The Making of a Single Mum

In 2007, I left my ex-husband and the country where I had been living and working for five years, to start a new life in Switzerland.

I journeyed for 36 hours in a rented car from Warsaw to Geneva. I loaded the car with our meager belongings (what was left of it... what I could salvage) : my books, some clothes, a couple of toys, plates and glasses, towels. Early that morning, I shoved my kid in the back seat, and when he started to cry, I tried to calm him down by saying:
 -"I know how you feel, but this is the best for us." Out of arguments, my last try: "Trust me!"

How could he? He had been on this earth for five years and a bit, and during his entire life, he had heard how my patriarchal husband put me down, he had seen me physically hurt by someone who was supposed to love me until death would do us part. But more than anything, he had seen my trying to compromise and amend, apologizing, trying to find solace in this horrid home life, crying myself to sleep. Why would he trust me?

This was my last chance to have a life. A life where I would be free of fear, free of worry, and able to live my dreams, whatever they were.

My stomach ached when we would be having breakfast and he'd ask:
 - "Can I have some powder chocolate on my toast, quick before he wakes up?" and his eyes would be worryingly checking the corridor "just in case" for this once, the patriarch would wake up before 5PM.

Why would he trust me?

We used to sneak out of the apartment, early morning on Sundays. He, on his bike, and me, with a smile on my face and my camera in my hand. We would go to the woods, count acorns for his week-end Math homework, measure tree trunks and compare twigs with our arms, and more than anything else, breathe.
After one hour, I would start worrying in case "he" would wake up and not find us at home. I'd start feeling edgy and we'd hurry back, without a word, quietly hoping that he would still be asleep.
One day, he woke up as we reached home and forbid us to ever sneak out again without having first asked him if he would like to join us. He accused me of "stealing his time away from my son". Oh, yes, he had this miraculous talent to twist reality around!
The following Sunday, I woke him up, he said we should wait for him. He got up around 5PM and when I said it was too late to go, he replied:
 - "Well, then, next time, don't make such a fuss about your Sunday expedition!"
That was the end of our free time in the woods. 

Why would my son trust me?

When I pulled out in front of our new house in Geneva, it was 5:30PM and we were exhausted. Me from driving, my son from crying.
That night, we sat in the dark, on the carpet of the empty living room, and nibbled on a pack of left-over crisps, feeling miserable. We had nothing, but I had my son, we had each other. I had the certitude this was the start of our new life, but somehow, I had diddly squat to show for it. My son looked very sad and it broke my heart.

The next day at 8AM, I started my new job, and my son started his new school.

To be continued...

Please God, Protect my Child!

I say my prayer every night, asking God to protect my child, keep him safe and happy all day, every day. I also ask to be enlightened, to somehow know what to say on important topics.

When he was a small boy, I once lost him on the beach. You think this is crazy right? He was right beside me and I had my eyes on him. Suddenly he saw tire tracks on the sand and started to follow them. I immediately got up and followed him. He was fast and I was slow digging between all the towels and sun-bathers blocking my path.

I called out to him, but the noise of the ocean and the voices of people playing beach-volley, added to my toddler's concentration on the tire tracks he was following, made it impossibly for him to hear me.

Suddenly, stones were blocking the way. He cleared that in no time, I slipped because I kept looking at him. At that point, I was hysterical. If I lost vision of him, and if someone found him, even someone nice, who would take him to a police station or something, he would never be able to tell them where we lived (we were on holiday), what my phone number was, probably could not even say his family name, because he would be frightened, had nothing on him to help an investigator because he was wearing a swimsuit only.

I was calling out for help, I was shouting at him to stop and wait, and then I lost visual. I crawled over the stones and scanned the beach, I could not see my child. My heart was racing, my brain was suffocating. Guilt, worry, shame, panic, all this was banging at the door of my consciousness.

