Friday, May 6, 2016

It's just a colour

The other day at school drop off I witnessed Tricky being teased. I'm sure kids have been mean to him before, but it was the first time I'd ever seen it happen.

We were hanging around the classroom door, waiting for it to open and a few girls in his grade were there too. They were all chatting and laughing, having a nice time.

Then the mood shifted when one girl, who is usually lovely, noticed Tricky's pink water bottle.

"Errrrr, you've got a PINK water bottle!!! Girls, look, Tricky has a PINK water bottle!" she squealed.

Tricks tried spinning around so the girls couldn't see his water bottle on the side of his back pack, but the three of them pounced on him and stopped him from turning. They weren't being violent, they were just mucking around.

"Let me see! It's PINK!!!" they laughed.

He made some funny faces at them and they lost interest in the water bottle, but as a groups of kids are want to do sometimes, they picked something else.

"And you don't have any freckles! That's so weird!" The girl said.

The other girls crowded around his face to have a look. Their freckled noses scrunched up with sun damage and scrutiny.

Tricks looked rather confused and asked who wanted to play chasey. They all said yes and off they went.

It was bizarre standing there, watching it unfold. I didn't want to step in, I wanted to see how he would handle it without me. I'm a fan of kids working out their own issues with guidance rather than mum stepping in every time to fight their battles, and since this was a low level teasing I felt it was a good introduction to standing up for yourself.

That he tried to make them laugh shows he's my kid. Humour is my weapon of choice. That he tried to change the subject also shows he's my kid. If my first weapon doesn't work, running away is my only other strategy. But I want him to have more.

When the doors opened we walked in and had a chat.

"What did those girls say about your water bottle?"

"They made fun of me because it was pink. Maybe I should get a new one?"

"You chose that water bottle because it's your favourite colour. Do you think someone who isn't hurting someone should change what they're doing, or do you think someone who is teasing someone should change what they're doing?"

"I think the person teasing shouldn't tease."

"Yep. And what can we say if someone says they don't like our pink water bottle?"

"It's just a colour! There's no such thing as boys and girls colours!"

"Right on, little guy! If that is your favourite colour, then it doesn't matter what other people say."

We did our usual kisses on his hands (so he can place his hands on his cheeks during the day if he feels like he needs a kiss from mum), and as I left he ran off to play with his friends.

All day I wondered if I'd done the right thing by not intervening. Should I have stepped in? Should I have said something at the time? Mentioned it to the girls' mums? They would have been mortified that their children were teasing and would have told them off. Or was holding back and arming him with words and reason the way to go?

Tricks has grown up in an environment where we try not to gender toys and accept that toys are for playing with and pretending with, no matter what colour they are or who they are aimed towards. He loves Lego, cars, plays rough and tells poo jokes. Other times he nurtures dolls and is Brozen - a bro who likes Frozen. His favourite colour is pink and he wants to be an army officer when he grows up.

He's a wonderful mixture of masculine and feminine but I realize that he could seem weird to some people who are only used to rigidly defined gender roles.

So I equip my boy with strategies to use when someone teases him and hope for the best in a schoolyard that can be cruel sometimes. It's just a colour. Although in my head I'm shouting inappropriately at a six year old "It's just a fucking colour and it's called sunscreen, bitch!".

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Heartache and help

I have this heart condition.

I've had it for years but it's been pretty good for such a long time now that I don't see anyone for it. I was discharged about 18 months ago from from my follow up program because I was doing so well. Hooray for me.

Except recently, this heart condition flared up.

I was really ill.

So I did what I was always told to do when I felt like my heart was going to give out and headed to my GP for a referral to a specialist. 

My 'emergency referral' got me an appointment a MONTH away.

I knew I wouldn't be able to last a month with my heart like this. Doing it's own thing, getting sicker by the day. I'd be dead in a week. The specialist said go to the emergency department in the meantime.

A friend took me to the ED on a Monday night and I was assessed. Yes, my heart was just about to give out, but since I had kids they didn't think it would give out any time soon. 

I didn't understand. What does having kids have to do with it? No medication was started, the nurse said it was because I might have an anaphylactic reaction to it and they didn't want to be responsible for that. Um, OK?

I was left by myself for a while, then discharged alone at midnight having been promised that a referral to Hospital in the Home (HITH) had been made, and that it was HITH that would take care of my heart with medication. 

At home my heart got sicker, but I waited, thinking HITH would come and help me soon. We got referrals to three private heart hospitals and two public, putting our eggs in as many baskets as we could. Hoping there would be space somewhere. That someone would help my poor heart.

