why i love daycare

I've been thinking about writing about daycare for a long time but needed the inspiration. I found it this morning. It's timely. First, because my sister's just recently decided (after being back to work for a month and barely working a full week due to sick kids) to get a nanny and pull the girls out of daycare. Secondly, because this decision, led to questions from my daycare-friend-moms about whether I ever considered doing the same.

Short answer. HELL NO.

Do I understand the benefits of nannies? HECK YES. We had a live-in nanny growing up (because we were loaded rich - LIE - my mom was a nurse and my dad worked for the city), and she was AWESOME and I turned out freakin' amazingly. :p Do I judge you for keeping your kids at home? NOPE. Do I worship you for having the balls, patience, energy to be a stay at home mom? UNDOUBTEDLY. I couldn't do it. Working makes ME a better Mom - the time I get with Jane is SO precious, so valued, that I am always present - I mean not just in the room! (ok, not always, we'll say 95% of the time - I'm pregnant for crying out loud, I'm only 60% present in this world at any point because the other 40% of the time I'm in la-la-land).

So. Daycare. Oh, the controversy. So many people for, so many people against. Drama, drama. All nuts if you ask me. With everything, I say - DO WHAT WORKS FOR YOU - and judge not what works for others. Or, at least, keep it to yourself. :p

Jane's been in daycare since she was 12 months old. I remember our first visit to the daycare when Jane was maybe a week old for our tour. No idea why we went on the tour this early but we did. MISTAKE. You know what you're like a week after your first child is born... um, can we say bubble wrap? Walking through a daycare, envisioning your one week old there, is a little challenging... I hated it. I think I cried because I couldn't imagine every dropping my BABY off to this crazy, dirty (not really but it's daycare! There's crap everywhere!), insane place. Little did I know that 12 months later, this is what my house would look like. :p Twelve months later, I was happy to drop her off. She was a walking, talking, silly monkey and I couldn't keep up with the mommy guilt that I faced daily because I worried I wasn't doing enough to help her develop, that I wasn't doing enough to keep her busy, that I was just passing each day away, waiting for the day to be over instead of enjoying every moment.

Since then, she has blossomed. She is learning SO MUCH. She has close friends that she loves, and I love, that have been with her since the very beginning. It's consistency. It's routine. It's peace of mind for me.

I remember last Spring, driving in the car with her. I was trying to teach her how to count to 3.. So, I'm repeating over and over "1... 2....3.... can you count to three Jane?". She counts to ten behind me and I near go off the road. So. Here's a confession. I didn't teach my daughter to count, daycare did. I also didn't teach her her ABCs, daycare did. I reinforce these things at home and, by God, Dan and I have taught her a lot, but THIS is why I love daycare. The teachers are educated child experts - they know what your child is capable of before you do. Good teachers reinforce the lessons you are teaching at home - manners, discipline, potty training, everything.

But here's the key. You have to build a relationship with the teachers. If you don't talk to them, if you don't tell them your concerns, your priorities, everything, then how the heck do you expect them to get the best out of your child? Every morning I drop Jane off, I talk to her teachers. I tell them if she had a good breakfast. I tell them if she slept well. I tell them what kind of mood she's in. I tell them if she's been doing well with using the potty. Anything I can tell them that will help them better understand my child, I do.

Aside from what Jane learns, it's how she's developing that I love. I can give a lot of credit to daycare for this. Jane was a little shy when she was younger. She still is with adults a little but, with kids, no more. For example, this weekend we went to this family roundup at a local farm. Jane immediately gravitated to another girl her age, trying to talk to her, playing with her, and running to sit with her when we went in to eat. She didn't hang at my side. When her friend went to a spot at the table for lunch, Jane went with her friend, not with me. I loved it. I was so proud of her. I was so happy to see Jane confidently approach and try to make friends with another child. It was one of those "my baby is grown up" moments. Daycare exposes Jane to different kids all day long, all the time. Yes, she is in a room with pretty much the same 11 kids every day. But, every once in a while, a kid leaves, a new one comes, and everyone has to adjust. Plus, when they are outside playing, there's a ton of kids of all different ages. It makes me so happy when I show up to pick Jane up and see her playing and talking to another kid who I don't even know! :)

