Reflection, scones and fat fighting fails


Yesterday was really good for me you know, it made me feel all fuzzy in the emotion box. I did nothing out of the ordinary, it was what most people would call a relaxed easy day, but it lifted me more than I think I can explain without sounding all serendipity and off my head. I went to bed last night feeling reaaaaally fucking knackered and sore but also smiling and really grateful that I’d been able to join in with everything that was going on. I’m a simple creature really, I don’t need to be achieving great things to make me happy; don’t get me wrong, I like to be good at what I do, but I don’t aspire to have the “most” or be the “best” at anything; enough is plenty. Give me a comfy chair, good company, some laughter and side order of warm air and I’m sorted and yesterday ticked all those boxes – that one good day will keep me ticking over for ages.

I’ve already looked through yesterdays pictures loads today. That’s something I’ve become a lot better at since this all kicked off actually; taking pictures and videos and capturing the good bits forever (or until technology breaks at the very least) because you never know when you’ll need to be reminded that life’s alright really.  In the land of boundless energy  (before M.E.) I was always too busy thinking about the next thing that needed doing, or the thing after that, or work, or something else; I rarely took any pics unless the cat was licking his arse in a particularly funny or cute way and Facebook NEEDED to see it – but now my phone is full. Every night before I zonk out I flick through and enjoy finding the stuff I’d missed the first time round; how pissed off Eli looks, how obese the squirrel was, or how green everything looked. I delete the shit photo’s of my hair toes that I’ve taken by mistake and relive the good ones, laughing, smiling or shaking my head as I go – its a cracking way to end your day; like a form of mental filing really. For me though, it serves as a reminder of just how much I have to be grateful for; I know that sounds all mushy and for fucks sake I’ve only got M.E. not cancer but it’s something I’d carry on with even if I wasn’t ill. I’d slow the fuck down, I’d enjoy taking pics and I’d look through them every night before going to sleep because, feeling grateful for your lot shouldn’t be something you ONLY do when you’ve had a change in circumstance; I’ve learned that the hard way.

In other news Davie and Agnes have started to build a nest so I guess they’ve shagged and they’re planning on staying? Those wirey spikey bits beside them are the bird deterrents they’ve ripped from the upper roof – the irony that they’ve used them to create a fortress around their nest is is not lost on me. At least they’ve chosen the flat roof this year rather than our bedroom one – should mean that we don’t get hollered awake by chicks at stupid times of the day and night. IMG-20180505-WA0003.jpg

I’ve no other pics yet this morning and I’m pussy footing around it because yesterday’s blog was SO positive that I almost feel like I’ve lulled you into a false sense of security… but I reckon you’ll probably all know what today looks like for me so lets get it out the way now so that I can start writing about the good bits again. I’m shit. I’m really sore, energy levels are at the bottom of the barrel and I’m struggling. That, my friends is all I’m going to say on the matter because, well,  I’m bored of writing the same shit over and over again; you know it’s wank, I know it’s wank, lets all just agree it’s wank and have some cake.

Or scone’s. Which is what I had this morning as my treat because… IT’S WEIGH IN DAY!

It’s a bank holiday here so we’d arranged to meet my lovely lovely pal, her husband and their wee ones at that soft play I went to last Monday on my own.  No not the shit one, the nice one. The one with the coffee? The new one.. remember? With no ball pool? Oh for fucks sake.. THE ONE AT DOBBIES. We arrived slightly ahead of D and her crowd, in fact we were the first ones in so we grabbed a table, Christiaan got his and Eli’s shoes off and went off to go nuts with him in padded child jail and I went to get us some breakfast. I was torn mind. They do cooked breakfasts in there, and although the quality isn’t gourmet, it is a satisfying feed… but I wasn’t that hungry and there were scones. It was a tough choice, but in the end I went for a cherry scone, because, well who doesn’t love a scone? Plus, I didn’t have to speak to anyone to get it, it was at the self serve bit which was a bonus because A – my speech isn’t perfect today and B – the couple I’d been giving the dead eye to for parking in a parent and child space and then swanning out of their car wearing their slippers with no child in tow were also in the queue…. I couldn’t trust myself NOT to say something but I knew I wasn’t articulate enough to say the RIGHT thing today. It’s so fucking frustrating being a gobby cow when your brain gets tangled – I end up looking like more of a tit than they do, so I keep my battles for when I’m razor sharp these days.

So, scone and a latte it was for both Christiaan and I and when D arrived we set the kids off playing and, with only a wee guided eye, watched them run in different directions, cry, fall and throw themselves around. It’s a cracking set up for younger tots because its enclosed, clean and small, and it’s for under 6’s so no 10 year olds kicking them in the head. D could trust that the wee ones, on the whole, were safe and it meant that we got a bit of chat in between running back and forward to rescue our tiny people…. well Christiaan sorted ours. I was OBVIOUSLY was having a nice sit down. I should have sores on my bum really with all this sitting I do.

