i wish i didn't have diabetes. that i didn't have to come across as an OCD type person. adding and subtracting and fine tuning numbers and bg and what i ate. wish i could just be casual bout everything. eat this, eat that, work out at this time, sleep in till this time. but i can't. my life is ruled by the clock and my blood sugars.
this poses many problems. im actually wondering whether i can stay in the job where im at. i mean, im on my feet for 8 - 9 hours, cutting meat, serving customers, filling the counter, etc. This is quite physical work and a person needs to consume quite a few carbs to do this job. some of my coworkers will eat an entire McDonald's meal or 12-inch sub. that'll last them about 4 hours.
with carbs such an essential part to this job i wonder if now is the time that i should be considering switching jobs. perhaps a desk job would be a better option? i mean that can come with its problems too: little access to food (incase my bg is low and I need to eat), deadlines to finish projects, power structure, etc.
there is no perfect work place and im a strong believer in "it's what you make of it".
i've said before that i love blue-collar type work: carpentry, landscaping, meat cutting, etc. but when my bg is good i really enjoy sitting, studying, reading, writing too. all those things that i can't seem to concentrate on when my bg is high.
as my bg stabilizes over the next couple of weeks as i work out this new low-carb regime, i wonder if i am still going to be well suited for the job in which i work?
if not i will have to leave as my health is important. i need to give it the credit it deserves. i dont want to go blind, suffer kidney failure, and endure life without my toes/feet/legs.
(diabetics, as a result of poor bg control, often have circulation problems. these problems strike hardest in the feet where circulation requires more effort. if blood vessels are damaged due to high blood sugars the blood does not circulate as well. think of sitting water as opposed to running water. the sitting water that you see on those WorldVision ads. would you rather drink/wash in that or in a running stream? standing/sitting blood, like water, is similar. and when your circulation is weak you can suffer big time infection. gangrene sets in and yeah, its not pretty. thus the reason for the amputations among the diabetic population.)
anyways. i will try my plan out today. if i have to eat carbs i will. i won't be one of those anti-carb fanatics. carbs are good for you. they provide you with energy. carbs are harmful to you when you're body is not using them. if you have a desk job you want a low-carb diet. if you do a lot of exercise/physical activity you want to consume an APPROPRIATE amount of carbohydrates. avg. 150 / person / day. to give you an idea, a banana is 20 CHO, a piece of bread is 15 - 20 CHO.
anyways. thats it for now. take care.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
diabetes notebook: low-carb day
low-carb day. also happens to be election day in the US. will leave that till later.
breakfast this morning: 2 eggs, 1/2 cup V-8, carrots. 9 a.m.
11 a.m. feeling pretty good. bg is 6.9 mmol/L. right on target. diabetics should aim for 5 - 10 mmol/L. non-diabetics are 4 - 7 mmol/L.
wondering what to eat. at a crossroads. 15 NPH taken this morning. peaking. will eat max. 40 CHO. mixed with veggies and meat this should be sufficient.
work at 2 pm so I have to take that into consideration. have to build up a bit of a reserve. dont want to start work low/high. want to start work with bg at 5 - 10 mmol/L, with belly full and feeling energetic.
will update as to how this works later.
breakfast this morning: 2 eggs, 1/2 cup V-8, carrots. 9 a.m.
11 a.m. feeling pretty good. bg is 6.9 mmol/L. right on target. diabetics should aim for 5 - 10 mmol/L. non-diabetics are 4 - 7 mmol/L.
wondering what to eat. at a crossroads. 15 NPH taken this morning. peaking. will eat max. 40 CHO. mixed with veggies and meat this should be sufficient.
work at 2 pm so I have to take that into consideration. have to build up a bit of a reserve. dont want to start work low/high. want to start work with bg at 5 - 10 mmol/L, with belly full and feeling energetic.
will update as to how this works later.
LIGHTS
A great new artist. One of my new favourites, although there's really only one song of hers that I listen to. Check it out:
http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=ltCvOztda3I&NR=1
The video might be considered a little lame by some. I don't mind it.
It's slowly breaking into the Top 20 and playing on the radio more often (which is where I first heard it).
