Learning to compromise

Parenthood, before you know it, is round after round of letting go.

Despite all the changes we are in the throes of, life continues sometimes to be a challenge and none more so than coping with having a child I now hardly see. Since she started nursery, she is frequently asleep almost as soon as we collect her, and evening reading is more and more marginalised. That means that the only time we see her is in the morning, when getting her ready for pre-school. It’s a shock.

So, now, the reasons behind my lack of blogging is that the people getting the chance to read with her are her school-teachers and her childminder. She comes home every night, snoring away, with her little school bag with her new book in that we never get to open together. She has, of course, read it with her childminder. It’s hard, hard, hard to be struggling so much and to have someone else bring up your kids, to have your childcarer changing her clothes because – despite the child wearing 5 layers of clothing – she opening disapproves and undermines you. Your children are yours for so small amount of time – and then they are handed over to someone else. Working and using childcare is the toughest situation I’ve ever faced. Tougher than marriage, that’s for sure, because there can not be two leaders. I have never been good at marching to someone else’s tune, especially when it’s a rubbish one. Time I started to learn I suppose.

Later today, I am sure I will see things differently and a solution will present itself, but just now I feel horribly sad and compromised in almost every area of my life. I’m heading to work, under a golden, bruised sky. I hope it cheers me up.

POSTSCRIPT:

Behind every action is a positive intention.

Maybe, just maybe your childminder changing your daughter’s wardrobe wasn’t in fact her comment on your failings as a parent and judgment of your inability to dress her in weather-appropriate attire. Maybe in fact it was the school practicing the nativity and not putting her clothes back on properly.

This is why these things are best left to reasonable people, like my mum or my husband.

Stick to the books, bookandbed. The UN aren’t ready for you just yet.

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