Not age 42 you understand, but number 42. Yep, we finally moved house. To anyone who read my last post back in November 2021, (I know I need to get so much better at this blogging thing) you’ll know that stress levels were rising rapidly at the back end of last year. I won’t blag on about it too much here, I’ll let you inflict that pain on yourself by heading over to the original post and giving it a read .. please.
Anyway, zoom on a couple of months and on Friday the 4th of February 2022, The Mulrooney’s moved in to their forever home, number 42. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all plain sailing on moving day, far from it actually, but once we had locked that door for the final time that night, we both breathed a sigh of relief. We had to keep asking ourselves, is this real? Are we finally in? And the answer was “Yes”. So now the real fun begins … Making it our own.
Stress. That is what it’s beginning to look like. Stress on top of stress on top of stress.
I’ll never admit this to him in person, and when he reads this I shall deny all knowledge of this admission and plead ignorance … but my husband was right. Yep. There. I said it. Back in June when I *finally* got my way and started the process of putting the house on the market, he warned me that it might get too much as I was then slap bang in the middle of my Masters level training for my new job. Did I listen? Yes, of course. Did I heed his warning? Did I bollocks. I managed to get him to agree to a visit from Pendle Hill Properties to have our house valued, marketed etc. Don’t get me wrong, as stressful as the last 5 months has been, I don’t regret it and I’ll come on the reasons behind that later.
I hear you. What the bloody hell is she on about? Let me give some context …
So, I’m the first to admit … I ain’t no Beyoncé. But, I also don’t believe you’d struggle to differentiate between me and Shrek, so it’s not all bad.
About a week ago, myself and Tom decided that we were DONE with our current lifestyle choice. We’ve both put on a couple of lockdown “pounds” (stones, pounds … what’s the difference right?) and we have not been giving any thought at all to what we’re shovelling in, especially of an evening when we’re sat watching tele. So, we decided to really start taking our health seriously and began calorie counting.
We’re in The Jason Manford Weight loss support group on Facebook and I’ve been getting so many amazing ideas from there. We’ve actually really enjoyed calorie counting this week and already, we both feel better. Or at least, I did until yesterday afternoon.
So, almost a year ago, when the world closed for business pretty much overnight, people were a little lost for what to do with themselves. I include myself in this as my working life completely changed and so I signed up to be an FM Distributor to earn a little extra money and give myself something to do in the extremely long days in between shifts.
Many of my friends also decided to start little side hustles too and I was determined to support them any way I could. Ordering, sharing, loving and commenting on their social media pages.
One of my favourite small businesses is one selling gorgeous wax melts in so many different fragrances. Summer Blossom Scents is run by Natalie, the sister of one of my friends and her products are amazing. I’ve had wax melts in the past and found that they didn’t last very long and I was having to change them on a regular basis. Natalie’s melts come in a range of beautiful scents; ranging from popular laundry scents to designer inspired fragrances. One of my favourites has got to be Miss Million … You don’t need me to tell you which dupe that is. It’s divine.
Natalie also made some beautiful festive melts at Christmas including apple berry spice, mulled wine and my personal favourite, White Cocoa and Christmas Cookies. It filled the house with that gorgeous sweet smell that I always associate with festive baking.
My love for these gorgeous products will continue to grow as I’m sure will my collection, much to the delight of Tom who always seems shocked when a new tub of melts appears. You can read some of hubby’s brilliant blog posts right here.
For now, I’m off to choose my next gorgeous scents to see me through the next few days at home.
I have been an avid booklover since being very young. I’m pretty sure my parents have photos of a little preschool me, sat up in bed pretending to read to my teddies and I actually once heaved the full bible in to their bedroom to read it to them at about 5 years old. Just call me Matilda.
I’ve always loved Roald Dahl as an author and had many of his books growing up. George’s Marvellous Medicine was probably one of my favourites and even inspired me to create my own “medicines” in the garden… I’ll let you join the dots with that one. I even had many of these stories on cassette tape and just writing that I now feel incredibly old.
