't be heading off to Ludlow for at least another 4hrs.

Lat year was the first year that we went and that time we took the twins with us - BIG mistake, apart from the fact we were still on scheduled eating patterns and nap times, we had a huge pram and prams big or small are never crowd friendly. We also did a park and ride which meant collapsing and re-opening the pram along with all the things that we had put in the little compartment underneath the front seat.

Most of the day was spent sat down either feeding, comforting crying babies, changing nappies and arguing about who was going to be able to eat first, look around or get a drink!

So this year we left the kids at home with Ricks parents, yes, it was also a WHOLE child-free day. Now you all know I love Beau and Olivia dearly, but it's always a relief not to have to be part of the same daily routine - plus I know that they absolutely adore their Grandma and Grandad (mainly because they let them run amok)

We arrived in Ludlow at 12pm and parked just outside the town, which allowed us to take in the sites of this quaint and quirky medieval little town. The buildings have been well looked after and you can really imagine what it would've been like way back in times before cars, Tesco Expresses and alchopops.

If you live or work in Ludlow, it's a time of year you either enjoy or despise - much like people in Rome when the pope pops out to say hello. As soon we hit the streets of Ludlow, the crowds became vast, hundreds of people were milling about or following sausage and Ale trails set up by the festival, there were queues about 30 people deep all waiting for  half a sausage. 

The vein on Ricks throat was already beginning to pulsate and I had to distract him by reminding him that not only did this festival celebrate food, a majority of it was also dedicated to beer, cider and ale. I even offered to drive home - in effect encouraging him to get drunk so that both of us would be able to relax for he day.

The festival is spread throughout the town but the main event takes place at the castle, it's a ruin really but has enough walls and space to play host to the 20,000 odd foodies that pass through it's wrought iron gates throuought the whole weekend.

For me, walking up to the entrance was like a hallelujah moment, I felt like I was walking through the pearly gates and my idea of heaven was waiting for me on the inside. If heaven holds constant food festivals then Lord I'm not afraid to die! (no offence to loved ones)

I purposefully hadn't eaten breakfast as I knew that there would be a lot of tasting on the agenda and I didn't want to spoil my appetite, so the first thing we did was head to the main tent which housed of 100 different stalls with all desperately trying to get your attention (well some more than others) using the offers of free tasters. My dad, who has a reputation within our family of ruthlessly trying to get money off things or for free would have been in his element as samples were coming thick and fast, you could definitely have made a meal from all the little bits and pieces that you were given. I sort of felt sorry for those trying to sell things as most people (including myself) had no intention of buying most things, we just savoured the taste more because it was free.

How ever, I do take a very keen interest in finding out about artisan products and food that has been made locally or by small producers. There are so many exciting and innovative ideas out there that never make it to the shelves on supermarkets as most people can't afford the production costs or achieve the amount required for mass production.

I felt like Alice in Wonderland, I had seen the things that had said 'EAT ME' and 'DRINK ME' and from that point it was adventure of  fascinating, imagery, colours, sounds and colourful characters.

It was maybe a little overwhelming, every sensory organ is under fire, so many things to smell, see, taste and also you have a lot of people talking to you trying to convince you to spend £5 on a box of Granola or small bar of chocolate (small production means higher prices I guess. I sometimes found myself in a little bit of a daze, feeling like I had stopped still whilst everything was on triple speed all around me. My mind was trying to keep up with my eyes and ears and mouth and I think when you have sensory overload your mind goes into shut down. 

I do have to say, it wasn't a horrible feeling, in fact, it was more like a buzz, a high. For the first time in a long time I was actually enjoying myself, to the point of giddiness. I think it was just that although I knew we had the whole day but I was afraid we would not be able to get it all in. 

