Helen Redfern

NaNoWriMo

It is National Novel Writing Month so I'm busy writing. It does say in the instructions on the official website that you should start something completely new as you have to write with abandon. Apparently doing that with a novel you've already created would be too hard. But that is exactly what I need to do with my current book. Write with abandon. 

My book is one I've been thinking about for around two years or more. Verity Volerman is a sixteen year old girl. She's just finished her exams and is thinking of the long summer ahead before she starts college. Then her Mum and Dad tell her something about themselves which changes her summer and her life forever.

2253 words so far. 22095 overall.

Scale Watch: On not watching

For a little while now, I've had one of those feelings niggling away at me. Something was bothering me, although I wasn't sure what it was. What I did know, however, was that it wasn't a good feeling.

This morning I decided to get on the scales after about four weeks of not. The reason why I haven't bothered is because I haven't been tracking my points diligently. In my mind, if I haven't written it down, I've probably put weight on. I know, I know there is something skewed in that train of thought.

Each day I think I'll just do a few days of being reallygood, tracking and weighing everything I eat, then get on the scales and see what the damage is. Then I can input it into my online tracking tool and carry on.

I expected a gain, back into the next stone bracket. I was waiting for that number to appear. So when I got on, and it said I'd lost three pounds...

...well, I was ecstatic.

Especially as I'd eaten a large portion of Cadburys Dairy Milk last night.

And now, I'm walking around my shoulders feel lighter. I'd set out to achieve something and because I wasn't monitoring it, I felt like a failure. Does this mean I'm a control freak?

Now, if I lose eight pounds I'll be in the next stone bracket down. This should be achievable by Christmas. Incidently the chocolate above is 1kg bars. Or 2.2 pounds. I'd like to lose 4 bars before Christmas please.

Enid Blyton's Home

  

As a child Enid Blyton brought me so much joy. Even now, some years later, I read her books when I'm feeling a bit wrung out, a little fragile and need to escape from adult life and all its complications for a while.

Unbeknown to me at the time, I used to live in the same village as Enid when she lived at Old Thatch. Now I know, I know, how can I be such a big fan and not know that. She also lived down the road in Beaconsfield in a house called Green Hedges. This house is no longer there, but at the model village there is a replica. Typically with her typing away in the garden.

Scale watch: Keeping the Momentum

Now I've been counting the points in my food for, ooh, coming up to three months now. And I've had a bit of a stall. I've lost two stone and two (important) pounds so far, but the loss has slowed down dramatically. I've been a bit lenient with myself, then I had a birthday at the weekend, which naturally involved cake. Mind you I didn't gorge myself silly. In the past I may have gone a bit mad and then decided right that's it, no point dieting anymore, I can't maintain it. Then my food eating would dramatically and rapidly go out of control.

This time however, I've had my few days of fun and family, with pizza and sausages and wine, but I've now drawn a line under it. I'm not beating myself up, it's called life, I'm just quietly getting back on track. And I feel so much better already. My tummy is slightly flatter without the full bloated feeling and my trousers are looser.

I'm now in the zone to lose my next stone. Or twelve more packets of butter.

On the subject of walking...

...I love how my daughter walks from one solid item to another with her hands in the air. I'm often in the kitchen whilst she potters around the lounge with Iggle Piggle on in the background. Then, I hear her breathing, turn around, and in she trots. On two legs.

Looking very pleased with herself.

Keep On Walking

It's all too easy when the weather is wet and the day is dark and you have a grizzly teething baby, to think staying indoors is for the best. Yesterday when my lovely friend offered to take my son to school I took her up on the offer. Then, as it was still drizzling at home time, she also brought him home.

By about three in the afternoon my mood was starting to sink. Lower and lower. By the time my husband came home he described it as reminiscent of the dark days. And it was. But it was only for a few hours whereas in the dark days it was all the time.

This morning I was determined, whatever the weather, to go out and get some fresh air. To put my best foot forward and walk my son to school. So I did. So far, I'm still feeling fresh from the walk, the cold is still clinging to my skin. I feel positive, I've had an idea for a blog post (this one) and a few floaty ideas about some articles. I have a coffee on the go and my eggs have just poached. The baby needless to say is asleep.

So far so good.

Walking is magical.

Mothering Instinctively

On Saturday there was an article in The Telegraph about the concept of Parenting and how there is a multi million pound industry telling us exactly how to do it. That is, how to parent. This industry includes programmes, websites, books - there must be thousands of books, magazines, government advice, and, something I didn't know, you can get coached on how to be a good or better parent along with institutes, academies and classes.

