Breaking up is hard to do.
Ever been in a really bad relationship that made you feel like crap, that required you to obsess for hours about what to do and to examine how you felt, and where the person alternated between acting sweetly and horribly? And maybe you even had a dream about when and how it would end, and when you woke up your only regret was that it hadn't ended yet? And perhaps the relationship indeed ends, but you are shocked to find that you feel so empty inside that you want to take a bubble bath and listen to Michael Bolton?

Lucy just broke up with me.

Well, not really Lucy, but her parents. It was an odd turn of events. First she acts like a miniature-size crazy woman for three months straight, but after Christmas break, is on her best behavior and starts hugging me and warming up to me and everyone. But while I am enjoying the upside, her parents start acting funny. First they sign my new contract, but cross out the part that says if I must take them to court for non-payment, that they won't pay my attorney's fees. I find it odd that they won't sign this, being that they always pay me and I can only assume, don't plan to be taken to court. Anyway. I stress, consult my provider expert friends, and agree to cross out the line in question if in exchange, they will pre-pay for their last two weeks of care.

Then, as I am planning my vacations for the year, I drop them (and the other parents) an email asking when their vacations will be so that I can plan mine at the same time. They say to go ahead and plan mine; they will work around them. While at it, I ask if my holiday closures are an inconvenience to them. They say no.

Today he drops off the revised contract along with the last two weeks of care, which I decide to tuck away in a far away account, so it doesn't get spent before the time comes. Nine hours later, at pickup, he drops the bomb. My hours are too hard for them to work with, so they are going with a center. Plus, I have lots of days off.

My wildest dream came true. So why do I feel like crap?

A turn of events.

Let's review the last six months of daycare politics with Mikey, Charlie's best friend.
* For one year, Mikey comes to me, forms very strong friendship with Charlie.

* Mikey's mom becomes pregnant.

* Toward the very end of Mom's pregnancy, Mom announces that, due to financial reasons, Mikey cannot stay with me during her maternity leave. Her leave is unpaid, so she cannot pay me.

* I stress out quite severely. I tell her she must pay me at least half his tuition if she wants me to hold his spot. In return, I will watch him half-time.

* She can't do it. No money. So she is going to pay me for one day per week only. I accept it, but with the agreement that his spot is not held. I get a call from another boy his same age, tell Mom about him, and her immediate response is, "I can come up with the money. No worries. We really need you. We cannot lose you."

In spite of her compromise with me, I am only receiving half tuition, and the total loss for me amounts to $800. Over Christmastime.

I keep quiet about it because I want Mikey to return. He is more than just Charlie's buddy. He is very intelligent, leads the other kids in creative games, somehow motivates the kids to stay in circle time. His intelligence is contagious.

In the meantime, I stress out about the fact that when he returns, his baby sister will come too. This means...
* I will be "over" on my numbers.
* If I receive a surprise inspection, I am busted.
* My care to the other kids, including my own, will probably be compromised.
* My liability insurance may not cover me if something were to happen.

I realize that I simply cannot be over on my numbers. So I try to decide which child to let go. Many pro/con lists are created. Daycare children are scrutinized for compatability factors. Fellow daycare provider friends are consulted. Head banging ensues. Online advice read feverishly.

If I tell Mikey's mom I cannot accept her baby, I surely will lose Mikey too. And I admit to myself that he is my favorite. And tied for second place are all the rest. I decide to wait and see.

In the meantime, I hire a manny. He is fabulous. He will work only during the times that I am over. In some ways, it might be easier for me to be over, because it allows me to hire him.

I have two test-runs with manny. His fabulousness is further confirmed.

I start to do math. Even after paying manny, I will be bringing in enough extra money to upgrade our old car to a newer van, I will start contributing to an IRA, we have cell phones again, and I can build up the savings account that I depleted during Mom's maternity leave. And, when I need a new pair of jeans, I will not feel guilty for buying them. Yes, things will be good.

Fast forward to this week. Daycare mom and I talk about Mikey and Charlie being in the same preschool class this coming September. It will only be two days per week, 4 hours per day. I suddenly realize by the way she is talking that she expects a rate reduction.

I tell her I don't do part-time rates. I mean, really, what are the chances that someone will call me and need care for Monday and Wednesday from 9am-12pm? Zilch. And why should I have to take an income hit because she chose preschool? Or, getting to the heart of the matter, why should I take an income hit because she now has two kids and doesn't think two should cost more than one? I won't. A lot of people don't take part-time kids, and I don't either.

Today she says, rather casually, that come September, she is looking at other options. Like maybe a nanny.

