There Goes My Baby

For the last six months my mother-in-law has been watching Gertrude four days a week. She doesn’t always keep her for a full work day and, taking Fridays off has taken a toll on my ability to bill the amount I need in order to feed the family. So we had been talking about getting a neighborhood sitter for one day a week, or more.

Gert loves spending the week with Grandma. And it’s been great for both of them to get the one on one time and develop a truly wonderful relationship. But, Gert is also isolated with Grandma. There are no other kids to play with and she desperately wants friends and needs to socialize with other kids.

Last week we finally made our decision as to which sitter we liked, Gertrude being the final deciding factor because she liked the other kids. And today is her first day.

She was excited. For days she’s been talking a blue streak about how “kids will be my friends” and “they play with me but not hit” (a serious problem with the kids at her old sitter’s) or, “Diana take care of me!” The idea of having more kids to play with, new friends, was just exciting her beyond what a two-year-old should comprehend.

Mom and Dad, however, are a nervous wreck. We both feel like we’re sending our baby off to college . . . or worse. Last night we both went to bed feeling sick to our stomachs, nervous and excited at the same time. We stayed up until midnight talking about how great this little baby is, how funny she is, and how we feel bad for leaving her with new people. We’d done our interviews and research. We were comfortable with the sitter. Would Gert be comfortable? Would the sitter be able to understand her? What if she got scared?

All last night she had put up a great performance for us. As if she needed to prove how cute, smart and funny she really is.

“Gertrude, how old are you?”

“I two!”

“Yes. Finally! Okay, how old is Matilda.”

“Don’ know. Sissy, how old?”

“I’m eight.”

“Sissy eight! How old are you daddy?”

“I’m thirty.”

“No. Not thirty. You’re twenty dollars!”

“Um. Okay.”

“Mommy, how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-eight.”

”No, Mommy! You’re twenty dollars!”

So, we are to assume, that mommy and I are worth precisely forty dollars to our daughter. It’s good to know.

This morning was filled with dread and excitement. Excitement for Gertrude. Dread for us. What were we sending our baby into?

I kept kissing her and hugging her all morning. I irritated the crap out of her. She bounced off the walls. Mom looked at her with a wistful, painful look on her face.

Matilda distracted me and we sat down to figure out the secret code in the latest Lemony Snicket book. Mom and Gert went to the door and we said our goodbyes.

“I be right back,” she said, just like any other morning. “I go play with kids.”

And with that, my tough and eager little girl was gone. Off to the unknown.

I don’t know for sure, but I suspect Mommy cried. She said Gert gave her an extra-long hug when she left.

The sitter says that she did well this morning. She watched the kids play for a bit before she got into the fray. Friday is movie day and they watched Ice Age. Gertrude exclaimed that she had seen it and got excited. Which, of course, shocked me. Her sister and I watched the last half hour this summer while Gert was a part-time observer. Her memory amazes me.

I’m stunned how a child can teach me something new every day. I want to believe that because I’m older and more bitter that I am wise. But Gertrude’s happy acceptance of change, her excitement over a new adventure, has taught me that the unknown isn’t always scary. Her vigorous zest for life has shown me that sometimes you just have to hold your nose and jump on in the water.

Of course, she also taught me how to dance like a penguin.

What a wise little girl.

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