A Case Against Reflection

Anyone who is at all aware of the existence of schools in the world should not be surprised that I have not been on here much lately.

To be fair, I was on vacation the week before this one with U. and ND and although usually I blog about them, I'm going to keep this one kind of a private happy family affair. Pictures available on request.

But this week I've hit the ground running with ND in daycare full time and me at work setting up my classroom.

This is my first time back for a full day since pregnancy. By full day I mean my contract hours are from 8 to 3:30, and I will probably get there earlier and, as I always have, leave closer to 4. Most days U. will take ND to her daycare which gives her almost 1 hour left of daycare than if I did it, but it's still about a 7-hour day for her.

People ask how I'm going to do it... both people who do it themselves and those who don't have to. I just keep saying, "I don't want to talk about it."

This is not my normal way of doing things. But I have also learned that thinking about things often is much worse than simply doing them. I do wonder the effects on ND. I did take her in myself yesterday and she didn't want to let go of me at first when we arrived. She's always happy when I pick her up, but it was hard to see her eyeing the other kids with early morning apprehension.

But there's nothing I can do about it.

Well, nothing about that specifically, I guess. I have been making an effort to be completely present with her when I can be with her. But it's not always going to work. Already once this week I got unreasonably angry with her when she ripped a book while I was trying to get some work done, but I caught myself in the moment and stepped back. (That's a GOOD time to reflect.)

I don't know how this is going to work when the workload gets bigger. I have some ideas, but I don't want to think about it. I'd rather wait until I get there.

ND has taught me a lesson about not thinking about things. Most of the time I will be leaving before she does in the morning. I always want to say goodbye as it seems to me like a betrayal not to. But one day this week when I left early, I just set her up getting her shoes on with her Dad, left the room and then disappeared. U. said she didn't cry about my leaving (although she was grumpy about getting in the car to go to school until she arrived there).

My guess is that it's not necessarily the separation that makes her cry. Her teachers say she clearly misses me during the day, looking for me now and then, but that's not what makes her cry. I think that when I say goodbye, she has to THINK about the separation, and that's too much.

If I have to slip out quietly in order to help her not cry, that's what I'll do. I don't mind so much if it's just me crying a little.