The funny side to life as a working single Mum. My stories of embarrassing escapades, toddler tantrums and great expectations.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Sunday, 31 May 2015
Woodland Warriors.
I've come to realise that i'm quite the outdoors type. A tomboy. A tree hugger. Since having Ethan, I've embraced this side of myself and, while I'm by no means an adventurer, I love getting grubby and down to earth in the woods or on the beach.
Ethan is a total nature kid. He loves bugs, trees and running wild and free. On Friday, we headed to Wat Tyler Park for Woodland Warriors, which is run by the extraordinary Tiffers, whose enthusiasm for nature is catching, for both children and adults of all ages.
We started by sitting in a circle learning about the various songs of different birds and even my 2 year old was interested, holding the different soft toy birds and listening to their songs. The rest of the session was spent on various activities, from bird mask making to swinging in the trees to building a bird nest and making bird feeders.
A highlight for me was making a clay bird with Ethan and the other families, which reminded me of David Almond's novel 'Skellig' and the freedom of his character Mina.
To end the morning, Tiffers lit an open fire for us to cook marshmallows over. Wearing a huge protective glove, Ethan cooked his marshmallow up, learning about fire safety along the way. It was a stunningly beautiful moment to share.
The whole event felt relaxed and yet structured, with a balance of learning and freedom. When helping an older girl to start her own fire the old fashioned way, Tiffers said 'I'm not telling you what to do, I'm just helping', which summed up the overall atmosphere.
I have a feeling William Blake would have more than approved of Woodland Warriors, with his philosophy of embracing the natural intelligence and creativity of children and the magic of our environment.
'How can a bird who is made for joy sit in a cage and sing?'
Wednesday, 20 May 2015
Dressing up games.
When we are children, we love to dress and make believe. My son loves all things pretend and all things fantastic; from superheroes to fairies to animals. Similarly, I teach many students who love to play at make believe, even as children. It seems to help them deal with their issues and, to be honest, sometimes being someone else feels like a better option.
This leads me to my coming weekend. Comicon. Comics. Cosplay.
I am a 30 year old woman, a Mum and a teacher and yet I'm so over excited putting together my catwoman cosplay for the weekend. For just a day, I can at least pretend to be catwoman. How cool is that? To most, probably not all that cool at all but to me, it really is.
In some way or another, don't we all pretend we are someone else? Someone more ideal? Not all the time, but just sometimes. If not for escape, then just for fun! Isn't it time we accepted that children have fun and that the ability to play is important and vital, in fact, to our humanity?
I love that cosplay is something I share with my friends and my son. We both love dressing up and acting, which is something to be celebrated. It isn't forced or fake and my son is surrounded by a wonderful menagerie of family and friends joining in with his fun. What a lovely tradition to continue on as he grows up.
Saturday, 16 May 2015
Living in the 'cliff.
I have now lived in and around Westcliff-on-sea for around 10 years and thought it was about time I gave this reliable old town of mine some respect.
Standing on my balcony, I can see the 'sea' if I lean over and to the left. I love it; for it may be a murky estuary but it's always been there. When I separated from my first husband just one year after moving here with him, I took a walk to the seafront for some peace and reflection. When I was in an awful relationship and suffered an unexpected miscarriage, I sat on the seafront with a cigarette, beer and the complete works of John Keats, trying to fathom what had happened. Later, while pregnant with my son and arguing with his Dad, I sat on the seafront in the cold, listening to the waves crashing and the boats rocking.
Now, while all of these are negative experiences in my life, I see the seafront of Westcliff as consistent, stable and calming. Through any trouble, I can escape to the seaside. Maybe this is rooted in a childhood of seaside holidays, a talent for swimming or the memory of watching 'The Little Mermaid' at the cinema with my Dad, my strong and sturdy Dad, who cried when Ariel's father set her free to be with her Prince. I'm not sure of the psychology behind it; there may not be any explanation. It just is.
