Monday, 20 October 2008

Choice is not a friend of mine

I start a new job in less than two weeks. The hours fit in perfectly with school. I can drop the 4 year old off and pick her up again, it just doesn’t fit in with the precious time I spend with my boy. I’ll miss our trips to the cafĂ© where he kicks off his shoes and picks the raisins out of toasted teacakes, reading books in a silent house before the school run, looking at quad bikes, road sweepers and diggers on the internet (transport porn) and shaking our maracas at ‘Rhythm Time’. I will not have any one on one time with my boy, my last child, and that makes me sad.

I will still be working part time as before, just more hours spread out over the whole working week rather than just over two or three days. I always wanted to work, but not to the detriment of my children (NB : I’m feeling emotional – on a more rational level I am well aware that my children will not be disadvantaged because I am working). It has always been important to me to work so that we can eat, have swimming lessons, not have to use public transport and not wear half mast trousers … the latter hasn’t always worked out, children grow at an amazing rate. Equally important is that I spend plenty of time with my children before they are propelled into full time education.

I am of course living in the ‘year of shit’ as I affectionately call 2008, so it wasn’t a surprise when just as I was accepting my new position my wonderful childminder gave me notice – she is moving on to pastures new and will be unable to child mind. This is the way things go; good news followed by bad. My unlucky streak has been going strong now for 8 months and I am hoping it will move onto to some other poor unsuspecting soul soon, I’ve had enough.

So, I have been searching for a new childminder. The last time I looked for a childminder I had my pick of nearly eight and several months to think my decision over. Now I have a week and a half, ‘choice’ is not a friend of mine. At times in the school playground I could have been mistaken for a crazy stalker as I pushed small children out of the way and hurdled over pushchairs to question one of several childminders in the school playground that I have been eyeballing. None of the childminders have any spaces (even the scary ones) … apart from one married couple who have been childminding for 24 years and I suspect have a combined age of 130. I worry they may not be up to the challenges I face daily with my bold ‘one speed’ adventurer. Fast is his only speed. On the other hand they may have a calming influence on him; like diazepam on a schizophrenic.

The week before I start work is half term – a whole week of quality time with both children. I’m sure by the end of that week I’ll be ready to let go – if only to release myself from the sound of two whining children.

I just hope that the 2 year old doesn’t finish off his new childminders, giving them a combined age of 130 at death and not letting them get to their silver anniversary of childminding.


The Grocer said...

Going back is always harder than being back, I think that sums up how my wife feels about being back at work after a year off.
Enjoy the hols.

Mary T said...

I on the contrary couldn't wait to get back to work. I was bouncing off the walls like some kind of maniac. I even finished maternity leave a week early, not sure what that says about me. I know what you mean though. I do love my Tuesdays with my boys. Well, when they're not hitting each other with pieces of model railway.

Millennium Housewife said...

Perhaps he could talk them into signing over tehir worldly goods to you, and then see them off. Problem solved, who's working for you babe? MH

Laura said...

I'm liking your style Millienium Housewife ... every cloud has a silver lining?