The Year 2015: Finding My Place Again in the Snow Globe

2015. What will it bring? I actually just reread a post I write a year ago called "What does 2014 hold?" and I can honestly say that I could rewrite that post but change the names around a bit. 2015 will be a huge change for me personally, but not until October. October is the month that Mr O, the baby of the family (I need to stop calling him that - he's three for goodness sake), will turn four and then start at primary school too. In October 2015 I will have three school going children. For the first time in nearly nine years there will be no children at home during the school day (apart from lunchtime then). Just me. 

Part of me is dancing a very energetic happy dance at the thought. Part of me is a little mournful. How fast they grow. However, I have another nine months with my youngest at home before those child free hours are upon me. And I plan to make the most of them with him.

There are some other things I plan to do in 2015 too, and when I stumbled across this "Imagining the New Year" blog link up I decided to put those plans down on virtual paper. I also created a Pinterest board called the Year 2015 to keep me motivated. So here goes! Three main things to focus on in 2015.

1. Be More Comfortable in My Own Skin

The last eight years have been a collage of new motherhood, sleepless nights, pregnancies, breastfeeding, weaning, applauding firsts three times around - like crawling, talking and walking, nursery school starts, first school days, learning how to parent a highly sensitive child and parenting as a highly sensitive person and going through a huge career change. It's been an intense time.

From the moment we welcomed our first child to the world it was like a giant hand was shaking a snow globe around me - and it feels like it is only now that the snow is beginning to settle. Things feel stable around me. But I feel out of sorts. Like I have been left hanging a little off kilter in my snow globe world. I'm not quite where I should be. And this year I want to work on changing that.

I want to feel more comfortable being me again. That's both physically and mentally. More mindful eating. Eat breakfast (a small tweak that will apparently change my year). More physical movement, but something that works for me instead of another failed gym membership. A wardrobe overhaul. More sleep. More time with my husband, letting him know just how important he is. Our marriage was put on the back-burner whilst we learnt the parenting ropes. It was put low down on the priority list whilst we struggled with the ups and downs of parenthood. We have more time and the chance to change focus now.

2. Calm My Mind

I saw this gem about a woman's mind being like an internet browser with a whole host of pages open at the same time and it summed up perfectly for me how my mind is constantly busy. I'm always thinking about all the things that I 'need' to do. If the children are at school and my youngest is napping, I am always doing something - and that has been the way it has been since I became a mother. I remember a friend saying how wonderful her son's nap times were because she could read her magazines in peace and I was perplexed as to why I could never consider that to be something I could do without feeling guilty, without feeling I should be doing something else more 'worthwhile'.

A few weeks ago, in the height of the December madness, I sat down one morning, whilst all three children were in school, and I watched an episode of Downton Abbey. And I switched off. Ignored the nagging in my mind that I should be doing one of the things on my bullet journal list. Or cleaning some part of the house, which was quite frankly way overdue. I stuck two fingers up to my own thoughts, drank coffee and slobbered over watched the lovely Hugh Bonneville instead. I can count on one hand how many times I have taken this kind of time alone since my first son was born in 2007. And now I know I need to give myself permission to take time for myself. Just to do nothing. To switch off. To calm my mind. To read. To watch something. Just because.

2015 is a year I vow to invite less stress into my life. Instead, there will be more calm and I will have more patience - with myself, and with my children.

I plan to calm my mind with more creative journalling, by emptying my thoughts onto blank pages. I plan to breathe more consciously - be more mindful of my own breathing. To practice what I preach to my sons. To calm it down. To nurture my inner calm. To enjoy the little moments more instead of constantly planning for the bigger ones. A happiness jar will help with that.

I want to close some of these internet pages that are constantly open in my mind. Open one page at a time, deal with it and then close it down. More focus. Less energy wasted. Less chaos. More calm in my mind.

3. Explore My Home

A few years ago, I had a vision board and one of the items was about exploring the Netherlands. The plan was to see something new in the country I call home every month. And then two more children came along and the good intention fell by the wayside. This year, I am breathing new life into it.

Last weekend we headed to the Veluwe for a walk, instead of going to one of our usual walking destinations. My husband suggested it, and usually on the Sunday before the kids are due back at school after a holiday I would have dismissed the idea of venturing out a little further. This time I embraced the idea, let my husband lead the way and I just followed.

I'm planning a list of things I want to see in the Netherlands. I made a Dutch bucket list last year, but this is a real places to see list. What should be on it? What is a must see in the Netherlands?

And another little thing that I really want to get under my belt is driving. I wrote about this before and even made some progress taking lessons as a refresher, but then I fell down the stairs and was out of action for a while. This morning I drove a little in our car for the first time. Hopefully I'll keep building on that...... keep asking me!

So that's my 2015 plan in a nutshell.

What does 2015 hold for you? What one thing are you determined to do this year?

5 Things to Do Before You Become a Parent

 I have three children aged nine, six and four. I know what I am talking about when I say there are things you should do before you become parents. Five things to be exact.

