Friday night musings from the girl hopped up on a Tylenol / Advil / Tamiflu / Chloraseptic cocktail

Apologies as I’m sure the last thing everyone wants to hear about from the girl that never comes on here anymore is a 3-page rant on second guessing herself on day care choices for her 1-year-old but since I have some free time before the next fever-inducing shiverfest takes hold, hear me out….

A month ago I picked up Emma after daycare with great dreams of a crazy girls nite out while Ryan was at a work function (okay, okay… by crazy I meant dinner in the kids section of the local McDonald’s but let’s go with it). But, instead of my quick-to-smile-and-laugh daughter greeting me I was met by a screaming monster that no one (read: the teachers at daycare) was very interested in comforting. I grabbed her hand to escort her out the door and noticed she had a severe limp. Now understanding what the screaming meant and freaked out as to why Emma was limping, I scooped her up and raced her to the car where I pulled her sneakers free and saw that somehow her baby toe had to pushed backwards in the shoe (as in it was pointing more towards her ankle than away from it). Let me know if you can come up with another way a toe gets pushed completely backwards in a sneaker without it being due to putting the shoe on incorrectly and I’m all ears. But more on that later.

Thank the freaking lord my father-in-law just happened to be a bone doctor (I mean we definitely use him as our on-call medical advisor of everything but this just made it that much better) and my in-laws offered to come over and check things out right away.

My father-in-law reset Emma’s toe, taught us how to splint it and how long to keep rebandaging it and Emma went to bed angry at the world but on the mend.

I was furious at the school but even moreso just confused as to how it could have happened. Fortunately, apparently all the classrooms are video monitored and the Director told me she’d figure out what happened right away. I calmed down over the weekend waiting to hear back from her.

And then Monday came. Now Emma LOVES day care. There was some separation anxiety when she turned one and had to change classrooms and a male-only stranger anxiety issue for spurts of time in the winter, but on the whole, I typically get an over the shoulder wave and not much more when I drop her off in the mornings. Way harsh kid! But not on that Monday. On that Monday when I pulled into the parking lot Emma screamed. She shook on the walk into the day care center, refused to be parted from the blanket she never needs outside of the house and car, and freaked out when her teachers came near her. My heart broke for her. She spent the next two weeks terrified. The only thing that helped was that she still loved seeing her friends.

Meanwhile the Director got back to me on what she discovered. And what she discovered was nothing. Her shoes remained on ALL day. (Okay, so going back to my previous question, how does a toe flip backwards in a sneaker then?) The reason she wasn’t being comforted when she was screaming was because she was only crying because a father came in the room to pick up his child (oh I see, the fact that two months+ ago my daughter spent a couple weeks crying over strange men is now being used against her). I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Their monthly tuition is HUGE. Not NYC prices huge but one of the most expensive in Honolulu. And for that huge fee, they had nothing to say to me except basically my child was crying because of her own insecurities and there was no broken toe (except for the evidence that she actually had a broken toe…).

So Ryan and I found a new day care that she will be starting at on May 23rd. And I was really happy about it. What a good parent I was right? Got my kid removed from a bad situation. Removed her from a place she hated. Which meant that the uprooting and moving her to a place where she knew nobody was going to be fine because it was better than the alternative.

Except that of course while we waiting for the spot to open at the new daycare, Emma got over her fear of old daycare. Well, sort of. Her main teachers are awesome. I always thought so. Emma always thought so. They were not the teachers that were there when Emma was hurt (however that happened). And somehow in the subsequent weeks, Emma was able to differentiate between those awesome teachers and the teachers that were on hand when she got hurt… which is a rotating door of people so she could distance herself from the ones that made her scared.

Meanwhile her awesome teachers now felt they had to call me throughout the day to apologize for the fact that she had a scratch on her back or her arm. I guess I didn’t explain my position to the school correctly. I get that kids get hurt. You do not need to think I’m an overprotective parent (which I am but whatever) that you need to coddle. What you do need to do is to admit something happened on your watch that caused my kid to scream bloody murder and answer my question as to why no one thought there was an issue when she had a severe limp.

Fast forward to this week, Emma started orientation on Wednesday at new daycare. I was so happy that they had carved out three one-hour days before she started full time so that I could show up with her, get her used to her surroundings while I was with her, and then let her go off back to old daycare to spend one last week with her friends. And since I had just gotten off another month of working 100 hour weeks my boss waved off my request to take time off with a “don’t even worry about it, you more than made up for it.”

And then Emma was home on Monday and Tuesday sick with the flu-like virus. But she was already to go back to daycare on Wednesday and spend the morning with me at orientation. Until Tuesday night when my temperature hit 103 and I had to call my mom and ask her to take Emma to orientation instead. But just for Wednesday because I was sure to be better by Thursday morning. Which was the day my temperature hit 104 instead (so my ramblings could just be due to the lack of brain cells I have left). So instead of being my daughter’s rock during a tough transitional time I sat at home shaking under a blanket and waiting for my mom to report back in. And when she did it was what I expected. Emma was scared, didn’t want to be without my mom and cried.

BUT, on the pro-side, new daycare provides daily pictures to the parents which is so so so awesome. I no longer will get a personalized report card of when my kid ate or pooped (I seriously am worried about not getting a daily poop status update) but I guess I’ll get over it due to the inflow of pictures!


1) Yes the hair style is courtesy of moi but it was all due to a request from Emma. And by request I mean she threw a royal tantrum until I added more ponytails to the mix. 2) Okay, not super happy, but not miserable at day 2 of orientation.

So then I was back to patting myself on the back at my good parenting decision until today when Ryan brought home all her stuff from old daycare (which would have been her last day there if I hadn’t been sick and my mom just watched her all day after orientation ended). I sent him to pick up the extra clothes, diapers, wipes, stuff we loaned to the school so I was shocked to see the huge binder of pictures of Emma and art by Emma that he brought back as well. I took a flip through it and burst into tears. She looked so, so happy in all the pictures and here I am pushing her into a strange environment. And pretty much closed the door to ever going back to old daycare by implying legal action would be taken if they didn’t just let me pull her out when I wanted to instead of giving the requisite 30 days notice. (Read: they are definitely NOT welcoming us back with open arms.)


Page from her old daycare binder.

Okay, so that’s probably enough babbling for one night about the not-important-to anyone daycare situations of a 22 month old. Especially since I cried every time I reread this LONG whinefest for proofreading purposes. Ugh. Parenting is tough yo. And yes, I realize this is the epitome of #FirstWorldProblems and in the morning I might take this post down when I realize how snooty, douchy, (insert adjective of your choice) I am to be whining about such a silly problem #DontBlogLateAtNight #DontBlogWhileHighOnAdvil And with that, I wish you all good night!

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