Westcliff-on-sea has been the backdrop for some of my happiest memories, predominantly with my son. Playing on the beach for hours, seaside lunches with my Aunt and ice cream with my Mum. It's a tiny piece of holiday just outside my door. I've not even mentioned the number of shows I have seen at The Cliffs Pavilion and the close friends I have made here.
Some people may look at Westcliff and see drunks, druggies and depression. What I see is reality, community and home. Living here, I actually talk to my neighbours and local shopkeepers. We have a regular cafe, I have a favourite vintage store and it feels like home. It may be a little crooked and rough in places, but so is my life sometimes and that's more than ok with me.
Sunday, 19 April 2015
"Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair."
I came across this photo I had sent to a friend fairly recently; my son rubbing a rubber centipede into my hair, while I'm suffering with a horrible virus.
This is parenting.
Right here is the ugly truth of it. As always, this is not to say that I don't love being a Mum. I really do. It's just that this photo and moment are ridiculously funny, exhausting and amazing in equal measures. Why not share that?
Thursday, 20 March 2014
Fight fire with fire.
What happens when this dream is stolen? Do we die or are we just empty, still life carcasses? Active taxidermy, drowning in our own weakness and disappointment.
It has felt, at times, like my emotional circulation has been cut off. Calling it a barrier or guard doesn't even cover it. It is as though every ounce of want, need or belief in love has been burned. This is not to say that my life or happiness were lost in the fire, as they survived in my son. It is just that my previously undying belief in love and a relationship as a possibility genuinely formed a pyre, which was burning out in the distance. So far away, I could no longer taste the ash or feel the warmth.
I have recently come to realise that possibly, just possibly, the belief and desire had not been permanently destroyed. Maybe it had just moved further away and needs tempting from the flames. This is not to say that I am, by any means the naieve romantic of a past life. Is this sad? I'm unsure. All I know is that this slight lack of belief has provided and still is a procurer of protection. For that, I am thankful and it may remain in part.
I now feel as though the door of my centre of belief is ajar. Available to peek at for those deserving. To be able to honestly say that my openness has returned, if only partially, is almost new to me. As though this is a different form of availability and belief that in my past life.
Sometimes, an internal fire, wild yet equally tame is the counter action to the flames in the distance. An equal battle. Balanced perhaps.
Cliche as it is, they say fight fire with fire. If this is the case, then perhaps the pyre and ash can remain in the distance. Perhaps there is no need to burn out completely.
Tuesday, 23 July 2013
Magical.
Over the past year our not so little boy has gone from a 10lbs 13oz fragile (yes, really!) baby who needed nothing more than his parents, boobs and warmth to a walking, babbling and very funny toddler who goes to nursery, eats spaghetti bolognese and shares it with the cat! Twice this week already I have genuinely cried just watching him and thinking how truly magical the whole thing is. So much has changed and yet the centre is the same; that of our family. The three of us.
There are times when I've been exhausted, rundown and at the end of any patience I ever had but when I watch that silly boy waddle over to me, laughing, clutching 'That's not my monster' for me to read again I cannot help but feel blessed.
As he dances to the hot dog song, turning around with a toothy grin to check we are watching, I can't help but think of my life and where I have ended up. Really, I've ended up at the beginning. The beginning of a new life which we created, which I carried safely and which I bought into the world on a hot, steamy night in our little flat in Leigh, Florence and the Machine as our soundtrack.
I don't think it will ever cease to amaze me each time a new life enters the world. The potential in that one tiny person, who has no idea yet which lies before them. Adventure, love, sadness. They have all of this to come and have no idea where they will be heading.
As I gaze upon our first born now, his personality is clear, his tastes confident. Ethan likes beans, not carrots. Ethan likes 'Jake and the Neverland Pirates', not 'In the Night Garden.' Ethan likes attention and will NOT be ignored by anyone, even the old man on the bus. So, predominately, if he doesn't change much, Ethan is going to be a dramatic, farting buccaneer! Lovely stuff!
