Blog or die!
picture by Plasticsturgeon
Yes, I have been slack. I forget how important it is to blog routinely, so that I stay fresh and fluid with my thoughts and feelings. Truth is, my life is in upheaval and has been for the past several months. I’m still reeling.
First, mother-in-law had a serious asthma attack, which she survived, but she is now bedridden and feeble. I surprise myself, using that word, ‘feeble’. She would have hated anyone using that word with reference to her.
And I am still dealing with the emotional fall-out from her near miss, and how my blogging about her here hurt some family members who felt it was too private to blog about. They were right. I hope they can forgive me.
Journalling has been part of my life for so long now that I feel unbalanced if I go too long without leaving some kind of record, whether I’m jotting notes in a notebook, scribbling it down on paper, contributing to a forum or blogging proper, it is some kind of compulsion. I always feel better after hitting the Publish button. I highly recommend it as a therapy.
Sometimes the words flow and I know exactly what I’m writing about. Other times the meaning evolves and it’s not until I type that summary sentence that I realise, “Oh, so that’s what this is about!” Sometimes it’s simply an emotional purge that will be lost to oblivion when I hit the X and close the window without hitting publish. I do that more than you realise, dear reader.
But it isn’t as rewarding as putting my ’stuff’, both the good AND bad, out there in the public realm and getting a response back from some generous reader saying, ‘I have been there, too’.
But after removing my offensive previous post, there were no words to fill the empty space. I felt my words had dried up, which is an unhealthy place for an aspiring writer to be. I had to get on with the business of real life, tending to the children and the daily grind of school lunches and taxi-ing them around, attending uni for myself and fulfilling the assessment requirements, plus my extra-curricular Masters project and the school P&C (which I am failing at miserably), as well as systematically working through the FBC newsletter, which I have only begun to edit, as well as maintaining relationships with my friends - who are having their own tough times - and my significant other, darling hubby, whose needs always get pushed to the back of the line when things get overwhelming. At such times you just know that something’s going to give.
So now a dose of chicken pox is plaguing the family, I have no choice but to slow down and take stock. It was a good decision to pull everyone, even those who remained pox-less, out of school and work and to just be at home as a family while we wait for the scourge to pass. This week has been a breath of fresh air. I am reminded that keeping life simple and keeping family together are about the only important things there are. Without all the rushing and driving and social obligations I am a calmer person and a better mother and all of a sudden I rediscover my inner writer and those words that have eluded me for so long begin, once again, to flow.
August 27th, 2010 - Posted in community, sustainability, grief, health, self-care | | 4 Comments
Guest post
12 words by Kate
I’m growing
because I’m listening….to me,
not copying others.
Being myself.
August 10th, 2010 - Posted in personal growth, haiku, wisdom, self-care | | 1 Comments
12 words
The micro story isn’t new. Ernest Hemingway once said his six-word story, Baby Shoes, was his favourite. “For sale: baby shoes: never used”
Gertrude Stein beat him with a shorter story still called Longer “She stayed away longer.” More recently, New York based writer, Amy Hempel wrote a twelve-word story – Memoir – “Just once in my life. Oh, when have I ever wanted anything just once in my life.”
What we love about the micro story is that it is accessible for everyone. Whether you are a published writer or you have never written any fiction before, you can give this a go and enjoy it. It’s also quick to text, email and tweet.
There are also loads of sites with micro blogs and very short stories on them, see our links below, and suggest more if you know of any.
Gratitude to Kate for sharing this link, and for her 12 words, which will be posted next.
August 9th, 2010 - Posted in learning, personal growth, play, community, wisdom | | 0 Comments
Guest post
picture by Peter Becker
Having an Only Child by Emilia Liz
The other day my mother and I were sorting through my daughter’s old baby clothes. We put them in two piles, one for things she could wear in the upcoming months and another for those she had already outgrown. We debated what to do with the second pile of clothing: should we give it to my brother and sister-in-law, who are considering having a third child; send it out West to my newly married cousin and his wife; or donate it to the Salvation Army or some other charity? For now we’re keeping it on hold. One option that didn’t come up, though, was saving it for me in case I have another baby. It suddenly struck me: my daughter Gabriella Michelle will probably be my only child.
I didn’t deliberately set out to have only one child. Over the years my ideas on family size have changed. When I was young, I wanted four children, just like my mother’s family of origin with her, my aunt and their two brothers. Then I entered a “the-world’s-too-awful-to-bring-children-into” phase (it’s called adolescence). After I got engaged in college, my then-fiancé and I pictured a family of two children, a girl and a boy. But eventually I came to like the notion of an only child. This preference was driven home to me by various babysitting experiences. While I love spending time with my niece and nephew and having them play with my daughter, I realize I can’t handle more than one small child at once.
An alternative to having an only child is waiting six years or so for when my daughter is no longer so dependent on me. Given that I’m forty years old now, however, by that time there’s a good chance I’ll either be infertile or, in the event of a pregnancy, at higher risk of problems like miscarriage or Down syndrome. There are other options besides the so-called “natural way,” namely reproductive technologies and adoption. I’ve never seriously considered the first: while I’m by no means against reproductive technologies, what might be appropriate for, say, a childless couple in their thirties would not feel right for me, a woman over forty with a biological child.
