Happily Imperfect

‘Move over,’ Jemma hissed at me, wiggling her bum into the space where I was trying to sit.

‘No, you move. Muuum, Jemma’s sitting on me!’ I wailed.

All three of us were crammed into the tiniest, ugliest brown leather sofa you can possibly imagine.

‘Listen, you three. This is important,’ said Mum. ‘We’re going to divorce because me and your dad love each other but we’re not in love any more.’

There was silence, broken by Jemma bursting into tears.

‘Oh,’ was all I managed to say. Jemma was very upset, and I assumed I should be too, but our parents made it so easy and friendly that I wasn’t sad for long. Matthew took it hardest. He was only seven when they split up, so he found it really confusing.

I’d had no clue that Mum and Dad’s relationship was ending. They were so amicable, though we always knew when Mum was having a little cry about it: she’d hoover downstairs and we knew not to disturb her.

I think Mum had been feeling neglected because Dad worked so hard setting up his photographic company, but the reasons for their separation were never discussed. I always felt it was their business, not ours. Dad moved out, and not long afterwards he bought the house in our road. Each week, Mum had us from Sunday to Wednesday, Dad would pick us up from school on Wednesday and we’d stay with him for the rest of the week. They made it so smooth. They did the most selfless thing by putting us first.

A few years later, in 2000, when I was at the end of primary school, Dad met Karen. He introduced us to her that summer. Instantly, we loved her and she loved us. All credit to my mum, she made a huge effort to be nice to Karen and they got on really well. If Mum hadn’t liked her, we’d have struggled.

As an adult, I look back at that time and can see how difficult it must have been for Karen, fitting into a close family. She and her children, Aaron, Samantha and Ray, came on holiday to Turkey with us, and it must have been strange being there with all of us, including my mum, while she was starting a new relationship. Dad was so happy, and she was such a lovely lady, that the holiday didn’t feel awkward at all. I’ll never forget that Karen bought me a book for the plane, The Prince of Egypt. It was the first time our new extended family had had a holiday together. To me, it was exciting, different and lovely. Dad was happy. Karen was happy – and so were we.

Once Dad and Karen had moved in together, half of our week was spent with our bigger family. The first time my new step-siblings stayed overnight with us, I insisted my new sister Sam slept in my bunk with me. When it came to bedtime, we lay there silently for what seemed like ages. It was really awkward. I didn’t know her or she me. All of a sudden Sam put her foot out and caught the white sheet, which made me exclaim that her foot looked like Julius Caesar because it was wrapped in a toga.

‘It’s Julius Cheeser!’ one of us yelled, and then we were laughing. We laughed so loudly and for so long that Dad had to come and tell us to stop. After that, whenever we stayed over, there’d be silence, then one of us would shout, ‘Julius Cheeser!’ We still do it today –though we’ve given up sharing a bunk bed!

I don’t know how Dad and Karen could afford to feed us. We’d walk in from school and all six of us would head straight to the fridge. Most of the time Dad cooked.

One evening we’d all sat down at the table. ‘Oi, budge up, Stace,’ Matt said, elbowing me in the ribs.

‘Hey, watch it! I’m bigger than you,’ I retorted, giving my little brother a mock-grimace.

‘Yes, yes, Stace, you look terrifying.’ Dad grinned. ‘Now, everyone, sit still and let me put this down.’ He was carrying a large baking dish, which he put in the centre of the table with a flourish. There was a brief moment of silence while we registered the food, then the babble started up again, with laughing, fighting, teasing and squabbling.

I looked around me, knowing my life was messy but utterly complete. My new step-mum, Karen, was laughing at one end of the table, while Dad served up huge portions of his homemade shepherd’s pie. My sister Jemma, my polar opposite in character, was chatting to our stepsister Sam, while stepbrothers Aaron and Ray (and later half-brother Josh) mucked about with Matt. It was a glorious mish-mash of children and adults, our blended family in action.

‘Arrgh, Dad! You’ve put loads of chilli in it again!’ I shouted, feeling the sudden burn.

‘It’s meant to be shepherd’s pie!’ Matt gulped down a glass of water.

Dad beamed, as happy as anything with his latest creation, while we coughed and went bright red in the face. I’d never seen so much water drunk so quickly by a group of children! Other times, we’d be sweating from the heat of the spices he’d jazzed up our dinner with, and he’d never relent.

‘If you don’t eat it, there’s nothing at all,’ Dad would say, and I’m the same with my boys, except I don’t lace everything with chilli. I leave that to my father.

Afterwards we bickered as usual over who would wash, dry or put away the dishes. No one ever wanted to dry them. The job everyone wanted was putting away and we fought fiercely over it.

My family has given me the strongest moral compass. They taught me always to try to do the right thing, and to know how important people are. They taught me to have compassion and empathy: you never know what someone is struggling with. They may seem grumpy but they could be going through a very bad patch. Living with so many family members taught me to have consideration for others, and patience, especially when they’re enduring difficult emotions. When I complained about my sisters or brothers, one or other of my parents would say, ‘Hang on, Stace, don’t just think about yourself. Look at why they’re acting the way they are.’

