life

You’ll turn out ordinary if you’re not careful

~ Fridgesays ~ 43 Comments

Quote by Ann Brashares.

This quote made me smile. So many people of all ages lack a love for themselves. Why? Most of us are trying to be someone we aren’t. Perhaps not all of the time, but as we juggle all of the various hats on that we wear throughout the day we prefer the fit of some and hide behind others.

During my early teaching years I tried to emulate colleagues who I thought did the job well, or teachers who taught me. It didn’t work. It wasn’t me.

As a mother that was an entirely new hat (complete with ruined core muscles) that took a while to fit. I needed my hat adjusted as I took on the new role. To work out who my mum tribe was, to raise my little dude in our own way and to adjust the hat to fit me. I can’t mum like my mother did, I’m not her, although she is an amazing example, I’m raising my child in a different era with a new journey ahead of us. It took a while and needs constant adjusting but my mum hat is bespoke. It’s me and it fits like a dream.

I’m not sure anyone is happy to live an ordinary life, I think we would all opt for sparkle and quirk. However, there are a few things you need to do to live this life.

  • You need to be brave, to step away from the crowds when it doesn’t suit you.
  • You need a tribe around you that accepts you, cracks an’ all.
  • You need time to yourself, balanced with time with loved ones. There is a lot of research to suggest we ‘are’ the five people we spend the most time with. If these people are ordinary so are you.

I can’t juggle my ever growing hat stand without time for myself; to be creative, to be healthy and to be quiet. The world is a whirl of distractions and so I need to breath and pause, to check I’m on the pathway that best fits me.

This week perhaps you need to check your own hat stand out. The hats that are last season, the hats you hate, the hats you wear because everybody else does. Perhaps it’s even time to buy a new hat. Just make sure the hats are your own design and not made for somebody else.

Happy hat shopping.

My boobs are not small, they are low fat.

~ Fridgesays ~ 45 Comments

Quote from an unknown petite chest, fab perspective lady.

Today my inspiration is all about boobs and my boob journey. I just got into bed and had an epiphany about life (as you do), so I began to type it out. It may be useful for breast feeding mums, but actually I’m hoping you’ll see it’s not about boobs at all.

When I was twenty-two years old I remember walking out of the doors of our local shopping centre with my Mum and I began the sentence with ‘when my boobs stop growing…’ she then interrupted and broke the news that they were done growing and what I had was all that was coming my way. I obviously knew this deep down but I guess the Disney princess in me was hoping for a extra handful, plus my Mum has more than her fare share so I was clutching on for some of her genes. Turns out I’m my Dads daughter and match his moob size.

Life went on and I learned about wonder bras and perfected scaffolding techniques that meant I now have a back up industry should I ever need a new career.

Then just when I was at my lowest they let me down by being amazing. After we came home from the hospital without our new bundle I was told that due to my emergency caesarean, stress and how long it had been I was unlikely to get any breast milk through. Mr F took me ‘home’ not to our house (too many baby items ready and waiting that I couldn’t bare to look at) but to my Parents. He surrounded us with love and my bestie came to stay over night. In the morning I woke and cried at the realisation that the nightmare we was living wasn’t a dream but our new reality. It was during this emotional outpour that my boobs exploded with milk. Useless milk that was too late, that meant my body didn’t know what my mind did…the baby had died, it didn’t need to be fed and I certainly didn’t need reminding. It was another stab and firm reminder that my body wasn’t my own. Luckily, it soon dried up and I have to say months after I was pretty proud that my fried eggs had it in them to produce milk. They worked.

Four years later we decided to ‘not try to try’ and have a baby. During this pregnancy it was worse, denial was my only hope of sanity as any interaction with the reality of ‘this could happen again’ was too much for my heart to cope with. I read nothing, I only went to appointments that I absolutely needed to and I worked as close to my due date as possible. Then I had my planned Caesarian (I already had the sunroof , why not use it?) and with a tug and a pull a healthy baby boy. With this came a new game plan: Get him home. In the UK this means approximately 3 days of monitoring and a lot of wee to produce for midwives that like to measure it by the pint. I have never drunk so much water in my life to satisfy there wee desires. My milk didn’t kick in straight away so we fed him with a little cup and some formula, I also breast fed – it began straight after he was placed on me for skin to skin contact and he literally sniffed by breast and attached himself; his Dad always gets good value at an all you can eat buffet, so I wasn’t that surprised. Did I know what I was doing? Hadn’t a fucking clue. If it hurt – I pulled him away, if it felt nice I let him stay until he had got bored. Now before we get into breast feeding Vs bottle formula, I couldn’t give a scooby doo, I had mission ‘Get him home’ everything else was irrelevant. I kept Midwife’s away by telling them what they wanted to hear, I kept my curtains closed and counting the sleeps down one by one. I even gave the scary cow machines a go (keep the Midwife’s happy) and expressed pretty much nothing. We continued to cup feed and I knew my boobs could do it.

