Author: Veronica

Stay home, save lives. That’s the key message our government is sending over Easter, and I’m interested to see how many people think this doesn’t apply to them. I live on a main(ish) road, heading towards a known holiday/shack destination, and I’m interested to see how much traffic we get today as people still try to sneak away to their shacks. I hope none, but you know. People.

While 95% of us are sitting at home, or only going out to work/get groceries, there’s always someone who thinks the rules don’t apply to them. “I’ll just sneak out for this thing I absolutely need (want), I’m careful, I will be fine.” Only everyone is having the same response to being asked to stay inside, and here we are.

We managed to get toilet paper yesterday, which was nice. We weren’t quite running out yet, but having known allergies which upset my stomach badly, I get a bit twitchy when we’re under 10 rolls of toilet paper in the house. Sugar is my next thing to hunt down – we’re not super low yet, but I’d prefer to not have to sacrifice my white and brown baking sugars for Nathan’s coffee (we use raw sugar for coffee and tea predominately). But again, it’s not a need yet.

Isaac is learning to bake packet cakes, and once his cake is out of the oven, I’ll go make some soap. Probably. I’ve been super exhausted the last few days, and I can’t work out if I’ve been sick (possible – EDS + stress = sick), or if it’s a trauma response (also possible), or if it’s the adjustment now Daylight Saving ended. Probably all three tbh.

(Lots of cars going past as I type. I cannot see them from here, but more than the last few days of standard workers/farm utes/trucks/residents)

Tassie has 107 cases today, and I know you know this, but when I look back on things in 12 months, it will be nice to know where we were at. 107 cases. It’s a lot, and also not many, and also way too many.

Amy’s school sent out her school work packets last week and hers arrived today. It’s the second packet of work to arrive for her since we pulled them out of school three weeks ago. It came with a letter, basically asking us not to fight with our kids if they’re struggling with hard copy work, and reminding parents it’s more important our children and teenagers feel loved and supported during a pandemic.

Basically, here’s some school work to help, but at the end of the day, everyone is missing work and we will catch up when we’re able to return to a semblance of normality. Do not fight over this.

I like this mentality. It’s a pandemic. If I’m feeling anxious, my kids are too, and we all need to be gentle with each other as we live through this. It’s baby days yet, and likely to get worse.

But it’s also technically school holidays now, so we’ve got three weeks until anyone even needs to think about schoolwork properly.

I’m reminding myself that adding to my own workload (mental, or physical) is not sensible right now, so trying to do a whole colour-coded learning system is probably not my best use of energy.

I hope this information helps you too.

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I cut a chunk out of my finger/nail. In hindsight, I may not have been awake enough to be chopping veggies for the cockatiels with my newly sharpened knife, and here we are. Typing incredibly awkwardly. I tried taking the dressing off but it hurt too much, so now my finger just gets to sit in the air while I type like a useless sausage.

It will remain to be seen if I can still make soap (probably) although packaging cured soaps might be out for a day or two. Probably no pumpkin soup for dinner either.

In other news, my baby quail are almost ready to move out of the brooder (hurrah) and I just now need to decide whether I’m going to sell them, or fill my own freezer. I’m paranoid about other people right now, so they may end up in my freezer. Pandemics, not so great for the economy.

We’ve still got a few chickens laying, which is a huge relief, and enough roosters I can fill my freezer if I need to. It doesn’t take much to return to poverty planning, counting the extra roosters, working out the best use of freezer and garden space, dialling back and hunkering down.

I’m grateful to have these options, but chickens have never been a frivolity for me, they’re a back up plan, an emergency ration. Just because they’re also pretty and funny does not change why I got them in the first place.

“Mum, I’d really like to go back to school now.”

I feel her. I feel her deep in my bones. We’ve had the kids home from school since the 17th of March, for everyone’s safety, and it’s starting to bite. We will ignore the fact it’s Saturday, and school holidays, and no one is going to school at all.

I like staying at home usually. I like it a lot. But it’s a lot harder when there’s a pandemic on and you absolutely cannot go anywhere except the supermarket and the chemist. Maybe it’s the backdrop of anxiety; of waiting for the tsunami to hit; of counting the ways we can keep ourselves safe.

(Wash your hands, wash your hands, wash your hands…)

I stocked up on soap ingredients before the major supermarkets put their limits in place, and picked up tallow and coconut oil from the big wholesalers. Of course I’ve been making soap like mad, because we all need to retain our sanity in this environment, and now I’ve only got one box of tallow left. I’m sure that’s going to go down a treat when I need to cross the river (something we’re trying to avoid).

Because what else is there to do but bake bread and make soap? It might sound like privilege, but I have flour and yeast, I have a business, I have a brain which is likely to go all squirrelly if I don’t keep my hands busy.

My bones might fall apart, but they can be patched up with tape and braces. We’re all in a lot more trouble if my brain starts to misbehave the way my collagen does.

So I bake bread, and apple pies, and make soap, and tell the Internet that it’s okay to be doing whatever gets you through the day right now. (Probably don’t kill anyone though, if murder is getting you through the day you’ve got bigger problems than I can help with.)

There’s a lot of one-upmanship happening out there right now. Who has it worst, who is struggling hardest, who can sit at home and read books, who is literally putting their lives on the line. And FFS people, it’s a pandemic, can’t we just support each other? No one is doing okay, I suspect we’re all refreshing the news feeds and twitter as best we can, trying to keep our shit together. Stop with the culture wars, and pitting people against each other.

Pandemics are rough. It’s a traumatic event, unfolding so slowly we don’t quite know what to do with it.