She's a Toronto gal. Nice to see Canadian artists out there doing well.
http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=ltCvOztda3I&NR=1
The video might be considered a little lame by some. I don't mind it.
It's slowly breaking into the Top 20 and playing on the radio more often (which is where I first heard it).
She's a Toronto gal. Nice to see Canadian artists out there doing well.
Diabetes Downer
Well I'm at that point again (comes around every month or so) where I've decided to start taking serious action with respect to my diabetes management. I have to get better control of my blood sugars. I'm tired of them being up. Normal is between 4 - 7 mmol/L (Canada, Europe) and I often find myself 10 - 14.
I have to make this a priority. Even quit my job if necessary. My health is the most important thing. Let me repeat that for everyone: your health is the most important thing. Take care of yourself.
I've decided to start blogging a little more on my diabetes as it helps me sort of keep track of what I'm doing.
So today, is Day 1 of the low carb diet. I've tried this before and it worked quite well. Lots of vegetables, plenty of meat, and when I do eat carbs they should be "complex carbs". In other words foods that take a while to break down: pasta, potatoes and whole wheat bread are the best.
moderate exercise. I can't box for more than an hour as it will require me to eat too many carbs. Carbs that will be stored away while I'm exercising, but carbs that will be released a half hour after I stop.
Alright. So this is Day 1. I'll get back to y'all tonight.
I have to make this a priority. Even quit my job if necessary. My health is the most important thing. Let me repeat that for everyone: your health is the most important thing. Take care of yourself.
I've decided to start blogging a little more on my diabetes as it helps me sort of keep track of what I'm doing.
So today, is Day 1 of the low carb diet. I've tried this before and it worked quite well. Lots of vegetables, plenty of meat, and when I do eat carbs they should be "complex carbs". In other words foods that take a while to break down: pasta, potatoes and whole wheat bread are the best.
moderate exercise. I can't box for more than an hour as it will require me to eat too many carbs. Carbs that will be stored away while I'm exercising, but carbs that will be released a half hour after I stop.
Alright. So this is Day 1. I'll get back to y'all tonight.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Ebay Item
My girlfriend and I found this amazing wine flask at Value Village this evening. Have a look. Make a bid too if you like.
http://cgi.ebay.ca/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=120328645621
http://cgi.ebay.ca/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=120328645621
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Volunteer Work And Its Challenges
I don't blame people for not volunteering these days. In fact, it would seem that these days, for anyone to go out of their way, is to invite trouble. Person A can't pull over to the side of the road to help Person B with their broken down vehicle as Person B might think that Person A is pulling over to cause them harm. (case in Detroit). Man A can't do this because Woman A might think that. I'm having trouble coming up with some concrete examples, but essentially what I'm saying is that a lot of us CANNOT, even if we wanted to, go out of our way, for fear of trouble or false accusation when trying to help someone with something.
Stories of false accusation and the wrongfully convicted (I try so hard not to read them so as to avoid worrying) seem fairly common, too common, that we almost just want to retreat into our little cocoons and only associate with people we know on a first-hand basis. We are suspicious of one another.
I volunteer with the Big Brother Big Sister Association. What if I was ever falsely accused of having done something inappropriate while in the company of my little "brother"?
"Well, just tell the truth and you'll be fine," some say. Not necessarily so. From the infamous Klassen family case (Martensville, Saskatchewan) where two well-meaning foster parents took in three parent-less children, one of which accused the parents of committing various barbaric acts. If you ever read the testimonies or quotations from the case, you will see that some of the things that the couple were accused of would be better attributed to some outlandish, Hollywood, sci-fi movie involving vampires. Seriously. Read the case. Ridiculous stuff. And the worst part of the whole thing was the practical COACHING that the police and crown prosecution allegedly gave the children when taking their testimonies. Grown men and women, urging 7 and 8 year old kids to tell them more! more! about the blood drinking and satanic sexual practices that the foster parents engaged them in.
