I cannot believe tomorrow is his last day.

Almost exactly 3 years ago, I realized that I was a month from going back to work, and began to panic. I had no idea how to find or pick a day care provider, no one to ask for references -- nothing. Fortunately, our local government provides a certification program, and a database of certified in-home day care providers on their website. I printed the list, highlighted the ones that looked plausible by location and a few other characteristics, and began making calls.

I eliminated a lot of options right away. Some people you just know are too nutty to take care of your heart child by talking to them on the phone. I made interview appointments with most of the rest of them, and went to meet them. A few, you could eliminate just by walking into the house. Finally, I settled on a woman who struck me as, well, just fine. She'd do. Nice enough, clean house, didn't have a basement full of toys that she clearly sent the kids into each day while she watched television, agreed with me about not having the kids watch TV all day -- I didn't love her, but she'd do, at least for the initial period of time. I asked her to hold me a spot; I'd come over the next week to sign the paperwork. She was going out of town that weekend -- I should call on about Tuesday.

The next week, and this is now the Tuesday before I go back to work on Monday, I called her. When could I come over to sign the contract? Oh, goodness -- someone else who had interviewed with her had come over during the weekend and signed a contract, and she didn't have space available now. What? She was supposed to be out of town until Tuesday! She was holding a spot for me! Well, you know, something happened and she didn't go, and she couldn't say no to a booked spot....

This happened while I was in the customer service area of Kohl's, breastfeeding after having spent the last hour trying on pants that would fit my postpartum body, and blouses that would allow me to pump at the office. It was all I could do not to just sit there and cry.

Resolute, I bought my new breastfeeding-mother-work-clothes and went home, and back to my list. No, I'd talked to EVERYONE on the list. I sighed heavily. I went back to the computer, ran the search again on the daycare provider database, and printed the results. I took Noah to the bedroom to try to get him to nap while I looked for something, SOMETHING that I'd missed.

Two new names. Two names I hadn't called. I checked. They hadn't been on the list before. I called them and made appointments for the next evening.

The first was nice, very organized -- I'd have loved her as a coworker. She was, though, I thought a little too HARD for my purposes. I wanted someone who would love and cuddle my little boy, and I just couldn't see it.

I went to the second one. My last option befor breaking into Big! Commercial! Daycare! I walked into her house, sat down -- I think on the floor with her -- and knew. We talked, she looked at Noah and cooed (but in a very professional way) about what a cutie he was. Yes, she hadn't had an opening, but there had been a mom who had reserved early in her pregnancy and there had been complications.... So sad, the thought of having gone through this far in advance, only to have something go so terribly wrong. But lo! an OPENING! She handed me a stack of papers; her contract, some information, an emergency contact sheet... I saw her hand. Her ring. I recognized it immediately: Hebrew, reading "I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine..."

"Are you Jewish?"

"No," she laughed, "but my husband gave it to me...." We talked for a moment about religion, about her church, and about her philosophy about her day care kids. No, I didn't need to worry about Noah coming home singing "Yes Jesus Loves Me."

I told her that I'd call her the next day. By the time I got home, about a short 6 blocks, I was sure. I told my husband, who was really leaving the decision to me.

The first working day of October of 2004, I trundled my little boy into clothes, his "bucket," and into the car, and took him to "Car-Car's" house. And he has gone there, except for holidays and her occasional vacations, every day that I've gone to work, ever since.

To Be Continued....