Single Parent

Blue January …

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January 21 2023

Gosh; is anyone else struggling with January? Setting off for work at 7am and returning around 6pm, I feel as if I live in darkness at the moment. So this morning’s run, in the glorious, snowy sunshine is a real pick-me-up. But, aside from ‘living for the weekend‘, if only to see daylight, are there any other tips for getting through the dreary 31 days that start each year?

Much is written about poor old January. An entry entitled ‘Why is January depressing?‘ for the Foundations Wellness Center by Justin Baksh on 2 January 2022, claims that,

It is often said that January – dubbed “the Monday of months” – is the most depressing month of the year.

And many of us would resonate with a catalogue of reasons why: end of the holiday season, dismal weather and mounting debt. It is, I read, scientifically proven that shorter daylight hours and lack of sunlight do lead to SAD (seasonal affective disorder) which can play havoc with our body clocks and reduce energy and motivation. Possibly this is why the cheery resolutions of New Year’s Day can so often wither away as we battle against sluggish despondency?

Psychologist Cliff Arnall, even hit the headlines in 2004 with a proposed formula for low mood! I think he has since admitted that this was a partial publicity stunt plus a mathematics model for mood feels unlikely, nonetheless, you cannot argue with the list of variables that definitely do contribute to the misery of our much-maligned opening month of the year.

So what can we do about it?

Canadian blogger ‘Mommy Kat and Kids‘ promotes self -care and ‘sit and soak‘ is her number one tip. Kat espouses the merits of a candle-lit bath and I can vouch for this one in a slightly different guise as, after months of inactivity, I fire up the hot tub on Friday night and have a fantastic evening in there with a friend.

The joy of a hot tub, which is not often mentioned, is that it is wonderful way to enjoy the great British outdoors, because as you sink into the deliciously depths of the steamy water, you are actually warm and can just relish the peace and stillness of beautiful winter’s evening. It is great for conversation, relaxation, shaking off the working week and having fun!

So folks; if you’ve a hot tub; hop in. Or get running those bathtubs and basking in bubbles with candles, music … and escape the wintry chills!

Cygnet Health Care list ‘keep fit and stay active‘ as tip number three. I must concur with this one too; I am loving my January running. I do actually like to exercise in the cold, running on a hot day is my nemesis and, as the icing on the cake, I got blue tooth earphones for Christmas so I am now pounding the pavements to the beat of my favourite rousing anthems! For an hour each Saturday, it has become my definition of ‘happy’.

And few of us would argue with the benefits of being active. So when we’re lucky enough to see a glimmer or sunlight, pull on the trainers or enjoy the beauty of a snowy walk. In grimmer weather, and let’s face it, we’ve had a lot, blogger Kat recommends digging out your yoga mats. Worth a try… again if only to warm up!

So mostly, but not all about the weekend? I’ve now got the suggestion of a bit of downward dog and a midweek bath to brighten up a January evening! Alongside the delights of Friday nights and the rare glimpses of daylight that Saturday and Sunday bring, will this be enough to sustain me through the gloomy grind of the working week? I fear not. And I’ve yet to mention the desperate need for a pay day! Whose idea was it to put two 31 day months back to back at the most expensive time of the year? Not a parent I’ll wager. Sheer insanity!

On the bright side… we are over half way through! Nonetheless, please hurry up February…

Erst…

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Saturday 17 December 2022

Erst it may well be a popular trendy restaurant in the Ancoats area of Manchester, but it is also the German word for ‘first’ and, on the first day of my Christmas holiday, it is a wonderful place to be taken for lunch. It’s also another beginning for me…I am out on a ‘first date’…eek!

So, to the restaurant!

The food is ‘small plates designed for sharing’ and it is delicious. Each individual dish is a treat but put them together and, oh my goodness, it is a taste sensation. We need a bit of help and the waitress is fantastic, advising of number of plates and recommending the ‘spectacular’ walnut flat bread, which is divine. To wash it all down, we choose a bottle of vin naturel and 1 o’ clock quickly becomes 2 o’clock and then 3. Fabulous company and fabulous ambience. The stresses and strains of a busy term and the worries of family life just melt away and I open the door to holiday, relaxation and the chance to have some fun.

