Showing posts with label mothering. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mothering. Show all posts
Sunday, 14 October 2012
#OneMums Against Poverty
On our boat it seems there’s
Never enough water for the laundry or
Electric or diesel for a family of four but
My daughters fill the boat
Up with love and laughter and
Messy fingerprints and
Still we stay afloat.
Clare blogs at Seasider in the City and has started a meme based on the theme of One Mums (One Moms). To join in the meme you just have to take the letters of ONEMUMS and describe what being a mum means to you. Michelle and Jen from BritMums are travelling to Ethiopia with ONE. They don’t want money, just your voice. ONE is a non-partisan advocacy organization dedicated to the fight against extreme poverty and preventable disease, particularly in Africa. All parents share a connection, the idea is to join together to share the progress already being made by ONE. Follow the journey of Michelle and the team with the #ONEMums and #ONEMoms tags and sign up to ONE.
Monday, 10 September 2012
Neighbours
About two years ago we were travelling the waterways with
two very young children. My love of the gypsy life-style and exploring the
beauty of rural England was arguing passionately against my cravings for adult
company and a good night’s sleep. I had a critical inner monologue that berated
me for being unhappy and I wrote a wish list to try to figure out what exactly was
lacking in my life: Friends, neighbours, a community, a washing machine, more
storage space… it goes on.
But I notice that my first three wishes were for other
people; human contact.
Now here we are, settling in on our residential mooring and
enjoying the full benefit of neighbours. The couple on the boat next door
introduced themselves on our first day, shared their homemade elderflower wine
and offered to babysit sometime. Next-door-but-one is a lovely lady who grew up on a
boat. She’s brought up two kids on a boat and took me and the girls on a
countryside ramble; a short cut across the fields to show us the way to the
farm shop. When our alternator belt snapped we couldn’t run the engine to
charge the batteries. I was working at home and knew that before the end of the
day I would run out of electric; no lap top, no fridge, no fun. Our boating
neighbours recommended a handy boater moored just opposite who agreed to come
and fit a new belt as soon as he’d finished his cup of tea. At the church
playgroup the lady who delivers the parish newsletter assured me it would be no
trouble for her to make a detour down the towpath on her deliveries, so that I
can be kept updated with community events.
I did moan on this blog about the price of our new mooring,
but did you know that neighbours, other people, human contact, are sometimes
worth their weight in gold?
(The story of why and how we got a mooring: The Continuous CruisingControversy.)
Monday, 9 July 2012
Guest Post: A Village of Support
Last week I was approached by Heather, who asked if she could
share her story on my blog. While my blog is mostly about narrowboating, it is also
about parenting. Heather’s story struck a chord with me because I wrote about
cancer last year when my friend died suddenly; leaving
two young daughters behind.
My Mesothelioma Journey – A Village of Support
“It takes a village” is a recurring phrase that describes the responsibility and communal commitment to raising a child. I had a chance to experience a “village” with the birth of my daughter, Lily, on August 4, 2005.
My pregnancy was relatively uneventful with no complications, until my unexpected emergency C-section during delivery. Many family and friends surrounded me, including my parents and my husband’s family, to welcome our new baby and to wish us well. Everything seemed fine, but nothing could prepare us for the storm that was about to come.
Within a month of returning to work full-time, my health went downhill. I felt tired, breathless, and had no energy. I thought this was from being a new mom, but I knew something was wrong. I scheduled a doctor’s visit and, after a myriad of tests, we found the culprit.
On November 21, 2005, just 3-1/2 months after Lily came into our lives. I was diagnosed with malignant pleural mesothelioma – a cancer caused by asbestos that attacks the lungs’ linings. I was unknowingly exposed to asbestos when I was a child and 30 years later that exposure became mesothelioma.
My first thoughts were about my baby, not me. The news was hard to bear at the doctor’s appointment – I was told I had 15 months to live if I did nothing. I thought of Lily; I looked at my husband; I thought of the two of them living a life without me. I knew I had to do whatever it took to save my life, for myself and for them.
Mesothelioma has a grim prognosis, so we chose the most intense form of treatment we could. My husband and I flew to Boston to seek treatment with one of the best mesothelioma doctors. On February 2, I had surgery to remove my left lung and all of the surrounding tsissue, an extrapleural pneumenectomy.
I spent the next 18 days recovering from the surgery in the hospital, followed by two additional months of further recovery. I then started chemotherapy, and then radiation-- all of this as a new mom.
We could not have done all of this if we didn’t have the support of our village– the family and friends who surrounded us with love, support, and prayers. People, who we would not have expected, came to support us, while some we did expect support from, fled. The funny thing about this cancer is it really helps to weed out those who will be there from those who will not.
Lily stayed with my parents while we were in Boston. My parents, in this short amount of time, went from being new grandparents to becoming full-time parents to Lily.
