International Women's Day came, went, & I spent a lot of it scrubbing faecal matter off of children, out of clothes, from under my fingernails. We are three months into 2017. Five weeks (or is it six?) into the school term. I think that's pretty good travelling for our family when it comes to health. But just as I was stretching my writing muscles and celebrating the absolute joy of four consecutive child-free days a week a gastro/tummy bug caught the kids.
For the first few days I was in disbelief. I honestly didn't think it was sickness. Just a meal that didn't sit right in little tummies. But now it's been five days and I have a laundry sink of washing soaking in bleach, and then I received the awkward phone call that my kid puked on the school playground this morning. So now it's coming from both ends. There's more washing. And I have a cherub with me and one across the road with grandma. Joy. I totally get that this is life. In fact, this is life with or without kids. Germs are inevitable. But it frustrates me to end that our society is not responsive to the life-cycle of children and their years (YEARS!) of dependency. I have been working my arse off to be the primary parent - the one who scrubs the poo, who stops my work when the kids need someone to care for them when they are too sick for childcare. This is a decision that was made because I chose to pursue the personal goal of further study, making me the adult in the family living the more flexible life. In the back of my mind I hear those who admonish women for stepping out of the workforce. 'A man is not a plan.' I know. I get that. I've watched too many women, my own mother included, struggle when they are the ones who shoulder the weight of financially supporting themselves and their family when a relationship breaks down. But can't a FAMILY be a plan? Can't we reshape our norms a little to give more space and acknowledgement to the DECADE it can take for those gorgeous bundles of joy to become independent beings who may still want a cuddle but no longer need it as a matter of survival. Can't we reshape our understanding of labour to acknowledge that my work in the home is just as economically valuable as my husband's work out of it? I love my research work. I love my parenting work. Both research and parenting operate within rapidly changing environments requiring flexibility, ingenuity, frugality and goddamn persistence. They both bring much joy. Feeling like motherhood is something that has to be accomplished as soon as possible so I can return to the workforce and become an economically viable member of society brings me absolutely no joy at all.
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