Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Officially Bad

Alright, today is the day I cross the line from half-way decent mom to total neglect mom. Today my children become…latch-key kids.

Reality is that when you are using bill money to pay for daycare, something needs to give. In my case, having already eliminated every possible expenditure from my budget, I just couldn’t go any lower. My childcare costs were killing me, and I knew I had to make some changes.

I sat down with Grace, my almost 10-year old and Emily, my almost 8-year old, and talked about what life would be like if they didn’t go to the Open Door Program, the local child care offered by the school system, and if they would like riding the bus to and from school. To my surprise, they were thrilled about not going to Open Door and actually getting to ride a bus everyday. Not only were they bored by the Open Door Program, which caters to younger kids, but they hated leaving so early in the morning and getting home so late in the evening. They were not only completely on board with the idea but were willing to take some extra responsibility for themselves in order for it to work.

So, starting today, a bus picks them up and takes them to school. After school, they get back on the bus, and upon arriving home, get a snack (no cooking!) and watch some TV (no fighting!).

I was feeling pretty skeptical about how this would work out, let me tell you! Judging from the fact that they can’t manage to get all the spaghetti noodles in the garbage can when scraping their plate or how they have to be pried out of bed with crow bars leads me to think that this could be a complete disaster. However, in spite of the fact that I forgot to call this morning (“and you’d better be ready to walk out the door!”), they managed to get on the bus.

Which makes me wonder if maybe kids need less coddling and more responsibility. I guess we shall see, shan’t we?

12 comments:

Im so angry, Im so at ease said...

They'll probably grow on it. I had my own key and was on my own about three hours before my parents got home. And I think I actually did most of my mischief when they where at home...

bunnyjo georg said...

That is probably true, since a lot of behavior is just an attempt to get the attention of an adult. Or so I hear...

My mom will freak out and so will my ex-husband. Hopefully they won't put the kabosh to my plans, cuz I can't go back to paying that day care!

Melissa said...

well, if they have a problem with it then perhaps they can come up with a better solution.

You are doing the very best you can. If you had the money to send them, you would. But you don't and you are only doing this because it's your only other alternative. Your girls are smart and good and they will be fine.

You only need to worry about taking care of your family and making your situation work, Laur. You need to stop worrying about what others are going to think or say.

bunnyjo georg said...

Can you tattoo that on the back of my eyelids, please?

shortensweet said...

I remember walking home alone, going home to an empty house, and I turned out ok...or did I????

Your girls will fight, your girls will do things they aren't suppose to, but that's the way kids are.

It will be fine sista.

DCveR said...

When I was eight I wouldn't have my mother taking me to school. I would walk there and back on my own, like all the cool kids did! Living in a big city, in the center of Lisbon this may sound dangerous, but the truth was all the neighbours knew each others. Also soon I found out that if I had good grades I could push the limits a bit beyond... getting more freedom and authonomy because I showed I was responsible. Mischiefs were dismissed as something of little importance cuz I was a good pupil. At age ten I managed to go and join a scouts camp alone, by train, some thirty miles away. I just had to call my parents after reaching the right station where the scouts leaders were supposed to pick me up (big hairy lie, I walked to the camp from the train station). My parents were proud of the nice little me, I was proud of my independence.

bunnyjo georg said...

Shorty: Yes, they will be bad. But I also know them well enough to know that they will also step up to the plate in surprising ways. As DCvR said, because he was responsible, little was made of his minor misbehavior. I think that will be a clue to how to keep this thing on track - let them know how much their GOOD behavior means, and forget about the rest.

DCvR: I would be proud of nice little you if I were your parent, too. :) I really want Grace and Emily to be proud of their independence as well, so I'm going to really focus on the good, responsible behavior they are exhibiting and not worry so much about the spaghetti that misses the garbage can.

Anonymous said...

Hi! I'm a pedophile and I know where your upstairs apartment is.

(had this been an actual pedophile you would be freakin out right now)

There some stuff you just shouldn't blog about.

Im so angry, Im so at ease said...

Anonymous; I'll save my next bucket of poo for you! Anytime ther will, and can be psycos, like yourself, out there. So please fuck off and discover a different planet where you can enjoy yourselves with eachothers(you'll probably be more affraid and tormented than most people, annoymous coward!). The guys you refer to can be met at any stage in life; if you thighten your kids to a string and watch them till they are 18, they will still lack their ability to stand on their own feet... What you do is shitting on people, fucking besserwisser!

Im so angry, Im so at ease said...

Damn, I forgot to say (thats for you annonymous); -cocksucker!(in the very neat Wu-manner)

bunnyjo georg said...

Anon: Please keep in mind that anyone who A.) knows where my apartment is and B.) reads my blog already knows or would have heard it from my own mouth that my children would be home alone for a portion of the day.

ISA, ISE: :) Me likey.

Marcheline said...

Unless I missed the post that gave out your address - you're right, bunny. Only your family, friends, and neighbors know where you live.

- M