D Day

Today I go back to work. I'm done whining. It's hard, it sucks, but it is reality and I have to deal with it. I think it's time to take Ann Crittenden's The Price of Motherhood back to the library and stop thinking about it--she makes too many true points about how the inflexibility of the modern workplace makes it impossible for women to feel like they're giving the best to their children AND their jobs. I want to believe things can be different for my family, and at least this month they are. Nate has taken a leave of absence from work to stay home with Clementine, so the shock of returning to work today is a little less traumatic because I'm not starting the day by leaving her at daycare.

Last week I think I settled on the daycare we'll be using. I almost drove right on by when I noticed the taupe (is there any car color that reflects less personality than taupe?) minivan with the yellow ribbon (cross cut out of the center) magnet on the back, but I realized I really was making too many snap judgements and needed to let it go. Other than the daycare assistant/minivan owner's WWJD bracelet, there was little to object to. The kids seemed happy and Julie seemed to love what she does. I guess that's all I can hope for. I did have some objections to her decor--the upstairs was so darn middle American and 70s that I actually winced a little, but remember I was doing my best to refrain from judgement. I can't imagine what people see in my decor, so let's just move on.

We took Clementine to a poetry reading last week, and she behaved wonderfully. I think she picked up on the whole vocal vibe because as she sat sweetly on my lap, she began to coo in response to the poems. There was a particularly horrible local poet as part of the reading in the round, and as I tell the story now, she filled her diaper when he stood up to read--the kid's got taste. Given her touchy temper, I think he's lucky that's all he got. The evening was capped off with Sekou Sundiata, who is one of our favorite readers. He has put together a community potluck kind of approach to poetry circles and groups, out of which the presentation we attended emerged. Although the fussy sound guy int he back wasn't thrilled with my cooing daughter, I thought it was a totally appropriate place to have a kid. I can't wait to take her to her next reading--if only Detroit weren't starved for poetry.

Clementine has really rounded some big corners in terms of her behavior and tolerance. We took her to Chicago this weekend and she totally behaved in the car! Actually, she slept most of the way, which meant we could listen to real music instead of her comforting static. It was lovely and a bit of an ADD-fest, as there were so many bands I was aching to hear. I'll confess I am trying to form her taste subconsciously with all the hope in the world she'll one day insist on playing something like The Ramones in the care as opposed to The Wiggles. We went to my niece's 3rd birthday party, which was probably her dream come true--a great setting, tons of kids and lots of scream-and-run-around-until-you-drop kind of fun. It kind of made me want to get my tubes tied. I couldn't help but think of college frat boys, especially the party-hard TKEs at my alma mater. They had terrible reputations, but one-on-one were actually nice, sometimes even intelligent guys. The minute more than three or four of them were in a room together, though, they turned into animals with lampshade on their heads--chugging beers, slamming cans on their heads, peeing on walls. There were times the frenzy of the kids playing at the party reached that same level of hysteria (without the beer of course), and it mystified me and Nate. Luckily for us, we have a few years before figuring out how to mitigate that beehive. For now we can imagine a party with Clementine and her peers--they would slouch in their various seats and swings on on their floor mats, cooing, crying and eating. The loudest part would probably be their parents competitively comparing milestones and nighttime terror stories.

I'm off to work now after taking a few more minutes breathing in every detail of my little girl. How will I ever stay focused on what I'm doing at my job when there's so much I could be doing at home??