We learned that the private heart hospital would charge us $420 per day for me to stay there, after my private health had paid. And that that wouldn't cover specialist fees or medications. You have to be rich to be sick, it would seem, even in Australia. 

MG had two weeks off work to look after me and the kids because I couldn't get out of bed let alone be an actual parent. I've been absent from school drop offs and using the last of my energy to do a few fun things with the kids, wondering all the while if today would be the day that my heart would give out totally. If today would be the day I left my kids without a mother.

MG made a stack of phone calls to the hospital and was put through to all sorts of departments. Some had no record of me, some said the referral was pending, others said it had never been sent. There were no straight answers and we could never speak to the same person twice. 

Finally, at the end of the week MG got through to the correct person by pure chance and we learned that the HITH referral had gone through and been rejected as they didn't have any room.

I'd been desperately waiting for this "virtual bed" and no one had told us it wasn't available, and they hadn't referred on to another service like they should have.

So me and my heart were just left to fend for ourselves, desperate for medication, clinging on for dear life, back to square one as if we hadn't asked for help at all. 

I took another trip to the ED the following Monday as my heart had become much, much worse. I was finally seen by the heart team who noticed that they hadn't been called to see me last time when they should have been. They were so lovely. They said they had a bed upstairs on the heart ward for me and even gave me a starting dose of medication and had no idea why the previous nurse told me I couldn't have it.

But then, as quickly as it was given, the bed upstairs was taken away. Someone else needed it. There are lots of broken hearts, all needing help.

And as quickly as the bed upstairs was taken, so was my cubicle in emergency. I was now on a stretcher in the corridor.

Hours passed. A nurse checked on me once to find my heart was in a very bad way, I told them it hurt more than I could ever remember it hurting. He called over to another nurse and a passing doctor rolled his eyes and said "ugh, of course her heart hurts" then, trying to imitate my voice said "somebody pay attention to me".

I broke down. I couldn't believe I was being mocked for asking for help. 

I was informed that they'd stopped looking for a bed for me since all the receptionists would stop work in an hour, and that they would try again tomorrow... that I could spend the night on the stretcher in the corridor and try to get some sleep.

Have you ever been on stretcher in a emergency department corridor? Sleep is not really forthcoming. There were five or six empty bays that we could see from that corner of the corridor, but I wasn't allowed one of them, they were for "sick people" who would come in through the night, not for those with sore hearts.

MG and I decided I would be better in my own bed and tried to discharge but the doctor wouldn't let us. He kept saying "you're in a bed in a hospital" whenever MG or I mentioned the words stretcher or corridor.

We asked to talk to someone higher up. A few nurses (all lovely) came by to try and convince me to stay, but we again requested to leave. Being surrounded by so much trauma was making my heart hurt even more at this stage.

Finally, a nice doctor came to us and agreed that a corridor stretcher wasn't really ideal and said that it was likely I'd be waiting on that stretcher for four to five days for a bed to become available in the heart ward, and it might be better if I went home to wait it out.

I signed the forms and was discharged.

At home over the coming days we chased more referrals. The hospital had actually sent the referral this time (hooray), but to the wrong centre (groan), so MG, acting as both nurse and personal assistant, kept calling as many places as he could. 

Most said call again later, or that they'd get back to us. Two weeks later we've only heard from one of those places (to say no), the rest still haven't returned our calls.

Finally, we decided that it was worth a shot showing up at the local community heart clinic, without a referral, to beg for help.

I almost wept with relief when they said they would fit me in.

An amazing nurse (are you sensing a theme here? nurses are awesome) took me through and my heart was examined. It was really, really sick, but I had gotten there just in time. He recommended a course of treatment, got it written up by the doctor, and let me know which additional services he was referring me to... and then actually referred me to them. 

He said that my case is far from uncommon and recommended I never go to that particular emergency room ever again. 

He referred me to HITH again so now I am in the community clinic and the Hospital in the Home - where nurses and doctors visit me daily to make sure my heart is OK and that the medication is kicking in. 

It took two weeks of begging, being told that I was an attention seeker, being discharged without care, two emergency room visits, four GP visits, endless phonecalls, the tireless work of MG and that one amazing nurse to get medication started; to get the care that I needed.

As I see how much effort it took to get medical care I can't help but think that everyday people like you and me would find this delay in treating a heart condition appalling. 

But go back and change "heart" to mental illness, and this is exactly what is happening. What happened to me these past few weeks. And it's happening everywhere and we just accept it. 

The stigma of mental illness in the community is greatly reducing, but it remains high in the hospital, the very place we are meant to go for help. Medical professionals not taking it seriously; mocking patients; not bothering to put in referrals; providing a lower standard of care than they would someone with a physical condition. 

