This morning I was sitting amongst piles of boxes, paperwork and half-drunk cups of coffee, and I Googled "how to work with your spouse without killing him". Yes, really.
I'll be honest, I'm not one to handle my faults with grace. I don't face a challenge with steadfast determination (although I do get there eventually). I face a challenge with some finger-pointing, stalling, a bit of foot-stamping, frowning, a tiny bit of shouting and a whole lot of sulking. It doesn't get me anywhere, and actually delays whatever I'm working on for a good hour or two.
I wish I could say otherwise. I wish I could be the person that a lot of people call "determined", and "ballsy" and sometimes "fearless". Oh, but that's not me on the inside. Nope. Especially when it comes to working with someone who knows me well enough to point out those weaknesses, highlight them and have me learn from them.
My other half and I are pretty awesome parents, we always tend to be on the same page. We're also really good travelling partners. We explore a lot. We laugh a lot. And we're really good at thinking with a logical head when it comes to business. In our own businesses, that is.
Put us together to work on something that's a huge undertaking... well, that's a whole different story. It's new to us, and my assumption was that the dynamics would be easy to navigate. No. It isn't. Hasn't been. It's exciting, terrifying, emotional and personal. It's complicated.
He's super brilliant when it comes to managing people. Knowing a market. Knowing how to sculpt a business into what it's supposed to be doing and who it's supposed to reach. He's been running his own business now for almost 4 years, so he's learned how to navigate completely new territories. I, on the other hand, am good at seeing things on a more creative level, both with words and with colour. I nitpick. I lose myself in a "well, should it be bright green or dark green?" dilemma. I'll do the emotional, touch-feely bits, he'll do the gears and bolts, fine-tuning all of my ideas to make it work with his vision. Together we can put something together that is impactful, insightful and exciting. But not without our battles.
Today is a very long day in a string of long days, nights and weeks, building something that hopefully will be great. I think it will be. And I think I need to focus on the bigger picture sometimes instead of the details.
We will get there. It will happen. Although a shed to escape to at the bottom of the garden wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing...
Sunday, 11 November 2012
Thursday, 1 November 2012
Are you parent enough?*
So, I learned a very valuable lesson a few days ago. Women, especially women that are mothers, can be pretty brutal.
In a nutshell, I received an email the other day from a very close friend of mine, unceremoniously dumping me as a friend. You know the feeling of being dumped by text? Well, take that feeling, multiply it by about 50, and then throw in a bit of parental judgement. Confused? Yeah, me too.
You, reader, will most likely think well, I don't know their history, so I wonder what prompted this?
And I will tell you: nothing except our parenting differences. Yeah, keep reading.
When I moved to London, as you'll read in my very early blog posts, I didn't know anyone. All of my friends were more like acquaintances from work, no one I could rely on. No big deal, I was finding my way. Three years ago, I met a girl and we clicked immediately. Same backgrounds, same outlooks, same sense of relaxed adventure. We were also pregnant, due at similar times. Fast forward a bit, we were still as close as ever, our kids were similar ages, we had had our second little ones, we would joke that we would live in a commune one day in the country with our husbands and babies.
About 6 months ago, she'd been very distant. Not emailing, calling, not responding my invites for them to stay at our new house. I'd figured she'd been busy, no worries. I didn't think anything of it, until I saw a comment on Facebook from her to me. It was a defensive rebuff to a comment that I made to her. I didn't understand it, and I'd seen similar responses on email and in person from her to me.
So I wrote to her to see what was going on, and in that email I preemptively apologised, thinking that it was probably my fault because I tend to be a bit loud and blunt sometimes.
She responded with something that shocked me to no end:
It's your parenting choices. It breaks my heart when you put your kids on the naughty step. I don't choose to parent that way, so though I think you're great, I don't want to hang out with my kids and your kids, putting them in that environment. It makes me uncomfortable, as I choose to parent in a non-discipline way. I have friends that have different parenting methods, and because I don't agree with some of them, I choose to hang out with just them and not their kids as well. I would rather just talk to them about sleepless nights, not necessarily discipline problems. I don't agree with you putting on Facebook your child having a time-out...
