Will The Blankie Fit?

Today Gracie starts daycare. This has been a year full of emotional firsts and lasts - first smile, first steps, last time nursing, last time wearing size 6 month clothes. This milestone, though, is perhaps the most emotionally-wrought milestone for me. I have been back at work since last April, so today does not involve the strange quagmire of being a full-time computer programmer and a full-time mother. I'm still working on juggling those two opposing careers, but while I don't always manage to keep it together, I have yet to program a computer to accidentally blow up some random planet or crash the Internet nor have I done anything that would qualify me for Worst Mommy Of The Century Award. (Although, there was that time when I woke up in a dead sweat at 5:00 a.m. convinced that I had left my then 10-week old daughter on her changing table for 2 hours, but that's another story for another time).

I'm still bewildered by those recommendations in baby books that say you should tour several daycare centers, interview all of the staff, inspect every nook and cranny, review the curriculum, analyze the diet provided for the children, carefully assimilate all of this information, and then slowly make your choice about where to send your child. This has not been my experience. Getting Gracie into daycare has been more like trying to get her into an Ivy League College. She has been on the waiting list at several daycares for months. Yep, that's right - MONTHS!   At one center, the one closest to my job, she has been on the waiting list since before we found out she was a girl. She's been on that list as Baby SoAndSo since August of 2003. Finally, when a spot opened up at her daycare, we had less than 24 hours to decide if we wanted her to attend there. It's like you've applied to Harvard, Princeton, Yale, Stanford, and Duke. Harvard is probably your first choice, but Duke calls and says, "Hey, we've got a spot for you. Do you want it? If you don't take it quickly, your spot is going to the next person on our list!" Luckily, we are happy with the daycare that Gracie is going to attend. It's clean, the children seem happy, and best of all, Steve & I know the directors personally. Maybe it's not Harvard, but it comes pretty close.

So, you may be thinking, if she's not worried about the quality of Gracie's daycare and she's not consumed by guilt at the thought of returning to work, what is she concerned about? Well, here's the thing. I'm afraid Gracie's blankie won't fit in her cubbyhole. When her daddy and I tour the center, we are shown by the director what will be her cubbyhole. Each child has a daycare-provided mat and blanket. I immediately ask if Gracie can bring her own blanket. She has a fluffy blue & yellow John Lennon blanket that provides her all kinds of comfort. She grabs it when her feelings are hurt and she lugs it behind her when she follows me to the kitchen for her bedtime bottle. When she's tired, she wads the thing up in a ball and uses it for a makeshift pillow. That blanket has traveled with us through four states and one very long hurricane evacuation. It has been to the doctor, church, and the grocery store with us. I cannot imagine her embarking into the wide world of daycare without her trusted blankie. The director says, "Yes, she can have her own blanket. But, it has to fit in her cubbyhole and it can't touch any of the other children's blankets." I immediately let out a sigh of relief. After we get home, I decide the best thing to do is order a second blanket so we can have one for daycare and one for home. I pay for 2-day shipping (almost a much as the cost of the blanket!), but I figure Gracie's comfort is worth it. Now, the dilemma. Will the silly blanket fit in the cubbyhole? It's not small like a receiving blanket, but it's not like it's comforter-sized either. Somewhere around Saturday, I get the bright idea to cut the thing in half and make two little blankets. My husband, after much persuading, convinces me to try it as one whole piece and then if it doesn't fit, I can cut it apart (which he is envisioning as destroying - to his credit, most of my so-called little cutting "projects" end up in disaster. I once tried to cut off and hem a pair of pants for him and he ended up with short shorts.).

So, I head to daycare this morning, full-sized blanket and baby in tow. Worried. Worried that the blanket won't fit and more importantly that my sweet daughter won't fit. What if she's not the right height, weight, size, intelligence, temperament for this daycare? Should I have asked more questions? Should I have examined the diet more closely? Will it bother the teacher that Gracie is prone to spontaneously hug everyone, adults and children included? Will it be okay that, like her mama, she's a bit of a "bull in a china shop" and tends to destroy things unintentionally? Will they understand her incessant pointing and constant chatter? Will they be able differentiate between her word grunts - will they know that "GuGu" means, "Hi, how are you? My name is Gracie." And that "GaGa" means GreatGran and "GiGi" means something else entirely. Will the other kids exclude her because at 13 months, she's a Johnny Come Lately in the daycare world?

We walk into her classroom. I set her down on the floor so I can load up her cubbyhole with spare clothes, extra pacifiers, tennis shoes, and of course, her trusted blanket (which by the way did fit). After I've finished, I turn around and Gracie is playing. Not alone in the corner playing, but playing with the other children in her class. Evidently, she just walked up to them and "GuGu"ed and they understood her perfectly. My worry eased a little as I kissed her head and walked out the door. When we called to check on her a little later, she was playing "dress-up" with the rest of her class. Apparently, she hasn't needed her blanket all day. Perhaps, she and her blanket are both going to be a perfect fit...