That message has stayed with me, and I’m so grateful to them for that perspective. My family showed me that we could stand together and help one another, even during a divorce, and that we can have so much fun together. Just having each other was enough.

This became the blueprint for my parenting. I hope I’m able to be a smidgen of the parent to my kids that my mum and dad, and stepmother Karen, were to me. I really hope that with my boys I can bring joy into the simple things, without lots of stuff, the way I was brought up.

I want the values that were instilled in me – kindness, consideration for others, tolerance for people around me, togetherness and love – to be passed down to my children. I work really hard to achieve that. I’m just so grateful for everything my family did for me, and everything they still do today.

I wouldn’t be the person I am today without my family. I have a huge amount of respect and admiration for everyone in it. I can’t imagine what it’s like not to have a family unit as close and loving as mine. Meeting Karen made me realize that family doesn’t have to be blood-related. Anyone we love can be a surrogate parent, sibling, aunt or uncle to us. Family can be anyone – friends, pets, partners: it doesn’t have to be biological to be real.

My family set-up isn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination. My parents divorced, and we blended two families together. I have two children by different partners, and now I’m not with either of them. Yet, despite that, we have thrived and loved, and I feel so fortunate we have each other. Why do we worry about being a perfect family? There’s no such thing, only the love we have for those closest to us.

My parents’ behaviour was a huge influence on the way we dealt with the divorce. It was their positivity that made our lives carry on so smoothly. There are lots of circumstances in which it is impossible to have that kind of break-up – I’ve discovered that in my own relationship history. It is also worth noting that it is completely out of any child’s hands as to how their parents deal with separation or divorce. It’s wholly up to them, and many may be unable to move on without conflict or difficulty. We all try to do the best we can.

It’s important to recognize also that the breakdown of relationships doesn’t necessarily define our parenting. We can make mistakes, or find we can’t deal with our exes as easily as perhaps we’d like. That doesn’t mean we’ve failed. It just means that real life is challenging and complex – and family relationships most of all.

I believe that my children can become whoever they want to become, despite our immediate family circumstances. I have to strive to be the parent I want to be, providing a happy and steady home for my boys that is full of love. It’s all I can do.

I try to stay positive and kind about all the people involved in raising my children, which, although it can be tough at times, it is of the utmost importance to me as being a single mum isn’t easy. That would be my main piece of advice to anyone who is reassessing their tribe right now.

My family is my backbone. Every day I give thanks for each and every one of them.

STAY POSITIVE

My parents were united as parents, regardless of what was going on between them, and they always spoke about each other in a positive light, with love and respect. I try hard to do the same with my own children and their fathers. It isn’t easy, none of this is, but when I look at how happy my boys are, I know it’s worth the extra effort.

How can you be more positive in your family relationships? Are there relatives or partners you can deal with more gently, or be more understanding about their troubles or behaviour? Can you stop yourself reacting in a negative way, even just a little? Your tribe is just that, your group of other flawed people trying to do their best, often in ways that may not be comfortable for you. It’s when I see this that I remember love is a verb, and I can choose to express it in my actions, even if that means biting my tongue.

CHAPTER 5

Recipes That Say Love (Version 1) (#ulink_277b98f1-28d1-5d33-877d-2bcff64e71f6)

Getting a word in edgeways around our dining-table at mealtimes, especially on Friday night, was impossible unless you learnt to shout, make people laugh or debate passionately. With six siblings, and relatives coming out of the floorboards, we still have supper together on every Sabbath because it’s our tradition. I have at least fifteen people round my table.

Pretty much everything about my personality was formed round the dining-table. I learnt to talk really fast, like really fast, so I could get out what I needed to say before someone interrupted me. My head has always been filled with a million thoughts – and a million things to say. I guess my telly career thrives because of this so I’m very happy with this imperfection!

When you’re one of seven children, you aren’t heard if you don’t talk loudly. I learnt how to debate, how to engage in adult conversation, and I learnt about love. It was served up each evening amid the noise and the elbowing, the jokes and the occasional tears. Now, food for me is a form of love, and I serve it up to my boys every evening. I spend a lot of my life cooking. I see it as my service to my family, and all of it, absolutely all of it, expresses the love I feel for them. Friday-night dinner is the heart of our week, and has been since I was a child.

All these recipes are filled to the brim with love – the love oozes from them – and I dish it up unapologetically. I tell my boys I love them a hundred times a day, and that’s still not enough for me.

Nana’s Chicken Soup and Kneidlach

Nana always had a pot of her Jewish penicillin bubbling on the stove. Nowadays it would be described as ‘bone broth’ and sold for six pounds a pop in trendy Shoreditch, but it has been the staple of our lives. The chicken is usually a broiler bought from a kosher butcher so it has no giblets, but you can use any old chicken, though I’m told organic is best. This soup is meant to simmer from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. for the best flavour but two hours is fine!

Serves 4

You’ll need:

For the chicken soup

1 x 1.5kg broiler chicken or any chicken will do

1 onion, peeled and roughly chopped

2 sticks of celery, roughly chopped