In a sense, she was dumping me because of my parenting choices. Wow. The email went on and on about other things, like my blunt personality, but at that point, I didn't care.
Was I reading this wrong? Am I being overly sensitive? Should I praise her for telling me honestly how she felt? Does parenting make women crazy? Is she crazy? What have I done wrong?
My mind raced with anger, sadness, confusion. I can honestly say (and people who know me well know that I am a pretty awesome friend), that I have never judged or analysed her parenting choices. Yes, they're wildly different from mine, but I have loved her 100% consistently throughout our entire friendship. And my children loved being around her kids.
I was blindsided. I was sad that for the past 2 and more years, I have been secretly judged by a friend of mine whom I shared 100% of my heart with. It was hugely disappointing and I mourned the loss.
What was the lesson in this? What could I have done differently? What kind of person is this to tell a friend that?
What I realised is that anyone who is a parent, is doing their best. Every parent is playing their days by ear, figuring out how best to show their children that they love them unconditionally, establishing boundaries, and trying to show them that the world is made up of different families, different people, and different attitudes. But that everyone is essentially just trying to be a good person at the end of the day.
The email made me temporarily question my own parenting abilities and how my children are. I asked myself: am I a good enough parent? are my children happy? am I too strict?
And the answer that came to me is this: For my life and my family... unequivocally I am doing exactly the right thing.
My husband and I run our family a certain way because of the kind of personalities that my children have. It works for us. More importantly, there is a lot of laughter, a lot of hugging and kissing, a lot of love and sharing and talking and playing. I'm sure the same exists in my (ex-) friend's family as well. It was just so sad to me that she let something get in the way of both of us experiencing the joy and pain of friendship and parenthood together.
Whatever kind of parent you are, everyone should do what makes themselves and their family happy. Judgement is reserved for lawyers and courtrooms, not for friendships that require unconditional love and support.
We're all parent enough. We don't need any more added pressure on ourselves, from friends, family or media. Life is way too short.
Lesson learned.
*Yes, I copied this title from the very controversial Time Magazine article from a while ago. I like it. It starts conversations.
Thursday, 25 October 2012
3.
I'm not really a speechless person. People who know me, know that I tend to over-talk. But here I am, staring at a blank page, wondering how to put into words how I feel when I look at my baby. My first. My now three-year-old. Sigh. Blank stare. Delete. Edit. Start again.
I took her to the park yesterday, on the eve of her turning a year older. M was running around in the grass, and L was in the swing. The big-girl swing. All long lean limbs and arms, hair a mess, head tilted back and eyes closed, happy as can be.
Higher, higher, she begged. And the higher she went and the farther away from me, she caught the fading sunlight in the sky. And I stopped to wonder where I was three years ago. Without her outside of me, but with her tucked away in me, ready to come out. Ready to take on her next adventure, her next challenge.
Higher, she says. She tests herself constantly. Tests her own limits, her boundaries, how things work, what makes things tick. She pushes and pulls at her world, refusing skirts and tights most of the time in favour of jeans hoodies and wellies, so that she can see what her universe is made of. She digs, she explores, she is unapologetic.
What happens at 3? Not much intellectually, really, as the ache for knowledge is always there and it's ferocious. New words constantly, new inflections. They're all little sponges at this age, it seems. But physiologically, the lines start to blur. Her baby face is softening and filling out in places and carving out in others. Her legs are starting to take a girlish shape, rather than a clumsy toddler's. She's much more insistant that she need her own space, her own decisions when it comes to anything creative.
Her tall and gangly-ness (thanks to parents who are both tall and gangly) makes her too big for the baby-swing. Too big for the constraints of the seat that protects her. She wants to be free. She wants the feeling of striking out on her own. She acknowledges her fear and swims through it to the other side.
Her language is so sophisticated now, and it accentuates her desires.
"No, Mamo. I would like to do it like this. No, like this- I want to do it myself, please."
When it's quiet in the house at night, her voice echoes in my ears, and it triggers both an ache and a pride. My baby, of course you can do it yourself. I'm so proud, I always say, as my eyes sting with tears and my throat has that familiar raspiness.
