I am all of the above.

I haven’t always been this way. In fact, I used to be pretty bloody good at switching off. Properly switching off I mean; shutting the laptop and turning down the volume on my phone. Pre-motherhood I thought a busy day was a 10 hour shift reporting on breaking news stories, with a rushed tea and only seven hours sleep rather than eight. Back in those days, I could quite easily walk through the door at the end of a long day and not think twice about soaking in a bath or watching a film.

Partly, I think the rise of social media is to blame. But I also think my own busy life doesn’t help. I spend so much of my time multi-tasking, communicating and juggling different roles, that when I actually get to sit down and stop…. I can’t.

I read this post by Alison at Not Another Mummy Blog the other day and found myself nodding my head in agreement. Alison admitted she’s not very good at “switching off” and often finds herself turning to blogging or tweeting etc when she should be lazing in the bath or watching telly.

Like Alison, I find it hard to stop. There’s always one more thing to do, one more piece of work to finish, one more chore to complete. When I eventually do sit down, I’m so out of practice at relaxing that I tend to sit there a big ball of twitchy nervousness. In an attempt to still my mind I do the worst thing possible – check my phone. And then my brain’s full of the chatter of Twitter or Facebook… and I’m even more wired than when I first sat down!

I was telling all this to a good friend of mine recently. And because she is such a good friend, a couple of weeks later she sent a book to me in the post. It came (unannounced) with a note, telling me to read it and make sure I started to be a bit kinder to myself. “Even if you let yourself have just one lie-in, then my work is done”, wrote my friend. (I have bloody brilliant friends.)

And I have been reading it. And I have been taking note. How To Be Idle is not for the faint-hearted. It encourages pulling sick days and ignoring deadlines. It’s probably not a book the boss would want you to start following to the letter. But it also makes a very good point: we are so busy these days, caught up in chasing material items and doing what we think we should be doing, that we don’t spend enough time thinking.

I can’t remember the last time I just sat down and mindlessly did a bit of knitting for a while. Or watched a film without feeling the need to check my emails at the same time. Or went for a walk (without my phone and the urge to capture it on Instagram) with absolutely no purpose.

Excuse me while I go all deep on you – but these things are all important for the soul. Taking time out, whether it’s lying in bed and looking at the ceiling, baking a cake just because you fancy it, pottering in the garden or meandering through a park for a little stroll, are all valid activities. I feel ten times better when I do something indulgent and lazy. I work ten times better afterwards, I am more focused, productive and organised.

So I’m making a pledge to myself to be more idle. Even if it’s just one evening in the week where I turn off my computer and fire down the phone. Rather than doing something I feel I ought to be doing, I’m going to do something I want to be doing.

Care to join me?

The post The art of doing nothing appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

As a weekend of mundane chores and To Do lists opened up before me like a yawning chasm of drudgery, I sighed over the days when weekends were different.

It’s over three years ago now – more like four really – when weekends meant late nights on dancefloors, drinks in the pub, shopping trips and lazy afternoons at the cinema. In the absence of swimming lessons or trips to the tip, Sundays were spent sleeping in until midday, followed by an impromptu pub lunch and an evening in front of a DVD.

These days, weekends are punctuated with a morning in a cold swimming pool, a flurry of housework and piles of dirty laundry.

The thing is, I actually rather like weekends full of the mundane minutae of domestic life. Being a busy family, we’re often rushing around the country to see friends or relatives. If we’re not off visiting someone, I’m likely to be at a work event or meeting a deadline. Call me old, but Monday sometimes sees me a broken woman, yearning for a couple of days at home with nothing much to do.

A morning pottering around the garden with my toddler, faffing around with bits of blossom and rogue dandelions was actually just what I needed yesterday. Boring it may be, but it was also calm and strangely satisfying. (My 21 year old self is mortified at that last sentence).

You know what I don’t miss about those former weekends? Feeling regularly hungover – and that dawning realisation on a Monday morning that I spent more than I had.

Although Mother Guilt often makes an appearance in my life these days, Weekend Guilt has long gone. And I don’t miss it one little bit.

If the mundane means a weekend spent with two people I love very much, then bring it on.

What’s your ideal weekend? Do you look forward to ones where there are no plans at all?

The post When the mundane is full of win appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

It was a rare couple of hours of solitude in an otherwise hectic schedule. As I sat under a pile of foils, hoping my hair wouldn’t turn green, I ignored the lump of mother guilt sitting in the pit of my stomach, choosing instead to concentrate on my showbiz current affairs magazine.

On being ushered to the basin for my rinse, I brushed away thoughts of not spending enough time that day with my toddler, turning my attention to the twinkly lights set deep in the ceiling.

And as the raw guilt and feelings of stress started to recede I was left with a huge question staring me blankly in the face.

With the deft massaging fingers of my hair guru doing their work on my scalp, the question started flashing before my eyes, in bright neon. I couldn’t believe that in the space of all my (nearly 29) years, I had never stopped to consider this burning issue before now: when having your hair washed at the hairdressers, should you sit with your eyes open or closed?

