by Shaula Bellour (Indonesia) | Jul 18, 2013 | Childhood, Communication, Family, Grandparent, Indonesia, Relationships, Shaula Bellour, Twins, Uncategorized, USA
Out of the blue, my daughter recently asked “Mommy, who is your Daddy?” “My Daddy is Grandpa”, I said. “Do you remember him? We visited him in the desert.” “No, Mommy. Can we go to the desert again, so I can remember him?”
This breaks my heart.
Growing up, I always had a close relationship with my Dad. We are kindred spirits in many ways, and he has had a big influence on the shape of my life.
When I was 14, my parents separated, and my Dad moved to San Francisco. I loved visiting him there and experiencing the world beyond my suburban life – touring the city together while he listened, offered perspective and treated me like the adult I was becoming. After my friend backed out of our planned graduation trip to France – my first overseas experience – my Dad encouraged me to go by myself. Buoyed by his confidence, I took the leap…and thus began my traveling life.
Over the years he expressed only enthusiasm for my far-flung travel plans and showed up to philosophize over wine in Paris and fresh roasted coffee in Eritrea. Between adventures (and sometimes jobs), his home was a welcoming safe haven.
I always thought my Dad would make a wonderful grandfather. He is a gifted storyteller, seems to know everything about everything and even has a Santa Claus look about him – white hair, smiling eyes and a jovial laugh.
However, until now he has played a very hands-off role in my children’s lives.
In the years after the twins were born, we visited each other a handful of times. As a new mom, I had less time for keeping in touch – and my adventure tales were decidedly less riveting – but he was still just a phone call away, and I often took advantage of my rare alone time (usually while walking the dog) to give him a ring.
After moving to Asia 3 years ago, communication has dwindled. These days we might get an occasional email, but there are no skype chats, phone calls, letters, or birthday presents to unwrap. When you live far away from family, these are the things that keep us close – the quick IM exchanges, silly video chats, emailed notes and drawings, and slightly dented packages with exciting postmarks.
Luckily, my Mom and my British in-laws make a great deal of effort to keep in touch and up to date on our daily lives, which I am so grateful for. Our kids know, love and miss them and it’s a joy to watch their relationships grow and thrive despite the miles between us.
Three out of four grandparents isn’t bad, yet, I still feel disappointed by the Grandpa gap in our lives.
Everyone is missing out ,and I feel sad that my fantastic kids don’t know my equally fantastic Dad and that he doesn’t know them. Ultimately, though, their grandfather-grandchild relationship belongs to them. I can encourage this special bond, but I can’t create their connection or force them to know and love one another.
I also feel disappointed in my Dad’s hands-off role in my own life since having kids. Just because I am now a parent doesn’t mean that I don’t still need my own parent. Though I’m now living in the big wide world that he encouraged me to explore, all of the same advice applies. And sometimes I still need it.
In a few weeks we will drive our little family to the desert to visit my Dad for the first time in 2 years.
My hope is that my Dad and my children will have time to get to know each other and create some special memories during our short visit. For myself, I hope to reconnect with an open heart and commit to communicating better going forward.
Life is simply too short.
How do you maintain relationships with family when living far away? Has your relationship with your parents changed since you became a parent?
This is an original post to World Moms Blog by Shaula Bellour in Jakarta, Indonesia. Her blog, Notes From a Small World, is currently on hiatus but she promises to return to blogging soon.
Photo credit to Kihoon Park. This photo has a creative commons attribution license.
Shaula Bellour grew up in Redmond, Washington. She now lives in Jakarta, Indonesia with her British husband and 9-year old boy/girl twins. She has degrees in International Relations and Gender and Development and works as a consultant for the UN and non-governmental organizations.
Shaula has lived and worked in the US, France, England, Kenya, Eritrea, Kosovo, Lebanon and Timor-Leste. She began writing for World Moms Network in 2010. She plans to eventually find her way back to the Pacific Northwest one day, but until then she’s enjoying living in the big wide world with her family.
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by Roxanne (USA) | Jun 21, 2013 | 2013, Childhood, Education, Kids, Milestones, Motherhood, Parenting, Preschool, Rox is Brilliant, School, Unintentionally Brilliant, USA, World Moms Blog, World Motherhood, Younger Children
Earlier this month I attended my son’s graduation ceremony. He looked so handsome in his bright red cap and gown, smiling proudly at all he has accomplished. He clutched his little blue diploma when they called his name, and I was overcome with emotions that felt out of place. Especially considering the fact that my son had just finished Kindergarten.
Literally. (more…)
Roxanne is a single mother to a 9-year-old superhero (who was born 7 weeks premature), living in the biggest little city and blogging all about her journey at Unintentionally Brilliant. She works as a Program Coordinator for the NevadaTeach program at the University of Nevada, Reno. Roxanne has a B.A. in English from Sierra Nevada College. She has about 5 novels in progress and dreams about completing one before her son goes to high school.
