nurseries

Mum’s The Word

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 15 Comments

Parents across the world have had a unique experience, an experience that perhaps only parents in refugee camps and war zones would envy. But didn’t parents always home school children in the millennia before it was assumed all children should go to school? How to hunt mammoths, how to plough the fields and scatter, how to count sheep – yan, tan, tethera. But parents of old would not have had to cope with on line learning, nor would they have been trying to teach rebellious teenagers. Modern parents tearing their hair out in a pandemic may well have thought there’s a lot to be said for sending your eight year old out to work as a lonely goatherd or chimney sweep, or your awkward teenager into service at The Big House. It’s not that long ago that children left school at fourteen; my father’s first job was as a telegram boy, he claimed Winston Churchill told him off for whistling in the corridor. I imagine many fourteen year olds would rather have been delivering telegrams than stuck at home with a computer and nagging parents.

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It has been a mixed experience, those parents who already home school have been vindicated, so too those families who conveniently set off early in the year to drive a camper van all round their continent or sail around the world. Though sailing may have had its problems if no port let them in the harbour to fetch supplies.

But I have not seen it even mentioned that being a stay at home mum ( or dad ) is to be valued. Stay at home mothers ( or fathers ) have never been valued by any government, not even in the 1950s ( according to my mother ) when governments wanted women to stay at home and give the jobs back to the men after the second world war.

If someone is at home, permanently, it is not a major disaster when a child is sick or the other parent gets stuck at work and it must have been a great advantage when schools were suddenly closed. I totally understand the many reasons why women want or need to go to work and this varies from needing the money ( for food, not to run a second car! ) to keeping a foothold in your career, with all your earnings going to pay nursery fees.

From the children’s point of view they could be passed round like a parcel with no security or attend an excellent nursery a few days a week which they love going to. Nursery care is more convenient than school as it runs all year round and all day, eight till six, with three meals a day. If you have no family nearby and your husband (or wife ) has to work away from home, you may have to give up work when your child goes to school.

But getting back to mothers ( for they are still the ones who mainly have this dilemma ) – I have always thought that most women have not gained much over the decades, they often end up going out to work and still doing all ( lots ) of the housework. And in this country it is emerging that more working mothers than fathers have been dealing with the home schooling. To be fair to the chaps there are various reasons, many mothers work in the sort of jobs, such as retail, that were immediately closed down, so they were at home, or a lot of women work part time to fit in round the children.

But would we stay at home Mums have coped in our time with a pandemic and home schooling? NO! Staying at home for most mothers meant getting OUT of the house, taking your darling toddlers to every club and playground available to get rid of some of their energy and going round to other mums for coffee and gossip to preserve your sanity. Locked up indoors, with babies and toddlers, husband doing shift work and only 6 days off a month, I would not have survived, physically or mentally. So well done to the 2020 mothers of all sorts who are now faced with another five weeks of school holidays; Scottish mothers cheer as school starts early in August for them.

For those couples now expecting a happy event here is my handy guide to help you plan your maternity leave and work decisions.

Everyone has to eat, food has to be cooked.    Every home has to be cleaned; babies and toddlers make a mess. Washing has to be done and babies and toddlers create a mountain of washing. Going out to work doesn’t make these jobs go away.

Maternity leave of 9 months to a year will flash by in what seems like one month.

On your child’s second day of nursery they will wake up with a raging temperature and you will have to phone granny – if you are lucky, or you will have to phone work.

On the child’s second week of nursery they ( the nursery, not the baby ) will phone you at work to come and fetch your baby because at nappy changing time there was the slightest hint they might have a stomach upset. Before Covid, stomach bugs were the scariest thing, perhaps with all this new handwashing stomach bugs no longer go around but you never know…

Second month of nursery you are in a meeting, the other parent is away on business and you miss the phone call from nursery to say your child has vomited all over the play area and the other children. When you finally get the message you turn up at nursery feeling very guilty and are told to keep baby at home till he has gone 48 hours without being sick.

Good luck to parents everywhere.

