10 posts tagged “daycare”

I dropped off a very unhappy little boy this morning. In fact, as soon as we got into the classroom, he started to scream in terror and cling to me for dear life. He settled down a bit while I was signing the roster sheet (still holding him, mind you), only to freak out again when one of the teachers reached out to take him from me.

I have my suspicions of the cause of this, aside from the common separation anxiety. Lack of Mommy-time combined with a little cold and generally not feeling too great equals an unhappy baby.

Yesterday, I left work early after vomiting in the bathroom. Thankfully, I made it to the bathroom in order to do it. I cleared off my desk, told my boss I just threw up and needed to go home, and rushed home to my bed (which is not too far from the bathroom, thankfully). I don't know how many times I puked; I just know it wasn't a good scene.

I took The Boy to the doctor yesterday afternoon, and Dr W took a look at me, too. The Boy and I both have colds, and he's getting over the stomach bug that he just gave me. Oh joy, joy, joy. After the appointment, I drove home, called my husband to come out of the house and collect The Boy from my car, and rushed to the bathroom before going to bed. So The Boy did not have any Mommy-time last night (and the fact that I heard my husband tell him "Mommy doesn't want you in there" probably didn't help matters much).

We were fine this morning at the house. He woke up (on his own - I was in no rush to get out of bed this morning), and we cuddled and chatted for a little while before I changed his diaper (poopy - no diarrhea - but still a bad diaper rash) and dressed him in his clothes for school. Before breakfast, we played for a bit (his new favorite toy is an empty paper towel tube), I tried to teach him the word "egg", and he took out all his books from his bookcase. (I was in no shape to try and stop him.) Then, after a hearty breakfast of yogurt, Pirate Booty (because he has suddenly decided not to eat bananas), and a few sips of milk, we piled into the car and were on our way.

He was in such good spirits during the ride over. He pointed out the window and chatted about the things he saw (none of which I, of course, understood), and was otherwise in a great mood. He protested when I tried to clean his face before taking him out of the car, but even when we were on our way to the classroom, he seemed perfectly content.

But the moment we set foot into the room, he burst into tears. I felt so bad.

Even worse is that I'll need to stay late tonight to finish up month-end reporting. I only hope he'll forgive me in the morning!

I really don't want to be one of those mothers (you know, the kind who think they know better than anyone else), but I have to vent about one of the parents in The Boy's (now old) class.

Let me start by saying I think all children are born perfect. Whatever bad habits they may have later in life are picked up from those around them. I don't think there is or has ever been a newborn who deliberately works to vex his/her parents. Seriously.

That having been said, I believe we, as parents, are largely responsible for our children's bad actions. And our reactions to different situations are templates for our children to follow, as well.

Now onto my rant.

B is about two months younger than The Boy. He's a cute little kid, very bright-eyed, intelligent, and quite precocious. He used to be quite charming, but as he's gotten older (and shouts "No!" - very clearly - every chance he gets), he's lost a bit of that charm. Not that he can't get it back, mind you. He just needs to be reined in a bit.

B's mom is, well, let's just say not PLM (People Like Me). She's loud, brash, and pays no heed to current conventional childrearing wisdom. By that last I mean she started B on table foods at 3 months (not just baby food jars, mind you), has had him solely on whole milk since 8 months (yes, he was drinking cow's milk before I even started slowly introducing it to The Boy), and, most recently, has decided that B's current case of thrush is really no need to go to the doctor. Never mind that this is contagious, never mind that he's at an age where he wants to put everything in his mouth, never mind that there are seven other kids in that room who also want to mouth everything. He's also apparently not eating as much as he used to, which would totally be a red flag for me. Because the school isn't mandating that he be kept away from children until the thrush is gone or he is no longer contagious (which I don't get because if The Boy merely spits up I get a call and have to rush him to the doctor, but that's another story altogether), B's mom doesn't feel it's necessary to take him to the doctor!

Then it begs the question of whether this child even has his own doctor. The school only cares about immunizations, and those you can get through WIC, so, I don't know. And his case of thrush is so bad, it also makes me wonder if she even brushes this kid's teeth. [sigh]

Oh, yeah - and she refuses to put any creams or ointments on B, even when he has a severe diaper rash, because of his cloth diapers. And I know (because I've researched it before making the partial switch) there are a number of diaper rash creams that are suitable for cloth diaper use. She could also use a flushable liner, as we do, and use as much A&D as necessary. But I digress.