Seriously though, I am so blessed and feel I should never forget this. As parents we should never forget how lucky we are. There are women and men everywhere who can't have children or have lost children for all number of reasons. You've probably spoken to one of them without realising it. So next time someone gazes over at your family or giggles at your baby, they could just be being friendly or that gaze and giggle could be masking all kinds of pain we can only imagine.
Be kind to your friends with children; we all make different choices for different reasons. Be thoughtful of the kindness of strangers; it is wonderful. Be understanding of childless friends; they have their own problems which are no less important than yours as a parent.
Feel blessed. Everyday. However hard it can be.
I love you Ethan George Hadley. More than you will ever know. You are my inspiration in everything I do, my dream turned to reality and my greatest creation. One day I hope you read this blog (you'll be asking what the hell a blog is) and feel proud. I would have achieved everything as a writer if that day comes.
Also, I will apologise in advance for all the swearing Son. Bad Mummy.
Monday, 15 July 2013
Sun is shining...
To start off our sunny evening, a friend was very kind and gave Ethan and I a lift home from work. This also came with the added bonus of a cornetto! Now, if a cornetto doesn't get you in a summery mood, nothing will! Nothing says summer like cornetto. Literally nothing.
So, after a long day at work/nursery, the three of us headed down to the seafront, met some friends and enjoyed a cold drink with our toes dipped in the lush (if not slightly southend-y) sea! Sun shining overhead, it doesn't get much better and as we wandered along the seafront towards the beach side cafes you couldn't help but feel as though you really were on holiday.
Wearing a bikini and light sundress, hair pushed back it was impossible not to be overcome by the sound of the elements and the laughter of what could have been holiday makers. Ethan absolutely loved walking hastily along the beach and then the front, eagerly 'talking to' and tugging on every passer by, giving a cheeky grin and giggle as he went.
A grin so charming he gained chips and a lolly within minutes of sitting down for dinner! The fish and chips we ordered was fabulous and Ethan's fun continued with colouring, chasing dogs and even a visit to the restaurant kitchen!
I don't often do the 'proud Mummy' thing, even though Ethan makes me proud every single day but tonight I felt truly proud and realised how far we have come so far. Ethan is one of the most sociable children of his age I have seen and so open and trusting. He is desperate to explore and wants to be a part of every piece of action and every moment of life happening right now.
Ethan might be a handful but he is loving, friendly and enthusiastic. We can't ask for much more than that. When me and Charlie first met and dated we could only dream of what our future would hold and the reality is more hard work and more rewarding than we ever hoped of dreamed.
Talking of dreams, Ethan completely crashed out asleep in Charlie's arms on the walk home and went down in his cot with minimal fuss. Over two hours later and he's still there; asleep. Maybe a full day of nursery, followed by friends, sea paddling and exploring the world has finally tired Ethan out! Just maybe we may have cracked it and all it took was a little, or rather a lot of sunshine. I
Saturday, 6 July 2013
Missing out.
Now, I love my job but a lot of what we do outside 'normal' work hours is 'normal' in the profession. It's necessary in order to do our job well and there is no option of retesting less hours. The work needs to be done, kids need our help, the school needs us. That's it.
Probably, some of you will read this and think my Son needs me more and my priorities are wrong but what can I do? I need to keep my job in a difficult time and I need to earn my wage to pay the rent and bills. No option.
Its tough going though and I'm ashamed to admit that every Facebook update or conversation with friends who stay at home with their babies fills me with jealousy. When they tell me about the new things their child has learnt or funny things they have done it hurts. It's not their fault obviously and it is also lovely to hear their stories. I can't help but feel shit though that actually I don't know what my son has achieved this week, other than second hand from his nursery or my Mum. I'm lucky to have excellent care for Ethan while I'm at work and know he's happy but I'm still not there. I'm not the one holding his hand everyday. I'm not the one guiding him everyday.
Ethan is changing so rapidly and I'm missing out. I'm lucky to have the weekends and we will soon have the holiday but essentially I may as well not be here and come to visit for the summer. How sad is that?
