The Last Daycare Check

With Lorelei graduating from preschool this week and moving on, I wrote my final daycare check today. Oh, it was a long time coming. When bawling my eyes out in the (first) daycare parking lot 8+ years ago, Charlotte 11 weeks old, I could not imagine this day ever arriving, 2 kids and tens of thousands of dollars later. Surprisingly, I was not full of joy as I wrote that final check. I had mixed feelings. I was obviously thrilled to stop writing checks (countless upcoming summer camps notwithstanding). That alone deserves its own paragraph. And I was (and am) so very proud I got my girls to school age with my career intact---in a society that puts new mothers in utterly impossible situations no less. But the (non-financial) cost nagged at me. While stunned that we (ahem, I) made it, my brain was lodged in 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014 . . . having a sick baby and no sick leave left (used it all to actually have said baby), the unbelievable tension between needing to do a good job at work and wanting to do a good job as a mom, all of us having the stomach flu at the same time, flashes of the thousands of decisions and problems that popped up along the way . . . The last daycare check and an impromptu retrospective later, it turned out that I was a lot more resentful than I expected. I was mad I was forced to choose, and that once I did (not that there was much "choice" about it), I had so very little support. Granted, I had my mom, who didn't try to offer advice but was just "I GET IT," followed by the admission that she had no frickin' clue how she made it through but trusted I'd make it too. Eventually, a small circle of moms at the same life stage and in a similar boat likely saved me. When Charlotte was an infant, I literally had no one. No. One. I hated the East Coast, my job, and almost everyone around me. Chris was also adapting to our new life. Certain folks kicked me when I was already down on the ground, dying: I wasn't grateful enough for my nifty life, and I was caring for my family all wrong. So we added to the fun by having a second baby. The only help we had was hired help. I was so grateful to have it, and resentful that I depended on it so heavily. I didn't "lean in;" I merely survived. And I guess that's what's gonna have to pass for success. So much has been rebuilt, most has been forgiven, and I think that is what this final daycare check needs to symbolize. It is finished. I have the example of my girls, who are the most forgiving creatures. Two examples to prove it: For Lorelei, I got the time wrong for her Christmas preschool show and arrived with the grandparents in tow after it was all over. "It's okay, Mommy," she said as I hugged her. Or yesterday, when I accompanied Charlotte's violin song at church and, at the end, my eyes jumped a measure ahead and I lost where she was, botching it. I felt terrible for messing the piece up for her, but she was perfectly unbothered by the glitch, completely forgiving. I think there's a certain amount of grace moms need to give themselves. The world, and certainly social media, isn't going to dish it out, but children just seem to ooze it--and sincerely. "Look, Mommy! We're FINE!" Could we take our cue from them? I am going to celebrate writing the final daycare check. My girls have been well cared for, by me and by not-me. We're at the end of this (first) race and now can see how it ends: one joy-filled daughter thriving in her last week of second grade, curious and bright with oodles of friends and a deep sense of empathy; and another daughter, more than ready for kindergarten, sassy and goofy and full of love and chutzpah. I wish I could go back to that daycare parking lot 8 years ago and tell my younger self the following: 1. The kids will be fine. 2. The books you're stressing over so much will go out of print before you're done paying for daycare. 3. The kids will be fine. 4. Wean NOW. 5. The kids will be fine. 6. It will get better. 7. The. Kids. Will. Be. Fine.