Indeed; such as good time is had that we decide to move onto a bar …which gets a little messier with some very strong cocktails. ‘Galway girl‘, a potent mix of Limoncello and prosecco probably, is my downfall. But hey -ho… holidays are here! Even a hard working single parent is allowed to let her hair down every now and again?

I certainly come back to earth with a bump at the tram stop home where, with unbelievable timing, I run into Small Boy with not one, not two but about ten of his friends, all heading out for the night. He tells me later that I was unmistakably merry but seems to find it all quite funny.

Next morning, I find that in my cocktail-confused state, I have tapped in and out with so many different cards on the metro that my journey has proved quite a pricey one! I contact TfGM pleading ‘ an honest is utterly stupid mistake‘ and wait to see if they show mercy and refund some of my payments!

Even this aside, I certainly feel ready for the holidays with work most definitely off the agenda for a couple of weeks. As for my date; well it’s early days and I rarely share romantically on my blog … but could this be the ‘erst of many’?

We all get wider…

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Friday 18 November 2022

This week, I concede that none of us can stop the march of time….

Its all begins back in August, with the arrival of my niece’s wedding invitation,

“Dress code: black tie”

My offspring all hit the shops, finding finery and sharp suits that will also be worn for uni balls and (for Small boy) musician gigs. But for their old single mum…gosh it’s a good few years since I needed anything quite so formal! In fact I have to go as far back as my former (slightly more) glamorous life as a married woman, when ex-hub’s job occasionally afforded the occasion for a posh-frock.

“Hang on a tick” I cry, “I think the odd outfit may still be (gathering dust) in the wardrobe!”

And indeed two of them are, both, to shamelessly name drop, worn originally for royal occasions! One is brown and one … ahh one is a sumptuous green velvet number with a scalloped neckline and fitted floor length elegance!With great excitement I try it on and fall instantly in love with the gorgeous thing again. There is just one little snag….the zip refuses to proceed past my waist!

But ‘it’s only August’ think I! The wedding is months away and I resolve to trim back into a dress I previously wore in the previous millennium (and before children were even thought of.) I resolve to rediscover the body I had 25 years ago.

So, I run, I stretch and I scrunch. I spurn delicious buttered break-time toast, toil through the working day fuelled only by miserable sachets of cup-a-soup and track each morsel on a calorie checker app! Alas, none of it makes even an ounce of difference. So when I am out for a drink with an engineering friend, recounting my lack of progress, and he offers to ‘construct me’ back into the garment, I decide, after laughing fully out loud, that enough is quite enough. It is simply never going to happen! The figure I was in my late 20s just has to be consigned to the history books.

Is it of some comfort to read that the struggle to shift a few pounds for other women ‘of my age’ is a fairly common one? Why yes it is! Much is written on the subject and Everyday Health’s article ‘5 reasons its harder to lose weight with age‘ it typical in outlining: age-related muscle loss, hormonal changes, slowing metabolism, general busyness and lifestyle changes as key factors. I am also cheered by some findings too that a ‘bigger butt’ is also caused by widening pelvic bones. In summary, with a mixture of rueful regret and a fair dose of relief, I reason that accepting a changing shape is just all part of growing old gracefully.

So tonight, I have a final Friday night strut around the kitchen in my lovely green dress (clipped in with washing line pegs) before packing it away to donate to the local hospice. I also review the brown number, bought a good 10 years after the green and a hopeful dress size larger. It may not be quite as glamorous or ‘show stopping’, it may be the colour of my old school uniform, but it is still very nice, allows me to move, has a nice swirly skirt, ticks a re-use recycle box (I’ll possibly announce it as ‘vintage’ to sound a little more fashionable) and … it fastens! So bravo for the brown and wedding here we come…

Getting life in perspective …

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Sunday 23 October 2022

My mum has her first surgery and comes home to recover. It is not the end of the story. Hey this is the big C, is it ever going to be the end of the story? But for now; just right now, before Tuesday’s hospital visit and next Monday’s operation results, the cloud that has defined the last few weeks lifts and I feel… happy!

