I try hard to be professional. I’m accredited by the National Association for Family Child Care, and I attend seminars on everything from safety and nutrition to planning kids’ crafts and smnmer activities. I encourage the children’s efforts, no matter how sman. I help junior to help himself, to take responsibility for his belongings, to learn countingand the alphabet, to feedhimself and to share. In return, I am offered a small hand as we cross the street. I’m asked to tie a shoe, dress a don or examine an invisible wound. We share a laugh, a story… a childhood.
Parents should understand that I, like themselves, need to earn a living. As a self-employed person, it’s up to me to keep myself busy. I am legally permitted to have a certain number of children in my home, and ff I don’t have them, I’ll feel it in the wallet. Thexefore, when a mother fails to arrive as scheduled, or breezily calls two hours late on Monday mornLug and announces that little Arlene won’t be coming to day care this week because her great-aunt from Rhode Island has just arrived and will be eating for her instead (for free), I have two choices. I can swallow hard and say, “Oh, OK. Well, thanks for letting me know” (which is what I used to do), or I can have parents sign a contract at the beginning of our business relationship, stating that they win pay me a fixed amount per week each Monday, whether they bring their child or not. This is what my son’s preschool does, because the school doesn’t have a paying customer temporarily to fill my son’s slot if he can’t go to school due to family vacation or illness.
That brings to mind another problem. It’s just not reasonable for parents to expect me to care for a sick child. I don’t have the facilities or an extra person to handle the job, and it starts an exhausting cycle among myself and the children of passing germs back and forth. When I call parents and say that their child is feverish or vomiting or has diarrhea, I expect the mother or father to come and get him, not ask, “Wen, what do you want me to do?” I realize that illness is unpleasant and ineonverdent, but it is for me, too, and for the children in my care. Surely I can’t be expected to send the other kids home when one child is sick. I would like to suggest to parents that they make some backup arrangements or a few vacation days should be held in reserve should someone need to stay home with a sick child.
I had to laugh the other day when a friend dropped by at lunchtime. She looked around the table and smiled to see the little ones eating their nutritionally balanced lunches, complete with milk to drink and fruit for dessert. “You’ve really got it made,” she said. “I would love to be able to work from home the way you do. I work with greedy, selfish people all day long, and I hate it!” Just as I was about to respond, a fight broke ont. “That’s my bunch of grapes!” “I had it first!” “Aaaugh!” “She hit me!”
“OK, OK,” laughed my friend. “Point taken.” Yes, I work in conditions that are sometimes less than ideal. I vacuum two or three times daily. I wipe noses and bottoms, repair broken toys and hurt feelings, and occasionally I’m spit on by my clients (though usually not intentionally). It’s surprising, though, what an odd idea parents sometimes have ofwhat I do all day long (though they are most emphatic in saying that they, themselves, could never do it). I’m sure they don’t mean to be hurtful when they remark with displeasure at a fresh bandage (“What happened? Weren’t you watching him?”), a ketchup stain (“This was a new outfit!”–then why did she wear it to day care?) or glance around, silently disapproving of the scattered toys, cookie crumbs and books (or so I imagine). It is always delightful to hear a compliment or a word of thanks at the end of a 10-hour day instead of complaint.
I bring these issues to light because I’ve had the distinct impression that I’m thought to be a nanny, “the help,” if you will. I’m not. I am a self-employed businesswoman. If I’m selected as a day-care provider, the child win receive excellent care and individual attention, will watch no television, will be served nutritious meals and have a variety of activities, both active and quiet, that are appropriate for his age. IfI were a nanny, employed to watch a child to exact specifications, that would be one thing. But working parents can’t afford to spend that much money on day care and bring their children to a group caregiver instead. At my house, I make the rules, set the policies, decide what I will and win not do. I would like my clients to respect my needs and accept the fact that outside of hiring Alice from “The Brady Bunch,” they’re going to have to meet me halfway. I’ll try to be flexible, too. Otherwise, I’ll be out of business! There are, after all, plenty of home day-care providers to choose from.
Sometimes I envy these mothers. I see someone drive up to my home in a car much newer than the one I drive (is it paid for?). Their work dothes are fabulous compared with my home-issue sweats and tennis shoes (do you have to dry-clean that?). Most parents have a more upscale address than I do. But I wonder who really does have it all? I am inclined to think it’s me. The person who answers my child’s questions is me; I have lots of time to hug him, tell him stories and listen to his naptime prayers.
I have thought of escaping to corporate America on days when yet another area on my rug absorbs a spill, yet another complaint is aired by a picky eater, when a parent arrives 30 minutes late and doesn’t call me. But I have learned one very important lesson as a day-care provider that prevents me from leaving my children with sitters while I work away from home: love is not for sale.
