First Day of School

Since we moved, we have been on the waiting list for the daycare center at M's work. This is a good center with an excellent reputation, which explains the absurdly long waiting list. We were informed about 2 months ago that the earliest H could enroll would be June 2011. Until then, we had something that resembled a childcare plan - H's wonderful babysitter would continue to come through August and then he would start at a neighborhood daycare full-time for a few months. When June 2011 rolled around, we would re-evaluate the situation and enroll Henry into the daycare at M's work. Although not a perfect plan, I anticipated having the whole summer to prepare for the transition into full-time daycare.

While M & I were in CA just a few weeks ago, we received notification that a last minute spot had opened up at the daycare at M's work - to start immediately. Oh, and we were given 24 hours to make up our minds! I had not even seen the facility yet. This message was met with mixed emotions. Yay - he got a spot at the well-regarded daycare located at M's work! Boo - he has to start immediately and we have very little time to consider our options! Mike convinced them to extend our decision deadline for a few days - at least until we returned to the state. They obliged, and as soon as we returned home from CA, we visited the facility. We brought Henry with us.

I immediately liked the place. And so did Henry. He was running around, awed by the trucks, stage, trains, puppets, books, fort, slide, kiln( yes, they even have their own kiln!). We met his teachers, and they pointed out the giant construction crane that could be seen outside the window. The kids had drawn pictures of the crane and had been reading stories about cranes and trucks. All in all, the place was nearly perfect. I was so relieved. I felt good about the place, but now we had to survive the lead up to his first day of school.

I dreaded the first day of school and kept wishing that it would be over - just rip off the band aid already! Because it all happened so suddenly, we had very little time to talk to Henry about this life changing event that was about to happen to him. He has been in daycare previously, and he did great there, but his last full-time day care experience was almost a year ago and I wasn't sure if he would remember.

M & I were so anxious and jittery that we didn't sleep the night before the first day of school (just like old times...). The next morning, I am sure Henry was a little perplexed by the chipper yet self-contradictory tone of conversation. "Morning Henry!!! Today is a big day! But not that big - don't worry. Not that there is anything to worry about. Why would anyone be worried? But if you do, that is ok. But you won't. You will be fine. Not that you need to reassured. It will be fun. Time will fly by. But that implies that you want time to go by quickly. You won't - you will want to savor the day. Because you will be having fun. And mommy and daddy will pick you up at the end of the day." No wonder the kid practically leaped out of the car when we pulled up to the school.

Update - its been a few weeks into the "school" year now. Henry has adjusted well. I will admit that not every morning drop off went as smoothly as the first day. He has shed a couple of tears. This week, however, he is cheerfully waving "bye-bye" when I leave. When M picks him up, Henry is in no hurry to leave. Henry loves the food at the school and he is called the "water boy" because he reminds everyone to take their water bottles with them during outdoor playtime. He is also learning many new words and can drink from an open cup (versus a closed, sippy cup).

We apologize for this delay.

Climbing the stairs for the 17th time at Lambert.


After our trip to CA, we returned to STL to pick up Henry from his grandparents' house. Our flight the following day was scheduled to leave at 5PM and arrive at 7:30PM. We were aware that flying with a toddler, during that dreaded window between 5PM and bedtime (aka the witching hour), on the Friday 5pm flight of a 3-day holiday weekend was possibly asking for trouble (or at least some angry glares from other passengers), but it was the only flight home that we could find with 2 seats together. After my parents dropped us off at the airport (and then presumably proceeded directly to happy hour after spending one week with a toddler - at least, that is what I would have done), we were promptly informed that our flight was delayed by 45 minutes. Since we were already pushing the reasonable limits of Henry's routine, any type of delay was taking us dangerously close to meltdown. However, on the plus side, a delay gave us a little time to stroll around the terminal and burn off some energy. It was not long before we received our 2nd notice of another delay - now our flight was delayed 1.5 hours.

Being stuck in the airport with a toddler wasn't really all that bad. We found sections of the terminal that were unoccupied and Henry roamed freely. In fact, I wish I had a pedometer strapped to him that night because I suspect he walked several miles. The delay announcements kept coming.* Mike said jokingly, "We may not arrive home until 2:30 this morning!" Truer words were never spoken, because, as predicted, we didn't arrive home until 2:30 AM the next morning.

We decided that we should save all of our provisions in case the delay continued for hours (which it did) and that we should treat ourselves to a real meal for dinner. Every time we did a lap around the terminal, looking like gypsy caravan with a stroller piled high with backpacks and diaper bags, Mike and I would wistfully glance toward the only bar/restaurant, but, not only did it not have any high chairs, the harried serving staff and exhausted patrons shot us looks like "Don't even think about it."

So, we went outside of security in search of better dining options. Bingo! A Pasta House in the main terminal - Henry could have spaghetti and mommy and daddy could have a much needed adult beverage. Henry must have worked up an appetite from all of his airport laps because I have never, ever, seen him eat as much spaghetti as he did that night. It was unbelievable. Finally, we had to cut him off because it just didn't seem possible to stuff any more pasta into his tiny little body.

By the time dinner was over, we had received notification that our flight was again delayed 'til 10 PM. It was now technically past Henry's bedtime, and he showed no signs of slowing down. All of the pasta just gave him the energy to climb 30 flights of stairs. Literally. Henry found a flight of stairs to the upper level of the main terminal, which he could climb and quickly return to the lower level on the escalator (with assistance, of course). So, Henry and his dad completed that circuit 30 times in a row. I counted because I had nothing else to do. Ok, so by now, Henry has walked, more like trotted, through the terminal for 3 hours straight and has climbed 30 flights of stairs. Surely, by now, he was ready to fall asleep and stay asleep until we gently laid him in his crib at home? Nope. He remained wide awake.