1. SLEEP

Seriously, I wish someone had told me how much sleep you lose during the first decade of a child's life and particularly during that first year after becoming a mother. Mind you, had I known then what I know now I might have slept through my entire 20s and missed that decade.

They sleep, but not for long.

Sleep when you can, lie in on a weekend, spend lazy Sunday mornings (to hell with it, and afternoons) eating breakfast in bed and, reading great books and watching fabulous movies. By the time your days are filled with nappies, milk feeds and rocking a baby sleep is a distant memory.

2. TRAVEL

You don't travel light with a baby or toddler in tow. In fact, if you've got any sanity left you just won't bother travelling at all.

Entertaining a hungry, cranky, bored toddler waiting for an overdue flight in a busy holiday shouldn't be on any sane person's wish list. And long haul flights? Baahahhaaa. It's why the local motorways are blocked up in the summer holidays with cars filled with car seats and little people, and every possible item you could never imagine you needed before you became parents packed in every other spare centimetre of car space.

So, before you have a baby go see the world, spread your wings and enjoy what the world has to offer - it will be a decade or more before that idea becomes fun again.

Trust your instinct and ditch the parenting books

3. DITCH THE PARENTING BOOKS
Once you know you'll imminently become a parent there is an urge to run out and buy, borrow or read every parenting book you can get your hands on. Don't.

One thing the books can't teach you is this: trust your instinct. A mother's instinct is the most powerful tool at your disposal. Once you are a parent, you can better understand your own parenting style and then seek out reading material as an aide, or other people with the same parenting philosophy. Reading every book or article with the word parent in the title before that time will only confuse, upset and mystify you. There is conflicting advice everywhere you look so let your instinct guide you in the right direction.

4. READ

I know, I just said ditch the parenting books but I'm talking about other reading material, the reading that you have always wanted to do. Now is the time to grab those classics on your reading bucket list. Now is the time to make the most of your favourite magazine subscription. Sign up at your local library and make your library card work for you.

Enjoy the peace, quiet and time that you have before a baby arrives. Trust me, you won't pick up another non-parenting book until long after your baby has turned one.

5. PREPARE FOR A LIFETIME OF CHANGE

Life will never be the same again.

That is easy for me to say of course, I have three children. I know the before children and the after kids life very well indeed but before you actually have a baby it's hard to imagine all the ways life will change but, let me assure you,  nothing in your life post kids will ever be the same again.

Your living room turns into one giant play room. There are potties and toilet training seats filling bathrooms and the downstairs loo. Your dining room floor always looks as if a food fight has just taken place (and usually it has, just not in the same way as during those fun student days). Your garden is filled with plastic houses, slides and balls and the beautiful flowers you plant last one hour after they have bloomed before they are plucked by chubby little hands.

But the biggest change of all is not inside your house. It's inside you. From the moment you become a parent your heart is filled with unconditional love. You will have no idea where this love comes from but it is all consuming. You are no longer responsible for just one person on this planet, and that feeling is overwhelming. Welcome to parenthood. Life will never be the same again.

Life will be better. So much better. Even without sleeping and travelling and reading, without peace and quiet and even though your home no longer feels like a sanctuary, life will be better. Because you have a little hand to hold, a little person to lead through life. Because you are somebody's mama.

What would you add to the list? What should you do before you become parents? 


 If you want to read more about parenting abroad head over to support Knocked Up Abroad on Kickstarter and buy a pre-release copy of the book!

24 Things I Spend my Days Saying as the Mother of Three Boys

Nobody warned me before I became a mother about the sentences that would come out of my mouth once I had children. Nobody told me about the words I would utter being a parent to boys. Nobody thought to enlighten me about the bizarre topics of conversation that would become commonplace in a house with three boys aged seven, four and two. Nobody. So let me be the one to forewarn you – this is what mothers of young boys really spend their days saying:

1. “Have you done a poo? No? Really? Why do you smell like that then?”

2. “Which one of you has eaten the toilet roll this time? I just put a new roll in there. Like half an hour ago.”

3. “Stop running from the garden through the living room in your muddy shoes.” And then three minutes later, “For the love of God, stop running from the garden through the living….” Repeat all summer long.

4. “Put your brother down, he’s not a doll.” Then screamed loudly, “Noooo, don’t put him down like that!”

5. “Why is the garden dug up?”

6. “What are you going to do with that slug?”

7. “Take that rope from around your brother’s neck. Right now.”

8. “Dirty underwear goes in the laundry basket, not under your bed.”

9. “Seriously no. Just no. You cannot have a snack, it’s been twenty minutes since you ate breakfast*/lunch*/dinner/a snack*.”

10. “Stop calling everyone a poophole.”

11. “Put your pants back on.”

12. “What do you say when you burp*/fart*/cough*/sneeze*/spit* in your brother’s face?”

13. “Did you flush the toilet? Did you wash your hands? Really, the toilet and tap working silently now are they? Let me feel your hands. Go back and wash your hands. With soap.”

14. “Green food is not poisonous.”

15. “What’s that in your hair? Weetabix? Great, it’s turned to cement.”

16. Don’t throw snails over the neighbour’s fence. And definitely not whilst they are sitting in their garden.”

17. “Slugs don’t go over the fence either.”

