Yesterday was the first day of school. . . . . and daycare. We all had a good first day, Karly said the summer already seems like a distant memory - a long weekend. Oh for teenage angst . . . . or not. Preston was just his cool calm self - "school was good mom, I can open my locker like crazy". I dropped my baby off, he was so unsuspecting and innocent! I then came home and logged on and began my odyssey. According to all the syllabuses (6(!) graduate level courses) I will need to devote 90 hours a week to schoolwork. Ha. I hate how they give you an average amount of hours to study for each class, when you add up the "minimum amount of time you need to devote to this class" the numbers are obviously wildly exaggerated. I have created a little corner with all my books and papers and my trusty wonderful laptop, where I will spend all the hours (minus lunch and a few little breaks) that baby is at daycare. Today when I dropped off little man he knew what was going to happen. He was going to the house where he had to be obedient and not hit and eat when his food is in front of him, and other unimaginable horrors. He screamed. I cried. Marilyn (the mean lady) picked him up and shooed me out. She is a dear sister in our ward who has 20 years of daycare under her belt, she spends the whole day with 5 kids, doing preschool and other activities. I will repeat to myself over and over, "this will be ok, this will be ok." Marilyn said one week and he'll be an old pro. When I picked him up yesterday, the wise and seasoned 5-yr-old of the group came up to me and very seriously expressed his reservations at Mason's behavior. Off-the-charts cuteness factor. I told him I was grateful to have such a good helper and example - he sighed, knowing the job ahead would be a challenge. It's all good. Well, better crack the books!
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