DAYCARE DELUSIONS
Lately, I have been frequently asked if my only just 3-year-old child is going to daycare? And if not, will he be starting soon? I don’t fully understand the pressure of sending my child to daycare. Why is this so important? I did not attend daycare as a child, nor did my husband or any of our siblings, cousins, etcetera. Granted our mothers stayed at home full-time. I say mothers, because in our days it was very rare to have a stay-at-home-dad. However, in modern times, my husband does not get asked questions about daycare, they’re all fired at me. Guess times haven’t changed that much and women are still the ones held responsible for taking care of the children.
That being said; I work. I have a business to run together with my husband. I’m physically present at work 4 days a week and work most nights and weekends behind my laptop. So where does that leave my child? I leave him with family. My parents, my husband’s parents, our sisters, those are the people that take care of my child. Because that’s where he belongs. With family.
There was such a thing as fake feminism back in the fifties, where women were ‘finally free’ to join the workforce and make their own money. To become less dependent on men. Yes, that sounds lovely. But taxing two incomes in one household leaves little extra. And with all the inflation over the years, we now work for two incomes that were once equal to one income. Well played, Mr Government. Now you have us women working twice as hard, both at work and the home front.
Back to daycare. I have two close friends who work in daycare. They’re wonderful mothers who make great teachers. But that’s the thing, right? If you leave your child in the care of someone else, they are going to teach your child things that you did not. I can’t do that. I can’t have my child have opinions and mannerisms that were formed by someone else, someone outside of our family.
If there was one word to describe my and my partner, the word ‘unconventional’ would certainly come up. We’ve always done things ‘our way’. Ever since we were very young, we did not walk the beaten path. And I also did not give birth to a child, only to have him put in the system as young as possible to shape his brain to become another good little hard worker that fits the system. I will not let society shape him. I want him to think for himself, ask all the questions and look for answers wherever he can find them. So next time you wonder if my child is in daycare, the answer is no.
I don’t have an opinion on families who do send their children to daycare. I think they are trying the best they can to make a living with little support from direct family. They might live far away from them, or they might not be around at all. In this day and age it is impossible for women to not work, because most men simply do not earn enough to support a family – and vice versa. Daycare is a solution to this problem and I thank the wonderful women who work in them and help us raise our children. You are doing a fantastic job. I am simply asking you all to not have an opinion on the job I’m doing.
DECEMBER
It is Thursday afternoon, almost 4 o’clock. I have poured myself a glass of Champagne from a bottle that was opened 3 days ago at work. I strongly believe you should never pour Champagne down the drain – and so I will drink it. My son is sitting next to me, eagerly cutting out figurines from his favourite cartoon. I’ve made us a healthy snack – popcorn. No sugar. No salt. No flavour whatsoever. We both love flavour. I grab a bag of chocolate from the cupboard. Chocolate in the shape of letters that has traveled to London and back with us only last week. It feels like months ago. It was a short and sweet visit to one of my favourite cities – especially around Christmas time.
My darling Tully twins from Scotland came down for a quick visit. It’s been over 10 years since we spent serious time together in Australia. But they feel like family. We call, we facetime, we see each other every few years. It’s a bond that never fades. We had dinner at The Pelican and drinks in random bars in Notting Hill. It made for the perfect Christmas setting. Now that our little holiday break is over, I feel it’s time to plan the next trip – got to keep moving. My son and I went to the local bookshop to buy the last Christmas present [the one for grandpa] and I picked up a travel magazine of Italy.
I could have gone for a Provence one, but I was drawn to the cover photo of the Italian one. I usually don’t buy travel magazines – it’s such an old school thing to do. We have the internet; we don’t need magazines. But I love them all the same. I will happily purchase fashion magazines, trashy magazines, food magazines – just as much as I love reading a paper book. I’ve NEVER read an e-book. I just hits differently.
We finish the chocolate letters – two each. It doesn’t hit our sweet spot. My son grabs a chair and pushes it toward the cupboard. He finds an old chocolate Easter bunny. We decide to eat the ears, but not the face. He puts it back in the plastic box and saves it for later.