Last week I worked from home on Thursday and Friday and did trial runs with her daycare. I think that helped with my transition. I got most of my tears out on Thursday and managed to keep dry eyes today. This is the longest I have been away from my sweet Baby Lou, though, and as the afternoon creeps along I find myself ready for some time with my sweet little one.
I was just reading this quoted passage from Anne Lamott's Operating Instructions (via cup of jo):
"I have a friend named Anne, this woman I've known my entire life, who took her two-year-old up to Tahoe during the summer. They were staying in a rented condominium by the lake. And of course, it's such a hotbed of gambling that all the rooms are equipped with these curtains and shades that block out every speck of light so you can stay up all night in the casinos and then sleep all morning. One afternoon she put the baby to bed in his playpen in one of these rooms, in the pitch-dark, and went to do some work. A few minutes later, she heard her baby knocking on the door from inside the room, and she got up, knowing he'd crawled out of his playpen. She went to put him down again, but when she got to the door, she found he'd locked it. He had somehow managed to push in the little button on the doorknob. So he was calling to her, "Mommy, Mommy," and she was saying to him, "Jiggle the doorknob, darling," and of course he didn't speak much English—mostly he seemed to speak Urdu. After a moment, it became clear to him that his mouther couldn't open the door, and the panic set in. He began sobbing. So my friend ran around like crazy trying everything possible, like trying to get the front door key to work, calling the rental agency where she left a message on the machine, calling the manager of the condominium where she left another message, and running back to check in with her son every minute or so. And there he was in the dark, this terrified little child. Finally she did the only thing she could,, which was to slide her fingers underneath the door, where there was a one-inch space. She kept telling him over and over to bend down and find her fingers. Finally somehow he did. So they stayed like that for a really long time, on the floor, him holding onto her fingers in the dark. He stopped crying. She kept wanting to go call the fire department or something,but she felt that contact was the most important thing. She started saying, "Why don't you lie down, darling, and take a little nap on the floor?" and he was obviously like, "Yeah, right, Mom, that's a great idea, I'm feeling so nice and relaxed." So she kept saying, "Open the door now," and every so often he'd jiggle the knob, and eventually, after maybe half an hour, it popped open."It brought tears to my eyes. I truly never knew how much my heart could possibly love before my sweet Baby Lou.