We took some time out from the tasting of food and the jostling crowds and settled in a couple of seats at the Graeme Kidd stage to watch one of the UK's top chefs, Alan Murchinson (He's the ginger Scottish chef who appeared on Great British Food Menu and came across a little brash and cocky but never got any of his dishes on the menu

He was actually quite funny and amazing to watch. He created simple dishes with Goats Cheese as the key ingredient, but he managed to make them look absolutely stunning. He spoilt it a little bit though with his shameless plug for his new book.

The only disappointing part of the day was when we went in search of the pudding tasting hall, only to be told as we approached that all the puddings had gone and it was now closed for the day. Rick said it looked like I would cry and he saw a tremble of my bottom lip, might even have been a pout. If I had been 30 years younger there might've been a full blown tantrum!

As you can see from the smile on my face, it was a great day and one that will be the highlight of 2012 for me

Surprisingly, I was quite tame in terms of purchasing and only ended up buying a few things - a majority if not all, of the sweet nature, all of which were consumed either that night or over the next couple of days.

oh for the love...

This week I feel like I've spent much of the time shouting or snapping at the kids. There were genuine reasons I hasten to add and here is the evidence...

1. Olivia throwing food at me and then over the floor
2. Beau refusing to keep still whilst changing an incredibly stinky nappy
3. Both refusing to eat anything for lunch except cake
4. Olivia poking me in the face with a plastic fork
5. Both taking things out of the shopping trolley and trying to open packets and bags
6. Both screaming for a (third) bag of crisps as I tried to make my way around the   supermarket
7. Beau pouring his drink all over Olivia in the shopping trolley
8. Olivia screaming at the top of her lungs because Beau poured drink over her in shopping trolley
9. Beau refusing to eat his tea wanting only toast which Olivia then went on to continuously steal until I had to make some more only for it to be chucked on the floor and splashed across ceilings, walls, floors, chairs and me.
10. Both of them pretty much ignoring any thing I had to say!

To top it all off, Beau has ended up with a tummy bug over the past couple of days, so I have been up to my ears in puke and poo.

Today was probably the worst and boiling point was bubbling over profusely. First came that primal roar sound that you make when you don't know what else to say when angry. Then it was the walk away and then finally came the collapse on the floor followed by the tears - yes, I'm talking about me and not the kids.

They had literally driven me to the point of despair 

But why then do I feel so bad about it all?

Maybe it's the fear of being rejected by my kids. I fear that when I shout or show my frustration the love-o-meter go's down. But deep down I know that's not rational, I'm sure my mum shouted at me when I was a toddler (a lot when I was a teenager!!) but I still loved her immensely. 

It makes me think of all those children out there who suffer at the hands of an adult and I cannot imagine how anyone can not feel guilt when they cause distress of a child. 

When I look into their eyes though I see their vulnerability and know that they see me and Rick as their vital support system, so if I become this shouty snappy mum then how can they feel safe. I do have a short temper and I can get myself into a right old lather but I never want my kids to be afraid of me.

I know it's part of being a parent and you can't always be the good cop, I think I just feel sometimes that I myself am a child playing at being a mum and when we played at being mums and dads as children it was only ever the nice and fun stuff you did - equally, I don't remember the person that played the child in our game having screaming fits, rejecting the food mummy cooked or projectile vomiting all over floor!

The lost child scenario

So, we had our first lost child scenario this weekend and I think my heart has now settled back down into a normal beat pattern.

Event: Children's birthday party

Venue: a huge college hall with stairs leading off to many (many) rooms)

Number of missing children: 1

State of parents: frantic

State of child when found: non-plussed

It's every parents worst nightmare, the moment you realise that your child suddenly goes missing in an unusual and unfamiliar place. It begins with a nervous laugh, then a little amble towards where you last saw them - not there. Suddenly you feel like your head has been clamped between a vice as the pressure rushes to your head and every hair on your body starts to prickle. Your mind and vision become like that of Robocop, honing in on doors, windows, open staircases with a blaring red light flashing on the screen. Whilst your mind is heavy with fear, your body itself feels light as you run with the speed of a leopard dashing to and fro, from room to room and up and down multiple flights of stairs two maybe three at a time. It also seems like you have instantly become visually impaired and lose the inability to really see what you are looking at or into because your brain is moving so fast that you just aren't taking anything in. Very soon, your legs get heavy and you just become glued to the spot and you just stop dead, feeling completely helpless, every breath you take is laboured and there's a loud buzz in your head like static on a TV.

