1st World Privilege

Believe it or not I was having a very deep conversation about the above on Mumsnet, of all places.

It started in a topic section called ‘Am I Being Unreasonable.’  The topic is pretty much what it sounds like.  The person asks ‘Am I being unreasonable to blah blah blah’ and people tell them they are or they aren’t.  Usually quite forcefully and with a lot of ‘you morons’ and things like that.  It can be quite bitchy and actually a lot of fun.

So the thread title was ‘Am I being Unreasonable to shop at Primark?’

For the non-UKers in the audience, Primark is a very very cheap clothing store well known for using 3rd world suppliers and paying them small wages to keep their prices down.  Prices like £2 t-shirts and £5 jeans.

So, is it wrong to shop there?  Is it really better to shop at M&S or Next or some other high street shop and spend a bit more?

Nope.  Because the truth is that those clothes are (usually) made in the same 3rd world country sweat shops as the Primark stuff.  The high street retailers just spend more money on advertising and fancy stores so charge you more.  Oh and make more of a profit.

The truth is that we are all privileged to live in the so called 1st World.  Our kids don’t have to go out to work to help us put food on the table.  But you know what? It wasn’t so long ago that they did.

If you look at the history and reason behind child labour laws, which really only came into being at the beginning of the 20th Century, they weren’t only to protect children but also to ‘even the playing field’ among the classes.  My son, the son of a University Teacher, probably wouldn’t have had to go up chimneys.  But your son, perhaps the son of a dock worker here in Belfast, probably would have had to join his father at the docks as soon as.

So my son got an education and your son built the Titanic.

It’s how the world was.

It’s also true that children weren’t considered precious less than a 100 years ago.  Another child meant another mouth to feed, an excellent thing when most people lived on farms and needed all hands.  And those hands started working very, very young.  Once the move to cities began, children became less necessary and more of a burden.  Unless you could send them up the chimneys, down the mines or to the docks.

But I think the real issue with first world privilege is the 1st world’s assumption that the 3rd world resents sending their children and themselves out to work for what, to us, is a pittance.  But we don’t know for this is true.  Sure, we can watch documentaries and be shocked by the conditions and the low level of money.  But we aren’t there.  We aren’t living their lives.  Maybe the pittance they earn is better than no pittance at all.

For the record, I do support Fair Trade.  I buy everything I can that is marked Fair Trade.  I only drink Fair Trade Coffee and eat Fair Trade Chocolate.  I buy M&S Fair Trade cotton T-shirts.  I am not a monster or unfeeling to how some other kid on the other side of the world is treated.

But I am also going to continue to shop at Primark for cheap, not too badly made, clothes.

I completely enjoy my First World Privilege.  And am honest enough to say so.

Once Again Feeling Like A Crap Mother

I am not saying I am a crap mother.  Just that I feel like one lately.

Why? Because Adam has had 3 ear infections and 2 chest infections, 2 of each in the last month. And has had to take antibiotics for them.

Why do I blame myself?

Because I couldn’t breastfeed.

Everyone (yeah, ya know, everyone; they’s neighbours?) says that breastfeed babies have much better immune systems. That they never get ill.  That they walk at 2 months and talk at 3 months and go to Harvard at 3 years old. Oh and they can drive by the time they are 18 months.

Obviously I am being hyperbolic about this, but its almost that bad.  If  you formula feed, for what ever your reason, you are, basically, stunting your child for life.

I would normally laugh this off.  I don’t do competitive parenting, I think its ridiculous.  But this one, about a weaker immune system, is hitting really close to home right now.  As my son coughs himself awake night after night.  As goop drains out of his ear and his fever spikes to 100.6.  May not sound all that high, but he’s normally around 97.4.  So its about 3 degrees.  That’s a lot.

That’s all happened in the last week.  And I put off taking him to the doctor because I just couldn’t believe he had yet another infection.  So he didn’t get any antibiotics until Thursday.  When he probably needed them starting Tuesday.  And I should really listen to my Mum.  Who told me to take him to the doctor on Wednesday.

Another reason to feel like a crap mother.  Because after just 2 doses of his antibiotic, he started acting more like himself again.

In any case, I know not being able to breastfeed was not my fault.  I had no milk.  Fact.  I may or may not have had milk if Adam hadn’t been a C-section, if he hadn’t needed to be in SCBU for 9 days, if if if if if…but I didn’t have any.

