Once More into the Breach, and Not Happy About It

I wanted today to go well. We just had a wonderful weekend that involved a lengthy visit from my sister Jessica, and it seemed like everything was gearing up for a fantastic day: my first day of the fall semester, Molly's first day at her new daycare, and Molly's 8-month birthday. It was going to go well. I was sure of it.

I was wrong.

It began when Molly woke up at five in the morning (she usually wakes up around seven). She was just cooing in her crib (though really it's more of a prattling of random consonants and vowels at this point) and eventually she went back to sleep, though she continued to wake up every 15 minutes or so. I, however, did not go back to sleep. I laid in bed, listening to her (or waiting for her to wake up again) until my alarm went off at six. At that point, she'd been quiet for about 20 minutes, so I had high hopes that she'd sleep until 7 or so, giving me time to get dressed before she got up.

Wrong.

When I got out of the shower at 6:15, Dave was already up with her. And though she was the reason they were up, she was clearly not ready to be awake yet. She was resting on David's chest, too tired to do much of anything but too stubborn to go back to sleep. Determined that the day would go well, I felt confident that she'd cheer up after she nursed (as she often does).

Wrong.

For the rest of the morning, she cried when she wasn't being held (except for a glorious five minutes here or there). Thank God Jessica was still in town; otherwise I'm not sure I would have ever been able to leave the house. But thanks to her willingness to help me out, I was able to get dressed and out the door, albeit 45 minutes later than I had intended. Unfortunately, though, I didn't have any coffee with me since I had forgotten to add the coffee grounds because I was so completely panicked and discombobulated.

Molly was as content as she could be in the car and charmed the workers at the polling place while I voted (yay voting!). We got back in the car and headed to her new daycare. I (foolishly at this point) felt better about my day. Molly wasn't fussing and I felt like we'd turned things around.

Wrong.

I know that I am comparing the new daycare to the old daycare. And I know that after the first time I dropped Molly off at the old daycare, I worried that they hadn't asked me enough questions and wouldn't know how to best care for her. I was wrong then, so I'm hoping I am wrong now. But today didn't leave me feeling confident.

Whereas the old daycare (which I will call OD from now on because I'm sick of typing "old daycare"; for that matter, "new daycare" will be ND) had me fill out an extensive form on Molly's first day that detailed her eating/nursing/napping schedule (among other things), ND had nothing like that. Yes I filled out an initial 50-age application, but that didn't include any information regarding Molly's day-to-day routine. OD also had a small form I filled out every day listing the last time she nursed and what she would be eating that day. ND had nothing like that. In fact, they didn't ask me anything about when she had last eaten, when she should nap, nothing. They asked if she had any bottles and that was it.

In fairness, the teachers were kind and loving and eagerly held Molly and cuddled her sweetly. And that was great. But I had to speak up to let them know when she'd need a bottle (how would they know otherwise?). I was so flustered that I didn't even think to mention anything about her napping schedule (and she will definitely need a good nap (or three) today), and they certainly didn't ask. As I walked out the door, she began  whimpering and squirming to get out of her teacher's arms, something she has never done at daycare before. I forced myself to walk quickly and not look back, because I knew that if she started crying I would simply break down.

On any other day, I like to think that I would give the ND the benefit of the doubt. But after a morning of big, fat FAIL, it just seemed to be the end of the world. I started crying as soon as I got in the car, something I never once did after leaving Molly at the OD. Realizing that my "I Voted" sticker had fallen off somewhere sent me further over the edge. I had to leave my sunglasses on as I drove through Starbucks (at this point I needed coffee STAT) because I was crying so badly. The line was horrible and traffic was even worse. I found myself being short-tempered, yelling at every car that even looked like it might cut me off. And when I saw the students wearing ridiculously large earphones  strutting all over campus, it felt like something in me had died. I had left my sweet girl with a daycare I wasn't 100% sure of to come teach a bunch of entitled punks.

But apparently God knew I needed a break and two good things happened. First, I saw a past student, a student I adored from one of the best classes I've ever taught. He reminded me that there are some really wonderful, non-punk students to be taught, and I have at least one in each class (both of whom I've taught before). Then, shock of all shocks, I immediately found a parking space. I wish I could accurately describe what a miracle this was. But a "secret parking lot" that had been taken over by construction workers for the last year and a half had reopened, and apparently nobody knew about it yet. I pulled right into a spot that was about as close to my building as it could be. Suddenly I had hope.

I'm still in a funk today, and I doubt I'll snap out of it until I see Molly and David tonight, but I feel my abundant pessimism waning slightly. I'm crossing my fingers that we're just getting the crappy day out of the way because, as of today, it is once more into the breach, dear friends, once more (whether I like it or not).