The Double Standard on Childcare

Recently, I was discussing an article on parenting with someone. Why we decide to talk about the article instead of the drama between Lisa Vanderpump and Brandi, I will never know, but it happened. I had my opinion on this polarizing article, and so did she. My opinion was obviously not following the same line of thought that hers was. Needless to say, things got a little heated when said person snapped back at me telling me that I wasn't allowed to have an opinion because I don't have any children of my own. That whole "You're not a parent, you will never know until you've walked the path, you don't get to have a say" kind of thing. 

This was when I whipped out my infamous Kate Hudson "bullshit" card.

I'm a nanny. I do anything and everything my kid's actual mom would do in the same time that I'm with him. I mean, that is basically the point in finding a nanny for your child in the first place, isn't it? To have someone there every day with your child doing the best damn job possible in as much of the same way that you would do things yourself. You can never, ever be replaced by your nanny, but if you can't be there you absolutely want someone who genuinely wants to be when you can't.

So I'm basically a "stay at home mom" during average working hours. Which is quite a lot of hours since this is America and that's just what we do to make a decent living. Especially when that living has to support the dreams of a girl living in New York City. So while you're busy spending your days climbing the corporate ladder, I'm being a "mom" to a child. The only difference is that I hand him over at the end of the day to his real mom.

I'm the one he pulls by the hand to the fridge every morning so that he can pick out which fruit he wants with his breakfast. "Poms, gapes, and tinas" are his options on most days, so I take out the pomegranates, grapes, and clementines because I know his versions of the words for each. I'm there to reply "Yes" when he points to the microwave and asks me if it's hot and the garbage when he asks if it's yucky. I'm the one that decides he can make it through breakfast before having to use the potty so I decline to put a diaper on him and sit him down to eat "breakfast".

I'm also the one that ends up having to clean his poop off the chair when I realize I was wrong…

I take him to soccer class. P.S. 20 month olds go to soccer class here in Manhattan, go figure. I'm the one who sits through gymnastics and music classes with him feeling like a complete moron for singing "bubbles go pop pop poppity pop" six times over. I proceed to let the instructors know that he's deathly afraid of the puppets and to skip him whenever it's his turned to be kissed by Buzzy the Bee. I'm there with open arms when he runs to me frightened to all heck anytime the doorbell rings. I put the band aid over the gash on the corner of his eyebrow when said eyebrow meets the corner of the coffee table. I'm there to entertain him with an iPhone selfie shoot when all other toys fail.

I'm the one responsible for him saying "peeeeeeyuuuu" whenever he has a dirty diaper. I was also the one responsible for him learning how to sign the words please, help, more, eat, finished, water, and countless others at the age of one. I'm the one that draws him ten thousand (this number is not an exaggeration) airplanes and points up to the sky with him because he knows that they fly. I acknowledge him each and every. single. time he says "yeh-whoa" when pointing to a school bus or  taxi because that's what color they are. Do you even know how many freaking taxis we see just in a two block radius in the middle of Manhattan…? Too many.

I'm the one that's teaching a little life to know that it's not okay to take toys from other children, that we pee in the potty and not on the floor as soon as our diaper comes off, that we have to use our words when we want something instead of whining, that we pet dogs instead of whack them on the head with our toy brooms, that we use kindness, that we give hugs to our friends, that he is so unbelievably and unconditionally loved by not only his mom and dad, but also by me. 

I'm not a real parent; I'm a 9-5 parent. And I absolutely love it.

So why does anyone in the childcare sector get to do all of these things, yet as soon as it comes to the tougher subjects we're "not allowed to have a say because we don't actually have kids of our own".

I'm with this child for more hours in a day than either of his parents are. And while that obviously 100% does not mean that I know any better than them or any other parent, it does mean that I get to have a say in what I think is right. I get to make judgement calls and I get to have opinions on parenting styles. I get to roll my eyes at the parent who let's her child freak out and scream when another kid tries to take her child's toy instead of telling her child that it's okay for him to share and play together. I get to judge. Because if you're a doctor from 9-5, you get to have opinions on other doctors. Anyone that works in any sector all day long, every day, every week of the year gets to comment on that sector. It's just freaking logic.

End rant.

Here's a little something exciting to lift your spirit after that nightmare of a post that I had no intention of even writing. Tomorrow we're going to have our second round of "The Blogmopolitan Quiz"! I'll be posting mine in the morning so you can either grab it then, fill it out, and link up or you can wait to do it on Friday. Either works, I just hope you all play along again because I had so much fun reading everyone's posts!

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