Part II of the Day Home Saga

A little forwarning here: I am suffering from a severe lack of sleep (Isabella is sick), so parts of this post or maybe all of it may not make sense to the average reader.

Weeks and months ago, I imagined the worse thing about putting Isabella in a day home would be that she would like someone else better than me.  And maybe it still is, but that would be a very different kind of pain than what I'm going through now.  While she was still at Monika's, it was causing me all kinds of anguish knowing that she was with someone she hated, but at the same time I felt a little...gratified, maybe? secretly happy?.. that she loved me best and I had the power to make her happy again.

It obviously wasn't working out with Monika.  Last Monday Monika called me at work.  She was at her wits' end; she couldn't handle Isabella anymore.  I could hear Isabella crying in the background.  Luckily, I have a boss who empathises with my situation, and she let me leave work early.  When I got to Monika's, I found out that Isabella had been waiting by the door all day, hoping that it would open and her mom would be there to take her away from that horrible place (Isabella's words, not mine).  When she saw me she held her arms out wide and ran towards me saying "hi mommy" in a tone that said "I was in the pits of despair but now I am saved!"; she gave me a tight hug.  

Monika, in a very roundabout way that was hard to follow, let me know that she wasn't happy with the situation.  And who can blame her for that?  I wouldn't like to be saddled with a kid who cried all day either.  Plus, her husband works nights, and since he couldn't sleep through Isabella's crying during the day, Monika had a cranky husband, too.  We decided we would keep Isabella there for the rest of the week, and if the situation still hadn't improved, I would look for another day home.

That was Monday.  

Tuesday morning Rob called Monika to let her know what time he was going to drop off Isabella, and Monika said she wouldn't take her.  Just like that, in a matter of minutes, we were out of a day home.  I was working full time, Rob was in school full time, we have no family in the area.  I was already at work when this happened, so Rob had no choice but to stay home from school.  He stayed home with her all week while I frantically looked for a day home that had availability right away.

Now, while I'm incredibly stressed out, I don't feel as bad as I did before.  I know that Isabella is with someone she loves and is not being traumatised.  It also feels good to be able to do something.  My search has been fruitless so far, but at least I'm not sitting at work agonising over something I can do nothing about, like I was when she was at Monika's.  I'm out searching, meeting with people, asking for advice, following leads.  All I need now is to find the right place.

I need a Brigham Young moment, where I can say with confidence, "This is the place."

You Asked For It...

...so here it is:  Isabella's first day at her day home.

This was last Wednesday.  To facilitate dropping off and picking up Isabella, Rob and I bought a beater a couple weeks ago.  That way if I have to work late or too early or whatever, Isabella can still be picked up.  We only have one car seat, though, so at first whoever dropped her off would then drop off the car seat at the house, so whoever was picking her up could use it (we have a better system now).

So on the Wednesday in question, Rob dropped Isabella off at Monika's house before going to school since I had to work early.  I was a wreck at work.  Isabella is very... I don't know the right word.  She loves her parents, and has a hard time getting used to anyone else.  The few times we've left her with 'strangers' (to her), though, she's cried for a few minutes, then gotten down to the business of playing and/or making a mess.  So while I was nervous about how her first day would go, I was mostly confident that it would work out.

It didn't.

I had to come home from work before picking up Isabella so I could grab the car seat.  Rob was home already, and told me that she was playing happily when he snuck out.  Good, I thought.  However, when I pulled up in front of Monika's house, even from across the street I could hear Isabella crying.  When she saw me, she ran across the room with her arms held out so I could hold her.  It took a long time for her to calm down enough to stop sobbing.  Her face was red and blotchy, her breath came in ragged gasps.  While I cradled my little girl, glad to have her with me again, Monika told me about her day.  It turns out that as soon as Rob left and Isabella discovered that neither of her parents were there with her, she freaked out.  She neither slept nor ate the whole day.  Just cried.  And cried.  And cried.  She tried to push Monika away whenever she came near enough.  I find Monika to be a very nice lady, and good with children, but for some unfathomable reason Isabella has taken an intense dislike to her.

Isabella clung to me for the rest of the evening (indeed, she hasn't stopped clinging yet, I nearly always need to be holding her now).  And while she clung, she ate.  And ate.  And ate.  It turns out that not eating for nine hours leaves her ravenously hungry.  She has a hard time sleeping now, too.