In the end it turned out that the parents had done NOTHING. That instead, it was the boy (there was a boy and two girls - either step brothers/sisters or blood brothers/sisters, I forget which) that was found to have not only been physically and sexually abusing his two sisters (it was not the parents but the boy himself!) but and threatening them and coercing them to go along with his story because he was angry with the foster parents and wanted to get back at them.
Now we have another story where we see "professionals" pursuing these cases to the end of the Earth, badgering and bullying the parents, and making more out of a "story" than is needed.
Please. Law enforcement, social workers. Catch the real bad guys: the johns, the pimps, the sex tourists, the internet predators. Get THESE people! Not the (foster) parents, Big Brothers/Big Sisters and care workers of the world.
Yes sometimes people volunteer for these organizations to be closer to the vulnerable, their prey. But the likelihood of these volunteers and well-meaning citizens committing such heinous acts is FAR lesser than the 30/40/50 year old male who doesn't volunteer. Doesn't volunteer because he is too busy sitting in front of the computer, too sick and selfish too be generous and giving of his time to such noble causes. Catch and put THESE sickos away. I was told that in the entire history of the BigBrotherBigSister Association in Canada, that there had only been ONE incident where the Big Brother/Sister was abusing the little brother.
I want to be able to volunteer, to not fear for my own safety. It's hard when we see cases such as the Richard Klassen case and this one, published in the Guardian the other day. Until the day when law enforcement and social workers focus their attention to the real perpetrators we volunteers will simply have to take care of ourselves. For that reason I remain in public at all times with my little brother. It is the same reason that teachers in elementary schools will leave their doors open. It's too bad that this is the reality as it makes people ask whether volunteering is not worth all the hassle. The police/background checks, references, 500 question-personality tests, etc. 50 years ago you could just walk right up and volunteer. Take a kid to the ball game. Help that lady out at the side of the road. These days no.
from THE GUARDIAN (UK newspaper; reference at bottom)
The only single mum in the village
Ruth Green and her two young sons moved to the country without a man in tow - and soon found themselves at the centre of a child abuse investigation
• Ruth Green
• The Guardian,
• Friday October 31 2008
• Article history
It starts with a torn-off sheet of A4 paper through the door, asking me to phone the local Child Abuse Investigation Unit. It looks so unofficial. It isn't. There has been an incident involving my seven-year-old son, Sam, that is a serious cause for concern. Within minutes I am talking on the phone to the police officer who had called at my house. Is there somebody known to my children as "uncle Mark", she wants to know and, if so, who is he?
Uncle Mark is my brother. He is a teacher at a London comprehensive. They want to know the school's address, how long he has worked there, the year he qualified. Has he ever taken my son on a walk on his own? No, Mark hates walks. Besides, he lives so far away that the children only ever visit him with me. There would be no occasion for them to be on their own with him.
My son has said that this uncle is really funny. He's so funny, in fact, he pulls down his trousers and makes wee-wee shoot out of his willy. Do I agree that is an extraordinary thing for a child to say? Yes. And no. Children think it is funny to say "willy" and "wee-wee". They are quite likely to make up what they think is a funny joke. If it described a real incident, which I am already sure it doesn't, it might be worrying. Or not. A boy and a man might go into a hedge together for a wee. And Sam is unpredictable. He had a stroke within hours of birth and, although he looks and sounds normal for his age, his development has been uneven. He has to have each situation explained and learn by heart how to respond. We have just moved house, and he may be reacting inappropriately to new people.
Sam's story was not a lie, but an embellishment of something that had happened at a recent family party. The cousins were chasing each other around trying to grab underwear, and when they threatened to make the grown-ups join in, Mark had stopped them in their tracks by showing half of one buttock and telling them the game was over.
The person Sam told his "funny story" to had gone on to ask him, "Did your uncle Mark take down your trousers?" He replied, "Oh no, I had my pants on." This is worrying, says the police officer. It suggests that when he has no pants on ... I am angry that anyone asked my son such a question.
The officer wants to know who was in the room at the time. My mother, me, Sam, some of the cousins, but I don't know which. My sister was at the party and her husband, and his sister, but they could have been in the garden or kitchen. The officer writes down their details. Can I confirm where my son was in the room? Behind my brother or in front? I can hear her pen scratching. I imagine she is making a map. She says she will call back later in the day to let me know if the children will be needed to make video interviews. The police may have to go to my brother's house.
