stayupallnightwithme

[stayupallnightwithme]

[stayupallnightwithme]

You still have time to change!

(Words sewn into a leaf)

[stayupallnightwithme]

[stayupallnightwithme]

You’ve grown into someone who would have protected you as a child. And that is the most powerful move you made.

[stayupallnightwithme]

The best decision I could have made was to focus all my energy on accomplishing my goals because everyday it pays off.

[stayupallnightwithme]

[stayupallnightwithme]

@lovesdaya

[stayupallnightwithme]

Boston Public Library

[stayupallnightwithme]

[stayupallnightwithme]

when you tell people you work in early childcare, they always say things like “omg how do you do it? i could NEVER deal with changing diapers for a living!” and the thing is that working in early childcare IS extremely difficult sometimes, but that’s never been because of a dirty diaper or a huge lunch mess or tantrums all day long. the worst blowout diaper in the world has never made me consider a new career. i’ve had days where my ears are genuinely ringing from all the screaming by the time i get home, and not wanted a new career. that stuff can be difficult in the moment, but in terms of things that make these jobs difficult? diapers and tantrums don’t even register. that’s small potatoes.

the truly hard part about working with little ones is this: you grow to love those little monsters with your whole entire heart. those kids are your BEST FRIENDS. they make your life so happy and lovely and meaningful. and yeah, sometimes you spend a decent amount of time wiping up poop, but you spend even more time in awe of how incredible these little humans are and how lucky you are to get to be in their life, to be somebody they trust to care for them.

when you work in early childcare - as a teacher, as a nanny, anybody whose full time job is seeing the same children every day - you spend months, years with these kids. you cry over their struggles, and you text everyone you know when they pee on the toilet for the first time, and you have anxiety nightmares about them getting hurt, and you open amazon to buy a new planter and inevitably find yourself looking through endless pages of toys and activities and books you think they might like. sometimes they’re having a bad day and you want to tear your hair out because nothing you’re doing seems to make any difference, and then sometimes you’re having a bad day and they hug you and tell you they love you and give you a sticker that’s a picture of a wooden barrel, and you go home and put it on your mirror and then you smile when you see it every single day. you and the children develop inside jokes. you have special nap time rituals. you have full conversations with facial expressions alone. you can’t wait until their parents come, because this child just said THE funniest thing and no one else in your life knows them well enough to think it’s as funny as you do. sometimes, you have to translate their speech to their own parents. you LOVE them - and they love you too.

and then - then, one day, the job ends. the kids move away, or the family’s needs change, or you get fired, or you have to leave the job for any number of reasons - and the job ends. and then, suddenly, these little people who have your whole heart, who you genuinely wake up every morning excited to see, who you would absolutely die for with no hesitation??? they’re just… gone. they’re not in your life any more. you don’t get to see them. you don’t get to talk to them. if you’re lucky, maybe their parents have social media and post pics every few months. maybe if you have their parent’s number you can text periodically and they’ll let you know they’re doing well. but unless you’re one of the very few lucky, lucky people who end up developing relationships with the parents that are close enough to last a lifetime, AND having your schedules and communication and lifestyle habits sync up enough so that you can continue to see them a couple times a year??? that relationship is just… over.

and sometimes… sometimes, you don’t even get to say goodbye. you don’t get a chance to tell the children that you’re not gonna be around anymore, to give them a last hug, to remind them one last time how loved they are, how happy you are to know them. sometimes you have no clue that the last day is the last day. sometimes there’s no heads up. sometimes you have to leave suddenly, and you have no way to contact or keep in touch with their family. sometimes a parent tells you they’re switching schools on their way out the door. sometimes you go into work one day, and at lunch time your boss pulls you into her office and tells you to pack your things and go. sometimes you’re on the way home on friday and you get a text from the dad saying that your contract has been terminated effective immediately and your final payment has just been sent over venmo. sometimes the last time you see the children, you told them you’d see them tomorrow, and you didn’t know you were lying.

that’s the thing about childcare - it’s quite literally your job to care. and when the job ends, all that caring you did? the care you hold for those kids? it doesn’t just go away. it never goes away.

and then, what makes it so much more painful: those kids you leave? the ones you’ve spent days and months and years caring about, loving? that little boy whose first steps you watched, that little girl who ran to hug you every morning, that toddler who turned you into a person who becomes excited over another person’s toileting habits? you are going to remember that child - every single one of those children - for the rest of your life. you’re gonna miss them every day. you will never stop loving them. and you will know that they loved you - that they trusted you, cared for you, felt at home with you the same way you felt at home with them. but you will also know this: they’re going to forget you.