Believe it or not, this all happened in the space of 3 minutes at the end of which Beau was found happily tapping away on a computer in some class room. It wasn't long at all between him going missing and being found, but in that short amount of time my emotions had run a marathon and my body ached from the shock. 

Of course, it wasn't just me that experienced this, Rick was me and normally he is quite good under pressure, but I have to say it's probably the first time that I looked into his eyes saw real fear.

Neither of us were to blame, it was, as most people do say, a nano-second. We were talking to someone, both of us looked at Beau and he was standing at the door with his drink, then we looked at our friend and then back to Beau and he was gone. Fortunately, as it was a children's birthday party, there were a lot of parents present, so they appreciated our distress and many of them joined us on the hunt for Beau whilst at the same time reassuring his flapping parents that he would be found.

These things just heighten the sense of responsibility that you have for that little persons life, their safety is in your hands and whilst you do everything you think you can to protect them, it literally takes the blink of an eye or a misplaced decision for things to happen. 

I think maybe you get this kind of misguided confidence as a parent because you enter into a situation many times and it means you become less alert and maybe a little lackadaisical and take for granted that you and your children will be fine, and then BOOM something like this happens to knock you off your parental pedestal.

But at the same time, I think that you also have to know that even though it has happened it does by no means make you a bad or irresponsible parent. So from this experience, my heart goes out to people like the parents of Madeline McCann, who I believe are very good parents and were in a situation that they believed they had under control, and were victims of terribly unfortunate circumstances.


Fortunately, we were lucky and there was a happy ending, and in a black comical way, it's one to strike off on the list of "what to expect when you become a parent" along with.... 

Jumping out into the road
Lodging of peas up nose
Falling off climbing frame or bike
Swallowing of sharp, big, foreign objects
Fiddling with electrical equipment

Need I go on!!

The skin that I'm in

So I've never hidden the fact that I have issues with the perception of my body and it has truly been a struggle since I've had the twins. Most recently I've been in a battle with my own mind and what I see in the mirror. When I look in the mirror, I don't look at my face, (hence the fact my eyebrows are so bushy) I look at my body poking, proding and pulling at it like a piece of dough. It changes on a daily basis, my head will be telling me I look OK and then I look in the mirror and mind and vision don't match and the next day it's the complete opposite.

There's no doubt that my body has changed since being pregnant, but also I'm 34 years old now and I think I need to start looking in the mirror and not expecting to see the body of a child or young girl.

In a previous blog I said that I was 80% happy with my body, I think it's still the same, so why hasn't that changed? Why do I still care so much?

I have lived with these demons since the age of 13, not a day goes by when I don't think to, panic about and berate myself over how I look, what I eat and how much exercise I've done. My mind is like a ticking time bomb. Today I got upset because I could no longer see my ribs - that shocked me a little bit, what a terrible thing to get upset about and want to still see, but I did - do.

It's very much a mental thing, I know that, I'm a slightly extreme case, but I know I'm not alone in that daily battle with body perception. Most of my female friends are or at some point have been on a diet and we spend a lot of time talking about our weight, our diet, what we eat and how much we exercise. But there never seems to be an end goal, it's as though our minds our computed to have this kink in it that stops us from being completely happy with who we are.

The reason I am friends with my friends is because they are genuinely nice, funny, interesting and caring people, and hopefully my friends feel the same way about me. Yet it doesn't seem to be enough for us, we want to be told how beautiful we look and we want people to notice our weight loss or change in body shape, whether it be our closest friends and family or the postman.

