After you have a baby, friends, family and even strangers are constantly giving you advice, invited or uninvited. I've even done it myself with my best friend who recently had her first baby. But in all the "angle their backs when you feed them to reduce gas," and "teething tablets are a God send," no one tells you how difficult it is to return to work. I hope this blog will chronicle my struggle with returning to work and trying to balance it all without going crazy.
Leaving your baby opens a whole new Pandora's box of guilt, stress, and worry. I had to return to teaching f five months ago when my daughter, Lily, was six months old. I was thankful I got to stay longer with her than the short six weeks a lot of working moms get, but it didn't make it any easier. First was finding a daycare provider. I signed up for a church daycare while pregnant thinking signing up almost a year inadvanced would guarantee my daughter a slot. Don't laugh at me. I also had no idea that in a lot of daycares, waiting lists are simply used for people they don't know. If your 'in' with someone on the inside, there are no waiting lists. Luckily (or so I thought), a friends secured me a slot at her son's home daycare when my daughter was barely a month old. Yey! Five months before I needed a daycare provided, I had one lined up.
Ooooh noooo, that fell through too, three months before I had to return to work! So there I was back at the drawing board, calling up every daycare in book just to see if they would have an opening. I toured many daycares too. I remember being most impressed by an 'elite' daycare (to remain unnamed) that appeared amazing: super clean, two teacher for every five babies (which most places- it's ten babies to one a adult), a curriculm, nice facilities, and an outrageous price. But leaving there, I felt like they knew what they were doing. I felt like my daughter would be safe there, but the monthly payment was more than our monthly mortgage bill. So I did the research (I highly recommend this). To my surprise, I actually knew two people who use to work there and both told me stories that horrified me. Apparently, I had just received a wonderful dog and pony show. Good thing it was totally out of my price range.
So when all the large daycares turned me away or put me on outrageously long waiting lists, I started looking at home daycares. Called around, got numbers of local home daycares, and so I started down the list. Two homes had openings, and I arranged to meet with them both.
Appointment one: I asked to come around 4 pm. I thought this was smart, because I was hoping I would catch other parents arriving to get their children, and I could ask them questions too. Unfortunately, it would not work out that way. I arrived in a farily new neighborhood not too far out of my way. Pulling up in front of the house, I saw a car with a handicap tag in the driveway. Please don't rush to judge and think I have something against the disabled. My own grandmother is disabled, but when it comes to your child, seeing a handicap tag on the caretakers car can be a bit of jolt, especially not knowing what this disability is and if it could effect your child. So I got out of the car and noticed two young men in their twenties sitting on the porch next door (did I mention these houses are really close to each other?). They waved, and I waved back. Approaching the front door, I saw it had two doorbells and a note taped to the glass, "Please ring both bells." Okay, that's weird, I thought, but not too strange. I rang both bells. Waited. Rang again. Nothing. So I peaked inside the window. I saw a large livingroom set up for children, a little table in the corner, a kitchen playset, a pack-in-play, a swing, but no children, no one. So I wondered, did she forget about our meeting? I pulled an old envelope from my purse and began writing a 'Sorry I missed you' note, just as one of the young men next door called to me. "Hey, lady." I looked up. He approached the driveway. "She's home. Just hang on a minute." He pulled a cell phone from his pocket, and in a just a second a heard, "Hey, Mama. There's a lady on your porch. Answer your door." Okay, so was that the disability? Is she deaf? Great. What if she can't hear my baby crying? Again, don't judge.
The door slowly opens. Remember, I told you not to judge me. Put yourself in my shoes and tell me this would not put you off just a little, especially considering I had made an appointment the day before; she knew I was coming. The lady answers the door in pajamas and a housecoat at 4 pm, and when she smiles at me, I see that all her front teeth are gold, and she has her initials in diamonds on her two front teeth. Well, I can't leave now. I can't just say, "Sorry, I think your deaf, and your gold teeth are off putting, so I'm just going to go." I reminded myself, "Remember that amazing daycare? The elite one? They appeared to be so great and weren't. Maybe this lady will be wonderful to your child, maybe she is the person you've been looking for. Give her a chance."
So I do. I shake her hand, walk in, tell her about myself, ask a few questions. I'm surprised that she doesn't ask anything about my daughter. She doesn't seem interested in her at all, doesn't even ask her age. And the most important thing about finding a care-provider for your child, there is no warm, happy feeling. But despite all of that, I ask her for the homecare paperwork. And here's the kicker, she tells me I would have to pay $30 just to see her rules and regulations. Seriously? I can't even hear about your policies without having to pay you? And here's where it got so much worse, I ask her if she has any references, anyone who currently uses her or used her in the past that I could call or could call me. This totally offends her, and she tells me that she is licensed, and I could call DHR if I didn't trust her. (WTF?) Needless to say, I politely thanked her for her time and left.
Appointment two: The other lady, Leslie, who told me she had an opening wouldn't make an appointment with me. Instead, she said to come at anytime other than 1-3pm, because that's when the children napped. She encouraged me to bring my daughter with me, told me she would love to meet her. Leslie actually answered her doorbell and did not have pjs on or gold teeth. After talking for a while, she even asked to hold Lily, and when Lily tried to share her thumb with her, I knew this was the place. She offered me references without me even having to ask, and come to find out, my husband went to high school with her son. The best thing was- Leslie suggested I come a few more times before I made a decision and stay with Lily for a while to get us both use to the idea. I think we did that more for me than Lily.
And that was it, I had found the perfect place to leave my child. Now came leaving her...
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