I call Mark at work to tell him what has been reported. There's a long silence. He says, "I've got year 9 history. I've got to go back to class." We both know that if any suspicions go on record, he will never have year 9 history again, or any job at all, or access to his daughters.
Later in the afternoon the police call back to say that they are dropping the criminal case, because the "incident" had witnesses. Social services will, however, contact me, and may decide to pursue the case. I imagine that as one set of professionals has called it off, it will be simple to reassure the others, but it isn't. The social worker calls minutes later. She thinks my son's "disclosure" is still unexplained and seriously alarming. She wants to visit our home and interview Sam and his younger brother Jake, four.
On the way back from school I tell the children that they will be going in late next morning because someone wants to talk to them. I say this person's job is to find out about children's lives and it's very important they tell the truth. Jake says, "I know, let's tell lies!" They laugh. My heart sinks.
I put the children to bed and call my ex-husband. He's appalled. Why let them put our children through the ordeal? What could they do if we said no? I call the police number to ask advice, and the duty officer says I would be within my rights to say no to the interview, but the case would remain open.
I remember then that an old friend used to work in child protection, and call him. He explains that just because the evidence is not enough for a trial, social services still need to meet the children and get reports from their school and doctor. What if I refuse? That would make them suspicious. They might put a plan in place to protect the children, akin to what used to be called the "at risk" register.
I decide to go ahead. When the social worker arrives, I ask a few questions. Am I allowed to know who reported us? Yes, it was the person who runs the Sunday school. The school has been involved because, as we are new to the village, no one at church is sure of our full names. My friends had warned me about moving to the country. I remember the jokes about being "the only single mother in the village". They are not so funny now.
She has some questions too. How long have I been divorced? How was custody agreed? Are there any health concerns for the children? I explain Sam's history and stress the good progress he has made. Have there been any concerns about their progress at school? Sam has some learning difficulties - that's why we've moved house, so he can go to a school with a special unit. I would prefer not to say this. Problems with learning - like anomalies in development - can be a sign of abuse. But she will find out anyway.
I notice the sheet of paper on the kitchen table where Sam has been making a Christmas list. He's not very good at writing. The "dog set" he has written in purple felt tip reads like "god sex". Has she seen it?
Jake rolls around on the floor with his toy animals and, when asked who is in his family, lists the pets. The children have to name everyone who lives in the house. Then elsewhere. The first person in that category is their favourite, "uncle Mark". Jake says, "He's a cheeky man. When we went to a party at his house he showed his bottom. And that is the truth!" Sam dutifully lists all his uncles and aunts. Anyone else? "There's Tilly," says Jake. "She's our step-sister." The social worker shoots a look in my direction, a split-second of what looks like such triumphant hatred that my stomach turns over. The mask has been lifted and it's enough to have glimpsed the suspicion beneath.
I now realise why she had to interview the children. They are not interested in my brother. They are trying to find out who the "real" culprit is, the one who has abused my children, leaving them so uncertain about the boundaries of truth and fiction that when their uncle "triggers" a sinister memory, it appears in muddled form.
They have not asked if I have a boyfriend, and I have not mentioned it. So I must be hiding him. And here is his daughter, blowing my cover. But it's a simple confusion of vocabulary. Tilly is their half-sister by their father's first marriage. "Her real name is Matilda and she lives at Cambridge University," says Sam. I confirm the details are accurate, but I can barely speak. The shock is making me feel sick.
At the door, I ask if it is over. Subject to the school and doctor's reports, yes. She says the children are lovely. I say I understand they have to follow these things up. "It's the word 'uncle' in the context of a single mother, isn't it?" I say. She nods and leaves.
I don't have a boyfriend or partner of any kind. But what if I did? Would he be under suspicion? Under arrest? No one wants to go out with single mothers and I don't blame them. Families with one parent are more vulnerable. In addition to the danger of step-parents and other less permanent partners (the statistics are clear on this one - they are dangerous) there is only one pair of eyes on duty at any one time. A trip to the beach is a major enterprise. I am jumpy and anxious, and overreact when there's no one to talk to.
