As if sending my kid to daycare didn’t already include a cornucopia of emotions that often leaves me feeling bereft of sanity, my son’s lead teacher moved away. Prior to motherhood, if someone had explained this scenario to me, I’d have been like, “…yeah? And? So?” But now?!?! It was a gut punch!! I did not see this coming! DO NOT LEAVE ME!! I mean, uh, my child.
She was there on the first day when all of my neuroses could barely fit through the classroom door. She was young and fun and really liked my kid. And, most importantly, he seemed to really like her! Does he care that she’s gone? Hasn’t seemed to notice. But what if, deep down, he does, and this manifests as some sort of subconscious issue with abandonment the rest of his life?!?!
All I’m saying is, no one warned me about this. She was a person I trusted with my kid, and now she’s gone. There aren’t too many adults who know the ins and outs of his likes and quirks, and now there’s one less of them in his orbit. So, Natalies, gird your loins for this one of- I’m sure- a billion seemingly innocuous things that will absolutely level you emotionally.
Though it’s nice to have the heads up that I’ll apparently require hospital-level sedation when he switches classrooms later this year.
I feel like one of those Instagram cartoons showing a crying mom that has the caption, “You got this, Mama!” (Side note: please never call me Mama unless you are my actual child.) This age has been… not my favorite. Yet it is because he’s so smiley and interactive and CUTE! Just another contradiction to add to the growing list of conflicting feelings that comes with having a child. It would seem that becoming a parent is mostly learning your ability to hold two opposing feelings at the same time.
Tired but alert.
Grateful but annoyed.
Feeling sick over sending him to daycare, yet feeling like you’re going to absolutely go insane if you spend another hour together with a whiny baby at home.
My son is 9.5 months old, a time when separation anxiety sets in (God forbid he be fine playing alone in his playroom that’s becoming dangerously close to our own personal Chuck-E Cheese) and he has a bunch of teeth painfully coming in at once. Add on top of that his new walking skills which are a borderline suicide mission every day (why are their heads the exact height of all furniture corners?!) and it’s a lot of whining and fussing and clinging. Jim Carrey in Dumb & Dumber was wrong– this isn’t the most annoying sound in the world, the whining of a child who has opinions but can’t yet articulate them is.
I feel like a terrible mom, even though I know I’m not. I don’t need Mommy Wine Time, and I don’t need any well-meaning friends reminding me I’m doing a great job. It just… is. I’ve gotta feel the feelings, take breaks when needed, and remind myself that this adorable, precious ball of annoyance isn’t doing this to me on purpose. He’s being a baby. I wanted a baby, and it’s ok to want to be a parent and love the role while also saying, “Holy cats, this blows right now.”
A wise friend told me that she doesn’t believe in Mom Guilt. The definition of guilt is that you’ve done something wrong, yet all of the things we parents feel guilty for usually aren’t actual crimes we’ve committed. She’s reframed it to calling it Mom Love. Feeling “guilty” because you went back to work and baby is at daycare? It’s actually because you love them so much and are sad you don’t get to see them; you also might be worried about someone else taking care of them. Feeling “guilty” because baby was walking towards you and took a hard smack into the coffee table? You didn’t push him– you love him and want him to be safe, so your “guilt” is love because you don’t want him to feel pain.
So I’m trying really, really hard not to feeling guilty about any of my feelings during this stage of my son’s life. I know it’s cliche but true that one day he won’t be constantly tugging at my leg and wanting my attention, and I’ll be wishing so hard for the days when he was this small and needy again. There is no great answer to any of this, other than to continue to love your kid(s), which I know you and I both will, and to continue to love yourself enough to not self-flagellate over the myriad contradictory feelings parenthood brings about.