Women's Day

Today, March 8th, is International Women's Day. I have shared, posted and tweeted about it on my work social media platforms. I have also commented on a couple of posts on my personal Facebook pages. This may turn out to be the most personal blog post I have ever written. Even though it may appear that I share some very personal information, I always write with awareness of what I am prepared to make public. I am also very careful not to be critical of people I know. As some of you know, I have three wonderful children. All three were born at home, two in Manchester and the youngest in Bakewell. My second husband is the father of my older two, and that marriage broke up when I met the father of my youngest, who also claimed to have had a vasectomy. I was incredibly fortunate to be able to arrange home births for all three, with fantastic care on the NHS. The midwives who looked after me before, during and after those births were thrilled and excited to be involved. Not everyone wants a home birth, but it was really important to me. I was especially lucky because I was considered an older mother at 30 when I had my first. I officially became a single parent just before my youngest child's third birthday. A few alarm bells, but no real warning signs. My oldest was just about to start secondary school. I had a part time job and worked as a homoeopath and reflexologist on a self employed basis. I had some child care arranged for my youngest, but not enough to cover my work commitments. I had to drop weekend and evening appointments, give up a practice room. I can remember feeling almost hysterical as he drove off, in my car, into the distance. It lasted about ten minutes and then I had to work things out. I know I cried a lot over the next couple of weeks, but that was the shock. My next door neighbour, a very good friend and my mother came and helped, taking it in turns to cover my part time working week. When I read criticism of single parents on benefits, or read about government schemes to get women back to work, I wish they knew what it was like to juggle home, work, children and the rest. It only takes one of the family to be ill or off colour and the whole careful balancing act tumbles. And then there are the school holidays. I found myself helping out friends in the holidays or after school because I had no choice but to be organised for all eventualities. Then my parents moved to Bakewell. Halcyon days. The older two got older. They were an enormous help. Then my parents got older. New worries and concerns. As the years went by I shifted what I did and how I did it to fit round my family commitments. I even did a part time MA. My younger sister took my youngest on holiday with her to give me a long weekend to write up my thesis. That's all it takes sometimes. Last month I went for an interview for a one year, lowly paid post. The interviewer,a woman, asked me if my varied CV indicated a lack of focus. I was too shocked by the question to respond as I would now. I started to explain about the shifts in child care and responsibilities that had taken me from part time and flexible self employed work, to full time but unsocial hours, back to part time and then full time again. What I should have said is that it showed that I was fully focused on balancing my responsibilities to my family and myself. I have had help from unexpected sources and a complete lack of support from some I would have expected it from. I never dreamt in my wildest nightmares that I would bring up a family in this way, with such single minded responsibility. It is a credit to my children that they made it the rewarding and fulfilling experience it has been. The friends and family who have helped along the way have also been a huge part of that. Like the fridge magnet says ' you can't scare me, I have children'.