I wanted to capture her in the half-light yesterday in the swing, I wanted to photograph her in that moment- golden, laughing, still a baby in certain ways, but glinting of the future unfolding too quickly. But I chose not to, because in using my camera I would've missed it. I would've missed what the moment felt like, and I'm lucky that I took it all in for once- no other thoughts running through my head, no other agenda, just living in the moment. It was beautiful.
My baby, you will always be that little girl. My adventure-seeker. My fearless, loving creature that pushes me to be a participating witness to your magical life. I'm so very lucky.
I took her to the park yesterday, on the eve of her turning a year older. M was running around in the grass, and L was in the swing. The big-girl swing. All long lean limbs and arms, hair a mess, head tilted back and eyes closed, happy as can be.
Higher, higher, she begged. And the higher she went and the farther away from me, she caught the fading sunlight in the sky. And I stopped to wonder where I was three years ago. Without her outside of me, but with her tucked away in me, ready to come out. Ready to take on her next adventure, her next challenge.
Higher, she says. She tests herself constantly. Tests her own limits, her boundaries, how things work, what makes things tick. She pushes and pulls at her world, refusing skirts and tights most of the time in favour of jeans hoodies and wellies, so that she can see what her universe is made of. She digs, she explores, she is unapologetic.
What happens at 3? Not much intellectually, really, as the ache for knowledge is always there and it's ferocious. New words constantly, new inflections. They're all little sponges at this age, it seems. But physiologically, the lines start to blur. Her baby face is softening and filling out in places and carving out in others. Her legs are starting to take a girlish shape, rather than a clumsy toddler's. She's much more insistant that she need her own space, her own decisions when it comes to anything creative.
Her tall and gangly-ness (thanks to parents who are both tall and gangly) makes her too big for the baby-swing. Too big for the constraints of the seat that protects her. She wants to be free. She wants the feeling of striking out on her own. She acknowledges her fear and swims through it to the other side.
Her language is so sophisticated now, and it accentuates her desires.
"No, Mamo. I would like to do it like this. No, like this- I want to do it myself, please."
When it's quiet in the house at night, her voice echoes in my ears, and it triggers both an ache and a pride. My baby, of course you can do it yourself. I'm so proud, I always say, as my eyes sting with tears and my throat has that familiar raspiness.
I wanted to capture her in the half-light yesterday in the swing, I wanted to photograph her in that moment- golden, laughing, still a baby in certain ways, but glinting of the future unfolding too quickly. But I chose not to, because in using my camera I would've missed it. I would've missed what the moment felt like, and I'm lucky that I took it all in for once- no other thoughts running through my head, no other agenda, just living in the moment. It was beautiful.
My baby, you will always be that little girl. My adventure-seeker. My fearless, loving creature that pushes me to be a participating witness to your magical life. I'm so very lucky.
Tuesday, 28 August 2012
Who said that? Oh it's me again.
Sometimes I forget that I'm not 31 and newly married and living in a foreign country.
It was all razzamatazz for a while. All whiskey wishes and caviar dreams. Party until 3am. Flashy apartments. Trips of a lifetime. Sex 3 times a day.
Now we have kids and live out in the country. Lots of those things are decent memories (yes, including the thing that you think will NEVER disappear. It does. Unfortunately.) When the hell did that page turn?!
Anyway, enough about the change. It's about embracing it and discovering this new suburban/rural life.
The women here? Not so scary. I thought to myself that the glossy-haired brigade would be out in full force at the school drop-off and pickup. But no, but no. These are normal, jeans-n-t-shirt wearing ladies with hair in ponytails and no 5-carat diamonds weighing their finger down. Granted, they were still very well ensconced in their comfortable group, but they didn't exactly talk about me behind my back because I was wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and black nail varnish. They were civil. Almost kind, even.