Friday Flash Fiction – Pudsey Bear Goes Missing

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 6 Comments

Despite his mother’s misgivings, Oscar enjoyed his new nursery. He was nearly three, very bright and very lively. The nursery teacher had assured Oscar’s mother that ‘Busy Bees Nursery’ had a very active programme and his energies would be directed.

‘We don’t keep them cooped up, we go for a walk every day.’

His mother had been alarmed.

‘You do keep them safe? We never take him out without his reins.’

‘I’m sure you have seen us out in the high street, no more than four children per helper, double reins; we certainly don’t want to lose anybody.

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As Christine reached the post office counter, she noticed the sign.

‘Pocket Calendar, ten pence for Children in Need.’

After the ordeal of trying to post a parcel overseas, with Mrs Grumpy behind the window, she thought she would earn a few brownie points.

‘…and a calendar please.’

‘Ten pence in the bucket’ came the terse reply.

The calendar would not be released until she moved along the counter to the bucket. Already holding up the queue, she fumbled in her purse. It was a good cause, so she emptied all her small change with a satisfying clatter into the empty bucket; then collected the flimsy piece of card with dates much too small to read.

Ten minutes later, staggering out of the greengrocers, she saw a couple of women struggling in the wind to tie up their banner.

‘Children in Need Cake Sale.’

Good idea,  that would save her baking before her sister came round for tea tomorrow. If she donated here as well, she could, with a clear conscience, keep the television turned off all night and avoid those irritating celebrities with their grand totals.

 

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Busy Bees Nursery was humming with activity; six children were to be chosen to go and help at the cake stall. Dressing up was involved and one child must don the yellow fur suit. Oscar was chosen for his outgoing personality.

‘Remember to hold his hand as we can’t get the reins on over his outfit’ were the teacher’s last words to her young assistants.

 

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As Christine chose her cakes, a posse arrived, two young women and six strangely attired little children, firmly attached to reins and adult hands. The little ones gathered behind the wooden trestle table.

‘Would you like to guess the weight of Pudsey Bear?’ asked one of the cake ladies.

Christine looked around for a teddy, then her attention was drawn to a sweet little boy in a yellow furry suit. The other children were eyeing up the cakes and one of the young ladies was trying to take photographs.

‘Shall I still hold on to them?’ asked the other girl.

‘I should certainly hope so’ Christine replied, uninvited.

Cake lady produced a flimsy sheet of paper that flapped in the wind.

‘Just put your name and phone number and the weight.’ She turned to her friend. ‘Are we doing Imperial or metric?’

‘You should have a clip board’ said Christina as she deliberated. ‘How old is he?’

She wrote down three stone and set off for the butchers. When she emerged, laden down with shopping, she caught a glimpse of yellow out of the corner of her eye. It was Pudsey Bear, about to walk into the road. She had no free hands to grab him and looked around for his companions. There was no one else in sight. She put two bags down and tried to locate a hand inside his suit, hoping no one thought she was a kidnapper. If she edged him back towards the cake stall, she was sure to meet a search party. The child’s hands had disappeared back inside the suit and the best she could do was place herself between Pudsey and the road.

‘Anyone seen the nursery outing?’ she asked passers by, but they just smiled and said how sweet her grandson was.

The cake stall had gone, only an empty trestle table remained. Even if Christine had any hands free to dial her mobile, she had left it at home. Lost children should go to a police station, but that was miles away. Pudsey was bouncing around in excitement at his adventure, at any moment he could bolt. She herded him into the newsagents, they could phone the police. The lone man was busy serving. Christine tried to get his attention and block the doorway at the same time. Finally he looked up.

‘One pound twenty five, thankyou.’

She looked down to see Pudsey had found his hands and was holding packets of sweets and crisps.

‘No, you don’t understand, he’s not mine, we have to ring the police.’

At that very moment, two policemen swept into the shop. One talked into his radio.

‘Can you confirm description; white male, three foot tall, wearing a yellow furry suit.’

The other officer thanked the shopkeeper for looking after Oscar. Christine slipped out of the shop; perhaps it was better to be a guardian angel than be arrested. Though if the shop had CCTV, that could be a problem.