Ambulance Please.

 It had been an ordinary day; Jake had been off school due to a vomiting episode the previous night. I’d spent most of the day scrubbing the upstairs carpet and checking on the patient who was quite happy watching DVD’s on the couch. He hadn’t vomited since but he had a slight fever according to my dodgy Toy story thermometer which only records in Fahrenheit. The small child had been collected from kinder, the dinner was prepared and it was only five o clock. I was pretty proud of myself. Then it happened, the most terrifying four minutes of my life.

I watched helplessly as Jake shook uncontrollably on the couch.  He looked like he was choking as he gasped for air and he was turning a shade of blue. I couldn’t understand why this was happening and I seriously thought I was going to lose this child who I love more than life itself.  I was now shaking with fear as I dragged him over to the phone to call for help.

The paramedics believe my son had a febrile convulsion, which is a common occurrence in children from the age of six months to six years of age.  This can occur after a sudden spike in body temperature and in my son’s case his had reached 40C. In hindsight being covered with a duvet with the heating on full blast probably didn’t help!

 On reaching the hospital I was given a ‘what to do in the event of…’ fact sheet and I had failed miserably!  If this should happen to you here is what (in bold) you should do.

1          Don’t panic

Yeah right! I freaked out; when something happens out of the blue you naturally assume the worst! My child was dying, his father would never see him again and all I could think of was the UK emergency services telephone number! Followed by the American emergency services number.

2          Do not force or put anything into the child’s mouth, including your fingers.

Big fail! It looked like my son was going to choke on his own tongue so in went my fingers. I am now currently typing with one less finger due to nerve damage sustained when he chomped down on said fingers at the end of his seizure! In that moment when I thought he was choking I would have gladly lost my hand.

3          Ensure your child is safe by placing them on the floor and removing any object they could hit against.

Umm didn’t have time to put the ironing board away in my frenzied state while my left hand was stuck in my child’s mouth.

      4       Note the time the fit started and stopped, to tell the doctor.

Funnily enough I didn’t think to look at the time and four or five minutes can seem like a lifetime.

5         Once the fit has stopped place your child on their side and make

them comfortable.        

Okay I got this bit right!

     6        Do not shake or slap your child to wake them up

You will be relieved to hear that I got this bit right too! Once the seizure had finished, Jake didn’t seem to recognize me, would not respond to my voice and had the vacant stare of somebody who was not entirely at home. 

About thirty minutes later he came to, the relief was palpable and now I could just worry about whether we were covered for the ambulance ride to hospital!

Luckily we were but should there be a next time I feel that I will be more confident to handle the situation by myself.

The experience was more traumatic for me than for him and I am happy to report that within two days he was back to his normal self.  The pediatrician isn’t convinced Jake had a febrile convulsion so the next step for him will be an EEG so in our case only time will tell.

Statistically about one in twenty children will have a febrile convulsion at some point in their young lives. Be mindful when your child has a fever, keep them cool and maybe don’t crank the heating up!

One term down, three more to go.

  Last night, we found the Peg in an upright position with his head on his bed fast asleep!  All of the children in his class are exhausted and so are the mums!

It is not only the children who have been navigating new territory and new relationships, in fact most of them haven’t had to parallel park in front of the whole school so really the kids have had it relatively easy!

There are school lunches to make, homework to oversee, bags to remember, notices to answer and spare change to be found for various school activities. Gone are lazy mornings with long showers and the chance to eat breakfast. School is a whole new ball game and another steep learning curve in both the parent and child’s life.

Prep mums are easy to spot on any given school day. Just dropping the kids off isn’t an option for us so every morning and afternoon we gather at the playground. Parking spots are discussed, stories are verified and general chitchat ensues. It is a lovely little community of parents who are all experiencing the same new issues and concerns. Then the music starts- there is a mad panic as children jump off climbing frames and run towards their classrooms. Parents scoop up their smaller charges scared that they’ll be trampled to death in the stampede!

We follow behind weighed down with ten-kilo rucksacks and extra children. The Peg will be waiting for me, unaware that really he should be carrying his own bag.  Rucksacks need to be unpacked and stored away prior to the start of class and ideally by the child themselves. Again Prep mums to the rescue to make this a speedy process although we are getting better at encouraging some independence.

They’re only five we tell ourselves on the way out as we exchange osteopath numbers and make pacts that we won’t enter the classroom next term.

Then we have our two- mile hike back to the car and more chatter with our new acquaintances. Unless one of us has inadvertently offered their services to the Parent, Friends Association!

