Stab Me in the Heart, Why Don't You?

Tuesday was my son’s first full day at daycare.

It was not the ideal situation. He had only been there once before, and I had to leave for Toronto at 5:00am, not to return until 11:00pm. This is the longest I have ever been away from my son since he was born. My husband had to work, so my poor little munchkin was stuck in a place he didn’t really know, with people he had only met once, from 8:30am until 5:30pm.

It did not go well.

Correction: My day went spectacularly well. My son’s day did not.

I went to Toronto for a presentation, which was very successful. It felt great to be using my mind for a change, rather than losing it. I spent many, many hours cooped up on the train, but to have so much uninterrupted time was simply luxurious. I had also left the cell phone with my husband, so I had no way of knowing what was going on back home. It was probably just as well.

As I blissfully sat on the train, daydreaming, writing, and listening to music (a completely foreign experience to me), my son was crying his eyes out at daycare.

Seriously, stab me in the heart.

I got home and found out that he had cried all day. All. Day. Apparently the only time he wasn’t crying was when he was sleeping. He threw all of his lunch onto the floor and refused to drink his milk. He would only eat cheerios and drink water. When my husband picked him up that evening, he said that the poor little guy ate the equivalent of three dinners.

Stab me in the heart. Over and over and over.

Reluctantly, and with extra helpings of guilt for breakfast, I brought him back there today. But it was only for a few hours this time, and I needed to clean my entire house, top to bottom. (Yes, my precious hours of “free time” were used for vacuuming and mopping floors, but such is my life right now.)

When I went to pick him up, he burst into tears, but the care provider assured me that today was much better. He hardly cried, and apparently he went down for his nap without so much as a peep. (I hardly believe it. Whose baby is she talking about? As I write this, he is upstairs loudly lecturing me that he DOES NOT WANT an afternoon nap.)

But no, she assures me that he went to sleep right away, ate all of his lunch, and was generally happy for the entire five hours that he was there. Miraculous. And my house is sparkling clean.

I guess you can take the knife out of my heart now. Until next week.