When child care goes right (so far)

We've sampled a wide range of child care over the years. When Ben was born, child care around here was virtually impossible to get. By the time I had to go back to work, I had no child care, so my lovely sister stepped into the breach and became our daytime paid nanny. This was unquestionably fabulous, and we were really lucky to have such an amazing circumstance. She soldiered on for five years before looking after my children threatened to make her childless for life, and was possibly starting to induce cackling.

We then moved to family day care, both because Elissa was only 6 months old, and because I really couldn't afford the larger day care centres. That worked out really well too. Our first carer stopped when she got married and her sister took over. It was flexible and worked well for our family. Then the second carer had her second child, and she stopped too. We couldn't find another carer that met our criteria (could take both kids and wasn't a 30min drive away), so we switched to a group day care.

That's mostly been pretty good too. Charlie didn't like it, but he was also going to preschool 3 days a week, which he much preferred and was where he had made his friends. (Preschool is another form of child care we are very happy with. I love our preschool.) He only went one day a week, so it wasn't so bad. Elissa loves it. She's made lots of friends and clearly has heaps of fun.

However, by the end of last year, distinct behaviour issues were starting arise with Elissa. Not a huge surprise - she had just turned 3, after all. Still, she was becoming more and more impossible whenever she didn't get her way, and "her way" was becoming more and more ridiculous. By the time we started the three week break from day care over Christmas, she was infuriating to be around. We've spent those three weeks re-establishing boundaries, being as consistent as is humanly possible and slowly working towards the point that I don't want to strangle her the moment she gets out of bed.

Day care started back yesterday, so today I had a meeting with the director. I'm always nervous when I have to criticise someone on the way they do their job, and I was not looking forward to this. However, we had a very sensible conversation about Elissa's behaviour and how I felt their current approach to her was Not Helping. The director was .... I think relieved is the best description. I gather many parents at the centre get a little stroppy if the carers are firm with their kids. She seemed very happy indeed that I was asking for boundaries and was more than prepared to back them up at home.

So now we see what happens next. I suspect if my requests are acted upon, Elissa will suddenly really NOT want to go to day care. That's ok, we can work through that - should only take a couple of weeks based on the last three weeks' experience. I'm a little cautious in my optimism though - we're running against the nature of one of the carers, who, in the words of the director "likes to baby her babies".

But still, how nice to be supported and met with appreciation rather than defensiveness! I know child care is a business, but it still needs to be carried out in partnership with parents. It certainly appears they are trying hard to do just that.

Day care update

We started at the new day care centre on Monday. I can't say it was a complete success. Elissa didn't sleep at all and was a horror that evening. Charlie said he'd had fun, but gave a flat "No" when asked if he was happy to go back next week. Charlie also came home without all of his spare clothes. His bag was completely empty. So far there is no sign of said clothes.

Elissa went back on Wednesday (Charlie only goes one day a week) and screamed the place down when I left. Apparently she was crying on and off in the latter half of the afternoon, and still only slept for 45 minutes. This morning she started whinging and refusing to go before we even left the house. That's never happened before. It wasn't looking good. When we got there, she was still reluctant, but when we left, rather than screaming tragedy, we just got hang dog miserable face. I'll take my improvements where I can get them.

This afternoon, however, she was all bubbles and asking when she could go back. Apparently something clicked today and she felt more comfortable. I don't know how long she slept, but at least she wasn't that fragile, irritating child that lack of sleep normally induces.

I'm cautiously optimistic that this will work well. I'm definitely happy to be down 5 lunches a week and only 5 minutes from day care.

Is it 2011 yet?

Monday was ok, I think. I can't actually remember it.

Tuesday at 5:30pm I found out that our child care was ending on Friday, 2 weeks earlier than anticipated. I also discovered that despite months of assurances that they were looking for a new family day care place for Charlie and Elissa, the organisers had not actually started looking until that day. We had missed all the opportunities as new carers had started and kids had moved on to school.

