Back to Work
So this week is my first week back to work and having to leave this sweet face in the care of others.....
Which is probably why I hoarded her at home snuggled up next to me for the week prior.
My first week back was a trial of horror at the daycare. Monday happened to be a holiday so I got a one day reprieve from work. James was working days which means I was on my own getting us both up, ready and out the door. It was a tad crazy but we made it to daycare on time. Bee was sleepy as it was her usual time to nap. I brought her usual gear with me- sleep sheep to make it sound like her room, her swaddler from home, her paci, etc. I gave the caretaker the daycare instruction sheet that they keep to know her stuff (like if you try to give my kid peanut butter I will shank you and you shall die a slow death.) and loaded her breast milk bottles into the fridge.
After all that I had to leave for work so I took myself out to the office to pay our bill. In the office I could see through a window into the infant room where my angel was sitting in a swing looking at the fridge while the caretaker was setting up her crib. I shoved my check at the lady and managed not to sob until I reached my car. Where I called James blubbering for my 20 minute commute. I, of course, wore water proof mascara in anticipation of a meltdown so I pulled myself together before pulling into work.
I heart my co-workers and they were so kind when I broke down again in the hallway after saying all my hellos. The males backed away slowly and I heard one of them mumble to the other about crying. This pulls at the heartstrings of all moms so pretty soon there was a hallway of crying mothers. More sniffling and more coffee lead to a productive day. It was nice to be back at work, showered and have actual make up on my face. I find that I look a lot better with it on. I'm not a natural, glowing beauty that could go on Survivor and look amazing au natural. Nope.
I have a wonderful schedule at work and work half days on the two days that Bee is in daycare so I tore out of the office at 1:30 and made it there in record time. I walked in the door and I could hear her crying at the front desk. I almost ran. I entered and saw Bee red faced, crying and looking generally pathetic. I took her from the caregiver and she immediately stopped crying. They explained they'd been trying to feed her for an hour. I took the bottle from her and she chugged it. I tried to burp her and she threw up all over my arm. Sweet. I'd been looking forward to smelling like curdled milk again. Bee promptly falls asleep in my arms.
I take a look at her status sheet to find that she's slept a total of 15 minute and eaten a 1/4 of her normal intake. I had already know that she didn't sleep too well outside of her room and gets distracted in public so I wasn't surprised. I was surprised when they told me they threw out the unused breast milk. Idonkey kicked the incompetent attendant calmly asked why. Some sort of health code prevents them from opening the fridge and placing it back in. Okey dokey. I slowly die inside because it is ever so hard for me to get ahead of Bee with breast milk.They also ask me to demo the Miracle Blanket that she sleeps in..... uhhhh does that mean she hasn't been swaddled all day...well no, we used a regular blanket but she got out... #$#%#%#. They tell me these things must be new. No incompetence they're not. I demo. Oh, that's how that works. $#%^$.
I shuttled my baby home and she sleeps for most of the afternoon and night. When she wakes she shrieks as if in pain until I hold her. She occasionally opens a slitted eye to make sure I'm still there. She has no use for her daddy and shrieks at him when he arrives on the scene. James makes sad eyes and proclaims her scared of him. I believe it's PTSD.
Day two rolls around and we rinse and repeat the morning. Momma is exhausted. Bee thinks the day before was a bad dream and is happy clam. We arrive inhell the infant room on day two and the attendant asks me to help her get settled in her crib. I comply and demo the swaddle again. Get her settled in her crib. Load 4 small bottles into the fridge so that if she doesn't eat them they don't throw away her food. Explain to offer 2 bottles at each feeding. Leave. Work at frantic pace. Tear out of there after eating at my desk. Arrive early to drop in to see if they are torturing my baby when they don't expect me.
Bee isn't crying when I arrive but having a bottle. Progress. The afternoon gal says that she doesn't think that I'm giving her enough food at each feeding. I look at her sheet. They've been only giving her 1 small bottle per feeding. Then she starts screaming a half hour later because she's hungry and isn't sleeping through her nap. I ram my head into the wall. Ok only in my mind. I explain what happened the day before and why there were 4 bottles. If she looked at the sheet on the wall she'd see that she gets 4 oz per feeding. I bite my tongue. I notice that Bee's swaddle is wrapped around her waist. interesting. I have to demo the swaddle for the 3rd person for the 3rd time. She's slept for a total of 1 1/2 hours. Supposed to be 4 hours. I contemplate cutting myself.
The attendant looks at me and comments on how I don't work much. And how maybe I could work more when she gets older. I give her the sideways eye. English isn't her first language so I choose not to take offense and not torip at her face argue.
Instead I shuttle Bee home for a good nap. She shrieks for me again and will sleep only in my arms for part of the afternoon. She still shrieks in horror when her daddy tries to take her from me. Joy. Mommy is so traumatized from the daycare experience that she doesn't even mind. We watch a total 4 hours of Border Wars over the afternoon. Bee sleeps and Mommy has new respect for the Border Patrol.
