'Miss Millie'
Everyone's mom.
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— Pablo
The birth of a 40-year nickname
On the days my mom and I would take the bus, she’d treat me to a chocolate milk before school. There was a little take-out coffee shop across the street from our bus stop. She ordered, and I watched the man pump liquid chocolate into a paper cup with milk. The coffee shop was only a couple of blocks away from my school, but I always finished it before we got there. I have never tasted a better chocolate milk in my life. I don’t think I ever will.
I went to Holy Rosary Academy, a Roman Catholic elementary school in Union City, New Jersey. My mom worked there as a teacher’s assistant. The first year I attended, I wasn’t a student. The nuns just let me tag along since my mom couldn’t leave me with anyone. I was a quiet kid, so it worked out. I kept close to my mom and did the schoolwork.
At the end of the year, Sister Gertrude, the school principal, asked me if I wanted to go to the first grade since I’d done all the work. With no hesitation, I declined because I knew it would mean being in a classroom without my mom, so I did kindergarten twice. I was a mama’s boy. Still am.
My mom got the nickname “Miss Millie” at Holy Rosary. Her actual name is “Milagros,” which translates to “Miracles,” but none of the sisters who ran the school spoke Spanish, so they called her Millie for short. The name stuck. More than 40 years later, kids still call her Miss Millie.
The beginning of a 30-year business
In 1996, my mom and my sister started a daycare center. My dad could no longer be trusted to provide, though he never really could. My mom’s wages at Holy Rosary weren’t enough to cover all of our expenses, which forced her to juggle multiple jobs, including working the register at the local Dunkin’ Donuts. I got into the habit of doing my homework at Dunkin’ Donuts to keep her company.
She would close at midnight and then prepare the donuts, which took another two or three hours, only to get up three hours later to take me to school. One night, just before closing, a man came in and asked my mom if he could borrow some change. He was eyeing the plastic tip cup, which would fetch my mom a few measly bucks.
“You know what?” he said. “I’ll just take this.”
He snatched the money and left.
My sister knew something had to give. In addition to Dunkin’ Donuts and Holy Rosary, my mom worked at a daycare center after school and used her station wagon as unofficial taxi we affectionately called “The Ride” to drive other kids to and from school.
Since my mom already worked at a daycare center, talks of starting a business together naturally gravitated toward a daycare. My mom didn’t have money saved up; she was barely able to tread water. My sister, however, had managed to save $20,000 (today, it’s more than double that) working at a law firm in the city that she affectionately called “Jimmy’s,” which was the name of the principal, a kooky but good-hearted older guy. My sister used that money to open the daycare with my mom.
Now it was my sister’s turn to work multiple jobs. She would open the day care at 7:00 a.m., head into the city to work at Jimmy’s, go to the daycare after hours to do office work (financials, administrative, etc.) and, finally, clean the daycare for the next day. What was her reward? Grueling work with little return.
The daycare wasn’t a financial bonanza. The margins were too small. It wasn’t an easy business, either. Besides the nonstop work of taking care of small children, there were a lot of hoops to jump through, such as navigating government programs and state inspections, for example.
The daycare endured many trials, including Covid (childcare can’t be done remotely) and a betrayal by a former employee that crippled and almost shuttered the daycare, but it, like they, persevered.
The daycare might not have been a financial windfall, but it was turning point for the family. Without having to depend on my dad, my mom helmed the finances in our house. As a result, things started to go better for us.
My sister hasn’t worked at the daycare in a long time but without her, the daycare wouldn’t have happened. Though my sister’s path forward from the daycare was less straightforward, she ultimately found her way to her dream of becoming a novelist. If you have found any of this post interesting, consider checking out her website, since much of her writing incorporates elements from our upbringing and family dynamics.
A legacy of caring
This August, the daycare will have been in business for 30 years. During that time, my mother has taken care of upwards of 1,000 children, all of whom have all called her Miss Millie. She has taken care of generations of children, including one of my best childhood friends, Juan, whom she taught in kindergarten. Decades later, he sent his boys to my mom’s daycare. Hell, my mom even let one of my best friends and college roommate, Wythe, stay at her house, twice, one time without me. They started calling him Replacement Pablo!
She’s a fixture in her corner of New Jersey because she essentially raised it. That’s one hell of a legacy. There’s nothing greater than the love of a mother, and she shared that with an entire community. Knowing firsthand what kind of mother she is, I’m happy for them. They couldn’t have done any better.
More stories about family:
Latino Enough. Never American Enough.
What a beautiful tribute to your mother. She sounds like a lovely woman. ☺️💖