Yes, not just ‘okay‘, the luke-warm version of wellbeing I often settle for, but actually properly happy. My mind is only lightness, my mood upbeat, and all the little things in life seem joyful.

I do nothing special with the weekend. On Saturday, I run with my run buddy. Small boy and I hang out in the garden hot tub, putting the world to rights. I cook curry for my mum and drink some (appalling) fizz a work colleague gave me mid-week. On Sunday, we take the tram into town to shop Dinner Jackets for a family wedding, mooch around the music stores and browse the book shops. The Squares are decorated with dainty Halloween lanterns. We dine on Pad Thai noodles, steak sandwiches and terrible pies and … it feels fantastic!

I guess it’s relief, a welcome respite from the stress and worry of the previous weeks. Or possibly one of those profound pauses in life when you (momentarily alas) cast aside the trivia that often takes up so much our time and focus instead on the things, and most importantly, the people who really matter. ‘Getting life in perspective’, I think it’s called. Well for however long it lasts…I am going to enjoy it…

Whose job is it to correct my kids manners?

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Friday 23 September 2022

Now just to be crystal clear, I am in no way suggesting that no-one else can ever challenge my offsprings’ behaviour. No, I am concerned with one scenario only, that being when I am actually there … even in my own home! Surely, oh surely; that is my domain?

I certainly thought so, a kind of unwritten rule of inter-parental respect, and, hence, on 12 August when I hear the topic raised by journalist Nina Warhurst on radio 5, I am quickly cheering her on.

“In my opinion” she posits, “if a parent is present then it is no-one else’s job to tell a kid off“

“Spot on Nina” I contribute on Twitter. The nation, however, is more divided. Endless contributors call, text and tweet-in to assert their right to, (surely the only word for this is) ‘interfere‘ if they spot a minor out-and-about with their family who dares to drop a P and Q or, heaven forbid, leaves an elbow resting on a table! The self-appointed etiquette police are passionate, casting themselves as the gallant guardians of British values and the very fabric of our society.

So I am aware that not everyone is with me on this issue however, here is why this single mum would, politely, like you to ‘butt out‘ if you’re in my home or see me with my family and think you can improve our behaviour or manners.

My family unit is close knit one. I’m likely to be biased but I really do find my children remarkable, resourceful … and very kind. And I love this. I am also not afraid to admit that in our world these values are often prized far more highly than etiquette. When for example I arrive home exhausted to find that one of the trio has made tea and tidied the house as a treat, my heart overflows. And do you know what, if someone then eats with their elbows on the table I am absolutely going to ignore it . Because I don’t want to mar the moment with this relatively trivial nonsense.

On the memorable day, back in 2017, when I forgot to leave work to collect Smallboy from the year 7 pantomime and he set off home alone, in the December dark and rain, his young sisters had to set out to find him. We were all so overjoyed to finally see his tiny, bedraggled figure heading up the hill, that we did celebrate by eating in the lounge with our feet on the coffee table and … even phones out! In essence, my kids are a well behaved and acceptably well-mannered lot but every now and again the moment is not about manners.

Additionally, I would just never dream of commenting on other children’s manners either whether their parents are present or not. Let’s take a trip down memory lane to parties and sleepovers. I have not been afraid to set a standards on ‘going to sleep’ and have been known to burst into the room, at 3am, demanding that sleepover rebels (usually led my one of my own brood) ‘cut the noise and get off to sleep‘. And of course, I have stepped in when there is a threat to safety; on the occasion, for example, I awoke to the horror of an 8-year old Smallboy and his sleep-over friends, jumping from successively higher steps on the staircase into the hall, I stopped it on the spot! But table manners and standards of politeness … no, not ever!

