Expanding and contracting and expanding again

I was so sure it would be the Tuesday.  No particular reason, just a hunch. 

Due date was the first or second of September; the midwife seemed to waggle back and forth between them.  I was full and heavy, the most pregnant I'd ever been before.  Maybe I thought Tuesday because I wanted the pregnant part to be over.  I was very apprehensive about the labour part though, so I just kept pushing it away in my mind. 

Magically this process was going to be:

1. Pregnant
2. ????
3. Baby and mother healthy and well

I hadn't laboured at all with Wriggly, not a single contraction, in a story I told in three parts several years ago.  I was partly looking forward to giving labour a go, but pretty nervous, especially in regard to what I consider one of the scariest medical words in the English language, "crowning".  And I knew if labour didn't come on spontaneously soon it would be off to surgery for another sunroof delivery, with nary a uterus quiver experienced, and no chance of labouring with any future pregnancies either.

By 10.30pm I'd given up waiting to feel my first ever contraction and I headed to bed.

An open letter to the NZ media regarding slutwalk

Cross posted from my home base.

Dear NZ media.
I will be attending tomorrow’s “slutwalk” and I am so scared I am seriously considering not going.
I am scared that you will film me, and then use my image to misinterpret what is happening and why I am there.
I am scared that it will affect my job.
I am scared my boyfriend and I’s friends and family will think less of us.
I am scared that people who do rape and assault women will see me, and that will make me more of a target than simply being a young woman already does.
This march is TERRIFYING on so many levels.

But I WILL BE THERE.
But I will be there because I want to raise kids in a country where they do not have to drop rape charges just because they have had sex in the past, and their dating history is visible online.
I want to raise my kids in a country where the first question the police ask is “are you ok?” not “did you fight back?”
I want to hear that my kids can talk about their experiences of assault without the event being a mark on THIER reputation.
I want victim blaming to STOP NOW.

So let’s start with you shall we?
Here is how we will start.

Use our full quotes, don’t cherry pick my words to portray me as anything other than as how I present myself. My mother, great uncle, boss and friends will be watching the news.

Please accept that 99.99% of the attendees are not ACTUALLY marching for their right to wear a short skirt. We can already do that, as noted in all the judgemental footage of the viaduct that you use when covering the drinking culture in NZ.

Please do not only use footage of those dressed provocatively to cover the march – show footage of the wide range of men and women attending.

Please don’t show footage of us crying and call us victims. We are survivors.

Please don’t use footage of us shouting and make assumptions about why we are angry, or whether we should be.

Try for once to actually RESEARCH what we are marching about rather than just guessing by looking at us.

Make it very clear that we are not angry at one ignorance Canadian policeman.
Here are some nice quotes from rape crisis that you can use.

We are angry that we get judged for what we wear even though only 3% of offenders in NZ are actually strangers.

We are angry that people still feel comfortable saying someone is “rape bait” or “asking for it” because of what they wear or how they behave, when we would NEVER make the assumption that someone is a prospective rapist just because they have had a few drinks. What is the difference in judgement?

We are angry that the media spends very little time identifying that it is ok to set boundaries - even with people you love, and lots of time on what we wear when the majority of our offenders are blood relatives (30%) or a friend/acquaintance (30%) of the survivor.

We are angry that you waste time discussing where rape occurred as though we can prevent it by avoiding dark places. Those dark alleyways are in the minority of cases. Most rapes occur IN OUR OWN HOMES (61% of reports)

We are angry that you continue with thoughtless reporting, which adds to an environment where we feel so unsafe about this culture of blame that we DONT REPORT.
(56% were not reported to the Police)

Thank you for your time. I will see you tomorrow.
Kind regards,
Scube

The Grandad Twinkle

Snuffly loves cuddles.  He's quite happy, most of the time, to be cuddled by anyone who is gentle and loving, and everyone is when faced with teh cuteness he brings.  Maybe one day soon he'll start to get that clinginess that sometimes sets in after six months, but Wriggly didn't get it, so maybe not.

I've got quite adept at picking when someone would love to have a cuddle, and offering.  I have no qualms about Snuffly being held by others, even complete strangers, although I know not every parent feels this way and I respect that it's not for everyone.  Often once I've passed him to one person I find he gets shared around a little, as people steal him off each other.  It's nice to share him around like that, for me as well as him, and the cuddlers too.

However I've noticed that men rarely ask.  In fact I can only think of one who has in all this time.  Often they're looking wistfully, with what I call the Grandad Twinkle, and so I'll offer, with no pressure, and hardly anyone says no. 

