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Death by zumba part 2

So I went to Zumba.  The verdict: it is supercharged and it was rather fun.  However, I am pleased to report that it isn't as supercharged as Spinning.  A little more coordination is required but from a I want to die because this exercise class is so hard perspective, Spinning wins.  Any exercise routine that leaves bruises will always win hands down (see http://1974haze.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/death-by-zumba-part-1.html here).

There was much shouting and whooping at Zumba.  I didn't whoop.  I never whoop.  I did, however, fight my way through every routine.  Towards the end, my legs interfered with my enthusiasm because they were, as they are now, aching a lot.  Thus exercise routines penultimate and ultimate were walked through rather than bounced through.  Leg pain, post-exercise, I'm given to understand, is a good thing.  Doesn't feel particularly good though.

LMFAO's 'I'm sexy and I know it' was one of the latter tracks used by the instructor.  Despite a beaming red face, crap leggings and large amounts of sweat, for about 10 seconds I did feel sexy.  In my mind, I was like yeah, check out my sexy Zumba moves.  Then some poor foot coordination and the imagined mirror image of me prancing around like a red faced idiot stepped in and wiped out all thoughts of alluring, fantasy me.  

Maybe after a few months of Zumba, I'll sing 'I'm sexy and I know it' and mean it.
 

Death by zumba part 1

It's been some time since I've blogged on here.  I do manage to squeeze blog posts in via my parenting blog at http://offbeatadventuresinparenting.blogspot.co.uk/.  Given that parenting takes up most of my time, it only follows that my main blog has become the parenting one.  It was created on January of this year.  

Moving onto a little of me, as oppose to mummy me.  Today has been slow so far. Every task has been laboured. This doesn't bode well because tonight is Zumba night. My first dalliance with exercise in a long time. I hope I don't collapse in a heap. I understand that Zumba is supercharged. This worries me. Yet I will be okay as long as it isn't as supercharged as Spinning.

I  have spun, span, spinned (?) twice in my life. What possessed me to repeat the experience can only have been temporary insanity.  After spinning, I had bruises in places that should never turn blue. In fact I had bruises in places I didn't know I had.  Actual bruises.  Post-spinning, my inner thighs became pen pals. It was days before they returned to their together position. John Wayne had nothing on my post-spin walk.  Ride em cowboy.   

If you have ever spun, span, spinned (?) you'll know to what I refer. If you haven't, don't.  But basically you sit on a special exercise bike with a teeny, tiny, thin and super hard seat.  Then you pedal like a crazy person to dance music for an hour or more (unless you die first).  People who spin leave pools of sweat on the floor.  Actual pools. You stand up and pedal a lot.  You stand up, sit down, stand up, sit down a lot too.  And you pedal fast.  You get the picture.

 I do so hope that Zumba doesn't bruise like Spinning.  So Zumba awaits.....here's hoping I make it through.

A little of me, cats and babies

This promises to be a short installment, notably because my 5 month and 1 day old sleeps unsoundly in the cot to my left. I anticipate imminent awakenings.




It is horrendously hot today. I've never been a fan of hot weather. I prefer to snuggle down under a blanket and look into a cosy fire than remove clothes and stare at the sun. Additionally, my daughter is at an age where hot weather is a worry. Unable, as yet, to regulate her own body temperature, she is clothed in a nappy and a t.shirt. All the windows in the house are open. The front door would be too but last time we opened it for a prolonged period, a cat decided to visit us. A later (much later, worryingly) inspection of the floor, uncovered a suspect looking yellow patch next to the dining room table. Thank god our floor doesn't have a carpet.




Anyway, I hate cats. The reasons for which are many but their desire to pee on other people's stuff is a significant one.