What I also love, that I know others hate, is that every 12 months or so, the kids are moved to a new room and, thus, get new teachers. Is it an adjustment, yes. But, do I feel like it's beneficial? HECK YES. Fact is, Jane is spending as much time at daycare as she is at home. So, the people who are teaching her and in the "teacher/mommy/guardian" role are having a huge impact on who she is, who she will become, what she learns, etc. Do I want one person impacting who my child becomes or a variety of people? Personally, I like a variety. Jane learns something new from every one of the new personalities and styles of teachers that she has to adjust to. I love that she will be influenced by many different people over the course of her four years in daycare. If she spent the day with someone just like me, then she would turn out just like me, and as perfect as I am, I don't know if I (or Dan) could handle another person just like me! :p tee hee hee. I also feel that this structured change is a great preparation for school which, scarily, is just right around the corner. Not technically. But, time flies! Once this baby in my belly is in daycare, Jane will only have ONE YEAR left of daycare before she starts SCHOOL! OMG, OMG, OMG. Don't even get me started on how I'm not going to handle that.

So those are the main reasons I love MY daycare. I've heard horror stories. I know it doesn't work for everyone and for every child. Are there things I don't like about daycare, yes. There are things I don't like about chocolate - the calories mostly - too. But I still prefer it. :)

I wish I could see what Jane was doing all day. Once. Do I think the daycares with webcams are smart? Nope. Sorry. I bet the parents think it's great when they sign up. To me, checking in on a snapshot of your child's day is inaccurate and just plain crazy. Imagine the guilt if you check in an see your child crumpled on the floor, screeching? HOW DARE THEY! WHAT DID THEY DO TO MY CHILD! What you missed was your child whacking another child across the face with a toy. A snapshot is not accurate or fair, in my opinion, although I understand the draw of feeling a part of your child's day. There are sometimes I wish I could see how Jane was interacting and what types of things she likes to do during the day. But, often, when I  pick her up, I'll watcht her as long as I can before she sees me and I get a glimpse of this. Sometimes it's good - when she's singing or reading stories to her friends. Sometimes it's bad - like when she's crying in the corner BECAUSE she's just been disciplined for flooding the bathroom by leaving the sinks on and spraying the water everywhere (tee hee hee).

K, cutting myself off. I'm pretty sure I've been writing for an hour which means this post is super, extra, way-too long. Face it, you don't tune into my blog for a short, concise blurb....

PS - Coming tomorrow - a guest post from a real, live, daycare teacher - I'd say one of the world's best, in my opinion - with tips for surviving daycare and getting the most out of it for you child!

lazy potty trainers

Admittedly, Dan and I are what we've termed "lazy potty trainers"... this may not be the best term. Technically we're more like laid-back potty trainers.

Fact is, when everyone else's kids were starting potty training we were living in our second of three houses within a four month period. It wasn't hap'nin. I would talk to Jane about it "big girls use the potty", "do you want to use the potty", etc. but she constantly said "no" and I didn't push it. Plus, I'm pretty sure the number one rule for doing any sort of training with toddlers is to do it when life is "normal" - not when you're moving, not when a new baby is introduced, not when they're sick, not five things at once and so on.

She didn't show much interest really until 3-4 months ago. And, it wasn't so much interest as it was willingness to sit on the potty and get a treat.

Want to know what our key to success has been though, as of yet, the fact that we haven't made a big deal about potty training. We haven't pressured Jane. We haven't made a big deal about HAVING to pee on the potty. If she wants to wear a diaper, we try to explain to her that big girls don't wear diapers, but if she really insists, we don't fight it. If she wants to be naked, then let the woman streek, I say!

Parent's can screw up a perfectly good kid by freaking out about potty training and trying to keep up with the joneses. Personally, I don't give two craps about the joneses. They probably hate each other. :p

So, Jane's not currently 100% potty trained. I would say she's like 70% there. I would also say that a lot of the initiative has come from her. We've always asked, probed, and tried to talk to her about it and if we tried hard, she'd use the potty for us. But, now, she seems to be taking it on herself a little bit. She's telling me she needs to use the potty. She's telling me her diaper needs to be changed because it's dirty - a BIG step as up until the last week, she would sit in her poop forever if you left her.