It makes me a bit sad though that so many men are afraid to show they love babies.  I think they fear judgements that they are perverts, because why would any man want to cuddle a baby that isn't their own?  Probably for the same reasons some women do - because they are lovely joyful things that snuggle into you and make you smile. 

I'll keep looking out for the Grandad Twinkle, and keep offering cuddles, as long as Snuffly's ok with it and small enough to be the right size for those snuggly hugs.  I hope that we build a future where men can cuddle too.

Baby on the Board

The last six months, since I was somewhat surprisingly elected to the Puketapapa Local Board, have been such a whirlwind that my intended post on what it was like at the start, as a woman and as a mother (not to mention as a centre-leftie) went by the by.  Maybe I'll write it Next Week.

However I can share some observations about Snuffly's involvement as the unofficial seventh member of the Board.  He's been at most things, as he was five weeks' old when both his parents were elected.  Three year old Wriggly struggled quite a bit with his younger brother going to meetings with Mummy and Daddy, but now that often they both stay home for the night events, with a friendly babysitter, he's more relaxed.  Still cries when poor S1 or S2 arrive, which must be quite disconcerting, then he's usually happily playing and forgets to say goodbye or wave at us from the window as promised earlier in the evening. 

Snuffly has been a smiley cuddly dream for anyone looking after him, including me.  I simply couldn't be doing this* if he was sick, had a disability, was a reflux baby or had colic.  I'm very aware that his good health, and our good level of resources, are what enables me to be a Local Board member. 

I've breastfed him in all sorts of odd spots - in the kitchen at Tradeshall during the City Vision results party, while I was on the phone to a mate in Wellington who wanted the goss, and didn't tell me the General Secretary of the Labour Party was listening in; in the old Auckland City Council chambers, with portraits of the Queen and her hubby looking on; at the tech training, as the only woman other than one of the facilitators, with a bunch of mainly older men including George Hawkins MP struggling with the new laptops; in a back room at a public meeting angry residents worried that a "The Warehouse" would radically change their neighbourhood; during a hearing on a resource consent for aforementioned "The Warehouse" proposal; and, most uncomfortably, during our inauguration at the start of November, when Snuffly was just two months old and basically none of my business-y clothes fitted.  While it was nice to have several hundred people turn up to celebrate our election, especially my whanau and friends, it was incredibly daunting to have to sit at the front, side-on to the crowd so I couldn't hide behind the table, and feed my small baby at the start of the night.  . 

Generally when I'm feeding Snuffly in public I'm keen to be as discreet as possible.  I can't think of a time with this child or the previous one when I've been at all interested in people seeing my breasts in that brief period when baby is going on or coming off the nipple.  And unfortunately I find breastfeeding really hard, and so with Snuffly I'm still using nipple shields which make discretion tricky.  Luckily I've got quite adept at it, I think; working out which clothes are going to give me the flexibility I need and not flash the world, and how to best manoeurve them and Snuffly in the right dance to minimise pain, maximise milk, and eliminate skin shows. 

I've not had a single complaint to date.  Someone did make a somewhat snarky comment that I could have taken a couple of ways, a month or so back, but I can't remember it now so it can't have been that bad.  Staff in particular, as well as other members of the City Vision ticket, have been amazingly supportive.  Snuffly has been very good about cuddles with others, which has been a relief, and of course his father is often around to share the duties which is immeasurably helpful. 

One of the things I've been careful to do is assume that whatever Snuffly and I need is just going to be ok.  I've stopped myself from asking if I can have a room to put the portacot in, near the meeting venue, and just checked that they know I need one.  We've just turned up, and started to feed when necessary, because at this point we are simply a package deal;  it's only recently that he's been having a bottle enough of the time for me to go into the office without him for a significant period.  Oddly I am now less comfortable about feeding him with the bottle at an event than I am about breastfeeding.  I suspect if I hadn't been so tired and overwhelmed when this all started I might have had the energy to be more worried about feeding in public.  Seems the oddest things have a silver lining.

And I've got amazingly good at assessing the wheeled access of a zillion places, along with which venues have bathrooms where you can change nappies and which don't (*cough* Auckland Town Hall *cough*).  All useful knowledge, and not just for those with young babies either.

I'm not doing this to make a point about breastfeeding in public or how when babies are welcome mothers can participate. I'm doing it because it is the only way I can do it. I hope it does break down some barriers around babies (and their parents) being acceptable in public life, and knowing that it might does make it a bit easier for me to keep going. But honestly if I could not be doing it this way I would. Because it is HARD. To be trying to work, trying to have difficult conversations about politics and learning so much new stuff, when I'm jiggling Snuffly to stop him crying, attempting to judge if he needs to go down yet, needs a nappy change or perhaps will have to be fed early, is really tricky. I don't recommend it.






