I’ve been a little too busy to catch up until now, but I wanted to share the sad thing that happened when Friday came and I had to leave my little 11-month-old for the first time at daycare, and for a full day.
As always, I aimed to leave early to drop the wee one off with lots of time to settle and explain, and have no fears of being late to the first aid course I needed to re-certify in to maintain my license as an ECE. Of course, I left about the time I had planned to be at the home daycare. Classic Hannah. I still haven’t quite perfected getting myself and the Hamster ready on time.
We rushed through goodbyes and brief explanations of what I’d brought for Baby Z (I was feeling pretty thankful I was leaving her in very experienced hands), and I headed off to practice saving lives. No tears were shed, and I felt pretty confident that all would be well until I came back that afternoon. Not too bad for a first time Mama, I’d say.
The course went well, and I had apparently joined on with the right group. The high school custodians that made up the group (aside from me) were constantly cracking jokes and telling stories, and being that the school had set up this course for them, there was a delicious variety of free coffee, treats and lunch they welcomed me to share with them. Being that I wouldn’t be nursing anyone for a number of hours, I was pretty happy when I realized I could help myself to an extra cup of caffeine. It was a pretty good day. It’s funny the delight I see in previously mundane activities now. Any chance to spend some time as a free-moving, free-thinking, solitary being without my 24/7 mama duties feels like a mini vacation.
All finished the course, certificate in hand, I headed back to rescue my poor darling who was surely missing her mama more than she ever had before. Apparently, she missed out on that memo, however.
Meeting the group of kidlets as they pulled up back at the daycare home at the same time, I was given nothing more than a casual “Oh hey. Ya, I know you. What are you doing back so soon?” from my quite content munchkin. Sitting inside, chatting about the day, I could barely keep my precious babe close to me as all she really seemed interested in doing was wriggling out of my grasp to play with the toys and children. She even put up a bit of a fuss when I gathered her and her things to leave. Alright, I see the separation anxiety at this point is mainly from my side.
So, although somewhat disappointed that I wasn’t more eagerly received by my big little girl, it’s very relieving to know that she’s more than capable of happily spending a day in someone else’s care. I can’t believe how much she’s grown and changed since her first weeks of life, where I could barely be away long enough to scrub the grease and puked-up milk out of my hair and off my neglected body.
Next step: sleepovers at Gramma and Grampa’s house. But let’s not rush it. I’m not feeling any resentment over snuggling my little love to sleep over and over every night (sometimes with ridiculous tactics).
This won’t last forever, so I’ll hold on as long as I can.