Kind of a Little Pissed Off (Maybe)
Disclaimer: If you are fortunate enough to stay home with your children, please either skip this post or read with an open mind. I am a working mother. This is how my life is right now. If I wanted to adjust my lifestyle and change it in a way that would allow me to stay home with my kid, I would do that. However, I choose to continue living the way I live and The Way I Live requires me to work. Please do not scream at me or judge me for choosing to put my kid in daycare. Just go read something else.
Disclaimer B: This post was written in IE which does not have an awesome spell checker like Firefox so you are now privvy to the fact that I SUCK at spelling and most of the time make-up words that I only change when FF tells me via its squiggly red line that, for example, squiggly is NOT a word. Consider yourselves warned.
I absolutely love our daycare. The program is fantastic, the families are great, the teachers are all certified teachers, it’s clean, green, etc. I’m confident knowing that my kid is in good hands during the day and that it’s just not a place she goes to be kept alive while we work to feed and clothe her. The one weekday I do keep her home with me I question if she’s in the best care because I’m always trying to do 70 other things and I can’t devote as much time interacting with her that I know she gets at school.
The last couple of weeks I’ve been noticing litte things that irritate me. I don’t know if I’m just all of a sudden noticing, or I’m going through a sensative (HA!) phase, or if I just have a bug up my ass about having to work so I’m looking for reasons to get mad about leaving my kid. It’s hard to judge whether or not these are real concerns.
The two main teachers in Lyla’s classroom are great. I like them a lot. They love her. She always smiles when she sees them. I’m never sad leaving her in their care. However, I’m not naive in thinking that they are the ONLY two teachers in the room all day every day. I know they take breaks and I know other teachers that Lyla may not know as well come in and out. There’s always a different one there at night when I pick her up and this is where most of my uneasyness (is so a word) is stemming from.
Situation The First:
When I picked up one night this week there was one teacher in there and four kids. This is within state ratio, no issue. Two of the kids were toddlers and two babies – one baby being MY baby. The other baby was having her diaper changed, my kid was sitting on the floor in front of the mirror playing happily with some plastic rings and the two toddler boys were trying to climb on a chair. I scooped my kid up and held her while I gathered her stuff, the whole time watching the two boys compete for chair space. Then one of the boys tried to push the other off the chair and when he did that, two of his fingers landed in the other kids mouth. Guess what happened next. Even though I was standing right there I couldn’t move fast enough. I just watched in slow motion as the one kid chomped down on the other’s fingers as hard as he could. To the point where his head was shaking.
Now GRANTED, the teacher in the room had a baby up on a changing table that she couldn’t exactly leave to pry one’s fingers from the other’s mouth. When she asked why one was crying, I explained what happened and she made the other boy apologize and give hugs.
No report was written.
No ice was given.
She eventually walked over and checked out his fingers. There wasn’t any broken skin and the little boy had long stopped shrieking and went to find something to play with.
About three minutes later, The Biter’s mom showed up.
Nothing was said about the biting.
Why did this bother me? Would I want to know if my kid bit someone? YES. Would I want to know if my kid was bit? YES! So why didn’t she say anything? Would it have been too much work to do an Incident Report and put something on record when she knew the boy’s Mom was going to show up any minute? This is what I’m thinking, but it’s still irking me.
Situation The Second:
I got stuck in traffic last night and arrived to pick up just TWO minutes before they would’ve officially closed and I would’ve been charged an arm and four toes to pay a teacher to stay with my kid. Naturally she was the last to be picked up from her room and she was in there alone with again, a different teacher, one of the non-regular baby room teachers. I expected this (as heartbreaking as it is to be The Last One Picked Up) and was hoping I’d walk in to see her playing one-on-one with the teacher getting some undivided attention. Instead I found her sitting on the floor with a book by herself.
The teacher was packing up our things. And while this was a REALLY nice gesture and she said when I walked in, “I just didn’t want you to be rushed.” and I’m thinking, “Honey, I have no where to go. You’re the one that wants to get out of here so don’t take me for a moron” (Such negative thoughts when you’ve been sitting in traffic for almost two hours). But I just smiled and said, “Thanks.”
I walked over to pick up Lyla and OMG. She STUNK to high holy heaven. I also noticed she had her jacket on. Well, it wasn’t really a jacket, but it was a button up sweatshirt that I put on her that morning before EHH took her to school that should’ve been assumed to be a jacket and not part of her outfit. I thanked the teacher for putting her jacket on and she said, “Oh, she had that on when I got in here.” This made me think the kid had worn her jacket all day.
Upon closer inspection I noticed some spit-up on the shoulder of said jacket. I figured this was where the sour smell was coming from so I pulled the jacket off and jammed it in her bag. I glanced at her daily report sheet and saw she’d been changed at 4:30 – over an hour before I got there, but good enough to make it home so off we went, me thinking I’ll just change her when I get home.
When I put her in the car, her leg felt wet. I brushed it off thinking that when I washed my hands when I got there, I didn’t dry them enough and some water got on her pants. However, once we got home, I realized that was all wrong. I changed her only to find a monster poop. Sour smelling, leaking out of her diaper. HORRIBLE. And my heart sank.
How LONG had she been sitting in it? Could she have done it in the car? Maybe, but the smell was there when I picked her up, didn’t go away when I tossed her jacket, and her leg was wet before we left. GRANTED (again with the GRANTED) these were all things even I chose to ignore, but did the teacher ignore it too? She was the ONLY BABY THERE! Had she been paying attention to her and not just letting her play on the floor while she packed my bag to ensure I wouldn’t dawdle in there, the kid might have had a clean diaper when I got there.
Ugh.
So yeah. Those are two things bothering me.
Here’s the thing. I’m so scared to say something to either one of her regular teachers or to the director, because I’m terrified that they’ll get pissed at me and take it out on my kid. This is totally ridiculous, right? Totally? I shouldn’t think that. They’re not allowed to discriminate. They have to treat her just like any other kid. If I’m concerned, I should say something.
And then again, are these issues really worth complaining about? I mean, it wasn’t my kid that was bitten and Lord knows I’ve been in a situation where I might have left her in a dirty diaper for a little longer than I should have.
Oh help.




