I grew up watching my younger siblings being raised by someone who made them feel completely safe — not through rules or routines, but through her presence. She paid attention. She remembered things. She treated them like their feelings mattered. I didn't have a word for it then, but I knew I wanted to give that to other children. I've been doing this for eleven years and that's still why I show up.
I work from an RIE foundation — which means I observe before I intervene, I follow the child's lead, and I create environments where they feel genuinely safe to be themselves. In practice that looks like unhurried mornings, no forced anything, and a lot of time on the floor. I don't believe in managing children into compliance. I believe in earning their trust and working with their nature rather than against it.
It means I take the child seriously. A two-year-old who is melting down over a sock isn't being dramatic — they are genuinely overwhelmed. Respectful caregiving means I don't dismiss that. I get down to their level, I name what I see, and I give them space to feel it without rushing them through it. In practice it looks like slow mornings, no forced hugs, asking before picking a child up, and never using shame as a tool. It also means I'm honest with parents — if I see something that concerns me developmentally, I say so.
I don't try to stop it — I try to be with them in it. A meltdown is a child's nervous system doing exactly what it's supposed to do when they're overwhelmed. My job is to stay regulated myself so they have somewhere safe to land. I get low, I keep my voice calm, and I stay close without crowding them. I don't offer distractions or bribes. Once they come through the other side, we reconnect — a hug if they want one, a bit of quiet, and then we move on without making it a big event.
I don't use punishment. I use limits — clear, consistent, and explained simply. "We don't hit. Hitting hurts." And then I redirect. If a child is throwing toys, I don't take them away as punishment — I say "toys aren't for throwing, let's find something you can throw" and I mean it. Day to day it means I'm predictable. Children behave better when they know what comes next, so I focus on structure and routine over rules and consequences. If a child keeps testing a limit, I ask myself what they need, not how to stop the behaviour.
I say something. Not in the moment with the child present — but I come back to it when things are calm. I've learned that the caregivers who never push back don't last, because resentment builds, and children feel that. I try to come from curiosity rather than criticism: "Can I share what I noticed?" goes a lot further than "I disagree with how you did that." And if a parent decides to do it their way after hearing me out, I respect that. Their child, their call. I just need to know I said it.
Yes — but only when there's been an honest conversation about roles upfront. The situations that go wrong are the ones where nobody decides who is in charge in any given moment. I'm comfortable being the primary caregiver while a parent is home, as long as we've agreed on that. What I'm not comfortable with is being second-guessed in front of the child, or having the boundaries shift depending on the day. Clarity from the start makes everything work. I actually enjoy working alongside present parents when the dynamic is clear — it often means a more connected child.
I remind myself that the child is not doing anything to me — they're doing something because of something happening inside them. That reframe helps enormously. On hard days I also lean on rhythm: if everything feels chaotic, I go back to basics — snack, outside time, something familiar. I don't push through tiredness with performance. If I'm struggling, I keep things simple. I'd also rather tell a parent "it was a hard day" than pretend it wasn't — honesty is easier than a mask.
I give a brief end-of-day handover — what we did, what they ate, how nap went, anything notable. If something needs a longer conversation I flag it rather than dumping it at pick-up when everyone is tired. I don't over-message during the day — parents hire me so they don't have to think about it for a few hours. But I do reach out immediately if something medical, safety-related, or emotionally significant happens. I'd rather over-communicate once than have a parent feel out of the loop.
One where I'm trusted. I work best in households where parents hire me because they believe in my approach, not despite it. I thrive when I have autonomy during the day, clear expectations, and a family that communicates directly. I'm less comfortable in households where the goalposts move a lot, or where I'm expected to defer to extended family or household staff on childcare decisions. I do well in busy, high-functioning households — I'm calm in complexity — but I need to know who I'm accountable to.
Probably that I'm calmer than they expected. I think I come across as quite direct in interviews and families sometimes brace for a rigid caregiver. But in the actual day-to-day I'm very relaxed — I don't need things to be perfect, I don't need the house to be silent at nap time, I don't need a strict routine to the minute. I just need the big things to be consistent. I think families are often surprised by how easy it is to have me around.