What happened when... I joined a fitness class

Long-term readers and good friends will know that, given the choice, I'll always choose a good book and cup of tea over strenuous exercise or sport.

Before falling pregnant with Lily, and all the uncertainty I faced in those early days, I loved going to Zumba classes. They were fun but I still felt like I'd burned calories. It didn't matter that I can't dance. I just gave it my best shot and I was pleased with the results - not just in my fitness and how I looked but how I felt in myself. 

That rush of endorphins when you take part in exercise that you enjoy. 

Even if I was miserable at the start of the session, I was always happy at the end.

A quarter-life crisis?!

I sit here wondering if I am the only person working in a school who wishes it wasn't half term right now.

As the break approached everyone I work with was looking forward to a holiday but all I could think about was a disruption to routine and endless days with my kids.

Which makes me sound like a pretty shit mother really.

Shouldn't I want to spend every single second of every single day savouring their childhood?

One day I'll wake up and they'll be grown. And I'll miss these times.

It's not even that they're misbehaving.

It's not that I don't love them.

It's not that I don't want to spend as much time with them as possible.

I just don't want to spend time with me.

The real me who is boring, frumpy, grumpy (thanks for that suggestion, auto-correct) and depressing.

I want to step out of my life right now, just for a few days and have a real break. Not just from work but from everything. From being a mum, a wife, a colleague. From being myself. from my history and my future.