Daycare. I had dreaded that word since we first tried to take Addie to a babysitter when she was 3 months old. She freaked out every time we dropped her off and would go on bottle strike. I couldn't even imagine what daycare would be like! All of the chaos of the other kids, new people, different schedule. She was so used to it just being Greg and I so I had no clue what she would be like in a daycare situation. I. was. terrified. But I knew the day would come where we would have to give it a go, and that day was today.
Root canal, another word I dread, had entered my life and I had 2 subsequent dentist appointments for a cap because of it. My appointment for my temporary cap was this morning, and I'm not sure if it was denial or what, but I had made no arrangements for Addie to be watched during this 1.5 hour appointment, not to mention the 45 min drive there and back. Greg was busy ramping up for planting so him watching her was out of the question. Something had to be done! Then it hit me. Daycare. DUN DUN DUUUUUNNNN.
I gave a call into the daycare, which is literally 2.5 miles from my home and on the same road that I live for goodness sake, to see if they had any openings for her to come in today, and to my surprise they did! Or to my disdain... I wasn't sure how I really felt about it. I just pictured a full day of screaming and her protesting strangers picking her up, bottle strike, the works. I hardly slept last night worrying about it. But, I knew that the day had to come. And being forced into taking her was probably the best way for it to happen, otherwise I would never take her. I made the appointment for the drop at 7:30am, and prayed.
Around 8am (yes, yes, I forgot how long it actually takes to get all of her stuff ready and packed up) I made the drop, and to my surprise, she hardly even knew I left. Heck, she hardly knew I even existed while I was still standing in the entryway going over her typical schedule. Mommy had been reduced to chopped liver. So, I left, without as much as a kiss from my sweet baby girl who was already distracted by the handsome 6 month old she was laying next to on the mat.
I ran a couple errands after my appointment, picked up a pizza, and met Greg at the house for a quick lunch before I went to get Addie. When I called the daycare to see how she was doing, it turned out that she was just going down for a nap so they said they'd give me a call when she woke up. Well, shit. I had just hoovered my pizza in an effort to get to their fast and now I had about 2 hours on my hands. Now what?! There was SO much to get done around the house. Food to be made, floors to be vacuumed, dusting, etc... What should I tackle first?! My answer? Another piece of pizza, enjoyed exxttrreeeeeeemely slowly while watching a half hour episode of bad reality TV, followed by a homemade thin mint blizzard. Yup. You read that right. That's what I did with my little bit of me time. Then my Mommy guilt hit me and I got my booty into gear and started my housework, but damn did that little bit of guilty pleasure feel goooooooood.