rant – Grateful Grumbles

July 13, 2019July 16, 2019

Our Blatant Invisible Luxuries

They’ve done it. The third time is the charm. Twice my desperate pleas of, “I’m sleeping. Shut my door,” worked. “Pleeeeeease!” I add and pull the duvet up higher. It feels early, but it’s not — not in this house anyway.

I roll off the bed and take the almost giggling baby with me. She loves mornings, she loves the super high-pitched squealing declarations of love from her sisters too. Goodness, that’s high-pitched. I need coffee.

I power up the espresso maker. It stubbornly beeps at me, a reminder that I forgot to empty the grounds, yesterday. It needs water too. A petulant thing — I’d complain, but then again I’d give her anything and she knows it. Satisfied, she pours a double espresso, extra long, just right.

I release the dogs from their kennels downstairs and prepare their medicines. That’s right, they’re both taking medicine now, for the rest of their lives. We probably should have better timed getting dogs, so they weren’t both seniors at the same time.

I prepare breakfast for us all. We all want different things. Not a problem, the espresso has kicked in.

And then the poo. She warned me, by pushing and grunting. I bring her to the change table, and lie her down. I remove her diaper and carefully peel off her jammies. There’s poo in her armpit, well that won’t do. I run a bath.

Her sisters crowd around as I lather her up. She laughs and kicks her legs under the heavy wash cloth. Sufficiently clean, I lift her from the tub. She looks unimpressed to be leaving the warmth of the water. The towel I had neatly laid out on my bed is now balled up on the floor. “Thanks,” I mumble to nobody.

I rinse off her poo-logged jammy in our oversized sink, I spray on too much stain remover and place them into the washing machine. Before I press start, I gather the remaining laundry from the various places it has been strewn about the house, tucked into the couch and hidden under beds. I’ll repeat the same circuit later, scouring for dirty dishes and random toys.

The weather looks iffy and I can’t stand the thought of being indoors all day. It’s time to get to the park. They need a snack. Crackers and cheese strings will have to cut it.

The baby falls asleep on the six minute car ride there. I buckle up the baby carrier while making small talk with a couple in the parking lot. They lower a ramp out of their car for their Rottweiler, who very happily makes her way out of the vehicle. My kids are equally as happy as they make their way out of mine. The baby stays asleep, snuggled against my chest as her sisters chase down bunnies wildly waving their carrots in the air. “Go slooooowly!” I whisper.

We walk through the park, greeting everyone with a genuinely hearty, “good morning!” (I may have had a second espresso). They echo our sentiments, everyone is happy to be out here.

We stop a few times to throw rocks in a pond, attempt to climb a very large rock and to watch ants scurrying around.

While my kids play at the sandbox amongst the once loved, now abandoned, toys I contemplate this short morning, a typical one, mundane even (in the most beautiful way), I’m lucky.

I can’t help but think that of course they’re coming. Of course people want their children to experience even the smallest luxuries we all take completely for granted. Safety at the most basic level, enough food and shelter. Even my inconveniences are convenient — blatant invisible luxuries.

I did nothing to deserve this. Nothing. And yet here I am, completely complacent.

I’ll likely never have to risk dehydration and starvation crossing deserts. I’ll likely never need to brave the ocean waters with a child on my back. I’ll likely never need to cross borders to keep my family safe.

But I would. If it meant that my children for just one morning could run freely through fields, throwing rocks into ponds, attempting to climb impossible rocks or watching ants scurrying on the ground, not a care in the world, I would do it. I would.

September 20, 2018April 24, 2019

Fortunate Circumstance

As I lie in the dark, listening to the rain pouring down outside, I sink further into the warmth of my bed, pull the covers up, shut my eyes and reflect on my day. I had taken my two daughters on a walk through the park. I watched as they excitedly chased birds in an open field, in the distance children pulled at a branch of an apple tree, they cheered as an abundance of fruit rolled down the hill. People walked their dogs along pristine paths, lined with beautiful gardens, and a helicopter flew overhead.