So I gave him Cow & Gate.  And no one can say he hasn’t thrived, my 31.5 inch, somewhere around 30 pound, at nearly 15 months son.  But he does keep getting these bugs.

Now, everyone knows daycare centres are hot beds of germs.  And he’s proving it.  He was out of daycare more than he was in it in August.  And now he’s missed another 2 days.  Just as he was settling in so nicely.

So I feel guilty.  Is it because I had no milk? Could I have had milk if I’d just tried a little bit harder?

Of course not.  Well, the lower immunity might be, who really knows?  But I had no milk no matter what I did.  And I did it all.

So, Mummy Guilt rears its ugly head.  And I feel like a crap mother.

Even though, in my head, I know I’m not.

Could someone just tell my heart that?

I Am Sure I Am Not

the first person to stare at their child and wonder.  Not just at how quickly they are growing or at the fact that they are a parent.

But wonder at the magic that is the creation of life.

About 22 months ago an egg met a sperm and 37 weeks 6 days later a full human being came out of my tummy.

Think about it.  A full, complete person was inside me.  And then wasn’t.

With fingers and toes and hair and eyes and ears and a mouth and all those things.

And now that small being is bigger.  And turning, right before my eyes, into a real person.  With a personality and likes and dislikes.  With hair that needs trimming and nails that need clipping.

That talks.  And thinks.  And learns.

That is beginning to walk.  And feed itself.  And plays.

That is rapidly turning from my baby to my little boy.

That can clap its hands.  And use a spoon.  And show you how big he is.

That can say Dada and look towards his Mama when you ask him where she is.

A whole complete human being.

That grew in my tummy.

Miracle of life indeed.

Man, What A Downer This Blog Has Been Lately

Just because I’m having a crap time doesn’t mean the rest of you have to suffer!

So let’s see, what’s going well in Robyn’s life…

She found her wedding ring.  In Simon’s sock drawer.  Which was behind her when she tripped. So the universe conspired as not only did the drawer have to be open, but the ring had to fly into the air, over her head and into the drawer.  Simon found it when looking for, surprise surprise, socks.

Adam seems to be settling a bit more with each visit to Day Care.  She hopes she has not jinxed herself by writing that as he doesn’t go back until Monday.  She is hoping a few days off, with all of Mama’s attention, will help him on Monday when she leaves him again.

We have hot water.  We did not have hot water last night. No idea why.  Plumber came, plumbed things, and now we do.

Shower is being replaced in the En Suite.  The paint on all the walls, inside and out, of the loo has been buckling and chipping off for awhile.  Landlord told building management.  Building management said it must be tenant’s fault.  Landlord, thank god, didn’t believe that, but agreed to see if replacing tile shower with PVC would solve problem, along with stripping and repainting the buckled bits.  So that’s in progress.  And she is very pleased with the choice of PVC.  She was thinking landlord, being like most landlords, would go cheap with plain white.  She is getting marble effect instead.  And being PVC? Much easier to keep clean than tile as not so many seams.  She was hoping for a new shower pan and door as well, but it was not to be.  See? Cheap landlords. 🙂

She managed to upgrade this here blog all by her lonesome.  She’s very proud of that fact even though it was really very easy.

And now she is wondering why she wrote this entire post in the 3rd person.

Reflections on a Year

Well…over 13 months.

Anyway, as Adam and I gear up for our next big adventure, him starting day nursery and me having free time away from him on a regular basis, I’ve started to reflect on the past year.

As this year has gone by there have been some truly horrible moments.  Moments when I’ve sat crying, Adam in my arms, exhausted, overwhelmed, aching with arthritis and fibro and depression, knowing Simon wouldn’t be home from work for hours.  Knowing that I couldn’t even call him and ask him to come home early because he told me about a big meeting or he’s teaching at a far away campus.  And wondering if I was the most selfish person in the world for having a baby with all my health issues, both mental and physical.

So I asked my sister, was I? Was I incredibly selfish to have Adam?

And she was, as always, brutally honest.  She said, you well know that I had reservations and worries when you got pregnant.  That your brother and I were both worried about your mental health and physical health issues.  And you know what? We worried for nothing.  You are a wonderful mother.  Adam is thriving.  Your company is taking off.  So, no.  You were not selfish to have Adam.  You wanted a baby and you had a wonderful one.