‘Why not?‘ I hear you cry. For me, the better question would be ‘Why? Most of the time, I wouldn’t have even noticed, I always saw a child and friend, not a checklist of dos and don’ts. Even if I did, I have no idea why a young person might not be saying ‘thank you‘ as I serve the party tea. They could be too terrified to speak to ‘someone else’s mum’. They might be taking their cues for behaviour from the party host and, if your children are like mine, when little they tended to verge on the unbearable, whenever friends came to stay! But above all, it is simply not my place and it is not the time. Nobody has sent their children to my house for a lesson in etiquette; they have come to have fun!

It was a source of tension when I was still married, for my ex- in-laws are true devotees of the etiquette handbook – even elbows on the table at Maccies is frowned upon! I am no longer there to endure this, but upon their return from a recent trip with ex hub, I recall a furious Prom dress daughter recounting the tale of her brother being made to sit down, write out and recite 10 table manners every morning before he was allowed to join in any holiday activities … which I found sad. Because he hadn’t packed his little suitcase and gone on the trip for this, he’d just wanted to spend some time with his dad. But hey, ex-hub’s domain and his values!

But they are not mine! I know that for many ‘manners maketh man‘ but it is ‘morals that maketh this mum’ and that’s a flag I am sticking with! So whilst I respect that not all agree, I am unshakeable in my belief that in my home or if I am present, I do know best because I know my children best. If someone is in my house, steeping in to ‘help out’ and correct my offspring’s manners or behaviour, however well intentioned, they need to hear that it does not feel supportive it feels presumptuous and judgemental.

When I do need help, because we always do on occasion, I will ask for it. Until then, ‘No thank you!’…

When fortunes are not written in the stars …

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17 September 2022

Horoscopes; I don’t know many who really believe them but I know lots of people, myself included, who read them! If you’re like me, they make a quick, fun, scroll item with a morning cuppa on the rare occasions when you have the time to wonder what the day might bring.

And so it is that this morning I am greeted by this exciting news…

“You could feel like a millionaire today, Pisces. Money matters seem to surpass your expectations. You might want to spend time fixing up your home or perhaps shopping for yourself..

Well, even general cost of living challenges aside, after the recent run of luck I’ve had, this is so far from the truth that I nearly splutter my tea across the table! So come with me astrologers, as I recount the ‘money matters’ of this particular Piscean…

First my car; poor old Windsor! Transporting me to the rehearsal for a local music festival, my trusty Toyota find himself reversed painfully into a post. Main light smashed, bumper crunched and several hundred pounds needed to restore his rear end to its former glory.

Hot on the heels of his trip to the body work garage, Windsor is soon in the woes again. The engine management light glows yellow. A very nice RAC person comes around to the house and diagnoses a possible fault with the GDPR … or is that the EGR valve. I google the likely cost, gulp in panic and when the light thereafter goes off, hold my breath, cross everything and have been tentatively driving about, hoping for the best, ever since.

Thirdly we turn to Small boy. He starts college in an uncharacteristic wave of enthusiasm. After one week, he is shopping files and highlighters, leaving me to ponder what has happened to my laid back boy. In week two… he is actually seen using them, colour coding extensive notes on complex chemical compounds, and planning time for revision. Seriously, where has my son gone?

“I’m starting as I mean to go on” a serious Small boy explains, “and I’m going to need a new laptop!“

Well this is very true. The battered old grey beasts I bought for both of my younger children in Lockdown have long since given up the ghost. But the thought of funding this purchase from a bank balance already hit by car repairs, fills me with despair so I text his dad.

But before ex-hub can even respond, comes the fourth financial challenge of the season and it is Small boy again. This time a rather nervous and apologetic voicemail from the home landline informs me that the great goon has left his iphone 11 on the bus!

“ARGHHHHH!”

I am still embroiled in this one. Mum the detective is on the trail of the bus driver to whom, someone at college reports, the phone was handed, a couple of stops after Small boy got off. Mum the realist has contacted the phone company to put bars on the device and my insurance company to find out how much they (and I) will doubtless be forking out to replace the phone. If they accept our claim at all that is as, not once, but twice in the last 6 months they have already paid out for screen repairs to … the very same iphone 11!