I'm not saying I wish I could just drop the dumbbells, plug in the deep fat fryer and become Waynetta Slob, no I just would once in a while like to wake up and not immediately think about how what I might eat that day would make me put on weight, not be tortured by what I saw in the mirror, and not feel unhappy with the skin that I am.

A snippet from my first book

OK people, here is a snippet from my first novel and I want to know if you think I should carry on writing it.

It's about a young women who ends up getting a job in entertainment PR and ends up managing bands and celebrities. The book shares all her experiences and is really a look at behind the scenes of celebrity. I was inspired by reading magazines such as Heat and Now, along with gossip websites. Having worked in PR myself, I know that not all stories are true and some are made to cover up possible scandals and scenarios.

This is really what I would call an easy read, beach and sun lounger fodder..let me know what you think...

My brother must’ve for a millisecond felt a pang of pity for me one day, or was getting slightly miffed that I was bagging his prime spot on the sofa and stealing all his food; that he decided to invited me to a gig of band that one of his mates was in.

 I spent the afternoon going through my suitcase (my brother only had one wardrobe and that was bulging with clothes that I’m certain he had carried over from his university days almost 15 years ago!) to try and find something to wear that looked relatively cool. I wasn’t particularly into fashion then. Whenever I read a magazine, I’d skip past the pages advising you how to look stylish, or what shoes and handbags to help accessorise: Instead, I went straight for the celebrity gossip and news, trying to decipher what was real and made up. Ask me about what colour is in for the season and I wouldn’t have a clue, but get me talking about whose going to be in the next season of Strictly Come Dancing, I could probably tell you.

 After practically emptying my case, I managed to pull together an outfit that I thought would blend in with the uber cool music crowd of London without looking like I tried too hard. The outfit being a pair of skinny jeans, an off the shoulder t-shirt and a pair of heels that I felt I would be able to walk in by the end of the night. 

Being a devoted trainer wearer, I tend to try and avoid heels if possible. Spending hours balancing on a thin stick of plastic felt quite torturous. Me and heels just didn’t seem to agree, I’d seen men in drag walking in heels more comfortably than me! But as I’m no Elle Mcpherson my legs needed a little boost in order to carry off the skinny leg jean look.

 By the time I’d got dressed and attempted a half decent effort at hair and make-up, my brother was literally throwing my jacket and bag at me and pulling me out the door. Having not had a girlfriend for a while, he had forgotten that when asking the question “how long you going to be” and the girls response being “10 minutes”, he should then calculate that it would actually be more like half an hour and maybe just play on his X-box for a while rather than sighing loudly and swearing under his breath. 

Me and my brother had a funny kind of relationship, he was older than me by a few years and I think he stopped adding a year to my age from about the time I was 10, therefore I felt like I was still his annoying little sister who was too uncool to have a normal conversation with. Don’t get me wrong, he was a pretty good big brother, reliable when needed and always indirectly making sure I was OK, but we weren’t exactly close back then.

 Whilst we were on the tube heading into the centre of London I attempted to make conversation with Ben but he was more interested in catching up on Wayne Rooney’s twitter feed than he was talking to me, so I fished out the latest copy of xx magazine from my bag to indulge in a bit of celebrity gossip and scandal. 


Some people have an addiction to cigarettes, others alcohol, but mine was celebrity gossip . I didn’t actually believe most of it that was half the fun for me, trying to decipher or detect which stories were made up. There’s a lot of talk about those of us who have a gaydar, but I tended to concentrate more on my PRdar or spindar i.e. stories made up by celebrities publicists / managers / agents etc, etc, in order to keep their client in the public eye – or sometimes to avert everyone from a story that they don’t want us to find out about.

