Life is a beach

Baby Head started day-care last week. As i suspected he would, the little bastard loved it. Different people and a different environment with different toys and other little kids and Baby Head was in heaven. And his caretakers soon realized what i had been saying--that the boy is crazy and must be engaged in a different activity every 10 minutes or he gets bored and pissed off. Which, as the boy's teacher told me, means he is not likely to EVER be ignored in a daycare situation because he voices his opinions often and loudly. And as long as his needs are met, he's agreeable, giggly, and happy. And lucky for day-care, they have a bigger bag of tricks than i have at home.

Once again, i tried to dig deep into my soul and find that guilt i'm supposed to be carrying for putting my kid in daycare. And its just not there. And i'm sort of starting to feel guilty for NOT feeling guilty about it. After all, the nazi moms say i should feel guilty. And all the parenting websites give advice on how to work through this daycare guilt i'm supposed to have. But i'm just having a hell of a lot of trouble feeling bad about this situation. "Dumping my kid in daycare" didnt seem to affect his relationship with me in any deleterious sense. The first weekend we spent together after starting school, and the boy did not forget his momma. He cuddled and giggled and played and was the sweetest little boy ever. He clearly knew who his momma was, and that he preferred to be with her. He stared into my eyes, and i stared back. He took nice naps, but "requested" that i kiss him to sleep.

One week, and i already feel like i know his daycare teacher quite well. We spend a lot of time talking. She tells me what he does all day. I know what his favorite toys are there, and who he has played with and how many diapers he crapped in and what books he heard at story time. Why? Because i ask. I want to know what the baby dude has done all day. I ask about the other children. I want to know his friends. Other parents blow in and out. I thought i would be the same by the end of the week, but actually, as my routine became more fluid, it allowed me more time to loiter at daycare. I take off my coat and sit on the floor and watch the little dude and his teacher play. And she loves to chat. After all, she spends the whole day taking care of my kid and watching him learn and grow and accomplish things. And she wants to share her hard work with me, and i want to hear about it all. To care lovingly for another person's child, with whom you have no close relation is a heroic act. Whatever she gets paid, its not enough.

I feel like we are all moving forward. Baby Head, big Head and i. We all accomplish so much each day, and start the mornings off and end our days together. And we still accomplish so much during the mornings and evenings as well. Sure, the little dude caught the sniffles from daycare and i had to change my shirt after someone threw up all over it this morning just as we were heading out the door and someone else forgot to take the trash out so the house smells like baby shit and the dog chewed the rug. Its far from utopia, but sometimes it feels like it is as close as we ever would want to get to it. Sometimes it rains when you're at the beach, but it doesn't make you love the beach any less. Because, after all, its still the glorious mutherfuckin' beach and you know you'll feel the warm sun on your shoulders again soon.