The art of finding the hyacinth..

Posted on by Ali Mortimer

a weed is just a flower

As I had a quick scroll through facebook posts this morning, and an image with a quote saying ‘A negative mind will never give you a positive life’. And I had to comment… share my thoughts about the concept of ‘Mental Gardening’: a beautiful garden only remains beautiful, if consistently maintained, fertilized, loved and cared for.

Yes, you can blitz it every once in a while, but if you leave it, it will soon become overgrown with weeds and brambles again, strangling the life out of the good plants and flowers. It is an onerous task to dig up and re-plant an entire garden. Therefore, the concept of mental gardening refers to the daily maintenance of your thoughts, the weeds and brambles the negative thoughts, the maintenance being the ‘weeding’ out of thoughts that don’t serve you and the fertilizer the way in which you feed your mind with positive thoughts and feelings.

A comment back made me think this through further and as I walked along the river and through the woods this morning, scenarios played in my head…

There are many types of gardens… and we all have our own personal images of the idyllic garden. For me, my favourite garden is my Godmother’s … a beautiful English country garden, overgrown with roses of every colour, height and smell… a long meandering garden, with hidden corners, trellises, dark and mysterious in some parts and light and warm in others… with the fairies at the end of the garden behind the compost heap.

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I compare this with Mr OCD’s perfect garden: regimented, perfectly straight mown lined lawns, trimmed box hedges, clipped, tall arrow fir trees, mainly green but with a few, simple coloured flowers that would have to be in rows and planted in total symmetry.

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Does this reflect our differing minds and mentalities? My mind overgrown, a tangle of thoughts, feelings, a beautiful, interesting mélange, perfect…   His, structured, neat, perfect….

I can see us both walking in our own gardens at peace… James standing tall, walking proudly, nodding at the perfect lawns, surveying the future clearly laid ahead of him…

And me, smiling, wonderous as I wander along the path, bending under branches of low apple trees, smelling the roses, excited to discover what is beyond the next gate.

My country garden would definitely have weeds, for some are beautiful…. I love daisies, poppies, clover, dandelion puffballs.. the fields and acres of Swiss mountain wildflowers of my childhood… silvery edelweiss, fields of blue gentians and sunshine primulas…

So that begs the question – do weeds provide a purpose too? Are they just as important and nutritious to keep our soil fertile to allow the true flowers and plants to grow?

I look at some of the weeds in my mind – the sad thoughts I have about my Mum… If I was to pull out those weeds, strim them down… would something worse grow in their place? Would they be replaced by more harmful weeds, nettles and the guilt of not caring? For that would surely sting more than reflecting on the sad, pretty cluster of daisies, representing the memories of my pretty Mum.

As we walk along the river bank, there is a large patch of ground covered in brambles, leaves, woodland weeds…. And sprouting in the middle, right in the middle is a beautiful patch of bright pink hyacinths. How perfect. To me this represented a mind that is in despair and it made me think of a few close to me whose mental garden could be reflective of this image. For in amongst every overgrown, strangled, desperately bland garden, there can always be a little patch of beauty… the quest is to find it… and focus on it. Find the joy in that small, pretty flower, fertilise it, water it and watch it grow… for like the hyacinths it will grow and spread and soon become a carpet of beautiful flowers, taking over the painful brambles and nettles.

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Let there be calm…

Posted on by Ali Mortimer

It was my intention this morning to write later tonight… after double date night. A little experiment to see what would happen when I had had a few too many drinks! Would I be able to blog?! Type? What would come out?!!!

However, the house is calm. All is quiet. Only the sounds of the dog licking her legs after her walk and swim in the river.

I am calm.

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I am worried why I feel calm? Shouldn’t I be feeling something else? It feels strange to feel this calm…. I haven’t worn this feeling for a while.

I slept last night. An amazing sleep. Nearly 11 hours. Mr OCD turned into Mr Wonderful… I didn’t really hear him get up… And as I wake up at nearly 10am, I find a cold cup of tea on my bedside table; he had obviously come up and given it to me without me waking hours ago.

The boys are fed, chilled and happy.

I offer to take the boys to football, but Mr W wants to take them… so I have another hour or so of peace. Time to myself… I run. It’s a misty, quiet day and it feels good to get out and raise my heart rate – something I hadn’t been able to do for a few days.

