~Working Mom Meltdown~

Yesterday just happened to be one of those days where I let my insecurities about being a working mom get the best of me. 

A few weeks ago Rowen transitioned into the one year old class, meaning all of the kids are between 12 and 24 months.  Thus far we think this has been a great change for him.  He LOVES his new teachers, his new freedoms, and doing things that the 'big kids' get to do.  But it also means that right now he is the baby of the class, and its going to take some adjustments on both his and our part in order for him to fit in with the flow of the class. 

Yesterday when I went to pick him up it was snack time, which immediately follows nap time.  Nap time in this age group is both a blessing and a curse.  In the baby room Rowen all but refused to take a nap, so when he got home he usually took a three hour plus nap to make up the sleep.  In this room, nap time is a mandatory noon to 2pm.  I still have yet to figure out how they magically get him to lay down and sleep on a cot.  His teachers have told me that they usually have to wake him up. But a nap is better than no nap.  

When I got to his class they had just settled down to snack, and one of the misses was sitting with Rowen trying to teach him to use a spoon.  We haven't started using utensils with him, and while Rowen wasn't bothered by her tone she was teaching him in, I was.  I'm sure part of me is overreacting, and maybe she is a no nonesense kind of teacher.  One of the other misses commented that we needed to work on this as well with Rowen, and I took note of how the teacher was teaching Rowen so we could practice at home and get him on board.

Now this is where the structured nap time can slap me in the face.  While he isn't as tired as he was when he was in the baby room, Rowen still is a little tired when he gets home, so we try to let him spend some time winding down from the day.  If its a good day, by the time we get home I get a solid four, maybe five hours with my baby.  And in those four or five hours I would like to see my happy sweet little boy and not a tired cranky toddler that is frustrated because I am trying to make him learn.  Yesterday Rowen was showing the tired/hungry signs, but with his teachers in the back of my mind, I sat down to attempt to teach him to use the spoon.  Frustration got the best of both of us, and his hysterical crying because all he wanted was for me to feed him his beloved strawberry banana yogurt turned into my hysterical crying.  And I can't blame it all on the preggo hormones.

This is where my insecurities about the decision to work take over.  They make me feel like daycare teaches Rowen more than I do.  Aside from weekends, we get such a small window of time with him everyday.  They are making the major decisions of when he is getting table food, using utensils, etc. and will probably be the ones to potty train him, all while I feel like it should be me that is making these decisions, and if I were home with him I would be doing just that.  Compounding these insecurities is the fact that in the past two pick ups Rowen has not wanted to leave daycare with me, and I have had to carry him out flalying and screaming all  the way to the car.  Not my most glamorous motherhood moment.

I know there are great things about our daycare.  They are part of our village that is helping us raise him, and while we do pay them, I know his teachers genuinely care about him.  I see the love in their eyes every time I see one of his old teachers pick him up and rock him just because they miss having him around everyday. And I know Rowen loves it.  

But when I get down and out about the constant daycare balance, I have to fight to not let it get the best of me. Because if I don't, then I start to believe  daycare is more of a mother to Rowen than I am.  Which  is not the case.  I know they don't teach him the sign language that I see him use all the time.  I know that it was his dad who taught him the big belly laugh he so handily uses now.  And I know that his first full word will probably be our dog Jack's name and not one of his teacher's names. 

While the day brought about a lot of questions for me, I also managed to successfully set baby number two up on the waiting list for daycare....sans tears.  Maybe by the time he comes along and we start this merry dance again, which I keep telling myself isn't until 2013 to make it seem really far away, I will have conquered these fears and become comfortable in my path.  This mom stuff sure can be tough.