Clearly my immediate response to this question was to snap my eyelids open, meeting my lovely hairdresser eyeball to eyeball. Awkward.

So I clamped them shut again and feigned relaxation as I debated the issue in my head. That was fine until the water stopped and everything went quiet.

Assuming the hairdresser was busying herself preparing solution to be massaged into my follicles, and not wanting to look like I’d fallen asleep, I hesitantly opened one eye.

It was then I found my tormenter standing over me, leaning in to rearrange my towel. This time I was winking at her. Without question. Again, awkward.

Nonchalantly opening my eyes into a half open, half closed state seemed the best option. Until I realised that looked like I’d broken wind.

If only I could remember the unwritten rules of the hairdresser. It’s been far too long since I actually sat in a salon and was pampered. I don’t recall it being this stressful before.

So what’s the deal? Eyes open or closed?

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As I’m caught up with mum duties, work duties, house duties and all the other duties that rule my life, I momentarily forget about that special moment that will soon be mine.

But then I remember, hugging the anticipation of it close, a gleeful smile spreading slowly across my face.

Thursday arrives and I’m on my knees. Exhaustion has grabbed me by the insides and I plaster a smile upon my face as I watch my newly toddling child making full use of the novelty of her legs, causing havoc at our afternoon music class.

I thrust supper at my family and put my daughter to bed, before hauling myself to the computer to meet various pending deadlines.

Fingers sore from tapping the keyboard, bladder bursting from the huge quantities of tea and water I’ve consumed to keep me going, I look at the clock and sigh.

The memory of those cherished golden seconds comes back to me. Not long now.

And here I am. Just a few hours away from those delicious seconds.

The moment my lips wrap around that cold glass of wine on a Friday night. Bliss.

The post The golden second appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

When you have a baby you don’t get much time to “chill”.

Gone are the days of lie-ins and lounging. Welcome to early morning wake-up calls and Sundays at swimming.

With that in mind, I have struggled to find an appropriate picture for this week’s Gallery theme, Chilled Out.

We went on holiday recently, so I thought about posting a photo of me lying by the pool in my bikini. But I wouldn’t want to put you through that.

So, then I considered putting up a picture of Frog at her favourite time of the day, naked time before her bath. But I doubt she’d thank me for that in her teenage years, so those pictures of her baring her bum to the world will stay firmly put (to be used as bribery and threats at a later date).

Then I realised Frog’s idea of “chilling” is pretty different to mine. She’s happiest when she’s playing with a tambourine, shaking it along to a nursery rhyme or the sound of her own babbling voice, wowing an imaginary audience. Poor girl, takes after me like that…

Tambourine *girl*

But that’s not my entry either.

Because then I found this picture, by my amazingly talented friend Caroline Gue. It shows Frog when she’s at her most chilled. Sucking her thumb. And for me, this is perfection. Because when Frog’s chilled out, so am I.

The post The big chill appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

I fully intended to write this review last night. But after listening to the Massage for your Mind MP3, I promptly fell asleep in a blissed-out state, dribbling on the sofa.

So, it’s fair to say it works. 

Like many new mums, I live in a constant state of sleep deprivation but am often too tired to properly sleep at night. I lie in bed, imagining I can hear the baby crying and trying to work out how long until she wakes up. I’ve got at least 3 hours, now I’ve got 2 hours, now she’ll be up any minute, better stay awake…I can almost guarantee that on the nights Frog does sleep all the way through, I will need a wee every hour, or the (self proclaimed) Northern Love Machine will have a particularly bad bout of snoring.

I am a woman on the edge.

So when I was given the opportunity to review the Massage for Your Mind MP3 from the Holistic Heartbeat Store (available to buy at £8.99) I thought I would give it a go. I have nothing to lose, right?

The MP3 is billed as a self-help hypnosis download to “help improve mental calmness, physical relaxation, confidence, competence, and better quality sleep”. Now, I’m no Paul McKenna, but I have tried a touch of Yoga in my time and dabbled with the odd relaxation CD and, in my limited experience, this one knocks spots off the others.

The audio begins with a hypnotic loop track which is non-intrusive and very relaxing. It complements the soft tones of Peggy Melmouth, the woman behind Massage for Your Mind, who takes us through a whole self-hypnosis session in just 20 minutes.

At this point, things get a little hazy. I have listened to the MP3 three times and still could not tell you exactly what was on it. But I think that is kind of the point. You are not meant to focus too much on what is being said, but are encouraged to let the sounds and voice wash over you. The audio is cleverly layered in parts, adding to the overall effect. The result? A floaty feeling, like the one you get just before you fall asleep. I feel as if I have just walked out of a head to toe pamper session at a posh spa (fat chance) or been fanned and fed grapes by an army of minions. This must be how Cheryl Cole feels every night. No wonder she looks so bloody good.

So, in short, I would recommend Massage for Your Mind to anyone like me – that is, those who are sleep deprived and need a pamper session but can’t afford a Spa Day. Now all I need is someone to do the night feeds and stop my man snoring.

Peggy Melmouth kindly donated the Massage for Your Mind MP3 for this review.

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