I just dropped Noah off for the first time at daycare; it was bit harder than I thought it would be. As he looked at me with questioning eyes I knew I had to leave quickly because if I saw him cry there is no way I would be driving home alone. The women at the front desk looked at me sympathetically and said;
“It is always hard the first time.”
Meant as reassuring words this only made me feel sadder and I quickly left the building.
As I was driving home I was thinking about how fast the time has gone, Noah will be a year old soon, I thought about how I needed to write about this day so as not to forget but also to make myself feel a little better. As I was simultaneously thinking about this post, the yard work I had to do, and the meetings I had later today; the phone rang. Our neighbor was calling because our separation anxiety inflicted escape artist dog had once again gotten out of the yard and was racing around the neighborhood looking for us. All multitasking thoughts stopped and I began to mentally rearrange my day so I could deal with this problem. That lasted about twenty minutes, then I realized how quiet and empty the house felt. It is a strange feeling knowing that your son is not in the next room taking his morning nap or banging around in the large play pen normally known as the living room. It was just me and the escape artist dog alone in the house. It is a mixed bag of feelings to say the least. Part of you feels a little lighter in the shoulders, another part is thinking about all the things you can get done, but the biggest part of you is just lonely and wondering how your Son is doing in a strange place with strange people. Then I begin to count the hours until I could see him again.