When the teacher told me about B's thursh issues and her confrontation with B's mom this morning, I was so glad that The Boy had spent most of this week in the Toddler Wing. And as much as I'll miss the teachers and seeing some of The Boy's other classmates, I'm also glad he'll be in the other classroom full-time on Monday.

I can only hope B doesn't follow him into the same class in two months.

We got a letter in the mail last night from The Boy's school. It was a congratulatory letter, letting us know that he is progressing very well and will be transitioning to the Toddler classroom on May 5.

No more baby. He's a full-fledged toddler.

This morning, I visited what will be his new classroom, and I spoke with one of the teachers. I had already met her when she was visiting some of the children in the Infant Wing, so I was familiar enough with her. We talked very briefly about what The Boy will be doing and what I can expect, and I was relieved to know that he won't need to fully transition to the hard-spout sippy cups for a few more weeks after transitioning. It was also nice to see a little girl in this new class who transitioned out of The Boy's current class about six months ago; he'll at least see a somewhat familiar face.

One thing I know is that I'll need to be a bit more vigilant about his diet when he gets to the new classroom. He still has problems with oats, and most of the morning and afternoon snacks they offer have oats in the ingredients. And since I'd really rather he eat more fruits and vegetables throughout the day (instead of only at lunch), I'll happily provide bananas and the like for him to eat. Plus, his doctor recommended holding off on even watered-down juice until he's at least two to ward off a sweet tooth and ensure he gets adequate fiber in his diet. Oh, and Dr. W also advised keeping him away from seafood for another couple of years because of my own allergy to shellfish. When I was a wee girl, I would have violent allergic reactions to any kind of seafood, and I'd rather not go through something similar with The Boy.

So, the gradual transition process begins next week, and he'll be there full-time beginning May 5. (Happy Cinco de Mayo! I wonder if they'll serve margaritas...) They do a gradual transition so it's not such a shock for the kids, and for that I'm grateful. I know that some of the other kids have cried and cried during the transition process, and I'm seriously hoping that The Boy will be okay. When I took him into the Toddler class this morning, he was very interested in looking at the kids and seeing what they were doing, but, of course, I was there and holding him the whole time, so it's not like he was on his own.

He'll also be going out to the playground twice a day every day, which will mean daily sunscreen application and daily baths. At least he likes taking baths, so that won't be an ordeal. Sitting still for sunscreen, though, is an entirely different story. He'll be allowed one nap per day at a pre-determined time (just after lunch, I think), but I didn't find out if they limit his napping time. Sometimes he'll nap for 15 minutes, but he might also stay asleep for three hours. It depends on what he feels like doing.

Oh, I have a strong feeling this transition process will be much tougher on me that it will be on The Boy.

The Boy awoke this morning at 4:45. I shouldn't complain; he only woke at 8:45 last night (just before I jumped into the shower), went back down at 9:30, and slept until almost 5 o'clock. But 4:45 in the morning is still way too early for me.

Anyway, this early awakening meant an early start to our day. After some quality time playing with Daddy and a flashlight and a much-needed diaper change, I fed him a hearty breakfast of yogurt, applesauce, and Corn Chex. He then had the opportunity to roam the house and play for about an hour before I took him to school.

Apparently, roaming the house and napping in the car en route expells enough energy that one - who was well-fed just before leaving the house - might suddenly have a concave belly upon entering the classroom.

Such was the case with The Boy. I packed cheese and crackers to give him for a snack, and he eagerly attacked the cheese with a ferocity I had never before seen. Honestly, you'd never guess he had just eaten breakfast a mere two hours prior.

One of the teachers in a different classroom brought in some miniature muffins, and his primary teacher asked if The Boy could have one. I sampled one, decided they would pose a low risk for allergies, and offered him half of a mini-muffin top. As you can guess, the entire piece went into his mouth (and The Boy begrudgingly washed it down with some formula soon after). I broke apart the rest of the muffin into pieces and set them on the high chair tray.

Another little boy in his class, B, was sitting in the high chair next to him, also enjoying a muffin. His muffin, too, was broken into pieces for him, but B is simply not as neat of an eater. So, while The Boy had finished his muffin and returned to his cheese and crackers (the cheese, of course, being the more desirable of the two), B's muffin was in tiny crumbs strewn all over the tray.

