Archive for the ‘goals’ Category

Lots of things are more historic than a new famous baby.

July 22, 2013

A lot of historic things have happened in the last week. Marriage equality has happened here. TMD and I went away alone for a night. The kids’ adoption went through – we had no idea till today. But after almost exactly four years, the kids finally have two legal mothers.

And another thing. I wore skintight cropped leggings on the past two evenings for my walk. That shit is something I never thought I would say.

They are so gross but SO COMFORTABLE.

I am trying to reemerge, folks. These nightly walks have literally taken all my time and energy. It is a big commitment. I have a rest when TMD gets home, because my days can be tiring but also because it is currently hotter than the sun, then go on late night walks and come home and write a bit about them.

Oh, the sheer rocky ride of finding the discipline to go out every single night. It has been a tough settling in period, and even now, on day thirty four, I wouldn’t say I’ve settled. I have missed three nights – two due to pelvis problems, one due to a cat slashing my fucking toe open – but I am getting there.

More and more I am thinking about starting a more public blog. I miss posting pictures with heads, real names, being more easily able to connect with people who live near me. I hung out with a good friend I met courtesy of this blog earlier in the week and we discussed this a bit.

I have often started ‘niche’ blogs, only to drop them because I like writing about all of life. So I think a new blog would be like this, but with more personal details…and less ranting about family members. Something to think on. And whether I’d keep this blog going, which I think I might.

It’s a dramatic week. Snort’s collarbone is still causing him pain, I’ve found a brown itchy spot on my labia, of all places, and we both have doctor appointments Thursday. The kids also danced on a stage in front of 7000 people, which was awesome, and I got to hang out with a friend ALL BY MYSELF AT NIGHTTIME. Another historic thing.


July 11, 2013


I’m sorry I haven’t written. In a way, this challenge of walking thirty minutes a day is taking over. It sounds silly, but I have a quick rest in the evenings, then walk, then write about walking. Then, blessed sleep. So I am over on the Facebook page I mentioned in the last entry. Please come like it because I think I am hitting the point where i need lots of encouragement! Drop a comment here if you can’t find it. And if you are on there, leave a message on the wall telling me who you are and I’ll befriend you from my real Facebook account.

The next thing?

Snort broke his collarbone today. I don’t have too much energy left after today, so perhaps I will write more tomorrow, but wtf. Poor kid. He’s totally happy and mostly fine, and was SO HAPPY he got to have x rays. It was like all his Disneyland dreams came true. You’ve never seen someone more geeked about a trip to the hospital.

He wasn’t so pleased when it happened, and thank god my friend Lauren was there. He was hurting so much he didn’t want to walk, so he got to ride in Jazz’s pushchair back to the car. But that’s it for now. More soon. Hope you are all well…

I miss you.

30-365 THREE

June 21, 2013

The only thing I thought tonight’s walk would have going for it was that I was wearing sandals, shorts, and a sweatshirt. Such a summer’s evening outfit, I thought, even as I stifled a yawn and cursed having to leave the house. I planned on an amble, taking it easy as I’m sore from yesterday.

Well, I didn’t count on the storm system that was blowing in. The wind was cold and fierce, and at one point I realised I was leaning into it and it was holding me. I went along to the woods/meadow I walked in the first night, hoping for shelter, and you know what? It was AWESOME. The wind was whipping the leaves of all the trees upside down, so they looked all silvery. The grasses in the meadow were rippling violently and it was just beautiful. That wind blew a smile onto my face, and I swear I opened my arms up and just smiled so wide I thought my face would crack in half.

On the way home, the wind dropped and I actually felt disappointed. In the stillness I noticed how achey my legs were – it would be a lie to say they weren’t – but then I realised I was thinking about my legs. Muscle aches. I didn’t even notice my pelvis. And that was the greatest gift the absent wind gave me. I felt like the old me, the ‘normal’ me, who was feeling the same aches and pains any other able bodied person might feel.

You’d better believe I smiled even bigger then, and the wind kicked up again just as I did. It was perfect.

30 minutes, 3.2 mph, 1.64 miles

30-365 TWO

June 21, 2013

30-365 TWO

Woah nelly. Decided to wear proper trainers with the orthotics I was prescribed before I was disabled. Big. Mistake. Back of my pelvis was so sore I wondered how I was going to get home at one point – but being alone on a cycle track in the middle of nowhere, the only person who could rescue me was me.

Glad I went. Yesterday I walked on a path I’d never been on, through stunning meadows and trees. Today I walked on a new path, surrounded by trees by right alongside a very busy road that slashed through countryside and rolling hills. Lots of thinking about how nature and people function alongside.

