Well our fabulous, marvelous daycare provider Maria is now enjoying herself in idyllic Greece and we're back from vacation. You know what that means...
No, it doesn't mean I'm going into baklava withdrawals (although I am), it means Brynn has started at her new daycare.
Kind of.
Sort of.
What she actually has done is started at "A" new daycare. A pronounced like the letter of the alphabet, not the "aaaaah" we garble out for the dentist. A new daycare. Yup. The saga continues.
As you know, we got a highly coveted spot in a brand new daycare. (cue angels singing)
Then, we gave our notice and suffered through Maria's concerted campaign of guilt. (cue the violins)
Then, we got a call from our new daycare. They weren't going to be ready on June 1st as planned. (cue horror movie soundtrack)
Then, we talked to Maria (aka grovelled) and she agreed to continue caring for Brynn until June 15. (cue relieved angels)
Then, our daycare called back and said no, they were going to be ready on time. (cue slightly pissed off angels singing through clenched teeth)
Then, our daycare calls back and says, nope, they were right when they called us the first time...they aren't going to be ready for June 1st after all. (cue some LOUD Nine Inch Nails - Mom, this is a band. You would hate them so don't bother asking to hear some of their music.)
Then, we beg and cry and Maria agrees to take care of Brynn until July 1st. (cue angels who are now too pissed off to sing and now can only manage a smile that looks more like a snarl)
Then, we get a call letting us know that our daycare won't be ready for July 1st, or even July 20th when we return from vacation and inquiring whether we have other options or if we would like to drive our daughter to Richmond every day to use their facility there. Until. Further. Notice. (OK. Cue every fucking angry/ugly thing you can imagine here. Kind of like the product of a Marilyn Manson meets Steve Buscemi having a baby with Freddy Kruger staring sullenly at you as though planning your imminent demise. Yup. That's how THAT whole phone call felt.)
aaaand so now every day I ask the universe "are you kiiiiiiding me?" as I load my sweet little baby into the car to schlep back and forth to Richmond. Zippedy fricking do dah day.
