A hurried dab of make-up (and dodging my daughter’s helpful fingers) later and I was dressed, making breakfast and slurping a cup of tea. And then I was out of the door, on my way to appear on BBC Radio 4′s Woman’s Hour, as you do.

My main concern about the whole thing was finding the unfamiliar BBC studios, 40 odd minutes from where we now live.

With my nose practically touching the car windscreen and my sat-nav turned up full blast, I focused on not getting lost. Not getting lost is a big priority when you’re the kind of person who gets lost regularly, even just going to the local shop. 

Amazingly, I made it to the studios without one wrong turn, but then realised I was embarrassingly early. Attempting to style it out, I moseyed on into the reception where I confidently told the lady I was booked for a slot that morning.

It was only when I looked above her head that I realised she was the receptionist for a chiropractic clinic in the same building. So much for cool. Sitting down, I then noticed my shirt had come unbuttoned to reveal my bright pink bra. Nice.

I sat around for a good half an hour, reading magazines and drinking tea (blissful – I highly recommend getting booked for Woman’s Hour even if it’s just for the excuse to sit down for 30 minutes). Once I was shown into the studio, I was left alone for another 15 minutes.

I was linking up live via ISDN (spot the radio geek) to London, so once the engineer had shown me through to the padded room studio I just sat and twiddled my thumbs for a bit, listening to the soothing tones of Radio 4. I imagined my boisterous diva throwing a tantrum at home, while my frazzled husband wished for the beginning of the school term so he could go back to work. I smiled.

And then I was on. It was all very quick. And fun – very fun. Despite being on the radio every day up until recently, I haven’t lost my enthusiasm for the medium. Plus, it’s Woman’s Hour, you know?

I think it went OK. I had enough texts and tweets afterwards to tell me I managed to speak English and put my words in the right order anyway. Plus (as one of my friends pointed out) I got a mention in for wine pre-11am, which surely wins me some kudos?

Anyway, if you’d like a listen then it’s on iPlayer – 13th August with the wonderful Jenni Murray. I was talking about camping, alongside Pheobe Smith editor of Wanderlust travel magazine and author of Extreme Sleeps: Adventures of a Wild Camper).

We discussed the merits of wild vs mild camping. I was in the wild camping camp, obviously. JOKES. Of course I wasn’t. Pillows and a toilet block all the way for me, thank you very much.

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In no particular order, they are:

This is my new Ella bag by Mia Tui. You wouldn’t know to look at it, but it’s actually a baby change bag. It has compartments for nappies, side pockets for baby wipes, an attachment to clip your keys to, pouches for bottles and a smaller handbag that slots inside, if you want to have a seperate bag for your own wallet and cards.

Even though my toddler’s no longer in nappies, I love it. I can cram all my stuff into it (filofax, wallet, keys, make-up, spare toddler pants, spare toddler leggings, baby wipes, emergency packet of raisins etc etc) without losing anything in a mysterious Bermuda Triangle handbag effect. It saves me time scrabbling around for lots bits of paper or pens and it looks pretty too.

Like loads of mums I know, I’m often ill. Not properly vomity sick, just a bit under the weather. Working the strange – and often long – hours that I do, and being around a toddler who spends half her day at nursery, means I’m prone to any cold going. I got sent these goodies recently by LanesHealth and just one whiff of any of them makes you feel instantly that little bit better.

This little collection of loveliness was an impulse buy when I was in Boots shopping for a friend’s present recently. I rarely spend money on frivolous purchases like these for myself, so it was nice to see they had a 3-for-2 deal.

Washing my hair with it makes me feel vaguely human after a couple of days when I’ve been too busy to shower (gross, I know) and almost makes up for the fact I don’t have perfectly shiny, clean, fresh locks every single day. It’s the little things, right?

Because sometimes, the only thing that helps is a double chocolate digestive. Fact.

I get up at 4am for my radio work. We do a show until 10am. This means I often don’t get to eat any breakfast until 6 hours after I wake up so, understandably, I’m a tad peckish. Granola is a great way to release that energy slowly and stop me reaching for one too many of the above biscuits later in the day. It’s also pretty tasty.

Lizi’s Granola is a new range I’ve only recently discovered. It’s very delicious, healthy and is the only stuff that comes close to the homemade granola my mum makes when we visit my parents in Devon.

This is the balance bike Frog has been borrowing from her little friend next door this week. It’s an absolutely brilliant concept, in that you don’t need pedals or stabilisers. The idea is for kids to get used to balancing themselves and scooting along, making the transition from toddler balance bike to normal big bike with pedals that little bit easier. Apparently you’re less likely to need stabilisers if you’ve used a balance bike.

