Off to work today?

Like thousands of other people, I became redundant during covid. After over a decade working as an academic teaching social work, I put up my hand to take a voluntary redundancy from my employer. There just were not enough students nor enough dollars to keep all staff and some of us needed to leave. I consider myself lucky that I had a permanent job and an employer offering redundancies. So many have lost their jobs in highly casualised work or gig economies. To be honest, in the midst of home schooling and lockdown, it was a relief to not also have the added stress of working.

I was prepared to take some time away from paid work to have a break and make sure my family made it through the pandemic in as calm a way possible. What I was not prepared for was how many others seemed to have an opinion on this decision.

It first started a few days after being made redundant. After grocery shopping, the staff member at the check out casually asked ‘So, off to work today?’ Now, I could have lied but decided to be honest and replied honestly ‘No, just heading home. I don’t have a job, I lost it because of covid’. The staff member gave me a sympathetic look and apologised that I was not working. The following day, I had an appointment at a hairdresser who started our conversation with ‘So, what do you do?’ Again, I explained that I did work but am now not working. The hairdresser and I then spoke about others who had lost their jobs.

I continued to have the same conversation other the last few months with too many people to mention. Sometimes, this conversation ends awkwardly. However, most of the time it opens up conversations to talk about other people’s experiences with unemployment or being made redundant.

What I was not ready for was how so many strangers feel the need to comment on my unemployment. As well as opening conversations, it has also resulted in me being directly asked ‘So, when are you planning on starting looking for work? You can’t do nothing for ever’ (This was asked by a very young staff member at a check out while I had both my young children with me. I am not sure how I was projecting an image of doing nothing). A rather grumpy man overheard a conversation I was having with a friend in a café and grumbled quietly ‘Plenty of good jobs out there, you can’t be too picky’ (I think he will find employment statistics would disprove his theory and he makes the assumption that looking after children during a global pandemic is not worthwhile). Finally, are those that assume because I am not working, I am on unemployment benefits (I am not) and will directly tell me things like ‘Lucky some of us are working and paying taxes’.

These negative interactions make me sad. They make me sad thinking that we have created a world where staying home and looking after my young children is not as worthwhile as earning dollars. They make me sad that we have created a world where people who are long term unemployed must have been having these conversations for years or decades and how soul destroying that must be. They make me sad that we have created a world where people who pay taxes feel the need to use this as a way to demean those who receive financial government support.

They also make me more determined that I will continue to have these conversations when someone asks me ‘Off to work today?’

Sorry I broke up with you, Facebook

I have an admission to make. Up until last week, I was preparing to break up with social media. This had been building up for a while and I had finally made the tough decision to break away from toxic fake relationships and close all of my accounts.

Maybe it was turning 40 that did it but I was becoming cynical. After too many interactions with trolls and that sinking feeling ‘If I needed help, how many of my friends or followers would be there to help me?’ played on my mind. So, I deactivated facebook, cancelled twitter and stopped writing this blog. I would smugly tell people who asked if I was on facebook that I was taking a social media detox and planning to start a digital-free life. Things went well and I was certain that I would never need to log on again.

Then, we came home to find one of our dogs (Molly) had passed away and our other beloved dog (Jax) was missing. After consoling my children, knocking on the doors of neighbours and walking the streets looking for any sightings, I logged back on to facebook. Within seconds of posting about Jax, all of those friends and followers that I doubted were reaching across the virtual divide and helping. In only 5 minutes, my post was shared dozens of times, I had been invited to join lost dog registers and photos of my dog went viral in my community in Central Queensland.

I sat at the computer stunned that all of these people stopped what they were doing to help find my dog (I was certain we would do a Karadashian and eventually break the internet). Then, I was floored to see my virtual world hit the real world and people grabbed their torches and hit the ground looking for Jax. People I never even knew sent me messages about where they were looking. A lady I did not know sent me a message that her dogs were barking and she was going out to investigate what was happening. Friends, strangers and neighbours all joined forces for me and my family. And this all happened through facebook.