I return to find that Mr W is washing my car! With the help of little Willy on the power spray, Mr W teaches him how to go round the alloys to make sure each bit is perfectly clean (he is still Mr OCD!)…

The boys practice rugby throws and catches (we will win the World Cup when the Mortimer brothers play for England – Tom has already stated that he wants to be the England captain)… while Mr W (with his OCD hat on) clears out the garage and sweeps the yard and I get immense satisfaction from moving my summer wardrobe to the spare room and bring out my favourite autumnal clothes. There is something exciting about doing this exercise! It feels like I get a whole new set of clothes but yet somehow there is comfort in that I know they fit, know they don’t itch… it’s like greeting old friends.

It is quiet now, peaceful; the dog has stopped licking, there is the gentle hum of the fridge and the tapping of my fingers…

Mr W has taken the boys for a swim…. It is inflatable time at the pool.

The cynic in me is questioning why Mr W today? What does he want? The rugby is over… so it can’t be because he wants to go out for beers with the boys?

But the calmness is just so lovely, Snow White is bundling Dobby off and out of the house. I am too calm for that noisy sort of self chatter.

I’ll just let it be that he is Mr W today for no other reason than just that he is….

(And the tipsy blog will have to happen another day!)

The secrets of getting stuff done…

Posted on by Ali Mortimer

Ugh.

If there is any day or any night, that I wish I hadn’t given myself this daily blog challenge for a year… it’s today. I am sure it won’t be the last…. But it is the first.

Weird week…   and I am clearly unsettled as I haven’t really slept for two nights. You know those nights when you lie on your back and you think you are awake.. until something really does wake you up? I have had two of those.

I usually sleep like a dead person. I have been woken up by James before… his panic stricken face, right in my face, nose nearly to nose… as he shakes me violent… ‘Ali! Are you alive?’… well I nearly die from the shock.. but yes – I wake up and say ‘I am alive, but moments from a heart attack!’ ….. I don’t move when I sleep. I know that because while James isn’t here in the week, I wake up in the same position as I fall asleep in, the covers not moved… his side of the bed still made perfectly, throw cushions in tact. If I lie in my favourite position, on my back, hands on my chest… I can see why he would think I am dead. We were clearly made for each other – I sleep like the dead. Only a dead person could sleep through his snoring. The house shakes! Literally…

So yes… today is the day that I really feel like not writing…   However, I am not that kind of person. I don’t like to let myself down.

And it kind of ties in with a question I have had from a few people recently… ‘how do you fit it all in?’.

There really is no secret. I don’t possess magic or a magic wand.

It’s called commitment.

Simply that.

Oh and a few friends called, planning, prioritizing and delegation.

My tools are my lists; they are on note pad (I have 2 usually on the go) and multiple in my iphone list app.

I learnt this through a methodology we applied and had fantastic success with when developing code for the Asda Direct website – an agile methodology. And you work to the principle of the ‘Minimal Viable Product’.   Basically get the minimum done as quickly as you need in the time you need it to be done… work with that until you know you need to add more to it, to improve it. If what you have done isn’t working, you can scrap it without being too hard on yourself for having spent too much time or money on it.

So you have you lists (in agile terms – your backlog of tasks). You then prioritise these tasks, putting the one that will give you your biggest bang for your buck at the top. This could be the job you want to do least, but you know you need to get it done. It is also called ‘eating the frog’ (great book – Brian Tracy). Once you have done it, you free up so much headspace, rather than worrying all day about not getting it done. Everything else after that feels easy! Effortless! And you can check off item by item… and that feels amazing! What a great day!

Then you delegate.

I delegate to myself first and choose the top 6 or so things that need to get done and I plan them through my day – around daily commitments (ie. Kids drop off, eating (need fuel!), kids bed time, pick up, appointments, gym/ spin, walking the dog etc).

I then scan through the list to see who I can ask for help. I am a big believer in asking for help.. especially, if someone is better at something than me – for example, gardening – I am seriously brown fingered and kill everything.

Anything else isn’t a priority, it can stay on the backlog until it becomes a priority or I have lots of time. Like my accounts. Which I am a) rubbish at b) bored by doing c) the more James tells me to do it, the more I dig my heels in… he would be better at doing them than me anyway!

So nearly 20 years of learning in consulting, technology, project management, professional career, now continues to pay off… and I didn’t realize that until now.

In fact, I can’t believe I have just written a blog about agile methodology…   but at least I blogged.

