My Job

This morning, while feeding Keyven breakfast, I returned a call from the daycare.  We have been on a waitlist there all summer, in anticipation of my enrollment at PSU.  Since things have changed a bit, I haven’t been pursuing childcare as fervently but I stayed on the waitlist.  It would be useful to have a couple of days to get things done sans the K-meister or without begging for the mercy of my family to help out.  I called her back and said yes to two days a week of daycare even though she said the classroom he’d be in only does one nap a day.  I’m not crazy about that, quite frankly, and I’m not sure how it will work other than wreaking havoc on the great sleep routine we’ve currently got going.  And he would start October 6th, which means I have a week to transition him to this new schedule.

As soon as I got off of the phone and turned back to Keyven and his breakfast, he smiled at me.  Like, big toothy grin smile.  And did this little inhalation where it sounds like he’s going to suck all the air out of the room.  But really he’s just being silly.  I notice how beautiful his big blue eyes are, especially when they’re laughing.  He stretched his hands out to me and signed, “More?” with his signature little squeak that accompanies all requests these days, “Mmm?” Plus that look of total trust and knowing that “mom will take care of me.”

Ugh. How can I turn this little guy over to people who won’t appreciate his little expressions and notice when he develops his next new habit? They don’t know that he started double-signing, “milk” and “all gone” when he’s done nursing. They don’t know that sometimes he squeals “doggy!” for no apparent reason and that the panting noise he makes used to MEAN “doggy” but now it’s also a general term of excitement. They don’t know that the best way to get through diaper changes right now is asking him what sounds animals make, and then making the sounds for him to mimic.  They don’t know that his version of “yes” is not a simple nod of the fist, but an enthusiastic flailing of both arms at once — not to be confused with dancing, which is one of his favorite things to do.

Another, “Mmm?” brought me back to reality.  Finger to his mouth.  “Drink?” I ask.  Arms flailing yes.

It would be so nice to get things done while he’s in daycare.  I’m not opposed to the social experience for him, or trying new things, or even having someone watch him.  It’s just the thought of pushing him to do something he’s not ready to do (mostly the napping thing) for the sake of my convenience.  I am reminded by the Tim-daddy voice in my head (hey, when your conversations are few and far between, you’ve got to replay some of them for moral support now and then) that my only job right now is taking care of Keyven.  Everything else — the house, school, moving, Tyson — are things I have chosen to take on in addition.  I don’t HAVE to put him in daycare.  I realize this is a choice some people don’t get to make.  I realize there are many moms who would give the world to be in my position.  And there will be a time, in the not-so-distant future, when these days of baby signs, breakfast and blue eyes are a cherished memory.

So I do what any mom with the luxury to actually make this decision ought to do.  I call the daycare back.  I thank Jenny for calling me and trying to work something out.  But I don’t think we’ll be able to make this work so soon.  We will figure something else out.  I’m sure she thinks I’m being crazy or overprotective.  I’m sure they see those types all the time.  But I’m pretty sure I’m not.  I’m just doing my job.  And for all the frustration, frequent interruption of sleep, total lack of getting to do what I want, and stress from missing Tim and taking on a bunch of extra stuff, it’s the best job in the world.

Photos (Top to Bottom): Not just pretend — he really IS talking to Tim-daddy; Keyven’s favorite drawer in the house.