Okay, she’s not a baby anymore, and I don’t even think kids use backpacks these days, do they?
In any case, Violet is going to school. Well… daycare. Well… Mother’s Day Out. Basically she’ll be at a church daycare with 7 other kids on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 9-1. This is a big step. And a positive step. And a necessary step.
Anyone who has ever spent any time with Violet can attest to the fact that she never stops. And I mean she NEVER stops. Granted, that’s kind of the definition of a toddler, but Violet takes it to a whole other level. Not only is she on fast forward all the time, she isn’t truly happy unless she is glued to Mommy. Always. Even more trying is that the child cannot entertain herself for more than 30 seconds. She showed this tendency as a wee babe, so I was very careful to give her lots of time to explore and play on her own. And still… no luck. This is a lesson to me on how strong inborn personality traits actually are. Despite my best and constant efforts, Violet needs more. More playing, more swinging, more jumping, more running, more eating chalk, more bath time, more sprinklers, more up, more down, more more more more. And that is more than one mama can take.
Thank god for the health club daycare. I go to the gym to rest, if that says anything. In fact, sometimes I go twice a day. Yes, an aerobics class is more relaxing than Violet. The great thing is that Violet LOVES it. She leaps out of my arms and signs “play! play!”. She adores the older kids, the novel toys, the big room (the delicious playdough), and she learns a lot from these interactions. I know because I spy on her. There’s a little window off to the side where the moms line up to peek in on the kids. I love watching her navigate on her own.
The thing about the Mother’s Day Out program is that I can’t watch her navigate on her own. Not really. I mean, I can’t very well lurk outside the doorway for four hours and peer through the window whenever I feel like it. Of course, there is a part of me that wants to do that. But the other part of me is saying “Yippee! Four hours of freedom!”
Now to go line up a teaching job so I can pay for those four hours of freedom.