Perhaps my children do need more protection than most. Perhaps it's natural that the finger of suspicion points to us. I'm sure the person who contacted the police meant well. But next time someone is worried about something one of the children says, I wish they would talk to me before they call social services. I might be able to reassure them. If I don't, they could still make the call. After all, it's a free country.
• Ruth Green is a pseudonym. All names have been changed.
• Do you have a story to tell about your life? Email it (no attachments, please) to my.story@guardian.co.uk. If possible, include a phone number.
[http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2008/oct/31/family-child-protection, accessed november 2, 2008.]
Stories of false accusation and the wrongfully convicted (I try so hard not to read them so as to avoid worrying) seem fairly common, too common, that we almost just want to retreat into our little cocoons and only associate with people we know on a first-hand basis. We are suspicious of one another.
I volunteer with the Big Brother Big Sister Association. What if I was ever falsely accused of having done something inappropriate while in the company of my little "brother"?
"Well, just tell the truth and you'll be fine," some say. Not necessarily so. From the infamous Klassen family case (Martensville, Saskatchewan) where two well-meaning foster parents took in three parent-less children, one of which accused the parents of committing various barbaric acts. If you ever read the testimonies or quotations from the case, you will see that some of the things that the couple were accused of would be better attributed to some outlandish, Hollywood, sci-fi movie involving vampires. Seriously. Read the case. Ridiculous stuff. And the worst part of the whole thing was the practical COACHING that the police and crown prosecution allegedly gave the children when taking their testimonies. Grown men and women, urging 7 and 8 year old kids to tell them more! more! about the blood drinking and satanic sexual practices that the foster parents engaged them in.
In the end it turned out that the parents had done NOTHING. That instead, it was the boy (there was a boy and two girls - either step brothers/sisters or blood brothers/sisters, I forget which) that was found to have not only been physically and sexually abusing his two sisters (it was not the parents but the boy himself!) but and threatening them and coercing them to go along with his story because he was angry with the foster parents and wanted to get back at them.
Now we have another story where we see "professionals" pursuing these cases to the end of the Earth, badgering and bullying the parents, and making more out of a "story" than is needed.
Please. Law enforcement, social workers. Catch the real bad guys: the johns, the pimps, the sex tourists, the internet predators. Get THESE people! Not the (foster) parents, Big Brothers/Big Sisters and care workers of the world.
Yes sometimes people volunteer for these organizations to be closer to the vulnerable, their prey. But the likelihood of these volunteers and well-meaning citizens committing such heinous acts is FAR lesser than the 30/40/50 year old male who doesn't volunteer. Doesn't volunteer because he is too busy sitting in front of the computer, too sick and selfish too be generous and giving of his time to such noble causes. Catch and put THESE sickos away. I was told that in the entire history of the BigBrotherBigSister Association in Canada, that there had only been ONE incident where the Big Brother/Sister was abusing the little brother.
I want to be able to volunteer, to not fear for my own safety. It's hard when we see cases such as the Richard Klassen case and this one, published in the Guardian the other day. Until the day when law enforcement and social workers focus their attention to the real perpetrators we volunteers will simply have to take care of ourselves. For that reason I remain in public at all times with my little brother. It is the same reason that teachers in elementary schools will leave their doors open. It's too bad that this is the reality as it makes people ask whether volunteering is not worth all the hassle. The police/background checks, references, 500 question-personality tests, etc. 50 years ago you could just walk right up and volunteer. Take a kid to the ball game. Help that lady out at the side of the road. These days no.
from THE GUARDIAN (UK newspaper; reference at bottom)
The only single mum in the village
Ruth Green and her two young sons moved to the country without a man in tow - and soon found themselves at the centre of a child abuse investigation
• Ruth Green
• The Guardian,
• Friday October 31 2008
• Article history
It starts with a torn-off sheet of A4 paper through the door, asking me to phone the local Child Abuse Investigation Unit. It looks so unofficial. It isn't. There has been an incident involving my seven-year-old son, Sam, that is a serious cause for concern. Within minutes I am talking on the phone to the police officer who had called at my house. Is there somebody known to my children as "uncle Mark", she wants to know and, if so, who is he?