It’s helped me out loads this week, as my nearly-three year old has enjoyed scuttling up and down the garden happily, leaving me free to crack on with the mountain of chores I need to do in any given half hour (hang the washing out, put tea on, answer an email, mop the floor, hoover broken biscuit, swill down wee from the patio etc etc). She loves it so much we’re considering getting her one of her own for her third birthday.

These are the things that have been helping make my life a bit easier this week. What are yours?

***

Disclaimer: I was sent the granola, cold products and Mia Tui bag to review on this blog. All opinions and words remain my own.

The post Products to help a busy working mum appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

Me, operating at full superwoman capacity. Kind of.

I was in a car crash on Tuesday. Not a serious one; I haven’t broken anything and there’s barely any damage to my car, but it was enough to leave me shaken and sore.

As I waited patiently for a safe crossing on a busy roundabout I was hit from behind by a driver who failed to brake in time. He was apologetic and visibly shaken. I was in a daze. After we exchanged details, attempting to dodge the mounting traffic, I started to feel sick. I gulped back the tears threatening to fall and got back in my car, driving the 10 minutes back to work on autopilot. It wasn’t until I fell through the door of the office that I realised how much I was shaking.

At the time, my shoulders, neck and back ached, but that got worse throughout the day. My main concern 30 minutes after the crash was getting to nursery to collect my two year old on time. I wanted to jump back in my car and finish the journey I’d started, regardless of any potential damage to my vehicle or body.

I was superwoman, I didn’t get hurt. I didn’t have time to be in shock. I had to get on with my day.

I’m very thankful to my lovely neighbour for stepping in at that point and offering to do the pick-up, so I didn’t have to race down the motorway and get there in time. I’m also grateful to my husband for coming home from work at a decent hour on Tuesday, so I could go to the doctor and be scolded for doing too much, before finding out I have high blood pressure and whiplash.

Although the accident wasn’t my fault, it’s left me panicky. I have to cover 80 miles a day in my car, so anxiety around driving isn’t helpful. But I’m now more aware than ever of how easy it is for accidents to happen. The fact I lost a member of my family in a car crash just before Christmas is, once again, fresh in my mind.

With the shock and the aches has come a kind of acceptance that I have to stop. Although I’ve still been getting up at 4am to do the radio show I currently work on, I haven’t tried to cram too much into the rest of my day. All toddler afternoon activities have been cancelled in favour of snuggles in front of a film or with books. The strong painkillers me a bit fuzzy and whoozy anyway, so it seems to take ten minutes to do a two minute job.

The last two evenings have seen me in bed by 6pm, as my husband takes over bedtime duties. I’ve had to swallow the Mother Guilt and remind myself that if I keep going at 100 miles an hour when I’m not feeling my best, I’ll hit a wall.

It’s hard.

There’s always so much to do, you see. There are always people who want to call meetings or have conversations about work projects over the phone, or who expect emails to be answered within 30 minutes – even if they know I’m recovering from an accident. You get the, “Oh poor you, I’m glad you’re OK” conversation, immediately followed by the, “Now, if you could just do this for me” line. It’s taken a car crash and a couple of days feeling very out of kilter for me to realise just how many people make (often unrealistic) demands on my time.

I love my work, but not at the expense of my health. I love my child, but I can only be the best mum I can be – marathon crafting sessions and toddler activity classes and playdates will have to wait this week.

It’s time to accept that even superwoman has off days. Even superwoman would struggle to work 80 hours, spend afternoons doing mum stuff and keep a clean house, if she’d been in a car accident.

And anyway, I’m not superwoman. No one is.

Superwoman doesn’t exist.

So, for now, I’m going to embrace my non-superwoman status and attempt to ignore the guilt. Everything will just have to wait.

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If you like Pinterest, you’ll love Shopcade. Basically, it’s a place to browse for brilliant new brands, products and deals, while earning points which lead to rewards. You have followers – just like on Pinterest – and the more you use the site the more points you pick up. You can buy stuff directly through Shopcade and earn cash back while you shop, as well as just browsing and looking at pretty things.

Since stumbling across Shopcade I’ve been lucky enough to become an ambassador for them. This means I get to use it lots with the excuse that my window shopping is for “important research”.

While conducting said research I’ve come across quite a few products which I think could help me manage my early starts. Ever since becoming a mum, I’ve sported huge bags under my eyes and the tired look isn’t one that becomes me. Add work to mum duties and I’m often a bit of a bedraggled mess by lunchtime. I think these Shopcade deals could help in my quest for a spot of quick indulgence in my battle of the under-eye bags…

I also really like the look of this Clinique Chubby Stick in Mega Melon – my lips are constantly chapped and sore, so this may help:

And I reckon showering with this Chocomania Shower Cream from The Bodyshop would be quite nice way to wake up in the morning:

What are your cheats for dealing with the effects of early mornings?

***

Disclosure: I received compensation for this post, as such I’m marking it as an advertorial. All views remain my own, as ever. 

