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
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
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
Self-reliance
picture by DoubleM2
Hubby is away. Has been away for over a week and we have another few days to go. We’ve been doing this merry-go-round for ten years now and even though it is getting easier as the kids grow up, and as the communication technology gets better, the period of separation still has its inevitable pitfalls.
Actually, this would be one of the first times we haven’t had some minor disaster or technological breakdown of one sort or another. We’re just coming out the other side of a tummy bug that I have so far managed to evade. In one 24 hour period, three kids went down with it. I was expecting it because Master Almost-Seven had it last Friday. I had thought we’d got off lightly.
But I’m not here to talk about the negatives - much as I’d like to indulge myself a good long whinge about life and it’s spewy wash piles.
No, I’d rather point out that there’s an up side to every down. This work-related travel, disruptive though it is, augments my personal growth. When hubby is home I can be lazy because he’s always been good at helping out around the house. But when he’s away, everything falls to me. Well, not everything. I let the mail collect at the front door, and I don’t bother to mow the yard. But I keep up with the essentials and all the commitments, and I like it. To be honest, I feel a great sense of self-reliance during hubby’s away-time.
I shop and stockpile so we can be as self-sufficient as possible. We drop a few extra-curricular activities so the schedule isn’t too full and plan as little as possible for the weekends. When I cook, it’s a double batch, so we have a meal for the freezer, we eat simply but still allow ourselves the odd take away meal.
And despite the spew-a-thon, I’m caught up on the laundry, I got the bins out last night (this week I snuck out two recycle bins, which I’ve never done before but since we missed last time, it seemed justifiable) and I haven’t let the disorder get too out of hand.
I realise that I don’t need a full social life or a lot of outside input to keep things ticking smoothly. I can do this, all by myself. So this alone time (with the kids) is something to be grateful for, too. Doesn’t mean I won’t be happy to see dear husband walk through the door on Friday.
June 9th, 2010 - Posted in personal growth, gratitude, happiness, partnership, parenthood, self-care | | 2 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
