Day Care

I should be used to it by now, the crying. On Jack's first day ever, way back when, I left him at that day care center bawling his eyes out, drove straight to work, marched into my boss's office, shut the door, and burst into tears. It was heart wrenching, which was exactly what Jack wanted it to be, for me. But he quickly got used to the place and eventually stopped the show of tears every morning. The truth was, he loved it there, and he and I both knew it. Javy, who is the Most Unflappable Baby on the Planet, never shed a single tear. It's only now that he has turned two and feels the need to demonstrate some degree of willfulness that he will occasionally lie down on the floor and sob in protest when I leave him. Even Eli adjusted pretty quickly to the whole day care thing and hardly ever cried when I dropped him off.

And I guess I'm a little less susceptible to it now. I'm certainly not crying as I write this, just like I'm pretty sure the babies aren't crying any more. And also, don't get me wrong here, I love day care. I love dropping my kids off somewhere where there are other kids and grown ups and things to do that are different from the things to do at home. I love being able to stop by my house and take a shower or do the dishes or have a cup of coffee and not be instantly tackled and needed and distracted into child care instead of whatever the hell it was I went home for. I love letting someone else change their diapers and play with them and otherwise entertain them so I can just be myself for a change, so I can be ALONE for a change.

It's been a week, now. They're going for two half-days and two full-days each week until the end of August, when it will be full-time. I know they're having a good time there, I like the teachers, the classrooms, the outside play spaces, it's all good. But Lordy, I hate leaving my babies in tears.