Take your daughter to work...and have a nervous breakdown

At home, Clementine can be very independent. She'll get involved in her kitchen or in reading herself a book or in arranging something (the kid may have a little OCD--I once occupied her for an hour by giving her a box of coins to put in her piggy bank piece by lovin' piece) and wouldn't even notice if I ran out for groceries. Not that I do. But I have thought to myself how easy it would be to work from home or have her with me at work when she plays so independently for hours at a time. That, of course, is a foolish statement born of naivety and silly hopes for the best.

We have no day care this week. Public schools are closed and Julie and her family go south for family vacation--it's one of only two weeks she takes off a year and she totally deserves them, so I never complain. At least not about her. I may have complained this time about how this interruption in normal day care has been all my problem to deal with, as if I don't have a husband with resources of his own, but that's a tired subject that has already been beaten to death in our house. Let's just leave it that I never complain...at least not much.

Since I am one of three dozen people in the free world that apparently had to work on Monday, I knew bringing Clementine with me would be pretty easy, especially since my friends Karen and Dave live in the boys' dormitory across the walk from my office (oh, the glamorous life). While I started the day forcing crayons in Clementine's hand and teaching her not to move around too much in the rolly office chairs lest she fall down and break another bone (my biggest fear is another trip to the ER and all the questions from the doctors), it wasn't long before Aunt K came and swept darling C away for a day of house or, as I like to call it, the best form of birth control there is for a newly married couple: a day with a toddler.

Yesterday was another story. I brought Clementine in with me but hired a sitter for part of the day to hang out at Karen and Dave's. Sitters are expensive, so I tried to be judicious about how long I used her, but I didn't factor in how she might be a little weirded out to sit at a stranger's house for a long day. I ended up having to make several trips over to reassure, coordinate meals, double check and assist. I let her leave during nap time thinking it would be easy to end my day with C in the office with me, but I hadn't anticipated my boss wanting to have a huge spontaneous meeting at 4:00. He was extraordinarily patient with me as I interrupted sentences to ask Clementine not to eat paper clips, rip apart the 60th sticky note pad, throw business cars or touch the thousands of dollars worth of video equipment or as she demanded to watch "Shoe" (a great old cartoon from the 40s), which I had left in Karen's living room. By the time it was all over, we were all exhausted and every last illusion I have at combining work and Clementine at this age is shattered.

Let me be clear: I don't put the blame on her at all. She is such an interesting, chatty, interactive little girl these days that I find myself frequently mired in some trite "Where did the time go?" musings. Seriously. Wasn't she just a baby? I just can't juggle her and the demands of a job at the same time if the ebb and flow doesn't align and make it so that I'm not neglecting one completely to engage with the other. Best not tread there for now, and that's cool with me.

I've solved the rest of the week's day care problems by taking the time off. My lovely friend Laura and I are headed up north today and the menfolk will join us tomorrow evening. There will be snowboarding, shopping, perhaps snowshoeing, an inn on a lake and other fabulousness that is so much better than work I can't even begin to describe it. AND I've got my camera back so I may even have photographic evidence of our journey. I think I heard Clementine sigh when I opened the box last night. Let the excessive picture-taking commence.