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by Maman Aya (USA) | Jun 14, 2013 | 2013, Being Thankful, Cancer, Childhood, Exercise, Health, Kids, Motherhood, Older Children, Running, Social Good, USA, World Motherhood, Younger Children
In early April I decided to step way outside my comfort zone and do something that I never thought I would do. I decided to run a race! I told you about my decision to run this 10K when I first wrote about it. It turned out to be a harder goal than I thought! Every Saturday morning, the Moms In Training team met in various parks around the city.
My group met in Madison Square Park with an amazing trainer, Meri of Mommy and Me Fitness, who had an hour-long workout prepared for us. We walked, jogged, ran circles in the park. We did squats, lunges, planks, jumping jacks, push-ups and other concoctions that she would throw at us. We worked hard, and had fun while doing it!
Lindsey, a fellow Mom In Training, described the way I felt very well when she wrote about her experience with Moms In Training, “Somehow I left my comfort zone behind and decided to join. With the help of a wonderful trainer, Meri, and the support of the other moms, I trained for the 10K. On the day of the 10K, I was joined by another mom who stuck with me through the entire race and definitely kept me running WAY longer than I thought I would or could.” (more…)
Maman Aya is a full-time working mother of 2 beautiful children, a son who is 6 and a daughter who is two. She is raising her children in the high-pressure city of New York within a bilingual and multi-religious home.
Aya was born in Canada to a French mother who then swiftly whisked her away to NYC, where she grew up and spent most of her life. She was raised following Jewish traditions and married an Irish Catholic American who doesn’t speak any other language (which did not go over too well with her mother), but who is learning French through his children. Aya enjoys her job but feels “mommy guilt” while at work. She is lucky to have the flexibility to work from home on Thursdays and recently decided to change her schedule to have “mommy Fridays”, but still feels torn about her time away from her babies. Maman Aya is not a writer by any stretch of the imagination, but has been drawn in by the mothers who write for World Moms Blog. She looks forward to joining the team and trying her hand at writing!
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by Sarah Sensamaust | Jun 12, 2013 | Africa, Child Care, Childhood, Cultural Differences, Family, Home, Living Abroad, Motherhood, World Motherhood
Look for Congo on any list ranking quality of life, poverty rate, violence per square meter, etc. and we don’t fare well. Great place to raise a kid, right?
Well, actually, for us, yes.
My friend Jill is my neighbor, co-worker and blogging partner on our blog Mama Congo. We raise our children, along with our husbands, in the Democratic Republic of Congo. What we lack in first world standards, we make up for in mamas. Our children call at least 6 women “mama.” Maybe more depending on the day.
In the Congo every woman is called “Mama So-and-So.” I’m Mama Sarah, she’s Mama Jill, and the women who come to our homes everyday and help us raise our children are Mama Youyou, Mamicho, Mama Vida and Mama Nounou. That’s a lot of mamas between our two households.
My husband Adam and I moved to the Congo five years ago and Jill and her husband Johan moved in next door a little while later. Our children all run around together getting bit by mosquitoes while we call for them to return to their respective houses. It’s a great life; made possible mostly by our mamas.
Jill and I are about to travel back to the States to visit our families for the summer. We’ll spend time with the grandparents, show off the new tricks our kids can do, and indulge in all the food we can’t find in Congo. But sometimes it’s hard to leave our little “village” of women raising our children with us.
Sure we’ll miss their help, but what we mostly miss is how totally fun and wacky and sometimes completely puzzling it is to raise your kids with a Congolese woman by your side. For example, sometimes we’ll find the mamas up in a tree throwing fruit down to our kids. They yell in French, “Look out below!” As star fruit or bunches of bananas rain down.
Every now and then from my office window I’ll see them toting our children on their backs when their little legs are too tired to walk home from the playground. Even the smallest baby cries, “Au dos. Au dos,” (on your back) when she wants to hitch a ride.
I know that if my daughter hasn’t eaten enough of her breakfast, I’ll get an earful when Mama Youyou shows up. She examines the size of her belly, determines it’s not properly filled, and then coaxes her into eating more. Next she reminds me I need to keep my kids nice and fat so that if they get sick they’ll be okay.
When the kids do inevitably get sick, the mamas are the biggest worriers. I get that. Where we’re from in the States, children get sick and then they get better. Here in Congo, that’s not a guarantee. So everyone hovers and shakes their heads and carries them au dos all day while rotating cold washcloths on their foreheads. It’s a major production. And the children love it.
Sometimes people ask us if it’s hard to share that title of “mama” with others. It isn’t. It really isn’t! We feel like the luckiest mamas because our children are being raised in such a different and loving way. Sure, it took some time for everyone to adjust and learn their place in the household, but we’ve all got into a rhythm now. I hold this end, you hold that end as we wrestle their filthy bodies in the tub.
I think every mother can agree that raising your children with a lot of help, mixed in with doses of advice, and sprinkled with good old fashioned judgment to keep you on your toes, is a great way to be a mama.
Do your children have other “mamas” where you live? Who are they, and how do they help you?