Walked a very sweaty and painful 36 minutes, 3.4 mph, 2.07 miles.

Onward and upward, and thanks to Carrie for the motivation YouTube link this morning!

What I just posted on Facebook. (30/365 ONE)

June 19, 2013

I remember how I felt that evening two years ago when I walked fifteen minutes without any assistance. I dubbed it ‘the summer I would learn to walk again,’ and after two years full time in a wheelchair, and still on crutches every day, it seemed a big task.

I developed symphysis pubis dysfunction during pregnancy, and I still have it – along with the resultant arthritis – today. But I haven’t used a wheelchair in a year, though I’ve had a handful of days where I couldn’t walk. I’ve only used crutches on less than ten occasions.

Today I start a new goal – thirty minutes of walking every day for the next 365 days. Walking can be substituted with a DVD, class, etc. I may have to be flexible in cases of severe relapse or illness, but would prefer to swap walking for meditation or stretching on those occasions.

These thirty minutes have to be separate from whatever other activity I may have done that day – like walking miles at the seaside today and being sore before I even went out this evening!

I’m doing this for head space, for time to rediscover me, to work on my next novel, to explore my neighbourhood, to get more healthy – and I guess, I’m doing this because I’m just so grateful I can. After being told I may be in a wheelchair for life, after finally coming close to coming to terms with daily, chronic pain, I can walk. I don’t want to forget how amazing that is.


So here is where you come in. I’m posting this publicly because I need support. I know my motivation will flag and I will want to give up. I need likes and comments and support. I won’t flood your news feeds and I will never write a status this long again, but I WILL post every day.

Today is day one. I walked for 33 minutes, 2 mph, for 1.11 miles.

Thought processes of a mother of three year old twins.

June 4, 2013

Today is the day for ‘Pirate Ship Storytelling, ‘ the one day a month where we crowd into a room with lots of people, find a comfortable cushion, and let this totally amazing weirdo spin tales of goddesses, shipwrecks, and treasure islands. Then we wander around the top deck of a huge ship, because we are too afraid of the statue people (aka mannequins) on the lower decks. We eat lunch, maybe outside, always chips. Wander along the river, maybe climb into a boat for a breezy ride.

It is always an amazing day, and it is today, so then how come I woke up thinking, ‘Oh, JESUS, I just want to stay home’? Even at the risks of more Jehovah’s Witnesses, even with the annoyance of trying to stay awake in the late afternoon.

So then the guilt kicks in. And I think, ‘Hey, no big deal if we skip that even though we also skipped last month. It is a beautiful day. This may be the only beautiful week of the summer. Wait, I know! We should go to the zoo! They can splash in the little kid fake river and we can just wander around.’

Then my pelvis aches, my inertia keeps me sitting here in bed (though showered and dressed) while the kids lay together in Snort’s bed watching YouTube videos about people making Angry Birds out of playdoh.

So I think, let’s take it easy, let’s stay in, then maybe later we can go to the little farm around the corner. I test it out. No immediate objections of my mind or body. Coconut suggests the library, and I think, yeah, okay, I can handle that. No weird time limits, stressful drives across town, etc. We can wander and maybe buy them chips in the little cafe we sometimes go to.

Still I sit here, wondering if I am somehow shortchanging my children, even as my head knows it is GOOD for generic children and great for MY children to play outside, to have empty hours to fill with imagination, to just do what we want. My mother guilt kicks in, and I think, Jesus, am I depressed? Is that why I don’t want to go out? Or is this chickenpox hangover? Or am I just the laziest person in the universe?

I remember summers past, how time somehow slows down and stretches out, how we do less but it feels like more, how we have lazy days watering plants and drawing with chalk and splashing in the garden. And as I write these words, as the visceral memory of two babies who could not yet sit up stretched out in the sunshine, as two bigger babies crawled like maniacs later that summer, it comes back to me. I remember the next year, the daily trips to the park, the wandering hikes in the woods, eighteen months old and walking for an hour on narrow paths littered with roots and stones.

I remember all that a lot more clearly, more sweetly, than most of our trips out. The days we accidentally have a great time doing nothing, but what a shame- they can’t be planned. They just have to happen.

But I guess what I can do, what I can try to not feel guilty about, is giving them an opportunity to happen.

Aaaaand adoption kicks off!

January 10, 2013

Holy crap, you guys, we have a social worker!!

