As happy as I am to be saving the daycare costs, and THRILLED that the kids get to spend the summer unstructured, riding bikes, swimming, and hanging out with friends and family, I think Liam and I were both a little sad. It's the daycare that he and Thea both had gone to since they were three months old, staffed by wonderful, competent women who have nurtured my kids lovingly.
The daycare experience was really different from what I initially thought it was going to be. Somehow I thought that the kids would be stuck in cribs all day, yelled at by harried workers who couldn't possibly love my babies as much as I did. (In the early days, everything I knew about parenting I gleaned from bad sitcoms.) Instead, the little ones are rarely set down. They're cuddled and fussed over all day long, and the women who care for them nag parents (gently) about dressing them more warmly, sending in their favorite foods, and allowing cookies at the end of the day. As the kids grow older, the daycare workers become teachers, showing kids how to count and read the alphabet, as well as be polite, put away their toys, and get along with friends. Here's a post about Liam switching classes that I think says a lot about the daycare.
The last few years have shown me that things change, always, and you have to just keep yourself as open to experience as possible, not attaching yourself to anything because permanence doesn't exist. But I have to admit, I'm having a little trouble with this change.