This is an original post written for World Moms Blog by Sarah. You can find Sarah blogging with Jill at Mama Congo.
Photo credit to the authors.
by Mirjam | Jun 10, 2013 | Being Thankful, Childhood, Inspirational, International, Life Lesson, Milestones, Motherhood, Netherlands, Parenting, Preschool, School, Siblings, World Motherhood, Younger Children
It has been magical.
Waking up to the sound of a little person chatting.
Starting my mornings with a little person crawling in to bed with me, smiling at me, kissing me.
Carrying a child on my hips, making little ponytails, spoon feeding.
It’s been wonderful to watch the world through tiny eyes.
Eye opening to simply be and sing, laugh or dance on random occasions.
Eskimo kisses, random hugging, silly phrases, chasing and tickling.
It has been freeing to lie on the floor playing with toys; to walk down the streets filled with our fantasies.
Kissing dolls goodnight, searching the house for favorite stuffed animals, driving around singing silly songs.
It’s been heartwarming to be the funniest and smartest person alive, at least in your eyes.
The safest place is no longer exclusively with me.
You are going to school now.
You will spend a big part of the day in someone else’s care.
The world is no longer viewed from within my arm’s length.
Catch length, hug length, hold length.
I hold your hand as I take you to school on your first day.
You’re nervous, and you’re gripping my hand tight.
“Mommy, I’m shy.”
“Don’t worry, the teacher knows you are shy, and she will take good care of you.”
In the class room you spot your favorite activity. Your eyes sparkle with anticipation.
You join two other girls and they immediately start a conversation with you.
Our parting is hasty. You don’t have time for me.
There are colorful shiny papers that demand to be cut and pasted.
Hesitatingly I leave the room.
There are no tears, except maybe in my eyes.
There is no dramatic goodbye, as it should be on a big day like this.
As should be fitting, when you enter into a new era.
Outside I pause in front of the window with your father, hoping to catch your eye so I can wave.
Nothing. You are busy, all consumed with your new environment.
The teacher notices us and taps you on the back. We have to settle with a quick wave from you.
And that’s it.
Just like that my child is all grown.
My day is spent in confusion. I am absent, forgetful, and my eyes are teary.
I have the constant feeling that I’m forgetting something, someone.
At the end of the morning I’m relieved to go and pick you up.
I immediately know that you had a great time. It shows.
As we leave the schoolyard, I watch my oldest while he walks in front of me. He’s all long arms and legs and he is Mr. Cool himself. He is having a vivid conversation with his sister. When did they get so big?
I’m holding your hand. You’re by my side. Close to me. Suddenly you start to pull my hand, you want me to let go. Reluctantly I loose my grip and you run away from me, eager to follow your siblings.
The years I leave behind are truly wonderful.
And I know there is so much more to come.
But I hesitate, I try to hold on to this as long as I can.
Now that I still see traces of that toddler in you.
Now that I can still feel what it was like.
When you were completely mine.
This is an original, first post to World Moms Blog from our new writer in the Netherlands, Mirjam.
The photo used in this post is credited to the author.
Mirjam was born in warm, sunny Surinam, but raised in the cold, rainy Netherlands.
She´s the mom of three rambunctious beauties and has been married for over two decades to the love of her life.
Every day she´s challenged by combining the best and worst of two cultures at home.
She used to be an elementary school teacher but is now a stay at home Mom. In her free time she loves to pick up her photo camera.
Mirjam has had a life long battle with depression and is not afraid to talk about it.
She enjoys being a blogger, an amateur photographer, and loves being creative in many ways.
But most of all she loves live and laughter, even though sometimes she is the joke herself.
You can find Mirjam (sporadically) at her blog Apples and Roses where she blogs about her battle with depression and finding beauty in the simplest of things. You can also find Mirjam on Twitter and Instagram.
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by Meredith (USA) | May 31, 2013 | 2013, Adoption, Childhood, Family, Infertility, Kids, Motherhood, Parenting, Preschool, SAHM, School, Younger Children
I was watching my daughter play with a bubble machine today. She and I were laughing as she was running through the bubbles, and we were both looking at the bubbles floating up to the sky trying to see different images. I looked over at her as she watched the bubbles drift away and she had the biggest, sweetest smile on her face. I wondered in my mind if she would remember this extra special ordinary day because I knew I was making an imprint of it in my own mind…these special moments with just the two of us in the middle of the day in the middle of a week are starting to slip through my fingers… (more…)
Meredith finds it difficult to tell anyone where she is from exactly! She grew up in several states, but mainly Illinois. She has a Bachelor of Science degree in Elementary Education from the University of Illinois at Champaign/Urbana which is also where she met her husband. She taught kindergarten for seven years before she adopted her son from Guatemala and then gave birth to her daughter two years leter. She moved to Lagos, Nigeria with her husband and two children in July 2009 for her husband's work. She and her family moved back to the U.S.this summer(August 2012) and are adjusting to life back in the U.S. You can read more about her life in Lagos and her adjustment to being back on her blog: We Found Happiness.
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