Another thing us Prep mums are good at is volunteering. Not content with having other children to contend with or jobs, surely we have enough time to organise activities within school- time. It’s good for your child to know that you are interested in their education and there will come a day when they don’t want to see you at school!

 So box well and truly ticked-I’m on the committee.  The funny thing is I didn’t really know I was on the ‘committee’ until I received the newsletter. I just responded to an email saying that I was happy to help out occasionally, my rationale being that I would probably be at some of the events.

Meetings are tricky though, at the last one we could smell burning and it turned out Bruiser had put the oven on in the staff room!  I have good intentions; I just hope I can help out without my toddler inflicting any permanent damage to the school!

I’m also doing an exercise-based program once a term with the preps. Exercise you shudder- oh how you’ve changed but not really as after my first session my backside was killing me. Who knew you could pull a muscle in your bum!

Again this was kind of a mistake in replying to a class notice that I should have just ignored. A happy mistake though as I get to see the Peg in school mode and help with a program that just wouldn’t be possible without parental help.

Then there was a week of swimming this term where parents could go and help their children get dressed. I wasn’t going to put my hand up for this job until I heard about my child streaking around the pool! He needed the toilet but he’d already removed his trunks so he just did a nudey run to the loo.  His inability to use a towel and attempts at putting his clothes directly on to wet skin were also a strong motivator.  That’s the other thing about Prep mums- we talk to each other and look out for each other’s children.

Term one finishes tomorrow and every prep mum I speak to is overjoyed at the prospect. Maybe our eagerness to embrace school holidays will change over time but we’re all new to this school life and we all need a little break.  We’re having a little picnic over the holidays so we can all re-connect, the kids might enjoy it too!

The Right Decision.

Jake (the Peg) has started school. There was no crying from myself or him (I can’t vouch for his teacher), no party of Corey Worthington proportions and no excessive leg clinging.  The principal remarked how confident he seemed after he robustly wished us goodbye three times in a ‘why haven’t you left yet?” manner. Okay we might have taken a little longer getting out the door but there were bags and lunch boxes to be put away. The bruiser (Alfie) cried but that was because it all looked like so much fun and he realised that now it would only be the two of us all day long. Where’s the fun in that? I can’t wee on the garden or make him laugh quite as much as his brother does but I don’t constantly get in his face every two minutes so there are some positives.

We missed the Peg’s helpful ways and felt guilty eating ice cream without him but those first couple of weeks of ‘half’ days at school went ridiculously fast.  The bruiser didn’t get to have his nap most days and when he did he’d be rudely awaken by his frantic mother who didn’t want to show up at school late.

Initially there wasn’t much chat about school on the way home and when asked what he enjoyed the most the answer was always lunch! They do say not to push for too much information and that eventually they will tell you about their day. Sure enough we are now treated to songs in French, tales of who pushed who in the playground and various games that we’re expected to know the rules to which of course we don’t! Books are excitedly taken out of the school bag before we are barely through the door and often read in the entrance hallway.

Then last week the Peg was given an achievement award at his school assembly for making a terrific start to the school year. I thought he would be one of many but there were only five awards that day. Proud? Just a little bit.

All of this from the boy we nearly didn’t send to school this year because his kinder repeatedly advised us that he wasn’t ready. The Kinder were concerned about his poor concentration and his inability to sit still. He was unable to hold a pencil correctly and should have been able to draw beyond a scribble.

He was assessed by an early childhood worker who seemed to think he would benefit from being sent to a ‘special’ school in Frankston! She found it hard to believe that I hadn’t noticed he was different from other boys his age. All of his friends were demonstrating the same behaviour- concentrating and sitting still doesn’t come naturally to active four year olds.

The report from kinder practically suggested that the Peg had extreme developmental issues.  As a parent I knew that a gross exaggeration of his abilities had been made and that if anything he was just a little bit immature for his age. At this point his kinder seemed to think he would repeat kinder the following year and I feel they turned their attention to the children who in their opinion were ready for school. 

For half of last year we consulted occupational therapists, neurological chiropractors and took part in a school readiness program. The latter was excellent and showed me that he was indeed ready to attend school. He loved his school orientations and started to complain about going to kinder. It turns out he was bored and not developmentally challenged. When I advised the kinder of my final decision to send the Peg to school they still thought I was making the wrong decision. His teacher assured me that she had tried to be positive in her transition statement but I could tell she thought I had made the wrong decision.