Upon seeing B's tray, the primary teacher exclaimed, "B! What did you do to your muffin?" The Boy craned his neck to look at B, saw B pushing muffin crumbs around the tray, and gave B a look that clearly said, "What's wrong with you? That's a waste of a perfectly good muffin," before shoving a piece of cheese into his mouth.

If it's at all possible, interactions like these make me love The Boy even more!

Baby C had a fire drill at school this morning. I was there to witness it, as I was midway through my morning drop-off routine. It was really neat to watch; his teachers collected all the kids (6 total this morning), put them into 2 rolling cribs, then wheeled them out the fire-escape door. Within 30 seconds of the alarm going off (no kidding - I looked at the clock), all 6 kids were outside and all was well. It was pretty amazing, and I was assured that my baby is in good hands.

And my brave little boy wasn't fazed one bit. He just lay in the crib, taking it all in...

As difficult as it is to leave Baby C at school each morning, I'm very glad that I went back to work as early as I did. I'm also very glad Baby C is already accustomed to having other people watch him during the day.

When I dropped off Baby C at school today, there was a little boy, probably about 10 months old, standing in the crib next to Baby C's crib. He was crying - sobbing, really - and my heart just broke. I said to him, "Hello, there! I don't think I've met you before!" The teachers told me his name was M and that today was his first day. I continued talking to him. "M, you're doing just fine. This," I said, holding up Baby C, "is C. Hopefully you guys will be able to play together."

Baby C was blissfully asleep this whole time. I put him down in his crib, at which point he opened his eyes and began to fuss. When this happens, I turn on the mobile over his crib, then tell him where I'm going and what I am doing, and he settles down. It takes all the willpower I can muster to keep from scooping him up again, but I know it's a necessity. Today, he was staring at the turtle.

Once Baby C quieted down, I took his bottles to the refrigerator and put them away. One of the teachers took M out of his crib, and he walked over to me, still sobbing.

"Oh, M, are you having major separation anxiety?" One of the teachers nodded knowingly, and M - without any prompting - crawled into my lap and put his arms around me.

Now, M looks nothing like me. Baby C only resembles me in passing, and he's even got my dark hair and brown eyes. M is a little blond boy with bright blue eyes and hardly any hair whom I think looks more like our friend Lipman than my husband. But needless to say, M gave me a hug and, when I hugged him in return, stopped crying almost immediately.

"You just want to be held, don't you?" I said, releasing him so I could stand up, and the water works began once more. "Your mommy will be back," I assured him. "It may be a while, but I promise she will be back."

And as I made my way back to say goodbye to Baby C (still studying the turtle on his mobile), it dawned on me once more how sweet my little boy is. He doesn't cry unless he needs something, and even then, I think he knows his needs will be met. At times, I wish he would miss me a little bit more, but when I walk into the room and his whole face lights up when he sees me, I know he's happy to see me. And after seeing poor little M today, I'm suddenly grateful that Baby C is as confident as he is.

Let's just hope this continues on into adolescence.

I'm not a perfect mother. I don't think I even come close. I'm trying so hard to just get by each day, I congratulate myself if Baby C and I make it out of the house in the morning with both of us wearing socks (unless I'm wearing sandals, that is).

One thing I don't like, though, is hearing my baby cry. Now, a little bit of fussing is fine, if it sounds like he's try to reach for something, pull/push himself into position, relieve some gas, or poop. And there are other times when I can tolerate his fussing. But it absolutely breaks my heart to hear him wail, especially when he's crying because he's hungry.

When I drop Baby C off at school each morning, I have a bit of a ritual. I carry him into the room, then put him in a swing or bouncy seat so I can check him in. The teachers are usually trying to calm crying babies who are, by the sound of their cries, starving. (Baby C makes those cries, too, and it's usually followed by such vigorous sucking that you'd think it had been three days since he last ate, not three hours.) Baby C will sit there, sometimes quietly and sometimes talking to himself, observing the other kids. I'll talk him through my routine ("Mommy is signing you in now. You woke up at 6:30, you last ate at 8, and you last had your diaper changed at 7:30 - and what a poopy diaper it was!"), occasionally looking over at him to return his smiles. After I sign him in, I check his supplies ("Oh, we're running low on diapers!"), put away his food for the day, then store the messenger bag we use for his school supplies so that Chris can grab it in the afternoon. And throughout all of this, Baby C is patiently waiting while some of his classmates are wailing.