Commitment means staying loyal to what you said you would do, long after the mood you said it in has left you. (Unknown)

Commitment is the glue which bonds you to your goals. (Jill Koenig)

Commitment leads to action;   Action brings your dreams closer. (Marcia Wieder).

Commitment: there is but one degree of commitment: total (Arnie Sherr).

Commitment is what transforms a promise into a reality (Abraham Lincoln).

And my favourite:

Commitment is an act, not a word (Jean-Paul Sartre).

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Just a girl in a pink jumper and the fish necklace…?

Posted on by Ali Mortimer

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I am on the train going home… another Grand Central. This time it is packed! It’s the grand exodus from London to the North…   I wonder if there is anyone else playing the ‘Who are they game?’… I wonder what they would say about me?

Would they guess the truth? Could they guess based on the clues…?

Would they guess a Mum of 2, wife of 1 big Yorkshire lad?

Possibly by the rings on my fingers, (and the bells on my toes!) and the screen saver on my phone…

Would they guess a business owner, passionate about health, wellness?

Possibly by the litre of water, box of almonds and Arbonne literature I am brushing up on in front of me…

Would they guess a coach of other business owners, mentor in schools?

Possibly by the Mosaic book, notes I am scribbling…

Would they guess a daughter, emotional after a fleeting visit to the mental hospital to see her Mum with Alzheimer’s? Emotional from the recognition that the Alzheimer’s, the medication or both is slowing her Mum to a state that she now needs help walking, now only babbles for communication; emotional after not being recognized as the eldest daughter of two; emotional that the holding of her hand wasn’t reciprocated, that she sat on the sofa with her back towards her; emotional at saying goodbye and the sudden multiple, featherlite kisses and clinging cuddle; emotional from looking back and seeing her Mum’s face pressed the window pane…..

Possibly, if they look in to her eyes deep enough…

Would they guess a daughter relieved that the mental hospital wasn’t like the one in Jack Nicholson’s ‘one flew over the cookoo’s nest’; relieved that the nurses are kind, caring, the salt of the earth; relieved that the lump is nothing to worry about; relieved that she is clean, washed and is safe.

Possibly… but that’s a tricky one…

Would they guess a daughter who was shocked at her Dad’s big black eye and droopy blood filled eye bag? A daughter initially shocked, but then delighted to hear that her Dad wants to travel the world, carry on the trips and adventures, find a companion and live again? A daughter who just wants her Dad to live the rest of his life having fun, being a Granddad and doing whatever the hell he likes! A daughter who believes that her Dad is a hero for spending over 8 years caring and living the only life he could while looking after his wife with Alzheimer’s….

Possibly… but I doubt it!

Would they guess a friend who has had a lovely day catching up with friends – fresh juices and future plans; a cheeky bottle of sauvignon on Putney wharf…

Possibly? … and now I am paranoid, is the smell of booze from me?! Or is it the man opposite?!

Would they guess a wife still smiling at the recollection of a dinner ‘a deux’, burgers and beers, snoozing on the sofa in the flat of many memories?

Possibly … as the corners of my mouth turn up as I think of this..

Would they guess a Mummy excited to get home to give her two blond babies death by kisses?

Possibly … my mouth turns up even more!

Or would they just see a girl, a woman… with short brown hair in a pink jumper and fish on the end of her necklace?

Sunday Medicine

Posted on by Ali Mortimer

Sundays to me have always been a little bit about tradition… Family. Walks. Sunday Roasts. Peeling potatoes. The Archers in my childhood, more recently Downton…

Today was the perfect medicine and I found my off switch.

There is nothing lovelier that being brought a cup of tea in bed on a Sunday morning, the curtains opened gently so the sunshine streams in. And as I watch Downton this evening, I wonder how lovely it must have been to have had that every day…. I must have been Lady Mary in another life!

There is nothing lovelier than gathering soft cushions and pillows all around you to have a peaceful 30 minutes of reading a good book, with the gentle noise of 3 boys having breakfast together and I leave them to it for this is the only day a week they get to have a ‘man breakfast’ together…

There is nothing lovelier than pulling on your favourite winter jogging pants, slipping on your trusty trainers and letting popping tunes fill your head as you pound the pavements… There is nothing lovelier than jogging in the autumn – watching your breath whisper in the cool as you sigh at the beautiful countryside in the clear autumn sun, reds, oranges, yellows still mixing with the greens….

