My almost 2 year old is a tornado. She wakes up in a tie-dye t-shirt with wild hair sticking straight out in all directions, a thin layer of dried snot crusted across both cheeks. She nurses greedily on one boob while her too-long nails pinch and twist the opposite nipple. Hop? hop? HOP?!! and Doom bop bop?? she shouts, demanding her favorite songs be played over and over, while crushing blackberries in her palm to see how they break. I get rid of all the toys, but her destruction persists. We go outside to water the plants and she tries to rip up the seedlings, scooping handfuls of dirt out of the garden bed. The baby plants are trying to grow, just like you are growing, I explain.
I love my tiny tornado.
Remember when I wrote this? I said, “There is not time to not do the things I love.”
I stand by the sentiment of that post, which is this: new motherhood has absolutely required an alignment and refinement of my priorities. It continues to light up my creativity in strange and wonderful ways, in ways that I cannot ignore. I am hungry to create. It has reminded me of all the things I love, and insists that I absolutely must stay in close contact with them. I have found motherhood to be, despite the mainstream narrative, downright inspiring.
But I really have no time. My husband has a blessedly flexible work schedule, so I’m able to snag some spontaneous hours here and there. Beyond that, I have 2ish hours of childcare a week, and then none in the winter, when Grandmom is in Florida.
We live down the road from a community daycare center. The center has a public playground, so we’re up there quite a lot, watching the daycare kids play and chitchatting with other parents while we kick around in the sandbox. I hadn't considered daycare, partly because I assumed it was an all-or-nothing situation, and I do not need/want to send her to all-day daycare— and partly because daycare always sounded terrible. The kids are constantly sick, you’re constantly sick, the moms are crying in the parking lot because they don’t want to leave their babies, etc. So I was always so surprised hearing the local moms talk about this place. I’ve heard them raving about it since my daughter was a newborn. It's so affordable! My kids love it! They’re outside a bunch! It’s so flexible, you can send them for just a couple mornings a week!
My ears perked up at that last one. That was exactly what I needed: just a few free mornings a week.
We went to the open house, and I signed her up for the summer. I was pumped.
Daycare (3 hours, 3x per week) dangles the delicious prospect of unstructured time in front of me: time to teach, to write, to go on runs, to plan classes, to finally finish my coursework, to deep clean.
The trade-off, of course, is that someone else will be guiding my daughter, keeping her safe, comforting her, changing her diapers. Someone else will reprimand her when she snatches a toy out of the hands of another kid, and since that someone will also have to keep eleven other 2-year-olds “in line,” I suspect they will not be speaking to her with any sort of Montessori-level mindfulness. They don’t care whether she is intrinsically motivated, or if she learns to assert herself. They just need to keep everyone unscathed and organized until pickup time.
Because of the aforementioned on-site community playground, I have gotten to be a fly on the wall. I see the language and experiences she’ll be exposed to, I have a sense of the overall vibe. It seems fine. Sometimes they’re super patient and sweet, sometimes they yell. Kind of like me, I guess. The teachers already know my daughter because we’re up there a lot. Is Addie coming here this year? one of the them asked me the other day. This teacher has an interesting disposition— she’s kind of sunny-yet-militant, think Miss Honey meets Miss Trunchbull. Maybe that’s a little extreme, but you get it. You can tell she works with kids all day because she’s friendly but she doesn’t take any shit.
Yeah, this summer. Just a couple of mornings. I always have to add on the “just a couple of mornings,” no matter who I am talking to.
I went on to share that, like most parents, I was nervous about it, worried that she'd be afraid and cry and feel abandoned.
Miss Honey-Trunchbull said to me: You know, every parent feels that way, and I have to say, she will definitely cry, but that’s just a natural part of her development. It will be harder on you than it is on her.
“…natural part of her development?”
I’m fortunate enough that I am in a situation where I don’t need to send her. I could always just pull her out.
Honestly though, it’s not really the separation anxiety that I’m worried about. She goes to the stay-n-play at the gym, I’ve spent long swaths of time away from her here and there… it’s been fine. I’m more concerned about that fact that she will be influenced by other caregiver figures who will undoubtedly be less tender and slow with her. I’m more concerned about the (understandable) need of the teachers to maintain some sense of order. She’ll be exposed to things that are outside of my control. The daycare kids we play with always seem scrappier, like they’ve had to learn to defend their toys and their turf. I worry she’ll come back changed.
It’s only three mornings a week.
Nine glorious hours. How enticing.
I could drop it down to two mornings, or even just one morning. It would still be helpful.
My neighbor, whose son will go to the daycare too, rolls her eyes at me. She laughs: We have to let go of them at some point!
Yeah, I argue back, At some point. But they’re hardly two! They’re babies!
Another friend texts me, on an at-the-end-of-my-rope kind of day: Daycare will help, it’ll give you time to miss her.
The moms on the internet tell me daycare sucks.
The older, more seasoned mothers in my life remind me that she will not be this little forever, that I will miss this time so much.
I already miss this time so much.
When I signed her up, I was so excited by the idea of time that belongs only to me, time that I could count on each week, time that I do not need to ask anyone’s permission to take. Yet as the start date inches closer, I find myself pulling back. I can feel that the Tiny Tornado needs me so much right now — my role is not simply to love her and keep her alive anymore— it is that, plus teaching her how to be in the world. Selfishly, I don’t want anyone else teaching her how to be in the world. I want to be the one to show her how to be compassionate, how to handle her frustration, how to interact with others, how to stick up for herself. I don’t want a burnt-out stranger putting her in time-out, or scolding her. I don’t want her wild tornado spirit to be stifled, or her light snuffed out for the sake of orderliness.
You’re being overdramatic, I tell myself, she’ll be fine.
It’s fine, she’ll be fine, you’ll be fine. Fine fine fine.
I know it’ll be fine, I just don’t know if fine is worth the trade-off. It might be.
On the one hand, she needs me— on the other, she needs me calm, regulated, and undistracted.
So, I’m not sure what I’ll do.
It’s only three mornings a week.
It’s three whole mornings a week.
Recently:
Sweetest kids album ever, not annoying in the slightest:
Also love this cute song:
Cooking lots of Mollie Katzen recipes, doing nettle/tulsi infusions + CCF tea for springtime.
Things you learn from children’s books, what a wild world this is:
Memorize this phrase and never forget it: Hospital policy does not override your patient rights.
I felt every bit of this. This fall, my oldest son qualifies for a (free!) integrated preschool for children with special needs. We don't have family around and he's rarely around other kids, so I know the interaction will be good for him. But as a former public school teacher and daycare worker, it makes me nervous. I know how overwhelmed teachers can get, even in classes where students are eager to work, have few extra needs, and love school. I stay at home, so there's no *need* to send him, but the debate goes on and on in my mind. Worst case, we can always pull him out. Here's to clarity!
As a former daycare kid, I am waiting for my son to talk before putting him childcare so we can process the day together and he can keep me informed on what's going on. But right now his dad has plenty of time to watch him.