Childless travellers

Ten or fifteen years ago, I was able to embrace travelling without children. Twenty years ago or more, I was still feeling the loss and grief, and there were plenty of ouch moments. But travelling now, in our ... gulp ... 60s, we are just another pair of grey-haired travellers, enjoying the off-season lack of tourists. I rarely even think about my childless state when I travel now. 

Until you realise that you're travelling in half-term. That happened twice - once in Scotland, and again a few weeks later in England. Suddenly we were surrounded by families. In Scotland it was fine. We arrived in Glasgow, and suddenly saw lots of families, a funfare with carousel etc in one of the pedestrian-only streets, and figured out what was happening. The hotel we were staying in was very much designed with adults in mind. Very NOT children-friendly. So we enjoyed some lovely pre-dinner drinks in the bar, and a delicious multi-course menu in their excellent restaurant. Eating out elsewhere was a little different. We went to a fun Indian restaurant, and saw several families. Next to us was a father and a couple of kids. One was a teenager, who barely spoke. The younger one was more chatty, but it was difficult to watch them. Maybe they were giving their mother a few hours of peace, or maybe this was a result of a half-term holiday visitation, after a separation. It was nice to see them together, but I felt sorry for them, not me. The teenager seemed starved, the dad seemed awkward. I'm not judging. But I hoped they would relax more as the week continued.

In England, we saw families in a lot of different spots. The sheer numbers meant that we didn't explore some places we had intended to (not that I was bothered). I saw families out in nature, which was lovely. Some of the kids were enjoying themselves, some seemed not to be. (Probably wishing they were home with their devices/computer games/friends, etc.) It reminds me now of my niece who informed me, whilst she was recently on a trip to the US for the first time, that the things her parents liked doing were "insanely boring!" I laughed, but felt a little sorry for my sister and her husband too. My sister-in-law and her family have also just travelled to Europe for Christmas. Even though they had a great time, on returning home my SIL said, "I think it's just easier to travel when it's just (Husband) and me."

I'm glad none of my trips have been ruined by ungrateful teenagers. I'm glad that I haven't had to figure out what children want to do when travelling, or feel that I was tearing them away from friends or boyfriends or activities they'd prefer. Yes, I'd have loved to have had the opportunity to instil my love of travel into my own children, but by observing others, this isn't always easy or even possible. So I'm glad I can still feel that unadulterated joy of a new place, experience, or activity without having it tempered by guilt or angst about whether the children were having fun. A parent might find that attitude is selfish. But when it's my only option, I think embracing it and appreciating what I've got is actually just an example of pure gratitude.

Looking back on the blog: 2024

It's become a habit now to review the year gone by. I've just done it also on A Separate Life, although it seems harder this year because so much of 2024 seems a very long time ago now!

So, back to the blog. I wrote 55 posts here in 2024, which is pretty good considering I was away or sick for almost four months of the year. (I will admit that I feel quite proud of writing and scheduling three months of blog posts before I left!) I'm not sure about recurring themes this year, although the book that included my essay was a topic I kept returning to, simply because so many of the other authors made me think. Otherhood then, was a key theme, and I finally published my No Kidding essay here in October.

No Kidding: My Otherhood Essay

It is harder to keep finding things to write about that are specifically related to my No Kidding status. I'm not grieving any more, I'm not recovering, and I'm not surrounded by people with small children. All my friends and most of my family now have children who are adults, and so aren't part of their day to day lives. My life is very different. I know some bloggers have moved on to concentrating on ageing issues - I've written plenty about that - or who have just said, "ok, that's enough, I don't need to write any more." I'd find it hard to stop, I think, so I'm just going to see where the blog and my readers and comments take me in 2025.

So this once again brings me to the fact that the first week of January is blog delurking week, as Mel at Stirrup Queens reminded me. Do leave a quick hello in the comments (I’m fine with anonymous comments if you’re shy) or send a quick email to me at nokiddinginnz at gmail dot com. I'd love to know who else is reading here.

And whether you comment or not, whether you’re a long time reader or have just stumbled across me for the first time, I want you to know how much I appreciate you.

Hoping you all have a very safe and happy 2025!

Gratitude with covid

Well, it's been a miserable couple of weeks. As of yesterday, I was still testing positive. I've had a lot of severe pain, both because covid triggered another pain condition I have, and for sinus pain. I still had a bout of that today, though yesterday was better, but overall I think I'm improving! DH has tested positive, took paxlovid (he qualified under our health system, and I didn't) and is now negative again and has been out on the golf course with his buddies. Doesn't seem fair! 

