Why You Shouldn’t Compete With Daycare

It was bound to happen.  I think I’ve seen it coming for a long time. As a parent, you start out hoping that it happens.  Except when it actually does, it has a sting comparable to a belly flop off the high dive.  My children like hanging out at daycare more than they like hanging out with me.

It’s been a slow build.  Several signs leading up to an unmistakable realization.

Drop-Off.  At first I was just relieved that the kids didn’t scream when I dropped them off in the morning.  My youngest is too little to form sentences, but when I lean over for the “hand off”, he holds his arms out, and goes willingly, which is nice.  My daughter is always pleased with herself when she can climb the front porch stairs all by herself.  Now that she’s got that down, I’m trying to encourage her to help mommy carry extra diapers, wipes and changes of clothes up the stairs too, but apparently I’m not making that sound fun enough.

Pick-Up.  Sure, my daughter is shouting “Mommy!” when she sees me, but she always looks like she’s been wearing that smile for longer than I’ve been there.  Like I’ve arrived late to the party and have already missed the making of several inside jokes.  This definitely beats opening the front door and having them make a break for it the first chance they get.

Wake-Up.  After waking up from hopefully a full night’s sleep, and before the first dry diaper is taped up, my daughter is already asking if she gets to go to daycare.  Wow, okay, this is early, but yes, if it motivates you to get movin’ and brush your teeth for mommy, let’s do this!

Homemade Birthday Party Treats.  I think my kids have had more homemade baked goods at daycare than at our house.  Is this because we run a sugar-free household?  Absolutely not.  It’s because mommy knows her limits, planning is not always my strong suit and neither is baking (click here for proof).  I’m so appreciative that daycare makes every child feel special, but if my daughter walked outta there with a store bought cookie, that could also be appreciated.

Homemade Play-Doh.  Yup.  It’s purple, because that’s my daughter’s favorite color.  It’s also all natural, edible and grape scented.  Scented?!  I’ve got stockpiles of the brand stuff at home, but she wants to play with the daycare Play-Doh.  That’s okay pumpkin, I’ll just keep my twenty-five containers as back-up.

My name is Mommy.  It doesn’t happen all the time, but my daughter has called me by our daycare providers’ names.  It’s usually when she’s excited about something and wants to get my attention.  “Brenda, look at me!”.  I actually find it endearing when she corrects herself and follows it up with a “Mommy”.  It’s like she’s throwing me a bone.  Speaking of bone, I believe I’ve called all of my kids “Lucy”, our dog’s name, so why don’t we just call this one even.

Full blown meltdown.  I was tucking my daughter into bed the other night.  I was so excited to explain that it was the weekend and that she’d get to play with mommy all day.  Suddenly the tears started (hers, not mine).  “Brenda’s!”.  I was able to divert her attention with a couple of rounds of Old McDonald, but ouch.  I have a sneaking suspicion that missing her nap that day had something to do with the meltdown, but it still stung…in a good way.

Despite all of the examples of how I can’t compete with daycare, they just reaffirm one very important thing.  That I made the best decision when I picked that place and those people to be with my children while I’m at work.  As parents, we are constantly wondering if we’ve made the right decision.  I know I’m not going to get this fortunate with all of my decisions.  I’m sure I’ll have my kids making a break for it at some point.  It’ll probably even be tomorrow.  In the meantime, I’ll take the time to smell the Play-Doh.