Torre started daycare last week, and I’ve been kind of a mess about it. In so many ways it has been a solution we needed because our families are not near enough to help, and our paycheques do not stretch to cover babysitters (although we have been blessed with gracious friends who let us grossly underpay them!), and I have been back and forth between finding myself and losing myself in the daily rhythms of outings to the park and a peanut butter sandwich for lunch before nap and waiting-for-daddy-to-come-home.
Writing this out makes my eyes well up because it touches so close to the very tender place of how deeply I love my son as well as to the brittle-as-glass fear that I am not enough as a parent. Starting daycare has been hard because of the gut-wrenching goodbyes, the ache of missing him through the day that is different from when I’d go to work and Matt took care of him. It has been hard because of the relief that is nestled like a peach pit in a big ball of guilt. I can run errands or see friends or paint my nails without timing it around his naps and without wondering what he’s gotten into that is keeping him so quiet in the other room.
When I picked him up from daycare today, they were outside and we ran toward each other like it was a movie and I was returning from war. I scooped him up and spun around, and the joy of reuniting almost convinced me that this is okay – missing each other all day and having only an hour or two before bedtime to snuggle and read books and watch firetrucks on youtube. Continue reading “Daycare”