I feel very far away from everyone. Now, I will enhance that phrase with the fact that I have never really had any family of friends (my own) over here. My family has always been my in-laws, and my friends have always been my other half's friends' wives/girlfriends. I have one friend that I met a couple years ago here, and that isn't a very constant relationship. Add to that a husband that works 12 hour days, and, well... wine is my friend. Now that we live an hour outside of London (and the girls I know all have their own lives and own kids), I have to figure it out on my own. It isn't the easiest thing in the world, and there are only so many Lego houses I can build, but I have surprisingly embraced it. I love my little gang. I love my house, and my life, and this little haven of domesticity. Coming from someone who always said I would never have kids and used to work and party to exhaustion... well, that's saying a lot.
It's no big secret that I want lots of kids. I was an only chid, so it could be something from that. Or it could be that I just enjoy being a mum and creating routines for these little people to flourish under. I think I'm possibly better at this than many other things that I've done in my life. My ovaries just keep aching when I see pudgy hands and velvety cheeks. I've also realised that life is much more than owning the best car and the best clothes and the best sparkly jewellery. It's more than having a desk job and a predictable existence. Life is about risk and adventure and passion. And if I life a life without those things, I know I'll regret it. Children are a risk and an adventure. They make life messy and chaotic and ridiculous. And I want more and more of it. We'll see what we're blessed with.
Helping run a business is not an easy feat. It's exhausting and stressful and can be destructive to a relationship if you're not really tuned into eachother. My other half runs a pretty successful business, which is hard enough, but we're attempting to launch another one this autumn. I'm much more involved in the latter than the former. But both are intense. And although it's been a unique learning experience, I'm not sure I would reccommend it to couples. Especially ones with 2 children under 3.
Rent or buy, rent or buy?!? That's our next chapter. We've always rented, because we've never found a place where we wanted to settle. And now that we have.... well, the market hasn't improved, so do we risk buying? Or do we keep renting until it's less risky and houses are worth more to sell later on? We want to put down some roots here leafy-ville, but with the banks having horrific track records, we're definitely not going to put ourselves at risk and use our savings to get us out of the various mortage fluctuations. Moving every year isn't a nice thing to have to go through, but maybe better than putting down XXXXXXK for the house we want. We'll get there someday. But at the moment, being off the grid is a better option than being beholden to a 40-year contract.
Living frugally is easier than I expected. Who knew that you could make bread pudding from leftover breakfast toast crusts? Or beans and rice was so healthy? Oh, and refrigerator salad is totally a speciality of mine- whatever leftovers you have, throw it into a salad with some homemade dressing. It's yummier than I expected.
Well, there you go. A catchup post in the hope that it will spur me on to write a bit more frequently. Stay tuned. Must go now and tend to my neglected little ones that are currently playing with a brick and a pair of scissors. Great.
It was all razzamatazz for a while. All whiskey wishes and caviar dreams. Party until 3am. Flashy apartments. Trips of a lifetime. Sex 3 times a day.
Now we have kids and live out in the country. Lots of those things are decent memories (yes, including the thing that you think will NEVER disappear. It does. Unfortunately.) When the hell did that page turn?!
Anyway, enough about the change. It's about embracing it and discovering this new suburban/rural life.
The women here? Not so scary. I thought to myself that the glossy-haired brigade would be out in full force at the school drop-off and pickup. But no, but no. These are normal, jeans-n-t-shirt wearing ladies with hair in ponytails and no 5-carat diamonds weighing their finger down. Granted, they were still very well ensconced in their comfortable group, but they didn't exactly talk about me behind my back because I was wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and black nail varnish. They were civil. Almost kind, even.
I feel very far away from everyone. Now, I will enhance that phrase with the fact that I have never really had any family of friends (my own) over here. My family has always been my in-laws, and my friends have always been my other half's friends' wives/girlfriends. I have one friend that I met a couple years ago here, and that isn't a very constant relationship. Add to that a husband that works 12 hour days, and, well... wine is my friend. Now that we live an hour outside of London (and the girls I know all have their own lives and own kids), I have to figure it out on my own. It isn't the easiest thing in the world, and there are only so many Lego houses I can build, but I have surprisingly embraced it. I love my little gang. I love my house, and my life, and this little haven of domesticity. Coming from someone who always said I would never have kids and used to work and party to exhaustion... well, that's saying a lot.