Never once was I concerned for our safety, never once did anyone look at me as though I didn’t belong there. My children wore clothing adequate for the cool temperature and light rain, they snacked on oversized buns, too big to even finish in one attempt. As I soak up their smiles with my memory, I know that we are lucky. For all of the things that I take for granted, I am lucky.

Out of all the countries in this world, out of all the families in this world, out of all the times the world has seen, out of all of the bodies in this world, I am so lucky to have been born here and now. I recognize that life could have, just as easily, been very different and for that, I have to acknowledge that I am lucky.

I have a family who loves and supports me. My parents provided me with a safe and nurturing home. They encouraged me to take chances and were there for me whenever I needed it. They continue to be a valuable part of my life. My husband and I are now able to provide our children with the same beginnings. I am lucky.

I am physically and mentally able to work. I work hard, but that is because I am able to. While I do endure some physical limitation in the form of rheumatoid arthritis, free access to good medicine has helped me to live my life with very little restriction. At this time my children are also in good health. I am lucky.

I drink, cook with, and bathe in clean water. So many countries across the world, and even some communities within our own country do not have this access, spending valuable time and energy sourcing out something so basic as safe water. I am lucky.

I eat nutritious food, and have a pantry full of it. As a child we didn’t have much money for extras, but I never feared hunger. My children have never wondered where their next meal was coming from. I am lucky.

I am able to access free medical care, in my own community, whenever I need it for myself and my children. Never have I had to weigh the balance of my bank account against the concerns of my health. Never have I had to hike for miles only to find out the help I was seeking was unavailable. I am lucky.

I attended public school and later government subsidized university. I had teachers passionate about the subjects they taught and I felt safe while attending. I was able to live at home while attending high school and university. I drove an old but mostly reliable car and when I couldn’t afford to fix it, my parents helped. I am lucky.

I have never been on the receiving end of racist jokes, comments or actions. I have never been told I am worthless. I have never been made to feel unwanted. I have never feared for my safety when dealing with the police. My profile has always worked in my favour. I am lucky.

Everything I am stems from circumstances completely outside of my control.

Sometimes, when considering the circumstances of others we forget just how much of our own circumstances depend on luck. We have worked hard, but the opportunity to do so depends so much on the things we have had no control over.

So when our country offers refuge to people in need of safety, I am happy, because they might get to experience the safety I so often take for granted now. The very real possibility of their limbs being severed from their bodies, their children raped and burned alive in their homes fade into only nightmares as they become a part of a country that cares for physical health and safety.

When our country deems it necessary to send a sizeable donation to countries in need of relief, I am happy, because for just a second they get to breathe a sigh of relief, knowing their children can sleep for one night with a full belly.

When our country offers welfare to individuals and families in need within our own country, I am happy because their basic needs have been met. When our country makes promises to care for our most vulnerable populations I am hopeful, that they may one day take for granted some of the things I have taken for granted my whole life.

So often compassion arbitrarily stops at a border, as if a person’s worth, health and safety ought to be determined by their place of birth, the colour of their skin, their income level or their physical or mental wellness. People fear advances for others as if their small step forward is an infringement on the luxuries we did nothing to deserve and feel so entitled to, but why?

Canada has taken care of me for thirty-four years, only five of those, have I contributed any significant amount towards taxes. I enjoyed medical luxuries beginning with my own cesarean birth, very expensive medications, I attended public school and worked part time while I attended subsidized university, I have had three c-sections, taken two maternity leaves and plan to take another. Never have I been deemed unworthy, and why?

So as I listen to the rain drumming down on the roof, surrounded by so many luxuries, carelessly strewn about, it is overwhelming acknowledging just how much I have especially when faced with the sharp contrast of the lives of others. I am grateful, but I know that I am lucky. In so many ways, I am lucky.