I don't seem to do half the things I intend to: or if I do get around to doing them it's less frequently and more delayed than I would have wished. Maybe I'm just not self-disciplined enough.
I had my first singing lesson in months a fortnight ago, and had done no practice and in fact hardly sung since the Carlisle Music Festival in March. So starting lessons again I thought would be a kick up the backside to get me practicing again. Have I? No. Having people to stay hasn't helped as I don't like practicing when there are other people in the house (other than the children and Husband, that is): but I've also had other things to do which I have let take a priority.
Husband also said that I should make a daily run with the buggy (and of course baby) a priority, but having felt keen when the weather was glorious, and also assuming I'd be able to get out while my parents were staying, the rainy weather and the fact that I didn't want to leave the baby with my parents unless he was asleep both served as rather feeble excuses not to go out running, and the five days or so when I was going to get fit again boiled down to one half-hour run, twice round Talkin Tarn.
Needless to say my weight loss has slowed down or stopped again. I really thought last week was the week that I'd get down to something with a '9' at the beginning, but it hasn't. The Baby brought milk up all over my trousers again today and my jeans were out to wash, so I resorted to a pair of jeans which are meant to be the same size as my normal ones but which were tight even before I got pregnant. I just squeezed into them but after a few hours I decided they really weren't very comfortable and got my tracksuit bottoms out of the drawer. My hips and stomach can now spread out at ease.
The Baby isn't losing any weight either, not that he's meant to. His appetite continues to be keen and he's now just about in 6-9 month clothes (at 4, nearly 5, months), as much for the width as the length. They're not desperately over-long on him either, although maybe it's the fact that he fills them width-ways which makes them fit. He has mostly taken to solid food like a duck to water, his favourites being the home-made ones (we tried him on a pot today but he didn't eat much and then proceeded to bring quite a bit of it back up). Parsnip, butternut squash, pear (including pear and apple with cinnamon) and banana have all gone down well - carrot was not popular. I have to say having tasted bits myself, they did all taste rather good. The problem is trying to decide when to feed him and get him into some sort of mealtime routine, as if he's hungry and demanding a bottle all hell breaks loose. I'm also trying to think what to give him for breakfast, as he didn't think much of the baby porridge: perhaps if I mix it with fruit puree he'll like it.
He generally continues to be an incredibly happy, smiley, giggly baby. He was laughing at something in the kitchen earlier - possibly the smell of roast beef cooking - and then later at his Dad making funny faces at him. His mecurial temperament means however that he'll be giggling away merrily one moment and then red in the face and crying his eyes out - usually with hunger - the next.
Older son seems to be getting a lot of red cards at school, all for talking. I sympathise with him (I only ever got into trouble for talking, although I can recall one other heinous crime which I never admitted to and which I feel embarrassed about when I remember (dropping gravel on a car roof)) but I also completely support the teacher trying to get the rather boisterous class to pay attention and listen to instructions. I couldn't teach: not in a school classroom, anyway.
As usual the evening has rolled on and is rapidly disappearing and I really must get to bed soon. I've been sitting up late reading as I have been enjoying The Russian Concubine (Kate Furnivall), recommended and lent to me by my mother-in-law who belongs to a book group. I should be reading some French and will go to the library and get a French book out now I've finished this one, but just wanted to get this one finished first. It's set in China around the time that the Communists were trying to take over, and like so many books I have read in the last couple of years which are set in foreign countries, has made me realise how little I know about the country and its history. It didn't make me want to go to find out more with quite such a burning desire as I have felt from other novels, but it did make me think that at some point I should research a little into China's past. I think what comes across well in the novel, although perhaps this is because I am a westerner, is the awareness and understanding of the Chinese traditions and way of life and how arrogant the British can be in other countries: but to counter that there is also the violence of Chinese society with the triads and rather brutal police. If anything elements related to that can seem rather far-fetched and the book becomes possibly a bit melodramatic, but it kept me enthralled and wanting to know what happened next. There is also some reference to Russian society and the upheavals in 1917 and the repercussions of that: in fact that is where the book begins. I think that it was probably a good sign that at the final page I wanted to know whether the heroine achieved her next few goals and dreams, although I also found it rather frustrating: I hope the writer will produce a sequel.
Talking of dreams, I'm entering various competitions including one for Classic FM which is about making dreams come true. I've won nothing in the last year or so but I'm sure I shall at some point: the odds are that I have to at some point, surely?!
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