I went to pick NikkiZ up from daycare yesterday and she was on the floor screaming her heart out while the teacher sat next to her, not soothing her, not tending to another baby, not even talking to her…nothing. Just sitting there…almost dazed. There were also 5 babies to that one teacher in that room. Part of the reason we chose this daycare was that they did BETTER than what the state mandated (5 babies/teacher) and set the rule that their facility would only have four babies per teacher.
I was livid. NikkiZ’s hair was stuck to her face with snot and drool. She couldn’t breathe she was crying so hard. And what did this woman, who I didn’t even know, say to me? “She’s been fussy since, like 4pm.”
I stormed out of the room so as to avoid either (a) crying at the sudden stabbing pangs of guilt at seeing my daughter in that condition and (b) punching the woman in the face.
I asked the front desk why they were over ratio to which she said that, “When they are understaffed, that happens but they always fall within the state guidelines.” Well, this daycare is simply another branch of our old one, so I had to ask, “The other place never got that understaffed. If there was an emergency? The director was making up the difference by being in the classroom herself. Why is it different here?” She didn’t know the answer. She isn’t any sort of official person in the facility, so I wasn’t going to lose it on her, even though I wanted to as I pulled hairs off my daughters crusty face as she held me fiercely, terrified I was going to let her go.
Here’s the thing: I loved the other branch of this daycare. LOVED it. We knew everyone on a first-name basis, and we felt like they were our friends - teachers and administration alike. The only downside was that it was out of my way to get to my new job and the drive had NikkiZ in the car 20+ minutes longer per trip. And - if you’ll recall - she HATED the car. So - we felt like it was the best interest to everyone to move her to the branch closer to us.
Since that move - one month ago - I have never felt good about the decision. I go from feeling okay to feeling really horrible. The majority of times I’ve gone to pick her up - she has been screaming on the floor somewhere. I have never seen one teacher singing a song or reading a book to any of the babies. She came home with a bruised and scabby bite mark on her arm one day that no one knew about. Now - I know they can’t watch the kids every second - but none of the teachers even “remembered her crying.” Which - it was bruised and there was broken skin - I’m fairly certain she cried.
And don’t get me started on the different setup they have that puts NikkiZ back with the babies, more or less. Or the times that they’ve opened late this week and no one even apologized. (At the other place we got a note with a hand-written apology when they were late.)
So, I pulled out of the parking lot and called the old place. The old director was not there, which is probably a good thing because I might have started crying over the phone immediately when she answered. The assistant director was, and I very emotionally begged for them to let me bring NikkiZ back as soon as Tuesday. She, of course, was very compensating and tried to be consoling when I tearfully said, “I don’t want to ever find my daughter in the condition I found her in today.”
They’ll get the paperwork done today, and she’ll be good to go next week. Who knows how she’ll handle the long drive again - but hopefully there will be a part of her that will understand.
Now - all of that and I’m sure you’re thinking, “Why did it take you so long?” And it’s because MrZ has not had any of the bad impressions I’ve had of the place. He says that when he’s gone to get her, she’s been fine. Happy, playing, content. He also blames her current level of emotional distress on her molars coming in - not necessarily on being “unhappy” at her daycare. He also points out that two of the four weeks she has been at this place, she’s had a cold and has therefore been miserable as well. I’ve been saying that her bad mood has been because she hates the daycare, he’s not been quite so harsh. So - it’s been hard for me to justify the move.
Even last night, when I really felt like I was doing it for logical reasons, MrZ still had a little bit of hesitation. So, I felt like I had to spend the next 3 hours justifying my decisions. I kept saying things like, “She was crying so hard she couldn’t breathe!” and “What about the time she came home with poop on her butt?” Even though MrZ didn’t say he disagreed, I didn’t feel like he agreed as whole-heartedly as I did, so I took an argumentative stance. I know that I sometimes react with emotions first and logic second, so I followed him around all night trying to give him evidence to the contrary. He’s supportive of the decision, of course, but I think he thinks it’s unnecessary.
Even this morning, I still feel like I need to continue justifying my actions. I guess it’s just that I feel I did the right thing, but I really want him to feel that as strongly. I think it doesn’t help that there is still that voice in the back of my head saying, “If you weren’t a working mom, you wouldn’t have this problem.”
I just don’t know. This makes for a crappy entry - that much I do know. I guess there are some times where you just want to rant for the sake of ranting. I keep seeing her on the floor, alone, crying so hard she couldn’t breathe. Her face red as the sweater she was wearing. Snot and drool crusty on her face, matting her hair to her skin. And I keep feeling that embrace as I picked her up. The one that said, “Thank God you are here, Mom. Please don’t let me go.” And I keep seeing her arch her back and resist being put in her car seat - something she’s never done - because I don’t believe she was ready to leave the comfort of my arms. All of those feelings are still too fresh in my heart - so much so that even taking her back for just one day, for just today, has me feeling more guilt than the first day I dropped her off after maternity leave.
So, yeah. Sometimes blogging is just about putting your thoughts on paper to help yourself feel better about decisions you have to make. And maybe I’m counting on someone to say, “It sounds like you made the right choice.”
