The Power of 200 Calories.

Out and about with the kids.

I recently re-homed my old treadmill in our sitting room.  Seemly, I know.

The friend it had been given it to is selling her house, so I grabbed the opportunity for it back with both hands feet and have even been on it a few times, burning 200 calories at a time, just walking on an incline for 35-40 minutes.

It's not difficult.  Finding the space to do it without the kids around *might* be.  They are utterly transfixed by it so won't buzz off to the garden where they can run around properly, preferring to watch me not doing so.

Mad, I know.

Anyway, before the concussion started playing funny games with my head again, it was becoming quite enjoyable shunning any food or drink that might otherwise have been wolfed without a moment's hesitation, because burning 200 calories takes enough time for me to not wanting to have wasted it by then consuming anything that contained anything like that number .

So this meant I couldn't have a latte, but I could have a glass of wine.
I wouldn't accept an ice cream, but I would have a glass of wine.
Beer in the garden with the students was a no no, but, well, you know.... a glass of wine was a guilt-free yes, please. My blog doesn't look like this for no reason.  There is a reputation to maintain.

And because I was more mindful of how many calories had been burned off and didn't casually chuck a load down my neck any longer, my clothes have started to fit me again, but don't be too impressed, because this lasted about a fortnight before there's been a bit of a relapse while I rest to help my head get better and now, the calories that are not being burned are no longer thus being spurned.

*Slaps Self*

Although keeping fit with the kids, out and about in parks, scooting, cycling, swimming, rollerblading (them), or walking everywhere (me), is probably using about the equivalent amount of energy, albeit over a longer period, it's not having the same impact, because it lacks the intensity and intention that watching 200 calories tick up on a treadmill can have on the soul.

In this light, a new pair of reebok trainers is called for as an incentive.  Isn't it weird how your feet change size and shape once you've had children - a bit like we do, it could be said!?  

I'm a trained Aerobics Instructor so I know how important it is to have correctly fitting footwear - it's something to bear in mind if you're returning to exercise after your kids have come on the scene and it's best to take it easy, build up slowly and learn how to use weights whilst walking if you want to.

Alas, it has given me no more discipline than anyone else - my reserves must have been drained, because although it might take months to properly recover from a head injury, it shouldn't be too hard to get it around the power of 200 Calories, should it? 


[Disclosure - I have been compensated for this post but was going to write it anyway and all words and pics are my own, obvs.].

When the Going gets Tough - the Tough go Shopping!

[Proud to be in partnership with John Lewis - I have arrived!].

We're on overload here.  Some new Foreign Language students and re-arranging a few rooms to make it possible, plus all the upheaval that entails, pushes me straight over into full immersion level in it.

It began with new beds for the children - their others were only meant to be temporary, but we know how many years that can go on for unchecked, then emptying what was their play room and all the palaver that comes with that - finding other places for everything to go as well as shifting all the alphabet and number posters, pictures, toys and stuff, followed by moving my long standing student to a different room and unexpectedly taking in the two 'emergency' ones while we're still in a mess.  

The school said they were cousins, a man and a woman, both 24 from South America and they were insisting on sharing a room.  This is most unusual as they don't normally allow students who speak the same language to stay in the same house, let alone in the same room.  I asked if they were a couple and the young girl on the 'phone, said of course they weren't, because they were cousins.

I felt obliged to dash her innocence and explain that might not necessarily preclude any hanky panky and pointed out that it was otherwise odd.

It turns out they're married accountants on an extended honeymoon and not remotely related, so perhaps it isn't so peculiar after all.

I swear the stress will kill me.

But hey ho, we're a full house now, there isn't a chance of dying alone!

Yet there is still just the small matter of where any friends might stay.  Not just the childrens' but my own - because they might not fancy the air beds.  We're all getting a bit creaky for that malarchy.

I need one of these sofabeds because they're perfect for sleep overs for people my age!

But do we need it in cream?  It's a toss up between this one and the duck egg blue for which is the loveliest, but, really, surely the stress of keeping such awesome gorgeousness spotless would prove too much?  We do not need overload overkill methinks!

'Mind the Mulberry!'

I am presently in the process of transferring my eldest son - just seven - from a fab but titchy infants school to an all through Primary / Junior one, ready to go into year three come September and am a bit worried about what we might have let ourselves in for.

It's all seems to be directly out of the great Diary of a Mummy Misfit book i.e. posh. 

This was what I heard on a beach near to it recently when some boys were playing nearby with a football and it came hurtling in our / their direction - if you haven't guessed already:

'Hey! Mind the Mulberry!'

Cue screeches of horror from the assembled circle of same colour bleached blonde, suspiciously very tanned ladies, sat in a circle, supposedly relaxing and showing off  chatting as they clutched their enormous handbags to their chests closer than they did any of their kids.

It was no doubt uttered in jest, but, really, purleeze, do you have to?

Yet - here's the thing - some of the conversations overheard around the school gates where we presently hang around leave so much to be desired that they can be earth shattering - swearing at the kids and the taking it up the butt talk - only much less delicately put than that, followed by 'Well you 'ave to let 'em don't ya?'.

Who knows what goes on behind closed doors at the new place - and who cares, to be honest, but - if something is going to coming at you all on full volume - which would you rather you and your children be subjected to?  And what kind of things do you hear?

 A Mulberry - John lewis £895