Daycare daze

Our little lad Noah-David has been on the daycare train for the last two months. He pulled into the station just a couple of weeks shy of his second birthday. Up to that point he had been loved, snuggled, bum wiped and tickled mostly by his Mom and Dad in his own home.

The switch to daycare days has been tough for all of us. We didn’t just dive in. We took the time for a gradual introduction and it seemed that all was relatively well. Short little bursts with Mom, or caregiver Tomoyo, in attendance for most of the visit were seemingly happy, at least neutral, ruckus free occasions with no cause for worry.

When visits became longer stays with Mom and Tomoyo removed from the mix, tears began to define the daily drop off. There was a constant refrain in a pleading and wavering voice when getting ready to leave the house, or arriving at the daycare – “no garderie papa, no garderie” – garderie being the French word for this unmentionable place.

Joking aside, as I entered the space it was heartbreaking to hear the anguish in his voice. Wiping away the salty drop tears trickling down his cheeks and seeing the puzzled hurt in his unbelieving eyes as I peeled his arms from around my neck and brought him gently down to the floor was a difficult way for us both to begin our days away from home.

The first week was the toughest particularly when we got the reports from the teachers at pick up time. There was one full day of crying with only a brief break in the morning during story time. As the story ended, the tears began to flow. That same afternoon the children were taken to the gym to listen to music. Our wee boy loves to dance and dance he did through a stream of tears and sobs. This crying and dancing image will be with me forever – a young broken heart trying to dance his troubles away.

One change in routine that seemed to help things was walking to daycare instead of taking the car. Pushing the stroller along for a 30-minute saunter allowed us to discover together, to talk, to laugh, to have fun. It was a less abrupt transition, more about being in the moment and less about the apprehension of getting there. The tears were still there on arrival but now they only lasted for a brief spell.

During all this time, maman had the pleasure of pick up duty. Every day when she arrived it was to an armful of ecstatic baby boy thrilled to be going home. This was the part of the day that Noah got to say, “bye-bye les amis”, undoubtedly his preferred daycare expression.

Well maman continues to pick him up in the afternoons and is now dropping him off in the mornings too. She’s one month away from baby number two and on leave from work because of some challenges with the pregnancy. She is gathering her energies and strength for the big push. For maman’s first drop off there were no tears. That was an exception as they came back the following day and are with us still though less intense, less pronounced.

Daycare for Noah-David will come to halt within the next couple of months and he’ll be home full time with his new little sister and maman. It’s likely that he will never go back. This experience has made us reassess our priorities as parents, as breadwinners, as partners. Our new goal is to have a parent at home until the babies are in school. We haven’t worked out all the details yet but we’re confident that we can and we’re sure that we’ll all be dancing minus the tears.

A quick postscript, personal experience has taught me that daycare professionals are warm, caring and loving with their charges. This is what I’ve seen with Noah and with my two daughters. The caregivers do everything within their means to console, cajole, to bring about a smile, to make the daycare space safe and playful.

That’s certainly how it was when I worked in Toronto’s Snowflake Parent-Child Centre Co-operative in the early 1980s. I was only there briefly and I cherished the time. Each of those children needed to be loved – Tosha, Tu, Spencer, David, Michael, Spring Dawn, Nadhezda – some were more loveable than others.

It was a rainbow of a place with all colours of children from points across the globe, some of whom were just learning English. The staff were diverse too - three women and three men caregivers, a rare ratio even by today's standards. It was a place that advocated for childcare and I remember us protesting outside Queen's Park to improve access and funding.

I still have vibrant memories of those small, wee souls who trusted us with their days. I hear their soft voices at play. I still see the bursting excitement at a parent’s arrival. I see their smiles after tears have been comforted away and think of how fortunate I was to share some brief moments full of wonder.

Frog's Out of the Box

Recently, our little lad – notre p’tit gars – said “grenouille”. Both Mom and Dad reveled in this new acquisition, as excited as if he had brought home a tadpole sheltered in inquisitively cupped hands. Grenouille – frog in English – is a bit of a tongue twister so we’re happy that he’s added it to his ever expanding French and English word palette.

Both Mom and Dad are bilingual and words are the currency of our professions – translation and public affairs. We have always known that French and English would be the only way to go with our kids. As parents of a young toddler learning two languages, we’ve embarked on an exciting learning journey and we wonder about the impact this is having on him.

Until we poked around a bit, we shared the popular belief that learning two languages simultaneously would result in some delay in language development. We were pleased to learn that studies indicate there is no such correlation and that a number of other common misconceptions have no basis in fact.

