All posts filed under: Being a Mum

This Woman’s Worth

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I am the daughter of a working-class housewife and a middle-class small business owner. I was born in the 70s and grew up to believe that hard work for fair pay was as much a woman’s right as it was a man’s. I worked hard at school and didn’t question progressing to university. My first job was, at age 11, delivering newspapers to half the village before school five days a week, for which I was paid £5. I progressed to waitressing at the village pub and revelled in spending my hard-earned cash at the Metro Centre twice a year. I think I was one of the last cohorts who enjoyed a free higher education and graduated with a small overdraft that I bounced in and out of as I stepped into a career. I didn’t go home after I was 18, so I always had a job, or two, to pay the bills. In fact, since I was a papergirl there has only been one year when I haven’t earned money. That was the …

A Quiet Mind, Who Can Find?

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One of the things I struggled with the most when we lived in New Zealand—and this is going to sound crazy—is life being so easy. I know, what a ridiculous thing to say. It’s true though. I don’t mean that we spent our days sipping cocktails, staring at beautiful views without a care in the world. Actually that last bit does come close to what I mean. You are so far away from the rest of the world on this beautiful, hardly populated island, safe and secure, that you don’t have to worry about the rest of the world. Yes, the bills are high, you still have to do maintenance on your house, teenagers are hard to live with wherever you are, but the things you have to care about are only in your world. Other people’s worlds rarely interrupt your day. Right now, I wonder how I thought that was such a bad thing as I feel like I am drowning in cares and woes. Our dog has developed some kind of cyclical diarrhoea …

Choosing the way to go

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There are many ways to leave life, starving myself to death is not the way I want to go and I decided that when I was 19. When I was 15, I began losing weight. It was easy. I was already really into sport, playing hockey and netball, running, cycling and anything else that was competitive. Gradually, and without a plan, I started cutting out food that had fat in it. I began saying I didn’t like chocolate and only eating sweets that were full of sugar but has the all important ‘Trace’ next to fat on the nutrition label. I whittled my breakfast down to one slice of toast which would be tossed aside as I ran for the bus. I spent my lunch money on sweets and magazines, and avoided the lunch hall by running around the sports field for half an hour. I am not sure how long it took, I think maybe a year but certainly by the time I was in my A’level years, I was in the habit of …

Coming along for the ride

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The first time we emigrated to New Zealand, we were a family with a nine-month-old and two-year-old. Those babies were an extension of us and apart from the 36-hour flight, which was either sleeping or non-stop Peppa Pig, nothing really changed for them because their whole world was us. It was easy; we move and they come with us. Even when we moved them at five and seven and then again at seven and eight (my maths is fine here, they are 18 months apart so depending on what month it is, they are one or two years apart), it was relatively simple. Yes they had to say goodbye to friends, family and familiar things, but at those ages, as long as you have Mum and Dad behind you, you’re brave enough for anything. The biggest challenge I remember were when we came back to the UK in 2017 was being introduced to the school zoning system and having to literally argue our case to the local authority so both children could go to the …

When it’s not your job

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Having a job is a big part of emigrating. In fact, it’s necessary if you want to stay. Our motivation to move to New Zealand in the first place was to bring our children up somewhere beautiful and wholesome and we wanted an adventure. Thankfully, Gareth worked for a global engineering company that could facilitate that. Due to a natural disaster, the job became much more than a way to get a visa. It was an opportunity to pursue his career, using his skills (and gaining lots more) whilst working within a team of highly motivated and inspiring colleagues to literally rebuild a city after devastating earthquakes had flattened it. A job that makes a difference, how satisfying is that. Five years later, we moved back to the UK because Gareth’s dad was sick and at the same time he found that out, his company offered him an opportunity to work on a big, ambitious project. The third emigration was because we didn’t feel like we were done with New Zealand and wanted to go …

I will always love you

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Dear Child of Mine I want you to know that I will always love you. I loved you when you were the size of a grain of rice and your heart beat was undetectable. When you made me sick and took away my ability to tie my own shoe laces. The strongest motivator to go through two days of the most pain I have ever felt was you. We hadn’t even met but I would have endured that pain for as long as it took to bring you into this world. When you screamed at me for hours and refused to give me sleep, I loved you in every sob and exhausted scrap left of my being. When your head was adorned with delicate, golden curls or when you scowled with the flick of one eyebrow, I swooned at your beauty. You could be covered in snot and vomit and I still think you are the most lovely thing I have ever seen. When you pulled my trousers down in the middle of a busy …

Happy Women’s Day to my women

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As I scrolled through Instagram this morning, it seemed that there was an usually large amount of love going out to women on my feed. It took a moment to register as to be fair, in the current climate there is generally at least two or three ‘strong women lift each other up’ type posts every day. Today it’s almost constant, occasionally interrupted by a pretty plate of food  (I love me some #foodies). It is of course International Women’s Day. It’s prompted me to think about the women in my life and I realise that there have been, are and will be a HUGE amount of significant women in my life. What better way to celebrate than say thank you. To the most important woman in my life, who is yet to be a woman, my daughter. Thank you for being the little embryo that could. For giving me hope when I was at my most hopeless. You could forget every Mother’s Day and I will still be indebted to you for making me …

Dear Joe Wicks (again)

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I am very pleased to report that I graduated from Cycle Two last week and today is my first day on Cycle Three of your 90 Day SSS Plan. I have to say, it does feel good to be over halfway. It’s been such a positive experience for me. I guess it’s a good sign then, that I am beginning to feel like I have learnt enough and it would be quite nice to test my wings, and see if I can fly this balanced-diet-with-focussed-exercise journey alone. That said, I do like to finish things that I start and after a weekend of letting myself off the hook a little, I am ready to be a good student and work to plan for a final 30 days.  This takes me, rather inconveniently, to the 2nd January. Nothing like increasing the challenge tenfold by doing the final cycle through the Christmas season eh! It’s OK though. Don’t panic, I have a plan. One thing I have learnt so far is that calculated “blow outs” are no …

Freelance Re-visited

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I first became a freelancer when I was 30.  After graduating with a languages degree in 1999, I had spent the rest of my twenties working for various companies and charities in Liverpool. It was a considered career move, something I wanted to do and I took my time to be ready to take the leap. At the time, it felt really scary, almost reckless. With hindsight, I can see that it was the best time to go for it.  My husband had just been employed by a big, global company, which gave us at least one secure income.  We didn’t have any children, so I could pour my all into the work and my availability to clients was 24/7. Having worked in Liverpool for almost a decade, I had contacts to approach for possible work. It was a great experience for me.  To begin with, I had lots of little pieces of work.  A fundraising job from an old employer, book keeping for a friend’s business, a monthly event to manage through another friend …

Would I have been a better mother in the 70’s?

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Our children are six and seven years old. Both are at school. They can use forks. Conversation with them is coherent and interesting, sometimes illuminating and educational. One of them can wipe their bum, the other still prefers to let others take care of that.  Our family can walk 5km in about an hour. At least once a week, they make their breakfast without setting off the smoke alarm. OK, that’s cereal day. We are officially parents of children: no babies, no toddlers. Quite often, either Gareth or I will turn to the other and say these words; “I would never have talked to my parents like our children do to us.” This is often followed by a frustrated debate about why our children can be so disrespectful. Gareth leans towards our children being punks, I lean towards our skills being deficient. We settle on, maybe we’re being punk’d? I could be paranoid but I get the feeling that our parent’s generation is quietly wondering what all the fuss is about. Why do mum’s get …