Breakthrough: a Situational Irony

Well. I think we've resolved the daycare dilemma, and not a moment too soon: last night, I got Munchkin home at 5:20, and after a series of meltdowns, tears, tantrums, and flailing, she was asleep at 6:25. She cried, I cried, Pynchon worried, it was awful.

I've been worrying and worrying and worrying, and I've been thinking through all that you've shared with me in the comments to my last post--I very much appreciate the support that you've offered, both of my choices and of my mothering.

This morning I went into daycare to chat with Munchkin's team--H, K, and M. H is Munchkin's favorite. She calls her by name and willingly leaps from my arms to hers in the morning, treating H to a snuggle and a pat while vaguely waving bye-bye in my general direction. We all got to talking this morning, about how bad the evening was, about how poorly Munchkin is sleeping at daycare, how pitifully snuggly she is.

And this is where the breakthrough came: the problem, you see, is that they care too much for her. I am calling this a situational irony because so many bloggers and commenters have noted daycare workers for their lackadaisical and callous attitude toward their charges. But the problem with Munchkin's daytime naps is that she was soaking up all the love she could get, and not wanting the snuggles to end. You see, at our daycare, staff sit in the nap room with the babies, next to the crib, and lean in to rub their backs and pat them until they fall asleep. Munchkin has a voracious appetite for pats and hugs, and would seem to fall asleep, only miraculously to awaken as soon as the patter stood up. Sometimes they were patting her for 30 minutes at a go. Similarly, if she woke too soon from a nap, someone would come in and pat her, and never get her back to sleep.

Aha! I said. At home, we walk around the house with her, singing her songs and patting her back, but then we walk into her room, put her in her crib with her doudou and her bear, pull up the blanket, and walk away. And that's the end of it.

So. Today at naptime, H did what we do at home--snuggle, sing, tuck, leave. She stayed to pat another baby, while Munchkin tried valiantly to get her fix, sticking her hands out through the crib bars to pat H on the back as if to remind her. H noted that she had to try really hard not to make eye contact, but she managed. After she walked out?

Munchkin slept. For one hour and forty minutes.

Thank God. She was a changed toddler when I picked her up at 4:30: cheerful and alert and fun. We went for a walk and played in the park until we saw Daddy get off his bus. He played with her while I made supper. She giggled through bathtime and happily went to bed at 7, stretching out in her crib as I covered her up. What a wonderful, wonderful evening.

To summarize, the daycare staff was just snuggling her too much. These are the kinds of problems, really, I'm kinda glad to have.

But now I can go to BlogHer with a happy heart! Woo! Are you going?


Munchkin says: I want you to meet me at BlogHer. Sage is picking me up tomorrow morning at 8 for the great road trip to Chicago--don't tell her, but I made muffins especially for the occasion (well, okay, and to feed Pynchon and Munchkin while I'm gone away).

How much fun are we going to have? I can hardly wait to tell you. I can say, though, that today I bought 100 US dollars and it only cost me 106 CDN. It's like some kind of currency miracle--last time I went to the US, for a conference when I was on the job market, 100 US cost me 148 bucks.

Anyhow, if you're going, I'm the one who looks like me, but carrying a giant mustard yellow purse. Say hi!