Also, I beat my wireless network into submission, and am now typing in my backyard while Oscar practices his colouring skills on the patio furniture. It's pretty sweet, and someday soon I'll show you pictures of my backyard paradise ("paradise" by comparison; "soon" in very relative terms), but today, we're talking about daycare.
I've moaned (a lot) about daycare back when I was working full time in order to pay for my kids to be there. It broke my heart when I first sent Norah (before you and I met, dear blog reader), and it broke my heart when I sent Oscar last year. I didn't want to go back to work; I didn't want the majority of their little lives spent with other people, no matter how great said people might be.
Of course, I got over it - mostly by using the Scarlett O'Hara Method Of Not Thinking About It. We couldn't afford for me to stay home with them, so they had to be in daycare, end of story.
Fiddle-Dee-Dee, and all that.
And it turns out, a few months in full-time daycare didn't kill them, or turn them into serial biters or chicken finger eating tantrum-throwers. They both came home knowing how to flip their own coats on and sign for "more food", so there's that. And some of the women there truly did love them and take a real interest in their little lives (Jacqui, Kaye, and Shauna, I'm looking at you).
But daycare done me wrong, too - I was hassled me about cloth diapers, I was condescended to and made to feel like a pretty bad parent, and the management suffered from such a serious case of Administrative Discombobulation that I worried that it might be catching.
Once, they sent Norah outside to play with no shoes on. In January.
(That's my best outraged parent story. The rest of them are don't translate well into print because they all start with "It's like they think..." or "they act like...")
Now that I'm retired (for a year, anyway...let's talk in February), I jumped at the chance to have them home with me All The Time.
Except Mondays, because Mommy needs to have a few hours in a row to Get Things Done, or possibly Think A Whole Thought.
Daycare done me wrong, but my kids still go.Me and logic, we're like this.
This time last year: Food Waste Friday: Whoa. Just, Whoa.
