RELIABLE CHILD CARE.
I won’t even go into detail about the great Lice Debacle. It’s not worth it. Like Elsa, I need to LET THAT GO.
I have a great child care resource with someone who I genuinely like and completely trust, which is AMAZING.
Because I have had less than ideal experiences. I’ve had people where I’m like….well good luck Annabelle…
I’ve had a daycare person who I had to drop in and check on randomly throughout the day to make sure she wasn’t putting my almost two year old (who was the size of a three year old) in a baby swing just to keep him from running around the house…that was a difficult time.
I have relied HEAVILY on my in-laws, which is a good and bad thing. Good because I know how loved my children are, bad because it’s hard to ask someone you don’t pay to be a reliable childcare service. Especially when that someone is someone you love. With their retirement, they have become an even BIGGER part of our child care, but it is definitely not a permanent “full-time” situation, and I would never want it to be that. I am a firm believer in grandparents being grandparents!
Well recently my current daycare situation has changed and we are in need of child care for our baby three days a week.
OK, I would like to take a moment to say how HARD it is to find daycare for a baby. Especially in our small rural community.
My in-laws had to leave for a few days, my daycare situation changed, and I am getting my tubes tied next month and don’t have enough vacation and sick to cover everything. So, naturally, I called my crippled mother crying on my lunch break while eating a left over half-frozen Milky Way from the fridge.
“Melissa, I have a broken leg but I am not SICK. I could watch him for you.”
The angels descended, there were harps…it was magical.
So after I picked up my crippled mother from her house and drove her an hour to my house the day before to spend the night with us and be ready to watch my baby in the morning, the reality hit us all.
FIRSTLY, my son is a titty baby. And I mean that in a very loving way. He not only still breastfeeds, but he is a needy little guy. Needy, demanding and unyielding. He is the Dictator of our household. He RUNS this ship. So sleep? We don’t sleep. And neither did my crippled mom who bravely chose to sleep with us. Us being my baby and I. Because we cosleep. And not because I am a co-sleeping advocate or a cruchy mom. Because he is a nazi-dictator.
So, my crippled mother had to spend the day hobbling after this tiny angry man.
He screamed when we left, demanded to be carried, would only sleep on her chest using her boobs as pillows, and at one point played a relentless game of peekaboo that ended in him laughing himself to sleep on the couch…
Let’s just say when I got home from work, she was ready to go back home. I get off at five and my mom lives an hour away. She was home by 6:15.
I interviewed a Daycare provider in our area (the only one of the six options that had openings) and visited her home. It was beautiful. Immaculate. I was half-tempted to ask her to adopt me. I bet she’s a better cook than me…sister wives? I digress…
All I needed was THREE DAYS a week, because I already have a wonderful provider to fill in the rest of the time. It seemed like the perfect situation. AND she does drop-off/pick-ups, which is one of my biggest struggles with working full time.
I am not one to put all of my eggs in one basket, but I put them all in her basket. And she painted them, and arranged them with flowers in a pinterest-quality themed basket of beauty.
Everything was falling into place. I thanked her, made some jokes about the trials and tribulations of motherhood, had some laughs and made my way to my car. I literally had to resist the urge to jump for joy. I sat in my car, beaming and eyed the contract.
Then I froze.
It was going to be $100/day. Oh. My. Goodness. (I go to church now, so I am trying not to use the Lord’s name in vain…because I am a better person than you…)
WE CAN’T AFFORD HER.
OMG. OMG. What are we going to do?
I felt as if she poured all the eggs from the basket and stepped on them.
I consulted the husband who had a mini-nervous breakdown and suggested some outlandish scenario that involved selling our house and moving into a trailer in my mom’s backyard. It…it wasn’t an option. Like…if we have to do that…it’s because someone developed a heroine problem/gambling addiction and we are on the streets.
I think we can just say he doesn’t handle life’s curveballs very gracefully…
Do I have to quit my job? Do I have to stay home? “Your kids will benefit from having you home!” Ya….but what about me? What about my goals and ambitions? Why am I the one who has to consider leaving my job? Do I want to do that? Do I not want to do that?
Can we live off of one income? Yes…do we want to? No…does anyone really WANT to?
Extra jobs, maybe my husband doesn’t quit coaching…plans changing…
There’s no daycare in Willows.
There’s no daycare in Willows.
What do people in Willows do for daycare??
How do people in Willows work outside of the home???
How am I going to make money from home????
WHY is there NO WINE in my FRIDGE?????
Maybe I could be daycare in Willows?
The idea had always been in the back of my mind. I love being with my kids… I joke on here but I truly am just a big kid at heart.
But my retirement…what do daycare providers do for retirement?
I’m young this doesn’t have to be forever…but what if this ends and then there’s no jobs left for me?
What the eff, universe??
Took a deep breath. And made a choice.
I can’t control everything. I don’t know what the answer will be a year from now, but I can figure this out. I have been through a divorce. Divorce is brutal. I can handle daycare.
I asked my in-laws if they could help us through June. Then, we will spend the remainder of this time looking for a teenage girl who needs a summer job. Play with a baby three days a week, make some good cash…I would’ve done it when I was in high school!
Once we find a teen, we have until the end of the summer to make a choice.
Because seasons change, and situations change and opportunities fall into place.
Two weeks ago, things were totally different.
Two weeks from now, they will be different again.
The only consistent part of life is its inconsistency.
Also, I am not living in my mom’s backyard.