For those not in the loop, here in Country B if a lesbian couple who is legally partnered go through fertility treatment at a clinic, both are automatically listed on the birth certificate. This was not always the case. In fact, the law changed to this more equality and reality driven model a scant four months after we conceived. This means we have had to do a lot of shit to protect our family – wills in case I died in childbirth, a brief court trip and some paperwork to get TMD parental responsibility, etc. we have also been on the waiting list for TMD to officially adopt Snort and Coconut since they were infants.

Once they are adopted, their birth certificates will be amended. We view this as rectifying an error and not as traditional adoption, seeing as we are the only family unit the children have ever known. It will also offer us more security and possibly affect immigration issues. So it’s a big deal.

I’ve been desperate for this to happen before they were school age for many reasons. The major thing I am concerned about is the confusion or distress the process may cause them. TMD clarified our situation with the manager today and hopefully the worker and her student will be sensitive to our unique family needs. The second reason is the slight chance we may slip through the net and be able to remain unknown as home educators. It doesn’t really matter too much if we become known, but there are potential pains in the asses I would like to avoid.

So last week I wrote a letter explaining all of my concerns as a parent and a professional (I’m a trained, qualified, and eligible for accreditation counselor, for those who don’t know). I sent it to two friends to have a read and elicit opinions. All I needed to do was hunt down the addresses for the main point of contact and some other influential bigwigs so we could post this thing next week.

Anyway, I got a text from TMD saying, ‘The universe read your letter. We have a social worker!’

And it gets better.

She needs to begin work with us immediately, as the whole thing needs to be wrapped up in SIX WEEKS. There may be a delay in our court date, but all the meetings and paperwork will be done. A-fucking-men, am I right?

Now that this whole thing is starting, I’m a bit angry we have to go through it in the first place. Also a bit anxious, despite knowing we will fly through. Despite my negative feelings, I am super excited this is finally happening for us. We were told before that there are no concerns for our children’s welfare, so we were unlikely to ever be allocated a social worker as we were not priority. I reckon this woman is going off on maternity leave or has handed in her notice or something, so she needs short pieces of work that are really a matter of ticking boxes.


I sometimes like to think my blog can help other families or individuals in similar situations to us, but I suspect in this case we are the last lesbian couple in Country B to need to undergo this process, due to the law change. Still, I guess if any of you get knocked up at home with donor sperm, or you marry a new partner who wants to adopt your children, the following weeks may be of help to you. Anyone who has undergone this process, we welcome info.

The manager today said we will be going through observations as a family. Uh, okay. Observe us, people, because WE ARE AWESOME.


14 st 7. Three pounds down this week

November 11, 2012

I’ve now lost 39 pounds and over 16% of my body weight. This is a familiar number to me, this 39 pounds lost. When we get into the forties, we are in an emerging and new territory. I don’t particularly feel like I have lost weight or look like it (meaning recent weeks since I got started again), but five pounds isn’t that much when you have a lot to lose. I think I’m at about the halfway point….but only if I decide to be that thin again.

However, my head is different. I’ve never been a headache person, but have had whomping headaches from pregnancy till now. The last year I’ve probably had a headache every single day, sometimes bad enough to make me vomit. I’ve also been very low energy and enthusiasm.

TMD has started doing awesome cooking in the evenings, leaving me with filling and delicious vegan foods for the following day. Largely curries that are so good they make my saliva glands happy. This means a large part of cooking is cut out of my days, which dramatically changes the way I eat. There are lots of beans and pulses in the foods, and I have completely cut out bullshit foods. The only snacks I have had are seeds, fruit, or cereal.

And I feel GREAT. This is my fourth or fifth day in a row with NO trace of a headache. This beggars belief. I also have been staying up later, rising earlier, and having enough energy to make it through most days without wanting to collapse into a heap sometime soon are lunch.

So all of that is fantastic. And I am definitely in the weight loss mindset I was in last TMD when I lost loads of weight, which is even better.

I’ve also started reading the food and mood handbook. Interesting stuff, but possibly not for you if you don’t like science type stuff. I have been eating good mood food, courtesy of TMD, and I have to say I hope she keeps cooking, because things are so much better on many fronts.

14 st 11, would Mickey approve? Also, I need deadlines in all areas of life. No exaggeration

October 28, 2012


This is me, about six years ago on our very belated honeymoon in Disney World. It marks the second time in my life I wore a bikini. The first was when I was about ten. It was a tight hot pink and orange number, and I was on a boat with my family and our friends. I felt uncomfortable and like the thing was going to fall off the whole time. As a teen, I looked back at that picture and remembered viscerally how uncomfortable I felt. I don’t know whether I thought I looked good, or too chunky.

