It's 3 o'clock and Daddy's Nowhere to be Found

It’s 3 o’clock in the morning and you are wrenched from sleep by the distinct sound of your child whimpering from their room. You dash down the hall, only to find you’re too late and not only have a child to soothe, but a mess to clean up. This is the start of a potentially long day. We’ve all been there, and it doesn’t shape up into anything pleasant, but what about if Daddy is nowhere to be found?

If you are a single parent with another child to tend to, and start your day like this, then life might be a wee bit miserable for the day. And while it might not bring much comfort, you are not alone. According to Statistics Canada’s 2006 records, 15.9 % of all families in Canada were lone-parent families. That’s 1,414,060 single-parent families within our borders[1]. There’s a lot of potential for a logistical nightmare, if those families tending to an ailing child, also have to provide for other children as well. With brains racing through the previously planned activities of the day, such as shuttling children to school, or getting to that big game, what do you do with your sick child that has their head hung in the toilet?

---

[1] 2006 Census – Statistics Canada

Well in my case, I hold the garbage can for my little girl's head, and pray that the bug doesn't spread beyond her. It is one thing to have an ill child, but to follow one sick child with another, or even to fall pray to illness myself, makes life more than tricky. I don't want to go down that road. I am hoping for blue skies in my tomorrow, but we shall see.

Today I begged a favour from a neighbour to watch the poor pasty girl and ran the other to school, then hunkered down for the day. I managed to still be productive between bouts of dry heaves, by working on this article (see beginning of it above) for the class that I had to cancel this evening. Laundry got done, but the icky smells in the house made that a priority, so I don't claim to be a superhero there. I kept a water glass filled and held hair out of the line of fire. I was here to help, but was mostly helpless to stop the ills of the day. It had to run its course.

Now I am tired. My sleep was interrupted and the flow of my day was far from ideal. My child was ill and I sat back and watched, offering what little support I could. I feel melancholy and alone at the end of this day. I have supports, but these are the days when I miss the normal that "you" have. You two parent families. You single parent families that can call the missing parent back into the fold for crisis. You are blessed and I hope you cherish that. I survived, but am reminded of my loss again. Damn lonely day.

I am going to lay my weary body to bed. Kiss your children. Tell your partner you love them. Let's all hold the world a little closer in our hearts today.Tomorrow is a new day.

Art is Named Tops

crinkled eyes hold thrill

a heart full to bursting as

Art is named tops and

One Stop Poetry stands

at pedestal for all

Congratulations to the team at One Stop Poetry for winning the Shorty award for Best in Arts this past weekend. You guys have worked so hard to highlight this wonderful forum that means so much to so many. You provide a wonderful service to us all. I am proud to be able to have one little piece of the One Stop Carpet to call my own. I am overjoyed for you all. Bask in your glory. You all deserve it.

Woohoo! Party time and OSW is buying rounds!!! Yeehaw!

A Ghost on Board

Bodies littered the filthy, open deck. Colourful sarongs tucked in close beside stunned chickens, and giant bags of God knows what.  It still amazed me that live chickens could be found everywhere. You saw them scratching in the dirt around rondavels, at market waiting to be plucked and fried, or sold to another for the same treatment. They were a common traveller on buses, and here too on the ferry sailing South to Monkey Bay.

The large checkered polyethylene bags, that were always stuffed to bursting, were an anomaly as well.  They could hold a traveller’s entire worldly possessions, or more likely, their wares to hawk at the market. Always dirty white with a blue or red  pattern, they adorned women’s arms and heads. It struck me that the men usually travelled much lighter, leaving the heavy work to the women.

Chickens and plastic totes were not the only thing that the women travelled with. Everywhere you looked,  babies clung quietly to women’s backs or chests. You never heard them crying or making a fuss, but perhaps that was due to their close proximity to the most important person in their lives; Mother. These mothers seemingly did not even notice the addition to their load. Babies were a constant and just a part of who these women were. It was only age that released them from that burden.

The men on the other hand, had it comparatively easy. No babies or children clung to them, and luggage was left to the women. They could be seen engrossed in a  game of bao just about anywhere. Even here, I could see a few games set up in various corners of the ferry, before we even left shore. Their factions were boisterous and held the air of a party. I wouldn’t doubt that a carton of Chibuku or two were being imbibed. They loved their shake shake, but despite giving it a try, I was not a convert to the millet beer. The taste of the sludge was not worth the possible effects that could be gleaned from drinking it.

I was not offered any now though. At present, I was curled onto a little bench that I clung to. We had left Nkhata Bay at 3PM. There was to be a stop at Senga Bay and a few other little ports, before we reached Monkey Bay  at 6 or 7AM two days hence. It was a very long ferry ride and my white legs were the only ones that walked this boat. I was a ghost amongst a sea of black travellers. Curious eyes followed any movements I made, but the shy women made no attempt to speak to me. I pondered that it was not their place to speak, and certainly not to a foreigner. My inner voice gave thanks that I had not been born to their reality.

Without Brett by my side now, I silently watched the world go by. I prayed that my pack would not disappear overnight, as I shivered through the misty darkness on deck. I was glad to have it too, for the cool night air found me digging for extra clothes to put on, so I would survive my ordeal. The warm bodies of sleepy chickens looked inviting now, as I mentally willed warmth into my chilled limbs. And while I could have looked into an inner cabin for the voyage, my pockets were thin in change. So many others were willing to ride on deck, hence I deemed that I wasn’t above it myself. I looked around at the others that huddled about  and couldn’t help but contrast our stations though. Comparatively, I could have afforded better accommodations. Elusive sleep screamed my folly.

It would be a long unpleasant ride, ever vigilant of the filth and thieves that potentially lurked everywhere, but as long as this ferry did not sink, as the other had done a mere month before that, I would survive.

Sleep!

Bathtime

Bedtime

Storytime

Kisstime

Hugtime

Sleeptime

Time yet to play

Time yet for song

Time yet to count

Time yet to read

Time yet for yawns

Time to protest

Time to

Sleep!

~

I am willing the children to let go of the weekend and ease into sleep. It is Sunday and I want to finish my last assignment for the week before heading to bed myself. 

Happy Sunday 160 to Monkey Man and all of you.

Saturday's Email of the Week: Anyone want to adopt a cat?

Awww, look at the cute kitty!

Haven't played along over at 6WS in a while either

so I am going to link in there too.

*Some days you just don't feel like playing along

and that's alright...