The next two days were more of the same.  I had had hopes that she would get used to it, maybe even enjoy playing with the other kids.  Now?  I don't know.  Friday morning as we walked up the steps to Monika's house, Isabella pulled back and clung to my leg.  I picked her up and continued on, and when the door opened, the waterworks started.  She held tight to me, her head buried in my shoulder, saying "no no no" over and over again.  When I put her down, ruthlessly pulling her little arms away from my neck, she howled like I had ripped her heart out.  I know I had mine.  I drove around the corner so she couldn't see me, but then had to pull over so I wouldn't be a hazard to the other cars on the road.  It was awful.  I've decided Rob will have to drop her off from now on; I can't go through that again.

So now I'm in a difficult place.  Ideally, Isabella will get over her aversion to Monika and I can continue working full time without the guilt of emotionally traumatising my child.  It was suggested to continue with Monika for another two weeks, but I don't think I could make it more than one.  So if the situation does not significantly improve in the next week, we'll look at other day homes.  Someone, maybe, will be similar enough to me that Isabella will be a little more comfortable there.  If not, I may have to only work in the evenings when Rob is at home, or not work at all. 

Whatever happens, I trust that we will find a way to make it work.  God will provide a way for us to eat and our child to be happy, if we are willing.

The Misunderstanding

Six days from now is Isabella's first day at a day home.  As I said before, I'm trying not to think about it.  However, when I got home from work yesterday Rob said "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"  Like an idiot, I opted for the bad news.  It turns out that Monika, our day home lady, had called and said "she hadn't heard from us" and had therefore filled Isabella's spot at her home.  That was it.  I was confused, outraged, and slightly panicked.  I have been in regular contact with Monika's dayhome agent, have signed the contract even, so how in the world could Monika think I wasn't coming?  So there we were, six days from needing a day home, five of which we would be out of province.  That left us a single day to find a new dayhome and get the papers signed.  Maybe it's possible, maybe it's not, I don't know.  But it would have been incredibly stressful.

My day at work had been insanely busy.  So to hear this on arriving home... I needed to yell at somebody.  I called the dayhome agency, struggling to keep my voice even as I asked what the heck was happening.  Marlene, with whom I had signed the papers, was just as confused as I was.  Apparently she had talked to Monika only the day before and everything was all set to go.

To shorten a story that is starting to get a little long-winded, Marlene called Monika to find out what was going on.  It turns out it was all a misunderstanding.  Monika had gotten a call from someone needing temporary care, and she thought she had to take this other child in place of Isabella.

So I still have a day home.  No need to rush frantically around today trying to get something else arranged. But while everything may be straightened out now, I'm still left feeling rather put out.  Maybe I was secretly hoping for the day home to fall through so I'd have no choice but to stay home.  Or maybe I've just been so stressed out lately (which I have) that I need the release of yelling at someone.

I am really looking forward to this long weekend away.  A few days with family sounds perfect.

Full Circle

It's happening again.  A situation I had hoped never to face again is staring me down.  Let me explain.  Back in March, when my maternity leave ended, I had to decide whether to go back to work full time or part time or not at all.  Financially, the smart thing to do was work full time, since Rob is still in school and money isn't exactly growing on the bush in our backyard.  But I couldn't face the prospect of letting someone else, some random stranger, raise my little girl.  So in the end Rob and I worked out a schedule where we both work part time, switching off so one of us is always at home with Isabella.  It means Rob and I didn't see each other very often, but it's worth it; Isabella is being raised by her parents, the way it should be.

Now, however, that's all over.  In a couple weeks Rob's classes resume after the summer break, and he'll no longer be able to watch Isabella during the day while I'm at work.  He'll also be cutting down on the number of hours he works so he can concentrate on school, which is good, except he won't be bringing in much money.  That left me with three options: One, continue to work part time and put Isabella in a day home when necessary.  Two, only work the evenings when Rob is not working.  Three, work full time and put Isabella in a day home full time.  None of them are appealing.  The first two don't leave us with enough money to fill our stomachs (did you know that partime daycare costs the same as full time?), while the third means ripping my heart our and freezing it for later.

Anyway, after much indecision I finally decided that I needed to just not think about it, and do what I have to do.  I called around and made a few visits to find a day home, all the while trying not to think what it would mean.  How long will this other place be where she spends most of her waking hours?  One year?  Two?  Five?  Will the day home lady give her the attention she needs?  Teach her?  Love her?  Worse, will "mommy" become an empty word to her, the name of that woman who puts her in bed at night but she otherwise never sees?  How many firsts will I miss?

