I really don’t like dwelling on negative things, here on the blog, or off. Lord knows, people have worse problems than I do.
But when you leave your child, kicking and screaming, bashing the poor preschool teacher as she’s trying to hold her off you, well, that kind of sucks and I need to purge that feeling if I’m to function properly until I go pick her up (85 mins away and counting….)
What’s worse is that I know exactly how she’s feeling, for when I was a child I was the same way; I remember being prized off my mother as she was leaving, and crying hot, indignant tears; of betrayal, of anger, and, mostly, of fear.
Fear of I don’t know what, exactly; not the other kids (not really), but more to do with this question, “What if she never comes back?”
I was a nightmare for babysitters, because in the house where I grew up, I could look out of the bathroom window down into the valley below our house, the road from which my parents would drive up as they returned from dinner, or a cricket function of my dad’s. I would sit at that window – sometimes secretly, sometimes blatantly – and wait for the flash of the headlights and the glow of the yellow from our Mitsubishi, whereupon I would run for bed, dive under the covers, and be asleep by the time they walked in the house, because I could sleep now knowing I would not be called upon to be head of the household, in case they died.
Because death, unfortunately, was on my mind a lot as a kid.
I believe (HOPE!) that this is not the case of my daughter; that my own mental hurdles when it came to separation anxiety as a child will not be as severe in her. But when she puts on a show, like what she just did an hour ago, I can’t help but wonder.
And despair, a little.
I was talking about this with my Mothers Group friends on Saturday night and I explained how we’ve been battling this problem for a few months now, and I’ve said I’m this close to taking Keira out for the last few weeks of this year, and start over again next year. But is this a victory for her, defeat for me, or all the same thing?
I remember when I was debating to put her in childcare, back when Riley was a newborn, and we did trial it for a few weeks, but it was a disaster. And I said, “Fuck this. I’m bringing her home. She’s staying with me.” And so I did.
But this is nearly two years later. And I’m still hearing those well-intentioned people who placate my fears by repeating such platitudes as “It’s good for their socialisation.” “They need time away from their parents.” “They need to learn.”
I say – what’s the rush?
