How To Ask Mothers if They Work

I have a new friend - at least we are becoming friends! Her son is new to Matthew's class and her younger son is the same age as Adam. So we have got together a couple of times to chat while the boys play. And while she looks after her twin 6 month old boys. That's right, 4 boys, 2 of which are 6 months old.

It occurred to me after the other day when we had spent the afternoon together, that I don't know what she used to do when she worked, or if she has worked since having any of the kids. That got me thinking about some awkward conversations I have had where I have ended up over-PC-ing. Example:

'Do you work?' 'No, I am at home with the kids' .Gosh, well then you do work! Ha ha' 'Yes, just not for any pay! Ha ha.' 'I meant outside the home, sorry, not that you did nothing!' 'No, I know what you mean...!' You end up feeling like you have asked someone what they used to do, back when they were a person and not a Mum. I end up throwing 'outside the home' into the initial question to show my complete understanding for the fact that they do in fact work very hard. But should I do that? Is that not more patronising in itself?

At school there was a government initiative that got all the girls to think about jobs in science. It had laudable aims and was intended to challenge the perception that science was for boys and jobs linked to scientific third level education were somehow off limits to women. I remember sitting in this random van that was going round all the schools and the woman going round the group asking us all what we wanted to be. I mumbled something along with the rest of them, possibly teacher, but I remember very clearly thinking: 'Mostly, I want to have a family and be a wife and mum and I am not that bothered about having a career.'  The van was definitely not the right place to express this; this was obvious to me even at 14!

And I am more than happy to have got a degree and to have had a brief teaching career followed by 5 completely different jobs. Jobs as opposed to a career. That distinction is quite clear in my mind and I am happy enough with it. When I didn't know if I was ever going to be able to become a Mum, I remember feeling quite frantic about what on earth I was going to do for the next 40 years. Although I have enjoyed most of my jobs, I really did want to have a family - but this wasn't an ambition I felt I could really share with many people, if it could even be considered an amibition and not just opting out. Out of a career, out of feminism maybe, out of everything that has been fought for on women's behalf for a long time.

Cherie Blair recently made a speech that was widely reported in which she was very critical of so-called 'Yummy Mummies' who are betraying all that feminists have fought for by settling for marriage and looking after their kids instead of pursuing a career.

Or am I in fact doing exactly what was fought for: choosing? Just because my choice resembles what most women ended up doing by default in previous generations, when there wasn't a choice, doesn't mean it isn't just that: a choice, MY choice.  And, bigger than that, a choice Andrew and I have made together. Equality is surely about having the choice, not about being forced into doing something you don't want to do, whether that is 'holding the baby' or doing the 9 to 5 thing.
I am now on the receiving end of those questions: 'do you work?', when , according to the tax authorities at least, I don't. I don't want to appear defensive and retort: 'yes, but not for pay and the hours are terrible!' I do have time to myself every day and I am thoroughly enjoying the absence of that endless pressure to succeed at work while having a clean house and food on the table, so I don't want to paint myself as a martyr. But I don't endlessly swan around boutiques and coffee shops either, and I work bloody hard as a Mum and housewife and in supporting Andrew in his career.

Perhaps the best reply is: 'Yes, I am a feminist housewife!' It's all about choice baby!

Birthday Boys

When I tell people that my 2 boys have the same birthday, despite being 2 years apart in age, I get some very different responses.  

The one I never quite know how to answer is: 'Oh, no, that's awful for them!' It is?  Gosh, how terrible of me to have inflicted this on them...  Oh wait, there was nothing I could actually do about it!  What exactly do people who think this is such a bad thing expect me to do about it?  And why would it be such a bad thing?

No worse surely than having a Christmas birthday, which has always struck me as kind of hard for people.  But I don't think I would point this out to them! Again, it's not like they had any say in the matter and they just have to make the best of it! For example, a friend whose son has a late December birthday, always holds his party in November, just to make sure it's separate.  

A lot of people respond more positively and think it's a huge novelty!  We are sometime asked how we managed this.  Well, just count back nine months from September 9th, it's not a huge mystery really!  No, we didn't intend to have 2 babies with the same birthday, but, here we are! In fact, we had assumed there was a large chance of us having further miscarriages before having a second baby; we had 3 before Matthew was born. Thankfully, this wasn't the case, but we had assumed there might be a bigger age gap.

For the boys, I don't think it makes any difference.  They are now old enough to know that this is not typical and to explain, as Adam puts it: 'we are brothers but we are not twins.' Because the age gap is 2 years, Matthew genuinely doesn't know any different and doesn't remember Adam not being around or having a solo birthday.  For obvious reasons, we weren't even with him on his second birthday, but we had a party for him in August (I was the size of a whale at this stage...) and he had a grand day with his grandparents while his brother was being born.