Today was the first day I checked her daycare book (where they track what she ate, peed, her BMs, etc. about her day) and she had POP and BMOP all day (peed and pooped on the potty). WOOT WOOT! I told her how proud I was of her and that I was so happy she was such a big girl. She was obviously proud of herself. They pointed out to me that she pooped on the potty. This is apparently a big accomplishment. However, Jane's been popping on the potty since the beginning. Guess what? We've never made a big deal about it. We've never TRIED to get her to poop on the potty. We've never forced it. And, so far, she's always just done it as if it were the same as peeing. No biggie. Pooping on the potty seems to be the holy grail. I'm not saying we've clear the hurdle, but we're at least not starting from scratch.

SO is lazy potty training the best way to do it... Lord knows, I have no clue. Probably (very likely, definitely) not. But, it's working for us so far. KNOCK ON WOOD. I'm going to start knocking on wood every time I say anything that suggest things are going well. My husband, who's the least superstitious person I know (curses us every time by saying "she'll have a good nap today" or "she'll sleep late tomorrow for sure"), told me Sunday morning (after two mornings of 4am wake ups due to a cold) that I cursed us by writing about sleeping last week. So, I now evoke a constant KNOCK ON WOOD clause for the blog. Cause, I can't do 4am mornings when I'm pregnant. Or ever. Which doesn't say much about the fact that I'm pregnant and when this little person comes out 4am is just going to be one of many wake-up times.

If I have any advice about potty training to pass on its FORGET listening to other people, ignore the people who tell your their kids have been potty trained since 8 months (these people are aliens and are likely lying) and take it EASY. Take it easy, please. If parents should take advice on everything, it should be take it easy. There's a reason they don't make diapers for 10 year olds...

sick days

roses are red
violets are blue
i stink like barf
i think it's in my hair... 

dan, dear hubby, don't bother calling me to tell me this doesn't rhyme and makes no sense. The fact that it makes no sense and is completely dry is the whole point darling. It's called feelings. The women will get it. And, that, my dears, sets the tone of this post. ha ha!

Won't be writing much tonight... mostly because I'm still sitting in clothes that has dried barf on it, I have one of three hundred loads of laundry I've done this week in the washer ready for the changeover, I have two poptarts in the toaster calling my name and I've got 50 pages left of one of the girly-porn books I get myself addicted to in the read-it-all-in-24-hours style (girly porn = nora roberts novels, not seriously porn).

Here's the worst and best part of sick days. Jane has stomach flu. You never know when it's gone. Yesterday she was in the best mood. We went for a walk in the woods for some fresh air and I though, for sure, it was a one-off throw up instance. Then, she throws up after "supper" (barely any soup). Then she throws up right before bed.

So, I email my boss who is literally the best in the world. And, as usual, he responds with his unbelievably supportive and NON-I-should-never-have-hired-a-mother reply of "take care of your daughter, take all the time you need". And, yet, as a working Mom, I'm left with complete guilt. For those of you who don't have kids, it kind of feels like the same guilt you used to feel when you were in school and used to fake-sick to get out of a shift. I mean, technically, I am not sick. I am their employee. Not Jane. And, yet, I've never called in sick to work because I, myself, was sick. And, yet, I've racked up my share of sick days in 18 months. And, what's worse, is the not knowing how long I'll be off and the pressure I put on myself to be back within a day. And, the fear, that I won't be. And the fear that, worse, after Jane's done being sick, I'll be granted permission to begin barfing everywhere - hopefully I can avoid the shag rug which didn't fare so well today and, let me say candidly, is an effin' bitch to clean. I considered throwing it out altogether as it was near hell to clean it properly, while trying not to ruin the hardwood floor beneath, while trying to keep a curious, naked, cold, 2-yr-old who wanted another "pwetty dwess" while wanting to scrub the floor with mommy to stay on the "couch island". Oh, and trying to keep the cat, who I then realized had no food for god knows how long, from eating the thrown up mr. noodle soup off the floor. Fantastic.