Monday, 10 June 2013
Only a Mother knows.
From this I have been thinking back on what I really gained, learnt from my childhood and one thing prevails. Be yourself. It may sound cliche but my parents really did and still do accept me and my brother for who we are, who we want to be, who we can be. For myself, I feel incredibly lucky to have parents who have been welcoming and accepting to my friends and past boyfriends. They have always instilled in me a link between my life in and out of their house. My parents have always accepted my hobbies and ever changing aspirations with support but an equal amount of realism. Most of all, my parents have always been open and accepting of my love for the unusual, whether that be fashion, music or tattoos. Although, I should probably add here that it was my Mum who got me into Siouxsie and the Banshees and persuaded me to listen to Marilyn Manson as a Greenday bopping teenager!
My parents have always been interested in our hobbies, our tastes, our life which was great. My Mum and Dad would stand in the crowd of my gigs playing drums in shit indie bands and in my days as an angst ridden goth singer! They even made it to a goth night to watch me DJ and my Mum always made sure I had big pants and tights to wear under my mini skirt! As I say, I think this is what I take most from my childhood and adulthood really: openness and acceptance.
Having such open parents does make it hard fucking work to rebel though. See Mum, I said fuck!
Even in adulthood my parents put up with me going through an array of fashions and phases along with going out with some pretty dodgy characters, several house moves and the decision to undertake teacher training after just 6 months living solo working in London. They still accepted me home for a year to do my teacher training. After this my parents allowed and accepted me travelling to Ghana alone for the summer which, while a woman of 26, I can see now how harrowing this would have been for them. In particular for my Mother, watching me check in at the airport knowing that from that moment on I am alone in an unknown world, without her protection or care.
Being a parent never ends. Being a Mother doesn't stop when they are off your hands. It just gets more difficult, as you are forced to let them go and learn to accept and love a new person. This person still holds the core of your baby, your child but has changed under the influence of not just you but the world outside of you. When we live in a world as cruel as ours, its no wonder this ensues madness.
Monday, 22 October 2012
Diablo Jo's Rockabilly Accessories: Treats for Mamma and Bambino!
In writing this blog I realised I have missed one thing which is probably more important to me than I like to make out: fashion. To clarify, when I say fashion I mean unique and original ideas and creations which make you look and feel good, not TOWIE inspired dullness. I like to think that I am far too interesting and clever to be bothered about silly things like clothes, make-up and hair but the truth is I am a girl and I like pretty things! Like I say to the teenage girls I teach, there is nothing wrong with enjoying these things but this doesn't stop you being a creative, intelligent individual! My style, if you can call it that, varies between poetic bohemian (ha!) to indie comic book geek to 50s rock 'n' roll. The later of the three is my favourite look but the one I have always struggled with. To embody real 50s glamour you need to maintain yourself well, from your hair to your nails it works best when you make an effort. Sadly, I don't have great nails and wear my hair short. While I love having short hair and think it suits me, it doesn't quite fit the 50s chic look. Here is where the rock 'n' roll comes in!
While pregnant I came across some outstanding headscarves which provide the perfect solution to my hair woes. Designed to tie in a typically retro style headscarves come in a range of cute and kitsch designs, from classic flowers to edgy tattoo inspired skulls, each and every one stunning! Throughout my pregnancy and beyond I wear Diablo Jo's creations, not only to help on bad hair days but to make a simple jeans and t-shirt combo far more glamorous! Since finding Diablo Jo's I have found an array of wonderful hair accessories which are just beautiful but the latest addition to the range is 'Bambino Diablo' which includes fabulous pieces for your little rocker! The skirts for girls are gorgeous and I can imagine they would make any little girl look and feel amazing. As for the boys there is an inspired range of beautifully crafted bibs in the same designs as the headscarves. Designed to make your little dude look similar to a cowboy they hold so much more style value than the usual dribble catchers without losing their practical value.
