Welcome to Mam Mojo in Motion, a monthly blog series from a caffeine-fuelled creative spirit, recovering procrastinator and very tired mam of four, including (almost) 18-month-old twins. Each month, I chart my attempts to reclaim body, brain and creative buzz in small, wobbly steps. This isn't a health and fitness blog (chance would be a fine thing). Part accountability diary, part family chaos confessional, part creative boost. Think less transformation, more survival with sparkles. Let’s move.
“Relaxing holiday in Cornwall,” they said. “Far less stressful than taking a family of six, including 17-month-old twins, a 7-year-old ADHD firecracker, and a socially anxious 19-year-old daughter with autism, on a plane,” they said.
Hmm.
Thing is, we did do a long-haul holiday last year. A three-week trip to a tropical island in China to see my wife's family. With six-month-old twins. Gulp! A once-in-a-lifetime adventure, full of memories… and moments that made us (at times) question all our life choices. It was epic, exhausting and extraordinary. And surprisingly, despite the hiccups along the way, fairly stress-free, but not something I was in a rush to repeat with 17-month-olds.
So this year? Static caravan in Cornwall. Grounded. Sensible. Relaxing?
HA!
I was spent. My wife was a zombie. Neither with any fuel in the tank. This holiday was desperately needed and I was determined I wasn't towing the caravan all the way to Newquay, so static caravan it was. And we decided to take the electric car. I could pretend that was for the planet, or because our Ford Galaxy is a gas-guzzler, but truth be told, the UK was having a random heatwave and the Ford’s air con has long since given up the ghost. So we braved it with the EV.
"We'll charge on the way, it'll be fine."
Famous last words.
The first services we stopped at had a max headroom limit and we’d brought our brand-new soft rooftop box. Couldn’t fit. So we tried the overflow car park. No EV chargers. Of course not. I dropped everyone off at the entrance for a comfort break while I circled the car park three times (each time ending up back on the main road and almost on the motorway).
Cue 15% battery warning. Living on the edge! Adrenaline = activated.
Packing win #1: Me, up a ladder, jamming everything but the kitchen sink into that rooftop box like a domestic Spider-Woman. Tetris, eat your heart out. It was part problem-solving, part Olympic sport. I’ve got the knuckle scuffs and pulled back to prove it.
Holiday win #1: Managing Baby Bear in the pool. He refused to go in his float ring but was genuinely confused why I wouldn’t just let go. Cue me juggling a wet, furious eel for 30 minutes. Then I hit the rapids with our eldest son, where I swished round so fast I pulled a muscle in my bum. Worth it.
Other parenting medals earned for taking it in turns with my wife to trundle up to the water slides (twice) with same son (who chickened out both times). I went on anyway. Also squeezed in a couple of cheeky almost widths after my wife and eldest daughter took the babies out. I'd call this a soft workout for sure.
Day two = Eden Project. Gorgeous. Also five hours of walking (at least half of it uphill). And because I remembered it being roasting inside the biomes (from 20 years ago), I insisted on shorts for everyone. What I hadn’t accounted for? The 900+ metre walk from the car park to the domes… in a full-on downpour. No coats. No umbrellas. No rain covers for the pushchair.
Oops.
We did recover with ice cream and I had a guilt-free cider later that evening. Self-care.
EV drama, part deux: I thought I’d been clever plugging in at Eden. But I hadn’t tapped my card first. Rookie mistake. Car stayed parked all day… and didn’t charge. We crawled back to the site on fumes, tried to charge there but didn’t have the right adapter. Had to limp to the nearest garage on 11%. Cue another Vanilla Latte of Relief. And crisps (lower calorie, rather than the Monster Munch I fancied). Obvs.
Day 3 = a delicious street food dinner that evening: curry, loaded fries and a pint. Balanced out by another energetic pool session earlier that day. Juggled the eel again, played ‘Humpty Dumpty’ (lift him up, jump him in) three times, and convinced my older son to try the green slide. He did once with me and loved it. We did it three times then separately. I even managed another cheeky swim in when I got bored queuing for the slides.
Night entertainment? Mainly consisted of me chasing Baby Bear round the dance floor, catching him like a parent ninja every five seconds to prevent collisions with strangers and general carnage. He was absolutely living his best life.
Clifftop exploration day: Clifftop exploration day: We wandered the cliff paths at Land’s End and did not fall off the end of the UK. Parenting win. I also braved the red slide (very fast, less than eight seconds long), gave myself almost-whiplash and then dragged my son to the outdoor pool straight after… only to find he was too cold, so we only lasted 20 minutes. I still managed to swim non-stop in that time though. Small wins.
Final pool day = final flurry of motion: Another cheeky swim, another lap of the rapids (no muscle pull this time), green slide again, and even braved the blue rubber ring slide, which I didn’t get stuck in at the bottom (nor did my bottom get stuck in it at any point). Win win.
We were completely shattered and battered by the end. I even did the rooftop box again without scraping my hands. Growth. Need a holiday after the holiday now though.
Today’s Quickie (not what you think)
Wrestling Baby Bear at The Minack Theatre, a literal cliff-side amphitheatre. Buggies banned, twins in arms. I juggled wriggly toddlers on steep steps for an hour, fended off tantrums and did not fall off the edge. That’s a full-body workout and a parenting PB in one.
Mam Mojo is still moving… just slowly, with tired knees and a caffeine dependency.
See you next time for more movement, more mayhem and maybe a lie down.
Creative Win (Because Why Not?)
Somewhere between eel juggling, EV fails and wrestling Baby Bear on a cliff, I also found time — between my youngest daughter’s newly discovered insomnia parties — to write not one, but two poems.
I also started putting some of my old theories into song form. Old lyrics with new ideas. Songwriting muscles being cautiously flexed again.
Here’s one I penned on July 19th, fuelled by crusts, caffeine and chaos:
Running on Fumes
© Clary Saddler, July 19th 2025
Verse 1
Costa’s a must
Vanilla latte buys trust
Didn’t have time for breakkie
So wolfed the babies’ crust
Already running late
Should’ve left by eight
Toddler grime on my shoulder
Only clocked at the school gate
Chorus
Got work in Bristol at ten
But car’s running on fumes
Bloody gauge on the blink again
M5’s a crawl, might conk out soon
Verse 2
A kick and a scream
I’m living the dream
Managed to eat by midnight
So the heartburn’s extreme
Football’s come round fast
Watched my son miss a pass
I’m sleeping standing up
No brolly (bugger) — what’s the forecast?
Chorus
Must submit this grant by ten
But I’m running on fumes
Laptop’s blinking red again
Phone on 3% — will conk out soon
Bridge
Another medic appointment for kids and wife (uh, what about me?)
That small lump in my groin I’ve noticed twice — could be a pea
Need to ring the surgery by eight
Yay, I got through!
Queue position: number forty-two
“Oh, no more appointments” — woo-bloody-hoo
Not paying private, I'm way too frugal
Oh well, guess I'll just ask Dr Google
Chorus
Need baby girl to nod off before ten
We’re all running on fumes
My stress levels are blinking red again
Mojo’s on 3% — will deffo conk out soon
(Spoken, weary)
Mic nap: Will conk out...
After I finish the dishes. And the grant. And the bedtime story. And—
[snoring sound]
All images taken from Pixaby
Thanks for reading this month’s dose of mayhem and motion. If you’ve ever pulled a muscle in your bum at a waterpark, packed a rooftop box like your life depended on it, or written a poem on three hours’ sleep and toast crusts — solidarity.
Until next time, may your caffeine be strong, your toddlers be tired, and your mojo keep moving (even if it’s more of a shuffle), it all counts.
Clary x