What if…?

What if…?

When dreaming of what your children are going to be when they grow up do you ever find yourself wondering what if? What if I applied myself properly in university and ended up a visionary in my field? What if I didn’t listen to my mother and went to work in London at 21 rather than wait until 28? What if I decided to do what I want to do which could potentially crash and burn but will ultimately give me more time at home?

So many questions that fill your head during a clear 5 minutes. I think that all the guilt that you experience trying to split yourself into a million pieces to keep everyone happy often leads you do ponder the questions that have never given you a satisfactory answer in the past. I think one of my lessons from too many ‘what ifs’ is to let my children be who they want to be and do what they want to do (within reason – reality tv star or underground crime are not things I can get on board with). The one thing I will say to them is embrace love when you find it but do not let it dictate your dreams and ambitions. Too many boys and men have been the road block to ambition and I spent too many years in my twenties trying to convince the boyfriend of the moment with my dreams of running away and living the story book life. I think what causes you to think of these things in a melancholy haze is that you are no longer free to chase these dreams without consequences. There are people to think about, commitments to be honoured and whereas when we were younger we didn’t need a safety net now we need a safety net for the safety net.

In all honesty I no longer want to strive to be the business woman who has a closer relationship with the PC at work than her own family, I want to make jam and bunting, write beautiful stories and make bread and calorific cakes but in reality bills need to be paid and in order to live in both worlds time needs to be stretched. I’d love to take Evie away and see the world and explore new cultures and history but the constraints of work and life make this a segmented pipe dream. Time cannot be reversed but going forward my tales of chasing boys and making them the be-all to my romantic idealistic notion of growing up will serve to be reminders to Evie that there needs to be a balance in the world. Too much adulation and hanging on every word the pretty boy says is less time researching ways to make a difference in the world. Unless of course the pretty boy is the one to make history with and a whole new set of what ifs are created.



I’m two weeks into a new age and I have decided that I can no longer resemble the Pilsbury Dough Boy’s mother. I’m sick of looking in the mirror and seeing a jellified version of myself, with mumsy hair and tired eyes and worse still the numbers on the scale must be programmed to not move – ever!! So this morning whilst in the gym having an hour to myself I decided to set myself a challenge #looklikebrook. I know I’m never going to resemble Victoria Beckham (no matter how hard I wish for it) with my giant boobs and hips so I had to pick a realistic model to base my ideal body shape on and who better than Miss Brook.

I wanted someone who inspires me and makes heads turn. I’ll be honest and say that this is a blatant vanity project so I’m going all out to drop 2 dress sizes get a figure like Kelly’s in 3 months. No slacking, no eating new Cadbury’s jelly candy bars in secret and convincing myself that because I skipped breakfast it’s ok and no half arsed exercises in the gym. Just because I turned up doesn’t mean that I get extra brownie points, I don’t even try hard. And my reward if I pull this off…a photo shoot to show myself in 10 years that I looked half decent in my thirties because I spent too long in my twenties looking dodgy!!

Plus ever pound I lose I will put £5 in the pot and use it to showcase the new look – everyone needs an incentive to lose the weight and putting it in black and white will make me stick to it. I will set up a page for the challenge and write a dairy charting my progress and if I feel brave enough put the before, during and after shots up.

So in a nutshell – 3 months, 22lb, 2 dress sizes, #looklikebrook

Any hints, tips, suggestions will be greatly received…

31 going on 13

Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me…this week was my birthday (if you didn’t guess) and I am slowly being dragged into my thirties (31 to be exact). This year followed a similar sober theme to my 30th; there were no planned celebrations, no wild night out on the town, not a drop of alcohol in sight actually…so I had to have something that allowed me to retain an element of fun now I am responsible for another human being. So I asked for roller skates!! Not just any roller skates but proper roller disco skates in red with red/yellow/orange stripes so I could be a yummy mummy with the breeze in my hair taking the baby for a spin in the buggy.

I had been quite specific in what I wanted, I even sent him the link to the exact skates and all he had to do was click buy now. I even sent him a link to the backup pair that I wanted. I had also requested some little bits to make up my birthday box so he didn’t have to go down the route of surprises (more often than not they don’t work and they end in tears – his not mine). Now ladies, I’m sure we can all agree that unless we actually buy our own gifts with his money we are leaving ourselves open to disappointment.

Tuesday morning, en route to the shower I spied my gifts – two of them. One looked like it could be my skates the other looked too big to be the book that I wanted, too light to be my pestle and mortar, this was a surprise gift off the baby. Racking my brains all day in work I couldn’t figure out what on earth he could have bought me.

After work I sat down to open my presents with Evie and he looked nervously on. I opened the big box first and to my delight it was my skates. Eger to see my red beauties I opened the box and quizzically looked at the white and pink ones staring back at me. How do you ask someone how they completely ignored your request without looking ungrateful? I bravely told myself I could rock Barbie skates, I’d just have to purchase new clothes to match the skates (and possibly dye my hair blonde to complete the look). Then it was time to open the other present. It was only then that it dawned on me that the lightness of the box could only mean one thing – he had bought me something to go with the skates. I had images of knee pads or elbow pads (in Barbie pink) but nothing could prepare me for the item that came out of the box…a matt baby pink helmet.

I don’t wear hats (apart from my trusty holiday hat) so I am baffled to understand why he thought I would wear something that makes me look like the rubber at the end of the pencil! He thought I would laugh and model it around the house. I couldn’t even crack a smile, let alone model it. Safety is paramount especially when drilling it into children but vanity always wins when there is the chance that you may be recognized.