18. “Get a tissue. No, not your sleeve, a tissue. Don’t you dare put that in your mouth. So gross. It’s a bit late now for a tissue isn’t it?”

19. “Get your hands out of your trousers.”

20. “Of course you can’t find your gym shoes*/wallet*/swimming stuff*/bed*, your room looks like a bombsite.”

21. “No, strawberry flavoured sweets do not count as fruit.”

22. “Get the Fat Controller out of your mouth.”

23. “Put your bum on your chair before you fall and break your neck.”

24. “Do you want to end up in hospital?” (As clarification, this is not a threat, merely a hint that what they are doing threatens their life or at least a limb.)

*delete/use interchangeably as appropriate

What have I missed? What odd things do you spend your days saying as a parent?

Home Births: Let Pregnant Women Decide

 One of the things I loved about being pregnant in the Netherlands was the fact that I was not treated like I had a medical condition. I went to the hospital during my first pregnancy only for scans (and in subsequent pregnancies even these were done in the midwife practice) a blood test in the first trimester and a rush visit in the last trimester when my baby's heartbeat was deemed to be too fast by my midwife.

The rest of the time I saw only a group of midwives in their practice. Hospitals, as great as they are when you actually need them, are not places I need to spend a lot of time in.

What I also loved was the fact that I could make a considered judgement about where I wanted to give birth. I had the option of a home or a hospital birth. If I had been pregnant in England I am 99% sure a home birth would not have even been a topic of conversation.

In the UK only 2.4% of births happen at home compared to nearly 20% in the Netherlands. The cost of a hospital birth in the Netherlands is only fully covered by medical insurance if there is a medical reason for it. Plus the Dutch first line care (midwives) advocate natural births. At least in 2006, they certainly did.

I'm an expat, and the first thing that crossed my mind was how culturally different a birth in the UK was (or in the US for that matter), where all my friends seemed to be talking about epidurals and gas and air. However, I decided that if I could, I would opt for a home birth. What could be more comfortable than not having to pack up a case and head off to an unknown, sterile environment surrounded by strange faces to give birth?

But when it came down to it I had to go to hospital. There was meconium in the embryonic fluid and I had no choice. The midwife was with me at home, and made it clear that we had to transfer as quickly as we could to the hospital. No panic, no stress, just matter of factly, "Let's move it".

I was devastated. I hadn't prepared myself for Plan B. Everything was ready for a home birth, not a hospital birth (it turned out that I seemed to have absentmindedly forgotten to complete the packing of my hospital case).

A typical delivery suite at a Dutch hospital
(ball not included!)

The details of the birth I will save for a rainy day (or a book) but suffice to say that because the maternity ward was working at maximum capacity and there was not enough staff to attend to all the women in labour as it was needed I had a difficult, stressful delivery. No woman should have to go through a traumatic labour and birth because of staff shortages. My husband and I were left alone for large chunks of time in the delivery room - feeling helpless, clueless and upset. My baby also became distressed.

So no one will ever convince me that a hospital room is always the best place for a woman to give birth, because it is safer, because of 'just in case', that it should be the first choice of every woman, regardless of situation.

A doula and a whole lot of personal experience made the difference for me the second and third births around - also in a hospital.

And so to last week. Dutch News.nl translated an article that appeared in De Volkskrant on 29 April (if you can read Dutch be sure to read the original article, and particularly the comments it evoked - including from gynaecologists themselves) called "Home Births: Let the Gynaecologists Decide".  In the article the two authors (Kenneth Watson and Rob Kottenhagen) are advocating that gynaecologists should decide whether women can safely give birth at home or not. It's an opinion piece. And this in turn is my opinion piece about the article.

The first line already riled me; translated from the original article, the piece starts like this.

"It is irresponsible to keep home births as the cornerstone of midwifery care."

And it riles me because just over 80% of women in the Netherlands give birth in the hospital. The cornerstone of midwifery care is not home birth.

It goes on to state,

"The German poet Heinrich Heine once said that if the end of the world came he would go to the Netherlands because there everything happened fifty years later. This comment seems a fitting one for another anachronistic Dutch phenomenon: the home birth. Everywhere in the affluent West the safety of mother and child is paramount and hospital births are the norm." Dutch News 2 May 2014

It goes on to talk about midwives playing Russian Roulette with the lives of mothers and babies, that midwives make woefully inadequate risk assessments.

By the time I got to the end of the piece my blood was boiling. And I don't even think it was because of the message in the article, more the tone. I can well imagine how any midwife felt reading the article. The authors imply that the priority of the midwife is not the mother, nor the baby. And how insulting must that be to such a profession?

I miss the part in the article where it states around the time that the worrying baby death figures were published that part of the discussion was that gynaecologists, doctors and anaesthetists weren't always around at night in hospitals. That their absence put women in danger.

I miss the part that admits that many women who were successfully able to have a home birth had a wonderful experience. I gave birth three times in a hospital, and not one time could I say it was a pleasant experience. It got the job done - I took three healthy baby boys home with me, but pleasant? No. Absolutely not. I am envious of the many positive home birth stories I have heard.