These are two of my favourite designs from the Bambino range:
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| Anchors Away! |
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| Skulls and Roses! |
Wednesday, 17 October 2012
A lesson in poo-cabulary!
Recently Ethan had a bad case of trapped wind which nothing seemed to fix. It just stayed inside. After two days of praying to the Poo Gods we finally had action and it was everywhere! Honestly, my prayers were well and truly answered with that bad boy!
When comparing poo notes with another Mum I was introduced to her term for these poo explosions of a poo-nami! Brilliant! Poo-nami has possibly become my favourite of the poo-cabulary! It is simple, clever and funny with all the makings of a perfect play on words which I hope will one day be included in the Oxford English Dictionary.
Sadly, these poo-cabulary additions to the English Language will just have to stay here in my own personal Dictionary. For now at least.
Poo-cabulary:
Poo-aholic
1: one who feels compulsively the need to talk about poo.
2: one who likes studying and talking about poo to the excess.
Poo Gods
1: the Being perfect in power, wisdom, and goodness who is worshipped as creator and ruler of the universe
2: a being or object believed to have more than natural poo attributes and powers and to require human worship.
2: a being or object believed to have more than natural poo attributes and powers and to require human worship.
3: a person or thing of supreme poo value.
4: a powerful ruler of poo.
4: a powerful ruler of poo.
Poo-nami
1: a great wave produced especially by submarine poo movement or volcanic arse eruption.
Sunday, 23 September 2012
Lazy days, tattooing days and an impending birthday.
As I approach my 28th birthday tomorrow I realise it has taken me some time to reach the point where I am truly happy. Not drunk happy with false smiles, not plastic happy with forced hope, but happy. Smiling so the wrinkles show happy, wearing no make up and baggy PJ bottoms happy, really happy. I can credit this whole heartedly to my husband, who came out of nowhere and shook me into reality, our reality. If someone had told me that I would be sharing my 28th birthday with my 23 year old husband, who I sang Shania Twain to at our reception in a 50s diner while 16 weeks pregnant with our now 7 week old son I would have at least laughed out loud. Here I am though, laying in bed with the most straightforward happiness available; a wonderful husband and beautiful baby boy beside me. Nothing breeds smiles like days like these.
Just to clarify I am not knocking drunk happy. That can still be fun, even for a wrinkly Mummy like me!
I also sit here with a new tattoo to share. Yesterday as a birthday present we both went and had tattoos together. Charlie ended up having a disaster piece repaired, which we had created on a previous lazy Sunday pre-marriage, pre-pregnancy. I, however, am now the proud owner of a gorgeous pink and blue cupcake with 'Ethan' on the band. I am sure in years to come our son will find this highly embarassing and question what his arrival has to do with cakes! Mummy loves Ethan, Mummy loves cakes. Simple. While being tattooed yesterday the in laws looked after Ethan and he was perfectly behaved of course! This was the first time (other than an essential blood test) that I have been out without Ethan in tow and the first time me and Charlie have been out just the 2 of us since his birth. Some may find it strange but getting tattooed was the perfect way to spend this precious time as a couple. We have both always shared a love of tattoo art, Charlie is a tattoo artist himself and one of our first points of contact was when comparing ink. I can see more tattoo outings on the cards in the future.
My new tattoo by Darren at Thundertats, Leigh-on-Sea.
While being tattooed and chatting to the artist he said something which I have been thinking about since: 'a tattoo is the only thing you will take to your grave.' This may sound depressing but it made me reflect on our life and really consider how our family memories which will be tattooed on our hearts and sleeves are the only thing which matters. Do I care if we never afford to buy a house? Am I upset if we can't buy expensive clothes? Does material gain interest me? Not so much. I knew this all along but I think the impending birthday might be getting to me and making me realise that as I head closer to 30 I really haven't done too badly for myself!
Friday, 21 September 2012
Membership of the Mummy gang!