It's time to stop accepting that this is just the way it is. It's time to stop punishing those with mental illness. It's time we realised that mental illness is just as real as a heart condition, diabetes, or a broken leg. 

Monday, March 14, 2016

Carrot + apple muffins - toddler approved!

Brought to you by Heinz
#S1 For full details please see my disclosure policy

What is with kids and liking food one minute and then acting like it poisonous the next?

It can change from week to week, even hour to hour at my place, and maaan it drives me mental some days. That's why I'm always after easy toddler recipes that hit the toddler food holy grail - delicious, nutritious and toddler approved trifecta!

These muffins are on high rotation at our place and so far they've never been refused! I'm always varying the ingredients slightly. Adding a handful of chopped nuts if they're not going to school, a sprinkle of seeds, a few sultanas here and there, or even adding some honey to make it sweeter when we have some sweet-tooth visitors coming over. But the basic recipe is as follows:

1 medium carrot - skin on, washed
1 small apple - skin on, washed (that's where all the good stuff is!)
2 eggs
1/4 cup oil or melted butter
1 packet of Heinz apple, blueberry and strawberry puree or any flavour you like!
1 cup wholemeal self-raising flour
1/4 cup honey
1/8 cup brown sugar - optional
1/8 cup oats - optional

Preheat your oven to 180C/350F
Grate your carrot and apple in to a mixing bowl, then add eggs, oil, Heinz puree and flour. If you are using honey, nuts, seeds or sultanas, add them in now. Mix until just combined.
Divide the batter evenly between 12 muffin cases
If using, combine brown sugar and oats and sprinkle over the top of each muffin.
Place in the oven for 15 minutes - have a peek at 12 minutes to make sure they're OK.

I like using the pouches of Heinz puree to add different flavours to our muffins to change it up and help prevent Bobbin becoming bored of the food I give her. I like that their apples, pears and peaches come from Goulburn Valley and are steam cooked in country Victoria.

These freeze really well and even though I say they're toddler muffins, I often put a frozen one in Tricky's school lunch box in the morning and it will be thawed by the time he eats it. MG will take one to work... if there are any left.

I like putting these in mini muffin tins sometimes so that they are nice and small for Bobbin to eat in two bites, reducing the chances of crumbs going everywhere. Also it lets her believe she is having two treats. SNEAKY!

For more easy recipes that hit the toddler trifecta, find Heinz and their quality products online and on Facebook.

Wednesday, March 2, 2016

Should kids have homework?

I was so saddened recently to hear that Tricky will be having homework set this year.

In year one.

I don't mean sharing a book with parents and siblings before bed - which has been shown to have a clear correlation to increased developmental outcomes, both emotional and academic - but worksheets and the like - which research shows has no academic benefit, particularly for children in lower primary school.

I keep being told that I should start preparing my child for highschool because he'll have lots of homework then. The kid hasn't even lost his first tooth yet and homework policy at schools around the country is dictating that he should be starting to knuckle down and get in the habit for something that won't be starting for another six years. Can he not just be a child for a while? Is the six hours at school a day not enough?

My argument was shot down recently by someone who used the old "failing to prepare is preparing to fail" argument and said by opting out of homework for my five year old I was disadvantaging him by not preparing him for highschool.

Prepare, prepare, prepare. It's all I hear.

Just so we're clear, we are talking about getting FIVE YEAR OLDS ready for highschool? Right. I think that can wait. Some countries, that have far greater average academic performance than Australia, don't even send their kids to school until they are SEVEN! There is plenty of time to teach our children study skills, but the time for them to play and be little is evaporating before our eyes.

Then the second he gets to highschool, if it was anything like my highschool, every day someone will mention preparing for university. What if he doesn't want to go to university? What if he wants to drive trucks, or be a carpenter, or join the circus? I remember my friends and I were at times terrified of not getting a high enough tertiary entrance score because it meant we'd never get in to uni which meant we'd never get a "good job" which meant we'd become homeless and we'd die alone and unhappy. A little extreme, but this is exactly how our teenage brains interpreted the pressure to get a first round uni offer.

I'm not against giving kids the tools they need in life, in fact I'd argue that I'm about giving them more tools, but why are we so fixated on preparing them for only one portion of their lives? Can we not cater to the whole child who will become a whole adult, not just a working robot? Someone who has relationships. A family. Interests. A fucking life!?

In the copious amounts of therapy that I've had (and believe me, it's a lot), I've learned that creating a balance between the big things in your life, the things that make you YOU, is imperative. Not just for the good times, but for the bad times - if your identity is based around one aspect of your life, like your career, and that one thing ceases to exist, well, you can be pretty fucked.

