Today, the childcare director said I can have three days of childcare, starting next week. I felt like she was giving my life back. What a terrible thing to say. Is time with my kids really that bad? Well, yes, some days it is. Of course, other days are great. For example, yesterday we went on a ‘bush trip’ with the local playgroup to a nearby beach. The women made a big pot of stew and pasta, while the men made spears in a small fire. Apart from the fact that R tried to hoard all the biscuits and L had a meltdown over a plastic turtle, it was all pretty relaxed. I enjoyed the time with my kids, seeing them interact and learn and play.
It is the days like today that make me thankful childcare is arranged. Days when I wake up angry and sleep-deprived and things get worse. Kids refuse to eat or sleep, or start having tantrums, or snatch and grab and cry and won’t share. These are the days time goes slow. Every minute, half hour, hour is hard fought and won. These are the days when I wonder that anyone can think childcare could be harmful to a child: a day with other kids and a caring minder has to be better than a day with an over-it mum.
remoteareamum 