Traumatic Experience

My baby needs friends.

Just putting it out there.

He needs little people to play with. I can’t deny that he is getting bored playing at home with his grandmas and me. I have to think of lots of things to keep him entertained during the day and it’s getting harder. I think he needs a playmate or 3 or 4. I’m very willing to have a play date with anyone who has a baby even remotely close to Wyatt’s age. He needs it.

Thus, the horror that occurred yesterday.

I knew once Wyatt turned one I would enroll him in a Mother’s Day Out program or daycare 2 days a week simply to have other stimulation and of course begin working on his social skillz. (Skillz with a z because he’s hip like that.)  I had two places in mind (won’t be naming any names…I don’t think…) that I wanted to check out.

Now, I have heard lots of good things about both places, don’t get me wrong. If I had heard one bad thing I most certainly wouldn’t have even entertained the thought of taking my kid there.

I arrived at the first place at the most horrible time of day. No joke. It was lunch time for the kiddos, which to all you non-parents, it means the time of day when people are probably questioning why they even had kids. You think adults are impatient? Get a hungry kid and see how well he takes it. The cries are blood curdling. Seriously. Not to mention Wyatt hasn’t cried for more than 10 minutes in his life, you can only imagine the pain I was experiencing as I was sitting in the director’s office that shares a wall with the “baby” room. We were in there for a little more than 10 minutes going over things and the only thing I could really focus on was the crying baby. I just honestly remember shaking my head up and down saying yes, okay, and uh-huh. She could have been asking me to be an accomplice to murder for all I know. I just wanted to say eh, I gotta go and high tail it out of there to swoop up the crying baby. Instead, we just went to “visit” the rooms. The first room (the room where I later found out my precious baby would be in) was the “baby” room. Like, baby-baby. 3 months+. All I saw were cribs, bouncies, jumperoos, swings, and babies lying on the floor. My heart seriously broke into 1 million pieces and just as I begin to start picking the shards of brokenness off the floor she moved me on to the next room. The room I thought he would be in. The one I even assumed and asked, so this is the room he’ll be in? Shot down…No, actually he will be in the baby room. WHAT? The baby room where my child is 7 times the size of those babies? In the room where there is a shopping cart like his that he slings all over the place? The room where my baby would pulverize the children in there? Wait a second…shouldn’t he be in here with the kids that are his size…eat like he does…sit like he does…seem to have more in “common” with him. From that moment on I was holding back the tears. I was pretty much done with the experience. I wanted nothing more than to be home with my baby promising him I wouldn’t take him there. I’m telling you my heart was very, very heavy and lots of tears were shed on the way home.

After I got home, held, and loved on my baby I went to visit place #2. The place that he will most likely be put on a waiting list and may not even get to go to. The place that I absolutely fell in love with. (Yes, I instantly had pictures of me with my college-aged son, visiting a campus thinking how wonderful, perfect, and fitting they all where. The college where Wyatt would meet my future daughter in law, the place that I loved. The place that ultimately Wyatt would hate and want to go somewhere else. This is what happens as parents, I think. You get glimpses of the future all.the.time. I digress.) The place that I would have ran home right then, just to bring Wyatt back, and kiss him goodbye and never look back. The place that I felt was baby daycare heaven.  I guess the thing that I loved was that 6 months+ is as young as they get. Wyatt could actually hang with these babies without completely abusing them. Don’t get me wrong, my baby isn’t abusive he is just that kid. The big, kid. The one who is probably about 26 pounds and eats like a 5 year old. I got to visit the two rooms that he could potentially be in. People, it was nap time at this place. There was nothing but silence in the two rooms. Is that what won me over? Probably so. Or, in the first room I instantly fell in love with it because right next to the door was a little crib with a little boy that reminded me so much of Wyatt just curled up with his knees tucked under him looking so scrumptious that my heart instantly felt at peace. This is what I want for my baby. This is where he needs to be napping alongside his little friends. The next room was just that too. Peaceful sleeping little babies. Everything felt so right. I hope and pray that he gets to attend this daycare, even if he gets put on a waiting list, I can handle that because it’s worth it. And, like my MIL said, it’s not like I am having to “fire” my sitters or that they are “quitting.” In fact, when the time comes for him to be going to “school” they will probably have just as hard as a time as I will…

So there it is…the horror that is having to have put your child in the care of some “facility.” It’s a big scary deal and I am definitely not a fan of it. I know it will get easier and the perfect place for Wyatt will rear its head soon I am sure. Until then, we wait…keep researching, keep enjoying the baby who has never been sick.

But still, any playmates for my kiddo, I am always accepting…

That, and I am drawing up my business plan TONIGHT to open my own daycare. Maybe my Econ/Finance degree will come in handy finally.