Blogs for Happiness #7: Autumn in the Yarra Valley. Part Two

I came to consciousness gently this morning, slowly realising that the drumming beat I could hear was coming from the paddock below our house. The neighbour’s horses were enjoying an early morning frolic. And why not I thought, as I pictured them tossing their manes and tails in the air as they galloped with what sounded like utter joy to be greeting a frosty, nippy day. 

The first encounter with the neighbours that we had when we moved here 9 years ago was with Lollypop, a charming black horse with a white blaze. She rode down our driveway with Morgan atop, a gorgeous young girl, and both so excited there were new people to check out. Morgan wasn’t looking for apples in my pocket though! It would have been Lollypops’ daughter and friends that I heard this morning celebrating the coming of autumn.

It’s lovely to hear the horses but not having to get up in the cold and muck them out. We’re surrounded by productive, busy farmland: horses to the east and south, sheep, pigs and cows to the north and strawberries to the west. The labour that is involved with the upkeep of these beasts and bounty we observe mostly from a distance. We quietly cheer the farmers on as they wrestle with building fences to keep rambunctious stock where they’re supposed to be. We help out from time to time, chasing pigs and horses out of our yard when the fences have come second in the battle for supremacy.

The embarrassingly small amount of labour that we do at our place involves making jam and chutney when we feel like it and trying to keep the foxes from killing the chooks. (Have failed several times on that front-that’s a whole other story!) We have a small orchard that has had to look after itself. For the time I was pregnant and then when McEwan was still small, the fruit plummeted to the ground, the thudding of the overripe orbs noticed only by the birds. The parrots, magpies, cockatoos, currawongs and butcherbirds feasted on neglected white peaches, figs, plums, apples and nashi pears. Oh and mandarins, oranges, grapefruits and lemons. Almost forgot those. 

I had such dreams of abundant production when we bought this place. I was going to be knee-deep in delicious concoctions I’d made, all sourced from our permaculture style of living. How those dreams have gone by the wayside.

This year however, I’ve been able to get out amongst it all, as McEwan is a great little helper now. I collected one kilo of blackberries from the runaway vines that were strangling an orange tree. So some good did come of turning our back and letting nature have her way with our unruly, untended, overlooked and frankly overwhelming acre.

I’ve decided to turn over a new rust coloured leaf this season and actually tend to the garden in a more orderly fashion. I shall get help though as the restraining of ivy, the taming of blackberries and the beating to submission of Wandering Jew and Holly will be a task bigger than Ficus Benjamina Hur.

Wish me luck-I’ll invite you around for a garden party when I’ve uncovered a spot where we could actually sit!

My Website: Books for Happiness.com

Blogs for Happiness #5: Kinder>School>Real World-How do the Transition Programs stack up?

Having a four year old at Kinder we’re starting to look at schools. The Transition Program has started already, and it’s only March. There is a great deal of emphasis on ensuring each child is comfortable and at ease for this huge change in life.

Some schools start their transition visits next month, and a part of me is crying out “Can’t they just enjoy being four?” What’s the rush, I ask? But perhaps those schools aren’t for us.

We had a lovely time recently at a local school fair and for the first time ever my son left my side to chase other boys around the yard. It was water pistols at 20 feet for an hour and a half. Coincidentally I chose to get some shade at the stall that was run by the Prep teacher and now I’m loaded up with brochures on ‘The Friendly School’.

As a result, when we drive past that school now, McEwan says ‘That’s my school I’m going to with Rider’. Even when we point out other schools, and other friends going to it, he’s quite determined. It’s very sweet and reassuring to see his confidence and certainty.

What I like about this school that we’ll probably choose is the continued emphasis on creativity and fostering individual interests. Toddlers learn that imagination and exploration of their world is so important. Just look at all the toys that are made to encourage these skills.

We are also, much to the parents’ relief, reassured about differences in development as each child is expected to be at different levels of capability. For a while I was concerned that McEwan was ‘behind’ in his counting because he showed no interest at all in counting to 20 and all his little mates did. But recently he nailed it, and proceeded to count every item in the house for days on end: the stairs, his cars, the peas, and was hitting his stride in the 30’s and 40’s and on and on.

