Daycare dilemma
I have been going to what I call my “second job” for the last month — I have been touring daycares. As a Vanderbilt employee, I took it for granted that when I had my baby, I would have one of the best daycares in the state at my disposal. Well, Vanderbilt employs thousands of people and its daycare is pretty much the top choice for everyone who have young children — which translates into a good 1 to 1 1/2 year wait for me. I am on the waiting list but have heard some people say they waited for 2 years to get on the list, so I figured I would get a few back-ups.
Little did I know that EVERY three-star (the highest rating for a child care center by the state) facility I would tour — and there have been a good six or seven at least with a couple more to go — would have a wait. And not only would they have a wait, they could not guarantee how long the wait would be and they each required (except for two) varying degrees of money to hold your place. Anywhere from $20 to $75 plus first week of care (around $200). All non-refundable. It’s enough to make you want to cry, well it makes me want to cry, but as my last post attests, even stubbing my toe makes me cry.
My friend Lisa and I have been touring these centers together since she is also pregnant. We’ve seen places I would compare to a Russian orphanage, old dilapidated places and wonderful places I wish I could enroll myself in. And then there’s what we saw today.
Lisa found the place we went to on the state site, which rates all the daycares and shows their location. This place was ideal as far as location: 2 minutes for her, 6 minutes for me — and it was three star, the best. Well, I was surprised when we were driving in a residential area as all the other daycares we visited were commercial buildings, but we found the place and it was indeed a house.
It took us both by surprise, but we went to the side entry and let ourselves in the gate. We were greeted by a very cheerful Glenda-the-Good-Witch lookalike with very, very, very artificially dyed orange wavy, wild hair. She led us in to what looked like a converted sun room and we saw a bunch of very cute children of various ages all piled around each other, with two babies in a baby pin filled with all sorts of random toys and books. I figured this was just the area the kids congregated in before they went outside, but I got the impression as “Glenda” talked with us that this is where they spend all their time.
A very nice man with tattoos all over him was getting snacks ready for the children.
I asked where the cribs were, and without a straight answer I pretty much learned she doesn’t have cribs for the babies. And all the children, regardless of age, spend all day together. “Glenda” was very proud of her high ranking and she spent a lot of time talking about this, but I never could tell what the hell they do with the children all day besides “not encourage them to color within the lines.”
It was all quite strange and surreal and I sorta felt like I was in a gingerbread house fairy tale and I might get cooked for dinner. Anyway, we both left the house feeling very confused and I asked Lisa when we got in the car, “What the hell just happened in there?” It was way too freaky to even appropriately describe.
Last night, I dreamed Chris and went to look at a downtown daycare where all the care providers had some sort of very strange malady or disfigurement such as a melted off face, an arm for a hook, etc. and they were all men, too, holding the babies and feeding them bottles. It almost seems more normal than the weird real place we went to today.