The first one… a year on.

In just a couple of weeks (I think?) this little blog will blow out a candle. So, I’m putting on my big girl pants (no, not nanna undies … DON’T get them confused, people), and linking up my very first post with Robomum in the Lounge to have a little peek at how far (or not) I’ve come.

It’s short. It makes me wince a little. What the hell. Here it is.

the-lounge-logo

My Happy Place
So, I joined a gym.

Exercise used to be to lose weight, to look good in a bikini (yep, ok, naked) and to not feel completely crap when turning up at the beach or, worse, flicking through a glossy mag featuring models in bikinis, WHILE at the beach, wearing a bikini. But now?

Now I just want a quiet place. A place where nobody pulls on me and asks for food, a place where nobody hits anybody (without gloves on), and, blissssssssss, a place where I can ride a bike to nowhere and read a trashy magazine about nothing while someone else looks after my kids for the princely sum of $2. If you need motivation to exercise, people, have children!

The other day I was feeling particularly grumpy about my domestic ungoddessness (it’s my blog and I’ll make up words if I want to DAMMIT) and I needed to get out of the house desperately. Where to go? Where to go?

YOGA. Perfect. Ten minutes of screaming at the girls to get shoes on, eat breakfast, stop dancing on the toilet, and we were in the car driving at breakneck speed towards RELAXATION.

I barrelled through the door without a second to spare, lay down and took my ten long breaths in, and out, in, and out.

I fell asleep. And it was good.

 

This is not me not doing yoga.

My happy place

So, I joined a gym.

Exercise used to be to lose weight, to look good in a bikini (yep, ok, naked) and to not feel completely crap when turning up at the beach or, worse, flicking through a glossy mag featuring models in bikinis, WHILE at the beach, wearing a bikini. But now?

Now I just want a quiet place. A place where nobody pulls on me and asks for food, a place where nobody hits anybody (without gloves on), and, blissssssssss, a place where I can ride a bike to nowhere and read a trashy magazine about nothing while someone else looks after my kids for the princely sum of $2. If you need motivation to exercise, people, have children!

The other day I was feeling particularly grumpy about my domestic ungoddessness (it’s my blog and I’ll make up words if I want to DAMMIT) and I needed to get out of the house desperately. Where to go? Where to go?

YOGA. Perfect. Ten minutes of screaming at the girls to get shoes on, eat breakfast, stop dancing on the toilet, and we were in the car driving at breakneck speed towards RELAXATION.

I barrelled through the door without a second to spare, lay down and took my ten long breaths in, and out, in, and out.

I fell asleep. And it was good.

 

This is not me not doing yoga.