The Secret Life of a Runny Mummy by Suziewee

It’s two weeks now since my slip up. Things seem to going okay, the arm is less painful so I can now pick Luke up without too much difficulty, and do all the things I need to do. Except drive, which is a bit frustrating.

And run of course, that would be silly.

Saying that I did search on Runners World and found that there are a few people mad enough to run with a broken arm, and I have to say if I didn’t have to push a pushchair I would probably join them. I bet I could probably find someone runner somewhere who has tried run with a broken leg.

After much twitchiness I have invested in an exercise bike to try to maintain some grip on my sanity. It’s jolly useful with a few programs to tinker with. So far I have done a fat burn session for 30 minutes and a weight loss session for 30 minutes. Promises promises - I’m ever hopeful that there will be some benefit soon. These programs just increase the intensity in different orders so I think the names are just there to encourage you. It’s nice to be able to hop on when Luke naps so I can have a burst to keep me happy. My middle daughter was most confused by the whole thing “why have you got a bike with no wheels?” She can’t get her head round why I would be pedalling but not moving anywhere. And even more confusing for her is that not moving anywhere can make mummy puff and sweat a lot! And boy does it make you sweat. The lack of wind resistance must be something to do with that. I just hope the poor sod who has to take my plaster off has a peg for their nose.

And excitingly I have a date for the removal of the plaster. I had an x-ray on Monday to check all was straight and healing, and everything is in order thank goodness. I was worried that all my lugging of a 17lb baby might have jiggled something. So on 11^th July it will come off and I will no doubt be left with a weedy, pale and rather smelly arm.

That was the good news for the week. The rest of the week has been a small catalogue of disasters. On Friday my front door key snapped off in the lock and we were all locked out in the rain. In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea to let my 4 year old loose with the key as she determinedly twisted it with all her might to get the front door open. When I saw it bend I squeaked at her to stop, but it was too late. So another call of distress to my long suffering husband. Except he wasn’t answering either of his phones. I tried to get his office reception by guessing the number and got some poor man who was probably on his way out of the office ready to start his weekend. I think the sound of screaming children in the background spurred him into action as he set off on foot to find him. It is a very big office so not surprisingly he called back 15 minutes later to say he had no luck. In the end we turned up at a friends house like refugees and were very kindly given shelter. Two hours later my husband came to rescue us while giving me a pitying look and wondering aloud if I was able to get through a week without breaking anything!

On Tuesday I was starting to feel stir crazy and ventured into town on the bus. This was quite an adventure, as in this neck of the woods the buses are coaches so you can’t wheel a pushchair on. People are very helpful though and the old ladies liked to pass Luke about while I stowed the buggy and paid the driver. And he wasn’t sick on anyone. It was lovely to get out and meet up with friends at a coffee morning where I ate too much cake. The only problem was that all my planning of the trip overloaded my addled brain and made me forget my daughter’s taster day at school. I was oblivious about it until my 6 year old reminded me at teatime. What a plonker I am and what a thing to forget. I felt terrible and awarded myself yet another bad mother award! The school were very understanding and she can go next week instead. Must do better next time.

Yesterday was my first proper session on the bike. In recognition of my current level of luck I googled exercise bike related injuries. This reassured me that the chances of falling off were fairly remote. But nowhere did it mention you might get stuck in your bra. Stupidly I had put on an over the head type. After working up a sweat for 20 minutes or so Luke woke up and sounded hungry. Off I hopped and tried to get my bra off one handed. Damn the sweat meant it wouldn’t budge and I didn’t have the strength in my broken arm to tug it. I wriggled, tugged, pulled, stretched all to no avail. Luke was starting to get cross. I couldn’t possibly ring my husband for assistance this time. No, I would use the scissors first to prove that I am a capable woman, but that meant a possibility of causing myself actual bodily harm. Thankfully my 4 year old daughter managed to help release me by following my instructions on what to pull when. She’s strong enough to break a key, so too she managed to release her mother from a piece of lycra.

So what else could go wrong? Well I forgot Fathers Day and it wasn’t until I checked Facebook that I realised why my husband was in a bad mood. Oh and I answered the door to salesman after feeding Luke and realised I had forgotten to do myself up properly. It got rid of him though.

The sooner I get running again the better …