Monday, October 15, 2007

Daycare daze


Our little lad Noah-David has been on the daycare train for the last two months. He pulled into the station just a couple of weeks shy of his second birthday. Up to that point he had been loved, snuggled, bum wiped and tickled mostly by his Mom and Dad in his own home.

The switch to daycare days has been tough for all of us. We didn’t just dive in. We took the time for a gradual introduction and it seemed that all was relatively well. Short little bursts with Mom, or caregiver Tomoyo, in attendance for most of the visit were seemingly happy, at least neutral, ruckus free occasions with no cause for worry.

When visits became longer stays with Mom and Tomoyo removed from the mix, tears began to define the daily drop off. There was a constant refrain in a pleading and wavering voice when getting ready to leave the house, or arriving at the daycare – “no garderie papa, no garderie” – garderie being the French word for this unmentionable place.

Joking aside, as I entered the space it was heartbreaking to hear the anguish in his voice. Wiping away the salty drop tears trickling down his cheeks and seeing the puzzled hurt in his unbelieving eyes as I peeled his arms from around my neck and brought him gently down to the floor was a difficult way for us both to begin our days away from home.

The first week was the toughest particularly when we got the reports from the teachers at pick up time. There was one full day of crying with only a brief break in the morning during story time. As the story ended, the tears began to flow. That same afternoon the children were taken to the gym to listen to music. Our wee boy loves to dance and dance he did through a stream of tears and sobs. This crying and dancing image will be with me forever – a young broken heart trying to dance his troubles away.

One change in routine that seemed to help things was walking to daycare instead of taking the car. Pushing the stroller along for a 30-minute saunter allowed us to discover together, to talk, to laugh, to have fun. It was a less abrupt transition, more about being in the moment and less about the apprehension of getting there. The tears were still there on arrival but now they only lasted for a brief spell.

During all this time, maman had the pleasure of pick up duty. Every day when she arrived it was to an armful of ecstatic baby boy thrilled to be going home. This was the part of the day that Noah got to say, “bye-bye les amis”, undoubtedly his preferred daycare expression.

Well maman continues to pick him up in the afternoons and is now dropping him off in the mornings too. She’s one month away from baby number two and on leave from work because of some challenges with the pregnancy. She is gathering her energies and strength for the big push. For maman’s first drop off there were no tears. That was an exception as they came back the following day and are with us still though less intense, less pronounced.

Daycare for Noah-David will come to halt within the next couple of months and he’ll be home full time with his new little sister and maman. It’s likely that he will never go back. This experience has made us reassess our priorities as parents, as breadwinners, as partners. Our new goal is to have a parent at home until the babies are in school. We haven’t worked out all the details yet but we’re confident that we can and we’re sure that we’ll all be dancing minus the tears.

A quick postscript, personal experience has taught me that daycare professionals are warm, caring and loving with their charges. This is what I’ve seen with Noah and with my two daughters. The caregivers do everything within their means to console, cajole, to bring about a smile, to make the daycare space safe and playful.

That’s certainly how it was when I worked in Toronto’s Snowflake Parent-Child Centre Co-operative in the early 1980s. I was only there briefly and I cherished the time. Each of those children needed to be loved – Tosha, Tu, Spencer, David, Michael, Spring Dawn, Nadhezda – some were more loveable than others.

It was a rainbow of a place with all colours of children from points across the globe, some of whom were just learning English. The staff were diverse too - three women and three men caregivers, a rare ratio even by today's standards. It was a place that advocated for childcare and I remember us protesting outside Queen's Park to improve access and funding.

I still have vibrant memories of those small, wee souls who trusted us with their days. I hear their soft voices at play. I still see the bursting excitement at a parent’s arrival. I see their smiles after tears have been comforted away and think of how fortunate I was to share some brief moments full of wonder.