Neglect or Love? The Daycare Question
By Charles Tanowitz
Three mornings a week I perform my most difficult task as a parent. It's not the midnight feedings we had when Alex was a newborn. It's not changing dirty diapers. It's not baby proofing the house.
It's leaving him at daycare.
He's actually in an interesting daycare situation. He stays with a woman my wife has known for years, who recently opened up an infant daycare. She takes just two children a day, and only until they crawl. Her idea is that children who are that young need plenty of attention, but often don't get it in other situations because the squeaky wheel gets the grease. The kids who move around get all the attention while those who stay where you put them can be left alone.
She is a loving woman who takes wonderful care of him. He is in the best hands. Yet leaving him is always difficult.
It's not that he cries when I leave. In fact, he's usually smiling. But every day I bring him, I linger in the kitchen, talking and playing with him, until the last possible minute when I have to go back to work.
I work from home, but I need the time without the baby in the house to get actual work done. I know the daycare is necessary and he's with me two days a week, but it doesn't make it any easier.
To listen to the politicians and conservative talk show hosts, you'd think those of us who choose a daycare option are evil parents, that we don't care, and that we want other people to raise our children. I've heard us referred to as who people want the big house, fancy car and all the extravagances of life, and wear children as a fashion accessory.
That's not true. But there are certain realities of life. It's expensive. We don't live in a huge house, we don't drive fancy cars, we don't buy extravagant things, we don't go on vacations, we don't buy a lot of jewelry, but still, bills mount. Not working is not an option.
Ellen and I both felt very self-conscious when she went back to work. Maybe it was just us, but we felt like people were giving us sidelong glances, as if we were neglecting our child. But we both had to return to work and not just for financial reasons. Ellen is a lawyer, and believe it or not, she enjoys working--she likes the intellectual stimulation and the challenges her job brings each day. How could she give that up? How can society preach that women are equal, only to tell her that she should dump her four years in college, three years in law school, and years building respect in the law profession after having the baby?
So three mornings a week I pack Alex's lunch, put him in his little jacket, load him in the car and drive across town to where another set of loving arms is waiting for him.
There are sacrifices we have to make. When Alex does something for the first time, we may not be there. When he utters his first word, it may be for someone else.
But he still looks at us as his parents, we get his special smiles, and we get his love. And we're giving back as much as any parent could. But we sometimes have to go to work too.
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