Clickety clack

This train is chuff-chuffing along picking up speed and I'm running out of puff trying to catch up. The garden has suddenly taken off with the spring sun flooding more of the beds with its warmth. The peas are out of control, the broccoli and cabbages need picking and eating, the cauliflower is still growing its leaves long after we've beheaded them all and now I see the leeks covered in aphids.

I've got packets of borlotti bean seeds waiting to be sown and all my kale and basil seedlings are waiting to be given a home. Trouble is, I haven't moved on the previous tenants yet.

Recipes are still in my head and not on paper or shot on camera, which is where they should be if they are ever to get to the magazine on time, and I'm supposed to be interviewing a breadmaker this week for another feature. Oh, and I'm also attending a compost and worm farm workshop tomorrow and I've just realised it's the end of term so that means saying thank-you to Luca's preschool teachers. It was cake last term. I think we'll do tangy onion chutneys this week.

Say no, woman!

Well, yes, but I'm so inspired to do it all. The more I give to the garden, the more it gives back. I love my little blog and the creative freedom it gives me and the fact I don't have to do it, so I squeeze that in too. I don't normally have three deadlines in the space of a week...

I have the same hours in a day as everyone else (not sure if that would be news to you?), so to fit my life in as it currently looks, something has to give. If I want to indulge what inspires me, if I want an abundant garden, if I want to cook from scratch (and face all the washing-up afterwards) and still have plenty of time for my children, there are things that fall by the wayside.

Me for starters. If you knew me before Kian was born, I looked a certain way. I look... different to how I looked then. I wear maternity baggy tops and I can only fit into one pair of jeans (ever wondered why there are very few pics of me on here?). It doesn't make me happy, but I can't possibly fit exercise into my week. Ahem, ahem.

I don't make much time for me. I tend to forget about me. We all do it, I know. I forget to moisturise. I forget to each lunch. It's been years since I had my hair cut.

But on Friday night, I did something for me. I was invited to a group meditation at a friend's house. Never been to one before, but my whole being said go! A chance to relax, be centred and switch off from everything. No matter how busy you get, I know this is important.

I switched off all right.

The sounds were beautifully soothing and comforting. And when the lady chimed the bell at the end, I sat up in a daze.

Then came a voice: Who was that snoring like that?

Oh dear god, please don't let that be me. Please. I can handle falling asleep at a Rolling Stones concert and in every facial I've had. But not here with all these people.

It was me. I quickly and quietly asked someone if I was loud.

Moderate, but it means you went really deep, so that's good.

I was mortified.

But wow did I feel great afterwards. I was even more motivated than I was before. The following day I felt calm and present.

I'd like to go again next week, but not sure if they'll have me back.


Do you fall asleep whenever you try to relax? Do you ever feel like your train is running away with you?