And I cried.  And I cry as I write this.  Because saying it out loud was hard enough.

Finding out I was wrong? Was even harder.

Because it showed me something I’ve never wanted to believe about myself.  I am just like everyone else in the world.  I have doubts.  I am, at times, hard on myself.

And I hate that.  I hate that I care what others think sometimes.  I hate that I question my ability to be Adam’s Mummy.

Because Adam is indeed thriving.  Not just because he’s 31 inches tall and weighs 28 pounds.  But because he’s starting to talk.  And walk.  And feed himself.  So he doesn’t talk English and he stumbles and the spoon is usually up side down?

He’s learning.

And so’s his mum.

In Case Anyone Is Wondering

I didn’t go to Iain’s funeral.

I am not sure I can explain why, except it didn’t feel right (and had nothing to do with not having anything to wear, honest).  I have been saying good bye to him a little bit each day and grieving in my own quiet way.

If anyone would like to know more about what Iain was like, there is a fantastic tribute page to him here, complied by Group Intellex.

My favourite quote has got to be Eoin Lambkin’s, who is a mutual friend as well as business acquaintance, who said “…he had a special way of spinning everything into a positive and never had a bad word for anyone, even if he thought they were plonkers”. Well put, Eoin.  Sums Iain up perfectly.

I Just Keep Thinking…

I  just spoke to him Tuesday. How can he be dead?

Iain Paul Kay was my friend who died suddenly last week.

I’ve known Iain for about 5 or so years, through our mutual work for the Science Park.  Iain worked in Network Sales for Atlas-Communications.

Since I’ve been on maternity leave, and now that I’ve started Designed To A Tee, we’ve become friends.  We’ve had coffee, we’ve chatted on the phone.  We’ve made plans for working together.

And Thursday morning he was found dead in his house.

And I, like everyone who knew him, are in shock.

He wasn’t ill.  Oh he smoked.  He probably ate a bit more than he should.  He’s been having some stressful times.  But he was fine.  He and I joked in our usual manner.  And signed off with ‘Okay, talk to you soon.’  As we always did.

The funeral is this Thursday, and in a reeling way that Iain would so appreciate, along with ‘But I just spoke to him on Tuesday’ my head is filled with ‘But I have nothing to wear for a funeral’.

RIP my friend.  I already miss you desperately.

Now Let’s Talk About The Copenhagen Summit, Shall We?

Let me start this particular blog post by acknowledging two things: –

Thing 1 – Simon  and I do not recycle.  This is because until about a year ago recycling was not made available to the apartment dwellers at Belfast City Centre.  Then, once it was, we discovered that our buildings recycling room was locked from about 430pm to 9am Monday through Friday and 24 hours on the weekends.  In other words, it was only open when we were at work.  So we had no where to put our recycling.  Now that I don’t work, I suppose we could start.

Thing 2 – Adam wears disposable diapers.  Because they are easier for me.  And I already do enough washing, thank you very much.

Those two things being said, I would suspect that Simon and I have a fairly low carbon footprint anyway.  We don’t own a car.  We go everywhere either on foot or on the bus with the occasional taxi ride.  We rarely fly any where (yes, we are going to California for Christmas, but our last trip on a plane before that was to Tuscany for Simon’s sister’s wedding in September 2008 and the one before that was Florida 2.5 years ago.  So maybe we fly once a year? Maybe?).  We are both obsessive about turning off lights, not leaving the TV on standby etc.  Our biggest electrical expense, we imagine, is the washer/dryer which is on nearly every day thanks to baby vomit etc and our dishwasher.  We have lived without, and will probably again live without, a dishwasher.  But we are enjoying it while we have it!

Now that that’s out of the way…

I have some serious doubts about what we are being told about climate change.  Yes, I’ve read both sides of the story.  I’ve seen the charts that show the average rise in temperature over the past 100 years or so.  And about the melting of the Polar Ice Cap.  I am still not sure I believe it.

Why? Because I have been told many many things over the past 40 years by so called experts about our planet that haven’t come true.  I remember being told in elementary school that by the time I was out of school there would be one long city stretching from New York to Florida.  Where is it?

