Make it go away Mummy

This past week has been surreal, in fact if I think about it this past year has. Something changed though last Wednesday when my son was diagnosed with pneumonia. I can’t yet put my finger on it but I suppose this post is a way to help me do that.

I feel a bit broken to be totally honest, just watching this little human that just happens to be the centre of my universe, cry out in agony while I know there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it or fix it, is soul destroying. And watching his eyes, that have seen only two years of this world, staring at me, questioning why they are in pain. It is the closest thing to hell on earth.

I can’t imagine what parents who have kids that are seriously ill have to go through, if this is what it feels like when your child has something that modern medicine can fix. I think it’s the helplessness that's the killer. I want to run out and study medicine, but I know that wouldn’t solve everything and would probably reveal how little we actually do know. Basically I need to be Samantha Stevens, when the pain hits I just wiggle my nose.

Witches aside for a moment, this got me thinking about resilience. Our children are going to face pain, and lots of it, and most of the time all we will be able to do is sit by and provide comfort and support. So how does one prepare to be useless in the face of your children’s biggest crises? How do you stop shutting down inside to cope with our own pain at having to watch our angels get attacked and have to fight for themselves?

Unfortunately I have no idea, lately if I don’t run around keeping busy, staying numb, I basically want to scream, “Why does he keep getting sick? Is it my fault? What can I do differently? Surely there is something that can be done?” Our doctors have answered these questions for me and they go something like “He’s in the normal spectrum of illness frequency for his age, it is not your fault, if he didn’t get these infections now he would get them at school, no his diet is good, he’s active and you are using probiotics and supplements and washing his hands, no there’s nothing more than antibiotics if it’s bacterial, immunisation against some real nasties but mostly it’s viral and he will just get over it in 7-10 days, summer is better”. This doesn’t stop my incredulous reaction when after maximum of two weeks good health another feral virus mows my boy down. It also doesn’t stop me blaming myself for pretty much the whole sorry situation.

All I know is I am tired and sad and feeling incredibly sorry for him and myself. I want to take the pain away, I want to wrap him in my arms and shield him from this torturous world. He, of course, is managing having one of the most serious respiratory conditions around like a champion, and other than needing a little more sleep and cuddles, is being his normal cheeky and charming little self.

If only I could be so brave and strong…but maybe screaming when you feel helpless is the best reaction. Aurora, Emma’s mother in Terms of Endearment is her and my hero, and she’s screaming, as is perfectly appropriate when you are watching someone you love more than life itself work through pain.

So if you don’t see me here as often, it’s cause I’m off somewhere helplessly screaming loudly or more often, quietly on the inside.

How do you handle it (or not) when your child is in pain?

©MyIdeaLife, 2011, All rights reserved.

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the sense of change

Words can't really express...

I’d be lying if I said today felt like the first day of Spring, in truth the feeling started in Sydney about a week ago. That incessant chill in the air seemed to leave overnight like an unwanted spirit that had been making the hairs on our neck stand on end for months. 

But it’s more than just the warmth, it’s the smells and something more that’s hard to describe. Like a glitch in the Matrix, barely perceivable but nonetheless definitive in its altered state. This unexplainable feeling of change always makes me nostalgic. 

This time it brought back a wash of memories that seem always to be punctuated by a child’s laughter. At first I thought it was my boys as their giggles are ever-present, but it is a girl’s voice I hear and so I can only assume it is mine. Somewhere on the surface of my brain my own delights must be etched and as the seasons change it is triggered again as if it were only yesterday.

Like the birthday party where Mum made me a Maypole cake and made miniature dresses for the 2” dolls that held the ribbons. Doing backflips into the pool with all the kids in the neighbourhood over. Eating watermelon in the backyard so you could make as much mess as you like. Walking on the shore with Dad and collecting mussels. Climbing trees with my brother, who was always so much higher than me. Or the party where I had my first kiss. Dreamy. 

So the seasons change again and now I watch two new humans giggle and run and explode into the air outside because it’s warm and thick and full of fun they are yet to have. Fun I hope that will carve out memories in their minds. For when the seasons change again and it’s their turn to look back, I hope they do it with a smile.

Do the seasons changing shift your equilibrium?