The good part of this story is that she only goes to daycare for 2 days a week for under 5 hours per day. I am confident that after all the talking that came out of my mouth that the daycare will get it together. Bianca will not suffer and die. I buy a Woombie with a zipper. Certainly that is easy to figure out. Right? At least she goes to her Nana's on Thursdays- cue those angels and their singing.
Looking forward to the weekend with a daddy off work and the clan back together.
Which is probably why I hoarded her at home snuggled up next to me for the week prior.
My first week back was a trial of horror at the daycare. Monday happened to be a holiday so I got a one day reprieve from work. James was working days which means I was on my own getting us both up, ready and out the door. It was a tad crazy but we made it to daycare on time. Bee was sleepy as it was her usual time to nap. I brought her usual gear with me- sleep sheep to make it sound like her room, her swaddler from home, her paci, etc. I gave the caretaker the daycare instruction sheet that they keep to know her stuff (like if you try to give my kid peanut butter I will shank you and you shall die a slow death.) and loaded her breast milk bottles into the fridge.
After all that I had to leave for work so I took myself out to the office to pay our bill. In the office I could see through a window into the infant room where my angel was sitting in a swing looking at the fridge while the caretaker was setting up her crib. I shoved my check at the lady and managed not to sob until I reached my car. Where I called James blubbering for my 20 minute commute. I, of course, wore water proof mascara in anticipation of a meltdown so I pulled myself together before pulling into work.
I heart my co-workers and they were so kind when I broke down again in the hallway after saying all my hellos. The males backed away slowly and I heard one of them mumble to the other about crying. This pulls at the heartstrings of all moms so pretty soon there was a hallway of crying mothers. More sniffling and more coffee lead to a productive day. It was nice to be back at work, showered and have actual make up on my face. I find that I look a lot better with it on. I'm not a natural, glowing beauty that could go on Survivor and look amazing au natural. Nope.
I have a wonderful schedule at work and work half days on the two days that Bee is in daycare so I tore out of the office at 1:30 and made it there in record time. I walked in the door and I could hear her crying at the front desk. I almost ran. I entered and saw Bee red faced, crying and looking generally pathetic. I took her from the caregiver and she immediately stopped crying. They explained they'd been trying to feed her for an hour. I took the bottle from her and she chugged it. I tried to burp her and she threw up all over my arm. Sweet. I'd been looking forward to smelling like curdled milk again. Bee promptly falls asleep in my arms.
I take a look at her status sheet to find that she's slept a total of 15 minute and eaten a 1/4 of her normal intake. I had already know that she didn't sleep too well outside of her room and gets distracted in public so I wasn't surprised. I was surprised when they told me they threw out the unused breast milk. I
I shuttled my baby home and she sleeps for most of the afternoon and night. When she wakes she shrieks as if in pain until I hold her. She occasionally opens a slitted eye to make sure I'm still there. She has no use for her daddy and shrieks at him when he arrives on the scene. James makes sad eyes and proclaims her scared of him. I believe it's PTSD.
Day two rolls around and we rinse and repeat the morning. Momma is exhausted. Bee thinks the day before was a bad dream and is happy clam. We arrive in
Bee isn't crying when I arrive but having a bottle. Progress. The afternoon gal says that she doesn't think that I'm giving her enough food at each feeding. I look at her sheet. They've been only giving her 1 small bottle per feeding. Then she starts screaming a half hour later because she's hungry and isn't sleeping through her nap. I ram my head into the wall. Ok only in my mind. I explain what happened the day before and why there were 4 bottles. If she looked at the sheet on the wall she'd see that she gets 4 oz per feeding. I bite my tongue. I notice that Bee's swaddle is wrapped around her waist. interesting. I have to demo the swaddle for the 3rd person for the 3rd time. She's slept for a total of 1 1/2 hours. Supposed to be 4 hours. I contemplate cutting myself.
The attendant looks at me and comments on how I don't work much. And how maybe I could work more when she gets older. I give her the sideways eye. English isn't her first language so I choose not to take offense and not to
Instead I shuttle Bee home for a good nap. She shrieks for me again and will sleep only in my arms for part of the afternoon. She still shrieks in horror when her daddy tries to take her from me. Joy. Mommy is so traumatized from the daycare experience that she doesn't even mind. We watch a total 4 hours of Border Wars over the afternoon. Bee sleeps and Mommy has new respect for the Border Patrol.
The good part of this story is that she only goes to daycare for 2 days a week for under 5 hours per day. I am confident that after all the talking that came out of my mouth that the daycare will get it together. Bianca will not suffer and die. I buy a Woombie with a zipper. Certainly that is easy to figure out. Right? At least she goes to her Nana's on Thursdays- cue those angels and their singing.
Looking forward to the weekend with a daddy off work and the clan back together.
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