Hence, am I feeling ‘like a millionaire today‘ with matters financial ‘exceeding my expectations’? Errr, that would be a ‘no’!

On the other hand, tonight is a Lotto rollover so perhaps I should squander my one remaining fiver on a ticket? More probably I should stop reading those horoscopes and buy myself a cheap bottle of plonk to ease the financial pain. But hang on a tick … did they not mention something about ‘shopping for yourself’! Maybe there’s some truth hidden in the mystic words after all…

Well done son!

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Thursday 25 August 2022

This Thursday, the gentle giant, affectionately know as Smallboy, collects his GCSE results … and they are cracking!

The entire squad bundles down to school for support, crammed into my Eldest’s 3-door car, (alas, Windsor is recovering from an encounter with a bollard in Bolton … a story for another day) because, that is what we do and because we get it. Get the pressure of high expectation from: school, friends, family. Everyone expecting you to have done well, to have ‘sailed through‘ to have ‘smashed it’. It is a lot to bear at the age of 16 and the car journey is pretty quiet.

Our phone clocks move to 09:00. The school doors open. Off he goes and, after 3 years of blessed GCSE respite, it is ‘welcome back’ to that tortuous wait in the car for me! Smallboy later tells me that,

I kind of knew it had gone well mum because as I went through the doors one of the teachers told me to ‘wait behind at the end for a photograph’

But there is none of this reassurance for those left outside. Stomach churning, I waive aside my daughters’ suggestions of ‘music‘ or ‘playing a game‘. I try some experimental ‘positive chanting’ but soon fall back upon the familiar and am completing my fourth decade of the rosary when we see him ambling across the carpark, giving us a shy thumbs up and hopping back into the front seat.

It is simply a super set of grades! He gives a modest shrug, his face breaks into a smile, I ruffle his curly locks and we head off for a Maccies breakfast to celebrate.

And so, as a parent, my encounter with GCSE examinations, revision and results days comes to an end. Three very different experiences, not so much with the results days but with the examination period itself. This final one, without doubt, the most laid back and … let me get down with the kids and say, ‘chilled’ ever. Few dramas and a very relaxed (which I found alarming on occasion) approach to revision. Typically, I’d arrive home and open with,

Have you started revision yet? You’ve got Chemistry tomorrow

To which my son would usually reply along the lines of,

Don’t stress mother, it’s only 7pm… plenty of time!

I did put my foot down about mid-week socialising but he still went out most weekends. I also supported the schools insistence on attendance and did not consent to my son’s pleas to ‘phone and ask for study leave’.

Did any of it make a jot of difference? I guess we shall never know. But, on supporting school policy, I was never going to budge. I am unspeakably grateful to our local high school for many things and this includes the knowledge, the love of learning and the encouragement to aim high that they have instilled in all three of my offspring. I cannot thank them enough for this because, as a single parent, life is a tough old trek and self-doubt always only a thought away. Their resolute input has, without question shielded my trio from my lone-mum fears of ‘daring to hope’ and contributed to them becoming just lovely young people, with amazing friends and bright futures. So rather than questioning any edicts over the years I have been happy to trust and that has certainly paid off.

So let’s finish this post where we started with the one and only Small boy. Enrolled at sixth-form and starting an exciting new chapter. Well done son, you enjoy this moment …

Have I sold my soul … ?

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Wednesday 10 August 2022

“It is £30 for a check-up and we take payment in advance.”

I am momentarily frozen on the other end of the line. I am about to join a private dental practice and the immediate mention of cold, hard cash (well electronically transferred funds) brings home the reality that I am now paying for health care. Have I sold my soul to the devil?

This particular practice actually invited me in, after they met me as an emergency patient a few weeks ago. On this occasion, I had lost a filling and, co-incidentally, discovered to my dismay that I had also lost my place with the NHS dentist. After experimenting with home remedies, a work colleague suggested plugging the gap with chewing gum and I bunged in some gunk from the internet, I eventually resigned myself to taking an appointment with anyone who could help, waved my credit card at the smiling receptionist and left with a very secure (if expensive) new amalgam.

