A debacle of sorts

The rock and hard place are squeezing me tight.

My dear husband has been called back to work and starts next week {Yay!}.  So, after over two months of unemployment paychecks we move back into the realm of real dollars {Yay x2!}.  But, that pill I haven’t swallowed yet called “Full Time Daycare” is stuck in my throat and I think I might choke.

Beckett has been blessed to have been in the care of either parents, family or close friends since I went back to work part-time when she was four-months old.  Working is a personal struggle for me.  I cannot put the words together or explain the muddy feelings or thoughts that I have.  I do know that I like my job.  But, I LOVE my child.

Being the preparation-guru that I am, I have been looking at options for full-time childcare for quite some time.  We knew that Jacob could be called back to work at anytime and I didn’t want to be scrambling for childcare 24 hours before we needed to find it.  I have made the phone calls.  We have toured the places.  We have shook hands and made our rounds.

As you read on, please remember that I am the person that recently beleaguered and stressed over the decision to buy a new car.  A car for God-sakes.  Now, we are talking my child.  My own flesh and blood.  The infant I carried for nine-months.  The child I nursed for a year.  The tot who takes me on a daily emotional rollercoaster as she swings between tantrums and delightful giggles.

My heart aches.

I want her to be socialized.  I want her with other children and adults.  I want my adult-time.

I want to care for her 24/7 and monitor her every waking and sleeping moment.  I want to know everything she eats.  I want to protect her from hurt, violence, germs, fears.

I want to find the middle ground.

The daycare centers I have found are great.  I like the rooms.  I like the people.  I like the structured environment.  I really do.  But, I am struggling to get past two things.

First, the food.

Second, the diapers.

I am proud to say that we are 99% organic and about 70% local now.  No more corn-fed, feed-lot processed beef.  No more fruit from cans or produce that has been sprayed with carcinogenic pesticides.  No more processed food filled with high fructose corn syrup and artificial ingredients.  We have made steps and they are decisions I stand by.

I can’t justify sending my child {my dear, sweet, loving baby} to a daycare that is anything less than sub-par.

Par for me is organic food that is prepared fresh.

Par is the acceptance of cloth diapers and the option of disposable inserts that don’t contribute to landfill waste.

I may not be able to stay at home full time, so I must find a place that’s as close to home as it gets.  And, I haven’t found that place.  The clock is ticking and the alarm goes off Monday morning when I head to work with a tear stained face and Beckett groggy in the back seat.

This blog posting is both a diary entry and plea.  I am sending feelers out and hoping that they reach someone who knows something.

I believe in the mommy-network and I figure that with enough emails, phone calls and internet postings – I will find that close to home, as good as it gets daycare.  I have to swallow the pill even if it is with a plugged nose.

What I'll be missing - a bathing ballerina...

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6 Responses to A debacle of sorts

  1. Virginia says:

    I think Beckett’s Daddy is choking,too. Maybe the blog’s line should be “Reaching out”?

  2. Virginia says:

    Love the rub-a-dub-dub ballerina!

  3. Jenny says:

    Would you be able to send in pre-prepard (by you) food for Beckett to any of the places you looked at? Like a sack lunch?

  4. Ginger says:

    Oh my gosh, I totally missed this post, and so I’m two weeks late to just to give some support. As if it’s not hard enough to be away from your baby, and then you have to fight this fight? I hope you were able to figure something out…

    • sacredbee says:

      The daycare has actually been very receptive – that is after I talked to Beckett’s teacher. She is totally willing to do cloth diapers (yeah!) and I can provide any organic food for Beckett I want (a milk jug is already in the fridge earmarked for her!). So, it’s perking up. It’s still beyond brutal to leave a screaming toddler in the morning or rouse her from a dead sleep at 6:40, but we’ll make do… I work for the school district, so we only have seven weeks until summer. Hallelujah!

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