• Maxine Knight

Surviving the first day of nursery!

So here I sit, in a random cafe holding back tears.


Because I have to leave my little girl with complete strangers.

It sounds a little overdramatic, but essentially that is what I have done. It is my 1 year old's first half day at nursery. There had been 3 unsuccessful settling in sessions prior to this, so I knew today would test my endurance skills to Guinness Book of Records levels.

I'm literally next door in a cafe, my mind envisioning her on bended knees by the nursery room door, with her little arms reaching out screaming, "WHHHHHHHHHHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME MOTHER WHHHHHHHY?!?!?!" Of course, I am being overdramatic again because she can't talk yet...but if she could...

I have lots to do, and even created a list the night before of all the things I would get done whilst I had both my hands to myself. I'd do all these things whilst delicately sipping on my coffee in the knowledge that I would be able to finish it before it got cold...actually I'd be able to finish it full stop.

But instead, I'm sat in the corner with only two items on my arm length list checked off, and a trembling bottom lip. I'm sat here hoping that the lady that works here doesn't ask if I'm OK, because that will be the catalyst that makes my face explode all over her, and I'm pretty sure being covered in my nasal fluid and tears wasn't on her agenda today.

I decide to contact "The Squad" for reassurance.

What's that you say? Who are The Squad?

They are a group of mums who I met on the long journey through motherhood, and above all else, a great support system. We rant to each other, support each other, laugh and cry with each other. The beauty about these women is, although we met through our children, our friendships are not based solely on the fact that our children are friends. Therefore, we have baby free mums nights... and get drunk with each other.

Every mum needs a "squad", and because none of them have slept since they were pregnant, at least one of them is always up regardless of the time.


I Facebook my garbled message about the session and immediately see the 3 wobbly dots. Someone that should be at work is responding. They're all responding. The much needed responses come, and gives me the encouragement to take me through to the final hour. I'm trying not to look at the clock.

I should be blinking enjoying this time!!! Now I'm mad!

Why the hell do I have to give my baby away to nursery because of work?! My crappy wage means that I am literally paying to not spend time with her and I want to be with her! Why can I not enjoy the end of maternity instead of worrying about having to look for the sparse high paid part-time work available?

However, I have a plan.

It's going to take a shed load of tenacity, and my motivation

... my little chicken.

4:15pm is my target collection time; it's 3:55pm. Close enough.

When I arrive she doesn't realise I'm there and is sat, not quite content, but calmer than I had envisioned. But then she looks up at me. "WHHHHHHHHHHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME MOTHER WHHHHHHHY?" Okay she didn't say that, she cried, but if she could...

She doesn't talk to me for a bit, and the car ride home is a tad on the awkward side. However, she needs her milk, and she remembers where her milk comes from, so we're friends again...till tomorrow's session.

So the plan, to keep plugging away at this freelance writing, because I'm not going to stop pushing until I can break my little chicken out of nursery and bring her back there when "WE" are both ready and on "OUR" terms.

So for now, I'm going to take advantage of my vulnerable state, exploit my emotions ...and write a little blog about the trials of a half day at nursery.

For anyone else settling your little one(s) into nursery ...please know that you are not alone.

Thinking of you,

your extended Squad.

To discuss hiring Max as a freelance writer, please contact: max@maxineknightwrites.com

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