Would the real grown-up please stand up?

I've had a rough few weeks.  Dealing with some shenanigans at work when it's early in the year does not bode well for the remaining 32 weeks.  Dealing with those shenanigans when some of them are the result of adults (me included) not acting like adults...that part is just challenging.

You see, super nanny quit after one day.

I was scrambling for care.  Got it lined up with a little public shaming of my XH on the part of a colleague who knew full well that he hadn't offered to help when he knew that I was without care on a couple of days of classes.  Then, thank God, Diva Grandma showed up just in time for the Demie Diva's first week of Kindergarten.

GASP.

Kindergarten, y'all.

So, here I am, 43 years old, with a kindergartener, and Mommy saving my backside.  This was, however, wonderful, since I was able to show the Demie Diva's teachers the level of attachment those two have.  It was wonderful because the Diva Grandma got to see the amazing place where her adored darling is going to school.  And then...she went home, and Ms. D. started taking care of my child.

Now, given where I live, the idea of employing an African-American woman to care for my child gave me pause.  Don't flame me folks...she's awesome, a college student, and totally totally gets the Demie Diva's energy, love of outside, passion for pretend, and so on.  However, the awareness of the stereotype is so all over me on this.  I would have been torn in an ironic fit of knots, except that well...she's perfect.

To recap...my mother has bailed me out - again.  My colleagues have helped me out of a child-care crunch with the public calling-out of my XH.  Other adults in my world need their blocks knocked together.  And in the middle of this...I have a five year old whose stuffed animals want to go to Minnesota.

I give up.  I'll blog more about her first day of kindergarten later.  BUT...this shenanigan stuff has to quit.