*  By which I mean what is effectively a half time (plus) job.  They're paying elected members on my Board around $35K pa, equipping us with laptops, vodems and Blackberries, so to me that means this is a significant part time commitment that should be approached professionally and not as just something I do on the side of everything else.  As the Local Boards are a unique structure in local government, and operating for the first time, many members are taking different approaches, as we all struggle to work it out, and to fit our old lives around the new commitment.  It's a great privilege to be on the Board.  I just wish Rodney Hide et al hadn't rushed it all in, because it's a bit of a mess as a result.

Of families and earthquakes

My brother rang me early Saturdayday morning, and told me that there had been a massive earthquake in Christchurch. We're a North Island family, and we don't have family down south, but as it turned out, my beloved uncle was there on Friday night, staying on the eighth floor of a hotel. I was able to contact him by txt and confirm that he was okay, but after that, I stayed off the network.

I spoke to him by phone on Sunday morning. It was terrifying, he said. He woke to his bed rocking and shuddering, and only by clinging on tight did he manage to avoid being thrown out. Many of the other people staying in the hotel were tipped out of their beds. He packed up and got down stairs, and then in company with the other guests, assembled outside. It was bitterly cold. After a while, the hotel staff brought out sheets and blankets. There was no information: the hotel did not have a battery-operated radio. All of the guests were badly frightened. Eventually my uncle made it to the airport. The building was closed, so together with other travellers, he spent most of the day perched with his luggage on a traffic island. People helped each other out, sharing food and water, looking after luggage for each other, supporting each other. A nearby hotel made its bathrooms available for people to use. By mid-afternoon, the airport re-opened, and late in the day, he got a flight to Auckland, and from there, home to Wellington. On Saturday, he coped, but on Sunday, in the safety of his home, he has been very, very shaken.

As the plane took off from Christchurch, the people on board clapped.

I'm sure people functioned on adrenalin on Saturday. There had been a disaster, by who knows what good fortune there had been no direct loss of life, and it was a matter of everyone doing what they could to check on their neighbours and families and friends, to look after people who were injured, to pull together food and water and shelter for the day. But by today, I'm guessing that the longterm nature of the damage has started to become apparent. My uncle and the other people on the flights out of Christchurch will have gone home to comfortable beds, clean water, power at the flick of a switch. Many people whose homes are in Christchurch don't know when they will have access to such basic goods again. A problem for adults of course, but so much more of a problem for people with others to care for. Parents will be worried about food and shelter for their children, adult children will be worried about caring for elderly parents, caregivers will be concerned about the people they assist with daily living. Some people with disabilities may be in extra difficulty too, especially if their ability to live independently is predicated on functioning public services. Things will be all the more difficult because at this stage, there will be no end in sight.

My thoughts are with the people of Christchurch.

Some other thoughts: The old buildings in Christchurch were damaged, badly, but the new buildings, built to earthquake standards, survived. Not only are the building codes excellent, but they are administered by a corruption-free inspectorate. This weekend, we New Zealanders have good reason to take great pride in our corruption-free public servants.

As people in Christchurch are coping with the earthquake, people in Victoria, Australia, are coping with floods.

Cross posted

The market as judge: good for baked beans, not so good for childcare

Cross posted

As has been widely discussed, New Zealand's National government decided that one of the best places to save a bit of money was in Early Childhood Education. Childcare centres would no longer be required to 100% qualified staff (with grandparenting provisions for existing staff who were working towards their degrees); instead, only 80% qualified staff would be required, and centres would be funded at that level.

It's a downgrade. And it's a downgrade that means that parents will have less assurance about the quality of care and education that their children are receiving. We all know that good quality early childhood education is critical for children, and all the more so for children who don't come from privileged middle class homes. There are plenty of children who turn up for their first day of primary school, having never held a book in their hands, having never had a book read to them, not even knowing that in European writing systems, we read the left hand page, and then the right, and then turn the right page over. One way to give these kids at least half a chance, to ensure that in our supposedly egalitarian society there is a minimal semblance of equality of opportunity, is to ensure that they get good quality early childhood care. We need to make sure everyone has a chance, that everyone can get a good education, if we want the children who are in childcare right now, to grow up to become citizens, people who are part of our society, people who have a stake in it, people who want to make a contribution, instead of forever feeling that the bosses and the big important people just don't give a damn.



As a society, we should be deeply concerned about the quality and availability of early childhood education. We rely on having expert and well-qualified teachers and carers in our childcare centres and preschools, because we are concerned about the future of our society. On top of that, most parents want to be sure that their children are in good care. So they rely on having expert and well-qualified teachers in childcare centres and preschools.

