39 years and 7 months

that's how long it took me to achieve everything I wanted in life.

I plodded along from the age of 21 till I was 28, unhappy with my lot, dead end jobs, no degree.

After leaving school and college I spent 3 strange years working for SCOPE in a residential unit. I was 18 when I got there and my salary paid for trips to London to vist friends, drinks in the pub, new/nice/designer clothes, TV and stereo equipment. No plans for the furture, just getting by enjoying being a teen, the lask of a boyfriend was an issue as all my mates had one and it did make social occassions a bit awkward. But then it all happened and I got pregnant, gave birth at 21, moved home as a single mum and then the struggle began.

I always worked, I started studying, City and Guilds, NVQs, even started my teaching degree. I worked maily in care and even in a chip shop to make ends meet. I married had 2 more children and lfie just seemed not to be going anywhere for me. The jobs I did, I did well and I knew I could do better. I got involved in Youth work, I volunteered with Venture Scouts, I worked unsociable hours to fit around my family life, I drove a beaten up car, lived hand to mouth, but I wanted more, I always did and I still do.

There is nothing wrong with wanting more and working hard for it, I just need a kick up the arse.

I met my husband and inherited his 2 kids and a messy divorce and my life got put on hold for 3 years, we then married and moved away, not far, and we started afresh with the 5 children, it was hard work, but quality of life improved and while hubby travelled with work, building his career and salary, I started my studies, joined the PTA, got involved with the local football club, net worked and made friends. I worked as a nanny for two years, I supported children in school with autism, I worked in a local secondary school and I studied on top of that, until finally I got a job as a lecturer at the local college, teaching life skills, managing finances, customer service, training adults to work as teaching assistants and finally securing my first step on the career ladder working for the local FA as a child welfare officer.

I continued to study for the next two years, we now only had 3 children at home, I networked, I took over with the running of the football club. I got to work away and stay in hotels on occassions, finally craving some me time.

For the first time in 39 years and 7 months, I was happy for me. I've always been content with my family life and the kids, little darlings that they are and yes we've had many and our fair share of ups and downs, but it took me along time to gain something for me.

January last year, it all stopped, abruptly, overnight when we moved here. This time however I don't know what to do to get it all back. I can't work due to government restrictions, I don't have the freedom for wandering around and joining in things, especially as most expat group members work so all events are evenings and that means driving in the dark, which living here is not the wisest of ideas.The 2 remaining kids are 13 and 17 so hardly going to the park or bumping into other people with kids which is always a good way of making new friends.

So I need to find a way of reinventing myself, of discovering who/what I really am when I'm away for the social norms that I grew up with.

You go to school...yep done that, you obtain higher qualifications...yep done that also...you marry, have kids, get some me time, spend time with your partner as the kids get older, have holidays togther, prepare slowly and wind down for retirement.

But does anyone have any ideas as to what I can fill my time with between now and retirement age please? for the next 19 years and 5 months.

Every FIRST is the worse.

On Twitter, Facebook, Mumsnet and Britmums there’s lots of talk about ‘My Child’s first day at school.’ Some are coping, some are relieved and some are just upset.
Amongst all of this talk there was a status update from my son on facebook, that read.
‘I left home a year ago today’
I’d forgotten.
But I do remember how that day a year ago felt; I’ve forgotten his first day at school. Did I cry? Was I worried? Did he have everything he needed? Would he miss me/be ok?
It’s all gone now, but is there is how I felt when he left home aged 18 to move 120 miles away, worried about whether he’d come home in a few weeks, would he come for visits, or would we be just forgotten about?
I’d helped my son leave home as I’d done with my step son 3 years earlier, prepared them for getting a job with prospects, supported them both through school, GCSEs, college applications etc, taken them for job applications after helping them with their CV’s.
But nothing actually prepares you or them for the moment they leave.
‘I don’t want a fuss mum, I’ll pack my own stuff, will be back in the morning, I’m off out to say bye to my mates,’ arriving home the following day at 12pm, looking tearful, but denying there was a problem. Jeep seats folded and car overloaded and off we set.
A good journey, quite quiet, stopped for lunch, my treat (always is) arrived at destination. Son goes to fetch the keys while I try to park, impossible, so everything off loaded onto the street, I re park and I’m made to stand guard while son goes in to inspect his new home.
‘I’m not staying here, take me home’
‘What...?’ and on closer inspection I see why,’ OK we can clean, I’ll help.’ ‘No, Mum it’s disgusting’
So my son who doesn’t need me anymore, ‘just dump my stuff and leave me I’ll be fine’ attitude has changed. I drag his boss over to the house, he’s saying to me its shared accommodation madam, it’s bound to be untidy. That was until I showed him the toilet that had been leaking for so long had caused the kitchen ceiling to give way and the waste water was dripping onto the units, the freezer where the door wouldn’t shut, the fridge that Kim and Aggie would have been delighted to have swabbed and the thick dust and grease that coated every surface in the house.
Apologies made, a cleaning crew will be sent in, in two days.
Not good enough, so instead of a new uniform with labels hand sewn, this required a trip to a supermarket for cleaning equipment so I could return home alone and leave my son to start his new life.
House cleaned, provisions bought, junk furniture removed from room (Son set his TV up while I was cleaning) and one last trip to the supermarket for son to buy a small tool box.
I left him in the car park. ‘I want you to go now mum’ and he got out the car and walked off. I sat and cried and it took me an hour to compose myself to drive. I managed 7 miles before I hit the services and sat and cried some more.
Little did we know that within 2 weeks we’d be asked to move to South Africa and be gone within 4 months, he came to visit us in March, I went to visit him in July and every time we both cry. We don’t do parting very well.