The Dreaded Search for Childcare

It seems that I have finally extracted myself from the comfy world of denial. After being sidelined by a nasty cold and banking a few more days under the covers, I finally made the enormous step of emailing my boss. And then I conducted my first interview with a childcare provider. Yes, you read that right. I took two giant leaps forward. And I have had a headache ever since.

Now I don’t want to get too dramatic here. I’m not talking about leaving my son with someone else for nine hours every day, five days a week, like many parents do. I’m talking about two days a week. That’s it. Just two. But even that makes me sad.

I am trying to find a good compromise by working part-time, but I must admit that even this does not appeal to me right now. Perhaps I have become too comfortable in my yoga pants. After all, in my current occupation as mom, I can get on the floor into downward-facing-dog pose whenever I want, and the only person giving me weird looks is my baby. I like the lack of deadlines and the fact that my days are filled with baby giggles instead of media calls. I like library story hour and the children’s museum. I love taking my son to a coffee shop at 2pm or going for long morning walks with other moms. Some days are really tough, but even the worst days are still filled with kisses and snuggles. The thought of driving in rush hour, paying for parking, packing a lunch, attending two-hour meetings, and staring at a computer screen all day gives me the shudders. Especially since the cooking, cleaning, and laundry will all still be waiting when I get home. It feels like I will be adding a part-time job when I’m already working 12-hour days.

But back to the point: finding childcare. Any parent in Canada knows how difficult it is to find reliable, inexpensive, high-quality childcare. In Quebec, the government subsidizes daycare so that parents only pay $7 per day. (No, that is not a typo.) But spots in such daycares are nearly impossible to find. The wait-lists are literally years long. The alternative is unlicensed home daycare, which in this part of the country ranges anywhere from $20 to $45 per day. This is certainly cheaper than hiring a nanny, but these “home daycares” are often just stay-at-home-moms who have decided they want a few playmates around for their kids. There is nothing inherently wrong with this, but some mothers have vastly different parenting styles and values than I do. How do I know that this person is not going to just plunk my child in front of a TV all day and feed him beige, packaged substances masquerading as food?

I realize that no nanny or childcare provider is ever really going to be good enough for me, because they will not be me. But since our family lives on the other side of the country, and flying him back and forth doesn’t seem very practical, I need to find an alternative.

So I interviewed a woman with a new home daycare in our neighbourhood. She was very nice, professional and organized. She had references and menu plans. Her home was nice and new. Her little daughter was sweet and bright and obviously well-loved. There was nothing clearly wrong, no red flags, no real problems. I asked her questions for nearly an hour and left feeling satisfied with her answers. Yet, when I drove away, I wanted to cry. I know, I know. It’s only two days. Some of you are thinking that I should get a grip. But he’s my little buddy, he’s my sunshine, and I don’t want to miss a thing. He’s still just a baby.

But maybe I’m the one being a baby. Maybe he’ll enjoy two days of games and playmates and outings to the park. Someone even told me that he’ll be happier in daycare than at home because he’ll be playing with other kids. I think this is a lie that mothers tell themselves so they will feel less guilty. (Also, could my son really get any happier? He giggles and laughs and grins all day long!) I just don’t believe that he’d rather be in the home of a stranger with six other kids than at home with his momma. Even for just two days a week.

But I have two months left to figure it out. Until then, I’m going to enjoy all the baby giggles I can get.