The Editor's Blog

I have a Bad Mother confession to make. Neither of my kids, Indiana (8) or Levi (7) has ever been to the dentist. It’s not something I am proud of but I have to admit that it is something I have put off year after year while hoping that the Good-Tooth Fairy would smile on us and keep our kids cavity free.

But it was on the Easter weekend just gone that my head was mercilessly wrenched out of the sand where I had buried it. My son Levi developed an abscess on his gum which I think may be the direct result of a tiny hole I spotted on one of his molars.

Levi first complained of discomfort late on Easter Saturday but this didn’t stop him from cramming the other side of his face full of chocolate the next day. But when Easter Monday rolled around I was starting to worry. A quick Google search did little to allay my fears as it turns out an abscess is no smiling matter.

But, like all good kids, Levi had chosen a public holiday as the preferred day to be unwell. I had no idea how to find a dentist at such an inopportune time. I tossed up a trip to the emergency room but felt that, while I knew we would not be laughed out of there, we would probably be forced to wait for a long period of time due to the non-urgent nature of his affliction and the usual overworked atmosphere at any of our local emergency rooms. But I did recall seeing the GP Access facility at the John Hunter Hospital when we were there last. I grabbed the phone book and found the number for the GP Access After Hours service. I couldn’t believe my luck when they scheduled us in for 12 o’clock that day - no waiting around for hours and it was a public holiday! The facility we visited was on Hunter Street, Newcastle – a shiny new building dedicated to public health. The service was fabulous and the doctor who saw us prescribed the necessary antibiotics to heal the infection until Levi could get to a dentist. It didn’t cost me a penny and the details of the visit were forwarded through to my GP.

It was during the next week that I started to wonder which dentist Levi should visit. The severity of his problem meant that cost was of no concern, but I had visited a few dentists around town over the years and had never been lucky enough to form a good rapport with any of them. Serendipitously, I have been preparing May’s edition of Sunny Days Magazine which focuses on Healthy Families (keep your eye out for it on the streets this week). In this issue Lara McEwen, the seven-year-old daughter of one our regular contributors, Jodie McEwen, had been asked to write for me a piece about her trip to the dentist. Her story is engaging and her experience sounded quite positive. I jumped on the phone to Jodie to congratulate her on her clever girl’s story and in the next breath I said, “And by the way - which dentist do you go to?” I was flabbergasted when Jodie said she attends the local free public dental clinic. Jodie could not speak highly enough of the service and the continuity of care Lara received. That was recommendation enough for me.

What I did not know is that all children under 18 in the Hunter New England area who still attend school or hold a concession card in their own right are eligible for free public oral health care. (Visit Kaleidoscope for more information) Admittedly I was concerned about the potential waiting list but, probably because of the urgent nature of Levi’s dental problem, I was able to get an appointment for tomorrow (Tuesday) - and I only rang on Friday! Knowing what I know now I am disappointed that I didn’t put Levi’s name on the list months ago when a wait would not have been a problem and may have negated the need for this emergency visit. I vow to take better preventative steps when it comes to my children’s dental health.

Every time I am the recipient of public health care in our region I am overwhelmed by the quality of the service. I know not everyone has had fabulous experiences in our stretched public health care system, but I have given birth to three children (including my stillborn daughter, Sienna, three years ago) and we have had the standard number of visits to the ER as is the case for most parents of young kids. I consider that I have received best practice care at each and every occasion. I acknowledge that my experience is but one in a multitude and also that there are myriad issues with public health care in this state. But I wonder if most of these are to do with government funding and the machinations of bureaucracy rather than the incredible women and men who staff our public health care system. I want to give a shout-out to them because they don’t often get one.

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The people of Newcastle, The Hunter and the Central Coast are no strangers to natural disaster - floods, storms and an earthquake have all rocked our regions with the loss of lives and property. So it is with a sense of kinship that many of us have reached out to the people of Victoria who have been affected - and continue to be affected - by this year's bushfires.

There comes a point after a tragedy when words are superfluous. With this in mind I acknowledge the disaster with the words of someone who said it so much better than I ever could. At the National Day of Mourning for Victoria's Bushfires the Victorian Leader of the Opposition, Ted Baillieu, delivered the following address. Poetic and mournful it hit the mark perfectly.

 

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My son, Levi, is in Year 1 this year. He's an old hand at the whole school caper so I tend to flick over the 'Back-to-School' stories in the media at this time of year. I no longer have a use for the ones asking, Is Your Child Ready For School or for the 101 Lunchbox Treats to Tempt Your Kindy Kid (they never seem to work for my fussy boy anyway whose latest lunch fad is a couple of dry weetbix). But a couple of years ago I was begging for an article titled Left Behind: Handy Hints for Helping Your Toddler Adjust When their Sibling Starts School.

Levi was inconsolable when the Big School took his sister away. I remember him wandering through the house when Indiana was at school, quite bereft. He even refused to jump on the trampoline or play in the sandpit alone. And I found I was poorly equipped to deal with a little guy who had just lost his lifelong companion. I had an odd regression to the feelings I experienced when I was ‘home alone’ with my firstborn, Indiana, before Levi came along – watching the clock while wondering how to fill the hours, dragging out finger-paints and Play-Doh ad nauseum. I tried such “stimulating activities” with Levi during his ‘home alone’ period but for him these things had always been shared with Indiana and I was a rather disappointing substitute. I didn’t know that the blue and red splodge was supposed to be Spiderman.