I am an idiot. I went through all this, and in 6 months she will pull her two kids, leaving me not one, but two spots to fill?

I am angry. I am so, so angry. Obviously, when I agreed to lose $800, I did it with the expectation that her children would be more long-term.

And obviously I can't require her to sign a long-term, I-will-be-with-you-forever-amen contract.

So if she is looking out for herself, then I must do the same. And I have thought of talking to her, but honestly, I feel I can't trust her anymore. This is the second time that a threat was made by her and later rescinded. I cannot keep her two kids and wait, nervously, for her to give me notice. Her spot's been advertised.

A change of pace.
Is her goal to keep me on my toes?
I open the door, she is sweet. She says hello. She puts her shoes and coat away. She asks the other kids to play. Her hair is cute. She is wearing pink. She smiles at me.
WTF?
Well, I guess anything is possible with a two-year-old.

Personality is inborn. End of story.
In college I was a huge believer in the power of nurture in the nature/nurture debate. Women are conditioned, via parental upbringing, the media, culture, and religion to be submissive and to care for others, and men are taught to be strong and stoic.

I do still believe all of this. But I have been surprised to see that personality traits begin at a very young age, leading me to believe that nurture isn't exactly 100% responsible for who we are, or even 85% responsible. Before a kid can even poop on the potty or be aware that there is actual poop in their pants, they make their personalities known.

Lucy is testing me again, and I am finally understanding what it is that bugs me. It is not the undeniable symptoms of two-year-old-hood. I watch other two-year-olds, and their tantrums hardly phase me. It is her total brazen-ness.

Take Friday. Another two-year-old hit someone. He got a time-out. Before it was over, he started to repeat, "I sorry... I sorry..." I let him out, and without being asked, he went and hugged his victim.

Ok, maybe he is especially sweet for a toddler. Bad example.

Take Charlie. He was shaking Will in his Jumperoo. Shaking him. Causing Will's neck to go back and forth. I ran to the scene and made him stop. With me still kneeling next to him, he started to put his hand out and shake it again. I threatened a time-out. He started to shake it, though softly -- totally testing me. I made him look into my eyes. "Will's neck is going to get hurt if you do that." He thought for a moment. Then he tilted his head to one side, turned on his high-pitched falsetto and said, "Oh Will. Don't get hurt. I won't hurt you."

So - see? They can all be extremely naughty. But there is a sweet interior and concern for others. And Lucy has it too, but it is buried very, very deeply under the burning desire to communicate naughty bad words with those razor sharp eyes.

Last week I gave her a time-out for hitting. When it was over, I got down on her level. Usually at this point, a kid will either look defiant (really, asking to stay in time-out longer), or they will look a little ashamed and sad. She does neither. Instead, in the split second of waiting for me to say my usual words, she takes a big step toward me until she is one millimeter from my face, slowly sticks out her lower lip, and squints her eyes at me until they look through my eyes and into the back of my brain.

Where the hell would a two-year-old learn this?

This is a good place to add that I adore her parents. They are so nice. They are smart and I respect how they treat her and others.

So between the three of us, her sassiness has not been conditioned. And I remind myself constantly that she will probably grow up to be assertive and successful. Maybe a Hillary Clinton or Nancy Pelosi.

But in the meantime, this sucks.

Smart kid, or just a smarty pants?

Charlie (to daddy): Daddy, that's dirty laundry?
Daddy: Yes.
Charlie: That makes mommy sad.
Daddy: Really, sad?
Charlie: Yes. And frustrated.

Later...
The kids are sitting around the table doing an art project that involves cutting (with kid-safe scissors, of course)
Me: Charlie, stop using those scissors to cut that crayon.
Charlie: No.
Me: Do you want me to take them away?
Charlie: Mommy, you go in that next room, and then I use this scissors to cut this crayon???
It is a genuine question.

Later...
Charlie gets a time-out. He doesn't stay in it. So I give him the once-dreaded but now-useless Upstairs Time-Out, which is supposed to involve boring time away from his best friends. I put him in Will's baby room, because it is extra boring in there. Two minutes later I go to release him. He is sitting in Will's crib, holding one of his wall pictures in his hands.
Me: Uh, Charlie...
Charlie: Mommy, mommy! This picture fell off this wall, so I jump up here on crib, and I catch it.
Wow. My hero.

Later...
We step over a kid's nap mat, lying in the middle of the floor.
Charlie: This is a bed for cuddling on. Mommy, will you cuddle with me, on this bed, right now?
Awww.