I had a meltdown this afternoon. It’s true.
(That I would have a slightly irrational meltdown should come as a shock to absolutely no one.)
You see, I am hormonal. This PCOS bullshish is getting the best of me. As such? I am tired. And tear-y. Often.
Like today.
Before I tell this story, let me say that I lovelovelovelovelove from the bottom of my soul love Joshua’s daycare and the women (and man) who work there.
Love.
I could not go to work every day without them. They love my child like I love my child. And that’s just not something that’s easily found when it comes to daycares. When I was in the worst of PPD and felt unable to breathe when I thought of being separated from Joshua, the fact that he was with them gave me peace like you would not understand unless you’ve been there.
Got that? Love them.
His teacher is awesome. She’s so awesome, in fact, that she makes sure we always have gifts for the holidays. A picture or a bookmark or a frame. Something. And a lot of times she spends her own money to do these things.
On Monday, she asked for one of Joshua’s outgrown shoes. I thought “Oh, neat! But she’s going to have trouble tracing this shoe. The bottom is kind of weird. And it’s not really shaped like a shoe.” (The shoe is…er…was an Umi Puggle if you were curious.)
But I was FLYING out the door on Tuesday morning, so I didn’t give it much thought. I grabbed the shoe, threw everything into the car and out the door I went.
I handed it over when I dropped him off on and she said thanks and I went about my days.
And then I picked him up today.
When I was looking for his jacket, I saw it. On the shelf above the highchairs. Out of the reach of the children.
His shoe.
His shoe which is now gold instead of red and blue.
Gold.
As in, a mock-bronzed baby shoe.
As in, HIS FIRST SHOE IS GOLD.
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I kept trying to find his jacket, but my eyes kept wandering up to those shoes on that shelf. His shoe. In the middle of the other shoes. And I couldn’t concentrate. I felt the tears welling up in my throat and I know his afternoon teacher thinks I’m a whackadoo because I couldn’t stop staring at that shoe.
I am heartbroken over this. Absolutely, completely heartbroken. And I have cried no less than three times while I have written this.
The practical side of me looked forward to the thought of maybe having another boy one day and he’d get to wear those shoes.
But the mother in me is heartbroken at this treasure of my son’s early life which has been…which is…not.
One shoe out of every pair of shoes my child wore in his first year of life have been ruined.
But these shoes? These shoes were different. When he outgrew them, I made sure to put them up, out of the dog’s reach. I made sure she couldn’t get to them. I wasn’t careless with them.
I remember him wearing these shoes before he learned to walk. And then he started to toddle around in these shoes.
These shoes are some of the last reminders of his first year.
The year that I can’t get back. Will never get back.
The year that was stolen from me by PPD.
They are one of my few concrete memories of the last of his baby days. The days which were some of my worst.
I loved those shoes.
His first shoes.
And now?
There is only one shoe.
I talked with the daycare owner and she feels terrible. She offered to buy a new pair of shoes, but a new pair of shoes wouldn’t be THOSE shoes.
There is no replacing these shoes.
There is no going back.
His little life is going so fast and I am losing it, piece by piece.
Oh, mama. Now I’m crying, too! You are not irrational…or maybe you are, but it’s an irrational that I understand completely, and I’m sure all other mamas do, too.
I know you love them, and I honestly think they just forgot/overlooked explaining this further. I want to give them the benefit of the doubt, but I also want to scream at them a little? And I know them and they really are wonderful people. But…just…NOOOO!
I’ve spent a lot of time grasping at memories. I have old pacifiers and blankies and every single piece of clothing they’ve ever worn stashed in the attic (besides the outfit that burned up in the daycare fire). My mind slips quite often, but tangible objects make me feel like I can keep those moments somehow.
I am a dork with nothing uplifting to say, except to say that I get this. I totally get this, and I am so sad for you. Sometimes there is just nothing that will make it better, and that sucks. You have every right to be upset. Love you.
I completely know 1000000% that this was done without thinking there’d be a problem. I know that she had nothing but the absolute best of intentions in doing this. I know.
But it still hurts my heart.
It’s like you said. It’s grasping at memories. When I held those shoes, or caught a glimpse of them while changing his diaper, I remembered, just for a second, what it was like when he was that small.
::sigh::
Now this is the Momma bear coming out…
Why the fuck didn’t she ask you?
Seriously.
I think…I think she thought it wouldn’t be something that we’d think about if we were bringing in an “outgrown” shoe. But that’s all the note said. “Bring in an outgrown shoe on Monday.”
I wish I’d asked her what she was planning to do with it.
If you have another boy, you’ll want HIM to have his “own” unique pair of first shoes. So it will be ok. {{{hugs}}} AND, if you bronze the opposite shoe to make a complete “pair” of bronzed shoes that your children wore, I think that would be pretty awesome to look at too. 🙂
Oh, he would have his own “first” shoes, but it’d be nice to have had these as a back-up.
