Worn Out

The kid started day care last week. Its a long story, but his nanny of three years was no longer able to watch him.

The kid HATES day care. And because he is my child, he is stubborn as hell. He cries all day and though food is provided, he eats nothing. He tells his dad and me that daycare is "not a happy place for me."

I got a book about a raccoon that goes to school, I give him a lipstick kiss on his hand so he can have a kiss from mom (until he washes his hands).  We had to start sending in different food just so that he would eat something.

My heart hurts for him. He's never had a problem that I couldn't fix for him. He has to go to daycare, and if we weren't fighting this fight now, we'd be doing it next year when he goes to Pre-K. I know he has to learn to get used to it. But I feel like he's still my baby and he's sad and I just want to make it all go away for him.

Now that I have to add pick-up and drop-off to my daily routine, everything feels more difficult. I have to get up earlier because I have to be dressed and ready earlier. I have to wake the Kid up earlier so I can get him dressed and fed before daycare, (or as he calls it, Zebra School). After daycare, its hard to go to the store or run errands because he is so tired from crying and not eating, and he is so pitiful that its hard to turn him down when he asks in a plaintive voice if he can "just go home and rest."

I hate stuff like this. Last week was my divorce-aversary, the one year mark of my divorce being final. I haven't lived with my ex in nearly two years. In the last two years, there have been plenty of times when I would loved to have had an extra adult around the house, and extra set of eyes and ears, someone tall to reach the smoke detectors, someone with enough knowledge to deal with car repair, someone to help with the bills and double-check my math on tips and taxes.

But there isn't anyone. So over and over and over and over I've had little breakdowns. Little pity parties where I mope and get mad and maybe even cry about how hard my life is and how unfair the situation is. And then every time, every damn time, I reach deep down and find strength I didn't realize I had and I get the shit done. I prepare and file my own taxes, I remember the dosage for children's tylenol, I make sure there are vegetables and cat food in the house. I keep shit running. And I'll call it a moral victory. "I didn't think I could do it and I thought I needed a man, but the strength was inside me all along! I can do anything!"

I'm so tired.

I know that the Kid and I will get used to day care. I know that it will become, if not easier, at least routine. But I'm so tired of juggling it all. I'm working without a net. If I forget anything, if I slack on anything, its all on me.