Childcare #2

Posted by Barbara on November 29, 2022 in Art, Blog, Education, Humour, Living today, Women's equality issues | 2 comments

Last month I wrote about the ‘March of the Mummies’, which was held simultaneously in various locations in the UK to highlight how the cost of childcare in the UK means a significant number of women simply cannot return to the workplace.

For yes, it seems like in most cases it is still the women who sort out the childcare, and whose working lives often have at best to be put on hold, or at worst to be abandoned indefinitely.  Comparisons with countries in the EU and Canada put the UK to shame; in Estonia a guaranteed nursery place is offered for children from 18 months, at a cost of €58 (£50) a month. France, Finland, Germany, Belgium and the Netherlands all spend more on childcare and pre-primary education as a percentage of GDP than the UK.  Some 20 countries in the EU, US and Canada have lower childcare costs than the UK.

So how did Dame B manage once it became clear we needed to find an alternative to grandmotherly support?  After discussion with Mr B we decided to put the spare room to use and find an au pair. We contacted an agency and Yolanda came to live with us.  I wish I could say that it was a runaway success, but I’m afraid it wasn’t. We did our best, and as I have a reasonable command of Spanish I was able to fill the gaps inevitably left by the language classes we enrolled her for.

But that wasn’t the problem. I think it was impossible for her to accept that we were a fully vegetarian family and no meat was cooked or eaten in the house. We had specified this with the agency, but when we came home one day to find she had heated up beefburgers in the toaster this did cross a line. As did the unexpected blockage of our drains: when the drain clearing company told us the problem I reminded her of what couldn’t be flushed down the loo. I thought it was sorted – until the drains blocked again exactly one month later.

Convinced we were no good at managing au pairs we decided nevertheless to have another go. Lene from Denmark joined our family and it was joy from day one. She danced and sang, helped decorate the living room and laughed with us for a year.  When my son broke his arm playing football on the common with the bigger lads she somehow kept him smiling until Mr B arrived and whisked him off to A&E. The day came when she had to leave; after the final farewell we drove off on our summer holiday and played her favourite record: ‘Orinoco Flow’ by Enya. My son was in floods of tears.

Anne was quiet, thoughtful and constant; she taught the children to draw – an asset when both parents are artistically challenged.  The house was soon full of wonderful pictures.

Madeleine was stocky and protective – a top league swimmer, she took on the fearsome coach at my daughter’s gym club for being rude to a sensitive 12-year-old. She arrived home one day when I was discussing a business proposition with a colleague round the kitchen table and bared half of one buttock to reveal a bleeding tattoo of a bat flying across a yellow moon.

Kristel was the cool one; when she left she gave my teenage daughter her cut-off purple jeans – a gift of such value that I would never be able to match it.

These wonderful young women all contributed something different and special to our lives. We even forgave one for bringing an unknown male back for the night without prior agreement. Who hasn’t done the same?