The Babysitter.

It was with some trepidation and anxiety that I parted ways with our babysitter over a year ago. She had lovingly cared for my oldest daughter for two-years, had assisted in potty-training, witnessed milestones and from time to time offered parenting advice. But with the arrival of a new baby and some changes in logistics with my oldest starting school it just wasn't realistic or practical to continue care with her.

Since then, I've mostly been home with the girls, except for while my husband was laid-off earlier this year and some days that I supply taught after he went back to work. This spring when my husband and I decided it was time for me to stop playing at stay-at-home-mom and really get serious about re-joining the workforce it meant looking for new childcare. Of course it was with even greater trepidation and anxiety than before that I set out on the hunt. When I finally found someone earlier this summer I was pleased at how well our parenting philosophies and styles seemed to mesh. I was happy that my girls would again be in a home daycare setting, that there would be other children their ages, and most importantly that I had found someone willing to take both of them. Yeah! Right?

This week they started their transition into her care. All of those things that I was so happy about seemed to mean little to nothing as I prepared to take them there for an afternoon visit. I wasn't really worried about my oldest. She loves other kids and is always looking for a playmate. But, when we were eating lunch before leaving she got very anxious, teary-eyed, and told me that she didn't want to go. "Oh-oh" I was thinking as we chatted about how fun it would be and why I was going back to work. Concern for my oldest distracted me from thinking about the baby for a minute. At almost 15 months I had never left her with anyone other than family. I remembered leaving my oldest daughter when I went back to work and it was hard, and harder still after switching her care from a family member to our last babysitter. Of course everything worked out and we ended up adoring our babysitter, but this time seemed different. Two kids to worry about, a new school and a new schedule. Plus my youngest, though more sociable, is also more dependent and for whatever reason she and I have a closer bond. With heart aching and pounding at the same time, I loaded the girls in the car and off we went.

Drop-off was smooth and when I picked them up a few hours later they both were happily playing. Nothing to have worried about. Today being day number two I figured my youngest would lose it when we got there. I thought that after being there once she would know what was going on and not be happy. I was wrong! The sitter opened the door and in walked both the girls. My oldest stopped to say 'hello' and take her shoes off, but my youngest just kept walking. She toddled right into the living room and began scoping for toys. I waved good-bye and was out the door without even having closed it when I went it. Success! Right?

If I'm honest I'm happy that I've found what seems to be a safe, happy and loving place for them to be when we can't be with them. BUT, I'm feeling a little crushed, a little sad and a just a little heart-broken. It is so ironic that as parents we strive for our kids to be well-rounded, social and kind while trying to strike balance between our work, parent, and personal lives; and then, when we see the first signs of having achieved this goal we are a little hurt. Hurt that our kids don't cry for us the way we silently ache for them when they are away from us. Letting our babies grow-up is so very bittersweet. In a short while I will happily go pick my girls up, hopefully receive "happy-to-see-you-Mommy" hugs and kisses, and as we leave the sitters enjoy a moment of pride realizing that my girls have hearts big enough to love their parents and care for all the other people who help to raise them. For me that is an accomplishment! My husband and I are raising two, sweet little girls who know how to care for and enjoy the company of others. Bittersweet!