I’m going to try to face one of my bigger fears: I’m looking for new day care for Boopsie.
Now that we have sold our house, and bought a new house, we know where we’ll be living and can focus on finding day care in the neighborhood.
But it’s more than that… there was also the peanut butter incident. Two weeks ago I picked up Boopsie from day care and found out Miss C had given her peanut butter for lunch. And that it wasn’t the first time. This was shocking to me because after a discussion with her physician, Daddy-o and I had decided to NOT give her any peanut butter until after she was two. Yes, it worked out (thankfully, she had no reaction). But Miss C wasn’t supposed to give it to her. And I was really mad. Actually, at first I was just incredulous. Who would give an 18-month-old peanut butter without checking? Urgh. But then I thought about it, and realized it was just another example of Miss C doing whatever she wants with my kid without checking in… does that make me a control freak?
The problem in all of this is that the thought of trying to find day care makes me anxious. Anxious, anxious, anxious. What is we can’t find something we like? What if we find something we think it likes and it’s worse than what we have now? What if Boopsie freaks out and misses Miss C and her little day care buddies?
I’m convinced that day care is the bane of working parents. Ideally great, but also a necessary evil. My kid spends most of her waking hours with someone else (wow, typing that made my stomach turn) — I should make sure I LOVE that person, right?
Agggh. Must go gnash my teeth.