There is nothing lovelier than coming home to little boys wanting to throw rugby balls, tennis balls and run around the garden with you.

There is nothing lovelier than an impulse decision to go for lunch and a walk… 2 minute hot steamy showers, grabbing coats and scarves and pocket snacks as we fly out the door…

There is nothing lovelier than the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, rolling lawns, random enormous sculptures made to seem insignificant in the giant spaces, but beautiful, impressive against the blue, blue skies of the North today.

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There is nothing lovelier than seeing your boys race and run, twist and turn, scrap and laugh, clamber and roll… sweaty noses, dirty knees, fishing for pocket treats, asking for ice creams.

There is nothing lovelier than family potato peeling, table laying, Grandparent teasing, clean plates, full bellies… there is nothing lovelier than the first roast ham of the season, nothing lovelier than comfort food.

There is nothing lovelier than hearing the boys read, how well they are doing, hearing how Tom helps his brother recognize words….nothing lovelier than 3 in a bed around one good book.

There is nothing lovelier than a full pot of tea, Sunday TV… and while I am a little melancholy the big man had to leave unexpectedly early, there is nothing lovelier than the realization, I am seeing him on Tuesday, just the 2 of us, our favourite London pub, bottle of red… nothing lovelier.

There is nothing lovelier than going to bed on a Sunday and waking up to brand new week…

Are you ‘Wendy’ enough?

Posted on by Ali Mortimer

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It’s 5pm… and I have a drink. A stiff one. My favourite cocktail thanks to a fab friend – very kitsch, very 80’s… it’s Cointreau, Lime and soda, lots of ice…. If you haven’t tried it… you seriously should. Long and full of vitamin C… it is definitely medicinal.

It is a Friday so surely allowed? It’s a little earlier than my usual weekend drink… but today I think I deserve it! A hot bus for 4 hours with 45, noisy, squeally, excited 7 year olds… Their excitement infectious, but at points I wish I had ear plugs… It was a school trip to ‘The Deep’ in Hull…. A fab day trip out.

The drink is to try and relax my tense shoulders and neck… I was responsible for 6 children, 5 not my own, in the dark, who ran from one station to the next, muddling and mixing and darting into other pools of similar looking children… running up and down ramps, hiding behind pillars…. I didn’t lose any, I hearded them up multiple times and started to use the phrase ‘Team Mortimer’ and like little homing pigeons, they would come back.

What was interesting and intrigued and totally fascinated me today was how I could recognise many of the children by the traits they share with the parent that I have met. And not just their faces, bone structure, eyes or hair… but the way they spoke, the phrases they used, the mannerisms.   Some parents would be so proud of their children.

It made me consider and reflect on the class discussions I had yesterday with my 15 ten year old girls. From totally different backgrounds, cultures, home lives and support networks from the children today. The topic yesterday, was about role models. What did they understand about the term? Who were their role models?

A role model, ‘a person looked to by others as an example to be imitated’.

We talked through many role models from Zoella (who I had not heard of before I few weeks ago, when my local friends with daughters provided me with some good ideas!), Princes Catherine, Jessica Ennis, Mary Berry, JK Rowling to Malala Yousafzai and many more. We discussed the values, behaviours and attitudes of these women, and men too (David Attenborough, Richard Branson) and put post it notes all over our class Role Model ‘Wendy’…

They wrote: kind, helpful, pretty, happy, strong, healthy, inspirational, passionate, committed, fashionable, smiley, believer, caring, listener, never gives up, motivated, creative, honest, giving, loving, generous and spoke the truth.

Once they knew the definition and characteristics of a role model, we asked who their role models were…   answers were parents, grandparents, social workers, their class mates, their brothers, sisters and celebrities I had never heard the names of but who apparently were brilliant according to them, but whom I have subsequently found out have rather unsavoury sides..

So my question to myself – am I the type of role model that my son’s, my nieces, my goddaughters, these girls I stand in front of should imitate?

If we are present in the lives of others, especially those younger, more vulnerable than us, then we owe it to them to be that role model. Be the good person, the committed person, the optimist, the authentic, compassionate as well as passionate, courageous, abundant role model who speaks the truth, acts with kindess and in servitude.