We’re at the 23-month mark and it’s been a mini-explosion of individual words and two and three word phrases for the last few weeks. Everyday there is something new in French and English. It’s hard to keep pace.

Our young guy now regularly speaks about 100 words from each language in his daily comings and goings. Frequently, his words describe immediate needs and desires – “up”, “milk”, “en bas”. Concepts that embrace a wider world are also beginning to emerge. While “kiki” is his word for “collé” – a hug, or snuggle in French, it is impregnated with so much more meaning – it’s touch me, hold me, comfort and love me, a world wrapped up in a word.

For our first 18 months we practiced the one parent one language model. Maman spoke in French only, Dad in English. While Mom was at home this was a very practical approach to ensure a solid grounding in the minority language.

On Mom’s return to work we were very fortunate to find an excellent caregiver to look after our lad in our own home. She is Japanese with an excellent command of English but no knowledge of French. After a couple of months, we felt a need to increase exposure to French.

One parent, one language has been deep-sixed for the time being. We are now speaking primarily in French and have noted an accelerated rate of new vocabulary over the past few weeks. We’re in a smileful, chattery, mimic mode now, a juggling of sounds, words, intonation and gesture, a playful poetic place where laughter and wonder are the norms.

Using our lad’s own words, it might go something like this:

ben oui maman
ben oui papa
kicky ball
gros gros gros drapeau
boat papa boat boat
go go go
maman en bas en bas en bas
un deux quatre
milk milk milk
kiki maman kiki
tam-tam tam-tam tam-tam boom boom
saute saute saute grenouille

Some resources that we’ve found to be fun and useful:

• The Québec public television series Passe-Partout available on DVD;

• ABCs for young children great for hours of learning and entertainment;

• A French ABCs illustrated with children’s drawings;

• A couple of internet sites on living in bilingual and multilingual families.

The best live TV ever

It’s a _______ ‘insert gender here’!

Some couples want to know in advance. Others expressly don’t. Some jurisdictions in Canada will tell those couples who want to know. Other health authorities will not.

Halifax is one of those jurisdictions that just happen not to tell and we’re one of those couples that felt we wanted to know. The first time around we didn’t go in for it but that may be because no such private sector service was available.

Yesterday was the big day. My in-laws were with us for the unveiling so to speak. My parents had accompanied us the previous week for the public sector health care ultrasound. The truly miraculous viewing has been getting shared about.

Yesterday’s star billing was on a big screen TV in a tastefully appointed room. Mom was comfortably reclined on a plush table type device with Dad right next to her. The in-laws had plenty of room on a sofa that shouted out, “relax, sit back and enjoy”. Big brother at 22 months was deep in snoozeland as much in his own world as his sibling to be in the womb. Just the popcorn was missing.

Our MC for the event, the entrepreneur slash nurse slash technician whose deft maneuvering of the magic wand pulled our baby into focus and brought to the fore those developing body parts perfect in their imprinting and awesome in their fragility, has truly found her vocation. Her enthusiasm, her engagement and colour commentary swept all of us along on this journey of discovery. Not that we really needed the sweeping but it was so welcoming and affirming to have her serve as our tour guide. She knew what to say and how to say it.

After some in uterus acrobatics – we have a call in to Cirque de Soleil – and very talented sleight of hand, now you see me, now you don’t, we were introduced to the unmistakable, no coyness, tell all genitalia.

Round about mid-November, we’ll be welcoming a brand new little girl into our arms, into our hearts, into our family. Now after having seen her twice, it’s so much harder to wait to have her with us, to shelter, nurture and love.

We celebrated with fish and chips on the Halifax waterfront and purchases of little baby girl clothes at Frenchys, the best place we know of for kids’ clothing. If you live in Nova Scotia, or New Brunswick these are retail outlets where you get phenomenal value, a real opportunity to stretch your dollar.

If you can’t find out the gender of your child through the public health system check to see if you have the option of a private service. It worked well for us.

Prior to yesterday's appointment, we were told that the Halifax children’s hospital no longer offers this service because of litigation that ensued as a result of an incorrect gender determination. We haven’t been able to sort out if this story is authentic or if it’s another apocryphal urban myth.

We were told yesterday though that one of the reasons that sexing is not routinely done in some venues is due to the amount of time it can take and the fact that strictly speaking it is not necessary from a health perspective. But as a childless good colleague recently said to me, "you've got to let your friends and family know - that way the gift buying can begin in earnest." I guess it's time for us to share the results of our TV babyland screening with her.

If you want to know, UC Baby could be a possibility for you.