Sigh. Rarely do I start a post with a sigh, but there it is. Sigh.
Right before Christmas I took my resignation from Iowa City Hospice off the table. All the things that had led me to think the best thing for our family was for me to be home had either been fixed, weren't happening, or were no longer as serious as far reasons go. The day after this became official, I toured Montessori programs for Ash. He had been going to Renae's once a week for a long time, but she was going to be having a newborn start in January and I didn't feel right asking her to up the time Asher was spending at her house. Plus Ben and I reasoned that being almost two, he would love being with a bunch of kids his age and his little brain would eat up 'school'. Our first choice of programs happened to have an opening so Asher was all set. We paid our deposit, paid January 'tuition' (don't get me started on what it feels like to pay tuition starting at age 1), and crossed our fingers he would transition quickly and love his new adventure.
On Monday morning Ben and I took Asher together to drop him off. We got our access code to the door, had our fingerprint check in/check out registered, and took Asher down to the Pine Classroom. Inside he was suspicious. But we were able to distract him with one of the billions of activities and he wandered off. We said good bye and left the room. Eight hours later, I went to pick him up. I had received notice that he had eaten all of his breakfast, lunch, and snack, slept for two hours, and was doing well- so I was expecting a happy, engaged little boy when I arrived. Asher was in the lap of one of the teachers, tears streaming down his face, while the other kids played together across the room. When he heard my voice, he stumbled out of her lap, started visibly shaking, wailed "Maaaaama" and sobbing, ran into my arms. When I tried to put him down to get his coat on he literally climbed up my body and wrapped his arms around my neck yelling, "Nooooo!". So that was day one. Tuesday he was home with me and we had a great day, chasing geese, going to the bookstore, having a smoothie happy hour... life was good. Both Monday and Tuesday night he didn't sleep very well, waking up crying a few times throughout the night, but it wasn't too alarming.
On Wednesday morning, a school day, he started crying in our garage as we left the house. By the time we got to the school he was inconsolable. He has never gripped my clothes so tight. We walked into the room and I had a chance to talk to his teacher (who was not there when I picked him up Monday) and she told me that he had struggled all day Monday: crying, not wanting to play with the other kids, throwing his food on the floor and not eating. We talked about changing his schedule, letting him have a pacifier, bringing pictures of Ben and I for him to hold on to while he was there, and decided that for that day, he would have his paci and that I would come get him a few hours earlier than his scheduled pick up time. When I tried to put him down he started shaking and wailing. I couldn't actually get him off of me and the teacher had to peel him away. I said goodbye (crying, of course) and shut the door to the classroom. I could hear him screaming "Mooommmy!" all the way at the end of the hall as I was walking out the front door. I called about an hour later to check on him and she said he had calmed down but wasn't eating and didn't want to play with the other kids. A few hours later I returned to the school, and when I peaked in the classroom window I swear my heart actually broke a little bit. The kids were all running around together on the activity rug, except for one. My little was laying curled up in a ball on his cot, wrapped in a blanket, paci in his mouth, eyes squeezed tightly shut, tears streaming down his face. He looked like he had just made it through some sort of natural disaster and was shell-shocked. When I said his name, he whimpered, and then just started weeping. He couldn't even get himself off the cot. I scooped him up and took him home. Last night when we tried to put him to bed, he was up for three hours past his bed time crying. He woke up throughout the night, needing to be held and told that we were there.
This morning, he walked back and forth between Ben and I, touching each of us. It was so clear that he needed reassurance that we were both still there and hadn't left him.
So that was that. Instead of bringing him back to school, I called the amazing Renae and she said "You bring him back to Nae's". Done. The whole car ride over Asher was in the back saying "Nae Nae Nae!". When he got there he ran up to her and she gave him a huge hug then put him down and he scampered off to play with the other kids. She sent me pictures all morning of him laughing, dancing, and playing with the other children.
Needless to say, we know what our long-term plan is.
This is what I learn all the time as a parent: you have the best intentions, and you think you have a great idea, but it may not be the right time or the right fit for your kid. Ben and I thought for sure Asher would assimilate well, he is so outgoing and playful. And we both know that given a few weeks he would have settled in and probably done just fine. But for us, the question was, is the benefit of Montessori in an almost 2 year old worth the trauma of this transition? Especially considering we hope to be moving sometime in 2015, so we know we should anticipate that change as well. The answer was no. Asher is going to keep going to the place that he feels safe and that he is comfortable with. Someday he will need to start school and it will probably be tough (probably=definitely based on this experience), but at that time it will be something he
needs to do. Right now, it isn't. A wise woman told me being a parent is two steps forward and one step back, over and over and over again. This is so true.
If Ash had started in a daycare program (full days, more than just one day a week) I'm sure this would have gone so differently. And maybe if his personality were different he would have been just fine starting at a center as a two year old (we got lots of feedback from other moms whose kids struggled at drop off but then were totally fine). But for our child, starting a center-based program as a 2 year old was too hard of a transition. I realized the first day that the timing for him was not right, that he felt stressed and scared but couldn't communicate it, other than to cry and need to be held (message received little, message received). And we probably could have given it more time, but again, I just couldn't bring myself to do it when we have an alternative that we know works and when we aren't in a hurry. With everything else, we judge our actions based on Asher's reactions. And to our credit, as much as I love to beat myself up as a mom, one of things we do so well is to take a step back and say, "He isn't ready for this next step, let's just try again later". And that is the kind of mom I want to keep being.
Tomorrow I will go meet with the director about whether or not we can get any of our January tuition back (which I hope we can)... but otherwise we are looking at two very expensive days of childcare.
So that is that. Renae has (so graciously) agreed to take Asher extra days each week so that I can reach a better work-life balance and I am much less anxious today knowing that we have made our decision.
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