I imagine the transition into High School from Primary is also implemented with such support, care and attention to the child’s comfort.

However, I am starting to question how well we transition teenagers into the real world from High School. I started to ponder this whole issue a few weeks back when at the chemist.

Poor McEwan. The dentist has told him to stop sucking his thumb as he has changed the shape of his mouth and his new teeth won’t have enough room to grow in. So now I’m taking this seriously. We’ve tried consequences and rewards-but have realised it’s not behaviour; it’s a habit.

I had finally decided to buy the nasty tasting stuff that you put on your nails. It’s pretty drastic for all of us.

The young sales girl assured me I had chosen the right product. ‘Oh yes, I used to bite my nails terribly’ she said. “It worked really well and I stopped. Oh, except for Year Twelve, at exam time. It didn’t work then.”

Well, that stopped me in my tracks. How could something have been allowed to become so stressful for someone at such a young age? Why did she feel so much pressure that something that was previously toxic to her became powerless to help? Where was the support and transition program in place to ensure that this girl felt comfortable and excited to be taking the next step in life?

What I want to ask is this: why does the Education System transform from encouraging creativity and imagination in young children to squishing it with stressful exams and unreasonable pressure to perform and be rated in boxed-in comparisons with others?

And now I wonder if perhaps parents haven’t been helping either? Can’t we take a lesson from our younger years and foster individualism and creativity in our teenagers too? Surely Blue and Pink hair is just another great drawing brought home to show mum and dad. At what point do parents change from being proud of their children’s artistic abilities and self-expression to grounding them for it? Do you have an insight for me?

Raising Children: B4H

Blogs for Happiness #4: Alien Anal Probe or VE: What Would You Prefer?

I pose to you the above question, keeping in mind that I managed to get through my entire pregnancy without having to have the dreaded Vaginal Examination. It wasn’t until the very last stages of my labour that the doctor tried manually to get my cervix to 10 cm, as I was an inch shy of doing it on my own. By then I was grateful for any technique used to deliver my boy safely to the world. Forceps, epidurals, surgery; bring it on!

I’ve watched dozens of films that portray the VE as a mandatory part of a maternal health visit to the doctor. I hope that it is just because it is such rich comedy material, because I’m sorry, now I’m thinking, ‘Pervs!’ when I discovered that VEs aren’t necessary unless there’s trouble perceived.

The same goes with scans. It irritates me when I hear couples say, ‘We’re going for our 20 week scan’ as if it is something that has to be done as part of the routine. Through lots of research, I’ve read that scans are a very useful tool in the Health Industry when things aren’t going to plan. However it seems they aren’t needed in a routine, healthy, normal pregnancy. Some research shows that results from scans are a bit iffy too-not so great with the accuracy. How would you feel if you terminated a child that a scan had shown to be defective in some way, only to find out the scan was incorrect? The whole ‘defective’ theory is another conversation to be had about our perceptions of ’normality’ and the gift that is a child, any child.

Immunisation suffers from the same fate.  I’ve read that it is primarily aimed at lower socio-economic families where good nutrition and health is a problem. You don’t have to have it. If you feel uncomfortable about your child being injected with substances such as Aluminium and have read horror stories of children being damaged by immunisation, then you don’t have to do it.

We used Homeopathic Immunisation in the lovely form of little sweet pills. You just sign a conscientious objector form and away you go.

Please don’t get me wrong, I am absolutely for all these wonderful innovations that mankind has invented to improve our health and safety. And choice. (I think if I got pregnant again I would like to know the sex this time.)

What annoys me is that the Health Industry (and megabucks industry it is) doesn’t present these technological miracles as choices but as seemingly mandatory.  Not to mention the huge financial drain (and profit for some) on the Health Service to use these services so frequently-money that could be put towards other needs.

I’d like to see these modern medical aids more clearly presented by Health Professionals as choices. And I’d like all the young people starting to have families to know that.

Spread the word; we can choose how probed we’d like to be.

My Website: Booksforhappiness.com