We owe it to the generations to come to be the best versions of ourselves so that our children duplicate us… because they do you know! When you aren’t there, they speak the words you speak, their bodies mimic the way you stand, gesticulate and hold your head. They copy your confidence, your happiness just as much as your fears and tears…

Our behaviour is a silent signal to those around us… and if you are in a role of responsibility, whether that be parent, leader, CEO, boss, manager, bigger brother, sister, that means you. People do what you do, not what you say and especially so when you are not there…..

So am I Wendy?  Are you Wendy?  Can we ever be Wendy enough?  Does Wendy exist in reality?  Who knows…? but if we each strive to be like her, be a better person, commit to being a little better each week, then the ripple effect would be enormous and the world must surely benefit…

Cheers! My Cointreau is dry and I need another!

Diamonds or Dust?

Posted on by Ali Mortimer

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It’s funny… I always worry the night before that I am not going to have anything to say or write about in my blog for the following day. I say to myself… ‘it’s ok – you can just write a line along the lines of… ‘nothing out of the ordinary day, nothing to share, nothing happening….’.. But that doesn’t seem to be my life!

This morning, just after 9am, I was headhunted by a new small consulting firm in London to go and interview to be a Partner to grow their business.

Wow.

Just as I bravely, mentally cut the ties to my old life. Out of the blue. I am flattered. I am scared. I even get butterflies?!

Alarm bells ring! What is this? Is this a test? A flattering temptation or an obstacle to test my determination and decision to lead a new life? A life of peace and tranquility, mindfulness, health, present and presence in my boys’ life (3 of them… husband is always included in reference to ‘boys’)… my new slice of the bread in my career / life path sandwich.

I didn’t ask the universe for this? How did it manifest?! I haven’t updated my Linked-in or online CV in months…

All of this flashes across my mind in the split seconds that I listen to the lovely, complimentary lady on the end of the phone. In my head, I hear James rejoicing! How proud he would be … his wife back in the corporate game… the money! The accolades! But I see, I see clearly the weeks away from home for this is a job and company based in London – 200 miles away from my boys, the pressure, the stress, the unhealthy competition, brown-nosing, selling, the long days and nights, all the reasons why I am moving on.

So if this is a test, I passed it. With flying colours, I politely said that at this point, I couldn’t consider being away from home but thank you for the opportunity.

I ponder… my head tipping this way and that…as I drive to various drop offs… Pressure. An interesting word.

‘’A continual physical force exerted on or against an object by something in contact with it’’.

Or

‘’The use of persuasion or intimidation to make someone do something’’

I think we often see the word ‘pressure’ as having negative connotations. Pressure can lead to stress… stress can lead to cracks and ultimate collapse. Pressure on a person or object. I know that pressure in my corporate life, lead to huge stress, manifesting in poor health, eczema, tiredness, to cracks in my marriage, family life and final collapse of my world as I knew it. Ashes… Dust….. to be swept under the carpet or float away in the wind of change.

Yet today, I put pressure on myself to be healthy, do some form of exercise every day – from light to intense, pilates to spin, dog walk to gym. I have put pressure on myself to finding 30 minutes each busy day to write a daily blog about my life in the sandwich years. I put pressure on myself to grow my health, wellness and wellbeing business, to coach others to success with whatever health or career goal. I put pressure on myself to write the best class plans for my volunteer mentoring, the best speech for when I speak as a guest speaker in schools in the north. And yet this pressure, I thrive under! I am alive! I am happy… I am calm and energetic at the same time. I am being asked to do more, be more… live more!

So pressure can be good… I am reminded of a well known quote ‘ Diamonds are but carbon, until they are put under pressure’.

Be be warned… for there is a fine line between the good and the bad. The choice between Diamonds or Dust?

My experience is that you can do what you think you love to do, generate a big bank balance, but if the pressure is coming from external forces, you can end up lacking wealth or even health.

Or you can dig deep, follow your dreams, find out what it is you want to do … and do it. Do it for free. Do it for the love of doing it. Do it part time until you can do lots of it…   I strongly believe that if you are doing what you love, no matter how much pressure you are under, you will always shine, sparkle, spread your joy. If the pressure comes from within, you will create diamonds.

I love Mondays!

Posted on by Ali Mortimer

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I love Mondays!