I miss the acknowledgement of the research that indicates that hospital births increase the chances of intervention being necessary (caesarian sections, vacuum pump and so on). That labour is lasting longer and longer as women lie around in hospital beds.

I welcome any proper discussion on the topic of child birth, whether that be about the Netherlands or elsewhere. Childbirth should be safe, no matter where you give birth. Women should have a choice. Women should make the decisions, based on facts and risks with the help of the professionals (I'm not alone thinking this see: http://www.knov.nl/actueel-overzicht/nieuws-overzicht/detail/keuze-vrouw-centraal-in-reacties-opiniestuk/1386).

I believe all women should have the right to a safe environment and professional care for labour and birth. But the truth is that sometimes things go wrong; they go wrong in a maternity ward in a hospital, they go wrong at home. Midwives are human. Gynaecologists are human. Labour is unpredictable. Births do not follow a script.

I feel strongly that demonising midwives is just wrong. That's my opinion. Instead of the eternal battle that rages on in the Netherlands between midwifes and gynaecologists about who is best to lead pregnancies, labour and births, it would be nice to see more collaboration. Instead of one camp against another I would rather see more unity, seamless co-operation, specialists working together in the interest of mothers-to-be and their unborn children. Less emphasis on who gets the money for delivery, more emphasis on safety, but also comfort! The comfort of the mother, a relaxed mother, a contented mother, which is proven to aid the labour process, seems to have been forgotten along the way.

The only positive thing I can say about this article is that, despite its dismissive, condescending tone, it has of course sparked discussion. I am, after all, writing about it. Many are talking about it. Many have commented on it. It's a topic that will always spark controversy, that will evoke the most primal of emotions. I believe women should have a choice where they give birth.

But lastly, when all is said and done, I believe child birth is a topic that should be treated respectfully, which I missed in this article.

A Mother's Hands

Photo Credit: Leroy Skalstad

Growing up I often looked at my mum's hands and vowed my hands would not look the same when I was older. Despite regular lashings of hand cream, strong stuff at that, her hands remained dry, chapped, worn out.

It's only now, with three children of my own, now that I've been bestowed with the special title of mama, that I understand why her hands always looked so overused, so tired.

It was from helping us wash our tiny hands, washing our muddy or dinner stained clothes, soaking our trousers, the ones with the grass stained knees, from bathing us, washing our hair after a day playing out in the garden, from the endless, thankless task of cleaning the home we lived in, washing the dishes after dinner, from cooking and baking.

Hands in water. Hands immersed in detergent, hands covered in dough, constantly dipped in and out of dirty dishwater, wringing out sodden wet clothes, hanging damp clothes on the washing line. Hands in constant use. For years. Day in, day out. From sun up to sun down. No breaks or respite from the work she did, even when we were on holiday. No thought, time or money for a manicure. 

When we started school, my brother and I, my mum started working in school meals, to fit her working hours in with us. All day in a kitchen: cooking, hands in water, hands covered in food, cleaning, clearing, creating. Then she went home and started all over again. I understand now that her hands took a battering from her daily tasks, the ones she never complained about doing. Her hands took a battering from motherhood. 

No amount of handcream could keep the cracks at bay. Handcream never got the chance to soak in, let alone had time to work its promised magic.

I look down now at my own hands. They are tired, aged hands. And I'm proud that my hands look just like my mum's did. They make be dry, chapped, tired but I am consoled by the fact that is is all in the name of motherhood.

Today is Mother's Day in the Netherlands. This is for my own mother, my own way of thanking her for everything she did for us growing up, but who is more distant now than I would ever wish. Let your mother know today, even through you are all grown up, that you know what she has done for you. That you are grateful that her hands are worn by the years of motherhood. That her hands are worn for you.

Love Makes the World Go Round & Moves Us Around the World

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, the day of love and romance, at least it is if you go in for all that cards, flowers and romantic dinners malarkey (can you tell I might be past all that, what with three children and a vague recollection of the last time my husband and I were out alone?) In any case, it seems the perfect timing for a Multicultural Kid Blogs carnival on the topic of love.

I remember my first (and last) love triangle like it was yesterday, rather than the thirty five years ago it actually was. It was early primary school, in Warrington in Cheshire in the North of England. My class was forced lovingly created Valentine's cards for each other. The recipient of each child's creation was a free choice and before we left school that Valentine's Day, our handcrafted cards were distributed amongst the class.

Horror of horrors I took two cards home with me. I was guilt ridden. Tears rolled. I felt awful for the boy who had given me a card but had not received one from me in return. I went home and immediately began making another card so I could give it to him the next school day. I was oblivious to the fact that he probably went home and thought nothing more of it. The unfairness of it all ruined Valentine's Day for that little five year old me. (Sensitive? Me?)

These days of course this situation is avoided with the idea of fairness and exclusiveness, as Aisha Ashraf tells in her piece about Valentine's cards in her children's school in Canada for Global Living Magazine. But in my day, you lived with the guilt and the disappointment, and surprise surprise I got over it and survived the many more Valentine's Days that followed.