It was amazing to see a village of support come together to help them care for Lily. The girls is used to babysit when I was a teenager – now married with their own children – volunteered to babysit Lily while both my mom and dad worked their full-time jobs. People I grew up with in church surrounded my parents with support and love.
While in Boston, we made new friends who shared the same cancer experience with us. This is how we managed to get through each day, with the support and love of the people around us.
Back home in my native South Dakota, my baby girl graduated to eating food and learning how to scoot and roll around. I had to witness her growth and development, though, through sketchy black and white copies of the pictures my mom emailed to me and my husband managed to print at a community printer. The nurses looked forward to seeing the new pictures, as I did, and we all tried to not cry. Lily was the reason for my treatment– she was the reason I decided to fight for my life.
As a family now, we try to embrace all that life gives us, because we know how fragile it is. My favorite quote is, “life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death.” Cancer is a funny thing– with the bad comes a lot of good. With my dire diagnosis, a whole lot of good came from it, and for that, I am thankful.
“It takes a village” is a recurring phrase that describes the responsibility and communal commitment to raising a child. I had a chance to experience a “village” with the birth of my daughter, Lily, on August 4, 2005.
My pregnancy was relatively uneventful with no complications, until my unexpected emergency C-section during delivery. Many family and friends surrounded me, including my parents and my husband’s family, to welcome our new baby and to wish us well. Everything seemed fine, but nothing could prepare us for the storm that was about to come.
Within a month of returning to work full-time, my health went downhill. I felt tired, breathless, and had no energy. I thought this was from being a new mom, but I knew something was wrong. I scheduled a doctor’s visit and, after a myriad of tests, we found the culprit.
On November 21, 2005, just 3-1/2 months after Lily came into our lives. I was diagnosed with malignant pleural mesothelioma – a cancer caused by asbestos that attacks the lungs’ linings. I was unknowingly exposed to asbestos when I was a child and 30 years later that exposure became mesothelioma.
My first thoughts were about my baby, not me. The news was hard to bear at the doctor’s appointment – I was told I had 15 months to live if I did nothing. I thought of Lily; I looked at my husband; I thought of the two of them living a life without me. I knew I had to do whatever it took to save my life, for myself and for them.
Mesothelioma has a grim prognosis, so we chose the most intense form of treatment we could. My husband and I flew to Boston to seek treatment with one of the best mesothelioma doctors. On February 2, I had surgery to remove my left lung and all of the surrounding tsissue, an extrapleural pneumenectomy.
I spent the next 18 days recovering from the surgery in the hospital, followed by two additional months of further recovery. I then started chemotherapy, and then radiation-- all of this as a new mom.
We could not have done all of this if we didn’t have the support of our village– the family and friends who surrounded us with love, support, and prayers. People, who we would not have expected, came to support us, while some we did expect support from, fled. The funny thing about this cancer is it really helps to weed out those who will be there from those who will not.
Lily stayed with my parents while we were in Boston. My parents, in this short amount of time, went from being new grandparents to becoming full-time parents to Lily.
It was amazing to see a village of support come together to help them care for Lily. The girls is used to babysit when I was a teenager – now married with their own children – volunteered to babysit Lily while both my mom and dad worked their full-time jobs. People I grew up with in church surrounded my parents with support and love.
While in Boston, we made new friends who shared the same cancer experience with us. This is how we managed to get through each day, with the support and love of the people around us.
Back home in my native South Dakota, my baby girl graduated to eating food and learning how to scoot and roll around. I had to witness her growth and development, though, through sketchy black and white copies of the pictures my mom emailed to me and my husband managed to print at a community printer. The nurses looked forward to seeing the new pictures, as I did, and we all tried to not cry. Lily was the reason for my treatment– she was the reason I decided to fight for my life.
As a family now, we try to embrace all that life gives us, because we know how fragile it is. My favorite quote is, “life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death.” Cancer is a funny thing– with the bad comes a lot of good. With my dire diagnosis, a whole lot of good came from it, and for that, I am thankful.
Heather Von St James is a 43-year-old wife and mother. Upon her diagnosis of mesothelioma, she vowed to be a source of hope for other patients who found themselves with the same diagnosis. Now, over 6 years later, her story has been helping people all over the globe. She continues her advocacy and awareness work by blogging, speaking and sharing her message of hope and healing with others. Check out her story at the Mesothelioma Cancer Alliance Blog.
Monday, 2 July 2012
The Zen Wisdom of Kids
I love the way that kids ask you those simple questions about the meaning of life. We were driving along in the car when Big Sister, who is four, asked Daddy,
"What is soul?"
"Well, it's a religious thing really," he began to explain. The Doctor is a passionate athiest.
"I think of it like your personality," I said. "Who you really are, how you feel inside."
There was a pause while she contemplated this. Then she said,
"I feel like Amelia inside."
