A week of firsts
I assume we’re all freaking the f**k out about money at the moment?
This week, I got a note from the nursery saying that fees had gone up around 5%, and even though they already eat up an extortionate amount of our joint monthly salaries, I actually breathed a sigh of relief. Only 5%!
An hour later, the nursery sent a second message. ‘Apologies, there was an admin error in the note you received this morning, please see attached letter for correct information’.
Reader, it was not good news. The fees have gone up nearly 10%, which I totally understand – I want my kid to be fed and warm, because I’m an incredibly thoughtful mother. I also want the lovely nursery staff, who work in the grossly underpaid care sector, to have enough money to survive the winter. However, the news still left me tingling with anxiety, because it feels like the tidal wave of extra costs is only growing – and this is particularly true if you’re paying to keep kiddies alive as well as yourself.
For anyone wondering, my nursery fees are just over £1,500 a month, and that is considered extremely cheap in London (our nursery shuts for Christmas, Easter and a week in the summer, which may explain the slightly lower fees. But still not cheap). Many people I know in London pay between £1,750 and £2,000 a month for full-time care. Even if you’re lucky enough to hear these figures before having a child and think – ok yes, that is just about doable – it’s still very hard to adjust to the reality of paying the equivalent to an extra mortgage every month, because let’s not forget, you are paying this on top of your (probably massive) housing costs.
Obviously, the UK having the second most expensive childcare system in the world is not new news, and I’m hardly at the coalface of poverty, I know. But if a married woman with a professional job like me is having heart palpitations over nursery fees, it must seem basically impossible for single parents or anyone on a lower income. It’s one of the reasons I’ll be joining my FIRST EVER PROTEST, The March of the Mummies, to campaign for more affordable childcare this weekend. Organised by the brilliant campaign group Pregnant Then Screwed, we’ll be marching from Trafalgar Square to Westminster (although aptly, I can only make the first half of the protest due to childcare issues). I’ll let you know how mumma’s first protest goes next week, but hopefully it will be the start of a growing movement, because if the government is so desperate to get the UK birth rate up, I believe the single most effective measure would be to ensure good, affordable childcare is available to all.
You know what else I did for the first time this week? Got my flipping ears syringed!
*Pauses to let everyone throw up*
Okay, you’re back, because even though you’re disgusted, you’re secretly really jealous and want your ears syringed too. At first I was mortified when, during a trip to the GP with a suspected burst ear drum, the nurse took one look in my ears and said ‘No, they just need a clean’. What kind of revolting hound has overly waxy ears? Being an enormous over-sharer, I told everyone at work as soon as I got in, and they all made sick noises, and then quite a few said ‘Oh my god but I would love to have that done too’, and I felt all smug about my disgusting little earholes.
Anyway, I went to have it done this week and can confirm you would not be envious of the actual process, which involves having a tiny hose pipe stuck in your ear to fire out the gunk with repeated jets of water. Imagine a tiny goblin scuba-diving into your ear canal and then punching you repeatedly in the ear drum and you get the idea.
Obviously I asked to see what came out of the ear – I am only human – and while I’ll spare you the details, it’s certainly an effective procedure. Immediately I could hear sounds I had never noticed before, and my head felt somehow lighter. Miraculously, I had this procedure done on the NHS, but generally you have to pay. If you have any money left after shelling out for nursery fees, I recommend splashing out on a good syringing sesh.