Daycare, Day Five

After a Friday that I am glad will never be repeated, and a weekend of clinginess including a trip in the car that gave us brief hysterics, I was definitely not looking forward to today's daycare event. We got ready like usual and went out the door as usual and arrived The Boy's daycare as usual and she was in a fine mood. We went to her daycare. She was fine. Smiling! Happy! Eager to play! We sat around. We chatted. We tried nursing but she was not keen. She wanted to have some fun. So I stood up to go.

"eh? EH? EHHHH!!!! EHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!"

She was not amused.

I got back into my car and drove it to where I could park. And cried. It feels so wrong, leaving her. I don't think that leaving children of her age is a great idea, and I miss her dreadfully. I want to be closer to her with every fibre of my being, but I don't see a way to do that. I can't work without some kind of care, and I want and need to work. So.

I went in to work. I worked. It was kind of nice to be thinking again. I ate lunch, had a walk, chatted with co-workers. Sat down at 2pm for some tea. Realized it was nice -- really nice -- to sit for a bit with some tea, to not be interrupted.

I left early, at 3:30. I'd been in touch with the daycare, they said I could come at the end of the day if I wanted, that she was "fine", but I didn't know just how she was, so I left early.

And I got there, and she was sitting at snack, and she looked up and saw me, and grinned. She grinned. She smiled and waved back at the caregiver who was with her. Flirted a little. She went with me over to the couch to nurse, but pointed outside. The other kids were all just heading out, and she wanted to go too, dammit! So we nursed, and went outside, and she wanted down, and wanted to play, and didn't want to go home.

I still hate this decision. I still hate leaving her, and I still think 12 months is too early. But it's a hell of a lot easier to do when she is obviously liking where she is, who she's with, and having fun.

Incidentally -- one of the reasons I love her daycare (even if I don't like leaving her there) is that they call to update me. They called post nap, and said she'd only slept for a short while, but that she'd been "resting" in the caregivers' arms for an hour or so. Yeah -- they cuddled her, for an hour. If she can't be with me, at least she's with people who really, honestly, seem to care for her.

Centipede Assassins

The Boy, backyard: AHHHH!!! AHHH!!! CENTIPEDE!!

Me: That's ok. Centipedes can't hurt you.

TB: Q (from daycare) says they can kill you!

Me: Oh, in some parts of the world centipedes are dangerous. But not here. The ones here aren't poisonous.

TB: They don't have to be poisonous to kill you!

Me: .... Well how do they do it then?

TB: They have KNIVES. In between their TEETH. I saw them kill some guy!

Me: .....



Do five year olds have special hallucinogenics?

In other, much more amusing news ...

So my son informs me last night that "it's very dangerous to have a splinter in you and not get it out because it will CATCH ON FIRE!!"

When I laughed out loud, long and hard, at this news, he then huffily explained to me that since the source of this information was "at least 45" (i.e. older than me) that the older informer in question must be right.

Ah the land of kids, where the older you are, the smarter / more knowledgeable you are.

It wasn't until The Man heard this story this morning that he realized that what The Boy had probably heard and misinterpreted was that splinters left in skin can become INFLAMED.

I laughed long and hard at that one too. But for different reasons -- mostly that the word nerd in me hadn't ever put that together.

Back to work blues

I spent the morning feeling lost and overwhelmed. It was her third day at daycare, my third back at work. She was eager to get out of the house, and fine with being left -- she barely batted an eyelid as I left her, just as she has been each morning so far. When I went to get her she cried for the first time, but had been fine all day. A little fussing here and there, but generally very good tempered, talking and laughing and enjoying her little self.

But me. I am a little lost without her. Foggy. Missing something. Wishing for her. Missing the endorphin rush from breastfeeding her.

And I sit in my office, and wonder what I'm doing, and re-think this decision, and I comfort myself with thoughts of a job change, of quitting in six months once my contract is done. You never know.

I sit and wish I could move away and start all over again, taking my cozy and comfy family, just the four of us, away.

And then despite it all, despite the uncertainty of my decision and the uncertainty of the future, I feel lucky, because I have so much, everything I ever need, in just three other people.