One of the most surprising things about pregnancy is the feeling of drifting away from your friends who don't have children, particularly those who are single or not living with partners. Throughout my pregnancy I somehow got it into my head that my close childless friends were excluding me from our social circle with no consideration for my feelings or current state. In fact our friendships were evolving. I was becoming a parent and that is at least a little scary for everyone involved!
Whereas before pregnancy me and my flatmate would think nothing of a cheeky vino to accompany a 'Glee' marathon, I was now necking pints of milk and popping packs of Rennie in a desperate attempt to cure my heartburn. Instead of sharing hangover days on the sofa together, I was feeling rough due to morning sickness. Rather than shopping for a little black number and heels for a night out I was simply searching for underwear and shoes which would actually stretch round my ever growing arse and feet. While I felt left out from the life I had previously led, I didn't once consider that my friends may have felt left out of my new life. I was changing before their eyes not only physically but emotionally and socially. I never considered that maybe this new version of me was a shock to my friends. Would they ever have things back the way they were or were we growing apart so far it was beyond repair?
As my flatmate is also one of my best friends I would like to add that we lived with her for the first 6 months of my pregnancy and I feel truly sorry for her! I cannot imagine living with a pregnant woman unless you are responsible for getting her in that state to begin with! It must have been frustrating, tiring and at times at least a little bit boring. However, for me at least, I feel incredibly blessed to have shared my pregnancy with her as the second she held our son and he heard her voice there was a clear connection unlike with other friends. Now I know that Ethan will build strong relationships with his surrogate Aunties and Uncles but with said friend it was as though he recognised her voice and had an awareness of who she is and that she is part of his world.
Close to the end of pregnancy we attended antenatal classes and I must admit I had never been too keen on the prospect of Mummy friends. To be honest, before the classes I was aprehensive as to how much I would have in common with these new potential friends beside the fact that we were all shagging at similar times. I couldn't have been more wrong. The second I arrived at the first class I realised I was desperate to meet new friends and a little bit nervous. Would they like me? Would they think my tattoos were weird? Would they see me as Mum material? As soon as I started chatting to the other women my nerves disappeared as soon as I found myself giggling discussing constipation and pile cream over a cup of tea. The thing was though, as I got to know these Mums more we began chatting about festivals, music, books, normality! Not surprisingly really these Mums were normal!
After the final class I went home so excited and feeling a bit of a geek at the prospect of new Mummy friends but then realised I have regressed back to school. What if they don't call? What if they meet up without me? What if they don't want to be friends? What if their baby doesn't want to be friends with my baby? Oh dear. When I received my first text from another Mummy, just as I was about to send one I was probably too excited. I had been accepted into an exclusive club of women, much to the amusement and piss taking of my husband. He spent some time quoting the 'friend, football friend' episode of 'The Inbetweeners' with 'friend, Mummy friend, antenatal friend.' He may have been taking the piss but he had a point.
Since having our babies the antenatal gang have been amazing! Supporting each other and laughing together, there is a real feeling of comradeship between the group which is a blessing, not only for me but for my non-baby friends. It means they are spared the cracked nipple and lack of sleep speeches and can just enjoy the bouncing and beautiful part of motherhood and regain a little bit of their friend back.
I underestimated the power of the Mummy gang until I became a part of one and would suggest all Mums to be get a membership to one sharpish! It stops you feeling totally mental and makes you feel more human, if only briefly. Never forget, Mummies are people too!
Friday, 3 August 2012
The Moth and The Chamber Pot.
I spent what I consider a considerable amount of time simply maneuvering myself out of the bath like something more reminiscent of a creature from some Japanese horror story of revenge and doom than the glowing earth mother I am in my mind. Having relaxed and feeling rather proud of managing to hoist myself from the bath I suddenly felt an onset of unusual pains. Embracing my inner big screen demon I wandered around a little, sat on the sofa, had a crack at bouncing on the exercise ball. Imagine if someone shagged one of the zombies from 'The Walking Dead' and got it pregnant then then left it to get on with it in an airy flat by the sea. Imagine a potential victim of Jeremy Kyle, who even he couldn't find the right synonym for 'scum' because, well, she's dead and trying to eat him. Now that would make daytime TV far more interesting but that's a whole other story.
