South Bank

Being Normal

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I am in the ocean. A wave will approach and I can see it approach and I can feel the inevitability of its arrival, the crash as it breaks over me, the busyness of the swirling water, the pull as it returns to the ocean only to be replaced by another after a brief spell of calm. It is glorious, delightful, exhausting. When the sand beneath my feet starts to crumble things begin to be unsteady. Move too far away from the shore and there is zero respite from the energy required, no breaks even when there is no crashing wave because just to stay alive means staying on top of everything, treading water or clawing back to the surface. 

Floating is not an option.

This is parenthood, family life for us right now. There are things I would love to do but even getting everyone to the shops (a 10 minute walk) is momentous these days. And although I love love love this ocean, it is hard to contemplate swimming farther afield. Swimming farther afield involves carrying, to varying degrees, children. I was never great at towing people when lifesaving.

A few weeks ago, Glenn applied for a few days off work. We could go on a holiday! Take the girls to the Gold Coast and let the younger two experience the beach for the first time! Or, ok, maybe not as far as the Gold Coast but maybe the Wynnum and Manly foreshore. Or, yeah, being more realistic, maybe South Bank? And its fake beach? Yeah. 

In the end, while feeling like it may involve a mammoth amount of organisation, I didn’t prep anything at all beforehand. No hours the night before prepping snacks, nappy bag, towels, sunscreen, spare clothes, hats, drinks. We managed to do all of that in the morning – and still leave in the morning. Amazing.

When there, we were part of a crowd. Not so much of a crowd that it was unbearable, more like the size of crowd that makes you feel like you are part of the story, some of a whole lot of people doing the same thing at the same time at the same place. A family outing to South Bank on a hot and humid and sunny Sunday summer morning, for some beach time and water experience and ice cream. It felt like we were being … normal.

Did the girls enjoy themselves? Oh. My. Goodness. Did they ever. 

C knew what was coming and was excited in anticipation then just loving, absolutely loving, the whole experience of beach with sand and water and splashing and water and playing and water, then crazy fountains with unpredictable water, then ice cream, ICE CREAM!!! She was allowed to have rainbow ice cream, with sprinkles, in a cone, and what’s this? You can eat the cone? And it’s delicious?! Wow! 

E had no idea what hit her. A first beach experience. She must have thought this was the greatest bath ever. The screams of anguish as I pulled her out and dragged her over the hot sand onto the hot path were nixed when we arrived at the crazy fountains. The rollercoaster of emotions is such a toddler thing. Total and utter delight when the water worked. Total and utter sorrow when the water stopped. Repeat. Then, annoyance at being contained in the pram again but ooh what’s this? Rainbow ice cream in a cup? With sprinkles? I will eat three mouthfuls. That is all. Thank you but no more. 

S was very much S. Fell asleep just before we arrived at the beach, so… no beach for her. Woke when we were at the fountains. Stayed very chill. I held her for a bit and she checked out the trees and the water… and the trees again… (I’m not sure if it’s a normal third child thing, but I didn’t take any – ANY – photos of her. At all. Thankfully, Glenn took some of me holding her. )

Did our girls sleep well that night? Er…. No. I thought C would be worn out, thoroughly exhausted, but still she didn’t sleep until around 8:30. E missed her nap so actually fell asleep in her high chair after dinner, stayed asleep as I picked her out and changed her nappy and put her in pyjamas and got her into the cot but then she was coughing and coughing and waking frequently until after 10pm.

Did we find it hard? Yes and no. It was in some ways, mostly because it was new and different and uncharted territory for us, but we also just got in and did it. No major disasters, or anything crucial left behind at either end, or inexplicable tantrums, or injuries or disappearances or even sunburn. In the post-outing rundown, it seems we did ok.

Did we feel proud of ourselves? Why yes. Yes we did. Our first big family outing, purely for pleasure, to a busy place with lots of people and two potential runners. And, most of all, we made our way to a different spot in our ocean. It was tough, it was different, it required both of us being totally switched on and on board, but it was also really satisfying. We did something that families DO. We made memories. We took fantastic photos. We got out of our comfort zone. Still glorious and delightful and exhausting but so, so worthwhile. 

In Praise of the Starlight Room

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Tuesday was huge: E was due for a checkup at the hospital. I love the Queensland Children’s Hospital. I mean, I’d rather not have to go there ever again, but as we have had to go and will continue to need to go, I love it.

Not just for its proximity, or the quality of staff, or the abundance of volunteers ready to help you out at the first furrowed brow of confusion or eyes glazed in shock.

My favourite thing about the QCH is the Starlight Room. Without it, our trips to the hospital would be diabolical. 

This is a room that recognises that children still need to play. That they need to have the normality of toys, of a big window to see the world, a room with lady birds and bumble bees to ride on, and shopping trolleys to push and pretend to play shops with, and cars and dolls and hula hoops, and tables with craft and colouring in and drawing.

This is a room that recognises that children need a break from hospital beds and hospital staff and the gravity of a situation that lands a child in hospital. A room that recognises that not all children at the hospital are patients, and siblings need just as much care and attention. 

This is a room that recognises that parents need a break, or time to focus on the child who is the patient and not worry about where any other child is and if it’s bad that they’re plugged into a tablet or trying to play with all the cords they can see.

This is a room that recognises that there’s a lot of waiting at hospitals. And although you may *know* that there’s the possibility of a 2-3 hour wait for the appointment, no one ever thinks it will really take that long so only prepares a trip for a 9-month-old and a 3-and-a-half-year-old involving maybe a half hour wait. Helloooooo, Starlight Room.

I admit, several times throughout this year I have used the Starlight Room as an incentive. C needs to be well in order to be allowed in, so a good sleep is in order. Even if I’m pushing for that sleep to happen a few months in advance. You can’t convince us you need to stay home from daycare then be expected to have a visit to the Starlight Room.

Tuesday was a bit different. Instead of me saying we’re off to the hospital and C responding with ‘yay that means I go to Starlight Room!’ this time she wasn’t so sure. A bit nervous. We reassured her that she didn’t have to go, she could stay with us in the waiting area. And she did, for a bit. She sat on my lap and we read stories while Glenn walked E around. But after about 30 minutes of this she said maybe she’d changed her mind. Ugh.

So I checked with the receptionist who was really sorry about the wait until I told her this was perfect. With the promise of a phone call when E’s time was approaching, off we went to the Starlight Room. Instead of leaving her be as we have in the past, this time we stayed with C a bit. A relaxing sit as E looked at all these other children and had some lunch. An interesting experience watching C playing in this kind of environment, needing to share with other children who maybe don’t have the social skills she has, but also in an environment in which all children are a little or a lot not their usual self. I let E have a little wander and she enjoyed the bumble bee (well, eating the little knob that is a handle) then crawling on a new surface, and finally some sensory play. 

By the time we decided we needed to go back downstairs to see how much longer we may need to wait (it was now past her nap time and E gets *cranky*), C was definitely settled in. I tried to tell her we were going and I think she heard me but she was wearing a tiara with a veil and trying to get a remote control car to work so there was little response. And I’m pretty sure the only reason she came with us when we collected her later was the promise of pizza. Win.

I’m thinking we need to make a donation to the Starlight Foundation. The amount of craft that we have around our place from her various visits – a ‘cake’, a collage, a feathery jellyfish creation – is one thing (and so much appreciated by our craft-loving girl), but the very existence of this oasis in the hospital is so very wonderful. It has made our hospital trips and our life so, so much easier.