 I quickly read a story about a random soap star who was dating a footballer whilst two timing him with wannabe bad boy pop star, but it turned out that the footballer was two timing her with the pop stars sister who was a glamour model, oh Jeremy Kyle would be salivating right now I thought. The next page ran a feature on an up and coming pop act who was being touted as the UK’s answer to Britney Spears (pre umbrella wielding psycho) / Katy Perry. Basically she was very young (17), very pretty and could write songs. She’d been discovered on You Tube (aren’t they all) by an American record label and had already had a top ten single in the Billboard charts in the USA, but now as she was British she was coming back to the UK to put the “bang back into pop” their words not mine. 

As I was reading about how much she missed Fish and Chips and Walkers crisps, I noticed my brother reading over my shoulder. He clocked me and quickly tutted and said “I can’t believe you still read that rubbish.”“Is this the same rubbish that I’ve found twice by your bed?” I replied with a smirk“Yeah, well, I couldn’t get to sleep and there was nothing else to read as I’d chucked out all my music magazines.”“Hmm, yeah right.” I rolled my eyes and carried on reading until the lady voice of the tube announced we had arrived at our destination. 

The venue was just a short walk away from the station, which was a good thing because my brother walked quite quickly and it was a little difficult keeping up with him in my heels. So I tottered behind him, trying to keep my balance and not fall and break my ankle before safely reaching the line of people who were queueing to get in. As I went to get in line, Ben tugged on my top and nodded in the direction of the door where an Alexa Cheung look-a-like, oozing with scary cooldomness, stood looking stern with a clipboard in hand.

 Following my brother along the line, I could feel many pairs of eyes drilling into me. I never really felt comfortable with the whole getting on the guest list thing and passing all the pissed off looking people who had been waiting for ages to get in to something they’ve paid for unlike the queue jumpers, it’s almost like you’re made to feel ashamed as you pass them by. 

As we approached the door the girl gave me a beady look as if to say “get ready to be turned away pronto” but then she saw my brother and broke out into a massive grin and I think I even saw a hint of pink spread across her cheek as if she was very pleased to see him.


“Hi Si, I saw your name was down on the list but I know what you’re like, you say you’re coming and then don’t bother.”Simon gave her a quick peck on the cheek and she giggled“You know what it’s like Tilly, always busy, always busy. But when I heard you were playing guard dog tonight I thought I’d come down and see if you’d bite.”“Oh Si, you know I don’t bite, but I do scratch!!”She gave him a very knowing look and suddenly I felt like this was a conversation that I really didn’t want to be listening to. Without trying to make it too obvious, I shuffled my feet towards my brother’s shoe and kicked his toe. He looked over at me as if he’d forgotten I was there.“Oh yeah, Tills, this is my little sister, Lyla, she’s staying with me whilst she’s looking for job in London job and so as her kind and loving brother I’m providing her with food and warmth for free.”I gasped and interrupted“Let’s just drop kind, loving, food and warmth, seeing as you don’t even know how your oven works and I’ve spent most of my time walking around with a hot water bottle because you’re central heating keeps packing up.”Tilly gave a Si a gentle smack on the arm and laughed“Si, I think even though I’ve only just met your sister I definitely will take her word rather than yours.”“Hi, Lyla, sorry for the daggers, it’s just my show face, I’m a softy really.”I smiled and replied. “Yes, I did almost turn and head to the back of the queue again.”“Well any sister of Si’s certainly has my sympathy.”“Ah well any friend of Simon certainly has my admiration.”“Hey what is this, stamp on Simon night?” My brother butted in “I knew I should never mix family and friends, it’s a recipe for disaster. I better get you in before you start showing people baby photos Ly.” He smirked.“Are you going to after-show party Si?” Tilly called out after us“Hmm, not sure, bit knackered really and might just head home when the lads have finished.”


