When it comes to people talking about me behind my back about me, I'm fine. When people talk about me behind my back about my ability to care for A, I'm not.
Now mind you, I know these people don't have a whole hell of a lot to talk about because I am a damn good caregiver, and they know this, but it doesn't stop them from nit-picking.
Do I get credit for keeping A clothed and fed, which was more than her parents could do half of the time? No.
Do I get credit for keeping A properly bathed, which was more than her parents could do half of the time? No.
Do I get credit for getting A's immunizations, which was more than her parents ever did? No.
Do I get credit for A being in school, which was more than her parents ever did? No.
You know what I get credit for? Her dirty shoes. Yes people, dirty shoes.
A has at least ten pairs of shoes, all either bought second hand (always gently used, never worse than) or on deep clearance. (I'm cheap.) Most of them? I can't keep clean. Why? Because A is hard on shoes. I figured it was just because she was a child, but apparently it's because I suck.
I'm okay with that, though. I'll take her dirty shoes as a sign that she is enjoying her childhood over the stress of worrying if she's being properly cared for any day of the week.