According to Red Magazine: “Dr Osamu Kuwazuru and his team at Japan’s Fukui University think they have pinpointed the precise moment when the signs of ageing become rapidly more visible: 35.09.”
English Mamma’s age: 35.4
[heads off to weep into her pillow, quietly hoping that salty tears can keep the ageing process at bay...]
Today has been one of those days. You know, those days…
Little O was off preschool most of last week with an eye infection that also developed into an afternoon and evening fever each day until Thursday. He’s not been eating that well (a sure sign for him that something is wrong) and has been quite clingy. We’re not sure what it was – a reaction to the BCG test on Monday afternoon, a reaction to the eye infection, a general fever that goes around at preschool or pre-teething fever (no sign of anything coming through at the moment). But whatever it was, it cleared up on Friday and over the weekend – hooray!
Although today that turned around to bite me on the (increasingly sizeable) ar*e… As he only really spent one day last week at preschool, a full day back today exhausted him. By the time we were home at around 3.30pm, he was already rubbing his eyes. At 3.40pm, he decided he wanted to be picked up and carried into the kitchen, no… the bedroom, no, the kitchen again… no… just carried. From that point on, if I tried to put him down, he’d collapse in a little shrieking heap on the floor.
So, I carried him as much as my hip and pelvis would allow, but by 5.45pm, I was the one wanting to lie in a little heap on the floor. I’ve been managing to keep my SPD/foglossning at bay for the past few weeks by training once a week with my personal trainer and doing some light exercises in between our sessions. But the day before I’m due to train again, I can feel it creeping back up on me. And guess when I am next due to train? Yep, you guessed it: tomorrow.
By 5.50pm, I was
in tears calling Husband ringing Husband for a pep talk. His advice was that this is one of those times that I need to be selfish. As he pointed out, if I carry on carrying Little O around, very quickly I am not going to be able to pick him up at all.
Everything he says makes perfect sense, but the frustration and hurt on Little O’s face when I don’t pick him up is almost worse to bear than his 11kg weight…