Daycare Smackdown.

I just got into work after concluding my morning routine, a 3-4 hour set of tasks so varied and hurried that I regularly refer to it as The Spin Cycle. Given variations like the inability to find clean clothes (for me or Walker) or unexpected poop explosions or barfing (um, Walker), most mornings go like this:

4:30-5:30 Walker wakes up. Jon wakes me up by shaking me and saying "You're up." Annoying.

5:30-6:00 Nice quiet time in bed, feeding Walker a bottle and watching Sammy rub herself against the bed like a grizzly bear. See if I can simultaneously hold Walker and his bottle and kick Sammy.

6:00-6:25 Up and out of bed. Walker hangs out in his bouncy seat flipping little plastic letters, wooden teddy bears, and chewing on his favorite toy ... a bumble bee liberated from his playmat that squeaks and jingles and looks vaguely like the guy in the bumble bee costume on The Simpsons. It's a European playmat, so the connection may be more direct than I even know. Wash bottles. Give Walker a shot at solid food. Clean up after solid food experiment. Add baby spoon and cup to enormous precarious tower of dirty dishes in sink. Block it out. Just block it out.

6:25-6:30 Shower

6:30-7:00 Get out of shower and get dressed. Wonder on a daily basis when I should cease being naked in front of my own son. Make bed. Pack my bag. Get bottles and whatever other assorted items needed for daycare into another bag. Pick out coat/hat/glove get-up for the day. Clean up co-sleeper. Put Walker's books away.

7:00 Bring everything out to the car. Start car. Turn heater on full blast. Turn defroster on.

7:00-7:15 Wipe Walker's face, hands, and feet as a little pick-me-up for the day. Change his diaper. Put clothes and shoes on for daycare. Apply one of a wide assortment of lotions to his face to combat the dry wind of the frozen tundra.

7:15-7:30 Put Walker in his carseat. Place assorted gates and barriers around the house to defend the house from the dogs. Have stern talk with dogs about not destroying the house. Accept that the vacant look in their eyes means exactly what I think it means and resign myself to sweeping up wood chips when I get home. God damn dogs.

7:30 Teeter outside with carseat in one hand and other arm stuck out for balance. Watch for falling snow and ice. Try to remember where the rock wall is ... or where the steps are for that matter. Wait for the day I fall on my ass just trying to get from the front door to my car. Think optimistically about February almost being over.

7:30-7:50 Take one of the most beautiful drives of my whole day. Past fields, cows, big red barns, horses with their blanket coats on eating their breakfast, babbling brooks, a little general store, a coffee shop, over a little bridge, past The Round Church. Listen to Morning Edition. Daydream.

7:50-8:00ish Get to daycare. Take Walker and bag o' stuff inside. Must take boots off before entering baby room ... step in piles of melted snow in stocking feet. Ugh. Most aggravating part of my morning. Lug carseat and bag-a-bottles inside. Take Walker out of his seat, get him set up with a book and some toys. Fill out his sheet (what time he woke up, when he last ate, when his diaper was changed last, how he's doing in general). Put bottles in fridge. Check his mailbox for daycare bills, newsletters, book orders, or -my favorite- art projects. Hang out on the floor chatting with him, the other babies, and the women who take care of all of them. Kiss him good-bye, tell him to have a great day and that I love him and that his Dad will pick him up later. Wave bye again at the door. Put boots back on. Peer back in window to see what he's doing. Almost without fail, he is sitting there people watching.

8:00ish-8:30ish Get on 89 N, head to South Burlington, stop at Starbucks, get extra hot latte, scarf as many free samples of pastries as I can without drawing too much attention to myself. Drive to work. Start computer. Put stuff down. Realize how pathetic it is that being at work is actually relaxing.

So this morning Walker was in a pretty good mood after a brief nap on the way to daycare. I sat down with him, we looked at the snowflake mobile in the middle of the room (he loves mobiles). I was talking to one of the women about how beautiful it looks outside today (blue skies, snow clinging to every branch, every piece of barbed wire, everything). In the middle of this, one of the older boys started approaching Walker with a pointed finger. I don't know if he was fixin' to gouge Walker's eye out or what. I tried not to let it bother me. I know this stuff happens all the time, when I'm not there to intervene. He's told to leave Walker alone. 2 seconds later, the same kid toddles over and dope slaps (open hand, starfish-style, SMACK) another kid right in the forehead. The smacker got a stern talking to, the smackee didn't really care. The smacker then looked at Walker again, really eyeing him. Right then, Walker eyed him back. He jingled his little plastic trumpet with plastic doo-dads on it, stuck it in his mouth, and they continued to stare at each other. The smacker inched closer. Just then, right then, right as I was sitting there, Walker threw his plastic trumpet down and stared at the smacker.

I enthusiastically remarked, "Yeah! It's on!"

It's mornings like this that make me question my ability to set a good example for the boy.