Back to my toilet/moth story. Feeling tired after all that undead action I headed to my chamber pot only to find that even this would be a challenge to face. When will it stop? Still feeling unusual I reclined and realised nothing was happening down there, other than the original pain. I would apologise for too much information but if you didn't get a vibe for the subject matter from the heading I refuse to take responsibility for your lack of responsibility. Already uncomfortable, it was at this point I fell off the toilet seat, which appears to have broken somehow. Probably because of my massive arse or belly weighing it down. After 9 months it has just given up. Oh, the irony.
This pretty much covers the whole toilet fiasco, except for an uninvited guest. The moth. It may have been a tiny beast but it seemed determined to make my afternoon toilet adventure even more eventful. So, here I am at now over 9 months pregnant, in a bath towel, looking and acting like a zombie on the toilet. Falling off it, getting back on. Fighting a moth all the way through Read into that whatever metaphor you will. I am just wondering whether Beyonce was in the same boat as she prepared to head to the hospital floor she had rented with her millions.
Thursday, 2 August 2012
Yoga: not just for hippies.
I can see what you are thinking. This woman is clearly a hippy so how does this support yoga as anything other than a pretenious pastime for the peculiar?
When I fell pregnant I hadn't undertaken a sustained amount of yoga time in several months and felt it would be an easy way to stay active without working too hard! However, I really have found that it has provided so much more than an easy way to prevent myself from feeling like a total sloth. While continuing to work full time in a highly pressured and intense job with the usual pregnancy gripes it was the only time I really experienced real relaxation. Whether this is simply because of the focus on movement, careful breathing or simply the quiet time to switch off I would suggest everyone should try it at some point, pregnant or otherwise. I also suggest doing so with the door shut with no risk of interruption to save yourself any hippy shame!
Right, I know that was a quick one but having completed my afternoon yoga session it is about time I headed off for some green tea and chick pea curry!
Tuesday, 31 July 2012
My Ghana experience.
I have always had an urge to volunteer doing something worthwhile with my time and energy. It was only once I became a Secondary English teacher here in the UK that an opportunity arose with a Ghanaian organisation. My trip to Ghana was my first flight alone, first trip alone and first adventure alone. When I reached Ghana I soon realised you are never alone; you always have friends and family. Whether this is through the wonderful children in Santrokofi, the amazing Agnes or volunteers and local friends you meet there is always someone to talk to! Once at The Living Faith Orphanage I was struck by how easily I was embedded in day to day life with the children. Every child at the orphanage is a pure joy to be with and I feel privileged to be able to hold them in my mind and heart.
Soon after my arrival at the orphanage a group of RHF volunteers arrived and immediately I felt welcomed into their family. I was due to leave for another project on my own but couldn’t bear to leave the children and just had a feeling that these volunteers were who I was meant to be with in Ghana. From the happiness I saw in the children when we took them to the park or read them stories to the support we gave each other in private times of emotion I truly feel that I have gained not only memories and experience from the children of Ghana but friends for life in the RHF volunteers. While at the orphanage I formed a close bond with Mambra, a girl who for unexplained reasons seemed to connect with me. I remember her asking me not to leave and the urge I felt to be able to return to Ghana and maintain my link with the children. When we moved on to teach at the school in Santrokofi I found that my teaching experience and understanding of children was a mixture of incredibly useful or totally useless! I was able to teach with freedom, creativity and most of all love. One of my greatest memories is of using music to encourage students to consider their personal feelings and it was amazing to see them go from being apprehensive to reflective of their own emotions and thought processes. We ended the lesson by taking the class outside as it was incredibly hot and it was unreal to see the class dancing and laughing to ‘You got the love’ by Florence and the Machine; a song which sums up Ghanaian love to me.
Beautiful Mambra.
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