Photo Credit: Nithya Ramanujam

So, back to love. Love is not the same around the world. It means different things to different people, to different cultures. Love takes different forms. Love is expressed in different ways, shown by different acts depending on the culture of where you live and who you are showing the love you feel to.

Varya writes about what love means to her and how she teaches her children to show love on her blog The Creative World of Varya. Rina Mae (Finding Dutchland) describes how her husband expressed his love for her in her blog post When in Rome. Jaime of Frogs and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails shows her children love through her 10 Simple Ways to Spend Quality Time with Young Kids. Leanna, of All Done Monkey, highlights that sometimes we have to be creative with how we show our love for someone else in her post Monkey Kisses and Dinosaur Hugs.

In the Netherlands, I love you is expressed by the words, "Ik hou van jou" (spoken as "ik how von yow") and Valentine's day is relatively low key. There are cards in the shops but that is about the extent of it. Are the Dutch a romantic lot? Not particularly. They certainly don't have a reputation for romance, in fact according to CNN's World's most romantic nationalities the Dutch don't even hit the top ten. The British don't feature either. You are in luck though, if romance is your thing, if you are with someone from Spain, Argentina, Italy, France or Brazil. Maria Babin, the Trilingual Mama, writes all about je t'aime in her post "Love Makes the World Go Around in Paris" and discovers it's not a phrase flung around in France's capital.

But is romance really about love? Of course not, at least I don't think so. There can be romance and no love. There can be love and no romance. Love is more solid. It's a foundation. Sara Ager (A Hotchpotch Hijabi in Italy) highlights that love can be most powerful when it's low key in her blog post, "10 Things I've Learnt About Love in the Real World".

"Love is what makes the world go round; love is what keeps us moving around the world."

Photo Credit: Ben Earwicker

Long lasting love isn't about fireworks and sparks, for me it's more about the solid foundation of a couple. The first building blocks of a family. Love is what makes the world go round; love is what keeps us moving around the world - growing our multicultural families. I'm an expat because of love. I live in the Netherlands because of love. I have a beautiful little family because of love.

I'm just one of many who has crossed both country and cultural boundaries for love.

Like Aisha Ashraf who reflects on her ten year wedding anniversary on her blog Expatlog.com, with a beautiful piece called "What price a woman's heart?" She counts her blessings that her husband refused to adhere to religious, social and cultural expectations around marriage. She highlights that sometimes marriage has nothing to do with love.

Olga Mecking, The European Mama, shares her intercultural love story in her piece called, "And Not Because He’s German: My Take On Intercultural Relationships" and highlights that love looks past cultural differences to the man or woman beneath.

And of course sometimes we use the word love to describe our passion about other things in our lives; our interests, our careers, our hobbies. Thereza Howling writes about the importance of Loving What You Do on her blog A Path of Light. And I couldn't agree more - you should love what you do, and do what you love. The alternative is slowly withering away inside.

Whatever love means to you, however it is shown in your life there is little doubt that without it the world would be a greyer, lonelier, less passionate place to inhabit!

We would love to hear from you what love means to you and your family - how is love expressed in the country you call home? How do you say 'I love you' in the languages you speak? Have you made a life change for love - be it for a person, a job, a hobby?

8 Things My Highly Sensitive Child Has Taught Me

Six years ago I had never heard of the term highly sensitive person (HSP). I had heard of shy, introvert and difficult - all labels that have been put on me at some point or another in my life. When I became a mother I was suddenly cast into a world of the highly sensitive child (HSC) and it was a real eye opener indeed. I got to know myself better and more importantly I started accepting me for who I am, instead of thinking I had to change to fit in with a society that favours extroverts. Here are eight things I have learnt from my incredible little HSC.

1. I'm a HSP. 

I can take or leave busy, crowded places
Photo Credit: Michal Zacharzewski

For many years I was well aware that I am an introvert. I don't need to be in crowds, am unsure about going to new places, meeting new people and making small talk. I'm a real homebody and am more than content to stay at home rather than be out socialising every evening (even before motherhood!). Since becoming a parent and it being pointed out that my eldest is a HSC I am able to give how I feel a place and a name. I'm a highly sensitive person.

2. It's ok to be me

My vision board and goal setting for years had involved things like "be more extrovert" "go to networking events" "go out more regularly with friends" "meet new people". Whilst I will always strive to be a better me, I have recently learnt to accept myself and my limitations. I will never be more extrovert. I will never be comfortable being centre of attention in a large group. And that's okay.

3. The importance of me time

Highly sensitive people (including children) need down time, and lots of it. Peace, calm, silence, relaxation: these are not luxuries for sensitive souls. These are essentials. When my first son was born and I was alone at home with him I became agitated if he wouldn't sleep at nap time, if he cried incessantly during the day and I couldn't get a minute to myself I was a big ball of knotted stress by the time my husband came home. I thought I was a terrible mother. By the time my second son was born I realised that I needed a recharge moment in the day in order to cope with the noise and chaos that can ensue with a house filled with very small people. When my children slept I made sure I used those precious minutes to create quiet to clear my head, to reset myself to zero. Sometimes I read, sometimes I wrote. Sometimes I just sat and closed my eyes. No music, no TV, no vacuum cleaners or clattering of pans or dishes. More than three years on, with three little boys in the house, I still insist on quiet time in the middle of the day. My youngest sleeps but the eldest two play in their rooms, or together, and do something quiet like drawing, or puzzles or they create masterpieces with Lego. It does us all good. Without it our afternoons and evenings can be tense!

