Enrolling Julia into daycare for a few days was my idea. My parents and mother-in-law have been watching her ever since I returned to work and they happily do so without a problem. But it's hard not to be worried about her during the day especially since my parents live in Long Island and I work in Queens. The daycare that I enrolled her at is literally across the street from my job. What could be a better situation than that?
So I talked and talked with Carl about enrolling her there and finally convinced him it was a good idea when Julia started craving interaction with other children. We planned when and how we would afford it financially - something Mariann-type people just don't do very often.
When we registered her, she walked right into the classroom without a problem and played with all the kids while we filled out paperwork. Panic started to set in as I realized that we were actually doing this and I wondered to myself over and over, "what's wrong with having her stay with my parents all day five days a week?' My mom didn't help matters when she hugged her tighter than usually and whispered to her to be a good girl and don't forget to ask for the potty -as if she was sending her away forever.
I knew socialization was the biggest reason why I was enrolling her, but also giving my parents a break during the week and really giving me a break from traveling from Queens to Long Island at an ungodly hour then to Queens again and back to Long Island to pick her up and back home to Queens again. This would also allow me to spend a little extra time with her and check in on her on some days. I knew all this while I was filling out the paperwork and I knew all of this this morning when I was dropping her off, yet I still continued to question "Why am I doing this again?".
So I dropped her off not expecting a problem other than problems with myself and coping. I said goodbye to her and the teacher took her, picked out a toy with her and ushered her into the classroom. As she was tentatively heading towards the table to sit with her toy, a little boy went up to her, grabbed the toy out of her hands and said "Hey, that's mine", in which she proceeded to have a complete melt down for AT LEAST 45 MINUTES (that was about as long as I could stay and witness)!!!
I hid for the first 20 minutes hoping she would calm down and get distracted. I opened the door for incoming parents and their little babies whom were not melting down by the way and got the expected winks and nods from experienced parents who knew what this moment was like for me. Some even offered some sympathetic remarks as they noticed my eyes welling up with tears as I played doorman. "Awww don't worry, it'll get easier".
It was difficult for me to decide whether or not I should rush in there and reinforce this behavior or continue to stand outside until she or I felt better, whichever came first. As a teacher whose been in this exact situation a million times before, I know I would prefer the parent just stay out of my way. So I reluctantly stayed out of the way until the teacher made the decision to bring her to me. I was relieved but my behavior analyst side of me was like "Come on, now you just made things hardier on yourself lady! You just totally reinforced her meltdown" but what can I say? I'm a mommy first....
I brought her back in the classroom and tried to distract her with toys. When she seemed calm, I started with the goodbyes and she began crying again. I calmed her down with strawberries (I'M A MOMMY FIRST!!) and then began my goodbyes again. (I am a firm believer in not racing out the door while they're not looking, I really think that's a terrible thing to do.) She seemed a bit calmer but the moment she saw I was outside of the classroom, she began crying pitifully again. This time I couldn't take it and I left. Just like that. I think somewhere in the midst of that, I even had promised ice cream if she was good. Sigh.
I went to work, cried in the bathroom and then allowed myself to be distracted with the day. I called twice and found out she pooped in her pants, they put her in a pull up (sigh) and she was playing with toys. When I went to pick her up she was not crying and standing in the middle of the room staring at a boy (uh oh! My genes are kicking in!). The moment she saw me she began whimpering as if we were still going on from this morning and I quickly picked her up and said "Oh you're ok", knowing I was really talking to myself.
I drove her home, thinking I surely brought home an emotionally traumatized child and when she said "Call Daddy?", I was convinced I was right - I mean, when does she EVER want to call Daddy when she's in distressed? She must be REALLY upset! But the moment we walked in the house, she spotted her Wonder Pets bookbag, threw it on her head and said "Come on, Zoe!" and started singing and giggling maniacally. Zoe happens to be a little girl that was in her classroom watching in awe as Julia had her meltdown. I don't know how the bag on her head and Zoe connect, but I guess Julia might've had a good time after all....
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