Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Over a barrel, and under a table

*yeesh. edited to add a title. sorry.

Yesterday's post provoked more comments than I've seen since that time I was swearing in both official languages, even more comments than that time I appeared on a cult TV show, got struck by lightning, and revealed my congenital deformity. Seriously. Daycare? It's a big topic. NoMo and Bloor West Mama faced a situation similar to ours; Mad Hatter and Her Bad Mother and Sage are STILL on waiting lists for university day care; Jennifer (ponderosa) longs for Canadian-style family leave provisions in the US and recalls terrible stress and Oh, The Joys, GingaJoy, and Jenifer (R&PG) reassure me everything will be okay; Beck, quite sensibly, is horrified by the financial outlay the whole process requires. Em, regrettably, indicates that this is a transcontinental concern.

The kindness and passion of your responses, and the stories you shared in part have got me thinking thinking thinking about this issue. And thinking about how a while back GingaJoy noted that, strangely enough considering the way the larger media culture portrays motherhood, in the blogosphere the working mommies and the SAHM don't seem to be at each others' throats. So I'm thinking thinking thinking about a post on daycare and homecare and respect for mothers and the choices they make for themselves and their families.

When I get to thinking, stuff like this happens:


Can you see Miss Baby? That's her, the little pink blot underneath the nested end tables. I can tell you she started out in the middle of the room, sitting up, and made her way gradually but inexorably toward the underneath of the end tables. She was going after a cat toy. After having made the big mess of toys you see on the carpet. Her favorite thing in the world right now is to take everything that's in a container out of the container. When she's not looking, I put stuff back in and so she never runs out of stuff to take out. Until I get to thinking. Then situations such as you see above tend to occur. At which point, naturally, I go upstairs to look for the camera.

I will continue thinking, but only when Miss Baby is adequately supervised, or asleep, and get to work on a thinky post. Hm. That's the kind of cheap fun we can afford now that we have to get out the Big Chequebook for our daycare deposit. Yay.

9 comments:

Em said...

LOL!

Mimi - thank you SO much for sharing your thoughts on my privacy concerns. I'm going to take your advice :)

Em xx

Mad Hatter said...

And that's why the media thinks we bloggers make such bad mothers. If it's not the drinkin' it's the thinkin'.

Love that picture.

Jennifer (ponderosa) said...

This post made me laugh so hard. You are so right about the thinkin'. Staring blankly into space can also be dangerous, let me tell you.

Beck said...

I had to really squint to see her, but there she is. Ha.
I don't know how sensible I am, but I am VERY cheap. One of the things that I use as my excuse for people who demand to know why I'm a stay-at-home mom is that if I worked locally, my takehome pay would be a princely $140 a week after daycare expenses. Of course, as true as that is, it's not why I stay home. Still, it IS a bit off-putting.

Bloor West Mama said...

LOL...

Beck. so true. so true.

The things they get into...the biggest problem area for us is the kitchen, if I don't pay attention Isa goes straight for the garbage can and uses it as a playing table.

They are quick little things.

cinnamon gurl said...

Hey, she sits! (I seem to recall you mentioning that she wasn't so into sitting...)

Looking forward to your thinking under safer circumstance ;)

NotSoSage said...

What? You let caring for your child's safety get in the way of blogging? Bad mommyblogger!

Jenifer said...

Ha! I remember "losing" the girls at various points. You put them down with a pile of toys only to return minutes later and they are no where to be found.

I miss those days believe it or not.

mo-wo said...

yeah I know that stuff. I sacrafice a roll of bakers parchment and a phone message from Revenue Canada to the gods of benign neglect last week.