Uncle Mark is my brother. He is a teacher at a London comprehensive. They want to know the school's address, how long he has worked there, the year he qualified. Has he ever taken my son on a walk on his own? No, Mark hates walks. Besides, he lives so far away that the children only ever visit him with me. There would be no occasion for them to be on their own with him.
My son has said that this uncle is really funny. He's so funny, in fact, he pulls down his trousers and makes wee-wee shoot out of his willy. Do I agree that is an extraordinary thing for a child to say? Yes. And no. Children think it is funny to say "willy" and "wee-wee". They are quite likely to make up what they think is a funny joke. If it described a real incident, which I am already sure it doesn't, it might be worrying. Or not. A boy and a man might go into a hedge together for a wee. And Sam is unpredictable. He had a stroke within hours of birth and, although he looks and sounds normal for his age, his development has been uneven. He has to have each situation explained and learn by heart how to respond. We have just moved house, and he may be reacting inappropriately to new people.
Sam's story was not a lie, but an embellishment of something that had happened at a recent family party. The cousins were chasing each other around trying to grab underwear, and when they threatened to make the grown-ups join in, Mark had stopped them in their tracks by showing half of one buttock and telling them the game was over.
The person Sam told his "funny story" to had gone on to ask him, "Did your uncle Mark take down your trousers?" He replied, "Oh no, I had my pants on." This is worrying, says the police officer. It suggests that when he has no pants on ... I am angry that anyone asked my son such a question.
The officer wants to know who was in the room at the time. My mother, me, Sam, some of the cousins, but I don't know which. My sister was at the party and her husband, and his sister, but they could have been in the garden or kitchen. The officer writes down their details. Can I confirm where my son was in the room? Behind my brother or in front? I can hear her pen scratching. I imagine she is making a map. She says she will call back later in the day to let me know if the children will be needed to make video interviews. The police may have to go to my brother's house.
I call Mark at work to tell him what has been reported. There's a long silence. He says, "I've got year 9 history. I've got to go back to class." We both know that if any suspicions go on record, he will never have year 9 history again, or any job at all, or access to his daughters.
Later in the afternoon the police call back to say that they are dropping the criminal case, because the "incident" had witnesses. Social services will, however, contact me, and may decide to pursue the case. I imagine that as one set of professionals has called it off, it will be simple to reassure the others, but it isn't. The social worker calls minutes later. She thinks my son's "disclosure" is still unexplained and seriously alarming. She wants to visit our home and interview Sam and his younger brother Jake, four.
On the way back from school I tell the children that they will be going in late next morning because someone wants to talk to them. I say this person's job is to find out about children's lives and it's very important they tell the truth. Jake says, "I know, let's tell lies!" They laugh. My heart sinks.
I put the children to bed and call my ex-husband. He's appalled. Why let them put our children through the ordeal? What could they do if we said no? I call the police number to ask advice, and the duty officer says I would be within my rights to say no to the interview, but the case would remain open.
I remember then that an old friend used to work in child protection, and call him. He explains that just because the evidence is not enough for a trial, social services still need to meet the children and get reports from their school and doctor. What if I refuse? That would make them suspicious. They might put a plan in place to protect the children, akin to what used to be called the "at risk" register.
I decide to go ahead. When the social worker arrives, I ask a few questions. Am I allowed to know who reported us? Yes, it was the person who runs the Sunday school. The school has been involved because, as we are new to the village, no one at church is sure of our full names. My friends had warned me about moving to the country. I remember the jokes about being "the only single mother in the village". They are not so funny now.
She has some questions too. How long have I been divorced? How was custody agreed? Are there any health concerns for the children? I explain Sam's history and stress the good progress he has made. Have there been any concerns about their progress at school? Sam has some learning difficulties - that's why we've moved house, so he can go to a school with a special unit. I would prefer not to say this. Problems with learning - like anomalies in development - can be a sign of abuse. But she will find out anyway.