I was told in high school, by my father, who worked for Kennecott Copper Corporation (who were purchased by SOHIO in the early 80s which was in turn bought by BP in the late 80s) that we would run out of copper by the beginning of this century.  I still see an awful lot of copper top batteries about.  And copper wire.

I was told, also in elementary school, that we would run out of fossil fuel just about right. Now.  Funny, still seems to be flowing.

So how on earth is anyone truly suppose to believe that the world might be in real trouble in another 40 years?  Especially with the language that is used.  Might. Possibly.  Could.

Nothing is definite.  It can’t be.  There are too many variables.

And what about this summit that is starting?

Well, first of all, why isn’t it being done via teleconference and over the web?  I read recently that the carbon footprint of the conference? Is equal to the amount of carbon being put into the air by Luxembourg over a year.  So they are off to a great start, aren’t they?

I am not precisely sure what they are hoping to get out of the summit, although I have heard that it is a do or die sort of situation.  That all the governments must come to an agreement about carbon emissions or the world will end in, maybe, 40 years. Yeah.  That’s gonna happen.  Cuz all the G8 Summits have been such big successes (really really need a sarcastic font!).

And, honestly, the planet is going to be fine.  The human race may die out, but maybe we deserve that.  But the planet will recover.  Its been around a very long time.  And will be here long after we’re all gone.

Maybe that’s a weird attitude for me to have.  If it all happens in the 40 years they predict I will probably, based on my genetics, still be alive.  And my son will be 40.  So why am I so blaise about it?

The same reason a lot of people are.  Because even 40 years is a very long way away.  Its the entire time I’ve been alive.  My whole life.  To me? That’s a very long time.

So until they (ah the infamous they!) can give me, and many others, a definite answer that something horrid is going to happen in 40 years if we don’t change our ways, we aren’t going to change our ways.

Sorry.

Personally, what I really hope? Is that this mythical occurrence in 40 years will give mankind the push it needs to truly reach for the stars and colonize other worlds.  Even if I don’t get to go.

So, Let’s Talk About Health Care…

Most of you may not know, but I used to work for Kaiser Permanente in California.  To be specific, I worked for KP-IT, which is exactly what it sounds like KP’s information technology division.

In fact, I just found out that the project I was assigned to, which was called something like NIS (National Insurance System), has finally gone live.  When I left KP in 2003 to move to the UK (well, actually, when I was made redundant, but I digress) the project was about 5 years overdue and about $1m over budget.  It was (and apparently finally is) a system to allow KP’s clients to access their health information online.  It was 99% ready to go when HIPAA was passed and we pretty much had to go back to the drawing board.

Anyway, I only mention this so that you, my lovely readers, realize that I have quite a bit of experience with US healthcare, at least HMOs and of course with the UK system.

Let’s also straighten that out real quick.  I don’t live in Ireland.  I live in Northern Ireland.  They are, in fact, two different countries.  Northern Ireland is part of the UK, and hence part of the NHS.  The Republic of Ireland is its own country and I know nothing about its health care system. Although I hear its about in great of shape as the US’.

Let me also state here that the NHS is a huge organization serving millions of people.  And that I already know that my experiences here in NI can be very different from the services in England.  Each ‘trust’ or area can and does have their own criteria etc.  But for the record? For the most part? The NHS does an amazing job.  For not one penny out of pocket for its users.

Yes, of course, we pay for it through our taxes.  But we don’t miss that money.  You can’t miss what you never had.  It is taken out before the pay goes into our account.  All it really is, is a number on a pay slip.

And because of that number on that pay slip I never have to think ‘OMG Adam is sick, where am I going to get the money to take him to the doctor.’  Or, in our very real case, ‘OMG Adam needs an MRI.  I hope our insurance covers it.’  Because our insurance does cover it.

Yes, we had to wait 3 months for that MRI.  But that’s, really, for a very good reason.  Because there are other people more ill than Adam who need the MRI machine first.  The Lump doesn’t affect Adam at all.  As far as he’s concerned its always been there.  Its grown with him just like his arms and legs have grown with him.  The Lump has stopped growing, which is a bit of a relief for Simon and me, but for Adam? He couldn’t care less.  He rolls onto his left side as easily onto his right.

However, if it was affecting him?  If he had needed to be seen right away? He would have been, of this I have every confidence.  Why? Because when I dropped him and he hit his head? We were seen by a doctor within about 30 minutes.

