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I got home late yesterday, after Kaylee had already been home for a while with her dad. It always makes me a little sad when I miss out on an evening of playing with the kiddo, so I appreciate the reports Rob gives me when I get home. This was last night’s conversation:

ROB: Guess what Kaylee did tonight?
ME: (kind of excited to know what new trick my genius daughter has learned) What?
ROB: She ate dog food.

Apparently, she found a stray piece of food on the kitchen floor and munched it up and swallowed it before Rob or his mom could get it out of her mouth. On the plus side, she seemed to like it. (Or maybe that’s not really a positive.)

I was kind of bothered by the dog food thing until Rob’s mom pointed out that it’s probably not that bad for her, since it’s made from vegetables. Then I realized that it’s probably healthier fare than the ramen we’d given her the day before. Um … maybe I shouldn’t be admitting these things on the Internet. What I mean to say was that we’ve been feeding Kaylee tofu and … some other healthy stuff.

The other night, I had a profound realization: I have no idea what I’m doing.

I was staring with grossed-out, worried-mom fascination at Kaylee’s left eye, which had decided to puff up and seal itself shut with ooze, and that’s when it hit me. I’m in charge of this little person, and she had a problem, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

Do you rinse the eye out with water? Call the doctor in the middle of the night, crying and screaming that your baby’s eye is about to fall out? Let the dog lick the ooze off? (He totally would do that.) Wait until morning, call in sick to work and take her to see the doctor?

Usually Kaylee keeps her problems simple – she needs a bottle, a diaper change or someone to hold her back from diving off the couch in her attempts to catch a dog. But every once in a while, she throws a little curveball, and I’m reminded that I’m really and truly clueless.

And it fills me with a little bit of terror, wondering about all the things she’ll have to talk about with her therapist when she’s older. (“Your mother did WHAT? She got poop on your head?!?!?!”) But more than that, I feel lucky to be entrusted with her life, and with her little hands, her cute little feet, her crusty eye and her snotty nose. And so far, she seems to think I’m doing ok.

But what does she know? She’s only four months old.

I’ve been feeling like a bad mom lately because Kaylee hasn’t been getting any tummy time, which I’ve read is HIGHLY IMPORTANT. So, either I needed to stop reading these things or I needed to start putting her on her tummy to play.

The problems:
1. I can’t stop reading these things. I’m a writer, and therefore a reader, and I will always read scary articles about how I’m ruining my child’s life. (For example, I recently found out that since I’ve chosen not to breastfeed, Kaylee is doomed to a life of illness and obesity. Poor kid.)
2. We have two shedding dogs and a broken vacuum cleaner. My carpet has not exactly been a place I’ve wanted Kaylee to put her face.

On Friday, Rob and I finally decided to suck it up and get a really nice vacuum cleaner, one designed especially for animal hair. I’ve never had so much fun vacuuming the floor, and I’d had no idea just how much grossness there was in our carpet.

So Kaylee finally got to play on the floor this weekend.

Of course, she kind of hates tummy time and rolls over onto her back almost immediately.

But you have to give me points for trying.

I had an eye appointment today, and the subject of Kaylee came up during the eye exam. I mentioned that my mom was watching the baby, and apparently, the doctor misunderstood what I meant. I meant that she was watching the baby today. He thought I was saying that my mom would be watching the baby every day when I go back to work. He then launched into a bit of a rant about how terrible daycare centers are, and how he can’t believe there are parents out there who subject their children to such places. I quietly listened, and neglected to mention that Kaylee will be subjected to just such a place beginning in July.

People have strong opinions when it comes to daycare, I’ve found, and it’s surprising how often they’re willing to provide those opinions, even when they run the risk of offending you.

Before Kaylee was born, several women asked about my childcare plans and then got teary-eyed when I said she’d be in daycare. If there’s one way to make a mom feel awful about a decision she’s made, it’s openly mourning the fate of her unborn baby. Here’s a typical conversation:

WOMAN: So, do you plan to quit your job when the baby’s born?
ME: No, I’m going back to work after a few weeks.
WOMAN: Oh. Do you have family in town who can watch the baby?
ME: I have family in town, but they work, too. We’re putting her in daycare.
WOMAN (tears forming in her eyes): Oh no. Oh no. How sad… Don’t you just feel terrible? Wouldn’t you rather stay home with her?
ME: … … … I have to go now.

It’s not that I don’t want to stay home with my baby – it’s just not an option financially. And although I understand that I run the risk of raising a little miscreant who bites people and says the F-word all the time because she learned bad habits at daycare, I also think that maybe, just maybe, it’s possible to raise a decent human being while both parents work.

I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, though. If, in 20 years, I find myself bailing Kaylee out of jail for the tenth time, I will gladly go back to my eye doctor so he can say, “I told you so.”