Give yourself permission to bake bread, or sleep, or scream into a pillow. Whatever works. Honestly.

We’re in that weird bit of the year, where time has no meaning and the fridge is still full of cheese and leftovers. Christmas is over for another year, and after the chaos of preparing everything, we had a really lovely day.

Baby quail are hatching today, which is always cute, if slightly loud. This year our two new cockatiels are spending their time flock calling for the new babies, which is … loud.

Cockatiels like to flock call to make sure they know where everyone is. Because Sunny and Luna are still so new to our household (3 weeks now), they don’t always flock call to us humans. But squeaking babies? Best keep an eye on those.

It’s been a good year. Amy started Highschool and finished quite well – her reports were good, but the most important thing, her teachers actually SEE her. They like her. They can see her strengths. Such an important thing.

Isaac’s knee misbehaved throughout the last two months of the year, and he spent an exhausting 6 weeks on crutches, feeling like his fibula wasn’t quite in place properly. He was in lots of pain and couldn’t weight bear properly. An MRI showed an enlarged fibula head, with a joint that is actually horizontal, rather than a 30 degree angle – probably a congenital thing, and likely to contribute to his knee instability.

Boxing Day, he woke up without pain, feeling like his knee was finally back into position. It’s such a relief, and he’s very pleased to be able to weight bear. He is on the waiting list for testing under anaesthesia and depending on what that shows, surgery to fix it more permanently.

Evelyn had an excellent year also. Once she had some accomodations in her classroom – earmuffs, chill out breaks, cool down periods – she settled in nicely. We suspect Evelyn is also autistic, so she’s on the waiting list for formal assessment now. Which will be nice, mostly to have a piece of paper to force accomodations to happen. She’s melting down much less often, particularly now she’s had a week off school. Not being exhausted helps.

Business-wise, our wholesale accounts increased a lot over the second half of the year, which is keeping me incredibly busy. We’re also still open to the public two days a week (Friday/Saturday) and our end of year markets were incredibly successful. It’s been busy, and I’m not actually going to get a holiday break, but I cannot complain about success.

Heading into the new year I don’t usually make resolutions. But I want to create more this year – whether it is art, or writing, or the occasional ridiculous pretty soap, I need a bit more to fill my soul. This year hasn’t been a bad year – not compared to some we’ve had, but it’s certainly been an intense year, where it’s felt like we’ve bounced from chaotic moment to chaotic moment without any breathing space. From Mum’s cancer, to various health related things, to kids and school and work.

Hopefully we can fill 2020 with lots of fun.

The come down after a big event is rough. Both mental, and physical. You spend so much time in a heightened sense of panic beforehand – prepping, labelling, packaging, remembering and forgetting things every hour – that the return home is more of a collapse than anything else.

Bushfest was great. But it came on the tail end of making a huge amount of soap for wholesale clients (YOU GUYS ROCK), and keeping all of their orders straight in my head, making sure I had quantities enough for what everyone requested — and look, I use a lot of lists. I have my wholesale order lists pinned where I can see them and mark everything off. But I also have ADHD, and it is A LOT OF EVERYTHING to keep running smoothly.

The relief I felt when my biggest order was delivered was palpable. The next two orders to go out felt like rocks being lifted off my shoulders. Now there’s only a measly 20 bars of soap waiting for collection, and I am DONE for the XMAS wholesale rush.

We have one market to go (Hobart Handmade Makers Market – 14th December, 10am – 3pm – Lindisfarne North Primary School, Geilston Bay) and then I might be able to breathe again. HHMM is one of my absolute favourites however, so it’s always a good day.

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On Sunday, during Bushfest, the MC was walking around, interviewing stallholders. He walked past me three or four times during the day, mostly when I wasn’t busy, and dismissed our stall as unimportant.

It got me thinking about the worth we place on businesses run by and ostensibly for, female-presenting-people.

Soap is for everyone. At the very least, every single person should use some sort of product to clean their bodies. Obviously I am a fan of soap rather than shower gel, but everyone showers, everyone uses things to clean themselves.

And yet, my entire business is seen as “for the women”, and frequently sneered at when I’m attending events that are either ungendered, or geared towards men. It’s a bit disconcerting to be dismissed as unimportant because our business revolves around soap and skincare.

But it happens. All. Of. The Time.

Women’s things (businesses, hobbies, luxuries) are considered less important. Because our soap smells nice, and looks amazing (if I do say so myself), it isn’t considered practical enough, or blokey enough to take seriously.

I grew up in the bush, fairly close to off grid. I helped cut and split wood, light fires, debark trees, build our house. I also learned to cook, and kill and clean animals. I’m fairly proficient at a number of activities, none of which I’d really consider gendered.

All of this is to say, I’m fairly comfortable at an event like Bushfest. I’m fluent in the language of rural life.

And yet, there we were. Dismissed as being “for the girls”.

I wasn’t interviewed all weekend. No on-air promotion for the soap stall. And it shouldn’t rankle, because honestly, I had amazing customers of all genders, all weekend. The people who buy our soap ROCK. And we sold a lot of hand cream to all kinds of people – nurses, concreters, cooks, plasterers and bushmen. Because taking care of your skin and your hygiene should not be a gendered thing.

But there you go. Gender is a construct and the sooner we start to break down the walls of what people are allowed to enjoy, the better. Not just for my business (everyone deserves good soap in a smell they love), but in general.

Please don’t think this is a complaint about Bushfest in general – the event was excellently organised, and always very well run. But it’s always interesting to pay attention to the demographic of an event, and how that impacts our interactions throughout the day.