I have 32 minutes before I get to pick up my kiddo from daycare. Thanks to a meeting getting out way earlier than I anticipated, my afternoon has been wide open, with three extra hours to fill.
I could have worked on my sermon, with that Sunday deadline looming once again.
I could have done some much needed yard work, as the weeds have once again taken over.
I could have cleaned/sanitized the house, something that needs to be done after all three of us have been sick for the past week.
Instead I laughed in the face of productivity and read a book. Like, a fictional book. Something I've struggled to do in the past 10 months partly because my baby brain doesn't allow me to retain anything I've read, and partly because I just haven't had much "me time" to make space for fun reading.
And you know what? It was delightful! As I sat down to read, my mind started to make the calculations of how much we're paying the daycare per hour and I felt a little guilty for forking over that money so that I could enjoy a good book. Shouldn't I have spent those three hours doing something productive? Something work related? Nope. Turns out, what I needed was time to decompress. Time to do something I love. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my kiddo and there's part of me that just wants to spend all of my time with her. With each chapter I finished this afternoon, I'd glance at the clock, excitedly anticipating 5 o'clock when I'd get to pick her up. But I also need to re-energize once in awhile so that I can be more fully present to her and to my church.
The decision to put her in daycare was a very emotional and difficult one. I had hoped to continue what was working before with her spending one day a week with her grandpa, which was awesome. I feel very blessed to have family close by who can care for her. And it isn't so much that I'm anti-daycare. I just sort of anticipated raising my kids how I was raised, because that's what worked for us. My mom worked from home and sent us to grandparents when she needed to get some real work done. But as it turns out, I need more than just one day and it is really hard trying to work and watch a baby who decided to start walking/opening cabinets/wanting to play with the toilet seat way earlier than I told her she could. I've come to discover, I'm just not that good at multitasking, and it started to feel unfair to both my kiddo and my church because my attention was constantly divided.
So, to daycare she went. And while she had gotten sick both weeks thanks to the petri dish of germs she now plays in twice a week, I have not regretted the decision. I can now block out time to accomplish all of the tasks that I need to get done. I can schedule meetings with churchy people and not worry about the baby trying to pull banners off the wall of the sanctuary. And I can read a book when I have some unexpected free time, only feeling the slightest twinge of guilt.
Would you look at the time? Gotta go pick up my kiddo and savor an evening with her.
