One Month And Counting

At the start of this whole social experiment, I had a doctor's appointment over the phone in place of a check up for a child. After going over the reason for the call she asked what the child, (13 year old boy) was intending do with 'this time' and mused that future University admissions interviews might ask what this generation did with the 'opportunity' of time that has been gifted to them. In my fresh faced naiveté I thought what an excellent and insightful thought she had had and spoke earnestly with said teenage boy about the idea of him actually properly learning Russian, a skill he has dabbled with here and there and which would surely deeply impress any university admissions interviewer. We both agreed this was an excellent idea. Feeling slightly smug, I thought what a great opportunity for him and we skipped off in to the great blue future yonder.

FAST FORWARD IN TO SAID future. The most I could hope for now is that the teenage boy in question manages to spend more than 2 hours each day, out of his bed. That he manages to find any interest that interests him for any prolonged period of time that isn't on his phone or the PS4 and that he manages to achieve at least 25% of the work he has been set from school. There is bugger all chance of any language being learned, even the two he is being educationally guided on courtesy of his hard working school teachers. His gift of time has been unquestionably and unutterably squandered and there is no hope of a change in his behaviour (I honestly promise you I have tried), in fact I imagine it will only get worse.

To be honest, I'm not sure his enthusiasm was entirely there to begin with. I think he was probably humouring me so that I would leave his room quickly and not moan about the mess or ask him to do anything else like learn Mandarin in his spare time.  Although he has been happy enough to sit down with me most nights and do some quite dull puzzles my mother managed to dig out for us, so I suppose that's something. I wonder if managing a 1000 piece puzzle with your mother during the great lockdown of 2020 is something that would impress Universities? I shall keep my fingers crossed on that one.

I can't entirely blame him for his lacklustre approach to this gift of endless time. My enthusiasm seems to have waned quite a bit too in the last few days.  Knowing my propensity towards laziness and my general, 'Why do something today that can be put off until tomorrow' attitude, I took the first few weeks by the horns and set myself urgent tasks and jobs that I had to achieve in order to keep me focused and busy every day. (I wish one of those had been to steam clean the kitchen floor grout - I was saving it for a special occasion, as you do, and now school is back in session I doubt it will ever be achieved).  Then we had the lovely Easter Weekend. A glorious four days of sun, chocolate (not so much for me as the Easter Bunny seemingly forgot about me), fun outside and general nice times. I wrote to you and felt grateful for so many things. Now I'm here. My brain doesn't seem so focused on being grateful. It just feels a bit 'MEH' about most things. Although you know what it does care about? Food. Glorious food. All the live long day.

For three weeks I was 'good'. I listened to people say they were over eating and couldn't keep away from the fridge and thanked my lucky stars that I was still very much in control, running regularly and managing to stay busy enough that I even managed to lose a bit. Hooray! And then, I became exceedingly hungry.  And I lost my running leggings. (I don't know how but somehow asking Ted to sort the washing has resulted in me not being able to find them for a week....) I have only been on one run this week. A painfully slow 3k in unsuitable leg attire. I am still enjoying quite a few aspects of this new way of life, but equally, I desperately want to get out, see people, see the sea, do something, anything to give me a change of scene.  My emotional state seems to vary from hour to hour. Sometimes I think 'Oooh this is quite fun! I'm reading a book in the sun with a cup of tea. It's really not so bad, stop moaning and get a grip woman!' and then shortly afterwards I'm at 'THIS IS THE WORST THING IN THE WORLD AND IT WILL NEVER, EVER, EVER END'.

For me, it's very similar to the end of pregnancy. I have been overdue with all five. With all five, I have hoped for an early exit. I do not enjoy the end of pregnancy (or for that matter the start) it is long, heavy and usually hot. The 'end' for me is the last 6-8 weeks. By that time I am uncomfortably large, I have people asking me 'how much longer' and 'are you sure there's only one in there' all the time.  I am always super grateful that I am well, that the baby is well, that I was able to get pregnant in the first place and that I'm able to carry them without too much ado BUT, man, what I wouldn't have given for a weekend off. A whole 48 hours where I could take off the 'bump', where I could not have to get up 3 times in a night to wee, where i didn't dream of wearing adult nappies to stop the constant need for going to the sodding f'ing loo, where I didn't feel the pain of the weight on my back and I didn't breathe like an elephant on a jog every time I walked upstairs. I wanted to bend over and joyfully pick things up on the floor by bending forward and without making hideous noises and not dream about sitting or lying down all the live long day. I just wanted to take the bump off and hand it to someone for safe keeping until I had 'regrouped' enough to carry on carrying a baby to full term. I feel exactly the same now. 'Just' six weeks feels as endless as it does in late pregnancy and there comes a point where even with the weight of all the medical and scientific bods reassuring you that it must, you think that it will never, ever, ever end and you will just have to be pregnant forever.

I think 48 hours away from it all is all I need. I just need to hand 'it' over for a few days and go somewhere to laugh, drink and eat with my friends, go for long walks by the sea and come back, recharged and ready to go. I certainly need my willpower back. FYI My willpower has vanished entirely. (I think my willpower and my enthusiasm have buggered off for my weekend away and just couldn't face coming back because they were having too much fun). Up until this week I was managing to carry on with this silly 16:8 plan where you eat all your meals in an 8 hour window and then 'fast' for the other 16. It was relatively easy. Now, I am doing more and more days where I allow myself a day 'off' and use the 16 hours of the day that I am awake, to eat. It's not ideal.

But then I've always been amazed I have any willpower at all. People assume that those on the larger side of life have 'no willpower' - it's what the fat police say all the time - 'they have no self control'. But I can assure you that it is willpower alone that keeps me from living my dream life of just sitting on my arse, watching tv and eating all the live long day. The willpower it takes for me NOT to eat everything I want, every time I want it, is stupendous - it's only down to this miraculous power that I am not 35 stone and laying in my bed in need of carers to bathe me with a flannel, only to discover I've managed to lose a remote control in one of my many fat crevices and skin has grown over it (I read about that once and I was grossed out and equally fascinated and mildly in awe). You think I'm joking - SO NOT. I love food, I love eating, I love thinking about eating and all I want to do is eat. Now that I spend (what feels like) 24/7 in the kitchen making food for people, it is as if a dam has burst and my brain has thought - she's in the house all day every day, she must finally be living her dream life and be one of Britain's 40 Stone Shut Ins and we must make her eat, constantly in order to keep her dream alive! 

I jest. A bit. I'm not quite that bad. Luckily, I am still vain enough to not actually want to be airlifted out of my house by firemen when I need to go to a hospital appointment and so I will inevitably get a grip and put a lock on the fridge and the cupboards at some point in the very near future. I think it is just the unknown future, it unnerves me. I need a Due Date. I need to know that it will have to stop at least two weeks after the Due Date and that things can then go back to 'normal'. This never ending, not knowingness is not helping my usually happy state of mind. I'm not sure the start of the summer term of schooling is helping much either. I am dreading tomorrow. Although at least it does give me a modicum of certainty. I know for certain that it will be hard work, that there will be tears and tantrums and that it will be over by 4pm where I can have an early tea time Gin because there aren't any sodding after school clubs to get to.  And of course that no one will be learning Russian...   до скорого