BUCKING THE SYSTEM: MOTHER, GRANDMOTHER TYPES MOURN CHILD'S STRIDES TOWARD BIGBOYDOM

After having selected a day care for my son, I now realize I was looking for what I had received as a child.

When I selected a day care program for Jerry, I counted on my instincts to lead me in the right direction.

I wanted my beautiful, then-7-week old son to be kept in a small, Christian atmosphere that was bright, cheerful and clean. I wanted him to have fun and to mix with children of a variety of ages. And I also wanted a grandmother-type to be on hand for the days he might need extra helpings, hugs, or just plain old spoiling.

I now realize I was looking for what I had received as a child.

It's true, Ma Mable provided all of those things and more. She didn't run a bona fide day care, just a place for teacher's kids like her own grandchildren to go for the day.

Ma Mable was able to handle up to 12 of us kids in her home for a number of years without any help. She kept us through heat advisories and snowstorms, through stomach viruses and chicken pox outbreaks, and we survived. Whether we were sick or she was just feeling a little low, she never complained.

Ma Mable fussed, separated and spanked us as necessary to make us mind. If none of that worked she called our parents, who then came and reinforced the lessons we should have gotten the first time around.

I found Jerry's Ma Mable in a lady named Miss Barbara. Miss Barbara, with her grandmotherly bosom and comfortable shoes, was more than willing to adopt Jerry as her own for the few hours she worked at the day care daily.

It was no secret he was her favorite. In fact, she spoiled my baby so much with her rocking, hugs and kisses that sometimes, even today, he'd rather be with her than with me.

One of the reasons I selected the day care where Miss Barbara works is the owner told me I should move my child after he turned 3. She placed my sons's educational needs above her financial objectives, an act I respected and admired.

And so it is that Friday marked Jerry's last day with Miss Barbara. He will begin at a preschool program Monday that was selected in much the way the day care was selected.

He's giving me every indication that he's ready. Every time we ride by the new center he smiles and yells, "That my new 'chool! There go my new 'chool!"

Even so, I don't think Jerry has realized yet that Miss Barbara won't be at the new school.

I do know Miss Barbara has realized this, because in a way that only grandmothers have, she's let me know she's not sure I'm taking the wisest course of action.

"Are you SURE you're ready to move him, Tammy?" (Miss Barbara is one of a select few people on this earth allowed to call me Tammy.) "What kind of place is he moving to, anyway?"

I understand Miss Barbara's desire to hold onto Jerry a little while longer. I've been putting this move off for several weeks/months because I wasn't ready for him to leave the nest.

However, I know that it's time, and honestly, I believe Miss Barbara does, too.

And so, even though we'll both probably shed a few tears on Monday as we mourn Jerry's next step towards Bigboydom, we'll both feel secure in the knowledge that he's been well-prepared for his newest lessons.

Besides, we've still got PJ to snuggle up with. At least for a couple more years.

~Tamara Zellars Buck is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.