Stellar Mother

Today I dropped off my son at day care for the first time and I wept with guilt.

Let me explain.

Two weeks ago, my husband had a full day of work-related errands – going to the hardware store, buying new tools – and he offered to take our 15 month old son with him as we both agreed father & son would like the manly bonding time.

I, of course, was in favor of such bonding time because for me, it meant a DAY OFF from toddler time.

And here’s the announcement: I’m pregnant!  It’s still early days (9 weeks), but for the past month or so I’ve been bombarded with the waves of nausea and the crippling bouts of fatigue that come with the territory of the first trimester.  So a day off from entertaining a ‘live wired’ toddler was just what I needed.

So I watched my two men drive away in the morning and they didn’t return until dinner time.  Both returned home exhausted from the day’s activities, while I was well rested from my 2-hour nap.  I was relaxed from laying in bed and reading for a few hours.  And I was excited to see my son again because honestly, I missed him.

A few days later, my son & I walked past the local day care center.  It was a beautiful day and the kids were outside playing, laughing, and having all sorts of fun.  My son looked up at me like, “I want to play with the kids, Mom!”  And still fresh from the relaxing day off, I began to consider of the benefits of part-time Day Care.

Let me clarify that I do not have another job; I am a ‘full time mother’ and ‘housewife’ and ‘domestic goddess’ (yeah right).  My husband, a full time self-employed builder, does not see why I would put our son into daycare ‘to let someone else raise him’ when I am not returning to work and therefore will ‘just be sitting at home all day’ (which is what he thinks I do anyway – hah!).

So the ‘benefits’ of part-time day care were initially completely selfish.  But this wasn’t enough.  I had to investigate the benefits for my son.

So we went to the center and while I chatted with the director, my boy ran off to play with the kids.  Just ran off and didn’t look back.  He didn’t even look back!  ”He has great confidence,” the director said.  ”This is a good sign,” I told myself.

The director explained the center believes in ‘learning through playing,’ which is how little ones learn social & developmental skills that they can’t necessarily develop at home playing with Mom all day.  The carers were nurturing, the facilities were clean & child-friendly, and the toys looked really fun.  It felt right.

So after three ‘play & stays’ (self-explanatory: son spent a few hours at the center while mother hung out so he could comfortably get used to the environment), I decided that one day a week day care would be a positive step for my little boy.  A positive step for both of us.

So this morning, we got out his Dr. Seuss backpack & we packed it full of snacks, water bottle, and his beloved Elmo.  My eyes started to sting.  He climbed into the pram and then my guilt set in.  We walked to the center and, again, he ran off without looking back.

My tears flowed.

Through my tears I attempted unsuccessfully to chat with one of the carers, but I found myself wishing my son would come up and reassure me that this was good for him… which actually would have been incredible because his vocabulary is limited to mama, dada, truck, and gecko.  But you know what I mean.

So this was it.  I dried my tears and walked over to him playing with the trucks.  I gave him a big hug, a big kiss, and told him I would see him in a few hours.  And he gently pushed me aside because I was in the truck route to the sand pit.

I walked home, heavy with guilt, and called my mother.  I cried and told her what happened.  And like a good mother, she shared with me the time she cried the first time I drove to school with my drivers license.  At least I know the weeping thing is genetic.  My mother also reassured me that part time day care would be good for our whole family – even the little one on the way.

So I tried to ‘enjoy’ myself today.  I didn’t.  I couldn’t take that relaxing nap.  And I couldn’t lose myself in a good book.  Instead I watched the clock, waiting for the time I would pick him up later that day.

That time did come, and I floated to the center eager to see my son.  His little embrace was the best one I’ve had in a long time, and the smile he gave me was incredible.  The carers assured me he had a great day, but I could tell my little boy was ready to leave.

And I was more than happy to bring him home.