Somebody has to do the work

I don’t understand this idea that people shouldn’t have to work. Every single thing we enjoy exists because somebody got up in the morning and did a job. Somebody built the roads, grew the food, picked up the trash, stocked the shelves, built the houses, taught the kids, and kept the lights on.

People act like because America is already built, it will somehow keep running on its own. It won’t. Everything has to be maintained, repaired, replaced, and preserved. That requires work.

Life isn’t supposed to be a walk through a garden, tiptoeing through the tulips while everyone else pays your way. You’re supposed to contribute. You’re supposed to get up and do something. That’s how you appreciate what you have and how you gain pride in what you’ve earned.

I also don’t understand the idea that everyone should be their own boss and nobody should have to answer to anyone. If everyone owned a business, who would have the money to buy from those businesses? Society works because people fill different roles and depend on each other.

And no, I don’t think able-bodied adults should expect other taxpayers to support them while they choose not to contribute. People can give back in many ways—through a job, volunteering, mentoring, helping family, or serving their community. Everyone can contribute something.

Maybe this is my Gen X talking, but I was raised to believe that if you want something, you work for it. If you want a better life, you build it. And if you’re capable of contributing but choose not to, don’t expect everyone else to carry your load.

Somebody has to do the work. Otherwise, everything stops.

 

What the Hell Happened to My Eyebrows?

I knew getting older came with a few surprises.

I expected wrinkles. I expected random aches and pains that show up for no reason and stay longer than houseguests. I expected reading glasses. What I did not expect was for my eyebrows to quietly pack their bags and leave without so much as a goodbye note.

Seriously. What happened?

I didn’t shave them off during a wild phase in the ‘90s. Or pluck them into thin lines. (like the 90210 days). I’ve never been aggressive with eyebrow maintenance! Yet here I am, standing in front of the mirror, wondering if my eyebrows entered the Witness Protection Program. One day they were there, and the next they were so light I could barely find them.

And while I am on this rampage... WHY are new hairs popping up on my chin? It’s like my eyebrows are relocating to other parts of my face. Apparently, my body looked at the situation and said, “We’re moving the hair budget to another department.” I did not approve that transfer. What the hell?!

The good news is I’ve reached an age where I don’t panic about things like this anymore. Most women won’t leave the house without putting on lipstick. I won’t leave until I’ve drawn on a pair of eyebrows.

I am starting to laugh about it, but if anyone sees my missing eyebrows wandering around out there somewhere, tell them I’m looking for them. I’d really like them back.

The Questions That Kept Us Safer

Back when I was young, there were commercials reminding parents to ask their kids: Who? What? Where? Why? And How? Who are you with? What are you doing? Where are you going? Why are you going there? How are you getting there? It seemed simple, maybe even annoying at the time, but those questions probably kept more kids safe than we realized.

We also grew up hearing things like, “You are who you hang out with,” and “If I don’t know the parents, you’re not going.” We hated those rules as kids. As adults, I understand them completely.

Our parents wanted to know who was influencing us, whose house we were spending time in, whether there would be supervision, and if there was a safe way home. They checked in, set boundaries, and expected us to answer questions.

Parenting wasn’t about being your child’s best friend. It was about knowing their friends, knowing their families, paying attention to changes in behavior, trusting your gut, and being willing to say no.

Maybe those old questions and old rules weren’t controlling at all. Maybe they were one of the reasons so many of us made it safely to adulthood.

That’s a Wrap!

After 34 years in childcare, I did not sell my center because I wanted to. I sold because the system made it increasingly difficult to continue.

For decades, I did everything DHS asked of me. I became one of the first 2-Star centers in my county when the Star system was introduced. I earned additional credentials when master teachers became a requirement. I ensured my staff completed increasing training hours, maintained compliance with new regulations, achieved 5-Star status, and earned national accreditation. During COVID, we adapted yet again, providing virtual learning support and continuing to serve working families during one of the most difficult periods our industry has ever faced.

Every time DHS raised the bar, I met it. Every time new requirements were introduced, I invested in my program, my teachers, and my facility. I believed quality childcare mattered.

What I did not expect was for DHS to continually increase expectations while reducing the financial support needed to meet them. Subsidy reductions, eligibility changes, and unfunded mandates created a situation where providers were expected to deliver more services, hire more qualified staff, offer better benefits, maintain higher standards, and somehow do it with less revenue.

Quality childcare is expensive to provide. We were told to invest in continuity of care, teacher education, accreditation, and quality improvement. We did. Then the funding that helped support those efforts was taken away.

The reality is simple: childcare centers cannot operate at a loss. When government policies make quality care financially unsustainable, providers are left with two choices—lower their standards or leave the industry. I chose not to compromise the quality of care I spent 34 years building.

I was fortunate to have interested buyers and was able to sell. Many providers will not be so lucky. They will simply close their doors.

DHS says its mission is to support children and families. From where I stand, its policies are driving experienced providers out of the field and making quality childcare harder to find. After 34 years of adapting, complying, investing, and fighting to stay afloat, DHS did not just influence my decision to sell—it ultimately made it necessary.

Raven Carter,  Yukon OK