An excerpt from our book, Backyard to Backpack: A solo mum, a six year old and a life-changing adventure.
This early part of the book talks about the turmoil I was facing as I struggled with being a solo mum, trying to balance my work-life and my time with Emmie and dealing with stereotypes and struggling to fit into life in the burbs…and what made me change our direction.
It’s probably the only part of the book that’s not upbeat, but sets the scene for the changes to come. Find out where to buy it here.
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Being a solo mum brought more challenges than simply looking after Emmie alone, supporting us both financially and trying to get her dad involved in her life. I also found that, whether knowingly or not, many people look down on single mums.
Sometimes, friends would describe a woman condescendingly— ‘she’s a single mum’—and then look at me and hurriedly say, ‘Oh, but you’re different. You’re not like the other single mums.’ What was that supposed to mean? It made me feel terrible. I was still me, whether or not I had a partner. Why did it matter?
But I felt the judgement and it made me determined that Emmie and I would be just as good as everyone else—and that meant buying a house. Sadly, this meant selling my awesome city apartment, which I have always regretted. But when Emmie was two, I was able to buy a house with the money I got from the sale. Our ‘new’ home was old and drafty but it had a leafy backyard, was a ten-minute walk to the beach and you could barely hear the cars on the main road outside our windows. Best of all, it was ours.
Was it the right decision to stay in the Shire? Probably not, but I just needed to keep the cogs moving. Any movement was progress, no matter which direction I was going in.
It’s a parochial world, the Shire, a special place Aussie battlers still look out for their neighbours and the community, but it’s changed a lot from when I was growing up. People say you need your passport to get in here and once you make it in you never leave. It is kind of like that, and it can be comforting or suffocating. As much as I loved it, and the many kind, helpful and supportive people in this little world, I often felt like I couldn’t breathe. I felt constant anxiety from my relationship with Emmie’s dad, a nasty undercurrent of rumours in the neighbourhood and a general sense that I was being looked down on. Although we travelled a lot in Emmie’s short life —to Disneyland, Fiji, Barbados and Singapore—we had an old house and an old car, and I was a solo mum.
I was always coming up with a new plan to show everyone that I didn’t fit the stereotype they’d boxed me into. ‘I’ve decided to get a pool!’ I announced to the mums at Emmie’s soccer game.
‘We’re buying a new car!’ I told everyone the next week and started test-driving Jeeps and four-wheel drives, before sticking with my old Toyota Corolla, the most reliable old chunk of junk ever.
Then finally, ‘I’m getting a new kitchen!’ as I checked out my friends’ designer kitchens and picked their brains about considerations. A butlers’ panty! A serving window! Eventually, it expanded into quotes for a total house renovation.
But something always held me back, and I thank the universe for that. Maybe deep down, I worried that I would spend all that money and still feel the same unhappiness, but with nothing in the bank.
What I needed the most was more time with Emmie. We were hardly seeing each other. I was leaving for work before 7.00 am every morning and coming home after 8.00 pm at night. That’s not unusual if you’re in a corporate job or run your own business; most of us work long hours. But when you have a small child and you’re a solo parent, it’s just not good for your heart or your baby.
When Emmie was four years old, I switched her out of long day care to a centre that was smaller and closer to our home, but had limited hours. Someone had to cover the remaining hours while I was at work, but I worried about paying $25 an hour for a babysitter. I overheard a group of mums talking about hiring live-in au pairs and we had a spare room, so within weeks Coco, our first au pair, arrived from France. It was fabulous to have her with us. She—and later Viktoria from Germany—felt like a younger sister and it was nice to have someone else around. The girls got to experience life in Sydney, came on holidays with us, and just hang out with us like a little family. I trusted them completely.
All the while, I was working hard to earn money to buy things we didn’t need to show people that I was good enough, while trying to make more time to spend with Emmie. It was all counterproductive. No matter what anyone says, single mum or not, it is not possible to do it all, and we are denying ourselves valuable time with our families by trying to make it happen.
Then, in 2015, my friend George passed away. George and I had spent so much time together during the previous ten years, though a little less when we both had children and lived a few hours apart. She and her family had visited us in Cronulla, and we’d been up to stay with her, the kids running wild on the beach and around the lake near their house. Many of my best memories are with George. She had a huge appetite for adventure and was up for anything. The vision of her in a pink fleece running through a field with yaks is imprinted on my brain, and always makes me smile.
She loved traveling and was so much fun to be around, whether it was being dirty and freezing while camping in a tent by Khövghol Lake in Mongolia, lying on the couch watching her beloved Waratahs play rugby or running around on the beach with her gorgeous daughters. Before she got sick, we would chat on the phone almost every day as we drove to work. I never for a second thought she would not be in my life.
When she died, it broke my heart, and it became my catalyst for action. I was missing out on being with Emmie because of money, because of work. It wasn’t right, the way our life was. Emmie and I didn’t even know each other because we spent so much time apart. I was terrified I was going to die without showing Emmie anything except my back as I ran off to work each day. I had to change everything.
‘The most important thing is that you and Emmie are happy. What makes you happy?’ my friend Jenny asked one day, as we played with Emmie in the park. I was trying to figure out how to change my life to spend more time with her, which seemed impossible. ‘Being with Emmie and travelling,’ I answered quickly. It was that simple. ‘We’re at our best when we are travelling together. There’s no work to keep me away from her, and no deadlines or things we have to do. It’s just us having fun.’
‘Well, why don’t you just do that then? Go travelling together?’ Jenny asked.
I paused as my mind processed how absolutely simple and perfect this idea was.
‘Jenny . . . that’s it. Emmie and I can go travelling together through Asia. It’s friendly, it’s safe, it’s affordable. I’ll use my kitchen money to fund it and rent out the house. I think this is the way!’
I called Jacqui and filled her in. ‘I’m thinking of travelling with Emmie for a year. What do you reckon? Could it work?’ I asked, forming a plan as the idea started to sink in.
‘Of course!’ she said instantly, always my cheer squad. ‘You can do whatever you want. You just have to make it happen.’
It was an easy decision to use the money I’d saved to travel. I’d been trying to spend it for so long—on a pool, a car, a kitchen—and I never could. But now, I knew what the money was for. I reckoned that it would last me about a year.
For the first time in a long time, I was excited. A whole year together? What family wouldn’t dream of that? And that’s what we were—a little family of two, trying to find our way.
You can find our book on Amazon, Kindle, in bookstores, Booktopia and Book Depository – here are some links.