Here we go again

I have been very good about the whole day care situation lately if I do say so myself. 6 months ago I was a neurotic mess, but I've lived through those days of hand wringing, the great bottle propping incident and those few weeks Julie walked around like some strange Frankenstein in dark glasses after an eye lift because I have seen how social day care has made Clementine, how good with other kids. I've also seen how much she really likes Julie and how sweet Julie is with her. Yes, there is some denial on my part in order to make it out the door each day--I have to just let go of the things that they do differently and try to focus on how good this is for all of us, even when it doesn't feel that way.

And then on Friday (why is it always on a Friday?), I popped in early and found a scene so disturbing that I'm not sure how to handle going back. When I pulled up, Julie was hanging some silk flowers on her door. No big deal--I often find her upstairs when I come in because she has some helpers to give her a break now and then. But when she looked at me askance and said "I just popped up to hang this very quickly," I knew I would find the kids in the basement unsupervised. No big deal, I know--I leave Clementine in a room by herself all the time. When I got downstairs, though, I found Clementine in the high chair with Cheerios. OK, you can call me overprotective or neurotic here, but she is 1 year old--I never ever ever walk away from her when she's eating, especially to go to another room where I wouldn't be able to hear the quiet sounds of struggle she makes when she chokes on something.

As if that's not bad enough, the high chair is positioned right across from the giant (and I mean GIANT, as tall as me) television, which is on. I know they watch some Sesame Street from time to time, and I've even stomached some Clifford. We don't do TV ever in our house, but this is one of the things I've made peace with at day care--they watch the tube a bit every day. But Clementine right across from it really bothered me, especially when I noticed it was on the country music channel. Don't get me wrong, I love me some Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn, old school Flatt & Scruggs, and I'll even stomach the Dixie Chicks since they ripped their careers apart standing up against the devil George Bush. But this is not what gets played on the country music station any more than Bloc Party or Sufjan Stevens get played on MTV. No, it is burly men in hats waving the American flag and telling you to leave if you don't like it. And at that particular moment, the video was one about the tough life of soldiers. How do I know? Because there was a montage of injured and bleeding people, soldiers crouched down with weapons, explosions and then rows and rows of gravestones at Arlington. There sat my sweet little girl calmly eating Cheerios and slugging at her bottle, watchin death and destruction on the TV.

Leaving beside my horror at this as a day care environment (but only for a minute), this is why I most object to TV. Sure, part of it is that I think kids shows are insipid, awful brain rot that make kids whine about having a Dora party or shriek in order to have an Elmo doll. But part of it is really how little control you have over what your kid sees when you turn her over to TV. It's not just the advertising, which is awful and can expose kids to all sorts of materialism, not to mention unpredictable and often inappropriate themes. It's the programs as well that can forward all sorts of stuff you may not want your kids exposed to yet. And I'm not talking about Buster having two dads, though I do have the tiniest bit of understanding for those parents who objected to that--not because it's OK to be a bigot but because you should get to have those conversations with your kids on your time). And before I sound even more sanctimonious, it's not that I object to all things you can do with a TV--I object to the live feed and the way it interferes with family time. We are more than happy to know a frazzled sitter can pop in a pre-approved movie (some excerpts of Yellow Submarine, for example), and we love that she watched Pee Wee's Playhouse when she stays with my friend Laura.

To get on to the more pressing issue of my unsupervised and eating child watching the world blow up and all the bloody casualties, I was clearly horrified and have no idea what I said beyond "Oh my goodness, I can't believe you're letting them watch this." There was some exchange I can't quite remember now, but I think I wasn't as strong as I wanted to be. She said she just likes for there to music for the kids, especially because Clementine likes to dance so much (yes, I think she tried to make it C's fault). I was so paralyzed with anger I got the hell out of there and have been freaking out from time to time ever since. I know it wasn't intentional, but this adds up to something that feels less than good. Maybe I was willing to overlook some of this before because Clementine was younger and I wanted to be sure she was somewhere that she would be held and paid attention to. Now I'm starting to change my tune on the whole objection to the day care center. Certainly they don't have TVs, right? But then they have other evils, I'm sure.

I could launch into yet another tirade about how this whole thing just isn't working for me, for us. Both of us working full time jobs is not helping us be the parents we want to be, much less helping us keep up a house, eat nutritious meals and have clean clothes. But I can't focus on that because I fall apart a little every time I do. Instead. I've decided to embrace my non-existent Jewish roots and head out of town tomorrow with my fabulous friend Laura and her son. We're going to celebrate Yom Kippur up north and put off thinking about work, about day care one more day.