And right now, I wasn’t in any hurry to meet another man. It didn’t feel time yet. Jonny’s soul still danced too near me in the shadows: just out of reach. I didn’t want him to leave forever yet.

I hoped I’d know when and if I was ready to let go.

The Struggling Mama Blog

Welcome all, and all are welcome to my brand-new blog! Great to see you: I’m super-excited to be here and can’t wait to share some of the trials and tribulations of the truth behind parenting with you all!

Firstly though, as you may have heard on the Northgate grapevine, the reason there’s a blogging space is that we’ve just lost perfect Iced Gem mummy Jan Vermaak to distant climes.

You may have seen Jan was nominated for a prestigious blogger award in January, for her piece about racism in schools, except she didn’t win. For those of you mourning her loss, well, there are some just desserts being served because it turns out, shock horror!!!! – Jan was behind some truly heinous online bullying amongst the mummy blogger community!

Yep, sadly it’s ALL true. Jan and family have returned to South Africa, following her husband’s apparent promotion. Jan’s taken her girls back to Jo’burg, removing charming little Audrey from Northgate Primary. So at least Audrey can’t call our local kids any more names.

In other news: exciting to hear that Melissa, our ex-resident yoga teacher, has settled in well on the East Kent coast, and might be sharing more news of her own soon. I’ll let you know when I know!

In the meantime, I’ll sign off today with a particular note I want to share with any of you struggling with new parenthood. I know I did when I had my longed-for son – and so let me just say this slowly: Motherhood isn’t always the all-encompassing joy you might have imagined it was going to be – and that’s OK.

‘You can’t be good at everything,’ my dear husband Ish reassures me on a bad day. It’s not failing to feel frustrated, bored or irritated sometimes.

It’s normal to need help.

Please, do ask for it: don’t suffer alone.

And also: word to the wise: if your small boy comes home boasting of learning about his Balzac, don’t be fooled into thinking he means the French writer, as I was, when in fact he means his own ball-sack. Pride so often comes before a fall.

Signing off for now, have a good day as us Aussies say 🙂

Yours, Lena.

Epilogue

MELISSA

The day I’d left London, I let myself into Rex’s house for the last time; a house that had never really felt like home.

I’m not sure I’d ever really lived anywhere that had. Moving on was always easier than staying.

‘Ants in your pants, girl,’ the bloke at the last care home used to say, before he tried to get into mine himself.

I shoved my stuff into the boot of my car, any old way. Riding a wave of fear and adrenaline, I had to keep going or risk utter wipeout: a bit like a pro-surfer.