Tuesday night Elissa got croup, so as well as an hour up with her waiting for the steroids to work, she couldn't go to day care the next day. I put off my client and rang around long day care centres. Most of them told me they had 2 year waiting lists. One told me they had places and I went to see them. The only time I could get there was during rest time, so it was hard to gauge much about the kids, but the staff seemed friendly and warm. On the other hand, it smelled more strongly of disinfectant than I would like. It was the only place that was an option unless Family Day Care came up with something plausible, and the woman had not sounded confident.

On Wednesday night, the steroids got Elissa through the night without incident, but Charlie woke with a leg cramp that took quite some time to resolve.

Thursday I got a call from Family Day Care telling me they had only one possibility and it was at the absolute limit of the distance I had originally (2 years ago) specified. That was before I was taking Charlie to preschool as well. Looking at what the drop offs would be like on the 3 mornings that Charlie is at preschool, taking this option was guaranteed to add significant stress to the morning routine. So I now had a choice between two child care options, neither of which I was wild about. And I had 36 hours to resolve it.

Either way, I rushed off to see Ben be the assembly leader at school. After inviting the parents in to the hall with his co-leader, he was looking distressed and then disappeared. Painful moments went by while his co-leader stood in front of everyone wondering what to do. Eventually he reappeared and I was called over. Standing next to the sick bed, his teacher asked him if he was ok, he said "No" and promptly threw up all over the floor.

So I took him home, fobbed off the client again and had an email exchange that resulted in me needing to sack a contractor. By that time I was feeling just about as ill as Ben, and couldn't go to belly dancing. I also needed to make a decision on child care, and decided on the convenient unknown option rather than the inconvenient unknown option. Thankfully my kids are old enough to tell me how things are going at day care, but making such a significant decision with so little time and information is still stomach churning.

Friday morning I finally went to see the much-fobbed client, which didn't go as planned (due to a weird problem whose cause is still only guessed at). This would not have been nearly so bad if Elissa hadn't been sent home from her last day of day care (thereby removing the chance for Charlie and Elissa to say farewell to the carer they've been with for a year) because she was sick again. I needed to call my mother to come from Campbelltown many hours earlier than intended so that Crash didn't need to wake the sick 2 year old to pick up the 4 year old from preschool.

Last night I was going to the Singalonga Sound of Music at the State Theatre (which is why Mum was headed city-ward eventually). To say I wasn't in the mood would be world's greatest understatement. I've never actually seen the movie for starters, so I was already at something of a loss when it came to the audience participation. Add to that the fact that I'd had a splitting headache since 2pm, and the general shittiness and sleeplessness of the previous week, and what I really wanted to do was curl up in a ball. I did ok until someone wanted to know what was wrong with me, at which point I dropped my bundle and went home.

I'd just about got to sleep when Elissa woke very distressed and very feverish, which took another half hour or so to sort out.

So this morning I woke to realise that I had utterly failed to organise baby sitting for tonight.

This week I've pretty much failed at being a parent, a contractor and a friend. Maybe 2011 will be better.

ETA: My fairy godsister waved her magic wand and said "You shall go to the dinner", thus fixing my baby sitting fail. She is a wonderful being.

Won't somebody please think of the children?

Just a week or so ago, I was discussing Mem Fox with some friends, over a copy of "Where's the Green Sheep?". We were discussing that her pro-reading stance is generally a Good Thing, but I expressed some suspicion of looneyism on the basis of her many many rules about reading to kids.

And then this weekend this appeared.

Ms Fox , 62-year-old author of books such as Possum Magic, Koala Lou and Where Is the Green Sheep, told News Ltd she believed society would look back on the trend of putting infants in childcare and wonder "how could we have allowed that child abuse to happen".

"I don't know why some people have children at all if they know that they can only take a few weeks off work," she said.

Mmmmm. I don't know what Mem Fox's definition of infants is, but the Australian Family Association (whoever they are) defined it as less than 2, maybe even 3.

Firstly, I am not convinced how exactly a children's author is qualified to have newsworthy opinions on the subject.