©My IdeaLife, 2011, All rights reserved

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Over the Moon or just on another planet?

When contemplating why a certain unnamed website would choose me over other potential candidates to write a guest post, I did what most women do and then instantly regret, I asked my husband. The exchange went something like:

Me: “It’s hard to describe isn’t it?”
Hubby (smirking): “Well not really…your point of difference is you walk around with a rocket up you’re butt”
Me: “You wish! I should have asked our 8mth old, his babble would’ve been more insightful.”

Welcome to my sophisticated life.
The irony of my husband’s tragic attempt at being funny and/or an r-rated porn star is that it got me thinking…no not about rear-ends but rockets. You see when I was a ‘child’ (really only six years ago) I wanted to be an astronaut. It wasn’t just the idea of flying through space, it was more the amazing feat of it; astronauts were simply superhuman. But what made my heart really long for NASA of Apollo 13 was the greatness humans can achieve when they work together towards a common goal. 

One superhuman feat surveys the moon.

 As an art director at the time, although I did achieve the advertising equivalent of spaceflight, there was no teamwork. So much so when the creative director got bored with doing nothing everyday while high, my beloved Cannes Lion^ also disappeared. Like most people’s reality, my working life was defined by people working against each other, while the one with the longest and hardest working tongue got what he wanted. So I was busy doing tongue stretches when…

I became a mother.
Look at it, such an innocuous little statement, short and simple. The truth is every time the phrase ‘became a mother’ is uttered there should be a universal sound effect like “dun dun doooouuunnnnn”, because it turns worlds upside-down, brains inside-out and bodies, well let’s just say zero-gravity would be useful. Basically being a mum requires years of superhuman feats and transforms your existence such that you may as well be blasted through space to another planet. Ok so I know that astronauts face G-forces that make it feel like a cow is sitting on their chest for 15mins, but try settling a screaming toddler for 4 hours straight on 3 hours sleep per night? I think even the wimpiest of men would prefer the cow.

The truth was I no longer needed to see the earth through a spaceship’s side window; I could see it in my son’s blue eyes. (SFX: a collective “oooaaawww”, no seriously if you saw those eyes you’d understand)

I used to NEED my career, I used to long for great heights of achievement within it and worst of all I used to think climbing the corporate ladder would make me whole. I was wrong, why, because now I’m an ambitionless, tracksuit wearing, naval gazer and happier than an ex-battery hen let loose on a free-range farm time has given me perspective.

Corporate tunnel-vision is gone and a big wide bottom life has replaced it, albeit with a long, strong tongue now only useful at parties. I’m not going to pretend I’ve had a brain transplant, and am now happy rolling in tulips with my boys and oh yes, playing with my kids too. I am still ambitious, I've just realised there’s more than one way to skin a cat*. I've also worked out that whatever I end up doing, that doing isn't the sum total of me-ness, there are other things that define me like skinning cats the weird stuff I say on twitter at 3am, (or given this post, on this blog during daylight hours *scary*).

Anyway at the moment life with my three boys; 8mths, 2 and 35yrs; and my blog beats hurtling through the atmosphere, driving a gold corvette and having a twitter handle like Astro_girl. For one thing being a Mum is unlikely to endanger my life which is a plus, (although my two year old recently practiced his new found skill for head butting on my cheekbone), and secondly I’d probably feel a little out of place in Houston with no PhD. (PhD’s in ‘how to avoid sitting in a poo bath with a toddler**’ don’t count)

At last I am over the moon.

P.S. The title of this post is a rhetorical question, although it's ok if you do answer it as I love all comments
^The advertising equivalent of an Oscar.
* Before you call the RSPCA I don’t really know many ways to skin a cat, in fact I don’t even know one way to skin a cat – this is probably my biggest issue. If I could skin a cat I may have found perspective when I was only a quarter of the way through my life but instead I am half way and all the cats I know still have their skin. The one that hacks up indescribable gunge on our side path has been asking for a skinning for months now so better get to it and I’ll at last be on my way to a happier life).
** This actually happened and I have yet to write a paper on avoidance strategies but I know it would contribute to the body of knowledge, just not the body anybody knows. 

© My IdeaLife, 2011. All rights reserved.

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