ticks while I'm away

I've been working all day on Sundays; Cassidy stays with her dad.  One time I came home in the late afternoon and found Chris pushing her around in a wheel barrow.  I think it was the cutest thing I'd ever seen.  Another late afternoon (this past weekend) she was splashing around a little kiddie pool I'd bought last year and forgot about, a bright colorful beach umbrella tilted against the sun.  He takes her hiking in the kelty backpack we recently scored at a second hand shop, and she helped him plant potatoes with her little plastic gardening tools (a minor mishap or two when she dug up the potatoes he'd just planted, but she sort of got the idea).  I also tutor in the afternoons on Tuesdays and Thursdays; again, she hangs with dad, and takes her second nap of the day (I wish this would last forever) while he works out in the barn, monitor on the workbench.

Today was the first day I'd left her all day with a babysitter.  Not just one babysitter, but when I found out Chris was going to be late home from work, I got a second sitter to relieve the first one.  Fortunately the bakery is a one minute ride up the street, so I came home for the transition.  My sister in law was with her until 230, then our high schooler came after school for the next two hours.  I came home for the in between with my dirty white apron still on, which might have been a mistake because my heart broke as I tried to make a graceful exit, Cassidy chanting Mama! Mama! Mama!


We were up to our ears in whoopie pies, muffins and cupcakes.  I got home a little after five and I could hear Cassidy was just waking up when I got home, Chris coaxing her out of her stupor.  She didn't sleep long and came downstairs whiny and needy.  We had no idea why she was screaming and complaining, whining and crying but when she went into the living room and pointed at the tv, I was right there with her.  We don't let her watch tv every day, in fact, we don't let her watch much of anything aside from the Old School Sesame Street DVD's I bought for her entertainment as much as my own.  Watching them for the first time my memory was so jarred into childhood I had to call my sister: "Remember that one with the two girls and the dollhouse?  The two little dolls, two little beds, two little spoons, two sleepy heads?  And then the cat came and busted in the dollhouse?  Oh my God, do you remember that?"


So I put on a little Sesame street and sat with her on the couch, though she had no interest in snuggling with me.  She pushed me away like "you think I'm gonna snuggle you now after leaving me all day?"   Ouch.   Still, I sat with my hand draped over her head, and played with her hair.  She let me, after all.


And then an unmistakable bump.  I've felt them on Annie about a thousand times and every time, even with the dog, go into a slight panic and call for Chris.  This time I was no different, and yet it was very different.  "CHRIS!!!! she's got a TICK on her HEAD!!!!"


I jumped up and ran into the bathroom for bacitracin and a tweezer.  Chris came over with a magnifying glass.  "It's too big for a deer tick," my husband said.  "Are you sure?  Are you sure?  Should we save it and have it tested?  Oh my God!"


I hate ticks more than anything, except for maybe leeches.  Ticks on my daughters head?  Nothing I could have done, but I still felt like the worst mother that I wasn't here to flick it off immediately.  Not that I would have, or even could have, prevented anything, anything at all.  


I know I can't be with her every single minute of every single day.  I know I can't protect her from every single thing that comes her way.  I know I can't soothe every hurt, cry and whine.  I know I can't stop the bumps and scrapes and falls. 
But Oh My God, do I want to.