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Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Daycare

Proposed poster (hand scrawled in pink crayon) to hang in local grocery store and bank may read as follows:

Lady in Town opens home daycare.
Its all she really knows. She never finished her degree, which probably has to do with her fear of success and fear of failure issues. On the topic of issues, she probably has a great many. Where a normal person could look at events and quickly categorize them, she has the uncanny and entirely useless gift of mulling things over for years on end. She can take the average monday to friday problem and turn it into a bonified disorder and create drama with very few props and only a slight hint of a story line.

Her brain is multi-faceted and fragmented. This means that she can walk past a stack of fabric scraps on her way to picking up a Robert Munsch story book and get so distracted by their colours and designs that she forgets that she ever invited children into her home to read to in the first place. Hence, when she calls; "Just a minute....", its helpful to think of the Biblical passage that refers to a minute being a thousand years and vice versa. She simply cannot be trusted.

She will burn the last pan of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies every single time. And garlic toast. Having placed said item into the hot oven, her mind will tell her that the task is complete, and she will wander off, distracted by some pattern of light on the wall. In time, she may moan; "Dr Penfield.... I smell.... burnt toast", but by then she's probably scrubbing the bathroom sink with her pants down around her ankles. Having gone into the bathroom to pee, she probably noticed that many life forms have set up colonies and governments in the streaks around the faucet and mirror, so after rising from the throne, she likely has begun to evict them before her bottoms have risen to the level of her own sagging bottom.

As she scrubs, someone begins banging on the door, and she herself fights the urge to bang her own head against the wall. This reminds her of the possibility of other latent disorders and she remembers that she and half her offspring need Dr appointments for various undiagnosed anomolies. On her way to the phone, she notices the stack of information given her by another medical professional. She really should sift through that, make some phone calls, make some decisions and follow through.

But the kids are hungry and the laundry has been hanging in sun and the rain for two days now. All she really wants to do is wander down to the local junk shop to see if there are any more scraps of fabric with distracting colours and prints on them. Then she could wash them and fold them and imagine making things out of them while she is busy tripping over the stack that she folded last week thats sitting on the floor beside the oven.

Right. But I think this was supposed to be about childcare. Right. Okay, so......
About the kids. Hmmmmm...

Right. She's home anyway, so if you needed somewhere to leave the kids because you finished your degree, your kids will probably be happy there. There are tonnes of toys and no one has to be careful about the couches because they are so ugly that she's hoping eventually just to throw them in the trash and find someone else's cast-off that's still in way better shape than her ancient germ-infested lumps. They'll be relatively safe because bad things never happen to her, and she'll never be critical of your parenting style since she's so preoccupied by her own. Sometimes she'll sleep in and not hear you at the door, but then because she's obsessive compulsive, she'll feel so lousey that she'll make you an apple pie and deliver it to your house warm from the oven. And she'll apologize repeatedly. Then she'll wear the guilt and humiliation for so long that she probably won't expect you to pay for the childcare for about three weeks after.

So, anyway. I forget why I was writing this. I think I'll wander down to the thrift shop. Its tidier there.

10 comments:

Brian the Mennonite said...

...and I'm too distracted looking outside at all the things that I want to do but can't afford to do, to help you out inside with the things that you need help doing...sorry...

I did finish two four-year degrees, however.

We're quite a pair, aren't we!?

Heather said...

Have you been reading "If you give a mouse a cookie"?

All that distractability is a strong indication of a highly functioning creative mind. :-)

(That was my best attempt at impersonating a shrink.)

If you lived closer to me, I'd be HAPPY to have you watch my kids. What a fun, creative environment they'd be in!

HeatherCE said...

Were we separated at birth?
This needs some investigating, not like we'd manage to stay on-task long enough to find the answer.

And, I agree with Heather, you have a highly functioning and creative mind.

Bonnie said...

Ok, I know you only take in "little" kids, but mine are available any time!!

Joyce said...

And I'm sure that there's a conspiracy behind people named "Heather" commenting here. Are you trying to add paranoid delusions to my list of diagnoses? But thanks, Heather for still saying that you'd leave your kids here. Currently my young son is dressed in (only)spiderman underwear and is obsesssed with his sisters gameboy. I'm not proud of this. I blame their father. Can I do that?
and Heather2, but what fun we'd have making things while we discussed what-the-h is wrong with us.

Bonnie... I'll baby-sit the puppy for a price...

HeatherCE said...

Well my youngest is wearing only Curious George underware. And she's playing with scissors.
Is this a problem?

Joyce said...

no problem. Scissors are creative. Video games are evil.

Growing up without a television has meant that I have absolutely no sense of boundaries or balance when it comes to screens. I feel intensely guilty about all of it. Probably another disorder.

Judy said...

I believe I have 'disorder disorder'.

EVERYTHING in my world is disordered.

(i have more i want to write, but i am needed to draw balls. by the tone of voice, it's an urgent need.)

Me said...

it is the distraction of pattern that forces me to wander around with a camera in my hand ignoring the children or yelling at them to shut-up or they will get a spanking when they get home and please don't bonk your sister over the head with the wheelbarrow...

urgh...

lettuce said...

i love this post.

i really really like you.
:o)