Thereafter, I resolved to find a new NHS practice and ‘re-join the dental system‘. And so when the private practitioners emailed me with an invite to ‘sign on’ to their books, I initially ignored it.

Alas, however, getting back into the national system proved trickier than I thought. Countless calls and google searches confirmed that nobody… but nobody is taking on new patients. And so for a while I just parked the issue and forgot about my teeth. Small boy, unlike me, had not been turfed out of the local practice. If he was okay, in true single parent fashion, I resolved to ‘just muddle on’.

‘Perhaps,’ I reason, ‘if there are no places and everyone seems happy to accept this, then dental care cannot be that important. Maybe the occasional emergency appointment is the way to go?‘

On Monday of this week, however the BBC report, ‘Full extent of NHS dentistry shortage revealed by far-reaching BBC research’, reveals, not only that 9 out of 10 NHS practices are not taking on new adult patients but also that this has lead to an alarming rise in ‘DIY dentistry‘. People pulling out their own teeth, restricting their diets to little more than soup and making improvised dentures. When I hear a man on the radio describing how he was forced to extract 2 teeth with pliers …. arghhhh…. I am forced to review my thoughts on dental care and I reluctantly re-read the email from the private practice.

I also review their costs because, let’s be clear, NHS dentistry is not ‘free‘ for adults, indeed free treatment ended in 1951, just three years after the NHS was formed, because it was deemed unaffordable, however the pricing is subsidised and pretty simple with only 3 charge bands.

Band 1: £23.80covers an examination, diagnosis, advice including x-rays, a scale and polish
Band 2: £62.50covers all treatment in band 1 plus additional treatments such as fillings, root canal and extractions
Band 3: £282.80covers all treatment in bands 1 and 2 , plus more complex procedures such as crowns, dentures and bridges
NHS Dental charges

I quickly discover that the private costs are a lot higher, in particular because there is no inclusion of previous costs in their pricing structure, so those bills just accumulate! Nonetheless, as I rattle around the kitchen this morning, I do come across a pair of pliers. It’s surely a sign. I need to spend some money on myself … just this once…

So I make the call and pay the examination fee.

At the end of much prodding and x-raying, I find that I do need a filling. As it is quite pricey, I elect to postpone treatment for a while, at least until my August pay check lands. It has been an expensive month for me with all 3 teens temporarily back at home. Doubtless though, at some point in the Autumn, I shall find the money and add yet more metal to my molars.

But I resent having to wait and I resent having to make health decision based not upon my wellbeing but upon my bank balance. The reasons for the current crisis I do not really fathom but I find incredibly sad. Is this, as the BBC report challenges, ‘The death of NHS Dentistry?’ It is certainly not the vision of national health care free that I hold dear.

For what of those who cannot pay at all? Worrying times …

The parent … as a gardener ?

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Tuesday 26 July 2022

Gracious me gardeners, I need your help!

About 6 weeks ago, a pupil bought me this beautiful rose, accompanied by an utterly delightful card.

“It’s called Lovely Lady,” she beamed, “because you are a lovely lady!”

Well, look what has happened to the poor thing since I brought it home and planted it in the garden!

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is garden-2-2.jpg

Help! What to do? I’ve watered. I’ve fed. I’ve sprayed. But the once-lovely lady continues to droop. Every morning and every night, I have to face that desperate, bowed stem and … I feel dreadful.

‘Is the rose simply a reflection of me?‘ I ponder in a mad moment, ‘devoid of all energy and drive and just dragging myself towards the end of term?’

Or.. am I just a hopeless gardener?

Probably the latter, which would not be so bad, but for the fact that, in a similar vein to my pupil, several writers find strong parallels between gardening and parenting.

Children’s author, Katherine Halligan, in her post Why Parenting Why is a Lot Like Gardening, describes her transition into life with a family as follows,

As I gave up all notion of control and surrendered to the (happy!) chaos, I discovered I had probably been wrong all along. Nature has its own agenda, just like children do. And children, like plants, tend to thrive in spite of everything I do wrong.

