Late last year I wasn’t so well. I managed to develop gastritis, somehow. A bout of medication cleared it up, but the doctor warned me to take things easy.

Not an easily stressed person, I like to be busy. I tend to take on what others consider too much, and sometimes I feel it myself. Generally, though,  I don’t.

For the next five months I will still be off work on parental leave. For years and years after that I won’t have the chance to be master of my own time as much as I am now. So I have decided to use my time wisely.

But this time wisely doesn’t equate to packing in as much as I can. Wisely means taking time to do more relaxing – with my family, with my friends or alone. I’m learning to squeeze in pockets of me time where I can.

This week has seen me giving in to the coluring books for grown ups fad. (I don’t like the term adult colouring book. It sounds a bit dodgy, like colouring in the Kamasutra). It came about by chance. My sister, wonderful gift-giver that she is, gave me a present of a subscription to Irish Country Magazine for my birthday. Each issue has a colouring page at the back. I loved the idea when I first saw it and meant to give it ago.

Snatching a few minutes of time here and there to colour was lovely. It was time I would usually have used to wipe the table, browse Twitter or clear up some mess or other.

Spending a little bit of time considering colour and pattern instead was a welcome change. The house didn’t fall apart, the children weren’t neglected, all the important stuff got done.

This month I finally did it! I had to borrow the children’s markers. I was limited in my choice of colours because the boys are not too great at putting the lid back on properly. I may have to play them that clip from Friends. You know the one. If ever proof was needed that I am not Monica, the fact that most markers in out house are dried out and lid-less is it.

But questions were asked.

“What (in the name of God) are you doing?” asked The Bavarian as I sat in our big armchair and coloured while he watched TV.

“Mammy why are you colouring?”asked Number Two while he played and I sat at the playroom craft table, colouring.

“Can I have a go?” was inevitable of course, Mammy’s colouring book being so much more interesting that any of the tons of ones the children have, untouched.

Since finishing the colouring page last night, I have been dying to get started on another. But first I’m treating myself to some nice felt tip pens.