Sadly, as hopes were high and sightings of a small brown dog came through, we found Jax. He had also passed away and was hidden in behind a golden palm. In the midst of my grief was also dread of having to go back to facebook to thank everyone for looking and telling them the news. In the midst of my grief was also the thought of all the nasty comments ‘How stupid are you? We were out looking for your dog when he was dead in your backyard all along?’

When what I really wanted to do was just delete and deactivate, I thanked everyone and went through every post and email to let people who the outcome. Then, in the early hours of the morning when the children finally calmed enough to sleep, I opened my laptop and prepared for the abuse. Instead, what I received was hundreds and hundreds of messages of condolence. All those virtual friends who were people I went to school with but never saw again, people who I had once worked with or been in a baby group with many year ago – all of them – were there in my time of need. Every post that had been made had replies of sadness and empathy, of people sharing their own stories of loss, stories of hope and ideas how to process what had happened.

Facebook, I was wrong about you. In my time of need, everyone was there. To all my facebook friends, thank you. I won’t doubt you again.

Life Lessons from Love and Loss

When I was 7 years old, I met my first Cavalier King Charles Spaniel and I was in love. The dog belonged to my Aunty and I can no longer remember the dog’s name, its gender or its colour. What I do remember is how cute it was and how it would patiently let me sit and pat it for hours. Growing up, I would constantly ask Santa for a Cavalier in a basket. The Cav in a basket never arrived and life got in the way and I never managed to get that Cav.

It was decades later when I was married with a toddler and a baby that my husband mentioned a work colleague who had two Cavs that needed rehoming. I was on the phone arranging to pick them up quicker than you can say ‘Cav in a basket’. And so over the Easter break in 2013, we brought home two very timid but cute Cavs, Molly and Jax. I did pretend that they were coming home to teach the kids life lessons in responsibility, empathy and caring for others. In truth, they joined our family because of their beautiful fluffy little faces.

Just as I remembered, they were cute and patient and would happily let the kids put them in toy prams or carry them like babies. They refused to play fetch and would get tangled in their leads going for walks. They would fight over their food and shed fur all over the house. They were perfect.

While Jax was happy with attention from anyone, Molly and my son, David, were best friends. When Molly joined our family, David was only just starting to walk and we used to think Molly was protective of him because she thought she was his Mum. David and Molly had that child/pet relationship I thought only existed in movies. They played together and went on walks together (I once even caught them in the shower together) but what made it so special was all those moments they spent just together. If David was reading a book or watching a movie, Molly would be at his feet. The years passed and Molly and Jax grew older. The walks David took Molly on became shorter and she would start to take just a little longer to run to the front door when she heard he was home from school. Molly started to wheeze when she breathed and we could see that she was having difficulty getting up from her bed in the mornings.

The family grew concerned about Molly but more so about how David would react when the inevitable happens and Molly passes away. Kids need to learn about loss and grief but I worried as the bond between them was so strong. It was about six months ago that David asked me a question that made my heart drop, ‘When I grow up, will Molly come and live with me?’ I looked at his pleading eyes and felt his little 7 year old heart break as I told him ‘No, love. Molly will not be alive when you are old enough to leave home’. I will never forget the look of horror on his face.

At least once a week, he would have a cry at the thought of losing Molly, his second Mum. I also noticed he was extra gentle with Molly. He stroked her slowly and rushed a bit quicker to see her in the afternoons. He lay on the grass with her and carried her onto the lounge to watch movies. He hugged her just a little bit tightly and kissed her just a little bit more.

Last week, we came home and followed our usual routine of David and Lilian running outside to play and I heard a cry I hope to never hear again. I can only describe it as the desperate sound of grief. Molly had passed away. Thinking she was sleeping, David had hugged her only to realise his beloved Molly was dead. The children cried into the early hours of the morning. I did not sleep at all, crying over Molly but also at the sadness about to be experienced by David. We would all have the day away from school and work to talk about our feelings and how we would cope.

