Once you become a parent, I think your list of regrets in life multiplies exponentially. Every day, it seems, there are choices to be made, and you never know if you're doing the right thing. You make what you think is the best decision at the time. But lots of times, you only get one shot--you can't go back and fix what you did, if it turns out you did the wrong thing after all.
When we first moved to Texas, Jordan was starting first grade and Andrew was still in preschool. He was four years old, so he needed just one more year of day care before he started kindergarten. I found a center close to our house, checked it out, and made arrangements for Andrew to start spending his days there.
We'd had terrific child care in Columbia, Missouri--it was university-sponsored, led by teachers with college degrees and staffed by students studying to be teachers. I knew it wasn't likely we'd find anything we loved as much as our previous day care center after we moved. So when I started having some misgivings about the place I'd chosen, I tried to write them off to an unfair comparison. I never had any concerns about Andrew being unsafe or in danger, but he obviously wasn't happy. He's always been a shy kid, so I told myself that of course the transition to an unfamiliar place would be difficult. He'd adjust.
But when his feelings about day care didn't improve, I told myself he only had to be at this center for a short while. Less than a year. I'd just started a brand new job at my university and I was nervous about proving myself. I was trying to earn tenure. Looking for a new day care would have taken me away from work during the day. I didn't want to make it look as if I couldn't balance being a mother and a professor just when I was at the start of a new career. I'd worked so hard to get where I was. I tried to focus on the big picture and keep in mind that I was supporting my family. That without my job, we'd all be much more unhappy than Andrew seemed to be.
When the academic year ended in May, I took Andrew out of day care as soon as I could and spent that whole summer at home with him and Jordan. I hoped some time (and a super fun summer with Mom) would just erase that whole awful year from his memory. While I don't think he suffered any long-term damage, he still says "I hated that place" every time we drive by it. Clearly, he has not forgotten that experience.
If I could go back and make a different decision for him now, I would. Even if it meant ending up at a different university, or in a different career altogether. I had other options. I didn't take them. And I really wish I had.
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