When I had my son over six years ago, I read the books, I read the magazines and I read the websites. However well meaning they're all trying to be (and actually I liked the magazine articles on mums and how they coped with stuff, I found these more useful than the experts) there is no way you can follow all of the advice. They contradict each other, sometimes contradicting themselves and there is always something new coming along (like the current rage for baby led weaning).

So six years ago, I didn't know what I was doing. I bought various books (throwing one across the room if I remember rightly) but for me (and I must stress that, for me) I'm sure all of this information overload about how I should parent added to my feelings of failure. Now my post natal depression is something I've mentioned before. I'm not ashamed of it, but I know, looking back some three or four years later since I've recovered, I can see there were lots of contributing factors towards it. My birth experience, moving house, feeling isolated were all factors. But I also think another part was the amount of information out there. I was a woman of the new millenium. What did I do if I didn't know the answer? I googled it.

If you're feeling a little unsure, if you're a good few miles away from your nearest family, if you don't know many people in the local area and if you are so traumatised from the birth you can't think straight, then this information was going to be overload. My mum (a former midwife) often said my generation knew too much.

At the moment my daughter is teething. She is clingy, not going to sleep very well, and waking in the night. Before I would have scoured the internet looking for advice. I would have done the controlled crying, the reassuring, the pottering around so she can see me. Before I didn't know what to do for the best and in the end did it completely wrong (I can see this now). This time however, I'm doing what comes naturally.

I'm using my mothering instincts. They may be deeply buried inside me somewhere, but they are there.

And I'm going to trust them.

Scale watch: Two Stone Down

Finally, after two months and one week, I've lost the first two stone of my baby weight. On the one hand it feels great, but on the other I still have a way to go and still feel rather 'hefty' shall we say, (I want to say 'like a knacker' but I'll be polite to myself) so I'm impatient for more.

I'm at that point with people I see where one or two are thinking, hmm, something slightly different about Redders, but not quite sure what it is. One person has said I'm looking well, or nice or something like that and another said your trousers are very flattering, which I'm reading to mean you've lost weight and your trousers fit better making you look better (hey, might be a long shot but I've got to take what I can!)

Maybe in another stone's time the weight loss will register with people. Then I will get the questions, how did you do it? Did you starve yourself? Was it easy? The usual stuff. But that's fine because I may well be feeling rather smug by then and want to share my joy with the world. After all, in another stone's time, I'll be well over half way.

Baby feet

The bruises(!) on my daughter's face are proof that she, my teeny tiny baby, is growing up and rapidly moving on to the next stage. She started crawling at the beginning of August, then took her first steps at the end. Now she pulls herself up on the settee then just launches herself towards the next one. Sometimes she makes it, other times she falls on her bottom. Then, a few days ago, she did the same near the kitchen table. And fell into the leg. Thus the black eye. Such a shame.

At nine and a half months she is strong and beautiful, loves Iggle Piggle (she's laughing at him now) and adores her brother.

And, funnily enough, I adore her.

Creating Memories on Holy Island

It's easy to forget the summer holidays when you're back into a routine. Son has returned to school and there is now homework, ten spellings and longer books to be read. There is also dinner money to be paid, sandwiches to be made, football academy, beaver scouts and swimming lessons. For the past week I've had the startled look of rabbit in headlights as I've tried to juggle all of that with a baby daughter who just won't sit still.

It's been three weeks since we returned from beautiful Northumberland. My husband always laughs at me when I remark 'we're creating memories you know' when we are doing something particularly delightful with the children. But I do have some lovely ones. I think my favourite day was our trip to Holy Island. From the nerves I felt when we drove over the road that gets covered in the tide (we studied the tide times and it was well out at when we went over, but I still had visions of it rushing in) the castle, the views - wow the views -the priory and the chocolate brownies we ate at the Pilgrims Coffee House.

I think our favourite bit was when we travelled back to the mainland and parked up, eating our sandwiches while we waited for the tide to come in. And it wasn't just us. It seems its a bit of a spectator sport. There was even an ice cream van (and a crazy family with children swimming in the sea with the tide due in any minute. Seriously, do some people not read the signs? They are all over the place.)

So as I sit here with the remnants of this morning's packed lunch staring at me, coffee grounds over the surfaces and porridge encrusted pots waiting at the sink, I'm thinking of my son's excited squeals as the sea started to lap at his feet, as the tyre of the ice cream van started to be covered in water and as the ducks swam over the road.

See husband. We were creating memories.