The Daddy’s First Day of Daycare

by The Daddy on February 3, 2011

The Daddy’s first day of preschool also went different than originally expected, but in different ways than The Momma’s First Day.

Part of the main issue was that I originally planned on hanging around, watching from the corners, in the shadows, or peeking through the glass. I was convinced I would want to stay, to see how the Knob reacted to his first time truly away from his parents in a new surrounding. I wouldn’t be stalking to watch the teachers, more for the kid’s sake, and let’s be honest, mostly for my sake. I was convinced it was gonna be super hard, and I wouldn’t want to leave, and get all weird about everything.

Well, I still was weird about everything, let’s not imply otherwise. As the Momma and I were talking with the teachers, there was a definite point where it was a good idea that I should leave, as I was starting to bug out a little. Not necessarily from what you’d think. Contrary to my expectations, I wasn’t freaking out about the room, the conditions, the way the teachers were with the kids, the other kids or any “My Kid Deserves The Best, And Should Be Given The Best” type of irrationality. No, I was concerned for the teachers, the other kids, and the damage our little Knob was going to cause. I found myself hovering, trailing the kid, trying to keep him from stepping on other kids, telling him to keep his voice down, and several other overbearing actions that frankly, we were paying these nice ladies to do. I needed to get out of there, and we all knew it.

Fortunately, The Momma was taking the car to work, so I had to get dropped off back home, kidless. I couldn’t linger, I couldn’t lurk from the shadows, I couldn’t stay and freak out about every inappropriate action or tumble he might take. I was sent home, alone.

At first, it was strange, but I eased into a whirlwind of productivity, unhindered by my darling angel little boy’s every annoying need. Petty irritating needs like getting fed, getting changed, being interacted with, you know, the needy crap that doesn’t let me breathe or have any time to myself to get some work done! (Editor’s note: The Daddy is a total smartass, and loves the kid to death)

Shut up, editor. I’m trying to be all manly and stuff.

After awhile, it started to eat at me. It was past time for him to wake up. Why wasn’t he making any noise? Is the baby monitor working? How long has it been since I fed him? Did he get outside and is lost somewhere? I couldn’t get my head around the fact that he wasn’t there. Once those nagging feelings started to ebb away, the remainder became slightly guilty for the pleasure I felt in getting TONS OF SHIT DONE. I was a productive juggernaut ninja, but I couldn’t help but feel like Daniel Plainview receiving his salvation in There Will Be Blood.


My logical brain knew this wasn’t the case, but my irrational emotional parts were getting me all sad. This was compounded by The Knob’s slightly quieter nature when he and The Momma came home. The sad feelings went away, and I know this is for his own good, but I guess it will just take some time to get used to the situation. I ended up not as upset as I thought I would be, but the feelings were definitely stronger than I had expected, once they started to manifest.

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