For the last 3 years we have held joint parties as we were able to keep things quite low key.  But of course once they are at school, kids get invited to loads of parties and are exposed to all kinds of things that they want on their birthday!  And last year's joint effort was tricky, as 3 year olds and 5 year olds don't necessarily respond well to the same activities.  Example: the 3 year olds held on to the parcel at Pass the Parcel and were quite bemused by the concept of giving away this great present someone had just handed them. At this point most of the 5 year olds were freaking out: 'Pass it ONNNNNNN! PASS IT ONNNNNNN!" It was fine, but a bit stressful...!

So, 7 kids tomorrow at home for Adam's 4th Birthday Party: Pass the Parcel, Musical Statues, decorating cupcakes and eating chicken nuggets and chips.  Sorted.  10 kids on Thursday at Kidzone, the local soft play centre: manic running and climbing, followed by more chicken nuggets and chips and cake.  And, the big present for me on Thursday: go home to an empty, clean house and have no clean up to do!

They each got very different presents as they are very different boys and they will have completely separate parties, which will hopefully assuage the people who somehow think we are mean for having them on the same day...

GHD - but not the hair straighteners...

I can't remember when I first knew I was smaller than other kids my age. I certainly don't have any memories  of when I was first diagnosed with Growth Hormone Deficiency and started receiving treatment. This used to be injections twice a week, given by a nurse.  Eventually, as the dosage and medication changed, the injections were daily and my parents had to learn how to administer them.  They used to practise on teddies and oranges. Although they only used water, they used to joke about coming down in the morning to giant bears and fruit! When I was 13 I went on a dance tour for 3 weeks so I had to learn how to give myself the injections; something I really never learned to do more then tolerate.

We would travel for a check up every 3 months. (My sister also has GHD, so it was a family day out!)  We got to miss a day of school and always had chips on the way home.  That was the good bit.  We also frequently had blood tests, x rays and a doctor who always got a slightly higher number then our actual height out of the check up by stretching us up by our chin - painful!

Growth Hormone Deficiency is a hereditary, well, disorder, I guess, rather than illness.  In my family it comes from my Mum's side.  She had 2 uncles who were small, but neither had kids.  She is one of 6 kids; 3 of whom grew normally and 3 of whom also had GHD. My mu had 2 daughters and my sister and I both have GHD.  My sister has since found out that we had a 50% chance with each our kids of them also having GHD.  This has proven to be a very accurate statistical prediction as we each have 2 kids and in both families 1 of them has grown well and 1 of them has turned out to need treatment for their growth.

In my case it is Adam, my younger son (pictured here showing how big he is, but cheating slightly...) who more or less stopped growing when he was about 4 months.  His check ups at the local clinic showed such small amounts of growth for several months that it was pretty clear pretty early on that he was likely to need some help with his growth.  My niece had just been diagnosed, so it was not hard to figure out what was going on  When we went to Crumlin children's hospital for the first time to meet the consultant, I really wasn't sure how seriously we would be taken and how many months they might decide to monitor Adam's growth before starting treatment. So, I took my mother with me!  She was a brilliant illustration of our family history and the consultant was actually delighted to see 3 generations of GHD patients.  We were very pleased that he started Adam on growth hormone medication just 2 months later at only 14 months old.

It is very odd to take your child to their growth check ups every few months as a parent when you have such vivid memories of being taken as a child! The clunk of the measuring bar as it came down sent a shiver down my spine the first time Adam was old enough to be measured standing up.  His latest visit was last Wednesday and he is growing so well!  On our first visit, he didn't register on the growth chat at all for his age he was more or less under the 0% percentile! On Wednesday he registered at the 75% percentile! It is truly astonishing to be told by random strangers at the playground that he seems tall for his age!  That certainly never happened to my sister or me, but the medication has been developed since the '80s and we can expect Adam to achieve a completely normal height compared to his peers, which is just brilliant.

2 final thoughts on this:

I am immensely grateful for the Drug Payment Scheme in Ireland which covers his medication.  Apparently, the full cost would be about 15000 EURO per year. We do hit the full monthly charge every month, but that's much much less than the total should be.  I wrote to Mary Harney while she was still Minister for Health to express my thanks for this as I don't take it for granted!

And lastly, a visit to Cumlin absolutely exhausts me - I come home every time feeling flattened. Then I remember that Adam isn't sick in any way and that there are parents visiting the hospital while I am there to bring their kids to chemo appointments or to have serious and life limiting diagnoses confirmed.  Every time I come away wondering how they cope with the emotional and physical exhaustion this must bring. I hope I never have to find out.