Amelia is her best friend. We laughed, but I can see what she means. We have lots in common, so on the inside I feel a bit like my best friend. Perhaps a part of me is just like my own best friend.
Who do you feel like inside?
Wednesday, 6 June 2012
Introducing The Little Wish Friends
![]() |
| A bedroom with flowers and castles. |
My daughter has little wish friends; lots of them. One is
bigger than the sun. One is smaller than a threadworm egg. They sleep beside
her in bed and she says they help her to be a good girl.
“One of my little wish friends is called Alfie, and he knows
everything in the whole world so he is even more gooder than me.”
New wish friends are introduced all the time. There is an
invisible dog called Frank and he is on a very long lead. She also has an invisible
cat called Safety Cat, who can go in the canal and swim underwater.
“I wish I had an invisible cat.”
“You can share mine,” she said.
One evening, after her bedtime story I said,
“I’ll leave the fairy lights on so the fairies can see their
way in here.”
My daughter gasped and looked over my shoulder.
“Here they come now! Some of my little wish friends are a
family of fairies. The little boy is called Frankie, the little girl is called
Poppy, the mum is called Pippa and the dad is called Joshua.”
“Oh! I thought the fairies didn’t come until after you were
asleep.”
“No, they come before I am asleep
so they can look after me.”
The next morning I asked her if
her little wish friends had looked after her that night.
“Yes, my little wish friends do
two things. They look after me, and they also make my wishes come true.”
“What do you wish for?”
“Well, I wished for a bedroom
like mine with flowers and castles, and I wished for a lovely mum like you and
a lovely dad like Daddy and all of my wishes came true!”
“Can I have some little wish
friends?”
“No. They are just for four year
olds.”
“Where did you get them?”
“In a charity shop.” She pauses,
and then whispers, “Can I tell you a secret? They are just pretend. If you
dream them tonight then tomorrow you will have little wish friends.
What would you wish for?
Saturday, 2 June 2012
#StopTheKilling
Writing is not normally a problem for me. I write a lot, and when I start I can't stop. But words fail me when I think of what is happening in Syria. I'm only one small person and sometimes it's easy to feel powerless faced with things you wish you could change. But I do have one small blog which is a "voice" on the internet.
So I will say this. Last week 49 babies, toddlers and children were killed in Houla.
On 1st June the UK parent blogging community united to call for action in Syria. After I read about it I wanted to add my voice.
Add your voice.
Join the protest at The Syrian Embassy in London on Sunday 10th June 12 - 2pm.
So far 84 parent bloggers have added their voices by blogging about this. If you want more details of what is happening there try reading Luci's post at Mother.Wife.Me. It moved me to tears. I tried to hide them from my own small children who sat near me, safe in our home.
Tuesday, 22 May 2012
Have you heard of Boat-MumsNet?
Ok, so there's no such thing and
if I created it I don't suppose it would have many members. But thanks to my
blog I have met a few other boating mums like Joanne: So Joanne and I created a
Facebook group called Boat Families.
It's a
place to share advice and knowledge relevant to parenting on board: From
"Can I have a homebirth?" to "Where's my nearest canal-side pub
with play area?" Ask questions, share photos, post events.
This group is mostly for families already living afloat. If you are considering moving onto a boat, the Residential Boat Owners' Association publication "Living Afloat" is an excellent guide to the practicalities. You can buy it at http://www.rboa.org.uk/merchandise. You might also like The Boatshed Guide to Living Aboard (free) and my own ebook "NarrowboatFamilies" which is also free.
This group is mostly for families already living afloat. If you are considering moving onto a boat, the Residential Boat Owners' Association publication "Living Afloat" is an excellent guide to the practicalities. You can buy it at http://www.rboa.org.uk/merchandise. You might also like The Boatshed Guide to Living Aboard (free) and my own ebook "NarrowboatFamilies" which is also free.
As we
are appealing to a very small audience, I don’t suppose many of my readers
are parents on boats. However, if you are, and you’re out there and you’re
reading this, then know this much: you are not alone!
Apology
to Mumsnet: I have edited your logo for comedy and entertainment purposes. I
will not be using this ‘logo’ commercially at any point. I hope this is ok. For
parents everywhere, I recommend Mumsnet for parenting advice, product reviews and
more.
UPDATE: When I first had babies on board I was so lonely; continuously cruising without a community around me. So I started this blog to describe our adventures. Now the Boat Families Facebook Group has nearly 700 members! It has become a wonderfully supportive place full of valuable information... and I don't feel so alone! - Peggy (July 2018)
UPDATE: When I first had babies on board I was so lonely; continuously cruising without a community around me. So I started this blog to describe our adventures. Now the Boat Families Facebook Group has nearly 700 members! It has become a wonderfully supportive place full of valuable information... and I don't feel so alone! - Peggy (July 2018)
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