Now it's a saga

So my daughter. And the eating. Oy vey. I wrote a while back that she'd started eating. And she had. She'd started sticking things in her mouth -- toys, food, and her own fingers! -- and stopped gagging. So much. I bought baby food. She ate it. Ay me! It's all fixed!

Not so much though. Because she's one and purees are IT. That's all she can get down. The other day I managed to get her to eat a bit of very over cooked rice and overcooked carrot. They were ALMOST puree but not quite. And that was a major victory. A whole new accomplishment.

She's ONE. Most babies, by this age, apparently, can eat dry cheerios. I wouldn't know, I never had a baby who could do that at one. (I don't breed gifted eaters, it seems.) But still. My last baby wouldn't have gagged on mushy rice. He might not have liked it, but I wasn't forever hauling him out of the high chair to whack him on the back to prevent choking, is what I'm saying.

The infant development people think that she's "delayed" and would probably figure it out, but why not help her out with a little therapy -- OT, speech therapy, what have you. But not now. Not in May, when she's started daycare, let's start in June so she's not stressed out by too much at once. Which frustrates me because I should probably have started in April, but I put it off. I was just so relieved she was eating that I just kinda figured it was all fixed and would go away on it's own.

The pediatrician, who I saw today, thinks it's possible she's got a little esophageal stenosis (narrowing. Just narrowing. To save you looking it up.) going on and so we should get an upper GI xray with barium and ... stuff. And then insert a balloon to blow up her esophagus. Because maybe that's why she can't swallow anything thicker than puree.

Uh. Yeah.

It's so strange how something that's just a non-issue at 6 months turns into a personal idiosyncrasy at nine months turns into an annoyance and a worry at 10 months and into full on hospital time at 12. What's even more strange is that her growth is great, 50th percentile for weight and 75th (!!) for height, so ... well, clearly she ain't starving. Oh, yeah, I know, she can't survive solely on breastmilk for too many years but it's also not like she's losing weight and not thriving. She's thriving, baby. She's thriving.

Sigh.

Anyway. The referral for the upper GI takes a month or so, so I have a month to get her to eat a Cheerio so I can cancel the whole procedure. Wish me luck.

Seizing the moment

I used this morning's (mostly dismal) election results to educate my son about "making the best of a bad (dismal) situation".

Sigh.

(conservative majority? Really Canada? I have no words. I feel like I don't know my own country any more.)

May

Blogging has been very hard with a mobile baby, and back-to-work prep, and wanting to just spend as much as time as possible away from screens, frankly. I've been spending my sparse spare time at the new daycare, acclimatizing The Girl -- not leaving her, of course, but visiting and letting her get a feel for the place and the people. She's been enjoying it, and it paid off in spades this morning when I waved bye-bye and there was No. Crying.

Seriously.

At all.

I mean, from her. I left her there, walked out to my car for my things, sat down and cried. I'm going to miss my baby, miss my easy days at home, miss having a relatively clean house, miss having time to myself, and miss most of all the rainy afternoons when I'd crawl into bed with my daughter and lay there half asleep while she snoozed, feeling her tiny body calmly sleeping cuddled against me.

It's not like any of this is over and done with. There will just be a lot less of it. Which is sad.

Anyway I am thrilled she survived her first hour without me. (Daycare initiation: one hour the first day. Two the next. etc.) Totally thrilled and pleased she had a good time.

And totally aware that this is Not Over Yet.

An hour means no eating and no sleeping. Heck she was only just getting tired for her first nap when I got back. Everything changes with a sleepy baby. Or a hungry one.

But you know, one hurdle at a time. This first one we scaled with ease, and I can't tell you how happy that makes me. There's nothing worse than walking away, smiling, from a screaming, reaching baby. And not having to do that today was a gift.

* * * * *

In other news, we're having a federal election today. We're also having a provincial by-election in this area, so our mail has been FULL of campaign stuff recently. I appreciate it, most of it. But one of my biggest pet peeves is negative campaigning. Don't send me stuff about the bad things your opponents have done, or will do. Tell me what You Will Do for me. I can make up my own mind. It's insulting to me as a citizen, and can I just say? Politics is full of negativity. The world is full of negativity. Be positive for a change. Put that out there.

I won't vote for you on principle otherwise.