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The Daycare Dilemma

Candy's Column

The Daycare Dilemma

“If I’m not able to focus on my career after I have the baby, I am going to DIE,” I had told Mr. Candy in what I truly believed was an understatement.  There may have also been a dramatic hair toss thrown in there for good measure.  Not wanting me to perish and leave our child without a mother, Mr. Candy suggested looking into daycare options.  Yes!  Great idea!  We were lucky enough to find a fantastic place just a couple miles away that our neighbor’s nine-month-old daughter attends.  This place has a SIX-BABY STROLLER for walks!  And REALLY CUTE BABIES!  Which anyone knows are the two most important indicators of a credible facility.  So we immediately put down a deposit to have Skylar enter daycare at the end of September.

Phew!  Two months will be MORE than long enough to bond with the baby, I thought.

That was before I knew I’d be missing out on this:

That September start date…?  Yeah, that’s now at the end of January.

I am fortunate to be in the position where I can be flexible with childcare.  Many parents are not.  But as much as I can’t bear to part with Miss Skye, I must confess that I am also going STIR CRAZY.   It’s that eternal Mommy Catch 22, right?  There is nowhere else I’d rather be.  Yet my eyes have bags big enough to have “Prada” embroidered on them.  My shirts have milk stains that I try to pass off as polka dots because I am too tired to clean them.  My hungry baby is permanently attached to my boobs, making it difficult — nay, impossible — to get anything done, which explains why I am writing this column at 1AM.

In short, my sanity is eroding faster than Larry King’s hair.

There are moment I am jealous of Mr. Candy, who gets to leave the house and have conversations that don’t involve the question, “Are you pushing out a poopy?”

However, when I e-mailed Mr. Candy this morning to inform him that Skylar had smiled at me for the first time — with no flatulence! — he responded, “Soooooo jealous.”  And just like that, I was reminded of why I moved daycare to January.

Because sharing is caring, as I tell my kids. (Except my wine. Never my wine.)
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Candy Kirby is the founder of The Laughing Stork and a professional fun-maker who will never stop chasing her lifelong dream: to find the Pomeranian or porn star after whom her parents must have named her. A humor columnist for Disney, Nickelodeon, Scary Mommy, Reductress and Redbook, she also used to be a staff writer for the soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, where she penned many scripts featuring prolonged heated stares and countless “Who’s the Daddy?” story lines. Candy lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young kids and three rescue Persian cats, the latter of whom are the real brains behind this operation (so send all complaints to them).

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