I am on maternity leave. I have spent the last 10 months thinking about, worrying about, stressing and obsessing about finding good quality part-time childcare for two kids. I scoured the Internet. I worked all my networks of other moms and friends. I called four dayhome agencies. I joined playgroups to expand my network, hoping to find... something, some lead. I talked to other mom's that were looking for part-time care, suggesting that we apply together as a total full time spot. I talked to dayhome ladies. I visited several daycares, some of them more than once. I searched online sites that rated daycares. I looked up which daycares were accredited, which one's were not for profit. I continually unloaded my woes and stress upon my friends and family. I made lists of dayhomes, lists of daycares, fully describing the details and pros and cons of each. I made phone calls, and follow up phone calls. I nagged.

Then it happened.

We secured two part-time spots in my top rated daycare on all my lists. The one that had the most independent recommendations (three). The one with a long waiting list due to high demand. The one that is BOTH accredited AND not for profit. The one where 80% of staff have Early Childhood Development Level 3, and all of them have first aid. The one where breakfast is included. The one that is attached to the Elementary school that John will be attending. The one that is right down the street from us, that can be seen from our frontyard. This is the one we got into. It was a childcare miracle.

I was so excited that I literally started jumping up and down once I got off the phone. I had done it, the hard work paid off.

Then.

Then Mike came home and rained on my parade. He was not comfortable with daycare, and did not want to pay the $850 fee per month. He thought it was too expensive and that his parents should take them.

I reminded him that his parents have not offered to take them, and that it is a lot of work, and that if they wanted to take them, they would have offered by now.

So then he secretly went and had a long phone conversation with his dad, who then went and had a long conversation with his mom. So then his mom calls me.

She offers to take the kids.

I don't know what to think. I have been so geared towards the daycare solution, and so emotionally invested in it, that my first reaction is thanks, but no thanks. There are several other reasons for this, including the fact that they live 20 minutes away and with drop offs and picking up, it will take and hour each way to get to and from work. Also, John will not get the benefits of the social environment. Also Mike was not very good at picking up John on time last time, causing frustration and fights. I will see my kids less with this option.

But they will be cared for by people who love them.

But. But there are so many buts. I will feel an overwhelming burden of debt to them, for doing this. It is something that I cannot repay. I don't like this feeling. I also know that they will try and get the kids to stay overnight, which I do NOT want to happen.

The daycare option seemed so easy. We have to drive past it on the way to work for goodness sakes. It would be awesome for John. He would be set up for kindergarten when the time comes, as it is attached to the school.

But Charlotte. She just may be better off with her grandparents than with daycare workers at this young age. She cannot talk yet, cannot tell me if she does not like it. Will they hold her, rock her, pat her, play with her? Will she sit quietly in the corner and not get enough attention?

Mike's dad has said that he would help, so that it would not be so much work for his mom. But I know her, she will just go and do the things that need doing, she will not wait around for someone else to do them. I feel like she will still have the majority of the work, and that she has been guilted into taking the kids against really wanting to, by both Mike's dad and Mike. It is easy for them to say, either of them do not know the true amount of work involved.

If she really wanted to take them, she would have offered months ago. She knew I was stuggling to find care. She knew it was a big stress for me, we talked about it. She did not offer. It is her retirement, she should not have to work through it. And they will still see the kids one day per week most weeks.

It comes down, at the essense, the $850 per month fee and the care of Charlotte at this young age. I am comfortable with both. Mike is not.

So if I cave and go with the grandparent care, then I feel a debt to Mike's parents, I feel bad that Freda is doing something that she really does not want to (or she would have offered earlier), I feel bad that we are taking up babysitting bandwidth for Mike's brother's four kids and that they will secretly resent us for it, I will be annoyed at all the driving and I know it will cause fights with Mike when he brings the kids home late in the evening and lobbies for sleepovers.

If I hold my own and press for daycare, Mike will be pissed. He will be mad about the cash, and has threatened that I can go ahead and pay for it then by myself. He will hold it against me. He will make me feel guilty about leaving Charlotte. And we will pay about $10 thousand per year for care.

So I am confused. I can't decide which path to go down. There are pros and cons of each and I cannot sort it out in my head. What is best for the children? I honestly don't know. The daycare environment is rich with learning, the grandparent environment is rich with love.

What should I do?

Worthwhile.

Do I ever really know who I am or where I am going in this life?

The version of my former self, my interests, my friends, my life.... my schooling, my career, my family... how has that all changed?

My minute to minute interests have changed. Whereas I used to be interested in scouring vintage shops for cool cheap clothes, now I empty the dishwasher and pick up toys. I used to sit for hours on the phone with friends, now I spend hours watching cartoons like Toopy Binoo and Cars and Lion King. Or at least listen to it in the background while I fold laundry.

