The Descent

So, I entered hell last week when we decided to put my Skinky in daycare.

I have now plummeted to the seventh realm of said hell.

Today was his fifth day.

Day one went off without a hitch. I left him smilin' and playin' and charmin' the pants off everyone there. I got a kiss and went on my way. What the hell have I been so worried about? This is sooo going to be a breeze!

Yeah, notsomuch. By day two he figured out Mommy wasn't staying with him. By day three he had to be peeled off of me. As soon as we walked in his classroom, those chubby lil' arms were tightly wrapped around my neck and his legs had a python-like grip around my waist. I left him screaming. That same day I picked up him and his new-found cold. Ugh.

Well, what else did I expect, right? Yes, I knew my precious would pick up cooties from other kids, I just didn't expect it to be so soon. Yesterday I walk in to his classroom and notice that every kid in there is snotty. Great.

102 fever, a doctor's visit, a contagious skin rash, and a case of diaper rash the likes of which I've never seen. Fungal diaper rash, to be exact. All since Friday.

I cringed as the pediatrician asked "Is this going to be a full-time permanent kind of thing?"

I sheepishly replied, "Yes", like I was admitting to a murder, or child abuse, or sending him to a concentration camp for six hours a day.

"Is this a small or large center?" What difference does that make, I'm still like the WORST MOTHER EVER!, I thought, but I answered her.

"Well, I guess we may as well get used to this, then, huh?", she smugly replied.

No.She.Di'int. I seriously could have slapped her. For realz. Chuck was with me, thank God, so I couldn't really show my ass like I wanted to at that very moment. I don't think me callin' my husband to come bail me out of jail 'cause I attacked the bitch would have helped.

To go through so much transition in such a short period of time, Riley has been such a trooper. I obviously feel extremely guilty.

Mama, Mama. Mama, Mama! I didn't ever think he'd start calling me that. Now it gets repeated over and over and over again. Like he's looking for me or is afraid I am going to leave him. He has to know my whereabouts at all times.

'Cept now he's all snotty and it sounds more like Baba, baba. He relentlessly expresses his misery in being sick. He looks at me with those big, beautiful, feverishly-weak eyes and says "Baba!" every time I walk in a room. It's as if he's saying, "Do you see? Do you see what you're doing to me? This is all your fault!" At least that's what my head tells me anyway. He's always pitiful when he's sick, but I never really blamed myself for it the way I am now.

I realized long ago that I have given my two teenagers excuses to seek therapy as adults. I just really didn't want it to start so soon with Skinky.

At this rate, imma be in therapy behind this whole daycare thing long before he will. I passed overwhelmed about 72 hours ago. I am OVA it. Done.

Bless my heart. And his. We will survive, I guess.