Too little too late, sunshine

Today marked a most auspicious occasion: one hour of care in the hands of strangers without tears being shed. Mind you, there were tears at the beginning and while I waited just outside the door in Reception, a carer had to stop, drop and roll to the LGBB, perch her on her knee for the next 50 minutes and do nothing (that was one smart worker - if there is one thing I learnt whilst working in child care, it is that you always go for the kiddie who "needs cuddles", as it means the other poor sod has to do everything else including rescuing babies from themselves and each other, not to mention attending to any whiffs of anything unsavoury-smelling).

The good thing is, it means I can get something resembling a life back again, I'm aiming for around three precious hours a week. I plan to use this time, at least initially, to clean the house to within an inch of its paintwork.

I've been building up to this relief for weeks. Things just got in the way - my things at first - and then I realised the LGBB was playing the situation (they were all coincidences, of course, but I prefer to think she's smart enough to know I've threatened occasional care outside of the home and that's why she suddenly started to sleep longer in the afternoons and throw sicky fits, etc. etc.).

It seems now, after the change in sleep routines didn't work for her, in one afternoon all of a sudden she has come ahead leaps and bounds in her development. All from one hour at child care?

Today, I have witnessed the following for the first time:

• A pointed index finger, pointing at things.
• A pointed index finger poking things, mostly my nose.
• Constant stream of verbal chit-chat rivalling a teenager on the telephone (she could babble before now, but not like this).
• Scooting around on her belly - I wouldn't go so far as to say commando crawling, however if anyone needs a new spinner for their Twister game, she's your girl.
• The closest she's come to sitting up on her own from a prone position I've seen.
• Marley being given her dummy to "suck" when tucking her in to bed for the night (oh dear LORD, could the cuteness factor be any higher? My breath was taken away) - usually it's me who has the stinky thing put in her face to "suck the dummy", but no apparently now it's Marley's turn to go along with the game.

It's as if she was saving it all up for such an outing. See, I can do all these things, you don't have to send me away for me to do them. I wanted her to do something, anything, new for what seems like months - her frustration and certainly my patience couldn't take much more of the inaction and snail's pace slowness of the motor skills stuff. And yet, I'm feeling like I've been told to put the book down for the night, in the middle of the most exciting chapter. I wanna know what happens tomorrow! Today!