4. I'm a sponge

Photo Credit: Keith Syvinski 

Not in a Sponge Bob kind of way but in a "soak up the emotions around me" sort of way. When my son was in the peuterspeelzaal (nursery school) we heard from his teachers that if others in the class were crying there would be tears in his eyes. If someone hurt themselves he would be upset. If someone was sad, he would be too. It's a common trait of being a HSC. It's a part of being highly sensitive and I guess until a few years back I never really got why others wouldn't be effected to the same extent as me by other people's misfortune or sadness, by horror events reported on the news. I am often upset, on the brink of tears even, about things that are really not my problem to deal with. Worse still, when I hear about someone else's dilemmas I try desperately to think of how I could directly help them and I take their problem on as my own. Like I don't have enough to worry about with three children.... so I end up feeling frazzled as I carry the weight of everyone's problems on my shoulders. My son has made me realise that I have to set boundaries. I have been busy helping him to learn what he can filter out from his school day, what he should let go of and it helps me in turn.  I have learnt to think more objectively when someone is sharing an issue with me - a listening ear is often enough and people are not expecting me to sort our their personal dramas!

5. I'm a lie detector

My son picks up pretty quickly on people saying one thing but actually meaning something else. He knows when he hears half truths, an incomplete story or just plain old nonsense. He watches faces, he reads eyes. When the sentiment there doesn't match the words he hears he knows it in a flash. It's related to number 4 in a big way and it's hard to fob highly sensitive people off with "I'm fine" whilst there are signs in their eyes that tell a different story. And when I saw how tuned in my son is to the unspoken truth the penny dropped about myself. Some people make me feel very uncomfortable and I am very quick to cast judgement on whether I trust someone or not. My son helped me realise why that is.

6. I'm creative

Creative outlets are essential in our house
Photo credit: Amanda van Mulligen (c)

My son needs an outlet to release his emotions and experiences during any given day. He loves making things, using his imagination, painting, drawing, making things with play dough, story telling and building his own little worlds with his Lego. That means Pinterest is my best friend and I have found that I really enjoy seeking out great projects to make with him (and his brothers). It provides me with a creative outlet too, on top of writing that is, and I realise how much I need that. There has to be a place for all the energy to go that is swirling around my head. I can channel creative energy into making things with my children, because right now there isn't the time for me to do release those creative juices in other ways.

7. Be true to ourselves

My eldest has a particular affinity to nature and things that are growing. One day he came home from school very upset because his friends were trying to kill a worm they had found. He thought it was horrible that they could act in such a way.

As he's got older he has struggled with the behaviour of his peers, trying to be the same as them whilst holding on to how he feels when he sees living things being killed. I see him start to bend to fit in, even though it doesn't feel right to him. Later, when he is lying in bed talking about his day he is able to be open and honest about how something made him feel. He's able to admit that something he or a friend did upset him. I hear him more and more talk about how good he was because he didn't cry, even though he felt like he might. He's already being conditioned to fit in better in a world not designed for highly sensitive people.

This is just one example of how HS boys don't live up to society's expectation of how males should behave. Many boys therefore suppress their natural instinct and feelings. Ted Zeff's book "The Strong, Sensitive Boy" is a great resource to delve further into this topic.

I've learnt how important it is to help my son be true to himself and in turn be true to myself. Sometimes it is much harder to follow your own heart and be true to your feelings than to go with the crowd. It's a hard lesson for a child, particularly one that is so sensitive. It's so important to find the balance between honouring how we feel but not constantly sticking our neck on the line. My son doesn't want to stand out from all of his friends, he doesn't want to be different, and I understand that so it's all about finding the right balance.

8. Embrace nature

Nature blows away the cobwebs, refreshes and revitalises
Photo Credit: Amanda van Mulligen (c)

As I said, my son has an affinity to nature. In fact all three boys love being out in nature. They love going for walks in the dunes, collecting leaves, twigs and acorns in the woods and spotting animals and birds when we're outside. My HSC relaxes in nature. He is given a new lease of life being outdoors running amongst the trees and racing carefree along sandy beaches. He's at his happiest embracing all that nature has to offer. He's taught me that nature is a powerful healer; nature refreshes me, gives me energy and allows me to see things through renewed eyes. It blows away the cobwebs and with life so busy with day to day things it's good to take time out and walk in the woods, sit on the beach, paddle in a lake.

What have I missed out? If you are parenting a HSC what important lessons are you learning along the way?

