Entitlement

My mouth is still open in shock from a conversation I had last week with the grandmother of a 10-year-old girl with serious entitlement issues.

While visiting relatives overseas, the 10-year-old had apparently fallen in love with their house. This is perfectly normal. What I found disturbing and abnormal was that the girl had then presented the relative with a piece of paper asking that he write on it that she was to get the house after he died! And apparently this is not the first relative she has hit on in this way.

Where on earth does a 10-year-old get the idea that this is normal and acceptable behaviour? I used to joke that based on the behaviour of its student body, the very expensive private school she attends (and Hannah will not, even if we win the lottery) must have classes on materialism and entitlement. But I suspect that one must look much closer to home.

Whatever our financial situation is in the future, Hannah is going to be brought up knowing that if she wants certain material things, she will have to work to pay for them herself. This doesn't mean that her father and I won't help her if we can - my entry into home ownership was made much easier thanks to relatives who helped me get together the deposit for my first (relatively modest) flat but I never expected or demanded such help. And by work for them I mean a regular job as a gardener, engineer, cafe manager or the like - not as a glorified prostitute who only dates/marries men of a certain income.

I know from my own experience that the freedom that comes from the knowledge that you have and can support yourself financially is worth more than a dozen expensive houses bequeathed to you by others. Every gift comes with its own price, emotional or otherwise. It is exhilarating to look around my house and know that aside from a few pieces of furniture and dishes (and the original assistance with my first deposit) both it and everything it contains is the result and my and my husband's hard work. I don't want to deprive Hannah of this experience.

Little Miss Chatterbox

Hannah has started chatting away in her own language which, alas, is still incomprehensible to us. But we are trying.

Hannah: "Bwa bwa bwa bwa bwa."

Dad (looking Hannah in the eye): "Really? You don't say!"

Hannah: "Bwa bwa bwa bwa bwa."

Dad: "You make sure you stand up for yourself and tell them so!"

Hannah: "Bwa bwa bwa bwa bwa."

Mum (getting into the spirit of things): "I totally agree."

Hannah: "Bwa bwa bwa bwa bwa."

Mum: "That's a very interesting point Hannah. I think you should start coming to my work meetings. You have a lot more to contribute than some of the people who turn up."

Baby back ribs - yum, yum

If anyone lacking a sense of humour overheard Hannah's dad and me talking about her we'd probably be up on charges of intent to commit cannibalism.

"Yum, yum baby back ribs..."

"You can have the ribs, I want those nice meaty drumsticks."

"I'm basting her with the special sorbolene sauce."

"Baby stuffed with mummy-milk. Yum, yum."

Hannah clearly appreciates her inherent tastiness. She spends most of he waking hours now sucking her fingers and hand and trying to stuff one or both fists at the same time into her mouth. Maybe she is a self-cannibal.

I'm not quite sure why so much of our humour around Hannah is so black. Because we love her so much and would never do her any harm.

The Queen has spoken

The Queen has spoken. None of this crap frozen milk for her. It must be freshly expressed and stored for less than 3 days in the fridge. We discarded the first lot of thawed milk thinking it may have got contaminated but she rejected a second lot too. Now, what to do with a month's worth of rejected frozen breast milk??? I also have to work on cutting down my over-supply.

Back to work

The day after Hannah turned 11 weeks my paid leave was used up and I returned to work. I expected changes and challenges but wasn't quite ready for what greeted me. I had been moved out of my own office and my computer placed at a desk in an open plan area, just in front of the new boss' office. I had my back to him and was facing a blank wall and a bookcase blocked my view of everyone else - except the male casual employee encased in a large glass office to my right. I had no phone or power point to recharge my phone or netbook.

And that was before my boss told me he was thinking of changing my job title to something that to me sounded a lot less responsible and professional than the one I had had previously.