On the other hand, I have looked into adoption more closely. But my chances of expanding my family this way also seem slim. Foreign adoption is expensive, not only in terms of fees for the process itself but in wages lost from time taken off work to travel to the country in question. In addition, my age, marital status (I’m in a so-called “visiting relationship” but not legally married), and the fact I already have a biological child would probably place me at the bottom of a prospective adoptive parents list. I’ve explored domestic adoption as well. Unfortunately, most of the kids available here in Canada have emotional and/or developmental problems due to neglect, prenatal exposure to alcohol, etcetera, and I don’t personally feel capable of raising a child with these kinds of issues. (Of note, I once ended a relationship with a man with manic depression partly for fear any children we would have might inherit his condition.) On one website I examined there was a single child I would have considered adopting – a beautiful East Indian girl with a purely physical handicap – but lo and behold, the next time I checked the site she was gone, placed with a family. And I’m sure that if I had applied to take her I would have been competing with other families viewed as more suitable than mine, for the reasons mentioned above.
So now I basically have accepted that I’ll probably have only one child in this lifetime. Most of the time, I think of the positives in this. They include being able to spend more time with my daughter, in volunteer activities, and at solitary endeavours such as writing this article. The extra time with my daughter has created a special closeness between us (not that parents with two or more children can’t be close to each one of them). For me, it’s not so much the “quality moments” that I cherish but rather the simple things like singing with her as I do the dishes, carrying her around the neighbourhood in my “pouch” (Baby Bjorn), and reading her the stories she loves. I also appreciate the fact I don’t have to deal with trying to divide myself between two small children who both need my attention, worrying about money, or breaking up sibling squabbles. Don’t get me wrong: I admire people like my brother and sister-in-law who can handle two or more small children at one time. I just don’t know if I could do the same.
With any decision, whether it’s living without children, having only one child, or reproducing a la Michelle Duggar (American woman with 18 kids at last count), there are pros and cons. On the rare occasion I’ll get the urge for a second baby, small and sweet like my little girl. My biggest questions, however, have to do with my daughter herself. Am I harming her by depriving her of a brother or sister? My mom once told me the good thing about siblings is that they are still there when your parents are gone. One book called siblinghood the longest-lasting bond. On the practical side, if I become incapacitated in my old age will my daughter resent not having someone else to share the burden of caring for me with? Overall, though, I’m confident she’ll be fine. I’ve researched the academic literature on the effect of being an only child versus having siblings, and it’s been fairly reassuring: some studies show only children do better than their peers; others suggest they suffer disadvantages; and still more find no difference between the two groups.
Of course my lifestyle is not for everybody. Though I don’t like societal attitudes that label parents of onlies as “selfish” or only children as “spoiled brats,” I don’t have any problem with the two-child family being the norm. And my situation could change. I might find myself in a new relationship and choose to have a child to cement it. Maybe my daughter will demand a brother or sister. Or I could develop a sudden craving for another baby for no reason at all. (Of note, I haven’t had a tubal ligation, so the possibility of having a biological child is probably still open to me for another three or four years). But in all likelihood I will remain a mother of one, and I am content with this.
July 12th, 2010 - Posted in gratitude, parenthood, grief, beliefs, wisdom | | 2 Comments
Introducing Emma
picture by mr. toaster
Strong women?
If there’s one thing I miss from my pre-kids life, it’s disappearing onto the road. I used to do a lot of long-distance travel, mostly on my own. Driving for eleven hours straight across the Hay plains, down dirt roads, finding a cheap motel in the middle of nowhere or sleeping in the back seat when I got too tired. Hours at a time with nothing but my own thoughts, and my voice cracking when I use it for the first time all day to pay for petrol. Like Tracey Chapman’s “Fast Car”, the car has always been my independence, escape, and protection.
My last trip pre-kids was to Kakadu during the dry season, seven years ago. I pitched a tent with no fly over top so I could watch the stars as I fell asleep. I listened to indigenous rangers talk about rock art and kinship systems, walked down to the water hoping I didn’t see any crocs, and watched slow burns clearing the dry grass.
I went into the shop on my last night to get a can of beans for dinner, and had a chat with a young woman who had moved there from the Kimberleys to get work. She told me how she knew this guy, David Gulpilil, who wanted to make a movie about Australia set in Arnhem Land. He wanted the world to see how beautiful the place is, and they were talking to big Hollywood celebrities to come do the movie. She hoped to get work as a cook when the movie starting shooting.
Later that night, she spotted me in the bar and we played a game of pool (I’m the worst player ever). It was her first night back in the bar after a three week ban for getting in a fight (she said self-protection), and she was celebrating. When she asked why I wasn’t drinking, I told her I was getting married in six weeks and hoping to have babies, so I was getting my body ready. And she said something that really stunned me: “We need more strong women like you.”
I’ve never seen myself as strong. Here was a young woman, prepared to move hundreds or even thousands of miles from her family, dealing with the combined discrimination against indigenous people and women… and she thought I was strong.
I still don’t know what strength she saw in me. But I hope she got to work in Arnhem Land. It’s beautiful country, I’d love to go back sometime. Although I guess the car trip won’t be about solitude next time.
Emma blogs at www.emmadavidson.wordpress.com
July 8th, 2010 - Posted in parenthood, community, beliefs, wisdom, health, self-care | | 2 Comments
