Where everybody knows your name

Week one of daycare is done, and it's more or less going as I expected it would. Monday morning I took him over, talked to the teacher briefly about his feeding habits ("Umm, he eats a lot. Of everything."), and left him sitting in a seat at the table and poking the little boy next to him. He seemed a little stunned, but okay. When I picked him up in the afternoon, he was fine, but very happy to see me. The teachers said he wasn't really interested in breakfast and had only gotten lunch shortly before I picked him up (around 3:30pm). Not eating -- hmm, not a good sign.

On Tuesday, Wes came with me to drop him off. Oliver obviously knew where we were and what was about to happen. He started to pout (the infamous bottom lip at work) but seemed to hold it together. Wednesday he stayed home with us as I had the morning free and Wes the afternoon. On Thursday, I took Ollie in and put him in his seat at the table, and he immediately started crying for me. I picked him back up and talked to him until his teacher was able to take him. He cried when she did, but she was talking to him as I left to help calm him down.

By Friday he was starting to do a little better. I took him in, and since the teachers were busy with other little ones, I sat and played with Ollie for a few minutes until he would leave me voluntarily. There's a duck toy on wheels with a pull string on it that he evidently loves, so I got him engaged with that. I gave him a kiss and said goodbye. He started crying as soon as I took off and crawled after me. One of his teachers scooped him up, though, and he had stopped crying by the time I got my shoes back on just outside the door to his room.

Pickup is a similar story in reverse order. When I go in, I can see him playing with a toy, another kid, or the teacher, but when I say his name and call him over, he smiles at me and then bursts into tears until I pick him up. His regular teacher, Theresa, said he spent a lot of time in his crib the first few days. She said he'd fuss to get in it, and then just stand in it and watch everything. But by Friday she said he was just getting in it to nap and was playing more on the floor. He's eating well for them again, though we're doing breakfast at home for now to make the transition at drop-off less difficult. And evidently, he's even started showing some of his personality. Everyone tries to get him to smile for them -- it seems everyone in the center knows his name and greets him when he arrives and farewells him when I'm taking him home. On Friday he was wearing a onesie and a pair of pants since it was a bit cooler. When I picked him up, he only had his onesie on, but I figured it was just easier to change him with them off. Evidently, Oliver took off his own pants and was swinging them over his head.

I continue to struggle with the heartache I feel when I leave him, countered by the fulfillment I have being back at school and at work. I'm only the millionth mother to go through this, I know, but it doesn't make it any easier. For now, I'm content that he seems like he's slowly getting used to the place. His teachers seem super nice, he's getting fed on schedule, and he's in a clean diaper when I pick him up (which has been at various times of the day). I'm hoping that if we get a spot at the university's daycare, it comes around the time he'd be scheduled to move out of the infant room at his current one (I think once he starts walking).

Oh, and we've already brought home our first souvenir from daycare: everyone in our house has a cold.