Much, as ‘Lovely Lady’ is clearly not in the thriving category at the moment, I do enjoy the rest of Katherine’s article. The notion of learning on the job and just ‘jumping in at the deep end’ make pretty reassuring reading for any parent (or gardener.)

“Mostly I simply muddle along, going on instinct, hoping that weather and circumstance will favour my wild guesses …”

And it is a version of the idea of working with, rather than trying to control the complexities of life, that highlights the parent’s role as a gardener for child psychologist Alison Gopnik in, The Gardener and the Carpenter. ‘Which kind of parent are you?’ she challenges us to consider, gardener or carpenter?

The “carpenter” thinks that his or her child can be moulded. “The idea is that if you just do the right things, get the right skills, read the right books, you’re going to be able to shape your child ….”

‘The “gardener,” on the other hand, is less concerned about controlling who the child will become and instead provides a protected space to explore…”

Which one are you? Which one am I?

I decide that I am probably a mix of both and my kids agree. I quite like the idea of the gardener and the carpenter but find them more useful for describing behaviours than people. Hence in some situations, I approach things as a ‘moulder’ and in others, as a supportive of the ‘explorer’. Hey it is an analogy after all. At least I hope so, because if not, given my lack of skill in either domain, things don’t look too rosy for my offspring!

Interesting as the reading is, parenting is not my problem on this occasion… gardening is. And none of this solves the dilemma of wilting ‘Lovely Lady’. As far as I can see, my only options now are, pruning, supporting with bamboo and … a miracle?

Meanwhile, all suggestions welcome!

Family first…

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Thursday 30 June2022

What parent doesn’t feel overwhelmed at times? Plus, if you are the only parent in the house … a mathematician could hypothesis that you face double the demands of juggling work, life and parenting!

Number theories aside, it is certainly one of those weeks for me. A chaos of day job, evening jobs, afterwork meetings and rehearsals collide with Small Boy’s college open evening and … prom! I find myself triple booked on most evenings, cannot see a way through and, after two really good months for me and my headspace, start to spiral into panic.

Two wise words from an old boss bring me back from the brink,

“Family first”

That was always our motto when work and home diary commitments clashed. When you can’t do everything, which at times none of us can, move the most important things to the top of the list .. and for most of us, that means family!

In their article ‘Time Management Tips for Busy Parents’, the childcare company Bright Horizons, open on a similar theme. The key, they maintain, to balancing personal needs, family needs and the needs of your career is to accept that:

  • Not doing everything is okay
  • It’s all right to say no
  • You need to know what is truly important to you

Manage this, they claim and we will achieve the quality of life we are striving for “without completely losing our minds in the process.”

It certainly does the trick for me on this occasion. I decide that my son is the most important person in our household this week and, as a result, sixth-form open event and the school prom become our top, indeed our only, priority. Yes, I simply remove everything else!

Instantly, I can breathe and think again! Additionally, possibly because I rarely pull out of anything or maybe because most other people have also faced similar dilemmas, nobody else seems to mind either. The world does not stop turning and rehearsals, meetings and work events all carry on smoothly without me.

Does ex-hub ever feel pulled in 5 different directions?‘

I ponder briefly. Would he ever have to agonise about saying ‘no‘ to work colleagues and commitments? Probably not; but then again neither does he get to wander round our huge local college and share discussions of physics, philosophy, Chaucer and chemistry with our wonderful son. He also misses out on the proud memories of a handsome young man heading out to the prom surrounded by fun and friendship. I guess, the old adage, that you get out of life what you put in, rings true in every way that actually matters. So he can keep his quiet, self-centred life and I’ll hang on instead to my crazy existence.

So, here’s to ‘family first’! For accepting that I cannot always be perfect and keep everybody happy but I can always value and cherish what is really important and keep that as my main priority. All in all, that has got to be a pretty good way to live this life …

‘