I am lucky to live in a country that allows parents to hold their children back a year from school if they feel they are not ready. The Peg didn’t attend a sessional kinder where I could have helped out and seen how he coped with instructions and authority.  I was reliant on the information from those childhood professionals but thankfully I trusted my instincts when it came to making such a huge decision.

That award was an affirmation that those instincts were right. Think I might just have to send that kinder an email just in case they’re still concerned!

.

You better be home soon.

Are we going on the aeroplane today?” I have been asked this question every day for the last six months! It is generally followed with “Will there be DVD’s and ABC?” Yes twenty -three hours of being allowed to watch a small screen in the back of somebody’s seat is such an exciting prospect to a four year old. Add to that an entire carry on of food and you’ve got a kids’ idea of paradise!

Not such an idyllic proposition for myself who will be undertaking this flight alone with two children under the age of five. Circumstance has dictated or rather my husband’s employer has dictated that he can’t come with us so for the second time in nine months we are flying without “Daddy”. Some events you just can’t miss and my brothers’ wedding is one of those so even if we had ten children i would be taking this trip!

 Few people would choose to do this flight but I have no option because I chose prior to having children to live on the other side of the world.  Not on a whim, no person who chooses to live so far away from everyone and everything they have ever known makes this decision lightly.

Whilst I don’t regret my decision, I have to live with the daily knowledge that I am missing out on precious time with my aging parents and major events in my family and friends’ lives. Then there is the guilt that has grown tenfold since having the boys.

Children need their grandparents and they need grandparents who want to spend time with them. Not all do but my parents dote on all of their grandsons.  I know that my boys miss out in this respect and it makes me sad. Their relationship will obviously be very different from that of their cousins not that they are loved any less.

There are the weekly Skype chats, which make it a little bit easier between visits, but children change every day.  We are so lucky to have such technological advancements in our lives which don’t only enable us to see each other on a weekly basis but talk for two hours for free!

In the interim there is Facebook where I can see what is going on in peoples’ lives, read the subtext and in some instances picture myself there.  I am not the greatest at keeping in touch but thanks to its’ existence I can leave a quick message or comment on a photo. It didn’t quite suffice when my new nephew was born and I longed to be in that hospital too giving him a big cuddle.  The moments that can never be repeated are the moments i miss the most.

Luckily I have supportive parents, who might not be thrilled that I live so far away but they recognise that it is my decision and my life. Whatever I chose to do my parents were always behind me one hundred percent- from becoming a vegetarian to drama school to living in sin with a scruffy Aussie (reader I married him!)

The time we do spend together is very special and the boys get to see their family on the other side of the world for weeks at a time.  Memories are made and stored for future stories once home in Australia.

Saying goodbye never gets easier and I will wonder again why I choose to do this to myself and the people I love.  Then the scruffy Aussie will meet me at the airport and I will remember!

 Since becoming a parent myself I understand how my decision has left a hole in my parents’ world. My boys are only little but I could not fathom losing them to the other side of the world. One day they will be balding middle aged men but regardless of age they will always be my babies.

People will stare at me when I board that flight but they don’t know my history or my reasons for choosing to subject two small boys to high levels of radiation.

All they will see is a very excited little boy with a flustered woman carrying  a grumpy baby and too much hand luggage. I apologise now if we happen to be sitting next to you.   

You should hear about some of the other jobs i've done.

Last week my kids were sick, the oldest one had a nasty virus resulting in a vomiting episode in bed.  As luck would have it he’d slipped in to bed with us so that was convenient! The littlest munchkin had an ear infection following a hideous cold .You couldn’t put him down for two minutes otherwise he would head butt the floor! Yes it was a fun week in our household and it added the additional role of nurse to an ever increasing job description that includes chef, cleaner and upholder of the peace!

I have had a variety of jobs thus far and some of them have been quite memorable.  Like most teenagers I had a couple of babysitting jobs when I was younger, babysitting the children of people who lived on my parents’ caravan park. My first job involved sitting for three children who all had issues with wetting the bed, not a problem I hear you say apart from their parents made them wear black bin liners to bed! I’m not on the shortlist for parent of the year but I can safely say this was wrong on so many levels! It was also very hard to listen to my Sony Walkman with all that rustling going on!

Undeterred by stupid parents, I babysat for a new family a couple of years later. This family comprised of two toddlers and a pair of alcoholic parents. They were partial to the pub so I was watching my Jason Donovan* videos and doing my homework in their caravan between four and five times a week.