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The last couple of weeks has seen me struggle through each day with an exhausting cough, racking my body with each bellowing bark. I’ve struggled to sleep, speak and breathe. It’s not been ideal – especially as one stream of income relies on my speech. It’s hard doing radio when you have a cough threatening to erupt all over the microphone every two minutes.

But it was my oldest friend’s birthday this weekend. I wanted to be at her party in Bristol more than anything. I’d been looking forward to a night of irresponsible behaviour, having too much to drink, dancing and catching up with friends I haven’t seen for years. On Friday night I was starting to feel better. I put my cough to one side and half made up my mind to be at the party the following night – no matter how I felt.

And then I woke up on Saturday morning and knew I couldn’t go.

The cough was still there. I was tired from a 60+ hour week of work and our renewed term-time activities of swimming, Monkey Music, etc etc. I looked at my busy two year old and knew that if I pushed my body to the limit that night, I would pay for it every day for the following week.

So I cancelled.

I was in a mood all yesterday afternoon and evening. Suddenly, I was 14 again, worrying about missing the party and all the fun stuff. I watched The X Factor in my slippers and felt about 60 years old. I slouched on the sofa, feeling thoroughly miserable, ill and unsociable. My husband remarked more than once that I was “too bloody mardy” and needed to “pull myself together”.

But this morning, as my toddler padded into our bedroom and clambered into bed with us, I knew I’d made the right choice.

I woke up in my own bed, without feeling dead. I didn’t want to put a pillow over my head as I mourned a lack of sleep and too much wine. I felt – cough aside – human.

So rather than continue the “mardiness”, I ended up in the park by 9am, pushing Elton John on the swings. I did a bit of housework (desperately unusual for me) and actually met a work deadline more than 48 hours in advance. We went blackberry picking and I baked a crumble.

Sometimes it pays to be dull.

Remind me of this next weekend.

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“Live in the here and now. You never know what’s around the corner. Life’s too short,” she said.

She’s right, you know.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the daily grind. The daily struggle and juggle. Daily worries, long-term planning, anxious what ifs.

But these aren’t the things I’ll take with me when I’m gone.

THIS is the memory I’ll take with me. My daughter sitting on her dad’s knee, waving at passers by as she rides the train on a family day trip.

Seeing the gold medal won in the running race by my hypermobile daughter and knowing she’s finally holding her own when it comes to walking, romping across the finish line in the Toddler Olympics at her childminder’s:

Sitting in the sunshine on a Friday afternoon in our local pub, enjoying a cold G&T as my two year old sips juice and waves to canal boats passing by.

There’s been too much sadness recently. Stories of people I know going through all sorts of difficult and painful experiences. It shouldn’t take hearing of these to make me wake up and realise I need to stop fretting.

My mum’s right. Life’s too short.

***

It would seem it’s not just my mum who’s wise.

I recently read two posts which really resonated with me, so I’d like to link to them here. This one by Ben at Goodbye, Pert Breasts and this one by Jane at Northern Mum had me nodding along in agreement. My mum would absolutely agree.

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It starts with a whisper at around midday. I can hear it humming softly from the fridge in all its cold, fresh, delicious glory.

The call gets steadily louder as the afternoon wears on. With each tantrum from my beautiful, highly-strung 20 month old daughter, the wine positively sings from the bottle stacked lovingly in its cosy white home in the corner of the kitchen.

As the last weekday 3.45am alarm call slowly ebbs its way from my memory, the wine mocks me, calling with promises of relaxation and smiles. As the 500th email from the past three days is meticulously answered and filed away, as the final toy is tidied away among friends, as my daughter is tucked into bed, my mouth positively salivates at that first delightful sip of cold Sauvignon Blanc.

I think I have a problem. I forgot to buy any this week.

Damn.

Friday night friend

***

Blogland has gone a bit crazy over the past couple of days, with nominations for The MAD Blog Awards now open and the first wave of blogs shortlisted for The Brilliance in Blogging Awards announced.

To my utter amazement, I’ve been shortlisted in the Lit category for The Bibs. You can vote for me here.

To nominate me for a MAD Blog Award just go to the website linked above and click on “nominate”.

My name is Molly. But in cyberworld, I am Mother’s Always Right. My URL is http://mothersalwaysright.wordpress.com.

Now I’m off in search of wine.

The post I think I have a problem appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

It goes something like this, “I just don’t know how you do it”. Or, “I couldn’t do it, I don’t know how you do”. Or, “You should really take care – I mean, I just don’t know how you manage it”.

In each situation, the person is talking about my work.

I say “work” rather than “job”, because I actually have several jobs. I juggle these around the regular duties of motherhood, just like hundreds of thousands of other women up and down the country.