Tilly looked glum and turned back to the queue looking even sterner than before. I gave Simon a dig in the ribs with my elbow.“Ouch, what was that for.”“Either you’re completely oblivious or just evil; do you not realise that she is completely smitten with you?”“What Tills? Nah, we always have a bit of banter, besides she’s too cool for me.”I stopped in my tracks. Simon, to me had always given off this sense of aloof confidence; he had no time for nonsense talk and could be quite acerbic in conversation.“God, you’re such a bloke! the signs are all there.”Simon suddenly seemed a little uncomfortable; we’d never really discussed our relationships before, I think it goes back to the fact that in his eyes I will always be about 10 and therefore any talk of men was just not good.He started looking around the venue as though he had not heard what I had said.“Come on, I see some of my mates by the bar.”With that he dashed off ahead of me and I had to stand on my tip toes to follow his head. 

When I finally caught up with him, he was already deep in conversation with a guy who was probably in his 40’s but dressed like Liam Gallagher circa 1997. He had greying hair which flopped over his face and even though it was boiling hot and sticky in this place, he was wearing a long green coat. Next to him was a petite girl, with very straight hair that flicked up at the bottom. She had on a short 70’s style dress that pulled in at the waist and flowed out at the knee. As it seemed that Simon was now ignoring me I decided to go and talk to her.


“Hi, I’m Simon’s sister, Lyla.”For a moment the girl just stared at me and then replied,“Erm, right, yeah.” Then just looked straight past mePart of me wished I’d just stayed outside with Tilly talking about Simon“So how, how do you know Simon?”Again for a moment she didn’t reply and when she responded she did it without looking at me.“Don’t really know him that well actually, he’s friends with my boyfriend, Desi, the singer in Fortune Founders.”“Oh right, that’s the band on tonight isn’t it.”She looked at me as though I was speaking in Japanese“Sorry, I’ve not been in London that long so I don’t really know many local bands.”“Actually, they’ve already had a single out and been on BBC Radio 6 loads of times.”She said with a hint of exasperation“Oh, wow, that’s great. I guess I must be totally out of sync with music, I’m still listening to all my music from uni and that was a couple of years ago now.”She gave me the weakest of smiles and then looked over my shoulder as if to see if she could make an escape somewhere. I suddenly felt like I was at school again standing next to the coolest girl in school with my braces in and fuzzy untamable lion’s mane hair.


Fortunately, Tilly was coming towards us with a couple of other people.“Hey Lyla, you OK?”“Erm, yeah, yeah,” I looked over to where the other girl was standing and she had now fully turned her back to me, then turned back to Tilly and shrugged my shoulders.“I see you had the pleasure of meeting Georgia. Don’t worry she’s like that with pretty much everyone, unless you were Anna Wintour or some top fashion designer. She’s fashion editor for some Z list celeb magazine but she thinks it’s comparable to Vogue!”As I mentioned earlier, fashion had never really been a dominant factor in my life, and maybe Georgia had sussed that quite quickly.“Oh, think I might just come in a rain mac next time so she can’t see what clothes I’m wearing.”Tilly laughed and shook her head.“I couldn’t give a shit about what she thinks, just cause she writes about fashion doesn’t mean she knows what it is. Most of the stuff she features in her column is pretty much from the PR people who send her loads of freebies. It’s all pretty much the same all the time. It’s the same with a lot of journalists, the more you give the nicer they are to you and the more column inches you get.”


She went on to tell me about how she really struggled at first when she started out in her job working for the music management and PR agency that looked after Fortune Founders. Journalists would put the phone down before she even had a chance to tell them about the bands she was looking after. Some would shout at her for wasting their time even though they had not even listened to the CD she sent.


“I realised I had to be more persuasive without being too pushy. So I just began inviting journo’s out for a drink and that seemed to heighten their interest.”As she said that, Tilly rolled her eyes.“But what about Si, he’s a music journalist, but I can’t believe he’s like that?” “Si’s a bit different than a lot of music journalists, he genuinely loves music. I don’t know many people that puts their music collection into categories and chronological order!”So she’d been to Si’s flat, I started to think that my brother was hiding something.

