DC is a hard town when you’re trying to meet that one in a million person. The one who is just perfect for you. The one who will really “get” you and your family like no one else does.
And we all wonder why it is so hard… It’s a semi-big city with a lot of people out there looking for their perfect match. There are websites and services specifically dedicated to this. There are friends who want to help. And of course there are unlimited social networking resources.
But in spite of it all, the entire process is like finding a needle in a haystack. So when you do find “the one,” it feels like a miracle.
Unfortunately, not all relationships are meant to last. Some just run their course. But even when it’s mutual, it can still be very painful.
“We’ve both known that this day would eventually come,” I said.
“I know,” she agreed.
“It’s just so hard to believe that it’s over,” I quavered.
“Don’t cry,” she implored.
“I just didn’t expect it to be so hard,” I admitted.
“It always is…” she replied.
After four magical years, it’s over. And so very final.
I just don’t know if I’ll ever get over Gordana. She truly was the daycare provider of my dreams.
But with three small children in full time care, we recently decided that the minimal amount of money we cleared after writing that weekly check just wasn’t enough to justify the lack of time we spent with our special needs child. Oliver turned four at the end of March and we simply need at least one parent to be available to drive him to appointments and create a more structured home life. When your kids consider evenings and weekends to be vacation time from the daycare schedule, it’s very hard get them to listen, take time outs seriously and eat something more than Goldfish crackers for dinner.
Gordana and I broke up a few weeks ago, but this was really my first official week as a stay at home mom. We were at the beach last week, and it’s only now that we’re back that it’s started to sink in. From now on, daycare will be all me, all the time – 24/7 – no lunch breaks, no sick days and no Gordana to make up for where I fall short.
We always said that our daycare provider was magical. She got the children to eat vegetables, take naps, share, sit still for story time and transition from one activity to another without even a hint of a meltdown. We also speculated that she may have just drugged them. Which of course would make me furious. How dare she not share that prescription!
Sadly, there doesn’t seem to be any tried and true prescription for good parenting. Just a lot of trial and error. And patience. And of course love. And while I do have a long way to go before winning any mother of the year awards, I have enough patience and love for ten children (although I’ll just stick with three, thanks).
Not one of my children is easy. Oliver is a special needs kid. One with enough Autism Spectrum behaviors to get us an PDD-NOS label from one doctor. He is huge and strong – and he is very sensory. Life with him can feel like an extended wrestling tournament at times. And his siblings have followed his lead. I can’t sit on the floor without bracing myself for small hurtling bodies and grasping limbs. I often joke that we look like a Cirque de Soleil family (that is if one of them hasn’t cut off my air supply with a choke hold around my neck while I’m thinking it).
Eleanor and George don’t seem to be special needs children (yet), but they are two year old twins. That in and of itself makes them a formidable parenting challenge – but even on their own, they will each give me a ten mile run for my money. Eleanor is one of those two-going-on-twelve girls, and her current level of defiance makes me very nervous about the teen years.
And George…screams. Holy mother – but that boy can scream. I suppose the word for him would be “intense,” but I’m too distracted by the high pitched shrieking to give it much thought. When you worry that the seismic waves emanating from your child’s vocal chords may be causing tectonic plates in the Atlantic Ocean to shift and stir up a little tidal wave or two (apparently DC is close enough to the Chesapeake Bay for this to be a concern)…well, the “why” factor is a bit less compelling as the “please god make it stop” factor.
Yet Gordana always claimed that they were “perfect” for her.
And I want to know how. How did she do that? Joking aside about the drugs – she got my wild animal children to adhere to a schedule. And happily comply. Compliance isn’t a predominant theme in my house – so I will have my work cut out for me.
I can’t ask her to divulge her secret because I’m sure it’s just a simple formula that works for her. One that wouldn’t work for me, because there is no one answer for everyone. Ultimately we all have to find our own way. At the moment, my way seems to involve a bit too much TV and snack food. But I’m working on that.
We love Gordana. But we outgrew her. She only watches small children, so it would soon be time to leave her regardless of our other reasons.
She will always hold a special place in our hearts. She raised our children for several years and taught them things that first time parents such as ourselves might not consider. She gave Oliver a safe haven when at 18 months old, his home was invaded by tiny screaming creatures. She gave my twins other friends when they could so easily have become absorbed in only each other. She gave me a daily break from what felt like a descent into insanity. She gave all of us her years of experience and deep understanding of what children want and need. Cutting the apron strings from this second mother will be hard. For all of us. But mostly for me.
I will always be grateful for the support I had during those first few years. And while I’ll eventually move on and forget the angsty fear of standing on my own two feet (with at least two sets of little hands gripping my ankles), the memory of raising my babies with Gordana won’t fade. I learned a lot about parenting from my babysitter. So in effect, she didn’t just raise my children. She raised me too.