You can say what you want, especially if you don't have kids, but it's part of the Mom code that we generally get first call when it comes to staying home with the sick babes. Partly because the babes always want their moms when they're sick. Partly because we probably wouldn't trust the dads to fully take care of our sick babies as we would. Partly because it's "expected" despite what we want to believe about the evolution of women's rights or whatever you want to call it. And, partly, because if I left Dan home with a sick Jane, he would, no doubt, get sick too and for some strange and suspicious reason, when he gets the same bug as Jane, his seems to hit him 50 times harder. Jane can have the stomach flu and go for a walk, be cheerful, be fun. Dan is on his death bed talking with that whining, raspy voice as if the stomach flu has cause his vocal cords distress... don't get me started. :p

Anyways. As I said, you never know when it's going to end. Today, despite being grouchier than normal, Jane was fine - no fever, no vomiting, nodda. Course, she ate nothing. But, we made a deal yesterday. If she drinks a lot of her juice, I won't check her temperature or give her medicine - most moms don't need a thermometer anyways to know that their babe has a fever. So, she ate nothing all day but 1/4 of a tim hortons bagel this am. This afternoon, I find a box of Mum-Mum crackers for babies - those ones that basically disolve on your tongue. So I offer them to her. She ate like 8-10 packages. Then she had some more mr. noodle soup for dinner.

So, ten minutes later I'm on my hands and knees cleaning out her reading tent because after ducking my head in to see how she was making out, I realized at some point in the past few days she must have had an accident in there and the thing smells like an outhouse in july... and I turn around after satisfactorily disinfecting the tent to see her standing, tense, and vomiting silently all over the shag rug. To which I respond as any mother does and hug her, letting her vomit all over me, because I don't want her to be scared.

And it starts all over. Tomorrow is another day. Another day away from work. Another day of hoping, praying for everyone's sake that Jane is vomit free for the entire day.

Here's a few pics of my love bug on our sick day walk yesterday afternoon... so sweet.

lucky, lucky, lucky

It's a snowy, rainy, overall yucky day here in eastern Canada... shocker I know.

I just got back from my spending four hours at my sisters house... punishment for her telling me to pick Jane up early because the "roads were bad" when, in fact, the roads were fine. So I called her and said "what are we having for supper? I'm coming over because Dan's out tonight for frisbee and I'm not entertaining this crazy two-year-old for the next four and a half hours and the roads are fine by the way..." We had ribs. Yum.

I'm feeling lucky today. Lucky to live in a warm, beautiful home. Lucky to have a job I love where I am surprised regularly by the support and understanding I get from my boss and colleagues. Lucky to have a sister with a slow cooker who can read a recipe fairly well (Nanc, I'm leaving out the part where you were asking about how to "cut the batter" when the recipe said to "cut in the butter"). Lucky to have a daughter who makes me laugh and love soooo hard. Lucky to have a husband I only want to kill half of the time. Lucky to have the will power to refrain from strangling the kitten who just jumped onto the couch leaving claw marks in my arm.

Some of you may know, but we just moved into a new house in the Fall. Since then, the number one question I get from people I haven't talked to in a while is "hows the new house?!?!?" And, honestly, I fake it. I tell them how much we love it, how great it is, how it's everything we wanted and needed and more and blah blah blah. Truthfully, I could give a damn about my house. Is it beautiful? Yes. It is our dream house? Yes. It is more than we imagined? Yes. Would I care if it was gone tomorrow? Nope. I'm thankful that, since having Jane, I've realized that all this "crap" we have... means nothing. If you don't have your health, if your child is sick, if your marriage sucks, if you don't have happiness, a house ain't gonna make you smile at the end of the day. So I appreciate the things I have but I can't really say that I'm peeing in my pants to talk about how great my new house is. I pee in my pants... but it's usually only if I sneeze, cough or laugh really hard. OH, and if I decide to randomly do jumping jacks, which thankfully I've learned to avoid. :p

Yesterday, I went to a restaurant for lunch to do some paperwork and planning. A nice restaurant. I had an $11 salad and bread dipped in olive oil and balsamic vinegar. And, while I was upstairs eating at this fabulous place, an armed robbery was going on downstairs in the mall. When I left the restaurant, the cop cars and ambulances (no one was hurt) were pulling up and I was half considering snooping at what was going on but wrote it off as a fight or heart attack or something (you know, nothing exciting... I know, I'm going to hell). When I got home last night, I saw the news about the armed robbery. Downstairs and six stores over. That's the closest I've ever been to a gun. That's lucky. I'm lucky to live in a country that the closest I've ever been to a truly dangerous weapon in thirty years is downstairs and six stores over...

This is your nonsense for a yucky Friday that I am so happy to have shared with my family and beautiful baby.