When I look at the above picture, taken on a waterproof crappy camera, I feel a lot. Freedom, sunshine, laughing, bliss. I also think I looked awesome. This trip to Disney happened to mark the end of my eighteen month journey at Weight Watchers. I’d lost fifty four pounds and felt terrific. I bought two different bikinis and felt so confident and happy. We have lots of pictures of us on waterslides and in wave pools and my face just glows in them all.

It is not a coincidence that the trip landed at a time when I had just hit my goal weight (11 st 10). No, I knew the trip was going to happen and I used it as a deadline.

A couple of days ago, my mom brought up the possibility of us all going to Disney next September, which happens to be seven years exactly after the above picture was taken. (How do such large chunks of time pass by?) So once again, I have a trip to Mickey’s Florida home as a deadline, though I am realistic. Last time I lost weight slowly, steadily, and very consistently. I may not have lost every week, but I never gave myself a week off. Never.

A small part of me hates myself for saying I will lose weight by Disney, when I never lost it for having a new baby. A bigger part shrugs, accepting, and says what is done is done and cannot be undone. No point in beating myself up, not when weight loss will require much courage and self love. Hard work.

Last time TMD did all our meals at home, and she often packed me healthy lunches as well. I was working so was not around food all the time. My job also required me to spend a good portion of my day walking through inner city __________, which involved dodging the crowds, speed walking, and a few particularly funky hills. This time I do all the food. I hate cooking, and often feel panic. What will I eat? When will I eat? This is why I reach for convenience foods, because they are so much easier when you are tired and cannot cook.

But it would be nice to have a new swimsuit. Red, I think. It would be nice to have more energy and less aches so I could keep up with the kids as they run around Disney in that hot, hot sun.

This last week I got some very scary news from back home. The sort of news that makes me wonder about trying, again, to figure out how we could possibly navigate the rough waters of immigration and relocation. When I got off the phone, I started eating and did not stop. I could not stop, even when I ended up unpleasantly ass sick as a result. Nothing stopped the eating until the casual mention of Disney, so I latch onto that. Seven or eight months to focus myself on something positive, while quiet worries and the realisation of time passing by try so hard to drag me under.

I have no printer, but really want to find a way to print out the original picture from this post. A few copies. So I can keep looking at it, knowing that no matter how hard it is, I KNOW I can lose this weight because I did it before. The circumstances have changed, but at the core I hope my inner strength and self belief is still there waiting for me and the possibility of a new swimsuit.

12 st 9 AND how to terrify a tot

October 21, 2012

I don’t know how I managed to lose weight this week. I gorged myself, and largely in response to this IVF stuff. Due to an injury on Monday, I also tried to move as little as possible. So we had McDonald’s, chips, pizza, chocolate, crisps, etc. I think I’ll try harder this week.

I don’t have much more to say. I mean, I could fill a novel with how I can eat to punish myself, but really, the cinema is more uppermost in my mind. We took the kids to their first movie this morning – Brave. I had been thinking for awhile that it might be fun to see a film, and discovered kid special prices on weekend mornings. I knew Brave was Disney/Pixar so assumed it would be okay. It was only are booking that I read all these reviews saying not to bring kids under seven.

Well, yeah. That shit was REAL. Intense, scary, totally jacked up but also quite charming. Snort made it about halfway through, to the point where the mum is changed into a bear and all the noisy men are chasing her through the castle. Tears were running down his face, and he and TMD left the movie.

About ten minutes later I texted her to say the movie was funny again, but he refused to reenter. Good. Because the next thing you know, bears are fighting and people are getting shot and giant rocks are crushing bears.

Coconut was chill. Princess Merida crashed through the floor into a deserted creepy castle with a killer bear. Her response? ‘That lady needs a ladder.’

Princess Merida is sobbing because her beloved mother almost just killed her, and is in fact going to be transformed into a bear forever, and her dad might have to kill her? ‘That poor, poor lady. She is so sad and crying because her mum is a bear. She just wants her mum and dad to be happy again like a family.’

I’m there cringing and worried about inflicting psychological danger, and her only complaint is that the movie is too loud. She likes it and wants to see it again.

Snort, on the other hand – ‘That movie scared me. I not see that movie again. Come to the cinema and see red car movie!’ Yes, so. We will keep ours eyes out for cut price Cars, but at the very least I may do a more careful selection of film title next time. Brave was good, but I didn’t realise the name may have been an indication of the way a viewer would need to be in order to survive the darker elements.

It was fun, though. But that being said, I was sat by the kid who didn’t care about her popcorn and stayed the whole movie through. TMD, however, has a headache and didn’t get much popcorn. BOOyah.