On occasion, Baby C will start to cry before I leave because he's not quite full, and I'll pick him up, find a chair, and feed him on the spot so that he's got a full belly before I leave. And if he poops before I leave and I can see the teachers have their hands full, I'll change his diaper, too. I figure it's the least I can do.

One of his teachers told me this morning how much she appreciates that I make sure Baby C is fed, dry, and comfortable before I leave. I explained that I like to make sure he's happy before I leave. It's much easier, after all, to leave Baby C when he's quietly sitting in a swing and observing the room than when he's crying frantically and inconsolable.

But I have to confess I go through this ritual each morning in hopes that, in the afternoon, Chris will find him in the same state that I left him: with a full belly, a clean diaper, and a good disposition.

[sigh]

I took Baby C to school this morning, armed with my note from Dr. W. My little baby is congested, anyway (though not running a fever), so I wanted to make sure everyone knew that Baby C was totally healthy.

So, I took him to his classroom, signed him in, put away his food and enough diapers for the day and all of next week, then left Baby C with his teachers. Then I brought his doctor's note up to the front desk and waited to speak with one of the directors.

The policy at school, apparently, is to call when there are three stools, one after another, that are runny. I explained that Baby C is strictly on breastmilk, and she said the teachers know the difference between breastmilk poops and diarrhea. I then said that his doctor checked him out thoroughly - including the congestion - and found nothing wrong with him. Even his stool, I told her, was not out of the ordinary. Then she replied, "It may not have been runny for his doctor, but it was runny for us."

Let's pause for a moment to reflect upon that statement.

If my little 3-month-old son has the ability to choose the consistency of his stools at will, I will offer him up to science. Right now, even. I don't know of a single person able to do that, and I know of several people who would love to have the ability. Think about it. When grown-ups aren't pooping right, it takes a good long while to be regular again.

The other thing that irked me a bit was the second part of the policy: a child who is sent home has to remain home for at least 24 hours symptom-free. And the director explained this to me and was close to telling me that Baby C needed to go back home, until I reminded her Dr. W said the baby was completley healthy. After all, I think a medical professional - especially one who has seen him since he was only a few days old (Dr. W's associate, Dr. S, was the one on call when Baby C was born) - knows a little more about my baby's health than his teachers.

Anyway, the bottom line is that (a) they let him come back to school today, (b) I was warned that his stools would be closely monitored, and (c) if any of his stools are even slightly amiss, Baby C will need to go home.

So, I'll see him later tonight, after Chris picks him up at his normal time.

Yes, it is technically day care, but they call it school. And even funnier was that the staff was saying it was "Mommy's First Day" instead of Baby C's first day. Very cute.

The drop off went well. Daddy gets to pick him up in the afternoons (I get to be the bad parent and leave him each morning) and see that sweet smile of excited recognition every day. It was actually a little strange for me because I knew he dirtied his diaper while in his car seat (he gets this intense look of concentration, pulls his shoulders forward and grunts), and when I offered to change it very quickly, the teacher shooed me off and told me to just go to work. I almost wanted to protest, "But he's got a poopy diaper!" until I realized that we're paying for this service and I really do need to go to work.

Much harder on Mommy than on Baby C.

Anyway, when I left, he was in the teacher's arms, kind of taking in his new surroundings. The worst part? I don't think he even noticed I left the room. [sigh]

According to CNN, a new study has determined that children in childcare have higher disciplinary problems than those who were cared for by Mom. At the same time, they also noted that it's impossible to walk into a classroom and pick out those who were in childcare and those who weren't. Apparently, parenting style still plays a prominent role in a child's development.

These reports make me crazy. You want to do what's best for your child and raise him or her the best possible way. For our household, cutting back to a single income isn't an option. It's not that we live beyond our means or anything, but the cost of daycare is significantly less than I make a year - and I happen to really like my job! Will it mean reprioritizing my life to make sure I spend "enough time" with my son? Absolutely! Is it something I'm willing to do? Of course.

I've resigned myself to the fact that there is no way I will be able to do everything I want to do, so I'm picking those things that are most important to me and absolving myself of the guilt associated with not being able to do everything else. Maybe things will change again once Baby C is here, and if that's the case, then so be it. But I refuse to believe that I will not be a good mother because I've made the decision to return to work.