Where is that child’s off button? says a lady
who’d been watching Q hoon around without stopping the entire time we were out
to dinner.
We don’t go out to dinner with
Q as a general rule. Because generally, it means we spend the entire time
chasing after her, as at 14.5 months the concept of sitting at the table for
the duration of the meal is thus far beyond her comprehension.
On the upside, it also means
you drink less as your champagne goes flat while it sits waiting for you, and chasing
her up the street is almost a guarantee you’ll miss dessert.
Dinner out the cheap, low-cal way.
Q is quite a social being. The
result, I suspect, of us having spent the first 4 months of her life at my
parents’ home while we waited for our apartment to be ready. A home that was
also housing one brother and his girlfriend who had recently moved back from
overseas.
Two parents, two grandparents,
an aunt, an uncle and an endless supply of visitors means Q is conditioned to
think everyone on the universe wants to play with her, and is, in fact, one of
her greatest fans.
Come the beginning of next
month, we hope to be the owners of a space that is soon to become our
restaurant. Following a refit that will no doubt take longer than we hope, we
will then launch ourselves into the culinary world, five nights a week and both
days of the weekend.
Initially I will be working all
those shifts.
And doing the books.
And writing this blog and
another one for the restaurant.
And hanging out with my
favourite girl during the day.
And signing up for an anxiety
attack by August I suspect.
Am I insane?
Do I always try to do too much?
Will this cause the remaining
hair that didn’t fall out from breastfeeding to leave my head forever?
The answer to all of the above
is likely a resounding yes.
So what to do?
Whenever Q and I are out in
public, (which is most of the time because our apartment is really tiny and she
gets cabin fever by 7.30am) she is constantly stalking other kids, making
friends with strangers and flirting with old men. She loves ‘em. Particularly
if they’re wearing calf-length socks.
Like I said, she’s a social
being.
And now that she’s got a few
words in her repertoire, punctuated by several yells and a couple of grunts,
she can generally make herself understood.
She loves an adventure, she
loves new things and she adores putzing around discovering.
In short, she would probably quite like day-care.
For a couple of hours, once a
week anyway.
But can her mother let her go?
It’s quite a juggling act to
plan a restaurant opening when you only do work when your baby sleeps. Given
that somewhere in that time you have to sleep too, (not to mention do the
laundry and make countless vegemite sandwiches) it is obvious to see where the
holes in the plan are.
I’m definitely not ready to
leave her all day. Call me what you will, but that fact isn’t changing.
As it is, I would be that
neurotic mother who handed the carers (all trained professionals I am well
aware) a list of Q-isms to help them better understand my girl.
That list would include but not
be limited to:
·
when she wakes from
her nap, she usually wants to snug for 15 minutes at least
·
she’s currently off
banana but a huge fan of plums
·
she’s taken to
pulling off one side of her nappy and walking around like John Wayne
·
she likes to
whisper in your ear and tell you secrets
·
she doesn’t like to
hold your hand when she walks, even when she’s crossing the road, which (by the
way) I don’t want you to do.
·
She’s never had
juice. Can that remain the case please?
·
She likes to play
dress-ups. Don’t be alarmed if she puts something on her head, entirely blocks
her vision and walks around. You can’t really tell the difference between her
vision impaired walk and her regular one anyway, but don’t worry, she’s only
run into a wall once.
·
She is an Atkins
hater. Give her carbs and she’s happy.
·
Her mother will
have you on speed dial and is likely to ring every four and a half minutes to
inform you of other completely incidental information that she will think is
absolutely crucial to her child’s welfare and well-being.
Mostly, I'm aware no one can love her like I do, which automatically makes this mother think no one could care for her as much as I do. Likely that's true, but it doesn't mean she wouldn't be cared for.
Jeez.
If child-care centres could,
I’m sure they’d screen the parents before accepting the child. I bet an anxious
mother is way more work than a 14 month old.
I’ve been thinking about this
for quite some time, particularly as I watch friends with similar aged children
suffer the guilt and withdrawals as they return to paid work.
Gregory and I are determined to
give Q a happy and relaxed childhood.
While that may not mean the
best of (or even most of) the latest everything, it does mean her parents need
to be happy and relaxed too.
I went to primary school with him. I like to think that makes us friends. |
Opening a restaurant doesn’t
sound like a particularly relaxing activity to anyone, (except perhaps Cadel
Evans who rides up European alps for a living) but it will make Q’s father
happy.
Happy husband, happy wife,
happy mama, happy life.
But can I do it?
Can I give my darling girl to
strangers, even for a few hours a week, so I can help get my husband happy?
Ugh.
The battle in my heart and mind
rages fiercely.
Think I’ll delay it again and
make myself another cup of coffee.
Miss Noams,
ReplyDeleteWhy dont you try and find occassional care? Its more flexible then daycare, you can book in for just a couple of hours at a time and change your days each week. The one near us lets you start by just leaving them for half an hour at a time and our one certainly felt more like leaving Chrispy with some loving, caring, trained in first aid aunts then day care!!!
xxxxxx vic
I think that could be the way to go lady. I'm stalling on even investigating, but putting it out there in a public forum is the first step i suspect! xx
ReplyDeleteHey Naomi, I understand your dilemma. It's one of those things (and I've plenty experience on the matter) that you delay, procrastinate on, feel guilty about... and eventually take the plunge. Once you do, you'll ask yourself, how did I ever survive without it. Trust me. Mum of 3, soon to be 4, running 2 businesses and managing our own super fund. Survival is learning the most basic skill of surrendering and asking for help. Good luck and if Miss Q is as social as it appears, the transition is going to be harder for you than her. XX Michelle
ReplyDeleteMichelle, how do you have time to read my blog???? But thanks very much for doing so!
ReplyDeleteI'd love 4 kids, I'm one of 4, it's fantastic. Not sure we'll get there though, but congratulations to you lady. Super fund...that is on the to-do list...in the next millennium. Yes, it is going to be far harder for me, I know that intellectually. I'm getting braver by the hour...xx
Hi Naomi - another option is Family day-care. A small number of children in a warm & friendly home environment who can listen to your list of what Q's routine is. My tip though if you go with this option, is find out what they have planned and SPY!!! There are some good one's and bad so word of mouth is the best referral.
ReplyDeleteIt's a mine field out there ladies! And sloothing and lies seem to be standard.
ReplyDeleteAm i cut out for this?
We'll just have to see.
Thanks for your reading and comments ladies, tis a controversial issue at best.