Summer 2007. I was sitting around a table with my Margarita Monday friends—three of whom were very pregnant—talking about how difficult it was to find child care for their soon-to-be-born babies. I was a store manager for Bath and Body Works, with a 10-month-old son of my own, juggling child care with working retail hours and a husband who worked full time and played drums in a popular country cover band. Far too many times, our son woke up confused and with the other parent after leaving the house with one and finding himself back at home with the other. So many handoffs in parks, bars, and parking lots were taking their toll on my ability to be the mother I wanted to be. And so, on a whim, I asked my friends, “Would you bring your children to me if I quit my job and started a child care?”