Released On 17 November 2025
Barbara's blog: Still Their Safe Place
The other day I came across an old episode of Sex and the City, in which Charlotte and Miranda talk about their experiences of motherhood. Taking it in turn to sip their cocktail, they become brutally honest about their feelings on the need for even the most devoted parent to regularly take a break from constantly being at the beck and call of their young children, (“Take a sip!”), on the devastating loneliness of the long nights with a crying baby, (“Take a sip!”), on the fear of failing, (“Take a sip!), on the guilt that being a mother is not enough, and that it’s ok to miss your job and your colleagues. And although the show portrays the lives of wealthy and privileged women in the glamorous New York Cityscape and is therefore quite far removed from most people’s lives and from real hardship, the truth of those words was powerful then as it is now.
In 2011, when that episode was aired, I had two children of four and five years old, a full-time job in London, a husband that worked shifts and a live-in au-pair. Life was busy, messy and complicated, but when I think about those days, it’s not the exhaustion from juggling different priorities or the frustration of never having any time for myself that comes to mind: it’s seeing the kids’ faces light up with delight when I got home from work, it’s snuggling in bed to read a favourite story, it’s their infectious and hysterical giggling when playing with Dad. And the love, so much love.
Is it that easy to forget that parenting it’s hard and full of sacrifices? I did a quick poll with friends and colleagues. Most people were nostalgic about the baby years and missed those bundles of warm, soft cuteness that trigger the fiercest maternal instincts. The sleepless nights and the drudgery of the endless feed/nap/change repeat cycle were mentioned in passing, but everybody agreed that once babies learn to smile, they hold the key to your heart in their tiny hand and all is forgiven and forgotten.
The toddler years were the next favourite. Children start to express themselves, make choices and walk some distance without needing a buggy thus building a bit more independence whilst still remaining loving towards their parents. Also, school starts and so do friendships, birthday parties, and the sweetest notes and drawings for Mum and Dad. We watch them grow, take in the world around them like a curious puppy exploring an enchanted garden. We want to protect them but also let them blossom.
Nobody chose the teenage years as their favourite developmental phase except me, and my opinion was vociferously contested. But I am having the best time supporting Son and Daughter who are now 18 and 19 years old respectively. I am constantly learning from their resilience - the original Covid cohort that learned online and adapted to socialising in lockdown restrictions - and from their agility in navigating the good, the bad and the ugly of the digital world they live in. Different personalities call for a bespoke approach to parenting: Daughter is a first year Fine Art student at Camberwell UAL and trying to carve her own artistic style in a very crowded space so needs validation of her talent and encouragement to push out of her comfort zone. Son has deferred his degree offer and has taken a year out to work. He is maturing and turning into a strong-willed but kind young man. I am constantly walking a tightrope of being present without fussing, texting instead of calling (which suits the introverted in me!), learning to let them make their own decisions and inevitably helping them to pick up the pieces of their disappointments. As a society, we worry so much - and with good cause - about the challenges of the online world for young people, while we should perhaps be focusing more on investing in their offline lives.
Daughter turns 20 years old in January: besides musing about how fast time passes I have realised that, upon entering her third decade, she will no longer be a teenager. Nevertheless, I will continue to invest in her and Son’s offline lives and ensure they still have a safe place.
Barbara works as an environmental strategist for the aviation regulator and lives a stone’s throw from the South Downs, with her 19-year-old creative daughter, 18-year-old ingenious son and supportive husband.
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