Although he refused to sleep, Henry did eventually zone out in his stroller. At close to 11PM, we finally boarded our flight, which meant that we had been in the airport for 7.5 hours. Once we were in the air and the cabin lights were out, he finally, finally took a little nap - about 45 min. As soon as we landed, he was wide awake again. Remarkably, when we arrive at 1:30 AM at ATL, it was as if it were 1:30 PM. The place was a zoo! Storms had delayed every flight to/from one of the busiest airports in the world and there were tired, strung out passengers EVERYWHERE. We heard a few horror stories about being stuck on the tarmac for 3 hours (at which point planes are required to return to the gate) and we were grateful that, although we were stuck for hours, at least we were in the airport. I can't imagine what we would have done being stuck on the plane with Henry for that long - no deserted terminals to explore, no flights of stairs, no spaghetti, and no diapers!

We got our luggage, took the shuttle to the car lot, and drove home. We pulled in to the driveway at exactly 2:30 AM, and Henry was awake for all of it. Fortunately, he went to sleep the instant we placed him in the crib. We went to bed soon after that. The next morning, we woke up at 9:30 AM and I could have sworn that it was 6 AM. Henry slept in. Finally, at 11:30 AM, we decided that we better wake him up or else this was going to cause some significant schedule disruptions.

The 3 of us spent the rest of the day in a haze. All things considered, M and I were starting to feel like we got away with something. We left him for a week with his grandparents and he was fine; we survived a very long airport delay and, not only did he not cry, he even had fun in the airport; he stayed up until 2:30 AM and was contentedly playing the next day; so, yes, we were lulled into a false sense of confidence, even self-congratulatory in nature, when...

The moment of reckoning was upon us. At exactly 6:22 PM on Saturday, 16 hours after returning home, Henry hit his breaking point. The earth shook. The thunder roared. The wind howled. And so did Henry. It was time for his apparently much needed and unavoidable MELTDOWN.

Oh, and who, in his estimation, was to blame for all the recent crimes against him? Me. Who was the target of his fury? Me. Who did he banish from his room? Me. (how soon he forgets about the time I saved him from that poisonous snake...) The meltdown subsided after 45 minutes of solid wailing and then he fell soundly asleep. It was uncharacteristic of Henry, but I am certain he had a lot of pent up frustration and confusion to let out. Message received. The next morning, we all woke up at the usual time, in our own beds, and breathed a sigh of relief.






*As an interesting aside, we received updates frequently from the airline regarding our flight status but Mike and I never received them at the same time, in the same way, or with the same information. For example, M would receive a text from the airline informing of a new estimated departure time and about 15 minutes later, I would receive a recorded voice message from the airline with an even later time of departure. It was as if the airline planned to alternate status updates - one for me, one for Mike. Perhaps the airline thought that it would be too irritating if we received simultaneous texts/voicemails? Or maybe the airline thought that by staggering the update method and recipient, it would give us something to talk about and thus be the glue that held us together during what was certain to be a stressful period?

Henry goes on a trip.

At the grocery store.

At the children's museum.

In May, M and I were able to coordinate our work schedules so that we both attended the same conference in San Diego. In addition to the conference, we both had secondary meetings in CA so that meant we were in San Diego for a total of 7 days. Because it was a work trip, we left Henry with his grandparents in Edwardsville who had graciously offered to take care of him for an entire week. Since he was born, one of us has been with Henry every night of his life so this trip was momentous in that it was the first time that Henry would be on his own, so to speak. We had no idea what to expect - would he be mad at us? would he be scared without us? would he cry the whole time? would he be comfortable with his new surroundings? I was anxious about this trip, but I also felt that it was a necessary and important hurdle for him (me) to overcome.

Because we do not see our families regularly because of the distance, we began preparing for the visit by skyping with Grandad and Nana (Note: there has been an evolution of the grandparent nomenclature but H now says "Nana" when he sees my mother's picture so I think Nana will stick) on a regular basis. The skyping seemed to help because Henry seemed familiar with my parents when we arrived. Also, we tried to talk to Henry about our upcoming trip at least once per day in the preceding month. Just a quick statement like "You are going to visit Grandad and Nana while Mama and Dada go to a conference, but we will be back soon."

I think the pre-visit preparations helped because Henry did a great job on his visit. I think all of us were kind of holding our breaths waiting for the moment when Henry, after waking from a nap, looked around and realized that his parents had abandoned him. Turns out, that moment didn't really come. He was happy and content with his grandparents. They took the week off from work and planned all sorts of fun activities.

Henry played with his cousin Ellie, he went to the zoo, the Edwardsville children's museum, the park, the Missouri Botanical Gardens. He spent some time with his Aunt Amy at her new house. And he went to the grocery store nearly every day. As he is eager to do, Henry established a new routine immediately. He learned some new words (like juice) and developed a great appreciation for honking horns. We talked to him on the phone a couple of times a day (excessive? maybe. But we are first time parents. I am sure the time will come when we dash off a postcard at the airport while misspelling his name).

When we returned to pick Henry up after having been gone for 1 week, we were certain that there would be anger, distrust, tears, or something. Henry greeted us with a cheerful "Dada! Mama!" And that was that. (Or was it... ) In fact, Henry did so well with his grandparents that we have decided to take advantage of this opportunity and send him to stay for a few days every month.