I Can’t Compete with Daycare

Darren is bored.

The Hubby and I finally have a day off together on a weekday so daycare was not necessary today.

Pretty sure Darren would beg to differ.

He love’s daycare. There is constant action, little ladies loving him up and cater to his every whim, and of course, the coolest toys ever. Sounds like a baby rap video right? All of these things are lacking in our home environment.

I never knew it until today. Ok. Lying. I knew that home and daycare were two different environments. But when your child is at daycare for eight plus hours a day five days a week, the hubby and I thought that tons of toys, little girls who weren’t sisters (any other type of girls, in my opinion, are banned until he moves out) weren’t necessary. 

How wrong were we? Daycare is stiff competition.

By six this morning Darren was taking his fist nap of the day. By seven-thirty he's awake and wily.  By nine he’s screeching to keep himself amused. Ten-thirty he’s settled down for his second nap (his choice not mine). Twenty minutes later he’s bright and bushy-eyed for the hubby who is just officially waking up for the morning.

By this time I realize it might be a long day for all of us. 

Three hours and a twenty minute outside excursion later, I have a pounding tension headache and I am more than ready for Darren to take nap number three. 

Then he starts nodding off while eating his bananas.

Insult and relief are at war within me. I know we are a low key when we are at home, but seriously?  He never falls asleep if food is present. I am relieved as I lay down with him, but spend ten minutes critically questioning my parenting priorities.

Priority #1: purchase more toys. When you have to resort to using the TV to keep a six month old amused you are definitely lacking in the toy department.

Priority #2: Have more children. I will admit that my son appreciates the little ladies at daycare and would pick them to play with over me any day. I refuse to duel with them. My solution is to provide him with build in playmates. Mama trumps all when it comes to these kinds of decisions.

Bedtime

Lately, Darren will not go to bed for nothing. Actually, the whole thing is pretty much a joke to him. Seriously, I’ve tried every trick in the book, but I swear he’s on to me. It’s like because he turned six months old he thinks he’s a big boy and can set his own bedtime. Negatory.

This all started last Friday when he I picked him up from daycare and discovered he had only had a ten minute nap that morning and had only been napping for fifteen minutes when I got there. (May I also mention he ate like a horse? 2 six ounce bottles, 2 four ounce bottles and three containers of baby food. Geez.) Needless to say, he fell asleep on the way home, woke up for a thirty minutes and then slept till six the next morning. 

Do you think I was fine with that? You betcha!

Now, I don’t know what this kid is on. He fell asleep in my arms forty-five minutes ago so I laid him in his crib. That was his cue. A four ounce bottle and endless rocking later he’s asleep on our bed.

Or so I thought.

I walked in to safely deposit his nuk where I could find it later and decided to check on him.

Imagine my surprise when smoothing back his curls the little rascal is cheesing up at me in the dark.

“Ahh,” he coos and starts furiously moving his arms and legs.

“Seriously Darren?” I roll my eyes because he’s still wearing his goofy grin.

Currently, he is lying beside me trying to steal my pen as I write. It’s an attention-getter and I am steadfast in ignoring him. There is a bunch of scribbles on my paper from where I haven’t been quick enough to move away from his frantically moving limbs.

Oh wait….you have got to be kidding me. Now that I’ve finished writing he is fast asleep. He just wanted to make sure I had something to write about to night. The little rascal.