Friday, January 30, 2009

2 years

Sunday marks my 2 year anniversary of opening the daycare full time. Today was so very stressful, with a boy that has a ridiculous temper screaming about every motherfucking thing, and another boy just being damn whiny, climbing on everything and getting into all things he knows he is not supposed to when other parents were here. I have a 2 year old that refuses to count, or answer questions, or do much of anything but stare at me sometimes. Sometimes she's great. My kid started great, turned into a demon, then finished great. The 4 year old was a superstar today.

I am so fucking stressed out from this job right now. It's so personal, having other people's children in your care. Especially when it's in your house. There's no leaving work and driving home. Most of the time there's no leaving the house for days at a time. In the winter you don't even go outside. I don't get breaks, or a lunch break, or time off, except for my two weeks of vacation a year. Sick days require insane amounts of organization, which is wrong. On the other hand, I do get naps. I get to see my little one grow. I get to participate in children growing up, and I get to be home. I can garden while I work.

There seems to be a trend with me and jobs: two years. I have two years of any job in me, then it all goes to shit. I have worked really hard at this one, and perhaps I am not suited for this job? Or perhaps this is just a hump I need to get over. I don't know. But this job is like parenting to the extreme, and parenting to the normal is a hard job. I was hoping by now that the Etsy shop would have taken up some of the slack and I could reduce the number of kids I have to watch, but no. To be fair that was a magical wish, I haven't busted my ass to get the shop popular, etc.

I just took a break and talked to John. Taking a second job is not an option with him in least not a good one. He reminded me that I'm not the children's parent, I am a provider. I am not raising them, I am caring for them. I'm going to call the family with the infant in a few minutes, when this latest temper tantrum stops. It's an infant, but it's additional money for the next 6 months until the baby is born. It's something we can squirrel away in case. Wiggle room.

I feel better! But I'm looking forward to being back on meds. This worrying shit is horrible.

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