Not Now Later

Not a martyr or lazy mummy?

Two days a week my children are looked after by our nanny. She's been with us for almost two years and she is amazing. Thing is, I'm not a working mum providing for my family,  I don't have a job, I'm not even a very good housewife. Sometimes I find it hard to justify employing her.

The reason we decided to look for a nanny in the first place was my health problems. As well as being diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I have rheumatoid arthritis and every week I have to take a cocktail of medication that makes me feel pretty rotten.  The drugs mean that generally I stay mobile and in reasonably sane, but the side-effects are lousy. So two days a week the nanny comes to our house and takes over so that I have a bit of respite. 

It works perfectly; I haven't had a depressive or hypermanic episode in some time, I can take the particularly horrible immunosuppressant drugs for the RA once a week and it doesn't matter if I feel like a big pile of shit for two days plus I get a bit of extra sleep which helps better manage both the RA and the bipolar. But I still feel guilty. Most people have to struggle on. 

The kids are happy. They positively benefit from having an enthusiastic, lively, young nanny in their lives. It's just about the way I see myself. Those two days a week make me feel like less of a mother. I could be super mum for the other five days, but it's never enough. The 'nanny days' still make me feel like a lazy, part-time mum.

  

East vs West

I've spent the past couple of days in London. Yesterday involved a brief (kiddie free) jaunt to University College Hospital for a blood test, followed by a wander around some of my old shopping haunts. Then today I took the kids (Louis is officially no longer contagious) to Whitechapel to see my dad's MA show at London Met followed by lunch in Spitalfields with Ed, who managed to nip out of the office for an hour. 

Yesterday was pleasant. I sat on the train for half an hour of blissful peace with just my ipod and book for company. I breezed through the Underground unencumbered by a buggy or a dawdling four year old. I reveled in the liberating experience of entering a public toilet cubicle, solo. I drank a coffee at a leisurely pace in a cafe which probably didn't have baby changing facilities or highchairs. Finally, I ambled purposelessly around shops, just browsing.  It was refreshing and something I intend to do every once in a while now I have regular hospital appointments in central London.

Today was fun. After scraping breakfast off the floor, I bundled up the kids and dashed out of the door to the station, loaded down with buggy, snacks, nappies and all that other, day out sort of paraphernalia. 

Both of them love trains. Louis enjoys the mechanics, the noise and the motion. Tilly enjoys intimidating strangers with her stare, clambering over the seats and pointing at things out of the window. They were delighted to see my dad and even feigned a (very) slight interest in his work.  Louis documented the trip taking photos of other passengers, pigeons and his shoes. They ran around and collected figs and sticks in the courtyard at the Arts Bar and Cafe at Tonybee Studios. Tilly squealed with happiness when Ed came and found us waiting for him in the gardens near his office. We ate a lovely lunch in the very kiddy friendly Giraffe. And Louis reported that daddy's office was messy and his chair was broken after nipping into Ed's work for a wee (probably the highlight of the day for Louis.) 

Ok, so we struggled on escalators. Tilly attempted to deface artworks with her sticky fingers. There was orange juice spillage, the threat of an accident when Louis decided he urgently needed the toilet and there were complaints when little legs got a bit weary.  And of course, there were overtired tears by five o'clock, but not mine, honest! 

Back to school (for two days)

After a lovely Summer, Louis reluctantly went back to nursery last Thursday. It took some coaxing, but after a few tears he accepted that the holidays were over and it was back to the grind.

On Friday afternoon I took him to the doctors and happened to mention that he had a nasty patch of what looked like eczema on the side of his torso. The doctor examined him and announced that it wasn't eczema at all, but shingles. Shocked to see shingles in a four year old she asked another GP for his opinion. Yes, it's shingles and no he shouldn't have been at nursery and yes he will have to stay at home until it clears up. He has no other symptoms other than the rash and thankfully even the rash isn't causing any discomfort, but because it can cause chicken pox in others he obviously needs to avoid passing it on. So, after almost seven weeks of school holidays he is now delighted to discover that he is quarantine for another week. Luckily he has heaps birthday pressies (a mountain of Lego and Playmobil) to play with while he is under house arrest. 

Day Two

I've been quite useless at posting on here over the past couple of weeks and I'm not promising much for the immediate future given that at the end of a day like today I just feel like collapsing into bed the moment that the kids finally fall asleep. It's day two of the school Summer holidays and already, I suspect like many other mums, I'm wondering how on earth I'm going to cope for almost seven weeks.

Both children have got colds. No, not Swine Flu, just colds with fluorescent green snot and short attention spans. Neither of them are unwell enough to warrant a day in pyjamas watching telly and snoozing. But neither of them are well enough to present in public, much beyond a quick trip to the shops where they are instructed to sneeze only into their tissues and smother themselves in antibacterial hand gel whenever anybody so much as looks at them. Even during our very brief visit to Boots I received several disapproving glances from people who had caught a glimpse of those runny noses and decided that my kids were leaving a trail of Swine germs behind them.

If I thought there was any chance it was flu I wouldn't have even ventured out to the chemist, but I'm convinced it's not, mainly because neither of them have a fever or any other flu-like symptoms. So, it's just a cold, but until they are snuffle-free it looks like we're under house arrest.

I've got a personal trainer!

I'm on day 4 of EA Sports 30 Day Challenge on the Wii. It tells me that during today's workout I burnt off 150 calories. Hurray. That's almost a packet of Cadbury's Chocolate Buttons. I'm sure my stomach feels slightly flatter. At the very least I've released a few endorphins. 

Ed picked me up a Wii Fit package last year after I'd explained for the umpteenth time how the revolutionary balance board could transform our lives. Bemused, he watched me excitedly hula hoop in front of the tv, bounce around the sitting room on a short run and then inexpertly throw around a few yoga moves before collapsing in a satisfied, but slightly flushed heap on the floor. I didn't significantly lower my body mass index. I didn't drop a dress size. I probably even gained a few pounds last year, judging by the look of my podgy bellied mii. 

Maybe it's different this time though. I've already lost half a stone in the past month through following WeightWatchers. So firstly I'm motivated and keen to get fit and tone up. Secondly, compared to the humble Wii Fit, EA Sports is bloody hard work! The twenty five minute sessions make me sweaty and breathless.  It seems there are some muscles under there and when I wake up the following day they ache. That's a good sign isn't it? 

It remains to be seen if it will make any long term difference to my fitness levels. It's a poor substitute for a real life personal trainer and I've very likely been sucked in by another home fitness aid targeted at those too lazy to go to the gym, or go for a run. It can probably be filed alongside the aerobic, power pilates and boxercise dvds that came before. But let's see if I can at least manage another 26 days.