Margo à la Maude

This morning, Margo began Integration with her childcare provider. At less than 50 weeks old, today, and for the rest of the week, she will be spending increasing amounts of time at the dayhome that we've chosen, and next Monday, a full day.

We were going to nanny-share with our neighbours, who have a son four months older than Margo, but that fell through a few weeks ago. Though we tried to interview another nanny, our neighbours -- amicably, it should be said -- went with a spot in a dayhome. We scrambled for a week and found a few spots, and even proved that sometimes crisis provides opportunity. The day home seems exceptional, with kids staying there until the maximum age and coming back with new skills.

Anyway, today is only a two-and-a-half hour day. Nine o'clock to 11:30. I dropped her off and went over some paperwork with the dayhome provider, and a few requests that we had, all that stuff. And then I looked down at Margo, who was playing with a toy piano, with a boy a few months older quickly approaching, and I realized that this was it. Time to go.

(Margo has had very few babysitters, and for the majority of the instances, we have only left her after she has fallen asleep. Being such a good sleeper, it effectively meant that she didn't know that we were gone and a "stranger" was looking after her.)

With a heavy heart, I bent down, picked her up and gave her a kiss, and left. The provider (how's about I call her Carmen; "provider" sounds like a euphemism for drug dealer. Or pharmacist, depending on your health condition) held her in her arms as I tied my shoes, and talked to her about the day's activities. And when I looked back, Margo was zoning out, a little tired, eyes not quite focusing, and waving good-bye to me.

Here's the thing; with a little effort, you could probably describe most babies with one, maybe two adjectives. Smiley. Shy. Fussy. Cuddly. Whatever I'm feeling, whatever Donna is going through at her desk, whatever best- and worst-case scenarios that we're playing out in our minds, the fact of the matter is that Margo can, with a little effort, be summed up in one word.

Independent.

She's fine. She loves us, but she's cool. And there's a reason that we chose Carmen. She's cheaper than a nanny. She's really good and experienced.



As for me... I'm a little lost. I've only been the stay-at-home parent for four weeks, but I've gotten into a certain rhythm. The silence is deafening. I keep thinking that it's quiet in the house because Margo is napping, and that I have to be vigilant of her waking up.

It's eleven o'clock right now. I actually have to start getting ready to pick Margo up. The one thing with the dayhome is that it's a little further away, a drive away, in fact, but it's a little closer to my work, and with my job moving buildings in the new year, it will be en route.

Takes a little getting used to. Independent... that's my girl. Just don't be so independent that you no longer need us. And, Margo, I really think that your mother will want you to call her daily to chat when you're on your own. That's cool... if I answer, I'll make small talk and say "I'll pass you on to your mother." It's just that I'm not much of a phone guy, but I do love you. For now, just focus on the dayhome.

- Michel

Labels: developments

This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 28, 2007 at 10:28 a.m.. You can skip to the end and leave a response.