Away from cats and onto babies. I have one, which I have already mentioned. The last time I blogged, I didn't, have one that is. I did, if my memory serves me correctly have one brewing. A rather large bump which turned into a rather large baby, weighing in at an impressive and ouchy 9 lbs and 15 ozs. I say ouch but in truth I only felt numb pushing given my epidural - decided upon following a labour that lasted from Monday (then went a away for a bit and recommenced on Tuesday early hours) ending on Thursday late afternoon. I always said I wouldn't be one of those annoying mums that rattle on about their labour and I won't. I will say this though, hypnobirthing, homebirthing and tens machines are fab yet if your labour becomes long (very long) drugs are the only way to go. I had hoped for a magical birth - a journey into the world that my lovely daughter would cherish (albeit subconsciously) yet it was instead forced by surgical implements and surrounded with harsh lighting alongside an array of blue-coated strangers. Hey ho. My husband, genius that he is, sang one of her songs to her as she was cleaned up. A song that we sang every day from about 12 weeks in. Hopefully it helped ease the horror of it all.




So I am now a mum - previous identity irrelevant. That said, I have written a blog and been out with friends once since her arrival. Small steps back to a little bit of me. Motherhood is wonderful but it tends to consume you whole. It also pisses all over your sleep. I'm still working on the sleep. But for now, a blog. A small helping of Hazel that existed before marriage and dirty nappies. I smile.




xx

Time is of the essence

You would think that I had so much time on my hands since redundancy and finishing my Degree that I would be blogging all day, everyday. Wrong. Though I've no idea why. Pregnancy might have something to do with it. Pregnancy, for me at least, has meant muchas sleepiness. So lots of time is spent horizontal right now. May as well enjoy whilst I can. When the little one comes, we prob won't get any.

To add a little structure to my days - I have created a to do list. This also ensures that I actually remember to do things. It seems that my memory is much worse than it was before I got pregnant. A well-known side-effect apparently. There is something quite satisfying about a to do list (as sad and anal as that sounds). You feel that you have achieved something, even if your to do list just says stuff like check your bank balance.

Totally unrelated but I do love that Colman's gravy advert - I like the way you moo. Blooming hilarious.

Biffy songs

I was just emailing someone to find out whether their washable wipes were made in the UK and behold, I received a security verification. Not very exciting in itself. Yet the code in question encompassed two, yes two Biffy Clyro songs. An unlikely happening, I hear you utter. No so, when one of your favourite bands is prone to unusual and numerical song titles.

The image below displays facts:

If your vision is powerful enough, you will see the numbers 57 and 27 in the code. Both Biffy songs from the wonderful album Blackened Sky. Interestingly enough, I just spotted that 27 is listed as 3:27 seconds long on Wikipedia. Coincidence?

It would appear that I am nothing but a geek.

Whilst on the subject of Biffy - I rang my mobile phone provider yesterday and was serenaded with Many of horror. At least that was my momentary thought. Turned out to be the X Factor version. Same song, same music, different singer, different song title and nowhere near as good. Somehow X Factor treatment makes the song seem a little namby pamby. Words that you would not utter in relation to Biffy unless you said "Biffy they are not namby pamby". Plus side - Biffy re-charted with Many of horror, following the X Factor release.

Another thought - it is nice to know that when making ethical purchases for our baby-to-be (the washable wipes) that I can still dive into a little bit of rock music. Who said that mummys weren't rock and roll cool. Not me, that's for sure.

x

Things that make you go hmmmm

I wonder why it is that ladies that have already walked the long path towards motherhood often want to impart upon the fledgling pregnant lady a vast array of pregnancy horror stories? I'm sure it is generally done with the absolute best intentions but why oh why? Surely I'd be better off focusing on the nice bits like the moment you first hold your newborn child.

Lots of people have shared lovely, helpful things with me too and I am grateful for these but the bad bits? I don't want the bad bits. I don't want to hear that people have been sick right through their pregnancy or even to their 3rd trimester. I don't want to know that labour is the most painful thing ever - I know it will be but I don't need reminding (because I haven't forgotten, I give labour quite a lot of thought, in between wrapping a mask around my head so I can use the toilet and wash the dishes - a necessary task due to soapy, greasy smells lurking there).

I can't wait to meet my baby. I'm trundling along with the poo bits of pregnancy quite erm nicely. So please please please lovely mums of the world, keep the horror stories for Halloween and stop sharing with me.

x