So I'm just grateful that I didn't have to put on a brave face for anyone over this festive season, and that I could be thoroughly miserable and look after myself. But it was a bit hard seeing all the "happy" wishes on social media, and the happy faces with the extended families. It's New Year's Eve tonight, a festival I dislike because of its forced celebration, but again, I have an excuse not to be celebrating. Besides, it's cold and raining (yes, it's summer, but this is NZ and our weather is nothing if not unpredictable), so a cosy night with some binge watching will be just what the doctor ordered.

I do want to say I'm grateful you are still reading, and that there are new voices popping up from time to time. I'm hoping 2025 will be wonderful for you all, but if not, that there will be pockets of love and joy and friendship that help you through, just as you help me through. Sending love.

Holiday, holidays, and covid

This is the first time I've signed in to No Kidding in NZ for over three months! As I mentioned on Monday (here) on A Separate Life, I've been away on an extended trip. Unfortunately, security issues required me to be quiet on the blogosphere about my travels, given that I’m open about where I live, I’ve posted photos of my house, and, unlike many years ago when we travelled for six months, my real name can be associated with this blog. So I didn’t want to advertise our absence too much. Unlike previous long trips, our friends are no longer working in the city, so couldn’t drop in and stay for a night or two every week, so we were a bit more concerned about security this time. I wrote and scheduled all my posts in advance, because I knew it would be too hard to do so on the road. I also find it horrible to log into blogger on my phone/ipad, so I really apologise that I haven't been able to respond to comments etc, even though I have been reading them. I am going to go back now and read them and comment! If you stuck it through to December with me, then I am very grateful.

I'll reveal much more about our trip in due course. We had a wonderful time. I got to meet up with some old ectopic-messageboard friends, unfortunately missed Bamberlamb due to scheduling, and got to meet former blogger and author Lesley Pyne in London just before we flew home. 

We arrived home last Monday, giving me plenty of time (or so I thought) to clean the house, decorate my tree, do all the seasonal baking, write some blogposts, and be ready for Christmas. Unfortunately when we got home I began ailing, quickly tested positive for covid the following day, and have been laid up ever since. Today is the first day I've even made it upstairs to my laptop. So much for plans.

Though on the bright side, if I was going to catch covid on the trip, coming down with it as we arrived home was the best possible time.

It will just be the two of us. That was always the plan. I'm pretty miserable, and need another nap on the couch, so unless I improve rapidly in the next day or two, there'll be little celebration here. That's fine. It's the end of a long year, and I hope for you it passes peacefully whether you celebrate or not. I'm looking forward to the rest of summer (having missed the start of it in Europe), and health returning.

Sending love 

Formerly-absent-but-now-returned Mali

PS. Here are some previous seasonal posts to help anyone who might be struggling:

Reclaiming Christmas – written way back in December 2010, only my second month of blogging (though my seventh year of No Kidding Christmases)

Holiday Season: If Money were No Object 

You are Not Alone

Childless at Christmas

My 2016 Annual Holiday Post

Four Rules of Surviving Christmas for No Kidding women

The Season and Traditions

Success stories

Humans aren’t born with a fear of failure. Failure is how we learn. I wish as girls we had all been taught that, encouraged to embrace it. I’ve seen girls terrified of failure, maybe instilled from parents or family or a society that holds up behaviours and expectations that are impossible to achieve. They see their mothers subjected to standards of being able to achieve and have “it all” when their fathers are not subjected to that. They learn that failure is shameful. When actually, it means that at least they tried.

And so when women start to face infertility, they have already been trained to achieve what is expected of them. People assume infertility issues are those of the woman. People judge women without children very differently from how they judge men without children. We’re expected to achieve in our careers and social lives and marriages, and part of that achievement is to have children. So when infertility looms, our fear of failure is accentuated.

I hate that fertility is talked about in such strong, success/failure terms. It's one of the reasons I refuse to use the “failure” word when I talk about IVF cycles that don’t result in a pregnancy or even a live birth. The truth is, we are not responsible for fertility treatment that doesn’t get the result we were looking for. The medical profession don’t know why some cycles result in pregnancy and some don’t. I had a specialist who once said to me, “we know more about the surface of the moon than we do about women’s reproductive systems.” So really, we should never feel as if we have failed. The treatment might not have worked. But failure is a very strong term. It’s not through lack of application, or desire, or commitment. It’s due solely to biological processes working differently than we and our doctors had hoped. To me, that’s not a failure.

I know. It’s easy to say that now. But it’s how I feel. Biology is responsible. There’s no failure. I don’t feel a failure, or even that my body failed me. It did everything it could! The only failure would be if we refused to accept the outcome and the resultant life we have for the rest of our lives. That’s why, at the risk of repetition, I think that so many of the childless are actually the true success stories of infertility. That despite not getting what we wanted, we are still prospering, living good lives, feeling contented and happy, and being decent people. Not taking advantage of the life I had would be the true failure. 

Don’t you agree?