I think the highlight for both Levi and I was when 2.30 rolled around and we rushed up to the school. His joy at seeing his sister was palpable and the minute they walked in the door at home it was straight onto the trampoline, into the sandpit, out with the paints, in the bedroom with the action figures – at last, a proper playmate.

It was really only in the last six months at home that Levi became more independent in his play. He still wouldn’t venture onto the trampoline alone though, so at least I had a cardio workout every second day. But he was able to occupy himself for periods of time and no longer moped disconsolately around the house. Neither did I.

In fact, I now miss the little guy - and his big sister -  when they are at school. I really am ‘home alone’.

So this February, spare a thought for the tiny tots who may be ‘home alone’ for the first time in their lives. It’s a big change for them (and their carers) too.

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It's been a busy week with many of our little ones now back at school, pre-school and child-care. My two kids returned to school on Wednesday and this year I was well and truly organised. Many days in advance I had ironed the uniforms, the new schoolbags were full of lovely new colouring pencils and the new lunchboxes were well stocked. I even cooked cupcakes with my daughter Indy as a special back-to-school treat.

On Wednesday morning I had everything timed to the minute. I would get up at 6am so that I could wash my hair then, in my towel turban I would get the kids up, fed and dressed and let them watch TV for the last ten minutes while I blow-dried my hair. All went according to plan. Indy and Levi woke, full of excitement - they both love school - and did exactly as I asked. (I hope that's going to set a precedent for the rest of the year but somehow I doubt it.) Once I was sure that shirts were tucked in and shoes laced I headed into the bathroom to do my make-up and dry my hair. I don't know what made me think of the day but I shrieked to the kids, "Aggghhh! It's sports day!" A quick phone call to another mum confirmed my worst fears - I would now have to iron the sports uniforms (yes, they had hung, unironed since last year - I'm no Supermum) and help the kids get undressed and dressed again. Needless to say my hair was a frizzy mess all day - but at least I had spared my kids the indignity of arriving at school in the wrong uniform.

However, yesterday indignity was my own best friend. I had worn a shortish skirt to work, not too short but with a nice fluid flare at the hem. As I did the school run I felt peppy and cool in my summery outfit. I leaned over the school gate to call to my son and, wouldn't you know it, a large gust of wind came and blew the back of said skirt up. It folded over on itself so that it was difficult to pull back down. Time seemed to stop as I stood with my knickers on display to whoever happened to be passing by - which, when you are talking about 3pm in front of a school on the second day back, is quite a lot, actually. Having no idea how to handle the situation I merely put my sunglasses on, grabbed the kids and pretended everything was fabulous.

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On Saturday night, my husband, Luke, and I took the kids to the free session of Cinema Under The Stars in King Edward Park. We are long time fans of this event which is presented by The Newcastle Permanent in partnership with Newcastle City Council's Live Sites. A few years ago when our kids were much smaller we saw Monsters Inc. Last year the big hit Ratatouille was screening so we joined with some friends and went along. When my son Levi heard that one of the films on this year's programme was a big favourite of his - the mesmerising Wall-E - he insisted we go again.

I am a huge fan of big screen movies - I love the chance to escape to another world as well as the opportunity to bathe in the aesthetic and sensual cinematic experience. For some reason this seems to be heightened when watching films in the open air. Sitting in King Edward Park as the sun went down and the stars came out, we enjoyed our picnic of fresh potato salad, crusty rolls, tatziki dip and, of course, chocolate.

This year we were early birds - mainly because I mis-read the program, not because I am super-organised - so we got a great spot right at the front. From here we watched as the park filled with thousands of local families - each bringing their own unique lifestyle to the park. There was the couple with their four or five-year old daughter. Mum and Dad had chairs on each side while their little one was tucked between them on a bean bag. This family had the most amazing portable low table upon which was set their fabulous dinner - the aroma of warm chicken which wafted over our way was simply divine. Then there was the couple to the other side of us who had a little boy with possibly the most engaging smile I have ever seen on a child. This munchkin was so unbearably cute and he happily played with the little girl belonging to the family behind him.

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My best friend and I agree that the most fabulous days of summer are Christmas Eve, Boxing Day and New Year's Day. Christmas Eve is full of the exquisite sweetness of anticipation, while both Boxing Day and New Year's Day have that languorous chill-out factor which follows the big party.

I spent New Year's Day with my bestest buddy and, while the kids swam and compared Christmas presents, we lazily splashed around and indulged in lots of chat. Too often during the year our conversations are interrupted by the demands of work and family. My personal favourite is the child yelling from another room with an 'urgent' (though not) request while you are on the phone. My sister's line to her kids is, "See this thing attached to my ear? It's a phone. Can you please wait until I am done and then I will help you."

So this New Year's Day was special as my friend and I had hours of the non-guilty pleasure of catching up with one another.We chatted about the kids - how tall they are growing, how gorgeous, how good, how clever. We laughed about our Christmas adventures - her as a super-organised shopper; me as a last-minute whirlwind. We gossiped about Hollywood stars and whether we should use the precious offer of grandparent babysitting to go see Baz Luhrmann's latest flick, or to glam it up at the races. We even delved a little into our plans for 2009 - I'd love another baby but I'd mainly like our renovations to be finished. She wondered if she will ever feel able to let her adored three-year-old daughter have a sleepover with her cousins - as my two kids had been lucky enough to do after Christmas. Overall just another day in parenting paradise. But we both knew that it was a summery window in what will soon become our busy day-to-day lives as working mums. Of course there is no other kind of mum (or dad!)

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