My run of Olympic emotions

The Olympics have left me with a mixture of emotions, so proud of what our British athletes were able to achieve, happy that we didn't end up with egg on our faces, and determination that I will get to the gym more than two times in the week. Yet it's also left me feeling a little deflated, the euphoria of seeing someone else win and achieve their dreams is soon followed by that melancholy thought that I might not ever achieve my own.

I am in awe of Jessica Ennis, Nicola Adams, Laura Trotter and co. When you looked into the eyes of all those athletes, you could feel their passion and drive and for an instant you are there with them and the adrenaline is pumping away through your body. When Mo Farrah was running that last 200m for the 5000m Gold, I was literally running on the spot faster and faster to keep up with him.

At the same time, I feel this twinge of envy. It's not really that they achieved their ultimate goal, it's more because they knew what it was. Me on the other hand, see nothing but a blank wall.

If I have to be brutally honest, my goal in life was never to be a mother, I never dreamt of white weddings,  pretty houses or babies. My thoughts as a child were (seriously) about standing out from the crowd, becoming a person of interest. I was in all essence, going to be a big success. And so my quest began...

The amazing thing about childhood is the amount of paths that you are allowed to follow, unfortunately as you get older it becomes more like a maze and if you're like me you just keep reaching the dead ends. I swear I have internal markings all over my body from the amount of times I've bumped into that wall!!

I think I lost focus, I wanted to do and be everything, so much so I never actually stuck at anything..what is it  that they say - 'the grass is always greener'. I guess maybe I never felt passionate enough about one thing. There was also always this unnerving feeling that I just wasn't quite good enough and that very soon people would also see that - so jump before getting pushed. Of course this is all in my head and if I look back at everything I've done, for the most part, I gave it 100 % and I had many 'YES' moments and sense of self smugness. But none of those were enough to make me feel like I'd found my place or my mark.

Here are a few things that I've done in my life

Waitress at Pizza Express - for the first year of this job I worked double shifts pretty much every day and hustled relentlessly for tips. Worked my way up to assistant manager but walked away from job to go and live in Leeds. Afterthought - should've just transferred and worked my way up to manager as I genuinely loved that job and now food is such a HUGE interest to me

Fitness instructor - spent 10 years on and off doing this, got really good at teaching classes and thrived on making people feel good about themselves. Afterthought - why didn't I do more courses and qualified as a personal trainer when given the opportunity

Public Relations - five years in this game. I achieved national coverage for many clients and helped raise the profile of others. That was good, but I felt like an imposter and that I was lucky rather than good at what I did. Most of the time I felt like I was in a very dark tunnel clutching at glimpses of light. Afterthought - I just needed a good mentor, everything I did I learnt by myself, there were glimpses of passion and a tiny flame that burned in my stomach.  Maybe I just needed to be shown the ropes a bit more and guided along the treacherous road that I found to be PR and I 'coulda been a contenda'

Alas, none of the above managed to be 'the one'. 

Like I alluded to earlier, some young girls dream of meeting 'the one', the perfect man. For me I was always dreaming of the perfect job and whilst some 30+ plus high flyer out there is crying into their chardonnay about their disastrous or hopeless quest of finding the right guy and ticking internal clock, I'm here at 30+ years old putting my perfect mans dishes in the dishwasher and wiping baby food off the floor!

For those of you who get the impression I didn't want children, that's not how it is at all, I love them with all my heart and they are my passion, but for me it was not an ultimate goal. It sounds wrong to say that I know, but my order in life was to make my mark and then make a mark for my children. It just didn't happen that way and I feel like I failed, like I missed out on a medal because I just didn't focus or try hard enough.

However, for me to be saying all this suggests that there is fire in my belly, I can feel it burning through my fingers as I type, I think I just need to maybe retrace my steps through my maze and finally find the way out.  It's just going to take a lot of work, strength and self motivation to do it, but if learnt anything from the Olympics is that if you try hard enough you can make things happen.