I used to HATE Mondays…

Funny how life changes…

In my Accenture days or freelance consultancy days, Mondays meant reeeeeeealllly early starts… to get to wherever the client site was. My worst trip was the one to work for New Look in Weymouth on the South Coast of the UK, when I lived in South London. It consisted of tubes, buses, a train, a change, and a long meandering drive (beautiful if you weren’t in a rush!), hugely frustrating drive behind tractors or caravans as there were so few overtaking places…in a random hire car. Up at the crack of dawn only to arrive by lunchtime to get some terrible food in a meagre canteen above the ‘shed’ as we would fondly refer to the huge warehouse and distribution centre for this up and coming fast fashion retailer.

It was those Mondays that used to eat in to your Sundays… rather than relaxing on the sofa, holding a roast-full-tummy, snoozing to the Antiques Roadshow, I would be restless, dashing around the house packing a suitcase, searching a laptop bag and paperwork that I may have thrown under a bed in disgust… and where the hell was my ‘on call’ phone?! Ugh – that was another hell… the fear of being called in the middle of the night to log into the computer system and work out why an overnight batch schedule had failed.. Black screens, green letters and blinking cursors – I hope I never see you again…. Cold, panic sweats as I used to fear whatever I did would bring a whole warehouse picking team to a stand still, waiting in a cold Weymouth car park at 4am, shaking their fists at me…. ‘the tech geek’, warm in a pink hotel room, under a duvet, laptop open, hair wild with frustration as I look for a bit of false information that has caused the system crash…

I digress… my old life… one I look back on, fondly, with good memories too of working with brilliant, talented minds, big drinkers… it wasn’t all screen time, only 90% of it. The rest was flaming drambuies, tiger tiger, back slapping….

So to the Mondays of my todays…

Instead of a nervous panic searching for lost items, it is more of a game… getting the boys to get their books together, do they have the right sports kit, enough socks, have they learnt their spellings? If not, they soon will…   I use a timer…How quickly can we do it this week? The quicker they do it, the quicker we can watch a family movie, snuggle up… play a board game (their favourite is Monopoloy James Bond 007 – brilliant if you have boys!).

For me, Sundays are the end of a week and a time for reflection. I look forward to waking up at 6, ready to plan the week ahead, start a fresh; out with the old, in with the new – how can we improve this week? Easy this week for me – last week was a write off! So I am re-arranging my cancelled meetings, back to pilates at 6am, back to healthy eating, back to the gym, spin and I may try something new this week? Hot yoga? What will I share with my class on Thurday – the topic is Role Models – what a great subject to research…  What coaching topic shall I share with my team, my leaders that I build businesses with..?

Who will I meet? What will I learn?

Bring it on Monday!

Blackberry picking

Posted on by Ali Mortimer

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Dobby is blocking my conversations with Snow White today. It’s one of those days… he is on my shoulder, in front of my face, relentless.

I feel guilty for eating a curry, for having cake, my jeans feel tight, I haven’t exercised for a week other than a couple of dog walks… I feel unappreciated as I peel potatos, sweet potatos, apples, carrots and make a gluten free crumble. Everything is winding me up – grass all over the kitchen floor from football boots and Timberlands from double rugby this morning…. I can’t remember any time anyone said thank you or made me feel valued or loved… I am sick of having a cold. Frustrated by inertia.

I am torn.

Torn between letting my emotions out and throwing cushions, having a trantrum or a cry… or just growing up and getting on with it. Jobs to be done, Sunday roast to be cooked, rugby kit to be washed, homework to be done… blackberries to be picked.

I pick blackberries… it makes me a little melancholy as I am reminded of the boxes of blackberries I picked with my Mum this time last year…  I wonder how she is?  Dad took in some shampoo and her favourite tea yesterday, I do hope they have washed her … given her a cup of Earl Grey with lemon.

….

I make a wise decision. I put on my earphones and hit the play button to listen to Oprah.

Wherever I had left off before, started with the right chapter, for sure. She talks about her interviews with men who all had affairs, despite their strong loyal ethics. They all had a common theme – they all wanted to be heard, valued, appreciated, listened to… to feel loved.

Isn’t that what everyone wants? The feeling bit anyway – the feeling of being loved and appreciated…

She makes an interesting point – we shouldn’t wait for others to make us feel this way… We need to feel this for ourselves first…. Value ourselves, love ourselves, appreciate what and who we are first…   For then we aren’t reliant on others to feel good, happy. Look inward and work out what is good about ourselves and our lives… Use gratitude as a way of recognizing how lucky, how brilliant, how wonderful we and are lives are.

