Thursday, July 29, 2010

Now your shirt looks like your heart feels...

JB did a ten minute, "NO, MOMMY... DON'T GO... PLEASE... NO...ONE MORE MINUTE... PLEASE, ONE MORE KISS..." hysterical dance at day care drop off this AM, complete with sputtering, stammering, real tears and copious facial mucus.

Extracting myself was somewhat...


He loves his new school and his teachers...
(SIDEBAR: Oooo... remind me to tell you what happened at his old school)
And we have a standard drop off routine that is generally tear free...
But this week has been harder for him for some reason.

Maybe because it has been a hard week for us (his moms).
Maybe because he's been getting to bed too late.

Dropping the boys off at day care is tough on my spirit anyway.
It's not that I think I would be the greatest stay-at-home mom; I'm pretty sure I would not be as patient as their current care givers.  And it's not that I think it would be better for them to be at home during the day ...Call it denial or self substantiation, but I have really "bought into" the "day care is really good for kids" shtick. 

My kids have thrived at day care.  They are surrounded by a team of smart, generous, loving people.  They are showered with praise and affection. They are learning and enjoying new things and people (and songs and stories and toys) every day.  They are exposed to and building up epidemiologically significant levels of immunity to all sorts of pathogens.

It's just that...
It is a long time to be away from them (work day + commute time). 
And sometimes in the AM, it is such a relief to drop them off, that I know I must be a bad person. 
Bottom line: It is hard to drop them off when they are happy to be there, and it's even harder to drop them off when they put their heads down and cry (ML) or beg for you to not leave them (JB).

But today, after the trauma/drama at drop off, I drove to work feeling 2 parts melancholy and 1 part numb.  I tried to turn it around and  committed to making it a better day than yesterday.  When I got to the office and saw myself in the bathroom mirror:  My black shirt has all these white patches and smudges where JB's moist protestations of abandonment were left on my lower abdomen...

And that explains the post's title.

Sent from my iphone

1 comment:

Katie and Yemi said...

Awww... this totally sums it up for me. I actually referenced this very same idea in my blog today. However, I've bought in too and do think they're better off with me at work.

Now for the big question... what's the story with the old daycare?