Why I Started Infant Atelier

I’ve been a nanny for 18 years, which is long enough that the work has shaped almost every idea I have about children.

I’ve spent a lot of my adult life inside other people’s homes, learning the small rhythms of their families. Bottles, naps, floor play, difficult separations, the exact song that works in the car. I know how intimate it is to care for someone else’s baby, and how much trust is being handed over along with the diaper bag.

Then I had Zosia and understood that trust from the other side. I knew intellectually that leaving your baby with someone is hard. I hadn’t understood how physical it can feel.

Somewhere in that overlap, between being a nanny and becoming a mother, I started imagining Infant Atelier.

The idea I couldn’t shake

I wanted to keep what I love about private care: familiar adults, unrushed routines, and the kind of knowing that comes from seeing the same child day after day. I wanted parents to know exactly who was holding and comforting their baby.

But I kept imagining a little more around it. A small group of other children. A room made for infants instead of a living room we were constantly adapting. A garden that was part of the day. Another caregiver to think and work alongside.

Not a tiny school. Not a busy schedule of enrichment. Just four children, Gillian and me, and enough time to actually notice what is going on.

I wanted the intimacy of a nanny without asking one adult to do everything alone.

The uncomfortable math

Four children and two caregivers means a 1:2 ratio. I love what that makes possible. If one baby needs a long bottle or someone is having a hard drop-off, the whole room doesn’t have to become urgent.

It also makes the business a gamble.

The biggest expenses are rent and Gillian’s wages. I want to say that plainly because “beautiful infant program” can sound like the money is going toward tiny furniture and lovely baskets. Those things are in the room, but the real cost is a dedicated place and another skilled person.

I want Gillian to be paid well. Eventually I want to offer her more benefits. If the room feels calm and thoughtful, I want it to be because the person providing the care is genuinely supported, not because what it costs her is hidden.

At the same time, childcare already costs families so much. I keep sitting with that contradiction. There isn’t a clever answer I’ve found yet. With only three tuition-paying families, the numbers are the numbers.

I wonder about community events that could raise money for partial scholarships. Maybe a garden gathering or a family art morning. Maybe that is unrealistic. I don’t know yet, and I don’t want to announce a heartwarming solution before I’ve figured out whether it could actually last.

The room downstairs

Technically, Infant Atelier is being prepared as a California small family child care home. Our license application is in progress, and no care will begin before the license is issued.

But the children won’t be folded into the middle of our family’s living space. There is a separate downstairs unit with a main room, a nap room, and the garden just up the exterior stairs. I’ve been painting it, collecting materials, moving things around, and then moving them again.

I care a lot about how it feels down there. I want it to be calm and beautiful, but not precious. A baby should be able to empty the basket, carry one wooden object around all morning, crawl away from the activity I thought they would love, and make the room their own.

Infant Atelier will run Tuesday through Thursday. That won’t work for every family. I’ve had to resist trying to make the idea answer every possible childcare need. Three days can still become a real rhythm: the same place, the same people, the same small group returning each week.

What I’m hoping

I use the word “elevated,” and sometimes I worry it sounds like I’m trying to make infant care luxurious. What I mean is that infancy deserves our full regard. Feeding someone, helping them sleep, waiting while they try to do something themselves, and telling a parent honestly how the day went are not the background tasks. They are the day.

I’m not certain this business model will work. That is the honest part. I’m asking whether a few families will value care this small enough to sustain it.

But after all these years of adapting myself to other people’s homes, I want to try building the place I kept wishing existed.