Well, that was quite the week

LK either had gastroenteritis, or spectacular teething poos, or both: the seventh tooth is now safely through, and the eighth is hot on its heels.

The washing machine broke down. The repairman has been out twice already, hoping not to have to fit a new pump. A new pump is now sitting by the washing machine, ready to be fitted today. Hopefully all will now work, and N will stop leaving coins in his trousers. Damn expensive, those 5 pence pieces. Damn expensive. Of course, a baby with an explosive bottom (twice in the bath! TWICE!) and a non-functional washing machine is such a delightful combination. The washing machine man is due again today. Time unspecified. This has interrupted running and general lifemin no end (I want to go out at lunchtime and take my laptop to see if a spot more memory can be fitted, as it’s just so slow, and maxing out its memory. It’s 9 years old, so it’s had a good innings – but I think it’s got a bit more life left in it yet). Utterly frustrating. I have little enough time as it is, without losing it to other people’s washing machines. The washing machine is currently running on a wing, a prayer, and a sealant-stuck filter. It may or may not hold out until the repairman arrives. I can’t do any laundry until he’s been and gone today – because he doesn’t need to be hanging about waiting for laundry to finish. Nor does he need to be hanging about draining half-done laundry. At least the nappy wash made it through before the thing went hatstand.

We had to drive down to Dorset for a funeral in the middle of the week. LK fell asleep about fifteen minutes before we arrived, then woke up five minutes after it started. Fortunately, there was a loo and a vestibule at the lovely natural burial site, so I could deal with the explosive poo, and then have a quiet space to play with her while the service went on. Hampshire (we’re practically in Surrey) to Dorset and back in a day is utterly exhausting, even with a well-behaved (albeit pooey) baby. She charmed the socks off everyone.  It chucked it down with rain (it chucked it down with rain at the last funeral I went to. Two funerals in the space of two weeks is two too many, frankly).

I have had nipple thrush almost constantly for the past fortnight. I though it had gone. It has not. Grrr. I am fed to the back teeth of dosing myself and LK with various anti-fungals. She seems to be symptom free. But I think she gave it back to me last week. Yes. Still breastfeeding. Wondering why, because of the aforementioned thrush. Never wanting an antibiotic again (although, oddly, my digestion is vastly improved since the antibiotics – I used to lie in bed at night and swear I could feel food moving through, and pockets of gas popping about. These symptoms have gone with the antibiotics. Makes sense. That all started after LK had a horrible vomiting bug in October last year, which she gave to me, and after which my digestion did not feel right. Nick had the same thing, but didn’t seem to have the longer term effects).

I did not manage to go for a run on Thursday (too knackered). So I did intervals on Saturday morning. Not the best preparation for a 12 mile run on Sunday. That was an epic plod after a brief lie-in (it is impossible to have a proper lie in when LK wakes and wants feeding twice in the first hour of the day. It gets a bit interrupted. I got lucky on Sunday, and N took her downstairs to play for half an hour between feeds while I languished in bed). Still. I am hoping that I am going to smash Farnham Pilgrim Half in a couple of weeks (by smash, I mean be slower than I was while I was training for Berlin Marathon, but faster than I was the last time I ran it. I’m hoping for 2:15 on an undulating course).

I’ve been feeling anxious and depressed: but using my CBT techniques so mostly holding it together. It is helpful to be so knackered that it’s impossible to manage the mindfulness techniques. Failing that, there’s always detective novels to read at 4am.

And I fell out with one of my friends on Friday night. I have apologised, but I have a supsicion that my text-message based overreaction (a combination of many things on Friday night, none of which I need to go into, all of which I feel somewhat ashamed about, some related to the aforementioned anxiety) means she’ll never speak to me again. Which is a huge shame, but probably calmer for both of us in the longer term.

This week will be better. For a start, we don’t have to go to a funeral.





I do realise

That my declaration about deciding to buy British yarn does make me sound like a bonkers Brexiteer. Honestly. I’m not. It’s got more to do with reducing my carbon handprint. I have heaps of pretty yarn I want to knit up. I won’t stop buying local souvenir yarn when travelling. I am sure I will slip sporadically. I have one last slip-up planned.

N ran all six major marathons (New York, Chicago, Berlin, Boston, Tokyo, London). He has had socks knitted for every single one: for New York, we’d been going out a scant six weeks at that point and I sent him into Purl Soho to choose some yarn (he chose lurid green as he’d run the marathon to fundraise for Macmillan Cancer Support) for socks, demonstrating his knitworthiness. He gets an extra pair for the extra sparkly medal he got for completing 6 marathons, and he wants a specific colour scheme for that. My slip-up will be the custom dyed yarn. I want to use the same Etsy seller as I used for his Tokyo socks yarn, and she’s based in the USA. So that little package will travel a long way. But she’s fabulous and reliable. See how bonkers those stripes are? And they match the colours on the Tokyo marathon website menu perfectly when seen in real life.


All of a sudden you have a 1 year old

Actually, LK is 13 months old, near as dammit, now. And trying to stand, and wanting to walk, and crawling about like a speed demon. All those things that babies do when they stop being babies and start being toddlers.

In the meantime, we’ve had solar panels fitted (goes with the reusable nappies. Now it’s, well, when we’ve paid it off, more-or-less free to wash the nappies. At any rate, we’re not paying the electric company, we’re making our own!). N turns 50 next week. I’ve managed to run a half marathon – the Midsummer Munro. It took about 3 and a half hours, but, my, it was insanely hilly. I’ll do it again next year. My aims were under 3 hours, and to not be last. I was not last. There was one point where it all felt harder than when the first epidural didn’t work during labour, but that lasted about five minutes, and I got over myself. I really recommend this one as a race.

I am running. Three times a week. I’m somehow beginning to hit speeds I haven’t hit since 2016 – I credit Laura. She’s awesome. She used to coach my Monday night club sessions, and she now coaches me online, one-to-one (work has this amazing benefit that we get money towards health and wellbeing – which is then taxed at source – which means it’s affordable to have a running coach and enter the odd race). My pelvic floor mostly holds out, my core really could benefit with more work than my holding my stomach in sporadically (hey, it’s a start), and I have given up on the idea that I’ll ever fit into my old sports bras again. I’m only feeding LK twice a day now, but even just after she’s drained me out, there is still more boobaliciousness than there used to be. And my underband measurement (or whatever it is) has increased by 2 inches. There doesn’t seem to be any more fat lurking on my ribcage than there used to be….odd what pregnancy does to a body.

I’m also anxious, and worried: the usual. Climate change and Donald Trump and Brexit. Will LK have any sort of a future? What will her world be like in 40 years time? Will she have a family, a job, a home? Will she have enough water and food? Hopefully, a good enough future. Hopefully not on a destroyed planet. Hopefully, we’ll all be getting better at making small changes. Because lots of small changes make for big change. My lying awake at 4am worrying doesn’t help anything. My remembering my water bottle, eating vegetarian food as far as possible (my downfall is porcine goodness), taking public transport, driving a prius, making stock out of vegetable peelings, looking for plastic-free (or very much reusable) alternatives will help. I am lucky enough to have the wherewithal to do this.

I’ve also nearly finished N’s London Marathon socks, and his Mum’s ridiculously twisty cable socks (photos will happen). I’ve decided that I’m going to reduce my carbon footprint yarn-wise – concentrating on buying yarn produced from British Baaaas. Using the patterns I already have. And so forth. As far as possible (look. I’m only human).

(Gin and second sock on a plane. Yes. Am woman of contradictions. Was in Indy for 2 days last week…)