Suddenly I spotted him. He was talking to a stranger. I ran over, looking like a dangling mannequin, oxygen was flowing in my lungs, life was starting again, and I was furious. Unfairly furious at my son for going away like this, forgetting me, the most important person in his life, unfairly furious at the stranger who was holding my son's arm and listening to him "I don't know where is my Mum." But really furious at myself for not having any safety identification on my child.

I grabbed him, hissed a vague "thank you" and waited until I was away from everyone who had seen this scene to kneel down and hug him like his life depended on this embrace.
 - "I was so scared, I could not see you! Please never go away from me again!"

When I came back home that evening, I searched for the business card someone handed me once at an exhibition. I had thought then "what a great idea!" and I never acted on it.
I found the card, browsed their website and ordered an ID set faster than I could spell my address.

This website does not exist anymore, but I found the following:

 - http://www.kidsafeid.com/ (when I reached the "ORDER" page, my browser said that the site is not safe, quite ironic, don't you think?)

 - http://store.safetytat.com/store/ (link on the left) I like this one very much! and they have wonderful tips on how to keep children safe while in strange places.

This is not all it takes, but it helps.

Help! I'm parenting alone!

Each day is a melody waiting to be created

Oh, hey! Well done, you found me! I am so happy about that I could cry. Well, well, I probably cried already today, so I'll jump up and down instead.

The song I am singing today is accompanied by the birds out in the garden. They sing so loud I can barely hear myself humming. It's beautiful! Parenting, Parenting, lalalalaal...

But here is a "quack" in my beautiful melody: I'm alone with my kid. Something did not work out the way I (or my parents) had planned it, and now, force is to realize that it is going to be so: me and my kid, my kid and me, all alone... 

Does that change my parenting style? Oh yes! Of course, who is asking that?

When there are two parents, they get to argue about the best possible ways to deal with just about anything. I am talking about "positive arguments", the ones that help you grow, understand, put things into perspectives, change your mind etc.

Since I am alone with my kid, the only person I can ask for help in understanding matters is... well, my kid! Crazy, hey?
As a result, he is more able to reflect than any kid his age and I have to spit out my worries in a language that is acceptable for a 10-year old. Not easy!

OK, don't get all panicky on me, it is not like I am asking him to solve major issues for me, but his opinion takes a heavy part in my decisions, want it or not, he votes for 50% of the household.
This blog is about sharing this amazing, life-enhancing experience to parent a wonderful kid... or to parent in order to obtain a wonderful kid, or... well, you get what I mean, right?

Those Family Ties

It is not so easy for a small child to feel close to grand-parents, uncles, aunties and cousins when they only see each other a couple of weeks each year. We live abroad and my son sees his French family for the Summer holidays, for Christmas, sometimes at Easter.

When my son was little, we got there, it was always late, we had traveled for two days, in bus and train, and everyone was focused on the little boy, expecting him to jump to their arms and cuddle... and I would have loved this too...

But, it was not so, when we reached the familial nest, my son hid behind my legs, refused to look at anyone, cried if Granny came close, and fought if auntie wanted to hold him.

It was all normal and even though he knew his people, they looked strange to him.

It usually took about one week before he was comfortable with all these new faces, and this was often just the time we needed to leave again.

I found that as he grew, he had to refer to things he did in the past with his grand-mother or uncle and so on, before he could feel comfortable with them. If they were willing to play along, and talk with him about the great time they had last time watering the plants or riding the horse, then it was all good and the ice was broken in a jiffy.
 

When my son was 3 and a half and he was more comfortable with his French family, he liked to get back in his "old tracks" as soon as we arrived there, so I made sure Grand-Dad remembered to charge the battery of his electrical motorbike and that the toy garage was in the living room.

Patience is a key word, and of course, when your time is limited, with a little bit of help from everyone involved, it can be smoother.

I find that a willingness to bend the rules now and then (like letting my child go to bed later on the day extra members of the family show up for example)

At home, I kept a simple photo album, with snapshots of holidays and fun times. At times, my son would look through it alone or with me to recall Christmas in France or riding auntie's horse.