We only stayed an hour or so but it was enough that the kids got rid of their energy and it passed the time in a more civilised way than it should have when you have 3 toddlers, hot drinks and cakes/scones in the same room. Eli started to get a bit h-angry though, he was crying at the drop of a hat and getting really clingy so we got ourselves packed up, drove home and fought over brioche again. He’d not touch it today FYI. Do you know, he wouldn’t even try my scone either? What kind of fucking kid prefers an apple to a scone? I should be thanking my lucky stars and I’m sure the NHS is punching the air at the thought of less dental and medical bills if he continues in the same vein (which I know he wont) but the whole thing confuses me and I hate when I can’t find any logic in peoples actions and the fact he won’t even taste things makes my tits itch Anyway, we got home and he went to bed after a bowl of soup, a pudding pot thing and a yoghurt – at least when he does eat he does it with…passion (arseholery). Muzzy free nap though! Which means that he’s done 2 nights and 1 nap time without it. Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd he slept till just before 7 this morning, NOT because of the Gro Fuck Yourself Clock I might add, because, I did bed time last night and forgot to set the bastard thing, but whatever it is, I’ll take it!

This afternoon’s been alright too, I wasn’t sure how it was going to pan out because I’m a bit shit and Christiaan’s not feeling great either but bollockchops decided for us when he came in wearing his “monster soooos and hat mummy… go go in garden, dis way”.  So that’s what we did. No paddling pool today mind, it’s a lot cooler than yesterday here, (about 17 degrees by the sea) and although I think Eli could do with a short sharp shock at times I’m not sure hypothermia is the way to go about it. So it was a more placid affair than yesterday, I had a fleece and two tops on because I’m cold to my very soul and obviously my massive glasses, but I’m out and I’m chuffed to bits that the shitty garden is being enjoyed so much this year.  It was barely in use last year because Eli was still unsteady on his feet and had the judgement of a pissed pensioner with Alzheimers;  it was a like a really sinister game of The Crystal Maze being around him as he catapulted himself off all the grey sharp steps,  but he seems to have got it nailed this year… so far. So bubbles  (thanks for his bubble gun Aunty D), picnic and even Bear having a cuddle – it was a fine way to pass a couple of hours.

As always on a Monday I have to drag myself on that bit later because it’s fat fighters weigh in. I got myself back out in the world for the half an hour it takes to get there, have a nice sit down, get weighed, and then come home again. I generally have no idea how it’s going to go each week. It very much depends on the distance of the furthest shiniest star to the Spar shop, which way the wind is blowing and if the queen has had a jobbie – that’s to say it makes no fucking sense to me when I step on the scales each week. I do the same thing week in, week out and some times I lose loads and sometimes I don’t. It’s a dark art. The problem of having a body that can’t manufacture energy properly is that I suspect it also has no idea what to do with calories most of the time. Instead of using them to covert to energy, it wouldn’t surprise me if it’s just been putting them in a cupboard, beside the carrier bags and the hoover. This week it has chosen to store them though so I had gained a pound. I wish I could say I had been bathing in lard, or drank a million glasses of wine but… well… you know what I’ve eaten so it’s just one of them things innit? No point being pissed off about it, and no point vowing to get it back off next week; it doesn’t work like that when you’ve got M.E. you do what you can with what you’ve got in every part of your life. This is no different. I still had my cheat night dinner, because I always do, and I enjoyed my scone and my crisp roll that I’ve had today – I’ve not gone mental, I never do, but it’s just enough for it to be a treat and tomorrow I’ll be back on plan as normal and I’ll see what happens next Monday. I can’t grumble when I’ve shifted so much already and I’m eating well generally – that’s the important thing.

Only one day of solo parenting this week and that’s tomorrow when Christiaan goes back to work,  so fingers crossed I’ve perked up a bit and it’s not as hard as today was but if it is… fuck it… It’ll soon be bed time. It’s always nearly bed time for me 😉


  • Highlights
    • Yesterday is still fresh in my mind and is making me smile… a lot
    • We’ve had a chilled morning with friends and our wee ones playing in a brightly coloured padded kiddies jail
    • This afty was low key and I got some lovely “Instagram Mum” pics to fool the masses
  • Lowlights
    • I’m shit today which is a massive come down from yesterday
    • A pound on at fat club… reasons unknown, possibly my cake weighed 10 stone or…. ah fuck hold on, I haven’t shat since I had that bean casserole. What day was that? Thursday? That might be it actually, might not be right enough. Who knows.
    • Solo parenting tomoz boooo
  • What’s on the menu Mellars? Well we already know but just in case you want a recap
    • A cherry scone for breakfast
    • A white roll with cheese and onion crisps on for lunch
    • A few slices of a 10″ pizza and some chips tonight
      • i.e. All of the bread products today.

The end



If you’ve just stumbled across TryingToDoItAll and have no bastarding idea what’s going on you should probably go back and read a few blogs from the beginning. Don’t panic, I won’t ask you to read them all, but these few posts will help explain. Oh stop sighing, it’ll only take you a few minutes. Fucks sake.

  1. Well you’re here, so you may as well get comfy
  2. Can’t stop M.E. now…. ahmm having such a good time, ahmm tickling your balllssss!
  3. When are the grown ups coming?
  4. Major surgery…again?
  5. You’ve got to be kidding M.E.?

#mecfs #meawarenessuk #mewarrior #silentillness #swearymum

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