JULY 5 — My childhood memories of playing in my grandparents’ sprawling garden are doused liberally with Tabard insect repellant and smoke from burning mosquito coils.
Those of us too impatient to have repellant rolled, rubbed or sprayed onto us would inevitably fall prey to the dozens of mosquitoes that buzzed around. Ah Mah (our grandmother) would then apply her all-natural remedy on our bites: marking an ‘X’ on the bite with her thumbnail, followed by a generous dollop of saliva.
In our playtime adventures, we would also have touched all sorts of surfaces covered with dust, mud, grime, cat and dog fur and so on and our parents barely batted an eyelid. It was a simple case of “Wash your hands before you eat”.
Fast forward 25 years: I am now mother to 18-month-old Ishan. I would like to think that I am as open-minded and relaxed as my parents were.
At age six months, my son was only one of maybe two babies who were allowed to crawl on the pebble-dash floor of the common area in our apartment building. I received quite a few questioning looks and gentle reprimands. Ishan’s knees have bruises every now and then from the occasional fall as he enjoys his new-found mobility but these are worth all his shrieks of delight. I pride myself for giving my son’s immune system a chance to develop.
The truth is my view is changing. I am slowly but surely joining the ranks of the paranoid parent.
We never leave home without a pack of wet wipes should tiny hands touch the floor or a stone or the trash can by the elevator doors (never mind that these are disinfected every two hours).
Disposable masks are tucked inside our bags because cough or sneeze and you’ll get THE LOOK for not wearing one. SARS is still fresh in the minds of cautious Hongkongers but to those new to pandemic, this may reek of paranoia.
Now with the H1N1, the playroom is shut, as are nurseries, play groups and kindergartens. It’s hard to fault parents for keeping their children at home; there is always some virus or other infecting our little ones.
(Stepping away from my paranoid parent persona for a minute, I must say that life in Hong Kong hasn’t grounded to a halt because of the H1N1. People still take the bus and MTR as usual, pack into elevators and throng the malls every day. The ever-present automatic hand disinfectant dispenser and face masks for sale in about every corner somehow offer us some sense of security.)
I now run through a mental checklist before going to the playground: Feed Ishan multivitamin? Check; Wet wipes? Check; Long trousers to prevent scraped knees? Check; All-natural herbal insect repellant? MSG-free snack? Low-sugar juice? Check, check, check.
With the abbreviated checklist above sorted, we look forward to a fun time. But that’s when the real worry starts.
I instinctively want to whisk my boy away every time I spot a runny nose on a nearby child. My head whips around when I hear a phlegmy cough. I curse silently at the parent who allowed their sick child out.
But then… when Ishan last had a cold, all he wanted was to go outside and play. He would feebly say “ples (please)” over and over again and point to the door with his shoes in hand. How could I say no to that? For the record, we went to the playground at off-peak hours.
Yet with all the precautions taken, the inevitable happens. I had to rush Ishan to the paediatrician when his right eyelid swelled one night. I’m still stinging from a HK$500 (RM230) fee to have the doctor tell me that my son’s swollen eye was the result of a mosquito bite (it cost RM45 in Kuala Lumpur last week; this time my son’s left ear ballooned to Dumbo proportions). I bet my parents would have just employed my late Ah Mah’s remedy or Mopiko ointment.
Still, one cannot be too careful. Parents here are infamously protective of their young ones; some keep them indoors all day in a 600-odd sq ft apartment to avoid unnecessary accidents or infections. I hope I never have to resort to doing the same.
Has the world become so unsafe that we forget to live, to enjoy feeling the grass? Or is this our evolutionary adaptation to survive in these modern times? Will our children end up being bubble wrap babies?
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I, too, want my children to learn to walk on grass barefoot (without worrying about dirt) and smell life's roses. And there's a difference between keeping your child healthy and making them develop OCD.
Bubble rap babies won't last long, once you burst their bubble, their infantile immune system just won't be able to cope with our world. Better to be dirty now than die from a cold at 14.
xoxo, s.
http://summerr-in-the-shower.blogspot.com