I was in total shock. I had just wanted to go back to work and get on with doing my job – in fact I’d been looking forward to the intellectual stimulation and getting back into the swing of things. I knew there would be some changes but it was hard not to perceive what I found as anything but an attempt to intimidate and undermine me; it was completely insulting and unprofessional.

I now, however, must accept that this wasn't a personal attack on me as a mother returning to work but a reflection on the general upheaval in the organisation. A call for voluntary redundancies had gone out and by lunchtime on my first day back every single person in my new department (aside from my boss and another colleague on long-term leave) had applied. Did I even have a job to come back to?

One thing that had been organised properly was a lockable room for me to express my breast milk. I had sent my boss a polite but direct email about 3 weeks prior to returning to work explaining that I would need a private hygienic room to express.. It was also possible that my jokes about expressing in front of the CEO’s office if suitable accommodation was not provided had reached him. This was too much for the middle-aged men in the office to deal with and I got the room.

My colleagues have provided me with a lot of support. I heard a lot of stories from older women who didn't have any paid maternity leave and who had had to express their breast milk in the toilets because there were no facilities. (I refuse to hide in the toilet; after all adults wouldn’t prepare their meals in the toilet -why should I prepare Hannah’s meals there?). I think they all quite like the fact that I'd been very upfront in asserting my rights in regards to the breast feeding issue.

With regards to my workstation, I finally got an office thanks to intervention from several other managers and my workplace rep. I had a full and frank discussion with the new boss about my expectations of being treated as a professional and with respect. I asked him directly if the organisation wanted to get rid of me and, if so, I would appreciate if they had the decency to say this to my face. “Oh no, no, no, no," he claimed.

I even managed to negotiate working a day from week at home and a new job title that was at least on par with the one I had previously.

I’m trying to relax and keep an open mind and see what the next few weeks bring. But I so understand why so many mothers give up and drop out of the workforce or end up working at a job far beneath their ability. It’s hard enough to only see your child for a couple of hours each work day; this kind of ‘welcome’ back to work makes it almost impossible.

Vacination day

Yesterday Hannah got her first round of vaccinations - polio, diphtheria, whooping cough and more. Unfortunately whooping cough has made a comeback in Australia, partially due to moronic ill-informed parents who believe the risk of side-effects from vaccinations outweigh the benefits. I guess this happens when we forget that thousands of children used to die each year from what are now largely preventable diseases.

So Hannah's father and I also had a booster whooping cough shot accompanied by a tetanus injection.

Interesting fact: apparently vaccinations only 'take' in about 90% of recipients, according to our maternal health nurse. Those who aren't properly immunised are protected due to the fact that the majority of people around them are protected and hence not getting and spreading the disease. But once you have too many people opting out of vaccinations everyone who isn't fully immunised is at risk of getting the disease - including that 10% of the population who thought they were immunised. And this is what happened with whooping cough in NSW. Whooping cough is not a big deal for healthy adults; in fact they may not even realise they have it while they are spreading it around the community. Hence the push for carers, as well as babies, to be immunised.

Hannah was the very last baby to receive her shot at the health centre. Which was a good thing as she expressed her displeasure by opening her bowels and releasing a stench that could be smelt a kilometre away.

It was still better than risking she get polio or whooping cough.

10 weeks tomorrow

Hannah Smiles for Daddy

Hmm, mum has been a bit slack in updating the blog!

Over the past 4 weeks Hannah has:

• Had her first illness - conjunctivitis - which embarrassingly manifested itself at a party held in her honour where we asked everyone with sick kids to stay away.
• Started sleeping through the night (averaging 6-7 hours now - we have to be very quiet about this at the New Parents' Group where many babies only manage 2-3 hours at a time).
• Discovered her hands which she explores with her mouth and tongue at every opportunity.
• Pokes out her tongue at every opportunity - this is apparently an essential step in her learning to talk.
• Been out and about with mum on playdates, visiting her new 'best friends' - Georgia the fashionista who is passing on her outgrown clothes (Sonya's daughter) & Josephine, Bronwyn's daughter who is just 3 weeks younger than her and the only baby we've met to have even more hair than Hannah at such a young age.
• Visited mum's work and met the new boss as well as other colleagues - I've put in a formal application to work 2 days a week from home and am hoping the new rights for parents to request flexible working arrangements will assist with this.
• Visited 'Aunty Mel' and her children in Gisborne (who passed on even more gorgeous handknits for her), an indoor play centre in Footscray (where mum met up with Sonya & Nadine from work) & Ana in Yarraville (who is due to give birth any day).
• Had lunch in Hurstbridge with Grandpa Alex & her Uncle John.
• Caught up with 'Aunty' (honourable title) Susan in Toorak and lunched at Georgio's in Malvern.
• Attended Joshua Solomon's 6th birthday party (today)

And I'm sure there have been other things.

Mum has still been taking plenty of photos - including ones of Hannah in her latest knit; an 80s black rainbow funk version of the rather more sedately named 'Elizabeth Tunic'.

Six-week spurt

Hannah is growing up fast. On Monday she hit six-weeks and right on schedule her lungs further expanded and she is now able to inform the entire neighbourhood that she is hungry or overtired or needs a nappy change or is just having an existential crisis.

Her 'witching hour' has turned into a 'witching afternoon and evening'. Fortunately a bath provides her (and us) with some temporary relief.

She has also learned how to smile but we haven't yet been able to capture it on camera.


And here is a gratuitous picture of me lying on the couch with Hannah. Note both Snoopy and Hannah's feeding bottle in the background and the rejected elements of Hannah's last meal on my clothes - I obviously wasn't quick enough with the burp cloth that day.

Spot the difference

Hannah Gitl

Tinky Winky

Hannah's first Pesach

Hannah comes in two modes - 'on' and 'off'. We haven't yet found the switch and suspect it is buried deep inside her.

She can be completely rampaging one minute and then she just stops and falls asleep. This just cracks us up laughing (possibly in relief).

However, she was beautifully behaved at the Seders. Here is a picture of Hannah being fed by her dad at the second night Seder. She is modelling a highly appropriate bib given to her by our friend Sam Nagel who trekked all the way from Elsternwick to Hurstbridge to see her.

She (and we) had two very different experiences this year.

First night was with the Mecoles family. A few years ago the Mecoles, who are not observant, decided that if they were going to continue to have an annual Seder they had to create something that was meaningful for them. The result is possibly the most meaningful and enjoyable Seder that I have ever attended, and certainly the one with the best discussion and conversation.

The son, Damien, runs a quiz where each person selects their topic (this year they were 'general knowledge', 'philosophy', 'religion and culture', 'tricky theology' and 'Passover re-enactment'). The questions trigger the kind of spirited intellectual discussion that I once fantasised existed in universities. Although most people at the table are avowed atheists or agnostics, it's the deepest and most meaningful religious discussion I have ever experienced at a Seder.

While Hannah couldn't join in the conversation this year, she was wide-eyed and alert and seemed to be taking it all in.

Second night was with the Solomons who, although not biological family, have adopted us as though we were. It was the first time the parents, Joel and Ruth, had seen Hannah and they could not have been more proud and excited if they were the 'real' grandparents. Somehow within 2 minutes of arriving, Hannah was being cuddled by Ruth, while Joel was pulling out jars of baby food he had bought for her! (Hannah doesn't start on solids for at least another 3 months.) Hannah was definitely a bit of a spoiled darling on the night - there were seven other children there - all boys, six of them aged between four and eight! As you can imagine it was very noisy and physical.

We are so privileged to have such close friends who have welcomed us into their families. While part of me was very sad that Hannah wasn't spending her first Pesach with her biological extended family, it was so lovely for all of us to be welcomed with genuine joy and unconditional acceptance into our friends' families.