We’re into the third week of school and naturally that means I have a sick kid. Sir Monkeypants said yesterday morning, as I was calling the school to report an absence, that in the future I should just book off the third and maybe forth weeks of September to do no work at all, because there will obviously be sick kids parading through in a revolving door of sneezing, hacking, and lying around feverish on the couch in front of Indiana Jones/iCarly/The Little Mermaid (as applicable). Grrrr.
At the moment it’s Little Miss Sunshine on the couch, into her second day of illness. It’s just a cold, but a rotten one, and no one else wants my kid coughing all over their kid at school. But despite the fact that it was an easy call today, I’m still super pouty about it. Kids who stay home sick get a stern lecture about how this is Mommy’s Work Time and they are to Remain Quiet and Rest and that Mommy Is Not Available For Play. That does not stop them, though, from needing to eat, and needing to be comforted with a hot water bottle, and needing to ask for help with the DVD player, and needing to be SUPER BORED and annoy the pants out of me as they beg me to PLAY WITH THEM, just for a little while, please.
So it always ends up that I do no work, and fret about it all day long, and then get cranky, and then no one is happy. Why can’t my kids just live in a bubble and never get sick? Is that too much to ask? I THINK NOT.
While the Little Miss is at home we fortunately (well, not for her, but for me) have her homework book here to work away on, and she has an assignment this week to build a family tree, so we have been looking into that a bit. She has to write down the names of her parents and grandparents and siblings, and talk about her heritage, and then list a few key events from her life. This has led to an interesting point of discussion (at least for me) about how long a family history has to go back in a country to be considered “from” that country.
For example, filling out Sir Monkeypants’ side of things was pretty easy – where it said “my father’s relatives come from …” we wrote “India”, because he is of Indian heritage but also, his parents were actually born in India (although raised in Africa, but that’s another story). So you could clearly point to a family link to India and familiarity with Indian languages and customs and food.
But for me, answering this question was a lot harder. I’m a mongrel mix of various European cultures, mostly English and Scottish, but my family has been in Canada for like, five generations now, and I certainly no longer have any relatives that live overseas. But I think the idea of the project is to get an idea of how other cultures influence your history, so in the end I told her to write “my mother’s relatives come from England” even though my full knowledge of English culture comes from James Bond movies and articles in People magazine about Prince George and his future sibling (Royal Baby Watch, SQUEE).
So what do you think – how long before I can just say, “my mother’s relatives come from Canada”? Are North Americans ever “from” here? Or are we all, in perpetuity, “from” somewhere else?
Guess taking care of a sick kid puts me in a philosophical frame of mind.