But the National government has decided that early childhood education just doesn't matter all that much, so that's where "savings" can be made. As for quality assurance, well, Granny Herald has got a solution.

The market will provide!

It is easy to insist little children deserve nothing but the best. And working parents who place their infants in childcare want to be assured on that score. But "the best" at this level might not require professional training. The best could include people with an aptitude for caring but not for academic study and tests. Checks on their performance can be reliably left to a competitive industry that must constantly satisfy observant parents.

Editorial: Preschool Budget cuts right move

Oh good grief! Early childhood education, indeed, any education, is not like a can of baked beans. For starters, it's not as though there is a whole shelf full of childcare centres, from which you can pick one. The supply is limited, especially if you are constrained by other factors, such as needing childcare near your home, or your work, so that you don't spend hours every days commuting between one place and another, with tired children in the back seat. But more importantly, it can take time to work out that a child is not thriving, time to work out that for all its glossy brochures a childcare centre doesn't really have the resources to care for your child, time to work out that some of the staff who looked so lovely don't in fact know how to manage children, and have only taken the job because there is nothing else they can do. One of the great guarantees that comes along with demanding degree qualified staff is that you know they are genuinely committed to early childhood education, committed enough to slog their way through a degree, because this is where they want to be.

But the time you have been able to work this out, your child is six months older. Six months is not such a long time for an adult to endure a poor job, but it could 10% or 20% of your child's life. Time enough for a child to lose out, to slip behind developmental guidelines, to miss out on critical early learning experiences. You buy one can of baked beans and it turns out to be not so good? Well, you can always go buy another brand the very next day. But "buy" the wrong type of childcare, and the consequences could be much more severe than a meal that isn't quite as good as you would like it to be.

I know some fabulous women and men who have worked in childcare - my mother, a cousin who is doing her degree, a former male student who was a qualified nanny, the wonderful, gorgeous, Jackie Clark. What distinguishes these people is their commitment to children, exemplified by the qualifications they have worked hard to get. Those are the kind of people I want to see in early childhood education.

I would like to see the National government think a little harder about what it wants to achieve in education, and why, and how, instead of simply thinking that it can be trimmed and cut without anyone much noticing the difference.

As for where the money is going to come from? I hear there's a cycleway that isn't being built. Perhaps that might be a good thing to trim.

Children are people too

Cross posted

Over at Feministe, there's a monster thread concerned with policing children's behaviour. According to some people on the thread, children shouldn't be allowed. Our public spaces should be free of them for fear of them ruining the grown ups' day.

That's a bit of an exaggeration. But only a bit. Mostly it's about children being kept out of restaurants and movie theatres, and how parents are necessarily bad parents if their children cry, or run about, or create any kind of disturbance. In short, if they behave like children.

There's a lot to not like in the thread, and given that it's now over well over 300 comments long, I wouldn't bother with it. I think the thing that disturbs me most is the assumption that many people make (both in the thread, and in real life), that my children will be noisy, and disruptive, and they need to be KEPT UNDER CONTROL. The effect is to treat children as though they were smelly, slimy bugs that have crawled out from under a log, and are objects of disgust.

It's a commonplace way for children to be treated. Years ago, because another child had cried during a wedding ceremony once, we were told that we could not bring our 13 month old daughter, from whom I had never been apart for more than a few hours, to a wedding ceremony. The assumption was that she would cry, and that I wouldn't have the sense to take her out. One of the local inexpensive family restaurants we go to on occasion serves drinks to children in nasty plastic mugs, not even mock glasses. We have to ask specially for our sensible and careful daughters to be given glasses. When we got onto a plane with the kids, people roll their eyes, and look put out and angry to be seated beside children. Yet our girls are quite capable of managing a few hours in a seat on a plane without creating any more trouble than any other passenger.

I do not understand why my children, and any other children, are treated with suspicion. Not all the time, by any means. Not everywhere, by any means. But often enough, instead of making the same basic assumption that applies to adults in public spaces, that is, the assumption that the adult will comport her or himself in a way that makes the space easy for everyone to be in, the reverse assumption is made. People assume that the particular children they see right in front of them will do something that disturbs the adult, before even giving the children a chance. It's a nasty prejudice. And yet it's one that many people (see that thread at Feministe for example), seem to embrace. It seems that it's okay to say, "I hate children."

And even if the children do "misbehave", so what? Lots of adults do that too. They take calls on their mobile phones and sit bellowing at the restaurant table so everyone can hear them, they talk at the tops of their voices full stop, they fart in crowded lifts, they neglect to wash, they abuse the waiting staff. And yet, they are still allowed to go out in public.

Enough with hating children, with treating them with contempt. Children are people too.