The dad worked down the sewers so had no sense of smell; this was evident in the caravan that was a bit on the whiffy side! The little boy who was four liked to jump out of the caravan window so I would have to chase him around the site on a regular basis. Once in the caravan he would throw his dad’s vinyl collection at my head and swear at me! The money was too good so I kept looking after the kids and then one night I caught them both naked attempting to copulate! Yes you read that right; the little boy was on top of his sister thrusting as if there was no tomorrow. Luckily there was no erection but it was a disturbing sight and one that needed further investigation.

I had to break this news to their parents who then got the police involved so I had to have countless interviews with the local constabulary.

The police were concerned that the little boy had witnessed an older child performing the same act on another child. Oh yes there were some lovely families on the caravan park! My theory is that he’d actually seen his parents having drunk sex as they all slept in the main room of the caravan together!

Still I babysat the kids until the little boy urinated on the carpet one night. Again I sat down with the parents to explain the little boy’s actions, to which the mum then fiercely accused me of pissing on the carpet! That signalled the end of my babysitting career.

On the weekends I also worked at the local supermarket as a shelf stacker. During my most memorable shift, I was re-stocking the soft drinks aisle when I accidently sliced through a three-litre bottle of coke. I will never forget the horrified expression of the lady in the shiny bright pink shell suit who just happened to be approaching me at that exact moment! She stood there whilst a torrent of coke sprayed her from head to foot, I was like the little boy with his finger in the dam but it did no good! I would of laughed heartily if I hadn’t been the cause of this sugary shower.

 The supermarket had to pay for her shell suit to be dry-cleaned but they didn’t sack me. The following week they put me on toilet rolls!

Then came my hospitality years where I worked with many Australians in a famous London venue. There was a lot of down time between customers so much time was spent consuming everything the bar had to offer.  Generally by interval I was half cut and it wasn’t unusual to open the wrong bottle of champagne on purpose. Many nights we went to the local pub with a bag full of Grolsch, some of which rolled out of my bag one night as I exited stage door. They were fun times but I was naughty and will not be telling my children these stories!

I don’t want to incriminate myself further but needless to say during this time we always had a bottle of Lanson Black label in the fridge!

The last truly awful job I had was once I left university and it involved working twelve-hour shifts at Heathrow airport.  I lived with five of my good friends from Uni and four of us answered an ad for promotional work. It paid well and you worked three days on and three days off.  We had to wear a Hawaiian shirt, a grass skirt and lei to hand out leaflets to departing passengers.

The outfit had absolutely nothing to do with the information on the leaflets and the lei was accidently left at home after day one!

This job was mind numbingly boring and we had to be cheerful from seven in the morning to seven at night! The first couple of days were awful and we spent most of our time meeting up between terminals three and four. We didn’t have to clock in with anybody and we soon figured this out! Our shifts started later and were finishing increasingly earlier and then those in charge figured it out!

Then we had to sign in on the hour, every hour and it was truly painful.

The writing was on the wall after that and one by one we left.

Then came the sitting down on my backside jobs- telemarketing, market research and call centres. I hated trying to sell people pure crap and calling people at unsociable hours to ask whether they suffered from migraines, colds or incontinence!  I got sacked from two telesales jobs because of poor sales ( read no sales) but I was a good market researcher especially in Australia where people seemed to like my accent or had a relative in London that I might know.

I also worked for Medibank Private for a short time in their call centre but it was very depressing. I remember speaking to one elderly lady who had been on hold for forty minutes. She had fallen down her stairs but didn’t want to call an ambulance in case she wasn’t insured. That job broke my heart a little bit but on the plus side left me very knowledgeable about health insurance.

 All of those jobs taught me so much about myself, people in general and how a good sense of humour can get you through the day.  One particular job also taught me the importance of checking on quiet children, as you never know what they might be getting up to!

Naughty Forty...I'll keep you posted.

I turned forty a couple of months ago and it wasn’t so bad. Thirty was much worse and I wasted far too much of my late twenties dreading the oncoming birthday milestone. At thirty I was unsure of who I was, where I was going and what was important in my life. I was wishing I was twenty-five again but not realising what that really meant.

 At forty I looked around and realised that to wish away even one year would delete people, experiences and relationships that I cherish.

The dirty thirties were good to me as a decade with marriage, stability and two beautiful little boys who make my life deeply satisfying every day. I’m not saying my life thus far has panned out as I imagined but it's pretty good.  I have my boys including the adult one, my health, good friends and a supportive loving family.

