This Week – September 15th 2018 – A little more autumn…

This week was less eventful than last, which was basically a good thing since most of last week’s events were not fun! Continue reading


This Week – August 25th 2018 – Summer Dawdles On

Moths on a pram?!

The conclusion technically in sight but actually, the heat just keeps going. There are little reprieves, but not that significant and they all seem to involve me adding, “and there was a typhoon nearby…” Continue reading

Needing a little bit of Tokyo

shinjuku picture

I sometimes forget that I live in what is loosely described as greater Tokyo. Life happens and it’s mundane and it all becomes so normal that it’s only occasionally that I’m reminded that, whoa, I live on the outskirts of the biggest, zaniest city in the world.

I’m not having a great week. We’re having problems with our house, the owner and one of the neighbours at the moment. I don’t feel quite like getting into the whole thing yet – I suspect I’ll be more up for telling the whole awful story when there’s a resolution at least in sight – but the whole thing is upsetting and we’re looking at moving. 

With that as a starting point, it hasn’t taken much for my mood to head steadily downward. There have already been a lot of problems the last few months and, when we do get through something, it’s often only with a lot of stress involved. I’m also running on about 4 or 5 hours sleep at the moment, which leaves me miserable more often than not, and, all in all, I’ve been a bit of a mess. Teary. Dizzy spells. Loss of appetite. Stressed.

On Wednesday, I had to head into Tokyo itself for a work thing. I wasn’t thrilled when I first heard about it, but I did have the wherewithal to at least figure I may as well make the best of it. Instead of rushing off and making the one hour plus return trip as soon as work was finished, I asked the childcare to watch Mr. K for an hour more than was strictly necessary and lingered a little.

I did two things. One, I had lunch in a Nepalese restaurant in the laneway leading out from Okubo station. Two, I headed off to Takashimaya Times Square in Shinjuku nd, most importantly, the branch of Kinokuniya that is still housed there. It’s my favourite English bookshop in this city, and it was one of the very first places I visited when I first came to Japan. 

Only after I was done with that did I make the long trip back to pick up Mr. K (who had quite enjoyed his day with the other babies) and then retreat to what doesn’t entirely feel like home just now. 

Physically, the whole thing left me exhausted. I had had even less sleep than usual, the trip was tiring, work was intense and Tokyo is overwhelming. Mentally, though, I realised I actually felt rather stimulated. I felt an old fizz of excitement just being there in the heart of Shinjuku with all those people swirling around me. And, most importantly, I began to feel less sad and more up for fighting it out, whatever the next it happens to be. 

“But he’s too little!”


Definitely not a pose his father let him linger in for longer than it took to take this photo

I work part-time and this means, with a couple of notable exceptions, that my seven month old is elsewhere while I’m doing so. “Elsewhere” for us means a nice childcare center less than 10 minutes from where his father works. We were lucky to get a place at all, let alone in one that’s vaguely convenient, new and modern, complete with largish, airy rooms, kids grouped by age, outside space, and a carer-to-child ratio of 1:3 for the babies.

For some people, that’s still not cool, though. Childcare at all for a baby is just. not. right. He’s too young! He should be at home with… well, me! Or a family member, at least. Or someone like that, I don’t know, you figure that part out, but still!

What are we thinking?

A simple answer that, actually, childcare seems to suit Mr. K reasonably well and I don’t think it’s so bad for him to be looked after qualified individuals who, so far, seem to be taking exceptionally good care of him when he is with them may be the best solution for my own peace of my mind. It doesn’t really give my life-commentators the explanation they’re seeking, though, and even though they’re not really entitled to such, I still find myself wanting to provide one. A defense, a justification, an explanation, something.


The only socially acceptable answer really seems to be a sudden admission of abject poverty. That raises a whole new problem, though, in that we are suddenly talking about money and that is a bit of a taboo. Do they really want a breakdown of our household income? Or  the details of the financial mess caused by my father’s unexpected death (another taboo!) and how I would like to help my mother? Do they want an in-depth discussion about university debt, rent prices, the coat of fresh food? Perhaps I can explain, in depth, what starting unpaid maternity leave early cost, or the expenses that a baby generally accrues.

I’m doing part-time work, so things can’t be too bad. I must only want money, not really need it. Maintaining a certain quality of life, pfft. Perhaps if I cut out some of those expensive extras… my idea of an expensive extra is a 500 coffee set? No, that can’t be it. Those expensive overseas holidays… visits to my family? Huh.

Do I need to I explain that no, my husband doesn’t make enough money to cover this? Shall I explain why it works that way? And that I also prefer him having a job where I actually see him as opposed to a more financially-lucrative job where he’s absent for six days, sometimes 7 days a week? Perhaps I need to stick to more general comments on money? But then, I doubt they really want to hear my extensive and largely negative commentary on the full-time wage, Japan’s “Abenomics” version of neoliberalism, Japanese work culture, gender roles, men generally working themselves into the ground?

Talking about politics and criticising the esteemed Japanese culture, yes. That’s going to go so well, don’t you think?

Should I tell them that I actually enjoy my work and, on the days I don’t, that I still get satisfaction from doing it? That’s just selfish, though, isn’t it?  It doesn’t matter how I might feel about work or staying at home, or how well I know my mental state. Nothing is as important as being a mother and being a mother means being there all the time, duh.

If I need help, I could ask my mother… oh, right, Australia. Well, my mother-in-law, surely? She must be so excited about her grandson! Should I then explain how strained that relationship is, the now non-existent support on that front, and how non-interested she is in Mr. K at all, especially compared to her daughter’s baby girl? Hell, perhaps we need to discuss the weirdness of my husband’s family generally, and exactly why my sister-in-law is getting a divorce too.

Or, you know, we could discuss where the fathers fit into all of this and we could branch into my thoughts on your somewhat outdated notions about gender roles to boot. That sounds like a bit of fun too, doesn’t it?

In short, the more I try to think of appropriate responses and explanations, the more I realise that just about every line of conversation these supposedly innocent remarks about childcare could take us on touches on something taboo. All of the explanations that are expected of me lead to topics  that have the potential to be scandalous, interesting… and absolutely uncomfortable. It’s generally accepted that these are things people might not want to talk about, and we’re generally not expected to do so.

Since these people are fairly often well-meaning students, my inner troll sometimes sticks its head out and I find myself fighting the urge to tell them that my God, they have shown me the light! I see the rightness of their words! I’ll quit my job right now and hurry home to resume childcare duties at once!

Oh, what? That leaves you without an English teacher? Well then.

Since trolling is definitely out, the only acceptable response to an unsolicited comment on what was not an easy decision about raising my baby is… no response. I am supposed to simply take this throwaway criticism in my stride, maybe act appropriately ashamed and sad to top it off.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, I don’t entirely want to do that. What I wish instead is that we could all add another taboo to the list of those I’ve outlined above, that being the offering of unsolicited criticism, however throwaway the comments might be, on people’s parenting decisions.

The simple fact is that, unless the child is obviously being neglected, it’s fair to assume that no small amount of thought went into the decisions about his or her care. It’s also reasonable to assume that the decision isn’t up for review right now and that the parents don’t need to add a little dose of pointless negativity to their days… so try not to offer it.