But I can't think about all of that, or my heart will burst, I'll break down crying and I won't be able to enjoy these last few days that I have with her.  I have to take advanatage of every minute, drink in every every smile, because very soon I won't be there to see them.

I'll do what I have to do, but this is torture.

For my Grandma

A little over a week ago, July 30 to be precise, my last surviving grandparent passed away. Grandma Genevieve (my mother's mother) was an incredibly sweet woman who always had a smile and a kind word for everyone. While I wasn't able to attend, I heard from those who did that her funeral was packed with people from far and wide to say goodbye to their friend. What I remember best about her is her garden. As long as her health allowed her, and often even when it didn't, Grandma was out in that garden, planting, weeding, watering, gathering. I loved eating what came out of that garden; everything was so full of flavour, so the way all fruits and vegetables should taste. I often made a lunch of tomatoes and cucumbers, lightly salted. Ymm!

My Grandma was kind of like her garden. There was nothing artificial about her, she was a genuinely lovely person, and everyone that knew her was better for it.

I don't have a lot of experience with death, and my feelings on the subject are all a jumble.  That's why it's taken me so long to write about this; I had to sort it all out.  This is what I've come up with:  First, I'm sad, because I'm essentially a selfish person and I'll miss her.  Second, I'm somewhat relieved.  The last few weeks, and maybe years, of her life were not pleasant for her, and it's good to know that she's not in pain anymore.  Third, I'm happy.  Happy that my grandma's dead?  Not exactly.  I'm full of joy and gratitude beacuse I know the Plan; I know our loving Heavenly Father has a place for her.  Death is not the end.  I'll see my grandma again.

Genevieve as a young woman

Grandma is at the back left, my mother in the middle

Left to right:  My dad, me, Isabella, my mother, and Grandma, only weeks before she died

Eight Years

Have Rob and I been married too long? No, of course not. So what, then, does it mean when we woke up yesterday morning and said Oh it's our anniverary today. We should do something. It's not that either of us forgot this important day, we didn't. But after eight years it just isn't the same anymore. Sure we'll do something special for our ten year anniversary, but eight?

As it turned out, it was a really great evening. When Rob got home from work and said "Are you ready to go?" I assumed we would just grab a bite somewhere. We had Isabella with us, so it's not like we could go to a fancy restaurant or anything. Then he made sure we put sunscreen on. Okay, so maybe a picnic? It was a gorgeous day, sunny and really hot. Perfect for a picnic. But we drove right past our regular place. You may be wondering why I didn't ask Rob where we were going, but perhaps you don't know Rob. He loves tormenting me with mystery, giving very vague hints which are always misleading anyway. At first it worked; I was tormented. But after several years of this, I kind of gave up. I let him have his secret, and instead torment him with my seeming indifference. It's awesome.

Anyway, a few kilometres and several hints later (none of which I gave credence to) we parked downtown. I could hear loud music, so there was obviously some event going on. It made me wonder about my favourite summer event here, Taste of Edmonton. Had we missed it already? I voiced this thought, and saw a nearly concealed smirk on Rob's face.

Ah.

Taste of Edmonton is a brilliant idea. There's a large square in downtown Edmonton, and now it's completely filled with the booths of dozens of local restaurants. Each restaurant offers two selections, usually one main course and one dessert. So hundreds of people jam into the square, trying new foods and enjoying old favourites, listening to the current band, looking at the street vendors wares and perhaps having a caricature drawn.

So Rob and I stuffed ourselves with good food and enjoyed the sun. We tried to get Isabella to go wading in the fountain (don't worry, that's what it's there for) but either the cold water or the sheer overwhelming-ness of the situation did her in, and she refused to go anywhere near the water after the first step in. It was hilarious seeing her cling so tightly to Rob that he couldn't put her down in the water.

We also had an artist do a caricature of Isabella. He made her look about 40, but it's still pretty cute and a fun thing to have done (first time for me).

After a few hours we were very hot and tired. So on the way home we rented a movie and just relaxed. Isabella even went to bed early.

And to my honey bunches I'd like to say: thank you for coming up with such a fun evening for us! Happy anniversary darling, I love you!