17 February 2010
The night before day 1, no one slept. Why? Because Miss A kept crying. And crying. And crying. And when I finally got her to tell me why, she looked at me pitifully and said, "Pay skool, Mommy?" Aha! Anxiety. Of course. I reassured her that there would be fish. And slides. It worked.
Day 1 drop off went far more smoothly than expected. I got a hug. I got a kiss. I got a look that said, "When we get home, I'm peeing in your shoes," as I walked out the door.
At pick-up, I was rewarded with a loud and excited, "MOMMY!!!!" before I even opened the classroom door. I was tackled and then given a tour of every toy in the room. Twice.
Day 2? Ah. Here's where the lead in will make sense to some...
15 February 2010
It's one of those "holidays" that I have never cared for or gotten excited over and would probably forget altogether if it weren't for the relentless and endless hearts fluffies displays that are vomited up all over stores just after the New Year. Even A got into the magic this year, pointing out every single heart in every single storefront window as we walked the neighborhood.
09 February 2010
For the record, yes, my mother worked and works still and no, it didn’t inspire me. It was simply what parents did and still do. They work. I was raised to know that I would work too because, well, bills need paying, necessities (and niceties) need buying. In short, I do not come from an area or time when mothers stayed home. In fact, there was only one stay-at-home mother that I can remember in my group of schoolmates and friends. It was an anomaly.
Of course, in the macrocosm, it isn’t an anomaly, it's a norm. Then again, no child thinks macrocosmically and frankly, if you grow up and remain in a larger version of your childhood microcosm, it’s tough even for adults to think that way (or acknowledge that a vast majority of others might).
So it was with this sort of thought in mind that I realized this weekend that the decision I make now will unwittingly and unknowingly impact my own daughter later and I wonder how she’ll reflect or even if she will, on the choices she’ll know that I had to make for the sake of my family.