sometime very soon - maybe in a few months, maybe in a year, certainly in the next few years - that child’s last memory of you will fade. they’re not gonna remember the time you spent together, or the special nickname they had for you. they’ll be out there living their life, growing and changing and becoming the amazing human being you knew they were, and you’re not gonna get to know who they grow up to be. they’re not gonna know that somewhere in the world, there’s somebody who misses changing their diapers and wiping their noses and listening to them sing baby shark under their breath while they work on a puzzle. they won’t know you. they won’t think about you. they won’t miss you at all.

when you tell people you work with young children, 9 out of 10 times, they say something about how difficult it must be - because of the diapers, or the tantrums, or the mess. they say things like, “wow, you must have a lot of patience,” and “i could never deal with that level of chaos,” and “you’re a saint; if they weren’t my child, i’d never be able to handle the constant screaming.” and, like, yeah, sometimes it can be stressful when you’ve had a kid screaming for eight straight hours, or when a preschooler vomits directly into your lap. those things certainly aren’t fun, but they’re also not what makes the job hard. they’re drops in the ocean. they don’t make you reconsider your entire career path.

the hard part about working in early childcare, honestly, is the same thing that makes the job so great: the love. your job - as a teacher, or a nanny, or a night nurse, or a paraprofessional - is to love. to love these children, to care for them, to share their pain and their joy and their struggles and their triumphs - that’s what we do every day. and, to be fair, i’ve known people who work in this field who don’t form loving connections with the children in their care, who do leave their work at work and don’t bond with the kids and, yea, often, those people will say that the worst part of the job was the diaper changes or the tantrums. nothing against those people - the work is not for everyone, and i don’t begrudge anyone who is in their job simply because they needed a job. but those people, from what i’ve seen, are the vast minority. for the most part, the people who do this work do it with love. they do it because they love the children they care for, they love getting to watch humanity grow, they love those tiny people they spend their days with.

that same love is the hardest part of the job - knowing that you’ll be giving these children your whole heart, even though tomorrow could be the last time you ever see them, even though you won’t get to see them grow or know the amazing people they’ll become. knowing that you’re gonna give that child all the love and care they deserve, whether or not you’ll get the privilege of being in their life long-term. when people say to me, “oh goodness, that must be so hard - dealing with crying babies all day long!” most of the time all i can do is chuckle, because, yeah, they’re right, it certainly is hard - but not at all for the reasons they’re thinking.

[stayupallnightwithme]

One of my preschoolers dragged me across the playground to point out a patch of white fungus and asked me what it was. I told her it was fungus and she didn't know what that meant so I told her mushrooms are fungi also. She stared at the fungus patch for a moment and then cheerfully said, "I can hear them talking to each other! But not how we're talking." LMAO girl what in the fae changeling child 😭😭😭

[stayupallnightwithme]

Dream Home Library By @designideahub [IG]

[stayupallnightwithme]

[stayupallnightwithme]

Alright people. I need your help. Enrollment for Skype a scientist this semester has been -fine- but we can do better. We have so many scientists who want to speak with classrooms! Will you tell a teacher you know about our program 🥺 please?

Send them to skypeascientist.com/sign-up

[stayupallnightwithme]

Being in the field that I am in, I often notice how many children respond to a lot of negativity because this is what they are used to.

Children are often a product of their environment, speak positively, and react positively and children will learn how to self-regulate positively.

[stayupallnightwithme]

Sorry For Always Ranting About How The US NEEDS Universal Free Pre-K. I Will Do It Again.

[stayupallnightwithme]

Things I've Said While Teaching Toddlers

Toddlers are absolutely wild and I love them so much.

Stop chewing on the shoe. It isn't even yours!

Stop sticking your fingers in someone else's mouth! You can't be surprised if someone bites you if you do.

Look. If I have to wear pants, you have to wear pants, so let's just suffer together, ok? [said during a diaper change when the child kept trying to take off their pants]

The only chalk we eat is Tums and Smarties, so get that out of your mouth.

Are you smart? Yes, you're smart. Are you kind? Yes, you're kind. Are you loved? Yes, you're loved. Are you able? Yes, you're able.

Where are your shoes? Where are your socks???

Get off the table!

Get out from under the table! Seriously??

Bubba. Little love. Sweet child. You simply cannot put broccoli in your milk. Yucky.