Overprotective? Who, me?

First off, thanks to all of you who comment, e-mail, call, and/or write messages saying how much you love the blog. There was a note in my inbox from a colleague this morning who in the midst of other minutiae of work-related info told me how much she loved reading my blog. This from a person I wasn't sure read the blog. I (and Megan too when she sees it) appreciate all of your thoughts and support since the inception of this blog and while I don't respond to all of the comments like I should, rest assured I talk about them, laugh with them, and revel in them with Jillian. So thanks.

That being said I must address the topic of my posting today. I suffered through my first bout of parent anxiety the other day and wasn't sure how I felt. When I went to daycare I heard my child being 'reprimanded' for the first time in my presence and it left me with a gnarled feeling in my belly.

I'll set the scene ... however I would be remiss not to point out that this first person narrative is probably neither objective nor entirely accurate as to all of the details. Now having settled that, we may continue:

At the daycare there's an alcove in front of the door to her room where you have to remove your shoes before entering. (Secretly I wish that one day I'll open the door after taking off my shoes and it will reveal a huge ball pit I can jump in ... but I'm digressing.) While removing said shoes I hear my beautiful daughter wailing. Then as I'm about to bolt through the door, her white knight, coming to pick her up and save her, I hear the following: "Megan, ALL DONE. If you don't stop I'm going to put you back in your bed." (In the interest of full disclosure, the phrase 'all done' is the phrase they use with the babies to reinforce behaviors they don't want to continue)

Some of you at this point are rolling your eyes and saying stupid newbie dad. Others of you might be ready to drive here and hold my precious little Megan until she goes off to kindergarten (if so, then you are probably my mom or Jill's mom). But in all seriousness I was in shock. I had to compose myself to enter the room and see what was going on but not act all "WTF?" And lo and behold Megan was laying on a play mat staring up at whatever bright, goofy detritus was attached to it. And the teacher was two feet away from her and everything looked fine.

But all the way home I still felt perturbed. And I'm not sure why. I don't blame the teacher because there were several days during the course of this summer where I thought much worse. And there were times when I had to walk away from her for a few minutes while she cried and I composed myself. So I don't harbor any ill will towards the teacher, in fact, I think she's great. But I think it was the simple fact that someone else was 'parenting' my child. I realize this will happen repeatedly in life, but it was hard. The lens had been turned and instead of being the storyteller, I was the voyeur. 

That is a humbling feeling. I am smart enough to know that I am incapable of teaching my daughter everything she needs to know, and just dumb enough to think if I just read enough books I should be the 'curriculum director' for her growth. And yet for all the turmoil raging in my stomach, she continues to laugh and smile, nonplussed at the perils of life, and it makes me breathe a small sigh of relief. For a little while. Until she is all gone for another day without me.