How did I forget that today? Since reading The Magic last year, gratitude has played a major part of my daily routine – either in the morning or last thing before I got to bed.

How grateful am I to have gorgeous, healthy sons, a kind and generous husband, a beautiful, warm, spacious Yorkshire stone converted barn to live in with all the mod cons (soooo grateful for my washing machine and tumble dryer – imagine doing all that washing by hand?!). How thankful for a lie in this morning, a hand delivered cup of morning tea, a proud 90 minutes on the sidelines watching the boys play rugby and score tries…more than the England team did last night!. Talking of which, gratitude for good friends as neigbours who bring delicious puddings and beers….

Gratitude for Oprah, for itunes and audiobooks to get me back on the happy path and out of the pity party.

So now it’s back to the aga – my in-laws arrive home in a couple of hours, the pork needs to go in and the topping on the crumble needs spreading…. But first, I think I will gather my family for one of our favourite Sunday past-times – a family cuddle on the sofa!

Tale of two hospitals….

Posted on by Ali Mortimer

Does anyone have a week in which absolutely nothing goes as planned? Nothing? (Well my mentoring did – so that’s a white lie!)

I was so looking forward to this week – lots of meetings, coffee dates, gym, spin and appointments, dinner with friends… But I spent 3 days just managing to get the boys to school and sleeping for my usually productive hours. Illness or emotion getting the better of me…
And today – the first day I feel less achy, have more gumption, managed to get up for my Pilates and even had enough energy to take the dog for walk… I get a call from school saying that Willy is unusually unhappy with severe stomach pains. He hasn’t had gluten and he hasn’t been sick. But he is clearly distressed and doubled in pain…. So we sit in the doctors, with my mind wandering from trapped wind to appendicitis.. 
The doctor is stumped… Willy is clearly in pain but can’t explain it. He says it could go either way – stop suddenly or deteriorate rapidly. Perplexed… Considering his options… And Willy suddenly deteriorates, writhing in pain… Little face red and crying.. So unlike my happy little mouse. 
Decision made… He starts to ring the hospital… I tell him firmly under no circumstances will I go back to the hospital who took 3 months to misdiagnose Willy with reflux and then rush him to have open stomach surgery. He puts the phone down and asks me where I would go! It may have longer waiting times and I may not get a nice cup of tea and a carpet but at least I will have faith in the diagnosis.
So I am dressed in my dog walking kit, no make up, hair a mess… How long am I going to be? Do I nip home for snacks, a shower, change and look respectable? One look at willy and I know that is unreasonable… Leeds will have to take me as I am…. 
That was at 11 am… 
It is now 15.43…. We are still here.
Willy was so brave – wards are scary in Leeds. No position was comfy and he did his flappy bird impression, creased up little face pleading at me…. Heart wrenching as a parent and you would do anything to take the pain. I keep calm and pray, visualise a miraculous recovery, a hearty trump.. Anything but the thought of surgery on my little man… It made me weak at the knees 5 years ago and I know it will have the same effect even now.
Willy calms and lies in the one position he finds relief. And 30 minutes later he looks up and asks to go home…. He feels better. I didn’t hear a trump. 
Is this a miracle?  
He has been playing nicely and I have asked to leave but we can’t go! The surgeon has to feel his tummy and discharge us… Even though the bugs going round could be the answer, it could be appendicitis or grumbling appendix… We have to wait.
Willy and I don’t do well without food. Breakfast at 7 feels a long time ago.
I commend the NHS… It is Friday. So many poorly poorly children, babies. The place is over spilling.. But we have no idea where we are on a list – others arriving after us are seen first… Others seemingly worse are also still here. Communication is seriously lacking… The nurses can’t answer my questions, as lovely and kind as they are.
There are parallels with the NHS mental hospital behind whose iron bars my mum is hidden… My dad is still unable to find answers about the plans for my mum, how long will she be observed, when will they try new drugs, what drugs, is the plan for her to leave … When can we ring, who should we speak to, who is looking after her, what has she eaten… When did she last have a bath? No one can tell us…. 
I am incredibly grateful for the NHS and the wonderful service they provide and I know how hard everyone works, having great friends as consultants, consultant surgeons, anaesthetists, doctors and nurses, OT’s… Even overworked.. 
I would be really, overly grateful if someone could just come and tell me if Willy can eat something, drink something, if we can go home…