We have all been there looking at the clock in the hope that time will stand still just long enough to prevent that pretty little head of yours disappearing into ones own posterior. So with days like these how on earth do you find time for you ??
Nobody knows this better than me……. I worked long hours 40 hours plus each week to be precise and still managed to keep a clean and tidy home an empty linen basket and still have time for the two men in my life, ( keep it clean folks one of them is my son before you have me down as a wanton woman ). Therefore you don’t need to be Einstein to realise that during that speech on holiday there was no mention of me doing anything other than providing and taking care of others and that is what made mummy a grumpy mare and that is what made wifey a resentful partner. So who was to blame??????
In short me….. neither my son nor my husband cared if there was a basket of ironing left at the end of the week or if our home was not gleaming to a show home standard what they did care about was spending time with the woman they loved and seeing her happy. So one day after scraping just about enough time together to paint my toenails before going away on holiday I recalled the time in my younger years when tragedy struck, just before a big night out during a hot summer…… My big toe nail fell off !!!!!!!! . Recoiling in horror at the thought of leaving the house and socialising with a toe that resembled a mangled potato or having to wear full shoes instead of pretty strappy sandals I attempted to stick a too small false thumbnail onto my newly acquired Maris Piper, needless to say it looked worse . So without further ado I took my dads superglue from his man drawer and expertly stuck it back on. One bright red polish later and Voila problem solved ( not quite it got infected but that’s another story ).
It was after recalling that memory that I considered that fact that maybe I didn’t seen to care as much about me as I use to and the fact that if it happened now I doubted very much if anybody would even notice or care about an odd looking toe and probably wouldn’t give it a second thought. But then I also considered, is it because I am more at ease with myself and place less importance on what other people think now I am older ? Either way remembering the way I use to be made me smile so that night I not only painted my nails but I also put on a face mask, it was so out of date though I came out in a rash and without another face to glue on a la toenail style I had to trust the ” more at ease ” with myself theory and walk around like I had fallen face first in stinging nettles for a week . The next weekend I went out on my own and restocked ALL of my beauty products I took time to get to know my skin again and pledged that I owed it to the twenty something me to carry on looking after myself like I use to. I reduced my hours to a more sane 37.5 hour week and as I type this there is a basket of ironing that needs doing. But it can wait…
Part of being a good juggler is practice if you drop the balls you pick them up again and try a different technique and remember you are always working to better yourself and along the way develop a better coordination for life .
Related : Apparently actual juggling has many benefits for both body and mind , who would have thought it eh ? So whilst I scour the house for a set of balls that are not already attached to a living person why don’t you check out @jugglefit on Twitter.
xx AJ XX