Niagra Falls

Oh my goodness. It was way too hard to bring Oliver to daycare on Wednesday. I just about died. I cried before I even signed the little peanut in. I'm glad his daddy came with us because all I could do was point and nod. I could not use my words. I couldn't sign anything b/c I couldn't see anything due to the stream of tears flushing thru my optical system.

Oliver, of course, was as happy as could be. Laughing. Playing. Enjoying life. As he should be. I, on the other hand, was a bumbling mess, a pile of emotions, my head wrapped up in a giant cotton ball. It didn't help that I also have a cold. And I'm hormonal as usual. What's new.

I saw him at lunch so that I could feed him. He was fine. Just laying there on the floor. As I began to nurse, I noticed another little boy with a giant wet spot on his bottom. Um, are those ladies going to change his diaper? Is this how they are going to take care of my little guy too? Let him run around until his diaper over flows, allowing his sweet little butt to rot away? Holy moly! So I mentioned it to one of the caregivers, "I think that little boy wet his diaper."

"Oh that... yeah, he spilled his drink when he was eating lunch." At that moment, the boy turned around and I saw that he had poured his whole drink down the front of his outfit.

Yep, I'm one of those moms. I'm sure the lady at the daycare was all like, "Don't worry lady. We got this emergency handled. We actually know what we're doing. But thanks for your keen observations. We would have missed that one if it wasn't for you."

Oh well. What can I do? I'm neurotically, fearfully human at best.

By the end of the day, I was feeling much better. But I still was not 100% sure I wanted to keep him in day care. But at least I wasn't acting like travel destination anymore.