Luck.

Last year Rosie Scribble ran a competition on her blog, with a company called content&calm.

It meant something to do with Facebook, which I avoided like the plague, but something stirred within me enough to unearth an account opened long ago when it had seemed like a good idea, despite it never having been used before.

The prize, you see, was being a travel reporter - my dream job - only it was for children - and a fortnight's holiday in Greece.

You make your own luck, they say and I was determined to make ours.

All the kids had to do was make a short video about a trip or holiday they'd been on.  We learned how to use the ipad properly.  We learned how to upload films to YouTube. We practised and practised.

In the end, the eldest, who was exhausted but happily compliant, with the thought of eating Kleftiko for two weeks - made a film about The Good, Bad and the Brilliant bits of our trips to Nottingham, Bournemouth and Jersey (This is something we do each bedtime about our day).

It was a bit long, a tad boring and unintentionally laugh out loud funny when he talked about his Great-Aunt's dog dying, but he is intelligent and articulate and I hoped they'd see past the tiredness.  We had to garner votes and  followers for them so I called in favours from friends, family and Twitter, but something was wrong.  Their system didn't seem to be working.  His count wasn't going up each time our people did their thing.

I learned how to 'message.'  I made a fuss, pleaded and begged for these votes to be taken into account, but the numbers didn't budge and as the closing date landed upon us and other peoples' scores were higher, I sullenly gave up hope.

Ages later, the news came - he had won a wild card entry into the finals, a tray kit for keeping colouring and stuff when travelling and his very own little travel bug.

Plus a £250 day out voucher anywhere of his choosing.

So this is where we went the week before last:

It's not quite Greece, but we did get to stay in a posh Hotel as part of the package we booked which was rather nerve shredding but added to our excitement and we thoroughly enjoyed a good day out in exchange for a short video we were asked to make about it, which is featured on their facebook page and HERE.

Let's call it 'Beginners' Luck' shall we?!

Then and Now.

What was I thinking?  Goodness knows what came over me.

Perhaps some sort of amnesia?

It was short lived and shocked into submission, whatever it was.

There were days before children when I'd saunter off to stay at a Marriott or somewhere equally salubrious without a care in the world, a bag over my shoulder, carefree and happy, where the pool would be waiting, a steam room would quietly be spurting its smelly stuff and the relaxation chairs would be holding court with plumped up cushions calling for company in between.

But that was then.  This is now.

Now there are two bags to lug, two children in tow, me screaming at them to get their shoes on for the umpteenth time or we will be late and crying because we're going on holiday and supposed to be happy and it's such an ordeal to pack up the car and leave the house, despite being organized to the hilt the night before, that some deep breathing exercises are required to halt the tears before even pulling away.

On arrival at the posh hotel - booked as part of one of my son's competition win through contentandcalm via Rosie Scribble's blog a while ago - and one I chose myself so blame cannot be apportioned elsewhere - the short-lived amnesia was swiftly booted into touch.

What on earth had I been thinking?  Or not - it would seem.

My eldest stood wide -eyed staring at the youngest's antics, announcing loudly that 'he really should be on a remote.'

If only.

Already weighed down with luggage, snack-filled back-packs and colouring cases, trying to check-in, keeping control of him had not entered my mind.  Wide open spaces (the foyer) and special places for as fast as possible running (the corridors) were met at full pelt while his brother and I had to overcome our astounded surprise before dropping everything and trying to stop him (inadvertently adding to the game!).

Then we went 'swimming,' where, unfortunately for him, jumping was not allowed.  People want to be mellow - and who can blame them?  And then it hit me.

The closest I got to those loungers was looking at one lustfully, the sight of a sauna made me sulk and the pool itself, with two young boys, was anything but peaceful!

Yet when it came to dinner time, I would previously have taken this alone in my room.  Business trips meant staying at decent Hotels - holidays with friends would be different - still lovely, but not in establishments like these.

On the few occasions I might have tried dining in the restaurants or bars, the staff and other clientele would treat me like I was fair game or on the game.  Wandering around the streets in a strange city in the evening is generally not advisable, so I'd wear myself out in the gym, hit the spa and enjoy some peace and quiet before eating something delicious off my lap, happily watching some foreign telly.

But that was then.  This is now.