I notice the sheet of paper on the kitchen table where Sam has been making a Christmas list. He's not very good at writing. The "dog set" he has written in purple felt tip reads like "god sex". Has she seen it?
Jake rolls around on the floor with his toy animals and, when asked who is in his family, lists the pets. The children have to name everyone who lives in the house. Then elsewhere. The first person in that category is their favourite, "uncle Mark". Jake says, "He's a cheeky man. When we went to a party at his house he showed his bottom. And that is the truth!" Sam dutifully lists all his uncles and aunts. Anyone else? "There's Tilly," says Jake. "She's our step-sister." The social worker shoots a look in my direction, a split-second of what looks like such triumphant hatred that my stomach turns over. The mask has been lifted and it's enough to have glimpsed the suspicion beneath.
I now realise why she had to interview the children. They are not interested in my brother. They are trying to find out who the "real" culprit is, the one who has abused my children, leaving them so uncertain about the boundaries of truth and fiction that when their uncle "triggers" a sinister memory, it appears in muddled form.
They have not asked if I have a boyfriend, and I have not mentioned it. So I must be hiding him. And here is his daughter, blowing my cover. But it's a simple confusion of vocabulary. Tilly is their half-sister by their father's first marriage. "Her real name is Matilda and she lives at Cambridge University," says Sam. I confirm the details are accurate, but I can barely speak. The shock is making me feel sick.
At the door, I ask if it is over. Subject to the school and doctor's reports, yes. She says the children are lovely. I say I understand they have to follow these things up. "It's the word 'uncle' in the context of a single mother, isn't it?" I say. She nods and leaves.
I don't have a boyfriend or partner of any kind. But what if I did? Would he be under suspicion? Under arrest? No one wants to go out with single mothers and I don't blame them. Families with one parent are more vulnerable. In addition to the danger of step-parents and other less permanent partners (the statistics are clear on this one - they are dangerous) there is only one pair of eyes on duty at any one time. A trip to the beach is a major enterprise. I am jumpy and anxious, and overreact when there's no one to talk to.
Perhaps my children do need more protection than most. Perhaps it's natural that the finger of suspicion points to us. I'm sure the person who contacted the police meant well. But next time someone is worried about something one of the children says, I wish they would talk to me before they call social services. I might be able to reassure them. If I don't, they could still make the call. After all, it's a free country.
• Ruth Green is a pseudonym. All names have been changed.
• Do you have a story to tell about your life? Email it (no attachments, please) to my.story@guardian.co.uk. If possible, include a phone number.
[http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2008/oct/31/family-child-protection, accessed november 2, 2008.]
The Polite Politician: An Oxymoron?
I am, perhaps to the disappointment of some, "withdrawing" from the CBC contest Canada's Next Great Prime Minister. Call me a whimp or whatever you will but I cannot bring myself to criticize/debate/point fingers like a politician.
There are reasons that the House of Commons during Question Period is often referred to as more of a "playground" than a place of business or politics. Politics, that word brings to my mind visions of a stressed out thirty/forty-something party aide, Blackberry in one hand, third cup of Timmy's in the other, dark circles around his eyes.
That profession that makes good people do bad things.
Indeed as Rousseau argued, man (and woman) is most moral when in nature, acting not out of ambition, greed, etc. but rather out of pure and simple instinct: I'm hungry, I will eat. I'm tired, I will sleep.
This is not to say that man/woman was more "good" or "pure" in nature, but rather that when they did fight it was out of natural instinct and not done for political gain or some other selfish benefit.
For example, in The Count of Monte Cristo, crown prosecutor Villefort has Edmond Dantes arrested for treason. The real reason Dantes was placed in jail? Because he had knowledge of potentially damning information, information about Villefort's father that could ruin his career.
Rousseau argued that such things would not happen in nature. In other words, Villefort and Dantes would only have fought in the circumstance where Dantes was trying to go for the same rabbit for his supper as Villefort. But this conflict/fight would thus arise naturally.