*I have created a Facebook group called "Happy Sensitive Kids" for anyone who is involved in raising HSCs. My goal is to create a supportive, safe place to share tips, experiences, challenges and the joys of bringing up HSCs. It's a closed group so you need to request membership but it also means that the posts can only be seen my members.*

Understanding Highly Sensitive Children

Our parenting theme of 2013 so far surely has to be 'authentic', being true to who we are and letting our children be who they are. We refuse to mould them into the right shaped peg to fit the holes that others create because it is easier.

HSCs are often creative and artistic
Photo: Robin Hindle

We have been in a long battle dialogue with my eldest son's primary school about highly sensitive children and their needs in the classroom. My six year old is a highly sensitive child (HSC) which is an amazing character trait to have. HSCs grow up to be the artists, the musicians, the peacemakers amongst us. They have an affinity to the natural world, to animals and living, growing things. They are conscientious (there is a reduced chance that I will spend time nagging my son to do his homework in later years) and have an innate sense of justice and right and wrong. They are creative. They are emotionally tuned into the world around them. They are intuitive. They are incredibly affectionate, caring and loving as well as wise for their years. But it also means their heads fill up quickly, especially in busy or new environments.

The first hurdle for many parents of HSCs usually involves overcoming a lack of knowledge, understanding or interest in the idea of highly sensitive people (HSP). Being highly sensitive does not mean there is something wrong. It is not an illness or a disorder, nor is it a behavioural problem.  But most HSCs have a specific instruction manual. And we all know that if you make an expensive technological purchase and try to operate it without the instruction manual you are asking for problems. Either you don't understand half of the functions so are not able to get the best out of your equipment or worst still you may even do damage to your purchase. And so it is with a HSC.

A HSC is in essence one of the 20% of children that intensely experiences the environment around them. The senses of an HSC are easily overloaded: cooking smells can be unpleasant to the keen nose of a HSC; the feel of sand on a HSC's hands can be distinctly uncomfortable; a wet sleeve can lead to a drama; loud noises can be intensely frightening; a scratchy label on a new T-shirt can be highly irritating. A highly sensitive toddler can therefore come across as an extremely fussy child, whereas in reality he genuinely experiences physical discomfort.

And physical sensory overload is just the tip of the iceberg - that sensitivity that we can actually easily see if we care to look close enough. Look below the surface of an HSC and there are pools of emotion of a depth well beyond a child's years. They feel the emotions in a room: they know when a parent is unhappy or a teacher is feeling below par; they read through the words spoken to the meaning behind them and quickly sense when the two don't match. They are good readers of people and are alarmingly capable of taking on the emotions of others around them, taking on the burden of another's problems as if they were their own. It's a lot of responsibility to take on, particularly for those so young.

The majority of HSCs are introverts (30% are not) who are often labelled as shy or fearful. HSCs scan and observe before they participate. They are more cautious about tackling the climbing frame in the playground or jumping from the bench in the gym. They are very unsure of new environments and new people. They are the toddlers clinging to their mothers' legs and refusing to play with the others at the mother and toddler group, the children screaming the new classroom down on the first day of pre-school and the children reluctant to start at primary school. They need to know it is safe before they take action. They need time to warm up to places and people. It's about self preservation and trust.

Perfectionism is also a trait of HSCs. If something they work on is not perfect in their eyes they feel like a failure. They are upset by their perceived lack of ability to complete the task to their high standards. However, to put 110% into everything you do to get it to a 'perfect' state is mentally and physically exhausting.

For a HSC a classroom can be overwhelming
Photo: Elias Minasi

Transfer all of this to the classroom and you hopefully have an idea of how a HSC feels at the end of the school day. Therefore HSCs need a lot of downtime. They are the children you often find spending long periods of time alone in their bedrooms. They need time to clear their head out after a busy day. They need a break during the school day to give everything they have experienced a place. They need quiet time.

20% of the population is highly sensitive. HSCs grow in to highly sensitive adults. It's something I know firsthand - oh did I not mention that high sensitivity is a hereditary trait? It's an inborn character.

The degrees of sensitivity are as varied as children themselves. As children grow older some sensitivities disappear, some are managed better and some sensitivities are unfortunately suppressed because they don't fit with the demands of modern society (the consequences of which are anxiety and depression and a lack of authenticity but that's a whole other blog post in the making).

However sensitivity manifests itself the first step for the parent of a HSC is usually to educate those around them. Hence this blog post. I, hand in hand with my husband, have spent the last eighteen months trying to educate my son's educators about what he needs to thrive in a busy classroom. Our attempts have fallen on deaf ears. Fortunately every other person in my son's world so far does understand. And, more importantly, they accept my son for who he is. They allow him to be authentic, and don't require him to change to fit in with them. Which is lucky, because we have another two sons who have shown signs to a lesser degree of being HSCs. And thank goodness - because the world sure is a better place with HSPs in it!

Do you know a HSC? Are you the parent of a HSC? I would love to hear from others who have had similar experiences as a parent.

If anything is this blog post rings bells for you check out Elaine Aron's website for more information on the is topic, as well as a check list of HSC traits to help you determine if your child(ren) is(are) in fact HSCs.