With the three of us heading towards the Brasserie later on, a waiter tipped me the wink that the Bar Restaurant wasn't as quiet as that one.  Feeling defiant, I decided to check it out anyhow.  Almost as much as a nanosecond passed before deciding he was right and whilst the kids delighted in the huge screen showing a football match, the realisation dawned deeper that as much as I try to retain some level of sophistication in our lives, it really is a losing battle.

This is now.  That was then.  And I absolutely wouldn't have it any other way.

Begging for bums!

Rosie Scribble - Single Mums' Story 8

Today we welcome the eponymous Rosie Scribble to give us her amusing account of how, sometimes, being a Single Mother can be so mis-construed.   

She is 38 and has a daughter, nicknamed IJ.  They live in Nottinghamshire, although they are planning to relocate to Yorkshire later this year.  She has a business degree, a CIM Professional Certificate in Marketing and a CAM Award in Integrating Digital Media and Branding. She works from home as a freelance writer, advises small businesses on how they can gain exposure online through social media and is currently in the process of setting up her own consultancy.  

Rosie has been blogging for over four years.  She is blogger ambassador for UNICEF and her work has taken her as far a field as Africa and Israel.  She writes about health, parenting and lifestyle issues, incorporating a documentation of her daily thoughts, opinions and experiences of life as a single parent.  When she's not blogging she can usually be found on Twitter or watching Lost on DVD.

Ladies and Gentlemen, La Creme de la Creme:  

Rosie Scribble.



Several months ago I spent an afternoon in the offices of a marketing agency. One of their clients was about to launch a low-priced range of frozen food. I won't go into the details, it’s probably confidential, but what I can say us that they were looking for ways to promote it.

They had drawn up a typical customer profile for the brand’s target customer and it turned out to be single mothers.

So they asked me to put myself in the shoes of a single mother. And they very kindly
gave me some help with this to make the task a little easier.

Apparently here a few facts about single mothers:

They regularly buy frozen food.
They love celebrity gossip.
They watch soap operas.
They read magazines like TV Quick.
There are interested in the tales of footballers wives.

Really? All single mothers?

Here are a few facts about me:

I rarely buy frozen food.
I have little interest in celebrity gossip.
I haven’t watched a soap opera in over a decade.
I’ve never read TV Quick.
I have no interest in the lives of footballers wives.

I’m also a single mother. Perhaps I should have mentioned that to the marketing
agency but their outdated stereotype threw me a little.

Obviously there’s nothing wrong with buying frozen food or watching soap operas or
any of the above, it’s all down to personal choice. What I do have a problem with is
the assumption that all single parents are exactly the same.

We’re not. Mothers - and fathers too - end up bringing up their children alone for a
whole variety of reasons that are often too complex for an outsider to understand. I
won’t go into my own personal circumstances here but you only have to look around
you to realize that no family is the same regardless of size and family set-up.

My daughter is eight and I’ve been a single mother for eight years. I went through a
pregnancy alone in a small flat with no one to turn to for support. I wouldn’t wish that
on anyone. An unmarried mother in a strict Catholic family was never going to be
well received, and outdated beliefs are difficult to change.

But I now have a beautiful daughter and a happy life. It did take some time to move
on from the dark years spent wondering how I would cope and what our future would
hold. It hasn’t been easy and it is a difficult time to reflect on, but life moves on and I
have too.

My days are now spent working from home and looking after a very lively daughter
who is fast approaching her teenage years. We’re incredibly close and benefit from a
very strong relationship. We’re busy planning a house move and I’m in the process of
setting up my own business, all things I never thought possible even a few years ago.

But above everything else, my worries about money, about the future and about
raising a happy child on my own have all been worth it. We’ve had our challenges
and we’ve both felt the isolation of a very small family unit at times, but we’re a great
little team and I count myself as incredibly lucky. I know many women who would do
anything to be able to call themselves Mum.

As for the marketing agency and their low-priced frozen food. I wish them well. Just
don’t assume I’ll be buying it.

Find other Single Mums' Stories here -
Kairen (Confessions of a Single Mum) Varker
Annie (Mammasaurus) Spratt.,
Ellen (In a Bun Dance ) Arnison,
Katy (All Sweetness and Life) Horwood,
Sarah (St Bloggie de Riviere) Hague,
Mel (HerMelness Speaks) Fargo.
Anonymous friend