Archives: The curse of the working parent

This is one of series of columns I wrote for IOL Lifestyle, back in September 2011. That Grade 2 son is now in Grade 5, but the issue remains the same. The original is here.

My Grade 2 son is sick today.

Nothing serious, just a streaming cold and a very,very, very, very,
very, very sore throat (his words) that mean he can’t go to school
today. He was home yesterday too.

For him, it means he gets to hang around the house, playing XBox games
and entering competitons on a kiddies television website (we are
shortly going to have both a Nintendo DS and an iPod delivered to the
door because he has entered 13 times – “13 times, Mommy!!!”).

For his parents, however, this has meant much tense negotation and
juggling of the spaces where the self-employed and the corporate
worlds do and no not have some give in them.

We’ve made a plan, but creeping dread is upon me: my work schedule
tomorrow has no give in it at all, and what if he is still too damp to
go to school? At this point, we have no idea what we will do about
that. Probably I will push down the guilt and worry and agree with my
husband that we should send him to school anyway. And try to silence
that voice in my head that demands to know what I would do if I was a
stay-at-home mom.

Which leads me to think about a column we carried on the Lifestyle
site this last weekend, by the Daily Mail’s Sandra Parsons, who is
amazed that women complain about the problems of having it all. She
reckons we should all just keep our mouths shut and get on with it.

“…Let’s not kid ourselves that women’s lives really are worse now
than they were in the Seventies. It’s simply not true,” she writes.

“We’re no longer dependent on men for a roof over our heads, our
income or our identity. We’re well-educated – and if we want a career
there’s nothing to stop us.

“Equally, if we don’t want a career but would rather be homemakers and
full-time mothers, there’s no reason not to do that, either.”

Of course, she doesn’t mention all the women in the developing world
for whom the choices she takes for granted are but a distant dream.

But for those of us who to have those choices, my question is what
price(s) are we paying? What prices are all the people who support us
paying?

I get particularly irritated with women’s magazines who interview
high-flying women with children who always pay tribute to their
support network – and the ins and outs of that support network and who
does what when are never interrogated. Is there a domestic worker
taking a taxi home at night because Mommy had to work late? Is there a
yawning granny in front of the television because of that date night
that is required to keep a marriage alive? Is there a child being sent
to school sick because the support network ran out?

We are never served well by lying to each other about our parenting
issues – so use the comment form below to tell us how childcare and
work really play out for you… and I mean this: tell the truth!

Archives: Bees, birds and ballet

This was one of a short series of columns I published on the IOL Lifestyle site – the original, published on September 6, is here:


I went to the ballet last night.

Well, sort of. It was my niece’s school ballet concert and it was enchanting.

It was called Down The Country Lane and featured girls (it is a
girls-only school, after all) from Grades R to 7 dancing as birds,
sunbeams, mice, wooland fairies and bees, among others.

My niece Gemma, aged six, was one of the bees, in a black-and-yellow
striped costume and a proper bun and pink ballet stockings. She had
wanted to be a sunbeam, as their costumes were so pretty but it was
not to be.

The really little girls all have a designated older girl to dance with
them in case they forget what they are supposed to be doing – but,
between you and me, some of them still forgot.

Were they in time with each other? No.

Were they all going in the same direction? No.

Were they all properly spaced? No.

Were they all graceful? No

But they were all trying really hard and they were lovely.

Gemma fell over in last year’s concert (thereby pre-disastering
herself) and was a very fluttery if slightly anxious bee. Mom, Dad,
Gran and Aunt beamed all the way through her three minutes of fame.

I came to parenthood late and by the skin of my teeth, and every
school concert I go to (not to mention every kiddie birthday party)
reminds me why I wanted it so much. It’s a chance to be part of what
my sister calls “the fabric of community”, a chance to share love and
fun and make memories. I am, as they say, ever grateful for this
parenting life.

Clutter: It’s a ball of string

Clutter is trending – there are whole TV shows devoted to people with regrettable hoarding tendencies. Newspapers and magazines regularly run “how to’s” on how to get yourself organised, in which a dominant theme is what to do about clutter.

Now, in my view, the pre-eminent place to go for help with clutter is the Flylady website – she has tips, she has emotional support, she has systems, she has tools.  She is the queen, and all other organisational websites are merely ladies in waiting. So, if your life or house is full of discontent and mess, please check her out.

I do know that people find her a bit overwhelming – there are a lot of emails and there’s a lot to take in and the tone is often very American and so a bit unfamiliar to us here in the wild and woolly South.

So, here is my own thought about a place to start. To untangle a ball of string, you have to find the end, and then just start gently tugging. So, as you go about your business, look at your house and car and desk and see what’s in and on them. Really, really look at all your stuff. And as you do that, hold this quote in your head: 

Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful. – William Morris

You might find, as you gaze at the hideous elephant figurine that Aunt Amira brought back from India, that it is not useful, and certainly not beautiful. And you might want to put it out with the rubbish. And that is a start.

If you love it, photograph it and let it go

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They were loved, and on they go

In the last week or so, I deluttered our upstairs bathoom. It was not too bad before – just filled with invisible sh*t (our household phrase for things that have been around so long that we no longer see them) and a significant accumulation of bath toys. At bathtime, I went through all these things with the 10-year-old and some was chucked, some was moved to where it belonged and some was photographed and ear-marked for giving away. Continue reading “If you love it, photograph it and let it go”

What we can learn from dogs

Lisa

Yesterday as I was driving my son home from swimming, I saw a woman walking two dogs. One was a Labrador-size canine, one was terrier shape. I saw them from behind and they both had their tails up, waving happy flags. My heart lifted at the sight.

And today, our own dog derived huge excitement from the mundane process of defrosting the freezer. You can watch, you can stick your nose in, you can eat bits of ice off the floor. It was clearly the best thing that had happened to him since breakfast – which is always a huge event, even though it is the same old healthy pellets every time.

So today’s lesson is – try to live in the moment, the way dogs do.