It's no big secret that I want lots of kids. I was an only chid, so it could be something from that. Or it could be that I just enjoy being a mum and creating routines for these little people to flourish under. I think I'm possibly better at this than many other things that I've done in my life. My ovaries just keep aching when I see pudgy hands and velvety cheeks. I've also realised that life is much more than owning the best car and the best clothes and the best sparkly jewellery. It's more than having a desk job and a predictable existence. Life is about risk and adventure and passion. And if I life a life without those things, I know I'll regret it. Children are a risk and an adventure. They make life messy and chaotic and ridiculous. And I want more and more of it. We'll see what we're blessed with.
Helping run a business is not an easy feat. It's exhausting and stressful and can be destructive to a relationship if you're not really tuned into eachother. My other half runs a pretty successful business, which is hard enough, but we're attempting to launch another one this autumn. I'm much more involved in the latter than the former. But both are intense. And although it's been a unique learning experience, I'm not sure I would reccommend it to couples. Especially ones with 2 children under 3.
Rent or buy, rent or buy?!? That's our next chapter. We've always rented, because we've never found a place where we wanted to settle. And now that we have.... well, the market hasn't improved, so do we risk buying? Or do we keep renting until it's less risky and houses are worth more to sell later on? We want to put down some roots here leafy-ville, but with the banks having horrific track records, we're definitely not going to put ourselves at risk and use our savings to get us out of the various mortage fluctuations. Moving every year isn't a nice thing to have to go through, but maybe better than putting down XXXXXXK for the house we want. We'll get there someday. But at the moment, being off the grid is a better option than being beholden to a 40-year contract.
Living frugally is easier than I expected. Who knew that you could make bread pudding from leftover breakfast toast crusts? Or beans and rice was so healthy? Oh, and refrigerator salad is totally a speciality of mine- whatever leftovers you have, throw it into a salad with some homemade dressing. It's yummier than I expected.
Well, there you go. A catchup post in the hope that it will spur me on to write a bit more frequently. Stay tuned. Must go now and tend to my neglected little ones that are currently playing with a brick and a pair of scissors. Great.
Monday, 30 July 2012
I have kids and I live in the middle of nowhere AND I quit my job?! Pass the Scotch.
A lot of things happened in the space of 3 months.
I, ahem, quit my job to stay at home with the kids.
We moved out to a small village in the country. We don't know anyone here.
I was raining constantly until about a few days ago. Summer apparently doesn't exist in this country.
Yeah, all that hit me about 3 months after we moved. In a big giant raincloud of OH. NO.
It's not a big deal, but I felt well and truly isolated. My husband was still working 10 hour days, which means that though he has a long day, he still manages to get out of the house to do something.
Not that I don't, do anything, mind you... but still. Nothing changes for him except location. For me, my whole life shifted.
The aftermath is all positive, but I've had to adjust my way of thinking.
For someone who's worked their entire life, even after having kids, not having an office to go to started feeling a bit daunting. I started getting jealous of the mail delivery guy just because he could leave on a bike and see lots of different people and have a purpose at the end of the day. Delivering mail. Dude, if that's not the saddest thing you've ever heard, I don't know what is.
I started to finally get a hold of myself, because let's be honest, many many people have it much harder than me, and I need to get a grip and stop complaining.
The constant rain didn't help my mood and trying to entertain 2 kids under 3, but I pushed past it. I pushed past the isolation I felt not having friends and not having family around to help shoulder the childcare burden. I pushed past feeling distant from the husband. I pushed past the feelings of boredom. I pushed past the feelings of never having to make any "important" decisions other than which was the best price for detergent. I pushed past the financial sacrifices that we're making in order to start a business (another one). I pushed past it all and started, slowly, relishing the opportunity I was given.
I have a husband who, despite not seeing him very often, encourages me to stay at home and raise our family, no matter what it takes financially. I have a house and garden that is peaceful, safe and lovely. I have children who are much happier with me staying at home than they ever were with our nanny.