11 July 2013: As of today I have created a Facebook group called "Happy Sensitive Kids" for anyone who is involved in raising HSCs. My goal is to create a supportive, safe place to share tips, experiences, challenges and the joys of bringing up HSCs. It's a closed group so you need to request membership but it also means that the posts can only be seen my members. 

Why We Should Tell Our Children Expat Tales

A love story with a trailer
Photo Credit:Michal Zacharzewski SXC

My eldest son is at the age where he has started asking lots of questions about my past, about how life was in England, how I met his father and how I came to the Netherlands. It's a fabulous period of curiosity but also a great reminder for me and my husband of how far we've come. The details of exactly how we met (online in a chatroom) don't really make any sense for him yet (it's something we still find hard to believe looking back so we certainly can't expect a six year old to wrap his head around it) but the story of his papa coming to England by boat with a borrowed Dutch police trailer to collect his mama and all her belongings falls on eager, listening ears time after time. And we love telling the story.

There's nothing traditional about how I came to meet a Dutchman, sell up my flat in Watford, England and move to the Netherlands to make a new life and so it makes for some awesome story telling for our curious children at the stage where they want to know everything that happened before they arrived on the scene.

Last week, a great blog post by Drie Culturen asked whether there was a difference between children and adults living abroad.  In the post, Janneke argues that there is a big difference, namely because adults living abroad have already formed their own identity but a child's identity is still evolving. Whilst she talks about children from the point of view of them growing up abroad her tips are still relevant for those of us raising children in a country where they are native but we, as a parent, are not. She talks about helping children to form their own identity by telling stories about their heritage. She says tell your children stories about their grandparents. I couldn't agree more. And I would also add tell them about your own life back in your home country, about growing up in another country. Tell them their parent's love story. Tell them their birth story. Tell them every story you can think of about their family.

Not all stories need come from books. Share your
family stories with your children
Photo Credit: Patrick Nijhuis

Not only does it help mould their identity, it turns out that story telling is good for their memory too!  An excellent article called "The Stories That Bind Us" in the New York Times about research undertaken to find out whether children that knew more about their past faced adversity better than children with less knowledge about their family's past states,

"The more children knew about their family’s history, the stronger their sense of control over their lives, the higher their self-esteem and the more successfully they believed their families functioned."

That's quite something - research showed that children who have a good knowledge of their own family and past functioned better in challenging situations. Brian Gresko followed this topic up in an article and wrote,

"Storytelling has benefits beyond entertainment, which explains why humans have been telling stories for as long as we know. It’s one of the elements that makes us human, I think.........Having a shared story, a shared collection of memories, is a powerful unifying force between people – whether those stories be ones we tell as a nation, an ethnic group, a workforce, or a family."

And as expats, we have some amazing stories to tell our children.... so what are you waiting for? Share those stories today!

What stories do you tell your children about the country you were born in? What stories do you tell about grandparents and your brothers and sisters growing up? I would love to hear your stories!

Regrets? I've Had a Few, But None Enough to Matter

The Daily Battle to get to School on Time
Photo: Filip Lundeholm

Some mornings I wake up and can't help feeling like I drew the short end of the straw. Three children to organise by 8.15: coax out of bed, tempt breakfast into, get dressed, brush teeth, get a school lunch box ready and into a school bag and finally get coats, scarves, hats and gloves on to (season dependent of course). In between I have to fit in a breastfeed for the baby, scrape Weetabix from the floor, high chair and dining table, divert a couple of tantrums and/or crying sessions and get myself showered and dressed. It's a miracle but we do usually get my eldest to school on time.

In order to take part in this joy every weekday I gave up my career. Once upon a time I worked full time in Human Resources in an international company. I went off on maternity leave in 2006 and never went back.  Don't get me wrong, I hated working nine to five. I hated the humdrum of office life. I hated the office politics. I hated being an employee number and not a valued person. I hated the rat race. I gave that career up happily.

When I started working for myself as a freelance writer, the knock came hard as the number of children in our household grew and the time to write diminished dramatically. During pregnancies the energy was sapped out of me. My inspiration for writing never made it outside my head. Time was at a premium and writing came last. This career pause was a little harder to take. Especially on those days when the children don't cooperate and the day feels long by 8.15 a.m. The days when every sacrifice feels like a burden. The days when not being able to even go to the toilet alone irks me.

And then something will happen that knocks the regrets about my writing career break on the head. It whacks those niggling feelings of something lost right out of the playing field. A baby's first smile. A toddler getting up and taking his first steps. The first utterance of mama. A bum wiggling dance to the theme of Thomas the Tank Engine. The search for a hug and kiss when a knee is scraped. The uncertainty of the first day of school. A drawing of our family made of stick men and wild hair. Arts and crafts sessions full of unbelievably sticky glue and glitter. Cooking sessions full of finger licking and tummy rubbing. In fact there are so many moments that make me smile as a mother it's hard to feel any regrets about an abandoned career for very long.

My time for my career will come soon enough. When my children are all in school and a little more independent. When my children are all grown up and leading their lives elsewhere. And for those days I can wait. There's no rush.

Regrets? I've had a few, but none enough to matter.