If I am my job, then who am I if my position is made redundant? Am I still worthy? Do I have enough of everything else in life, or has the loss of one sector annihilated my entire sense of self?

I don't want that for me (it was hard enough thinking it in highschool) and I certainly don't want that for my kids. I want them to know that life is more than just test results and careers. It's about love, and passion, and fun, and sadness, and heartache, and spirit, and playfulness, and family, and friends, too.

I don't want my child to come home and do more work.

I want my child to come home and pretend - to prepare his mind for creative thinking.

I want my child to come home and bake - to prepare him to cook when he leaves home.

I want my child to come home and play sport - to prepare his body for a healthy life that isn't just sitting down all day.

I want my child to come home and relax - to prepare him to find a work life balance.

I want my child to come home and be with his family - to prepare him to be with his own family.

I want my child to come home and socialise - to prepare him for all the different relationships he'll have over his lifetime.

So I bring back the saying here, again: To fail to prepare is to prepare to fail. By preparing our children to succeed at only one aspect of their lives... we are preparing them to fail at others.

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Mind the gap (tooth smile) - with free printable tooth fairy receipt

This is a C2 post. There was no payment for this post.
For full details please see my disclosure policy
I'm worried. Really worried.

Tricky is getting to a certain age. It's happening to all his friends, and will soon be happening to him.

No, we're not talking puberty, he'll be LOSING TEETH!

Which means... GAP TOOTH SMILES.

Insert screaming and hysterical crying here. No, not his. Mine.

OK so maybe I exaggerate slightly, but while I can handle wobbly teeth (and remember terrorizing my own family by wiggling them around all over the place), I am not a fan of the resultant gap tooth smile.

There I said it.

I don't think it's cute. I think it's completely and utterly gross.

I can only assume this extreme dislike for lost teeth comes from my own journey to gapdom which started when I was a wee babe. My parents put me to bed every night with a bottle of juice or cordial or crystal meth or something like that, and I developed cavities which led to abscesses. Serious stuff. Stuff you should avoid at all costs by taking your kids to a great kids dentist in Perth (or your own city, duh).

So at the ripe old age of two, my two front teeth were surgically removed and thus started the singing of "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth". Again and again and again. The tune can be cute once or twice. But let me tell you, the novelty wears off when it is sung to you for FIVE FREAKING YEARS.

Somewhat related: I actually talk differently to most people because I learned most of my words with my teeth missing, meaning I didn't get the temporary lisp that a lot of kids get when their two front teeth come out and leave a massive gap for their tongue to poke through. Mad skills.

Anyhow, back to what I was talking about. GAPS. I'll put on my best happy face, suck it up and be ready with my pom poms when Tricky gets his first wobbly tooth, and start figuring out exactly how he's going to lose those suckers that wobble for weeks but just don't wanna go.

According to Dr David Beecham, principal dentist at Aim Dental (also known as the dude that gave MapGuy his smile back - more on that another day), the old methods that you and I might have used to remove our wobbly teeth are now considered terribly naff by today's average five to seven year olds. And he would know, because his miniature clients tell him every day.

Here's what is in and what is out:

Three of those are just moving with the times, really. Tooth to string to door explodes in to the 21st century with tooth to string to something with three packets of batteries. But I'm not sure about the Nerf technique. Are we tying the tooth to the bullet or knocking it by firing bullets at kid's faces? Because NOTHING COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG THERE!

Tricks got a drone for Christmas (OMG who gives their five year old a drone? We do. These idiots over here) so I think we're going to have to go with the top ranking quad copter method. Keep an eye on YouTube, OK?

Despite my fear, I created two free printable tooth fairy receipts for you. Because I'm so giving, obvs. If you click the image below, you can download a sheet of three that you can print at home on an A4 page then cut up.

(Note to self: don't close editing program between versions or they'll end up slightly different sizes and annoy you SO MUCH).

I'm going to keep the filled out receipts in a scrap book that I'll probably never look through again, and throw out the teeth or donate them to the spray can factory... because that's not a myth, right? Or apparently you can also pay a shed load of money to have them cryogenically frozen for their stem cells. Nifty, but a little out of my price range.

If you use these I'd love it if you'd put a pic online and tag me :) I'm @glowless on Instagram 

You can also check 5 ways to avoid costly dental treatments for your kids over at Aim Dental.

Tell me your tooth stories - do you love the gap smile? Or do you hate it and want your child to wear a flipper like the kids on Tantrums and Tiaras? 


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