During this pandemic, I have heard a noise, deep and painful, but the same from almost every corner I leaned into. “Where are our childcare options?”, they would wail.
The basic answer was always a simple, “gone.” Gone was the luxury of public-school protection, our safety nets closed completely or with limited capacity. The daycares, also limited, seem to require six figures a year to afford. I found myself feeling a familiar calling and once again longing to tell my friends, “Let me be your village.”
My feelings on affordable daycare have always been on the extreme side of things. I quit my job at a daycare center once I had my own kids to raise. Having been raised with the help of family, I didn’t think anything of the do-it-myself approach. I didn’t expect the loneliness and boredom I found in only having a child or two around. I longed for more adult interaction. When my in-laws had a baby for me to help with, it naturally hit me.
“Let me be your village.”
I provided people I love a safe space to leave their baby without worry or an empty bank account. Here and there over the years, I found myself happily loving more than just the village I birthed. My kids had friends and I did, too.
When life changed through a divorce, I think my mindset on the village did, too. I often found myself using the physical distance as an excuse to dismiss myself and really dig into who I was for a long time. Different life events pushed me further into that loneliness and extreme independence and I feel like I forgot how to reach out, with the perceived loss of identity. I desperately felt like I wanted company, but never meaningfully reached out. I lost my village in a way, but it was more me pushing them away and refocusing.
With COVID I found myself more alone than ever. I couldn’t see my family, my kids never left the house, and farming is one of those “essential industries”. While the nearly 2 months of lockdown was obviously difficult and by fall, I still had kids at home and had been a widow to the farm for the entire time. I was ready for a pod. A friend had been working from home with her son and husband. The little boy had just celebrated his first birthday before the pandemic. His parents were still paying their daycare full price just to keep his spot when they were ready to send him back. I found myself in these long conversations with the mom about how ridiculous it all was for working parents to juggle. It all came back to needing our village.
Having a pod during Covid saved my sanity.
I spent the long winter deep in love with a kid that wasn’t mine. His presence gave my toddler someone to chatter with when we tackled online learning. When the older kids went back to physical school in March 2021, my youngest didn’t feel the sudden loneliness of being the only child at home. Now that my friend ultimately chose to leave the workforce to really enjoy this odd time, we don’t see her son as frequently anymore, but we have left the foundation for the village, still standing.
Now that I find myself, somewhat unexpectedly, working on my degree again, I know I have a good village. I have a lot of love surrounding us as a safety net. I try not to feel guilty for leaving my kids these days. And, I know the well-rounded people I want to raise will only be products of the village I make for them.
Because of that I will never stop longing for more and telling my friends, “Let me be your village.” I am always here to love them like family.