I haven’t been nominated for a BAFTA or shared the stage with Judy Dench* but I’m okay with that. You move on. You grow up and you become thankful of what you have achieved.

I’ve spent years lying about my age and it is common in the acting business where age defines you.  I’ve always looked younger so I blatantly lied on my CV for acting roles and my age was never questioned.  I then moved to Australia and thought I could do the same not realising that you have to give your employer a tax declaration form before a job starts. In the UK you do your own tax and those producers who can’t see beyond the number written on your CV are no more the wiser.

Luckily I never got a paid job through my useless agent so an embarrassing situation was avoided!

 How ironic that we spend years pretending that we are older to get in to dodgy establishments. Spending hours memorising false dates of birth and star signs fearing a lack of preparation would reveal our not quite so legal selves.

I was asked for ID until I was twenty- three and generally I was flattered but on some occasions I was incredulous at the person’s obvious stupidity or concerned about their optical health!

People thinking you look younger is flattering and a boost to the ego. I myself don’t like to guess peoples’ age, as I am generally wrong. There is nothing worse than somebody estimating you are older than you are. Let’s face it we all have our good days and we all have those days where we look every sleep deprived minute of our actual age.

Age is really a number; it just happens that my number is increasing at an alarming speed. It really does seem two minutes since I was graduating from University, inhaling five pints of lager in London town and doing twelve-hour shifts at Heathrow airport dressed in a Hawaiian skirt!

So I am embracing the fabulous forties. Many amazing people don’t get to celebrate this milestone because they leave this world far too soon. I am one of the lucky ones so middle age come on down! I’d say do your worse but I’m far too vain so please be sparing with the wrinkles for a few more years.

* I did meet her once and she wasn’t very nice to me but I don’t think this counts.  Even though you snapped at me I still love you Judy!

There's a mouse in the house..well actually quite a few!

We’ve got mice! Not the patter of tiny feet that you want to announce on Facebook but many peoples status’s seem to suggest we’re not the only ones.

Bunnings sold out of their lethal wooden traps last weekend and there was a week wait for the exterminators.

There seems to have been a population explosion in the mouse world, mice copulating like mad in order to get the baby bonus. Don’t they know you don’t get it all in one payment now- chances are they’ll be dead before they get to spend it!

They’ve chosen a good house with two small boys throwing enough food on the floor to feed an entire African village! The first mouse probably bragged so much about the easy life he was having that all his friends decided to move in too! Especially on a Kinder day when i rush out of the door without scooping the food off the floor, i'm sure the mice have been loving the all you can eat buffet!

So we’ve got smart mice, so smart that they haven’t fallen prey to the many lethal traps adorning our pantry shelves. They do like to have a little poo right next to them though just to let us know they haven’t been fooled! I’m sure they’re high fiving each other on a nightly basis on that manoeuvre!

After we spotted the first mouse we believed that maybe he had just come in through an open door. I popped down to Bunnings and being the committed Vegetarian* that I am purchased a trap which would capture rather than decapitate. It is so spacious that you could convert it in to a granny flat with plenty of room for a conservatory and even a pool! You place the food inside and they are supposed to run in with no escape route. Needless to say this trap was useless and is still open for inspection!

No more Mrs Nice humanitarian minded for me, snap their little neck traps now adorn our house! Last week the husband was staking out a mouse, he was wearing rubber gloves and armed with a broom. When the mouse jumped in to the laundry trough I shouted “ Turn the taps on- scald him alive”. I really have been watching too many episodes of the Tudors!

The mouse escaped but I did give it a whack with a rolled up newspaper before it ran in to the spare room. We barricaded it in with a rolled up towel and the weekend papers. We really are the most hospitable of hosts!

Apparently, mice are a little bit obsessive compulsive and follow the same route on a nightly basis. Once you know their travel plans you can set the traps accordingly. They are also wary creatures so they have to get used to where the traps are located first and then they get cocky enough to try the bait. You would think mice relatives would warn them! “ Son you don’t get nothing for free in this life. If it looks too good to be true it probably is!”

What do you tell your kids though? Their perception of mice is a little bit different to ours, they think Rasta Mouse or Micky while we think vermin. We tell them we are catching the mice to put them outside but neglect to tell them that the mice will be dead! 

I wish we could live in harmony but I’m sorry mice you are disease carrying little f***ers! You give me no option but to end your winter holiday prematurely with a severe bout of food poisoning. The exterminators are coming today, pack your cases and get out of my house.

* Not that I would eat mice or think that any of you do.