I just hope that my active brain doesn't get the better of me and start making me feel inadequate and disconnected from the "real" world. I hope that I can just enjoy this time, because I know it'll be fleeting.
I guess I just don't sit still for long.
I, ahem, quit my job to stay at home with the kids.
We moved out to a small village in the country. We don't know anyone here.
I was raining constantly until about a few days ago. Summer apparently doesn't exist in this country.
Yeah, all that hit me about 3 months after we moved. In a big giant raincloud of OH. NO.
It's not a big deal, but I felt well and truly isolated. My husband was still working 10 hour days, which means that though he has a long day, he still manages to get out of the house to do something.
Not that I don't, do anything, mind you... but still. Nothing changes for him except location. For me, my whole life shifted.
The aftermath is all positive, but I've had to adjust my way of thinking.
For someone who's worked their entire life, even after having kids, not having an office to go to started feeling a bit daunting. I started getting jealous of the mail delivery guy just because he could leave on a bike and see lots of different people and have a purpose at the end of the day. Delivering mail. Dude, if that's not the saddest thing you've ever heard, I don't know what is.
I started to finally get a hold of myself, because let's be honest, many many people have it much harder than me, and I need to get a grip and stop complaining.
The constant rain didn't help my mood and trying to entertain 2 kids under 3, but I pushed past it. I pushed past the isolation I felt not having friends and not having family around to help shoulder the childcare burden. I pushed past feeling distant from the husband. I pushed past the feelings of boredom. I pushed past the feelings of never having to make any "important" decisions other than which was the best price for detergent. I pushed past the financial sacrifices that we're making in order to start a business (another one). I pushed past it all and started, slowly, relishing the opportunity I was given.
I have a husband who, despite not seeing him very often, encourages me to stay at home and raise our family, no matter what it takes financially. I have a house and garden that is peaceful, safe and lovely. I have children who are much happier with me staying at home than they ever were with our nanny.
I just hope that my active brain doesn't get the better of me and start making me feel inadequate and disconnected from the "real" world. I hope that I can just enjoy this time, because I know it'll be fleeting.
I guess I just don't sit still for long.
Wednesday, 22 February 2012
Changing course.
Time and again, my life seems to push me ahead and pull me back at the same time. I’m pulled into euphoria and dropped back into frustration.
But this kind of cyclone happens with such ferocity only when there are lots of changes happening.
I have a way-too-tall-for-10-months mini version of myself in my green-eyed little boy. I don’t think I write about him often enough, and even if I do, it’s not enough. I feel like I crave more and more time with just myself and him. Gnawing, cooing, kissing, tickling, discovering his shadow… he is my bundle of peaceful love. He’s strong, brave, determined and very confident in telling everyone within earshot that he wants ME and ONLY ME to hold him.
I have an almost 2 and a half year old girl with huge brown eyes and dark blonde hair that exhausts me with the kind of lust that she has for the world. She wants more, more, more all the time. More challenges, more lessons, more exploring, more pushing-the-boundaries of her physical capabilities. It’s teaching me how to give her what she needs, but it also makes me feel that I don’t know how to give enough to her. It’s never enough for her, and it makes her tense and angry. Calm does not exist in her soul, and the only way I hope she can find it is if I stand by her and help her find her own sense of peace.
This magic has been happening in front of me and away from me, whilst I juggle being a working parent. Lately, for me, I realise that whilst I love what I do, me commuting an hour door to door in the morning and an hour in the evening is an exercise in selfishness, in some way. I want the break, I want to do something that exists outside of being a parent… but this job isn’t it. It isn’t THE thing that I jump out of bed for and leave my little family. It’s just been a getaway for me, but hasn’t fulfilled me for a while now.
I began to ask the feared question: is it worth it? Is the chaos of rearranging everything under the sun worth the 8 hours’ at a desk where I don’t really contribute ideas anymore?
And the answer came back to me: No.
And it terrified me, because I have never not worked. Since I’ve been 22, I have worked nonstop at various jobs in fashion, journalism and theatre. It’s been thrilling and exhausting and gratifying. But it’s become different now. Maybe it’s because I have two to look after now, maybe it’s because my life is leading me in a different direction temporarily, and my creativity will be used elsewhere.