Not that we haven’t waited ages in A&E.  About 2 years ago Simon cut his finger very badly on a broken coffee mug.  We waited most of the night in A&E that time.  Because, again, there were more urgent cases in front of us.

But what about day to day, non-urgent or usual care?  Well, if I call my doctor on Monday? And I say its fairly urgent? I can usually see one of the GPs by Tuesday.  If I say its very urgent, such as when I had a cyst on my shoulder that got infected and then burst? I was seen within 2 hours.  Just the other week when Adam was exhibiting signs of an ear infection and had a croupy cough, I got him in to see one of the GPs within 2 hours of my call.

Now, it wasn’t his official GP.  But that’s okay, because part of the reason Simon and I are with this GP practice is because we both like all three of the GPs in it.  And Adam is with the same practice.  He doesn’t have a paediatrician he has a GP.

If he needed a paediatrician, like when he broke his skull and his rib, he had one.  And she was lovely as well.

Also, let’s keep in mind that my pregnancy was classed as high risk from the moment that little stick said pregnant, because of my diabetes.  And I had my first OB/Endo appointment about 3 weeks after my GP sent the referral letter.  And, again, paid not one penny out of pocket.

So, yes, you hear bad things about the NHS.  About dirty hospitals and overworked staff without enough resources.  But I haven’t experienced that here in NI.

But I would have to say, in my very humble opinion, it is better than what goes on in the US.  Where it would appear that health care, decent or otherwise, is a privilege and not a right.  Where if you aren’t rich, or don’t have health insurance, as so many don’t, you can’t afford to get sick.  Its disgusting. And heart wrenching.

If I did live in the States I would be happy to have my taxes raised so that those without coverage could get it.  Because there were times when I barely had coverage.  Where I paid outrageous premiums through COBRA or private insurance just to make sure I was covered if something horrible happened to me.  Where I didn’t go to see a doctor for about 2 years just for a check up because I didn’t want to have to pay the money for it.

Yes, people abuse benefits systems.  People abuse it here in the UK as well.  But at least here in the UK we all know, all of us are entitled to the same level of health care as everyone else.  Yes, there is private health care if you want to pay for it.  But you don’t have to have it.  And I don’t.

As an aside, do you know  how KP got started?  The organization that is now Kaiser Permanente began at the height of the Great Depression with a single inventive young surgeon and a 12-bed hospital in the middle of the Mojave Desert. When Sidney Garfield, MD, looked at the thousands of men involved in building the Los Angeles Aqueduct, he saw an opportunity. He borrowed money to build Contractors General Hospital; six miles from a tiny town called Desert Center, and began treating sick and injured workers. But financing was difficult, and Dr. Garfield was having trouble getting the insurance companies to pay his bills in a timely fashion. To compound matters, not all of the men had insurance. Dr. Garfield refused to turn away any sick or injured worker, so he often was left with no payment at all for his services. In no time, the hospital’s expenses were far exceeding its income.

Read the rest of the story.  Its the beginning of the pre-payment and co-payment insurance system.

Too bad the system is now so very broken.

So, Here I Am…

over half way to 41.  And I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, in between nappy changing, cuddling, soothing and playing, about what exactly that means to me.

I remember approaching 40 with no more anxiety than any other birthday.  Well, I was 5 months pregnant at that point, so any anxiety I was having was wrapped up in that!  But also, what did I have to worry about?  I was about to have my first, much wanted, child, I was (and still am, BTW) happily married and my job, while not making me rich, at least never made me bored.

So how do I feel now?  A little more anxious, actually.  Its almost as if, having sailed through 40, 41 is going to be the big one.

For one thing I am, of course, much more tired, (who wouldn’t be with a baby in the house?) even with my previous insomnia issues.  And being so much more tired, all the time, means that I am almost constant pain of one sort or another.  Mostly in my hands and left knee.  Which we now know is fibromyalgia.

The left knee is also due to the weight I gained while pregnant.  Which I am working on losing!!

So I think 41 is going to be my ‘big’ one.  My 40.  Of course, at the moment I’m planning a spa weekend with some wonderful women I know for that weekend.

So maybe I’ll be 41.  But I’ll be relaxed.

And probably drunk. 🙂