I’ve half a mind to change the name of this part of the blog to The Hypochondriac Chronicles – such is my propensity to moan. But honest to God I’m not even making it up – I’ve done meself another injury haven’t I.
Just when I was recovering from the sprained ankle and bashed in joints – which I neglected to tell you was not merely sustained by giving my 3 year old a piggyback but by giving my 3 year old who was dressed as Yoda a piggyback while I was dressed as Luke Skywalker ( because of course we were) – I did my back in climbing to the top of a Soft Play slide like King Kong, then breaking the sound barrier sliding down in my leopard print leggings with said child on my knee.
Then, in battening down the hatches in preparation for Storm Ophelia or Brian (or whoever’s the latest bad weather namesake), I dropped some heavy garden junk on my leg adding to my collection of bruises that now reflect the full colour palate of autumn Instagram – from darkest black to golden yellow.
I look and feel like boiled shite and have developed some real hypochondriac tendencies.
And I’m trying – I’m really fucking trying – to summon up some energy from somewhere, to get a bit of vitality in my life, to be remotely fit (I’m not talking Olympic hopeful here either I’m just talking make it up the stairs without getting out of breath). But it’s a vicious circle: without energy it’s hard to get fit and healthy; without being fit it’s hard to develop any vitality.
So as much as I tried to laugh off my recent clumsiness (and used the phrases “if it’s not one thing it’s another” and “been in the wars” probably more than I ever have before in my whole life or ever will again), it’s got me down that these setbacks have occurred when I’ve needed to magic some energy into my life the most.
I’ve been hobbling around, having to literally put my feet up, and comfort eating. Proper hypochondriac behaviour. Can you think of a worse recipe for getting and feeling fit and healthy? All I can do is wait to physically heal and keep my spirits up on the meantime; intent to focus on my Glow Up in other ways until I can move around more comfortably.
Anyway it’s not all woe is me (can’t imagine constant moaning makes good reading to anyone, no matter how sympathetic) and while I’ve been
sitting on my arse recuperating I’ve had plenty to feel positive about.
The Best Bits
I’ve had some promising emails this week and I don’t know how to phrase this without coming across like the divvy I obviously am but hopefully it means I can have a little foray into writing stuff that I’m passionate about for other websites. I’ll let you know if any of it pans out, and in the meantime please keep your fingers crossed for me.
Sometimes it’s the littlest things that make you the happiest and the other day as we walked home from Nursery School, we found a stand outside someone’s house with Bramley apples for passers by to help themselves to. Spaghetti Legs thought this was the best thing ever – and I have to admit it always makes me smile to see an honesty stall or free produce – so we filled up the pockets of his backpack and took some home. We cooked them in brown sugar and cinnamon and made a crumble which he loved. It was very Pinterest mom, and very autumn, and very much a triumph as the parent of a fussy eater. But most of all, it was just nice.
Until next time, wishing you a week of nice moments. And remember, nobody likes a hypochondriac.