I Care. I Daycare.

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Wanna know the craziest thing in the whole wide world?  Crazier than Britney Spears or seedless watermelons?  (I mean, really.  Where do the seeds go???)

Chris and I are picking a daycare for our child.  Lets pause and take that in for a minute.  Chris and I are picking a childcare provider for our child.  Lets take that sentence apart and laugh at all the craziness found in there.  A deconstruction activity, if you will.

Chris and I” – As in, the guy I used to make out with in the back of movie theaters when we were 16.

“…are picking a childcare provider” – As in, deciding who is the right person to care for a very small human.

“…for our child.” – As in, not just any small human, but the one that WE created.  OUR child.

What’s going on?  What’s happening here?  How’d this happen?  Where am I?

You may recall that we had a home daycare lined up for the little Beanie Weenie several months ago.  Sadly, that has fallen through and we are now left trying to find an alternative.  More specifically, we are left trying to find an alternative that does not require us to take out a second mortgage on our home.

This past week we have been visiting daycare centers in the evenings after work, and I have to tell you its kind of the scariest thing I’ve ever done.  I have always thought of myself as being fairly laid back.  I like a good routine as much as the next person, but I tend to go with the flow pretty well and generally speaking I’m fairly content as long as I know where my next meal is coming from.  But picking a daycare is bringing out this whole new side of me.  This new uptight side of me.  This new where-is-the-hand-sanitizer side of me.

I think I’m Momifying.  I think I’m morphing into a Mom.  Suddenly, I notice things like how clean the sheets on the crib in the nurseries are and where the nearest fire exits are located.  I’m asking questions about CPR training for the staff and sleep schedules for the babies.  I didn’t even know I knew enough to ASK these questions.  Sometimes I’ll say something and immediately I’ll think in my head, “Oh!  That was a good one!  Who told you to ask that?” and then I’ll realize that no one had to tell me.  I just KNEW to ask that question.

Its just crazy, I tell you.

And Chris is doing the same things.  I always pictured him as really uncomfortable around babies and baby things.  But this week, he’s looked so natural in a daycare setting.  Like, if I worked at the daycare, I would totally think he was a Dad.  In fact, the daycare owners are talking to both of us like we’re parents.

WHICH IS JUST CRAZY!!

Don’t they know that I still chew Bubblicious bubble gum and Chris still watches Saturday morning cartoons?  Don’t they know that I’m still scared to answer the door when I’m home alone and that Chris’ favorite movie is still The Goonies?  Don’t they know these things?  Cause I’m sure if they did know them, they would instead be saying things to us like, “Could you get your mother on the phone, Little Girl, and I’ll go over our holiday and vacation policy with her instead…”

But no.  They think that we are responsible enough to be parents and so we will continue to ask all the right questions and I’ll continue to test the baby locks on the safety gates.  Because if we don’t do it, who will?

Its very nervewracking.  I try to picture dropping the Bean off with these strangers, in these strange places and then getting in my car and just driving away.  I mean, I’ll come back at the end of the day, but still.  I can barely leave my dogs at the groomers for a few hours.  How am I supposed to leave my offspring all day, every day?  I’ve kind of gotten used to having him around.  He’s been my little roommate for the past 7 months.  I think I might miss him.

Oh, man.  This Momification thing is tough.  I’m getting all concerned and emotional and feely.

I’m one daycare visit away from a frilly apron and gingham sundresses.

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6 Comments

Filed under Changes, Husbands, Marriage, pregnancy, Suburbia

6 responses to “I Care. I Daycare.

  1. Linda

    Ah, but the modern mom is not a June Cleaver type. Frilly aprons? That sort of mom wouldn’t put her kids in daycare anyway. You’re also not the harried soccer mom type. You’re the cool urban mom who’ll have a jogging stroller for about town, read up on the internet about the latest discoveries about baby stuff, and make your own baby food ’cause you control what goes in it. June Cleaver doesn’t do those things, ergo you are not her. Welcome to modern Mommyhood!

  2. Kelly

    I have to be honest, I’m not pregnant and it even sounds terrifying to me. I am a teacher and worked in daycare all through college. I AM going to be that crazy mother with about 1000 questions and who wants to see everyone’s liscence and credentials. I will also be the mother who is breathing down the teacher’s neck. They will be wishing it was husband who came to the conferences/field trips instead of me.
    Good luck with finding the right daycare!

  3. Oh how I loved this post. Mostly b/c if Matt and I ever become parents… we’ll probably feel the same way. And yeah, The Goonies is a Friday night EVENT in our house. 🙂

    Good luck to you. I’ve looked briefly into childcare just out of curiosity, and sadly, it looks like we’d have to sell our house to afford it. So no baby. Just Mabel.

  4. emilyroseposts

    I’d like to take this opportunity to share a public service announcement, if you will. A plea of sorts. A “Katie, don’t let me dare find you like this” type of reality check:

  5. Lori

    I love The Goonies and my husband, now a graduate school professor, still would rather watch Cartoon Network more than anything else.

    We still have yet to even start searching for daycare mostly because it launches me into panic attacks.

  6. Good luck in your quest. Hope you find a June Cleaver type (or was that supposed to be you?)

    I’m trying to channel June Cleaver so, yes, that was supposed to be me. But given my penchant for curse words and spending days on my couch, I can see the confusion. – Katie