matriarchy

I’m breaking my vow of silence today. Here goes.

I got into a largish argument with my mother when I came home from work today. She asked me if I could write her a cheque for the babysitting, and told me her new rates. Now, to give you a sense of perspective, you should know that I didn’t have much of a choice of who would be watching my precious boo while I toiled in the educational salt mines. Sure, I could’ve kicked up a fuss, but it really wasn’t worth the emotional blackmail. At that time I believed my parents when they told me that I’d pay them when I got my tax return. “Will I have to pay you now?” I said. “No,” they said. “When you get your return.”

Fast forward to last month, when my mother asked for her money. Taken aback, I quickly calculated what I would owe them based on the maximum deduction. At $125 per week, I watched my dream of savings pop like a soap bubble. Still, I’d rather keep the peace than make a fuss. We agreed to stagger payment with rent, so that I’d pay $700 for rent on the first and $500 for babysitting on the fifteenth. As our account was drained by my two months without EI coupled with the Boy’s period of unemployment, I asked if I could pay in March for February.

Fast forward to today, when my mother asked for a cheque for $30 per day. I was stunned, but tried to keep hold of the last threads of my sanity. I know that $30 per day isn’t much compared to Gomorrah childcare rates, but when you only have one decent income, it means that we’ve once again slipped below the poverty line.

I was especially irked because Blake isn’t sleeping well during the day, isn’t eating much other than convenience jar food and white bread, and is watching far too much television. This means that he doesn’t sleep at night and doesn’t eat dinner (instead he scavenges for our food.) When I got home today and changed his diaper a half-hour later, it was the first change in 3 ½ hours. I don’t know how long he was sitting in poop, but he’d soaked through his onesie. Needless to say, he’s getting another diaper rash.

So why am I paying so much money for a service I wasn’t allowed to choose and am not allowed to criticize? (When I mentioned the diaper, I was told to change it myself as soon as I got in. This exchange sent my mother into a black temper and I was insulted repeatedly while I tried to get dinner together for my fussy baby. This is soooo helpful.)

To offset my mood somewhat, I’m going to list the reasons why it’s good to live here.

1. Under-market rent & childcare.
2. 24-hour access to washer & dryer. Occasional folding service.
3. Utilities including groceries, cable, phone & internet are included with rent.
4. Food is purchased for all meals, and most nights a hot dinner is provided.
5. Spontanious child care – we can run out to rent a movie or spend time with visiting Pixie without arranging it weeks in advance.
6. Bathroom, kitchen & common areas cleaned; linens & toiletries provided.
7. Support for re-integration into church community.
8. Babysitter lives upstairs; I never have to pack a bag, a lunch, snacks or toys. Most mornings I don’t even dress my baby before I leave.
9. Landlords give spontaneous gifts to baby. (Today was yellow rain boots.)
10. Nic’s always keeping it real upstairs; reminds me to do same.
11. I love our re-furbished basement.
12. Parents love me, although have a funny way of showing it sometimes.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 3/07/2005 09:34:00 p.m.