So, as you can imagine, World Book Day has always been a source of excitement for me. Especially the presence of the book fair in the school hall where I got to excitedly spend my book tokens, spending an age browsing through the shelves for that perfect read. You probably won’t be surprised to hear that my idea of a fab trip out on a Saturday morning is to head to the big library in town. My husband is just as big a book nerd as me so this is truly an epic family adventure for us.
Yep, that’s right. Last weekend I turned 30. I was actually having a discussion with my friend, who turned 30 this weekend, where we both admitted to not quite feeling adult enough to be 30 which is crazy really seeing as we’re both married parents. But, it does sound like I’ve aged about 50 years overnight.
Despite being in lockdown so all our original plans having to be scrapped, I really did have a lovely day. I was spoilt rotten by my husband and son, my family and my amazing friends. I received a beautiful video message montage, put together by my sister, which had me laughing and crying in equal measure.
So, now what? Am I meant to feel different now that I’m 30? Well, I actually do. I feel like I’ve taken my life back in my hands. I’ve started working in my dream job. Yes it’s a training year at the moment but I am so determined to smash my way in to that role. I’ve started to take more pride in my appearance; skincare and make up mostly. With this damn lockdown finally almost over, I’m excited to get out in the world again and I want to really make the effort for that first date night, that first family weekend away. Also, we work bloody hard so why not treat ourselves now that we can.
Yep, we’ve all been there. Right? Not just me is it? After the shitstorm that was 2020, I tried not to do the same thing I do every January 1st. I tried to avoid the “New Year, New Me” mantra and instead say to myself, “New Year, Working on Me” instead. See, I don’t want to be a new person. I don’t want a new life or anything like that. I simply want to look after myself better. This includes physical and mental health.
However, I think I went the complete opposite way of “New Year, New Me” and kinda set up camp in “New Year, Continue eating yourself in to an early grave ..” Because, I’ll be honest, that’s where I’ll end up if I carry on. I’ve taken a completely irresponsible approach to my weight in the last 3 months. I look and feel worse now than I did just after having Noah. I’m slowly creeping back up the scales and I can feel it in my joints, my asthma is playing up again and I’m not sleeping well.
I know, I know…so eat less and move more! Simple. Yeah, in theory, it’s as simple as A,B,C. But, as with a lot of tasks, your mindset has to be in the right place and focused on the end goal if you’re to achieve anything at all.
Good lord above, what did I do? In my former life I mean. Did I shoplift? Did I live a life of giving zero fucks about the environment by not recycling? I ask because … come on!
Look, he’s even giving me side-eye because I am daring to ask if it’s time to tidy up!
Don’t get me wrong fellow bloggers. I adore the fact that our house is a messy, lived-in family home. I’m not saying I’d change it, of course I wouldn’t. If you’ve read any of my other posts (or if you know us personally) you’ll know what we’ve been through to get here. But, every time I step on a slightly angled plastic knife, or a discarded piece of fruit (I would say plastic fruit but it’s not always the case), I cry a little inside.
You know the worst part though don’t you? The part that really kicks you right in the foofa .. When they just walk away. They drop the toy bomb and then saunter off and start trying to open drawers to hunt for something they know they shouldn’t have hence why we hid it in the drawer. They then attempt to climb up the curtains which one can only assume is to practice for their upcoming Spider Pig audition. This is all topped off by an attempt to crawl under the sofa to retrieve a cheerio they hid there 3 days ago, before then getting stuck and screaming blue murder.
I’m not quite sure why I’ve chosen now to write this post. Well, that’s a lie. It is partially because I now have Noah so I can write this with a clear mind in a way that will bring comfort, hope and an aspect of realness (I hope) that others may be searching for. If I’d have written this at the time, it wouldn’t have made for very pleasant reading. I was a mess, I’ll be honest.
I also think it has something to do with conversations I’m having with The Divorced Dad (We’ll call him Dave, mainly because I’ve been listening to “The Twelve Daves of Christmas” on Absolute Radio and it’s obviously had an impact.)
Where to start? “At the beginning” I hear you say. Well of course. So,