Okaasan, my mother-in-law, was actually here. Continue reading
So, guess what E’s “cold” turned out to be? Continue reading
“Oh, it’s high!” exclaimed the other mother in surprise, holding aloft the thermometer. I gave her a sympathetic smile as I hoisted E out of her carrier to do the same process. How many times have my children had perfectly normal temperatures only for the childcare thermometers to offer up some absurdly high reading?
I tucked the thermometer under E’s arm, waited, and then gasped in surprise myself at the elevated number it showed. “What?” I peered at E suspiciously. “You do not have a fever.”
“Maybe the room’s hot?” suggested their childcare worker, heading over to adjust the air conditioner. The other baby, in the meantime, was having her temperature taken again and, this time, it produced a low reading to her mother’s palpable relief.
I decided to use the same thermometer for E’s second attempt. The number that came back was still high, but within the realms of normal. I frowned to myself and patted her head before handing her over. She must have gotten a bit too warm in her carrier, I reasoned. Her head felt as hot as it always did.
It’s Mr. K who always has a hot head. It’s not E. E’s head is usually cool. It’s been a relief, really, how reassuringly cool her bald head is compared to her bronchitis-ridden brother. Something was amiss.
But she was already settled into her teacher’s arms, as calm as ever. She had played around like normal at home. It was probably nothing.
Reluctantly, I left and headed off to work, but I kept checking my phone throughout the morning. The lack of calls from childcare was reassuring at first, but then my imagination went into overdrive. Perhaps they hadn’t called because they hadn’t had the chance. Perhaps they were too busy rushing E to hospital somewhere because something was really, really wrong, and maybe they had just called R instead and he was rushing to meet them somewhere-…
It was actually more of a relief when I got out of my final class for the morning and found a missed call from R on my phone. Childcare had indeed called him, but only because phone Japanese is not what you would call a strength of mine by any stretch of the imagination. E was not in the emergency ward of a hospital or anything remotely like that, but she did definitely have a fever. In fact, it had gone up to 39 degrees. I was to come and pick her up ASAP.
And so here we are. The 39 reading worried me and had me wondering about
goddamn bloody annoying why is there no vaccine for it roseola so we ended up going via the doctor’s (Mr. K stayed at childcare until afterwards). While he was pleasant and appeared to take me seriously, the doctor just diagnosed a cold (possibly with a wave of his boyband haircut to cap the whole thing off), and told me to come back if E still had a fever on Saturday. Honestly, that doesn’t seem impossible right now. After a nightmare night of her screaming on Wednesday, it seemed like she had turned a corner and her temperature was mostly normal by this afternoon. Now, though, she’s hot again and squirming in her sleep, and I’m searching my inbox for tomorrow’s company’s phone number. At least I don’t have to try to make sure I sound genuinely sick when I’m calling in because my children are sick, hey?
So yes. More cancelled work, more anxious waits as the numbers on the thermometer fly up just a little too quickly, more ambiguous diagnoses and the ongoing unpleasant realisation that, as far as medicine has come, there are an awful lot of things that nobody knows or just nobody bothers with. Whatever immunity E borrowed from me for her first six months has worn off. It’s her turn now.
But hey, autumn! Continue reading
My nearly three year old son and I have different priorities. Continue reading
There are days when I cannot believe that my job is teaching English and it’s for good reasons, and then there are days like today. Days where I have dropped my son off at childcare despite him getting over bronchitis (again!) and believing he would be better off at home, but I shouldn’t take yet another day off for this company and cancel on these students yet again. Days where I spent 30 minutes trying to find my keys and had to do all sorts of mad dashing to get to work at all. Days where I’ve lugged my laptop in despite the fact it will be raining and I have a fair bit of walking outside to do, primarily so I can play the listening task. Days where I’ve prepared for their lessons the previous night and in the aftermath of the previous week’s lesson despite never being paid for that time. Days where I remember all the little details, like who doesn’t work well together, who sits where, who can’t see the whiteboard well.
It felt like it had taken me a good bit of effort to front up at all for class, and I started the lesson by reminding them brightly that we were practicing the past tense today, talking about what we did over the summer. They knew this in advance, because I also work out what we’re doing when and let them know, and they nodded agreeably as I said it. Then the student with the biggest ego in the group kicked things off and declared that during the summer, he eat pears. “I eat pears last summer.” He said it twice. His English is actually pretty good and I wondered, not for the first time, if he’s really just trolling me with these random exhibitions of shitty grammar.
And then the rest of them were off, talking about pears and slipping in as much Japanese as they possibly could. Because pears. There are a number of different types of Japanese pears and not only do they know what they are but what’s supposedly different about them and which region of Japan each is grown in. They still can’t remember that kuri is chestnut and marron isn’t English and we’ve had this conversation every autumn for the last five plus years. Apparently, even expecting them to remember that ate is the past tense of eat is a bit much. But hey. Those pears.
I know there are worse things I could be doing than teaching English to (elderly) adults who want to stay on the same language plateau forever after. It’s decent money and most of the time, I like these students as people. It’s just that after the effort it had taken just to successfully be there at all, to have the students want to spend the lesson discussing pear breeds in Japanese was a bit… dumbfounding, I guess.
“Mummy! HIDE AND SEEK?”
This week, I’m going to try just writing a bunch of short posts about my life currently. I don’t know how it will go, but I hope you enjoy it 🙂
At just shy of three, my son has quite suddenly become a hide and seek enthusiast. An ongoing fascination with making things appear and reappear plus a wish to get into things he generally shouldn’t meant this was somewhat inevitable. I tried to teach him a few months ago but it didn’t really click. Now, a very catchy song that made the whole thing clear and several Mickey Mouse clubhouse episodes later, he gets it.
Well, sort of. He doesn’t quite understand how only counting to one makes hiding a bit difficult, or that hiding in the same place I just did is a little obvious. He is definitely struggling with the idea that him not being able to see me doesn’t mean I can’t see him, especially when he “hides” with his face in his hands about five steps from where I’m standing.
It’s actually fun, though. I’ve been looking forward to the stage where he wants to actually play more structured games and if it’s all a bit of a work in progress, his mad giggles at the whole thing make it worth it.