The thing is, this juggling and racing around at a hundred miles an hour has become the norm for me now. I get up at 3.45am, drive 45 minutes to work, present a breakfast radio show, do post and pre-show prep, then drive 45 minutes to the childminder and collect my child. I spend the afternoon avoiding tantrums and attempting to make my motherhood tiara sparkle like a disco ball, before putting my daughter to bed and starting the next run of work.

The other work involves sitting at my computer and writing. It may be writing copy for clients, writing features for magazines or websites, writing blog posts or just writing a million and one response emails. Either way, writing is very much a part of what I do and how I put money in the bank.

This isn’t particularly exciting, but I want to keep a record of my life as it is right now, because I know it won’t be this way forever.

At some point I will either have another baby, burn out or win the lottery.

Or – and this is the thing that really keeps me going – the work will dry out. Because when you’re self-employed, there’s nothing like the fear of having no work to keep you battling on.

So, to those that ask me “How do you do it?” my response is this: I do it because I can, because I love what I do, because I have to, because I don’t know how long I’ll be doing it for and because I want to purchase my own home eventually.

But, above all else, I do it for this:

Frog, aka Miss Motivator

The post Being a working mum. Or, “Attempts at staying afloat”. appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

Photo Credit: "Facebook's Secret Message to Me", by Nate Bolt

My husband isn’t on Facebook. The (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine did have a page, but decided to close it down. “If I want to speak to someone, I’ll ring them,” he said. “I don’t even really know half the people on there anyway.”

He has a point.

Since I started the new job at the beginning of the month, I’ve spent more time on Facebook. I get into work at 5am and it’s one of the first sites I check. It says a lot about the age we live in, that often the “big” things people are talking about will be picked up by social networking sites before other forms of media.

But my new job also involves very early starts. 3.45am starts. The kind of starts which can induce grumpiness at the best of times, even if you love your job.

So, when I arrive at work and dutifully log into Facebook it may be unsurprising that I’m instantly repelled by many of the status updates I scroll down to read.

At 5am, when I have driven 45 minutes through rain to work (again, even if it’s to a job I love), wearing odd socks, looking like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards, I don’t want to hear about how perfect everyone else’s life is.

I don’t want to know how rich you are. Or how in love you are. Or how incredibly advanced and intelligent your children are. Or how many toys you buy them. Or how many holidays you’re going on. Or how thin and beautiful you are.

I just want you to shove off so I can carry on being normal in peace.

Because, I’m sorry, no one is perfect all of the time. I just don’t buy it.

Fair enough, you’ve had a pay rise. Shout about it. But don’t follow it up with an update about how your toddler has learned the dictionary backwards. And certainly don’t regale me with stories of your incredible breakfast-in-bed making husband on a Saturday morning. Who do you think you are? Gwyneth Paltrow?

I mean, really.

So, Facebook, I do not believe you. I think you are lying a little bit.

And if you’re going to lie, then I will too….

“Molly….is very excited after winning £10m on the lottery and seeing her formerly non-toddling toddler run a marathon this afternoon. Oh, and by the way, her husband has just had a £200k pay rise and is taking the family on a holiday to Barbados. So there.”

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No, I’m not pregnant.

But I will be experiencing excruciatingly early mornings very soon.

Because I’ve gone and got myself a new job. A new job that involves getting up at 4am. A new job that involves listening to lots of Take That. A new job that involves chatting. A new job that involves laughing – a lot. A new job that has “dream” written all over it (apart from the 4am alarm call, obviously).

I’m going to be the new co-presenter on the breakfast show on Heart, in Wiltshire. This means life is going to change dramatically in January. Both for me and the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine – as well as Frog.

My new job means Frog won’t see me in the mornings, apart from at weekends. Instead, she’ll be whisked off to a new childminder, conveniently situated on her dad’s way to work. But come lunchtime, she’ll get her mum back again. For the whole afternoon.

My new job also means there’ll be less juggling, although I’ll still have a couple of features to write every month, along with a bit of copywriting and social media work. But this is nothing compared to the ten balls I’ve had up in the air recently (oh stop with your rudeness!) – and none of the other work will be done while Frog is awake.

As for sleep – we’ll have to work something out. Sleep and I have a rather close relationship, so I’m not willing to turn my back on it just yet. I guess it’ll just mean earlier nights and less Twitter. Oh well.

Anyway, this is the bit where I ask for your advice again.

I want to hear from working mums (the “BOTTOM” types – Bugger Off To The Office Mums -  in the words of that wise Northern Mum). And shift mums (I couldn’t think of a witty acronym for this one – take it literally) who work early mornings and nights and everything in between.

I want to hear from dads who do the morning drill and take the children to school / nursery / childminder / grandparents / anywhere else children go when their parents go to work.

In short, I want to hear from anyone who has experience and advice to share about making working work. For your family and for yourself.

Now excuse me while I go and enjoy a glass of cold fizz and toast my new job. Did I tell you I have a new job?

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