Babysitter Blues

Yesterday was my last day of work! Yay! It couldn't have happened a moment sooner since walking from the parking lot to my building felt like hiking up Everest.

I managed to put myself in a tizzy of guilt (yes, a familiar theme with me) about the fact that we still have our babysitter for little Q. We needed to guarantee her a certain amount of hours when I required her full time, and nothing has changed yet in terms of our contract. We are trying to figure out our summer plans and what to do to keep her happy since we'll need her again when I go back to work in the fall. She is so great we don’t want to lose her. But obviously, I am home now, and will be home all summer. So, long story short, nothing has changed yet. We're still paying her for a lot of childcare.

My plan, until I deliver, at least, is to give little Q his time with his pals and main squeeze, D (the nanny), and to also make his day much shorter with her and have several hours with his real main squeeze, ME. The mommy.

My guilt is that now that I am able to be with him all the time, I feel like I should be with him all day. Especially when things happen like at the 2 year old birthday party on Sunday where a few moms mentioned that they see Quinn at the playground. The playground that they go to with their children while my child arrives with Nanny D.

Everything is about to change for him, I really feel like some QT, one on one with me, is important. After all, he will never have me in this way again. What he will have will be great in it’s own way, it just won’t be Quinn! The center of the Universe!

The reasons I am not taking him back fulltime are a) we are paying D anyway, might as well take advantage b) he’s got a good thing going with his friends and I don’t actually think taking that away from him to be with grumpy tired me all day is necessarily better for him, and c) I am so freakin’ tired. As the husband said, “You’re not working now because theoretically you can’t. You are too pregnant. You should not feel bad because taking care of him is hard. You need to take care of yourself, too” Right.

This morning, I decided to drop him off nice and late. We were at the grocery store getting some food together for his lunch after a great morning of playing (we still don’t have a kitchen, but we should have one by Friday, thank god). My back was hurting. I had a big cramp going down my leg from some nerve in my lower back. Whatever. It’s par for course at this stage, right? Quinn started to melt down in the store. Eventually, I knew he was going to need to be picked up. With my groceries in one hand, I scooped him up in the other arm (“Ouch!” said my lower back). He took his toy train and walloped me in the head. “Ouch!” I said “That hurt!”

I finally got him, with me panting and with a shooting pain down my leg, to the car. I finagled his arching tantruming body into the car seat while he tried to pull my hair and pinch my face. The joy of toddlerhood never ceases to amaze. I hoisted myself into the driver seat. I looked at him pointedly in the rearview mirror, “Time to go see D, little man.”

I called husband up after dropping him off and confessed that I couldn’t manage a few hours on my own with him. What is wrong with me? He assured me that it is because I am 9 months pregnant and told me to go home and take a nap.

I am picking Quinn up early this afternoon. Here’s hoping it goes better.