I gently woke up Lilian and we had another cry and started to prepare breakfast when I went to give David a cuddle so he would wake up gently. He was upset but not as grief stricken as others in the family. He talked about Molly and how he missed her but he also seemed to have grown up over night. It was David who consoled us, he talked about the good memories and seemed to have bounced back quicker than any of us would have expected.

Just tonight, I asked him how he was feeling about everything that had happened over the last few days and his answer was ‘Once you told me Molly was not going to be with me forever, I knew I would dread the day that would happen. So, I loved her more and treated her like every day was her last. I think she liked it that she had her last hug from me. Can I play the Nintendo now?’

So, it looks like the Cavs in a basket did teach a life lesson. I think a life lesson for all of us.

I was wrong about Harry Potter

I need to be upfront here, I hate fantasy. I have never seen Star Wars. I could fall asleep hearing about Star Trek. I really cannot see what all the fuss is about over unicorns. Until last week, I had never seen or read Harry Potter. Alas, while others flocked to book stores and lined up at midnight to see the next movie hit the screens, I never really saw what all the fuss was about.

All of that changed as my children got older. It was about 3 years ago that my 5 year old son finally asked to watch Star Wars. I relented, popped some popcorn and snuggled up with him on the couch…and put on Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and told him that Arthur Dent was Darth Vader. Sure, it is still fantasy but a damn sight shorter than the thousands of prequels and sequels that go with Luke, Darth and Leia.

It was last Sunday while flicking through Netflix that both the children found Harry Potter. They yelped with excitement while I plonked down and promised it would only be the first movie and we would see what it is like. My thoughts were it was a nice little kids movie, I have no idea what the point of Quidditch is and why on earth they don’t have electricity connected to the castle. We were comfortable and content so what is the harm in watching the next movie? And the next…and the next…

In less that two weeks, we have managed to finish the entire series of Harry Potter. I now have to admit I am a convert. I cheered on Harry, Hermione and Ron. I now completely understand about the Horcrux, who the Half Blood Prince is, the story of the 3 brothers and that Mrs Weasley is one bad arse mum. I found myself chuckling under my breath the other day muttering ‘stupid muggle’ to someone who has not yet been converted. I would say our Harry Potter movie marathon was a big success, except we may need grief counselling! Dumbledore was a shock, Sirius Black was sad but watching Dobby’s little body being put into a grave by Harry was utterly soul destroying.

I may now turn my attention to the Fantastic Beasts, but only if no elves are harmed in the making of it.

I have started a blog….but I have nothing to say!

So, I have started a blog. It seemed like a good idea earlier today when I was sitting at home procrastinating. I had to choose between doing some writing for work or hanging out the washing. Instead, I had the brilliant idea to start a blog. I have excitedly spent most of the day choosing colour schemes and font sizes from word press. Now, with the kids in bed asleep I have come to share all of my wisdom with you. I had images of a legion of followers nodding in agreement to my musings or having a little giggle reading about funny things that are happening.

The only problem is, I have nothing to say! I am a mum to two wonderful children but I wouldn’t say my parenting is exceptional. Both kids are loved and fed and played with but I have no idea about children’s crafts or exciting ways to build a fort out of cushions. My bedtime routine consists of story and then crossing my fingers that they go to sleep. I certainly do not know enough for this to be a parenting blog.

I am okay at budgeting but could never tell you how to get 5 meals out of one roast chicken or thrifty things to do with left over bits of soap. So, a frugal blog is out of the question. I did make my breakfast in a nutribullet this morning so I did think of a wellness blog for a while (until I remember I followed my healthy green smoothie up with cheese on crackers and M&Ms for lunch). I have nothing to sell and no outstanding skills.

So, let’s just see how this goes. Maybe someone will read it, maybe they won’t. Either way, I am going to give this a go!