Anyone who read this post that I wrote for iVillage will know that I had more than a few reservations about sending Sausage to nursery. She turned three back in August and Husband and I (but mostly I, to be fair) made the decision to send Sausage to our local children’s centre, three mornings a week. She’s only there for nine hours a week and I work fifteen hours which fit around her sessions.
We’d been very lucky up until that point, Husband making enough money and me chipping in with the odd bit of freelance work for me to stay at home with Sausage, but once she started going to nursery it seemed pointless for me to sit at home twiddling my thumbs while she was out of the house. Fortunately for me, my old boss was looking to take someone on to do the job that I had done before I’d had Sausage. Kismet, some might say?
Anyway, the point is, Sausage has been going to nursery for nine weeks now and just last night, Husband and I were having a conversation about how much she’s changed in those nine weeks. She’s still the Sausage we know and love, but just somehow bigger in every way! She’s even more talkative (if that’s humanly possible…), more outgoing, more confident on her feet, she’s just generally even more full of life than before. It’s so heartwarming to see, I love nothing more than getting home from work and hearing her telling me about her day.
We’ve had some upsets, like in the first fortnight when Husband went to pick her up and she burst into tears upon seeing him, apparently so relieved to know that we hadn’t abandoned her! Just this week, Husband had to sign the accident book after Sausage fell off of a Space Hopper and grazed her head, and while I could be indignant and say that she’s never had a grazed head under our care, part of me is pleased that she’s getting involved in activities where she can graze her head. Husband and I (again, probably more I) can be a little guilty of wrapping her in the proverbial cotton wool and always being there to catch them actually isn’t necessarily always a good thing. Sometimes they need to learn what it feels like to fall.
I can’t deny that I ask her every day if she wants to go to nursery, some half a percent of me hoping that one day she’ll say “No, Mummy, actually I don’t” and then I can pull her out, give up work and go back to the cosy and sometimes insular life that we had before but the rest of me, the majority of me, is thrilled that we were able to make such a huge lifestyle change all at once and have it go so well. Just goes to show, as well as the already endless list of amazing qualities that I can attribute to my daughter, resilience and adaptability are two more things she has under her belt.*
(*more so than her Mummy. I walk to the bus stop feeling like I’m going to cry after dropping her off each day, but for her sake, I suck it up and act like a grown up. Just about.)