Happily Imperfect. Stacey Solomon

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СКАЧАТЬ ‘Don’t go! Don’t leave me!’ I was never one for understatement.

      I was eight years old when my parents sat us down one day and told us they were separating.

      ‘Jemma, Stace, Matt, we’ve got something to tell you,’ Dad began.

      ‘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 СКАЧАТЬ