Each dawn was punctuated by my toddler’s emphatic declaration, “I’m not keen on going there!” It became apparent that the nursery wasn’t quite meeting her needs nor ours. We were coaxed insistently by the management to overlook professional advice pertaining to toilet training – the head insisted we reinitiate the training merely two days prior to the birth of our second child, an already tumultuous period for our toddler. The matter we perceived as a simple logistical unnecessity – the absence of diaper changing facilities in the corresponding classroom – was absurdly defined as a deterrent to her developmental progress.
From our perspective, it was disconcerting that the administrators had enforced a policy barring parents from communicating directly with the carers during drop-off or pick-up. I would routinely be informed by a woman, whom I knew hadn’t spent time with my child, that she’d had a good day. This policy became a cause for concern for me, but the little I could do about it was obvious.
Experience in areas with a dire shortage of childcare facilities entails an understanding of the pressure to withhold complaints, as losing out on even a single nursery could potentially lead to the loss of one’s job. There were simply no other options. The immediate issue was alleviated a few months later when we relocated and secured a place for our daughter at a new nursery where she was significantly happier.
Assuming a private market to be the ideal childcare model is unsound when there’s an acute lack of provision, resulting in parents being robbed of their choice. The absence of meaningful competition is evident, and you don’t need an economics background to discern why this deteriorates the overall sector. Extensive waiting lists resulting in a power inequality culminate in parents feeling systematically helpless. The worrying circumstances surrounding a place where one’s child spends five days a week all the more add to the distress, particularly when no alternative options are present.
The childcare system in Ireland is rife with issues. Among these is the fact that a minimal number of individuals receive remuneration for an entire year’s leave. Furthermore, numerous nurseries refuse to care for babies below one year old. The availability of positions in infancy rooms is limited due to the required 1:3 staff-to-infant ratio, along with stringent regulations pertaining to the sleeping environments for infants. These factors render the service financially burdensome from the provider’s perspective, hence many don’t accommodate infants. The dilemma arises when the main caregiver is expected to resume work, yet no childcare is available.
In an unfortunate turn of events, waiting list constraints have now necessitated that prospective parents inform my current nursery manager of any miscarriages. This is because expectant parents often register their unborn child as soon as they discover they’re pregnant. For instance, a child I miscarried in August 2022 is still awaiting a place in the nursery opposite me, the waiting list position of which I un-heartbrokenly forgot to cancel. Favourably, we were able to secure a three-day slot for our youngest to coincide with my return to work; an act of immense generosity by the nursery staff who endeavour to make provisions for younger siblings of their existing children. While I count myself fortunate to secure a position, it’s worth noting that a three-day workweek isn’t feasible for most workforce members, which speaks to the failure of the policy.
The current predicament seems to encourage parents to impose on family members, typically grandmothers, to fill in the gap. The tactic is unmistakably akin to other scenarios where affordable housing isn’t available, and the implied solution is to move back into your childhood room.
Time spent between grandparents and their grandchildren can be mutually beneficial. However, it’s ethically questionable to have a public childcare strategy that inconspicuously forces retired grandparents into onerous childcare roles. A more ideal solution would involve a sufficiently subsidised, flexible childcare system. Such a system would alleviate financial stress associated with removing your child from a paid nursery even for a single day.
In lieu of assistance from grandparents or paid domestic helpers, returning to one’s career frequently necessitates further compromises for a parent who has already had to suspend their work, often without pay. Personally, I find myself in the midst of unpaid leave, grappling with the challenge of compressing a week’s workload into four days. The reason it’s four and not three days is due to my spouse taking weekly leave spread across the year, until we’re able to secure five-day childcare.
This entire situation is couched in the broader context of a work environment marked by gender bias, where roles traditionally fulfilled by women are undervalued. This viewpoint detrimentally affects women in the workforce, regardless of whether their occupation conform to traditional norms or not. It also impacts those engaged in work areas conventionally filled by women such as men in the care industry.
One consequence of this perspective is the indifference to policy loopholes in the childcare system, with the result that the adverse impact on women’s careers due to a lack of alignment between maternity leave and availability of childcare slots. Simultaneously, the fact that the working conditions of care staff and teachers – gender notwithstanding – are wanting, can also be attributed to this bias.
The creche that we found recently is exceptional, and it’s a joy to pick our content toddler each evening. I understand that it’s a tough line of business with stringent regulations. However, if the private sector model of childcare is to be supported, adequate subsidies are needed in order to meet the demand for childcare spaces and to pay competitive salaries to retain talented carers and educators.
The article was written by Dr Clare Moriarty, an Irish Research Council postdoctoral fellow at Trinity College Dublin.