Days are good days when John does not act up, when he is not whining or grumpy, and when we manage to get out of the house for at least a little while. The park. The mall. The grocery store.

Good days used to be having carefree fun with friends, hanging out for hours without any responsibilities, other than the science homework due the next day.

In University I had fun, but was mostly engaged in studying, learning, accomplishing good grades. This made me feel fulfilled. There were social benefits as well.

When I first moved out, I still defined myself as a studier, a worker, working towards my CMA.

The job sucked though.

But the apartment rocked. I had such fun there, living close to the river valley, just off the Ave, surrounded by large trees and lots of history.

I love my kids more than life itself, but sometimes I find myself getting lost in it. Who am I becoming now? Where is the time for me? What about what my passions or interests? What am I even interested in now?

All I know is that I feel like I should be striving for more, that I need to accomplish more or do more or learn more, while I am here on this planet. Watching another episode of Pokoyo or Poko or Rollie Pollie Ollie is not going to do it for me. I need to feel engaged, like my mind is pondering something significant, worthwhile.

I just need to figure out where to start.

Turtle

While changing John's diaper, hours after picking him up from a sleep over at Grandma's:

John: Grandma says I got a turd.

Me: Really?

John: Yes, turtles come out of my bum.

Conversations, words, and jokes

Here is a snippet of the things John the boy says:


As he walks sleepily into my room, first thing in the morning:

John: I had a bad dream.

Me: What did you dream about?

John: Funny guys were tickling me.


If he senses that I am mad or upset or frustrated with him:

John: Are you happy?


As he yawns, and strains to keep his eyes open when we are driving:

Me: Are you tired?

John: no.

Me: Are you a little bit tired?

John: no. (30 seconds later he is asleep)


In being tricked not to say no:

John: no.

Me: yes.

John: no.

Me: yes.

John: no.

Me: no.

John: YES!


Here are some words and their translations:

Grasberries = rasberries
Bacuum = Vacuum
Vroom = Broom
Candles = Sandles
Yittle boy who yives down the yane = Little boy who lives down the lane
Gwink = drink
bejables = vegetables


Here are some jokes:

Ba Ba black sheep have you any Cheerios?
Yes sir, yes sir three bags full.

Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are
Up above the world so high, like a monkey in the sky...


I love it.

In common

The four of us were the best of friends.

We traveled Europe together, went to University together, had late night talks about old boyfriends together. We were like four peas in a pod.

Ten years later, some of us are married, some of us have kids. We see each other still, from time to time, and when we do, I realize how different we really are. How different our lives are now.

One of us did not marry, did not have kids, did not end up living in the same city as the other three. The others did. Two of the others married very financially successful husbands, and now live in very large houses, each employ a cleaning lady and neither work outside of the home.

The third other, is me. Sometimes I feel different from the two others, in that they have money and options, and a certain status financially that I do not have. For the first time tonight, I felt like I was in a different, I don't know, level than them. Different class. In the Jane Austen version of the world, I may not be a "conexxion" worth maintaining. I did not like it. They have the financial ability to do certain things that I cannot do, or probably never do. They own gigantic houses.

This difference is not one that is due to personal professional success. In fact, neither of them are really working right now, where as I am. The difference is solely due to who they married. Had either of them married differently, they could have been more like me.

I am not really jealous, I just feel sort of silly sometimes in the areas of the conversation, when they talk about the interior designer that they have coming in, or the landscape designer, or the cleaning lady, or all the new furniture they bought. I don't have that in common, and they have that in common with each other.

So it is silly really, it should not matter, but it kind of bugs me, since we started off all as equals in University, and now we are just not. I don't know if they judge me, or feel sorry for me, I am sure they don't, yet it still bugs me. I am tired of having to justify in my mind that our house works for us, that it has many good points that offset the fact that it is relatively small, that I would rather live here, with all the side benefits, than in a gigantic house somewhere else. Would I really? Or am I just justifying it, given that there is not really a choice. Well there is a choice, but that would mean having a mortgage again, and possibly having to work full time, and most importantly, having to do all the little things around the house that make it your own, like painting and landscaping and hanging new closets and sewing new draperies, and everything that it has now taken us almost 6 years to do. So no. I don't really want to move. Or maybe I am just justifying it again.

And I don't really want to be that large scale consumer that leaves a large scale footprint on the earth, due to my large scale house.

Or so I tell myself.

Really it should not matter. But I still sometimes secretly wish that we were more the same, that we all had more in common. It is the common-ness that makes you feel connected to this world, to other people, to friends.

He's Sick

Why is it that when I am sick, I still get up at 7:00 am with the kids, make breakfast, lunch and dinner, and still manage to be somewhat cheerful throughout the day? When he is sick, I receive a grunt to my "good morning", and then the silent treatment until he leaves the house without saying goodbye.

Annoying.