I don’t know. It’s the unknown that scares me, I’ll admit. I don’t know if I’ll be a good stay-at-home mother, I don’t know if I’ll have the patience that’s needed. But I decided to resign. And I know that the decision
is an important one, and will be, for myself and my children for the moment.
In parallel with this decision has also come another one: moving out of London.
We’ve been here for almost 5 years now, and since my first post, it’s been an enlightening experience. I’ve learned how to be the resident of a new country, how to survive the first few years of marriage, how to drive, how to drink until 4am, how to be the wife of a business owner, and how to bring up two young children bilingually. I’m still learning about all of the above and more to come. But I am trading my stilettos for Wellington boots and moving out to a house in the country and potentially starting a business with my other half.
I don’t know what the next year will hold, but this year of the Dragon will be quite the ferocious one for us, in good and frustrating ways, I’m sure. Stay tuned.
Maybe I should rename this blog My London Ride? Because it sure feels like it at the moment…
But this kind of cyclone happens with such ferocity only when there are lots of changes happening.
I have a way-too-tall-for-10-months mini version of myself in my green-eyed little boy. I don’t think I write about him often enough, and even if I do, it’s not enough. I feel like I crave more and more time with just myself and him. Gnawing, cooing, kissing, tickling, discovering his shadow… he is my bundle of peaceful love. He’s strong, brave, determined and very confident in telling everyone within earshot that he wants ME and ONLY ME to hold him.
I have an almost 2 and a half year old girl with huge brown eyes and dark blonde hair that exhausts me with the kind of lust that she has for the world. She wants more, more, more all the time. More challenges, more lessons, more exploring, more pushing-the-boundaries of her physical capabilities. It’s teaching me how to give her what she needs, but it also makes me feel that I don’t know how to give enough to her. It’s never enough for her, and it makes her tense and angry. Calm does not exist in her soul, and the only way I hope she can find it is if I stand by her and help her find her own sense of peace.
This magic has been happening in front of me and away from me, whilst I juggle being a working parent. Lately, for me, I realise that whilst I love what I do, me commuting an hour door to door in the morning and an hour in the evening is an exercise in selfishness, in some way. I want the break, I want to do something that exists outside of being a parent… but this job isn’t it. It isn’t THE thing that I jump out of bed for and leave my little family. It’s just been a getaway for me, but hasn’t fulfilled me for a while now.
I began to ask the feared question: is it worth it? Is the chaos of rearranging everything under the sun worth the 8 hours’ at a desk where I don’t really contribute ideas anymore?
And the answer came back to me: No.
And it terrified me, because I have never not worked. Since I’ve been 22, I have worked nonstop at various jobs in fashion, journalism and theatre. It’s been thrilling and exhausting and gratifying. But it’s become different now. Maybe it’s because I have two to look after now, maybe it’s because my life is leading me in a different direction temporarily, and my creativity will be used elsewhere.
I don’t know. It’s the unknown that scares me, I’ll admit. I don’t know if I’ll be a good stay-at-home mother, I don’t know if I’ll have the patience that’s needed. But I decided to resign. And I know that the decision
is an important one, and will be, for myself and my children for the moment.
In parallel with this decision has also come another one: moving out of London.
We’ve been here for almost 5 years now, and since my first post, it’s been an enlightening experience. I’ve learned how to be the resident of a new country, how to survive the first few years of marriage, how to drive, how to drink until 4am, how to be the wife of a business owner, and how to bring up two young children bilingually. I’m still learning about all of the above and more to come. But I am trading my stilettos for Wellington boots and moving out to a house in the country and potentially starting a business with my other half.
I don’t know what the next year will hold, but this year of the Dragon will be quite the ferocious one for us, in good and frustrating ways, I’m sure. Stay tuned.
Maybe I should rename this blog My London Ride? Because it sure feels like it at the moment…
Thursday, 5 January 2012
It should be what it isn't.
2012 isn’t about resolutions. It isn’t about changing the face of who I am and how I operate, it’s about contented acceptance and joy.
