Day care...

So Ollie and I spent the morning "acclimating" to day care. The thought of it makes me so unhappy. I understand it's the best thing for us- me getting my dissertation done, him being a social butterfly playing with other kids. And even a few months ago if you'd asked me I'd have said I was excited. But as it turns out, I was lying. I am not at all excited. I love being Ollie's mom. I love it. I never thought, honestly, that I'd make that great of a mom. I'm pretty impatient and seem reserved to the rest of the world. But I'm really good at being Ollie's mom. I never run out of patience with him. I love seeing him giggle. I love taking baths with him, every night, even though that's technically when Eric's the parent and I'm off the hook. I love snuggling with him late at night when he's trying to figure out how to go to sleep again. Today I read him Click, Clack, Moo six times in a row (because he never grows tired of hearing it) and I did it in six different accents. Seriously, I brag because I am so damn confused at how much I love being his mom.

Nobody gives you much positive feedback as a PhD student. Mostly they tell you your work sucks, you're lazy, you're a bad teacher, etc. Mostly they just make you feel like shit and completely inept at everything you try to do. Never do they giggle at you. Never do they rip off your glasses, study you seriously, grab you and kiss you, and try to put your glasses back on as if they were the hero in a bad romantic comedy. Never do they smile their biggest, happiest smile everytime you enter the room.

So why exactly am I giving up time with Smudgey to be a PhD student? Lord if I know.