So this week has been epic in terms of daycare and kindergarten stuff -- I got offered a daycare spot for my daughter, turned it down, because I am insane, in the hopes that a different one will come up at the right time at the exact right centre ... all I can think is that I've become delusional because the idea of turning down a good spot at a good centre is insane in this city. So here's hoping that the spot I am thinking will come open, will do so, AND that we will be offered it. I am perhaps too optimistic for Vancouver.
However, I DID get the kindergarten call I had been waiting for, and I have my orientation (not his. Mine.) set up for later this month. I asked the lady on the phone if I should have a one-on-one meeting with the teacher as well, and she kinda paused. "It's not that he's got special needs," I hedged. "I just want to know if I should chat with him about my kid now or if he prefers to meet the kids first." She opted for the latter, which is fine with me. Maybe setting up my kid for expectations isn't the best way to go.
* * * * * *
I spent the better part of this week with my mother, first at her house and then at mine. I find having her in my space is stressful, mostly because every suggestion she makes feels like a criticism of the way I do things. Oh, I get that that is MY problem, not hers, I'm merely explaining my stress. Plus similar to my in-laws she cannot just sit and play with my kids, for instance, she always has to be DOING something. In that light, I did learn something that illuminated our differing philosophies in child rearing. This year, despite my many complaints about it on this blog, I have been trying to make sure I get time home with my son as well as my daughter. I work full time, this is my one chance, really, to spend more time with him. And so lots of other things don't get done. The house cleaning, for all I bitch about it, for one thing. So yeah, I complain about my kids driving me crazy, and I complain about the messy house, but I also realize that my kids are only little once. The messy house is a messy house, I can clean it now or I can clean it in five years, it'll still be here. My son wanting to spend his time with me is fleeting.
But my mom, in coming over to my place, was all "We need to get things done! Let's take The Boy to daycare! You take him most days, right?" And I said no, he stays home some weeks several days, as many as three. "But you need to get things done!" she gasped. "And you're already paying for it!"
Well, yes. I do have things to do. I am paying for it. But my kid's childhood is more important than money and a clean house.
* * * * * *
The house, incidentally, is a mess. Hope his childhood memories aren't entirely of living in squalor.
No comments:
Post a Comment