Can you hear the baby squawking from where you’re sitting? I can. And it sure is hard to concentrate. Doesn’t he realize that I’m trying to write a blog post about him? Gah.
Okay, that’s better now. Where was I? Oh yes… Sawyer, my sweet baby love, my third boy, is about to head off to daycare and I am conflicted.
On the one hand, I am so relieved to be able to concentrate on work during working hours and not be shushing and nursing my way through conference calls or in-person meetings as I have been doing for the past five months. I am looking forward to trying to cram my work back into the school day rather than the unpredictable minutes of naptime or after bedtime. I am ready for a little bit of quiet. With my work being done during work hours, I’ll be able to better focus on my children during family time.
But then. There’s the other hand, of course. The hand that has gotten so accustomed to loving, bouncing, and comforting a small person every second of the day will be empty again. My almost-definitely-for-sure last baby is taking his first tiny steps out of my nest. Just writing that makes me stick my lower lip out into a frowny pout.
Taken today. Maybe THEY can get him to nap outside of the swing.
I love the childcare place where Sawyer is going. That’s not the problem. Milo, nearly five now, is in his last year of preschool in the same building and has assured me that he will keep an eye out for his little brother in the infant room. Making it even easier to trust the process, Milo started in the very same room with the same teachers when he was a blobby little baldy.
If I were speaking to a new mom friend worried about the daycare transition, I would gently offer that the first two weeks are especially painful for the mom. No matter how many babies she’s had. The baby will thrive in his new environment. I know this. I’ve seen it over and over. I might tell her about the first-day I left Holden with his nanny (also five months old, the very week I returned to work and started this site), and I had to run to the bedroom and cry when she asked me a few too many questions about his basic care.
But still I sit here with my frown, wishing that bitter pill of transition had already started working.
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