You know, I try very hard to treat people fairly and equally and I believe very strongly that all people deserve respect and the opportunity of making their lives work the way they want it to. Irrespective of colour, creed, religion, race, sexuality or whatever else that defines someone differently from me.
Then why is it that some cultures make it so hard to do just that?
Our nanny, whom I adored and thought was the greatest blessing to help me look after Baby Girl while at work. Baby Girl adored her and I felt confident going to work because I knew that Baby Girl was being well looked after.
Oh. My. Word. (Actually, I think I used stronger language than that, which is so not fit for use on this baby blog site).
I get this SMS on Sunday night at 20:30 (bearing in mind that I started work on Monday): Sorry Madam, I won’t be able to come back send my love to Baby Girl.
An SMS at 20:30 the night before I’m supposed to go back to work? How about a little common courtesy and give me notice BEFORE Christmas? Or BEFORE going on leave? Or coming to chat to me if you’re unhappy about anything? Or putting your friggin’ phone on so I can phone you to find out what is going on? Or returning any of my SMS’s?
Fortunately, my mom was on leave and was able to help look after Baby Girl on Monday. I took yesterday off to look after her and drive around to find a school in the area (all are have waiting lists for up to six months). I’m back at work today and my mom is looking after her today. I’ll take tomorrow and Friday off, but what can I do about next week? Or the next couple of months?
I refuse to get another carer in – Baby Girl was so attached to her I can’t bear the thought of Baby Girl getting attached to another carer, only to have them do the same thing. I think a school will be better and will provide more stability for Baby Girl. But they have waiting lists. I can’t afford to stay at home (I have been officially looking for work for over a year now) and I have no idea what we’re going to do.
I did go look at one play-school yesterday that had an opening – and if all else fails, I’ll have to put Baby Girl there, but it was awful. It was dirty, untidy, and she lets the kids watch TV all afternoon. I don’t want to put Baby Girl in a place like that. I want to give her the best I can (which would probably be me staying at home), but financially, we just can’t afford to do that.
I have never felt so stuck in all my life and I keep asking God, “when is it enough?” How many more setbacks must hubby and I go through? It seems that just as we manage to pick ourselves up and get somewhere, another tidal wave comes along and knocks us back down. And I suppose we have to ask why – what is it that we’re supposed to be learning through all this that we’re just not getting?
I’m tired of battling financially. I’m tired of wearing my mother’s clothes, because I can’t afford to buy any of my own. I’m tired of worrying about what kind of future we can afford to give Baby Girl. Hubby’s car is 12 years old and is practically falling apart – there is no way in this living world we could even consider getting him a new car. I’m tired of it.
But I feel so powerless to do anything about it. WE work hard, we try to be honest and fair in all our dealings with people, we believe and we have faith, but nothing seems to make any difference.
A friend told me she had a dream about me – she said she saw me standing at a gate looking in and on the other side of the gate were all these beautiful buildings and I couldn’t pass through. I couldn’t get to the other side. And that is exactly how I feel about my life.
I can see the blessings, I can see where I want us to be, I can see all I want for my life, for Hubby and for Baby Girl – but I won’t be allowed to get there.
I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach and that 2011 will be another uphill battle, trying to make ends meet, hoping that we can keep a roof over our heads, hoping and praying we will just make it through – I am so sick of it. When? When will things turn around for us? When????
The Baby Mama