I’m writing this post by virtue of Llew’s coming home sick earlier this afternoon. He and Master J have both just roused, and now we’re all in the sunroom (though there’s been no sun today), where they’re lying on the floor, apparently exhausted by the effort of regaining consciousness. Llew is really quite unwell – even maintaining this prone position is clearly taxing – so let’s hope he keeps the lurgy to himself.
I’m not remotely surprised he’s come down with the Man Flu strain of whatever infection has been going round and round and round Sydney these long months – he’s dealing with quite a lot of stress at the moment. You see, his role has just been made redundant, so the immediate future professionally and financially is suddenly completely uncertain. This change in our circumstances could herald the start of exciting changes – we both believe a redundancy can represent a terrific opportunity – but there’s no denying there’s quite a lot of anxiety around it too. Economies around the world are tanking faster than potted plants left in my care, and the finance industry in Australia seems likely to follow suit, so there’s not a lot happening in the job market here or anywhere else. Gulp.
We’re also limited in terms of passport privileges… fantasies of decamping to the Italian countryside to convert a barn and learn the language come quickly unstuck the moment we begin exploring tiresome visa restrictions for Australians abroad. It’s times like these when you realise EU passports are worth their weight in gold. Llew and I often bemoan each other as two lousy investments; we’re both Aussie, Aussie as can be. My ‘Percy’ maiden name stands for precisely nought… perhaps I should get some DNA testing done and write to the current Earl of Northumberland demanding to know where else my nose might have come from… One wouldn’t be so gauche as to presume a stake in the ancestral home, but a British passport would be downright jazzy right about now.
I’ve offered to hit the job search myself, of course, but I don’t think Llew much fancies the idea of full-time parenting – he prefers the rock star, sell-out performances of a limited season – so for the time being, I’ll continue freelancing and Llew shall start pounding the pavement. The redundancy does buy us some time; if he gets a job in good time, we’ll actually be better off, and if the search takes a while, we’ve got a few months before we’ll be any worse off at all. It’s really just the economic climate more generally that’s a worry; Llew’s an eminently employable sort of bloke.
So interesting times ahead here at Spew HQ. And on the reflux, I must say Master J has improved quite a lot the past fortnight or so. Hopefully that pesky oesophagal sphincter is finally strengthening. Boy, I won’t miss the puddles of puke. I’m looking forward to my clothes not reeking of vomit, too. It’ll also be nice to retire that constant low-level anxiety about what sort of harm it’s doing his tiny little system, hurling his guts up all day every day (though he’s been doing much, much better than that for a while now) – it can’t be good for him, although the medication is designed to neutralise the acids. We’ve tried to get him off the meds a couple of times now, but the effect so far has been an immediate deterioration and a return to the bad old days in very short order indeed. So add that to the list of things I am very much looking forward to (clearly these are not listed in order of priority): getting my not-quite-eight-months-old little man off daily medication.
Aaanyway, everything is on the table at the moment, all bets are off. Perhaps we’ll farm pearls in WA. Perhaps we’ll move to PNG. Perhaps Llew will find a sponsored job in Asia. Or Europe. Or South America. Perhaps I’ll end up looking for a full-time writing or editing gig. Perhaps we’ll go off grid altogether. Perhaps Llew will find another job within the same organisation during the ‘seek redeployment’ phase. Perhaps he’ll find a better job elsewhere. Perhaps – and this is my preference – he’ll take some time out and give himself the opportunity to reflect on where he’s currently headed as against where he’d actually like to go. Life is already well and truly upon us, so these questions are pressing. He’s given this company nine years of service – it’s a very long time, especially when he’s still wondering how the hell this became his career. So. We’ll see. But perhaps it’s time we both learned to juggle, just in case.