Today marked Dexter's return to nursery after a rather luxurious three weeks off. The photo captures him at 6.30am, and in fact, it was only a combination of the lamp going on and the slightly accusatory camera flash that woke him up. At the risk of jinxing it/sounding like 'smug mum' (not how I want my blog to appear at all), my boy likes his sleep. Left to his own devices, he'd probably snooze until 8.30am, so he gets Monday morning blues just like the rest of us.
The fact that I have to commit the ultimate mummy sin of waking a sleeping baby is a small part of the inevitable guilt I sometimes feel about the fact that Dexter is in full-time childcare, nine hours a day, five days a week. However, along with avoiding 'smug mum' syndrome, I also want to avoid being self-pitying and miserable. Besides, once he has been woken up, he has his morning milk, clean bum and is shuttled off in my car (where he has another snooze), to be dropped off at the mythical-sounding Huffle Nursery. Here, he is immediately fed his breakfast and placed straight back into bed for a gentle two hour nap. Frankly, if you were to: replace the milk with a grande chai latte; (leave me to my own devices regarding toilet-action); chauffeur me to work; give me a two course breakfast; and then let me go back to bed for a kip - the whole process taking place whilst I'm still in my pyjamas - I wouldn't feel too hard done by of a morning.
Besides, as Dexter has never yet cried when I drop him off, has only recently started giving me a vague flicker of recognition when I collect him and, most importantly, gets the majority of his pooping done in the day, I feel that he is at heart, quite happy with the arrangement.
A seemingly innocuous 'photo of the day' seems to have prompted a number of issues I'd like to witter about, but I think I'll save sleep, childcare and being a working mummy for another day.