It’s about finding the magic that exists in the day to day, the joy in the mundane.
2011 brought me so much joy, and so much to be thankful for (though I’m still waiting for a decent 8-hours’ sleep, that would be nice…). And it would be shameful for me if I didn’t take that into 2012 with a smile on my face and a skip in my step that shows the world I can count my blessings.
2012 is also about me appreciating the woman I’ve become, after putting myself down for so many years. I make things tough for myself to prove that things are worth it, which is bizarre I’ll admit, but that’s just how my brain works.
I no longer want to compromise myself for friendships. If you want to be my friend, you have to do the legwork, no matter how busy you are. Same goes for me. In 2011 I learned a valuable lesson: I reach out way too much and meet people more than halfway, and unfortunately I’ve been let down. I’m usually the one people turn to for venting, for help, for advice. And I give every time. Yet when I turn to them when I need help, I’m met with silence or avoidance. And yes, it was someone whom I thought was a close friend. Oh well.
I no longer want to compare myself to other people, and compare my achievements to others, to set an unreachable level for my own psyche. Everyone has their own challenges and baggage, and it’s up to me to cast off any extra weight that I’ve been carrying and focus on my own stuff.
I’m going to appreciate that the entire package that I have created within myself is extraordinary. Maybe sounds a bit arrogant, but I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished.
I met my husband and a year later I relocated to his home country.
I tried to find a job, and found a few good ones, but nothing that really challenged me.
We moved houses 3 times in 3 years.
In the midst of that, we had 2 children, I went back to work, he started a business, and we will be starting another one in 2012, fingers crossed.
I have no real friends over in this country, and my family is 4000 miles away in New York. His family runs their own business, so they aren’t really around either. Which means that we have no real help with childcare, consistently.
I’m not listing these to get a badge of honour, I’m listing these because all of these points have a silver lining for me. Every single one has made me who I am today. A much stronger person, a more balanced person, a more appreciative person for the negative that I’ve cut out of my life and for the positive that I’ve embraced.
2012 will be good. Because I have everything about it to smile about.
It’s about finding the magic that exists in the day to day, the joy in the mundane.
2011 brought me so much joy, and so much to be thankful for (though I’m still waiting for a decent 8-hours’ sleep, that would be nice…). And it would be shameful for me if I didn’t take that into 2012 with a smile on my face and a skip in my step that shows the world I can count my blessings.
2012 is also about me appreciating the woman I’ve become, after putting myself down for so many years. I make things tough for myself to prove that things are worth it, which is bizarre I’ll admit, but that’s just how my brain works.
I no longer want to compromise myself for friendships. If you want to be my friend, you have to do the legwork, no matter how busy you are. Same goes for me. In 2011 I learned a valuable lesson: I reach out way too much and meet people more than halfway, and unfortunately I’ve been let down. I’m usually the one people turn to for venting, for help, for advice. And I give every time. Yet when I turn to them when I need help, I’m met with silence or avoidance. And yes, it was someone whom I thought was a close friend. Oh well.
I no longer want to compare myself to other people, and compare my achievements to others, to set an unreachable level for my own psyche. Everyone has their own challenges and baggage, and it’s up to me to cast off any extra weight that I’ve been carrying and focus on my own stuff.
I’m going to appreciate that the entire package that I have created within myself is extraordinary. Maybe sounds a bit arrogant, but I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished.
I met my husband and a year later I relocated to his home country.
I tried to find a job, and found a few good ones, but nothing that really challenged me.
We moved houses 3 times in 3 years.
In the midst of that, we had 2 children, I went back to work, he started a business, and we will be starting another one in 2012, fingers crossed.
I have no real friends over in this country, and my family is 4000 miles away in New York. His family runs their own business, so they aren’t really around either. Which means that we have no real help with childcare, consistently.
I’m not listing these to get a badge of honour, I’m listing these because all of these points have a silver lining for me. Every single one has made me who I am today. A much stronger person, a more balanced person, a more appreciative person for the negative that I’ve cut out of my life and for the positive that I’ve embraced.
2012 will be good. Because I have everything about it to smile about.
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