Being a parent is possibly the hardest job ever. When your little one is a newborn there’s the struggle of trying to establish some sort of routine whilst wading through a sleep-deprived fuddle. Then they become mobile and there’s the constant worry of whether they’re going to run into the road or stick their fingers into a plug socket. As they grow, questions of morality and teaching them how to be a good person come into play. 

Since becoming a mum to Lyra I have a new found respect for both of my parents. My dad was a single parent to my brother and I from when I was six years old, and not a day goes by where I don’t appreciate how tough it must have been for both my mum and my dad. As the situation was a little unusual – according to this article only around 13% of single parent families in the U.K. are headed up by the father – I thought I would get my dad’s perspective on being a single parent.

Ian {Lisa’s Dad}

I’m looking back nearly thirty years here. To the start of perhaps the most rewarding episode of my life – becoming a single dad to a six-year-old Lisa and her little four-year-old brother. I recall worrying if I’d cope – if we’d cope – and then being encouraged and reassured by the marvellous folk who peopled that unique community we called home.  Picture it: a university on the coast of Saudi Arabia with a large international expat family compound, the size of a small town.  Safe, comfortable and exciting.  Kids could ride their bikes from shaded playground to playground, roll down sand dunes into the warm sea, enjoy the resource-rich educational facilities.  I treasure the memories of those times, when we shared seemingly endless adventures in the desert, or on our catamaran, or singing round campfires at the beach.  I remember my pride at their learning to read and admiring the artistic creations they conjured up at school, and remember too, how we’d make our own stories and our own games.  Perhaps Lisa’s plaited hair was not as neat as her friend’s, perhaps their lunch-boxes were less appealing; yet I don’t recall them ever complaining.  For two years Saudi Arabia was good to us and we thrived.

Then it was time to call UK home.  Ever keen for adventure, we drove there in our VW Kombi, taking three fascinating weeks.  We settled in Stafford: new schools, new friends, new routines.  We lived an entirely different life now, yet we were still very close, enjoying outdoor adventures whenever the opportunity arose.  Only now they rode bigger bikes on longer trails.   In retrospect, it’s as if time speeded up as their teens approached.  Suddenly, it now seems, they became independent.  Sleep-overs, sports fixtures, strange music.  Next, a few whirlwind years when the logistics of work and home-keeping were complicated by becoming an adolescents’ taxi service.  But there were constantly fresh rewards: school reports glowed and they both seemed happy and confident in their well-chosen friendships.  Driving licences and degrees followed so very quickly, leading to different horizons for each of us.  Three new directions, and the role of ‘single dad’ has increasingly transformed into a precious, distant memory of wonderful days with two wonderful little people.

Have you got any experience of being raised by a single parent or of being a single parent yourself? Do you have any tips for raising kids single-handedly?