50 "First Dates"

Since my real dating days are (thankfully) behind me, I've had to find a substitute for the awkward, disappointing, and sometimes hilarious process of meeting people for the first time in the hope that they will someday become an important part of my future. My substitute has recently come in the form of looking for our future daycare.

Thinking of myself as a kind of laid-back person, I went into this process thinking, "I just need to find someplace close to work or home that will keep my baby alive all day." There was no thought about philosophy, curriculum, or methods as I set up "first dates" with these centers.

The first center I went to made me cry. Not then, but later on, at home, to a very patient Chris. There was a baby lying on the floor, crying sadly, and no one went over to even look at him. The entire time I was there, my attention was divided between the crying baby and whatever the center director was saying. I thought, "Dude, if you want to impress me into bringing my baby here, go pick up that one." But no one did. And then I imagined them not picking up my crying baby for that amount of time. DATE OVER.

I went to a center with such rigid standards about feeding, diapering, days off, and payments, that I left already feeling like a bad mother. I had a real first date with a guy who was so meticulous about his eating habits that I ended up feeling like I was ruining myself, nutritionally, when I used a little soy sauce on my sushi. Same feeling, same result--I will never see either of them again.

But yesterday was the worst daycare first date of my life. I was hesitant to even go on this one because it was located in a church, and we've decided that we want to raise our baby with a mind that is open to all cultures and religions. A religious daycare, especially one that is in a church that neither Chris nor I were raised in, is not what we'd like to give our little sponge-minded Sophie.

In any case, I went into the daycare date with an open mind. Like the time I met the painfully-skinny, socially-inept future lawyer at a wine bar, my expectations were low, but it seemed like a good thing to do at the time. The director showed me around the standard infant room, then asked if I had questions. I always ask the same three questions: Is there availability for March, can I come breastfeed on my lunch hour, and will you use the cloth diapers I provide?

The director literally scrunched up her nose. "You know, the short answer to the cloth diaper question is 'no'. And what with water being a resource, too...well, why would you want to use cloth diapers?" Not to be made ashamed of my crunchy, granola center, I looked straight at her and said, "Well, I could go into a long thing here, but disposable diapers make up a considerable percentage of all waste in our landfills." She still shook her head. "We just can't. It would require too many extra steps."

I pressed on. "You know, we're going with a cloth-diaper service. All you'd have to do is put the dirty diapers into a plastic bag and then hand it to us at the end of the day." She stood her ground, still refusing to even try it. One of the glassy-eyed teachers spoke up, oh-so-helpfully. "We had a family who sent in these...biodegradable diapers. I think they used cloth at home." Her disdain was almost palpable.

"Right," I said, with the same feeling in my gut as when the skinny future lawyer began to tell me about how he wanted his future children to have a French au pair. The date was over in my head before the check arrived.

Then the director led me to the toddler room, where all the kids were sleeping. The teacher, a disheveled lunatic, was crouched down over a stack of construction paper leaves and was making a big deal out of writing each of the toddlers names on them. The director pointed into a room where the toddlers were taking their naps. "They all sleep together, but when they're awake, we keep them separated by personality."

"Oh, really?" I said. "I took a lot of personality psychology in college--how do you determine the personality of 18-33 month olds? Like, Type A and B? Or extroverts and introverts?"

The teacher peered up at me. "No, like the ones who pick on other kids and the ones who act like little victims. I mean, they're all young in here right now, so they're all annoying. And all of them are Type A because they're mostly only children. You know how only children are." The center director nodded. "Yes, they don't have to share anything, and they get too much attention."

I wanted to remind them that when Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me," he didn't follow that up with, "except for all those bratty, only-child toddlers." But I didn't. Just like I didn't tell that malnourished future-lawyer that I thought telling me how much money he was someday going to make was arrogant, and a huge turn-off. I just got the hell out of there and never went back.

It hasn't been all-bad, though. Last week, I think we found The One. I had the same feeling walking into it as when I met Chris for the first time. It just felt right. It felt like somewhere I could leave my baby and not cry (after the first few weeks, of course). The clientele and staff was diverse. They have families come in to do presentations of various cultural cooking and customs. They love cloth diapers and have a private room for moms to breastfeed on their lunch hours. It is licensed. Their teachers have education, and look happy to be there.

I'm still going on these daycare first dates, mostly because I want to say I've seen them all. In my dating days, I saw it all, too--the rich guy who didn't respect women, the short, shy engineering student, the British mechanic, the hippie teacher. But when it came to my future, I picked the one who felt the most natural, the most comfortable, and it was the best decision I could have ever made. And when it comes to picking a place for our little baby Sophie, I'll do the same. My gut says that it will be right, and it hasn't led me astray yet.
xo