We managed to get little dude home and then the next mission began: Keep him healthy for the next eighty odd years. Generally I breast fed and Daddy gave him one bottle a day. I kept the formula because it served three purposes – bonding for Daddy, a break for me and it also released some new mum guilt that I was producing by the bucket load of ‘if I’m not producing enough then at least he is getting something’, this is where the breast feeding journey should end but life’s a b*tch and just when you figure things out a new born likes to screw things up – he rejected my right breast. Apparently this is to do with me being left handed and how I was holding him, I then expressed the right, fed from the left and Daddy did his one evening formula…until I lost my sanity, expressing wasn’t for me, it felt totally unnatural and dull. It took over lives as I had to be near the express machine for every other feed which meant our house became my prison.

I then read an article about mums of twins who feed each baby on each breast (not sure how triplets do this?) and thought ‘screw you right express boob, I’ll just feed from the left’. And so until we introduced food this is what I did. The right boob dried up, he only drank from the left side of the bar and had one Daddy formula before bed.

Now to relate my boobs to life. I think if you over complicate things (breast feeding) then you’re likely to fail. I honestly didn’t know how to attach a child to my nipple – he did it himself. I went with the flow and made it work for me. I also scaffold those bad boys like Amazon packaging – the gift inside isn’t always as big as the box it comes it, so don’t be fooled by how people package their life, social media tells a lot of ‘amazon boxes’ and people like to post only the best of themselves, it doesn’t mean they are better than you or have anything worked out. I truly believe we are just winging it, day by day.

The human body is amazing. Seriously I made 2 tiny humans with 2 basic ingredients and a shed load of percentages against me. I’ve probabaly insulted my boobs more times than reality TV stars have told the truth and they fed my son regardless. I think we need to start loving ourselves and especially what we perceive as our flaws way more to be happy, healthy humans. Life (much like a new born) likes to throw a curve ball every now and then and we like to get stressed, frustrated and angry – when really we need to take a step back, breathe and may be a little like Dory and look for another direction to swim in.

So a toast, to boobs, moobs and the miracle of life! We can make it work, overcome anything thats put in our path, which I think its something seriously worth toasting. Stay blessed and if like me you have low fat boobs be grateful they are healthy.

It’s all messy #life

~ Fridgesays ~ 20 Comments

Quote by William Leal

When I set out to write a motivational blog I knew I’d capture a little of me a long the way. I think it’s important to remind you that my life isn’t perfect, but I have/will always choose to look at my glass of life half full.

However, sometimes things get messy and the roller coaster of life takes a bigger dip than anticipated or stops all together. It’s these days more than most that looking at life with a positive viewpoint is harder but beneficial in the short and long term. These words are as much for me as they are for you – during the messy times in life, its hard to smile and to see a glimmer of light, but I promise you its a choice we all have the power to make.

Sometimes being a parent means I lose a sense of me; I serve my career, I serve my family and then I crawl into bed and when I wake my hair is messy and this is how my day begins. Sometimes I’m trying to create the ultimate Elsa French plait and it ends up looking like Ursula from The Little Mermaid, at that moment in the mirror my world crumbles but in the grand scheme of things…life goes on.

As I get the household ready and scoop them out of the door little jobs get lost a long the way, the dishwasher isn’t turned on or the bed hasn’t been made and usually I forget a coat or cardigan for myself but you’d be surprised at how many lovely people will lend you shelter in a storm.

When people talk, often what they want to say doesn’t flow or they can’t find the right words to express how they feel. Words are complex and without intention we can make hurtful comments, or perhaps just misjudge a situation and although words can be painful…in time the words can be found and relationships can be rebuilt.

The metaphorical heart feels amazing when its found a new love, it expands and flows with ease and life can feel effortless until it suffers rejection, insults and for some deception and heart break. But it can rebuild, given time it can find new things to enjoy and although it may put up some walls of protection it can flourish and see brighter days.

Our actual hearts are complex organs that works to keep our blood flowing and in turn every other organ that we need to live in full operation, it can’t make a fault, take a break or have a bad hair day. We need it. Its superior to modern machinery and it helps us create our life’s cycle, and according to something called ‘Heart Math’ a whole lot more besides.

Perhaps this week ‘life’ will get a little messy, behind the next corner you may find bad hair days and hurtful words or even be let down in ways that you never thought possible by someone you held dear. At the time it may not be OK (and thats OK too) but remind yourself that life is precious and whilst your heart keeps ticking there is always time to repair.

You may need some tools to guide you, Heart Math is taking the world by storm, I googled ‘what is Heart Math’ and got this:

Answer: HeartMath is a unique system of rigorous scientific research, validated techniques, leading-edge products and programs and advanced technologies for people interested in personal development and improved emotional, mental and physical health.

In essence its six long breaths to ‘reset’ your heart thus reducing stress and increasing resilience. Research shows it increases life expectancy and also the positive emotional wellbeing experienced. Its worth a little internet research and passing the technique on to those you love, after all life will always be a little messy.

* written on a Sunday evening with messy, greasy locks that have overdue roots and probably too many split ends…and thats OK too. No PR collaboration – written from the heart.