Politics is a dirty business. Backroom dealings, arguing and throwing the blame at others, criticizing people. Sounds a lot like a bunch of teenagers to be quite honest.
This stuff has permeated the CBC contest NGPM. One need only look at the forum and some of the debates/criticism going on. One candidate seems to have it out for everybody and is attacking other candidates' policies left and right. (pun intended)
I can't bring myself to engage in debates with these people. One reason, because they are simply never-ending. Everyone knows a person or persons who are impossibly stubborn and would argue that water boils at -5 degrees C if they had to. (no doubt some smartass person out there is going to comment on this and say that indeed, yes, water does boil at -5 degrees C under the following circumstances:...)
Je m'en fout! I don't care. I'm too polite to be a politician.
And the sad thing is that these people don't often know how to do a good day's work on the farm or at the meat shop. They're the sort of people who are always talking, complaining or voicing some other concern. Can you see your MP mopping floors or doing dishes? Heck no.
Nope. I've decided that that's it. I'll work the next three years at the meat shop or in some other no-nonsense blue-collar job where apples are apples and oranges are oranges and then when I've obtained my education, I'll go teach those who ask questions instead of constantly throwing out accusations, who aren't whiny but often are very keen to learn and work, who listen when spoken to. Those who - stand no more than 4 and a half feet tall? Yes. Grade school kids.
The trials of a grade four classroom are nothing when compared to those I would find in the House of Commons. Working in a more mature, productive, and educated environment I'd find much more satisfaction. I'm too polite to be a politician.
There are reasons that the House of Commons during Question Period is often referred to as more of a "playground" than a place of business or politics. Politics, that word brings to my mind visions of a stressed out thirty/forty-something party aide, Blackberry in one hand, third cup of Timmy's in the other, dark circles around his eyes.
That profession that makes good people do bad things.
Indeed as Rousseau argued, man (and woman) is most moral when in nature, acting not out of ambition, greed, etc. but rather out of pure and simple instinct: I'm hungry, I will eat. I'm tired, I will sleep.
This is not to say that man/woman was more "good" or "pure" in nature, but rather that when they did fight it was out of natural instinct and not done for political gain or some other selfish benefit.
For example, in The Count of Monte Cristo, crown prosecutor Villefort has Edmond Dantes arrested for treason. The real reason Dantes was placed in jail? Because he had knowledge of potentially damning information, information about Villefort's father that could ruin his career.
Rousseau argued that such things would not happen in nature. In other words, Villefort and Dantes would only have fought in the circumstance where Dantes was trying to go for the same rabbit for his supper as Villefort. But this conflict/fight would thus arise naturally.
Politics is a dirty business. Backroom dealings, arguing and throwing the blame at others, criticizing people. Sounds a lot like a bunch of teenagers to be quite honest.
This stuff has permeated the CBC contest NGPM. One need only look at the forum and some of the debates/criticism going on. One candidate seems to have it out for everybody and is attacking other candidates' policies left and right. (pun intended)
I can't bring myself to engage in debates with these people. One reason, because they are simply never-ending. Everyone knows a person or persons who are impossibly stubborn and would argue that water boils at -5 degrees C if they had to. (no doubt some smartass person out there is going to comment on this and say that indeed, yes, water does boil at -5 degrees C under the following circumstances:...)
Je m'en fout! I don't care. I'm too polite to be a politician.
And the sad thing is that these people don't often know how to do a good day's work on the farm or at the meat shop. They're the sort of people who are always talking, complaining or voicing some other concern. Can you see your MP mopping floors or doing dishes? Heck no.
Nope. I've decided that that's it. I'll work the next three years at the meat shop or in some other no-nonsense blue-collar job where apples are apples and oranges are oranges and then when I've obtained my education, I'll go teach those who ask questions instead of constantly throwing out accusations, who aren't whiny but often are very keen to learn and work, who listen when spoken to. Those who - stand no more than 4 and a half feet tall? Yes. Grade school kids.
The trials of a grade four classroom are nothing when compared to those I would find in the House of Commons. Working in a more mature, productive, and educated environment I'd find much more satisfaction. I'm too polite to be a politician.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
