Chicken pox
picture by nursing pins
We’ve been in quarantine for a couple of weeks now, since Miss Eight broke out in her rash. Initially, I kept the whole family home to ensure everyone caught it (thus giving them valuable immunity for the future) and to prevent us passing it on to everyone else at school. Short-sightedly, I sent the boys back to school after a week when they didn’t develop secondary symptoms (ie, the itchy rash associated with chicken pox). They were missing so much school and more than half the kids there have now contracted the virus, so what’s the point, right? Well, I sincerely hope we haven’t infected anyone else (who didn’t want to be infected) but that’s all spilt milk now.
Now the other three kids have developed their rash and, aside from general crankiness, they seem to be tolerating the discomfort very well. We chose not to vaccinate for what is normally a fairly harmless childhood illness. Dear husband remembers having chicken pox as a child, and so do I, so we figured we were safe being exposed to the kids. Most interesting to me: many of the children immunised against chicken pox at the kids’ school are still contracting it - albeit, usually in a milder form (but not always).
And even though my mother claims that I have had chicken pox twice in my life, I still assumed that having them, even once, equates with some sort of immunity. Apparently not. Darling hubby has now contracted a second case of chicken pox in this lifetime, and he is not a happy camper. His rash is mild but the migraine headache that seems to be the major symptom of adult chicken pox has knocked him flat. I feel terrible for him, but guess who ends up playing nurse … again!
While I anticipate at least one friend is going to want to bring her kids over and expose them to the virus, I can acknowledge that vaccinating against childhood illness is a choice we all get to make at some point in our parenting journey. I take responsibility for the decisions I’ve made with regard to my children’s health and I don’t like to be scare-mongered by doctors and friends who think that just because a vaccination is offered it should be accepted. Are we messing with the health of our children (and future grandchildren and beyond) by opting to vaccinate against otherwise ordinary childhood illnesses? I’m not so willing to choose convenience in this generation, without understanding how it might impact on the next.
September 5th, 2010 - Posted in gratitude, childhood, partnership, parenthood, duty of care, beliefs, health | | 2 Comments
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
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
Hibernation
picture by Riebart
I’m pre-menstrual as hell. It probably isn’t obvious to anyone but my dear husband. Every month, just before my menstrual bleed, I have a couple of ‘hermit’ days, where I hide away and read a book, or shut myself away to write, or get obsessive-compulsive about de-cluttering the cupboards and weeding the garden. My darling man is good to me then. He takes the kids on adventures to the shops or out visiting and leaves me to be at home alone. Which is all I ever want. Thank goodness he understands.
I’m not usually prone to mood swings, but now that we’re approaching the winter solstice and the cold has settled in–yes, I know it’s just a few weeks–yes, I know how lucky we are in S-E Queensland but–I still feel blue in the middle of winter. Is it possible that PMS is more severe in the cooler months? Does anyone else find this to be the case?
I have never coped well with the cold, my extremities readily go blue and I need lots of layers to fend off the chill. I had one winter pregnancy, my third, which was delightful because my own ‘central heating’ protected me from feeling the dreaded cold. But when my July bub was born, we had quite a few overnight frosts in a row and I recall fretting over keeping our littlest person warm at night. Luckily, I didn’t have to lose much sleep over it because I didn’t have to reach far to check his covers. He was the first bub in our family to officially sleep in our bed from day one. It was an arrangement that worked for over two years. Bub number four, who got the benefit of our experience with the previous three, still visits us in the night sometimes. Sometimes we love it. Sometime we definitely don’t. But I digress.
Some say that SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) is a left-over from evolution, and since many animals still hibernate in the winter, who do we think we are to not have to do likewise? It seems a reasonable enough explanation to me. Here in the sub-tropics, it’s not a condition we regularly hear about but when we lived in the US it was commonly discussed, and there’s a whole pharmacy of drugs and supplements to help the less-evolved deal with winter blues.
Maybe it isn’t there to be fixed. Maybe it’s there to be worked with, obeyed. Just like my tendency to withdraw before my moontime. Maybe we’re meant to hibernate some of the winter away; sleep more, eat more, conserve our emotional and physical energy for when the weather warms up and we have more to share.
June 14th, 2010 - Posted in gratitude, partnership, ritual, wisdom, health, self-care | | 3 Comments
On Gratitude
picture by Dean Ayers
What am I complaining about creative U-turns for? I live a most privileged life, with a robustly healthy family, a loving, attentive husband and a luxurious home. We recently had a holiday in Japan. Who am I kidding when I whinge about how hard my life is?
I used to keep a gratitude journal. I don’t know why I no longer do. This blog was intended to be an extension of that gratitude journal but somewhere along the way I seem to have lost the gratitude mindset I keep preaching about. And I have so much to be thankful for.
For instance, I go to uni, and take music lessons, just because I can. I don’t have to worry about things like child care because I don’t have to leave the home to generate an income for my family. I have a wide network of friends with varied interests, from co-operative buying, to music, writing and parenting. We have an abundance of food in the pantry, and a garden with the potential to feed us very well–if we could only get it more co-ordinated. We have good neighbours, and a nice community school for the kids. We have family who live locally, in fact we live with extended family and it is working out really well. Abundance has well and truly found us and seems to like us so much it’s gonna stick around.
In fact, life really is quite perfect. I have no personal dramas, no petty distractions, nothing to complain about. I’m not being facetious and I’m not being a brag. I just think it’s important to acknowledge the good things, no matter how small, and keep the complaints in check. I promise, there’ll be a lot more gratitude in my posts from now on.
Be content with what you have;
rejoice in the way things are.
When you realize there is nothing lacking,
the whole world belongs to you.
~Lao Tzu
May 15th, 2010 - Posted in gratitude, happiness, consumerism, health | | 4 Comments