Secondly, while there is real validity in looking at all the various issues of child care - including making it viable for parents to stay home if they want to, and also ensuring real quality care is available for those who can't or don't want to - exactly what is to be gained by such ridiculous, unfounded, inflammatory statements? How dare she condemn a huge swathe of the population as child abusers.

Thirdly, my reading of most of the literature is that good quality child care ends up with different, but not better or worse outcomes than kids who stay at home. I am not sure about the situation for very young (less than 3 or 6 month olds), I haven't read enough to have an opinion. My gut says the answer could be different, but I don't know for sure. And it may just mean "good quality" means something different for very little ones.

And as for that "I don't know why some people have children at all if they know that they can only take a few weeks off work," remark. WTF?

I think I will be less reserved in my suspicions of looneyism in future...

We have a tooth!

I have been just a tad busy, so I never got around to writing the "Thank God for Bonjela" post I kept composing over and over. But as of yesterday it is no longer necessary, as the the little biter made its appearance. So we have a brief interval with a happy baby once again.

I keep forgetting what a lovely baby she is when is not in any pain or discomfort. She plays on the floor for an hour or more. She smiles and laughs and eats and eats and eats. Unfortunately any discomfort at all tips her into unput-downable, whingy, difficult baby.

Also this week:

We started day care since my sister moved on to greener pastures (by means of going back to the same company she left to work for us in the first place). The first day was Tuesday, when I had a 3500 word philosophy essay due in. I dropped them off at 8:30am, and at 10:30am the carer rang me and told me she was too sick to continue the day. *sigh* So I went back to pick them up (another near tantrum, because we need to have a tantrum when being dropped off and picked up). Thursday and Friday went better, whole days, semi-reasonable amounts of sleep. Pretty happy kids. The carer is lovely and Charlie likes her.

The essay did get completed, and I can kiss philosophy goodbye. It's not that I stopped enjoying it, it's mostly that I stopped being convinced by it. The essay I wrote was on the question "Are there really selves?". My answer was "Yes, for appropriate values of really and selves." And then about 3500 words supporting that statement. I just can't help feeling that while it makes interesting pub conversation, it really is just people contemplating their navels waiting for science to answer their questions. And they take it all so seriously, and expect me to believe what they tell me. So I start psychology next semester.

And finally, perhaps the most exciting news, I am no longer a cow! Elissa took a whole bottle Wednesday evening, and so I gave her one Thursday morning and there hasn't been a breastfeed since. Oh joy. Oh bliss. The boobs have not yet returned to normal. They are still sore, but at least the end is in sight. I get my body back for good! Thursday night I celebrated by working until 8pm and then going to a Tupperware party. Sounds riveting, but was actually liberating and the party was fun and wine-filled. I managed to escape having only spent about $100. I fell into bed at 1am.

One of those things they don't tell you

I have spent my last two afternoons having two separate MRI scans to trace the path of the peripheral nerve that leads to the outside of my left thigh. I have a numb patch there, which would be fine if it was only numb, but any pressure at all converts it to fairly intense pain. Charlie's crash cuddles around my legs are less pleasurable than I would like. This is my daughter's gift to me, I acquired it during her delivery.

It is probably Meralgia Paresthetica, the nerve getting irritated on its path through the pelvis. The MRI is to make sure it isn't anything else. The first one was about 20 minutes, the second about 35 minutes. Once I got over the intense fear that there might be some metal secreted within my person that I had failed to remember, it was ok. Until I started to get hot. I was really sweating by the end of the one yesterday. It took hours for my body temperature to go back to normal.

I mentioned it to the radiologist this afternoon, and he said "Oh yes, that happens." It does? Might someone have mentioned that to me? So that at least I didn't think I was either being cooked, or becoming uncharacteristically anxious.

Also playing child care games. My sister finishes at the end of next week. I am looking for family daycare, which I knew was going to be a little fraught. I am having trouble working out what is me being unrealistic and what isn't. The person I saw last night seemed ok, but her unit has a balcony which scares me. They don't have any other carers available just at the moment. I just feel like I am second guessing my motives and reasons, rather than making sensible judgements.