It was the moment I have dreaded--the fear and frustration. I stutter stepped at the door not sure that I could face the other side. I forced myself to take a quick peak at the impending chaos and end of life as I know it!
And there they are...little, snotty monsters smiling their come-and-get-me-if-you-dare grins and gnawing on otherworldly creatures of plush blue and red. Devious laughter and outstretched slobbery fingers.
It. Is. Daycare.
Can I do it? Can I leave Addison within the reaches of 10 other virus ridden children? Children who I am sure will eagerly share their boogers and spit.
I have no choice. I reluctantly leave her in the arms of the gentlest looking "teacher" I can spot hoping that maybe she just won't ever put her down on the floor with the herd of other needy kids. I take a step to the door and look back, another step and look back, another step and look back, and then slowly close the door behind me peaking through the window with sudden regret and anxiety. Remembering that I am the strong mother who has decided that she will not be the mother who cries over leaving her child in the church nursery, I shed only one solitary tear...until I get to the car and then 5 minutes later I wipe my face and readjust my mascara.
In reality, the first week was little hairy with some crying and her first cold, but now the crying has limited itself to nose wiping or face cleaning. In fact, the most recent day care report is that she does nothing but smile and talk. She wants to sit with the bigger kids when they eat their solid foods and is too entertained to take a regular nap.
Thankfully Addison is cheerful as a morning baby. She would easily sleep to 7 am but my school schedule mandates that she get up at 5:30. Her daytime schedule is slowly starting to mold to the day care schedule and seems worn out with excitement when she gets home. She always falls asleep in the car and continues to sleep through the night.
Each day she comes home in a different set of clothes than what we sent her in because she is drooling through her onsie. With three teeth and more on the way, two sets of clothes a day seems the new norm.
Our new nightmare is that we will miss her "firsts." Will she crawl first at day care? Say her first word to the teacher? Stand for the first time on their play equipment?
