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Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Awesome Week, Thanks

Monday was the Bean’s first day of “school.” She’s so brave, she didn’t cry when I dropped her off. I did, though. My eyes got wet as drove down the I-5 on ramp en route to work in Vancouver. I teared up because I was abandoning my baby girl. Leaving her in the care of strangers to fend for herself. I'm paying someone else to take care of her so I can go earn slightly more money to help take care of other people. Makes, sense, right?
Like how I called it school? That’s to make myself feel better for sending her to daycare. As a result of a lot of self-reflection as of the late, Alex and I have come to the conclusion that we feel so weird about the whole daycare sitch because of our belief system – we both associate daycare with poor families, or those who don’t love their kids. Where’d we get these crazy beliefs? From our own childhood, I imagine. We were both raised by our mothers. Sure, maybe they worked sometime in late elementary to early high school, but we never had to think about who would take care of us when we weren’t in school. Everyone we knew had a dad who worked and a mom who was home after school or drove them to and from soccer practice. I remember being a kid and feeling sorry for those kids who had to stay after school or go to KinderCare because their parents had to work and couldn’t pick them up until evening. I remember feeling bad for them, assuming both their parents worked because they were poor. And if they weren't poor, then their moms certainly didn't love them very much. I distinctly remember when I met my college roommate, Molly, and she told me that her mom was a successful lawyer who returned to work when Molly was just 3 months old. “How could a mom do that?!?” I remember thinking, exasperated. “Didn’t she love her daughter? Why have a baby if you're not even going to take care of it?!?”
So yeah, only the poor and neglected need childcare. Riiiiigggggghhhhhtttttt. Some spoiled little shits we are. Anyway, Francie made it to the ripe ole age of nearly 17 months before having her first foray in daycare. Between my maternity leave, Alex's summer break, my generous mother-in-law and best friend, my unemployment, my generous mother-in-law, and Alex's summer break, the Bean hasn't had to fend for herself much away from home.

So that part about her not crying at daycare? Ha. She'll do me one better. Not only did she cry, she cried for 3+ hours before finally falling asleep from exhaustion. Apparently she was decently consolable after her nap, but just sobbed "mamamamamamadadadadada" all. morning.long. Separation anxiety? Check.

And because Alex has not officially started the school year, and we therefore have not officially started daycare, we are also using my dad to help get us through this next week. Apparently she hates him, too, and chanted "dadadadadadadadadada" (see "Daddy's Girl" post) for a few hours in the a.m. before finally falling asleep for a nap. This is how she spent time with her BDA:



The thing is, part of me was looking forward to this whole daycare business. I am eager to see in what ways the Bean grows and learns. I'm interested to see what she's like in a social situation without parental oversight, how she interacts with her peers, and with her teachers. I'm curious to see how her communication and/or motor skills develop differently. I like the idea of her being comfortable with a wider variety of people, kids and adults alike. But now I fear she's a shy, co-dependent introvert who will never wean and can't be more than 36 inches from her parents (daddy).  I know, I know, this too shall pass. But when it comes to parenting, the amazing things seem to fly by, and the not-so-awesome things feel like they kinda linger (I'm thinking nightwakings, teething, colds, daddy preferences ... )

Aside from the dreaded separation anxiety, the other part about daycare that gives me pause is the lack of communication. In this day and age, I'm in near-constant contact with friends, family, colleagues, neighbors, etc. Yet the very person I am most interested in checking in on - the Bean - can't use her iPhone yet. And I don't imagine her teachers will be providing me with their personal cell phone numbers. When Alex watches her I get texts like this, letting me know when I can spy on her:



Or like this, letting me know when the Bean wants to say hi to mama:



And when Chris watched her, we got updates like this, about her napping and her lunch:


Or like this, with cute pictures of her playing:


And even when she's with Al, we get newsy texts (even if they break my heart/make me laugh out loud):



But with daycare? No texts. No photos. No frequent reports on mood, sleep, poopy diapers, or diet. I'll have to get used to just trusting that all is well, that no news is good news, and just look forward to the end of the day when I get to pick her up and she'll (presumably) be happy to see me. We'll give Blue Skies & Butterflies another chance twice next week, before going to the regular Monday-Wednesday schedule beginning in September.

So between the stress of daycare anxiety and BDA anxiety, on top of a busy caseload and negotiating Alex's new soccer coaching schedule, I was ready to call it a week already. And then this morning I was woken up at 5 a.m. to my baby crying from a pile of barf. Gross. And confusing. I was still half-asleep, and noticed a bad smell emanating from her crib, and checked her for diarrhea. Diaper was clean and dry. Then noticed the chunky bits in her hair, all over her clothing, and saturating her Soothie. Again, gross. We got all CSI about it. "What time did you go to bed? So she must have gotten sick sometime between midnight and 5 a.m." "The consistency of the bodily fluid resembles strawberries and bread." "Differential diagnoses include GI virus, meningitis, UTI, or stress." "Did she have anything weird to eat?" "Do YOU feel sick? What did you eat?" She seemed in good enough spirits, despite smelling like that one bar in college - not the one with the shuffleboard - and we whisked her away for an early, extra bath.

And then I ended my day at the park this evening with the Bean, my pants around my ankles, nursing a major welt near my crotch. Because somehow a honey bee made its way into my pants, flew up my leg, wanting nothing to do with a woman on the rag, and stung me on its way out. I immediately called Alex to tell him the news. He was worried something happened to the baby. He denied this as an "event," although I swear a bee sting is a big deal. Next time he stubs his toe I'm so not giving him any sympathy.

And the week's not even half over.

1 comment:

  1. Oh, mama---big hugs! The transition to sending a child to daycare is NOT easy!! I am a big fan of daycare for my kiddos but it took me a while to get there....it's an adjustment!! But give it some time, and remind yourself of the positives of socialization and interaction with authority figures other than family. Bean will be alright!!

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