First Day of DayCare

So what do I do when I'm traumatized by an event. I write about it.

Today was Ham's first day at daycare.

And it wouldn't have been so bad if I had done more to prepare for it.

I was just coming off of a week full of interviews, a week of realizing I'm going back to work...gasp...and a week where my husband spent his vacation caring for our little one so I could put a big girl suit on and some heels and sell my teaching abilities to 12 different schools.

It was exhausting.

And it was interesting because during that week I got to see a big role reversal. I found myself saying things to my husband like "Did you turn the air conditioner up, sheesh it's hot in here." "What did you cook for dinner?" and "What did you do all day?" and Mr. Yardbird said things like, "Ham had two poo poo diapers today, he ate x y and z for lunch and can you believe it he told me he wanted to wear his hat today!"

What the heck happened here?

Before things could get weirder, we headed off to Mr. Yardbird's hometown where we all relaxed and settled back into our normal selves again.

And then we came home to school and.....daycare.

When I imagined this first morning of day care,  I thought I would grab Ham's packed bag and as we skipped down the steps to the car, I would ask a kind neighbor to snap our picture. It's the first day of daycare after all.

But when I went to grab that packed bag, I realized I didn't pack it.

Then I realized that packed bag involved a lot things we did not have and that this might involve a super last minute trip to Target.

So Ham and I raced around the house.

I grabbed everything I thought we needed - an extra crib blanket, some wipes, a sippy cup and his swim gear. I scribbled some other things on a list for Target.

Ham did everything he could do to help. He pulled out my sewing supplies, tore down the Christmas tree box I had stashed behind a door, swiffered the floors, pulled out the brooms, and two pots with lids. Then he strategically placed all of the above in every walkway for good measure. Which is fine because who doesn't like to hurdle over things with a baby, a purse and a bag in their arms as they walk out the door?

Once we were at Target, I realized I forgot Ham's grocery cart cover and oh yes his sippy cup, which is great because its only 6,000 degrees hot outside and here I am mom of the year with no water for my son. Great.

Oh and that list that I made? Well I'm sure it's right where I left the sippy cup.

I grab the first grocery cart I can get. The first grocery cart I find near the car with dried up vomit on it. I started to lower Ham into it and that's when I realized it. Fantastic. So Ham and I rush into Target wipe down a completely vomit-free cart with 60 wipes and speed through to gather all of our last minute things. We speed past someone who says something about a roller coaster ride and that Ham should have his hands up in the air and that's when I realize I should probably slow it down a little bit.

Once we were at daycare I honestly expected the worse. I thought Ham would burst into tears. Arms stretched up to me begging me to stay. No, that wasn't it at all.

What I got was a few moments of Ham glued to my leg. Pictured here:

Followed by I forgot who you are mom.

He starts playing with other kids. And I stood there talking to his teacher, asking her questions I already knew the answers to. Like would he have lunch today. Seriously? Because I was waiting. Waiting for him to realize, hey she might be leaving me here, I better cry like I mean it.

It never happened.

I looked at the nursery woman, "Well, I'll just SLIP out. Yea, don't want him to see me." She nods.

I look over at Ham. He's turned away from me. Some kid pushes him and he starts to cry.

Oh well, here it is. Reach on over to momma. Nope, he goes right into the arms of daycare woman.

I stood there, Ham and I looked at each other. Sell out.

"Well I guess I should be going," I told her. "I'll just wait till he looks away.""I'll just..." I slowly walked out the door. Ham couldn't have cared less, there were no tears. No screams or kicks, no please don't leave me.

I felt ousted. Maybe he's growing up, he's too big to need his momma.

But, when I picked him up today, he reached up for me and clapped his hands. He tried to tell me about his day in his own mumbo jumbo way. So okay, he needs me after all.