emma_in_dream

I no longer have pre-primary kids. I now have big, school age kids – Ruby is going into Grade one.


Time to stop and reflect that life is much easier. Things that I no longer have to do – for instance, going out is so much easier. They walk to the car and get in – Pearl does up her seatbelt. Ruby’s hands are not strong enough to buckle herself in but she can unbuckle the belt and also open the door from the outside though not the inside.


Time was when Pearl’s anxiety meant she could not be left in the car so every trip to the petrol station involved unstrapping them, taking them in, shepherding them back and then restrapping them. Time was when her anxiety was so intense that if I walked around the back of the car rather than the front of it where she could see me, she would freak out.


Things are certainly improving greatly and my life is much easier in many ways. Although, conversely, this just frees up time for paid work. But at least that means more money.


I have always felt that having children is a bit like being hit viciously and repeatedly in the face. This is not going to convince the childless that it is great having kids, but to me this is how it feels:


Here is your baby, she is lovely. BLAM – she can’t breathe. Now you can hug her. THWACK – she chokes on the milk, she has no suck reflex. Finally out of hospital? Then WHACK! It’s time to notice she is super floppy and take her around a series of doctors who will pooh-pooh your concerns as those of an over-anxious first time mother until BLAM! They decide it is serious and suggest it might be cerebral palsy.


WHACK! Your child fails to thrive. The doctor describes her legs as wasted. PUNCH, PUNCH, PUNCH. No one can diagnose her problems. Got that under control? Hours of physio! Because she can’t balance properly, she can’t be toilet trained! PUNCH! Your child is ‘odd’ and not doing well at school.


Parenthood is a long series of happy moments interspersed with being BEATEN at random, unanticipated moments.


I read a thoughtpiece once where a woman said that parenting was like slogging through a leech infested jungle in the rain and every now and then you come into a clearing where the sun shines down and you see butterflies. Then back to the jungle.


For me, there is a lot more of the happy periods but they are certainly interspersed with being punched in the face.

I would like advice from other people on a confidential basis *and not to be discussed in front of the children*.

The child who sits next to M in class is one of the kids whose father soaked him in petrol in a domestic last week. His younger sister was set on fire (survived).

To start with, Jesus fuck. He set his kids on fire. Jesus. *I* feel shaken.

So M is a very naive and kindly child who would find this unimaginable. She has clearly not taken it in (it was discussed in very vague terms at school) and I'm not telling her.

If she does find out, what advice?

Because, Jesus Christ, he set his own children on fire.