And the owner suggested painting the other one, but then what am I going to do with two gold, spray-painted shoes? It’s not the sort of thing I’d put on my mantle for ever and ever.
Oh honey, now you have me in tears!! I know that she had the best of intentions with this project. But as a former daycare teacher myself? I ALWAYS let the parents know what the object would have been used for and if there was a chance the item would be “ruined” (like in this case).
I completely understnad where you’re coming from on this one. I hold onto my kids’ things just to hold onto a memory. It’s a tangible item that can so easily bring us right back to that moment. I’m so so very sorry for this! ((Hugs)) to you mama!
I know it was with the absolute best of intentions. This teacher has NOTHING but the best. Nothing.
But it still makes me sad.
Oh, I’m heartbroken for you. At first when I read about the gold I thought that was a great thing, because it seems like such a traditional thing to do to keep one of his first shoes. But I can totally understand why you had a meltdown. I’m so sorry 🙁
I know it’s an old tradition to bronze baby shoes, but these aren’t the cute little walking shoes that people used to bronze.
I wanted to keep them as they were 🙁
Oh love.
I’m weeping with you.
I know they did this as a gift but didn’t realize they were taking a memory.
I have to prep myself before packing away the sizes my daughter is in and has outgrown because the anxiety is overwhelming.
I’m so sorry.
Ah, yes!
“I know they did this as a gift but didn’t realize they were taking a memory.”
THIS IS IT. This is what breaks my heart about this.
MamaRobinJ said pretty much exactly what I was thinking. I’m so sorry this happened, especially the way it happened.
Thanks. I’m sorry, too. But what can I do, you know?
Oh mama…I am so sorry. I know that my mom had my first pair bronzed if it is any consolation. They sit with all of my stuff that she saved from my baby years and they will be used for a picture project I am working on this summer. But, I get it. Why didn’t she ask? Or tell you what she was doing with them? Can you get it back? Or have her do the other?
I think it’d be different if these were the cute little walking shoes from when we were little. Or if people even still bronzed shoes. (Do people still do this??)
And no, I don’t think it’d do me any good to get it back. The damage is done. And doing the other to match would just hurt me more.
Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!! I mean, that’s a neat idea for a mother’s day gift, but if you’re going to do something like that, you’d think the DCP would have given a heads up as to why she needed a shoe! I’m sure you aren’t the only one who is planning on passing shoes on to younger siblings.
I didn’t think I’d be so attached to Aric’s first year clothes, but as I was going through them to pass them on to a friend, there were some outfits that I could not let go of. I don’t really remember the first 6 months of his life, and his clothes are all I have to hold on to from that time. I would be DEVASTATED if something happened to those outfits.
You’re not alone in your feelings. I’m so sorry you had to go through this!
It’s totally neat, but it ruins the memory. I don’t even think she thought for one second that there’d be a problem with it.
I knew I’d be attached to his things. There is almost NOTHING from my childhood. There is ONE dress that I have. From those early days? Nothing. And I wish I had those things sometimes, so that part of me was keeping these things.
I’m devastated. Completely.
Oh I’m so sad for you. 🙁 So so sad. And, GOLD? *sigh* You could send the other one and have it really bronzed. Or send the gold one to have bronzed. We used to do that through our store and somebody got a Nike Air Jordan shoe bronzed. *shrugs* I’m so sorry 🙁
I know that it’s supposed to look bronzed. But 1) bronze baby shoes? Not my thing. 2) Not my thing.
this hurts my heart. big time.
i was not prepared to be connected to Eddie’s things. But sometimes I sit in his nursery and cry because the little things are not…his anymore. they are his, but they are memories.
and she spray painted a memory.
I would have had an ugly cry.
I am sorry, momma.
I did have an ugly cry. Several of them, in fact.
Oh, honey – my heart breaks for you. When you said “outgrown” baby shoes, I had a feeling that I knew precisely where this story was going . . .
I can say “it’s just a shoe,” and I’m sure you know that – but I know it had meaning & now it’s a chotsky. *hug*
Exactly. It’s just a tchotchke.
I read this and wasn’t sure if I should cry or be angry.
I would have been simultaneously devestated and furious. While the intent was good, I can’t imagine anyone just permanently changing something without a head’s up. It would have never crossed my mind that a daycare would do that to a shoe {unless it was 1985}. I would have totally thought they were tracing it {or at worst using it as a stamp} for some sort of memory type Mother’s Day gift.
I’m sad for you. We almost threw away Samuel’s first pair of Robeez the other day because he ripped them, but I stopped before I did it. I just couldn’t do it. I am one of the least sentimental people on this Earth, and I burst into tears at the idea of throwing them away. They are a little overpriced reminder of how small he was…of his first steps…of the first time down the slide. I just couldn’t do it.
So I get it. This may have less to do with PPD and more to do with just being a mama trying to capture those fleeting moments as our boys grow up. Those moments where they still wanted to cuddle and needed our help to play cars or eat. {Oh, and PS: Samuel’s baby book? Half filled out. Maybe.}
Now I’m all teary eyed.