Charlie had his first couple of hours at daycare. It is a family daycare. It comes highly recommended. When I walked out the door, he happily said goodbye. I felt calm and happy. My little boy is growing up, wanting to spend time with his peers. Ready to spend time away from mama.
Or so I thought! I got a text from the carer saying that Charlie wasn't really fitting in. He was "angry" and inconsolable. So I picked him up early. By the time I got there he was fine. But my guilt had been firmly planted!
I drove home, wondering why on earth I put him there in the first place. I'm a stay at home mum. I don't really need him to be cared for by someone else. True, but how else can I see my acupuncturist, who is not available after 2 pm, which is when my hubby can care for Charlie. What about the tutoring I've organise to do while he is at daycare? I could juggle that, but it would be difficult.
I know, too, that he has to go somewhere when I return to work in July. I can't not go back, I need to maintain my permenant position in the school, because eventually, I will need to earn a living. So, it's important that he settles into care before then.
So why did I cry into my dinner as I recounted Charlie's time at daycare? Michael felt no sadness. He mentioned something about my "apron strings". So my sadness is for me? I suppose there is an element of that. It doesn't help that I won't be bringing a baby home in July as I'd hoped.
But I must soldier on and it's not all bad. Charlie will go back again next week. Maybe it will be more fun for him then.
I had my haircut yesterday. Reunited with my lovely hairdresser who has been away for a few years. What a pleasure to see her again, and talk, more a friend than "my hairdresser". I left feeling up lifted.
So now it is Thursday. The house is a mess, I've much to catch up on, but instead I'm sat here, with Charlie by my side, drawing(no he didn't write this name on that cardboard - that was his big sister), Crowded House on the stereo.
The sun has come out again.
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