Mums' Days

Mums' Days

We All Need an Example

Mother's Day - Cafe 88 - Mt. Maunganui

I've been thinking about the mothers we've visited around the world: Moms in France, Ireland, London, Luxembourg, Switzerland, South Africa, Australia, and New Zealand. I've sat at their dining tables, slept in their guest rooms, eaten their food, ridden in theirs cars and hopped buses and trains with them. I've picked their brains, vented frustrations and sipped a bottle of wine or 4. I've watched, listened and learned from these women. How do they discipline their kids? Who cooks the meals/cleans the house/does the laundry/watches the children? Do they work full-time/part-time/overtime only at home? I've witnessed all the above. These moms reside in happy marriages, troubled unions, the land of post-divorce, widowhood and separation. While each friend has a different way of organizing her family's life, she shares a common trait with other moms: fierce love for her children. Want to break the ice during your next domestic or international gathering? Ask a mom about her kids.

We just celebrated Mother's Day in New Zealand (It falls on the second Sunday in May, same as the States). I spent much of the day with another American mom (we're called "mums" here) and her daughter. Actually, this mum and I spend heaps of time together, since we're flatmates (roommates in American English). I learned about Amy after calling her organization in February to ask about a new migrant support program. The woman who answered the phone said,l"You should talk to our CEO. She's American" (as if all Americans abroad want to meet each other. That said, there's a unifying thread in sharing a country, an accent, culture, love of popcorn and graham crackers). Yes, I did want to meet this American. I felt I knew Amy immediately, which I've discovered is part of the ex-pat experience – it's easy to feel connected to others who call (or used to call) your home country theirs, too.

I met Amy and her 4 and-a-half-year-old daughter, Blythe, at Starbuck's in downtown Mount. We later took our kids to the beach, where I told her I was searching for a new place to live. She (a single mum) said she was seeking a flatmate. I hadn't considered rooming with someone for longer than a month, but I sure had experience as a live-in . The kids and I are nearly professional house guests, having bunked with friends and family from Michigan, to Florida, to Northern Ireland to South Africa and points in-between. I'd be an utterly charming, easy-care guest if it weren't for 2 small bundles of big noise: 7-year-old Fiona and 5-year-old Finley. Finn, especially, causes me grief in others' homes. He has 2 volumes: loud, and louder (although Amy's working with him on volume control).

Nevertheless, I decided to try "flatting" for 6 weeks. It's been 10 weeks now, and the experiment has worked well. I pay rent and get not only a place to live, but also another grown-up with whom to share meal prep, house work, even bathing and story time. After Sean went into hospital, I thought, "It's all me now. I can find occasional help with the kids, but almost all the feeding, clothing, bathing, story reading – it's up to me." The thought was especially daunting for someone as spoiled as I was. Sean gave most of the baths and read at least half the bed time stories. By the time I got home from work each night, I was tired and needed someone else to pull kid duty. Sean did that. After he died, I missed not only my husband, but what that husband and father did for me. For his children. For his family. Division of labor – gone.

Then, suddenly, by chance, I meet another single mum in New Zealand, and the picture changes. Amy often reads the bed time story to all 3 kids at once. We swap child sitting to enjoy social lives without fully funding babysitters' college or cell phone bills. Amy (with my permission) has even stepped in to play "bad cop" when the kids won't calm down and sleep at night. Division of labor – restored – at least for several more months while we remain in Kiwi Country.

After half a year of tramping the world, changing time zones, staying up late to visit with friends or sight see, the kids and I finally have a schedule (dictated largely by the school calendar) and a mentor: Amy's much more disciplined about bed times than I ever was. Start the bath/p.j./story process at 6:30 p.m.? You betcha. Off you go. We all need an example.

Amy, Fiona, Blythe, Finley at bed time

You also need an emergency contact for school, club and other forms. Amy's mine. It's nice to know, thousands of miles from your home country, if you get trapped under something heavy, someone will notice. Most nights, we eat dinner together. The kids and I have adopted Amy's ritual of taking turns recounting the day's highlights (Finley, being Finley, has instituted a practice of also mentioning low lights). After the kids are asleep, my flatmate and I often swap dating stories. I had no such stories before moving in, since I wasn't dating. I remember telling Amy, "You don't have to worry about me bringing guys to the house, because I don't have a guy." Famous last words. Amy was still awake when I came home after my first real date (with - yes- a guy), wracked with angst, riddled with butterflies. She let me cry on her shoulder - told me I should keep the butterflies and ditch the guilt.

I thought I was getting a nice place to live, but the kids and I have received much more: a fellow mum, mentor, bather of children and reader of stories. Someone with whom to watch trashy American TV ("Khloe & Lamar," anyone?) and divulge joys and heartaches. Someone who leads by example: working full-time, mothering and still pursuing passions – dance and rowing. This is as close to work/life balance as I've seen around the world. We all need an example.

How fitting the kids and I spent Mother's Day with Amy and Blythe. The 5 of us have shared a lot of days. Ordinary, extraordinary, only-in-New Zealand-Mums' Days. Cheers to you, and to all the moms/mums/meres/mummys on this journey who've blessed our lives with their stories, their presence, their listening ears. We all need an example. Happy Mums' Days.