A Return, of Sorts

I haven't written here in almost four months.  I haven't felt the need to write for a variety of reasons.  For the last few days I have been thinking about this blog and the space it gave me to journal about certain aspects of my life.  I often still feel the need to journal, but I haven't felt the need to journal publicly for a while.  I started this blog almost eight years ago, when I was pregnant with my first child.  I wanted a space in which I could explore all the changes I was experiencing, and this space was very, very useful for that.  In fact, this space helped to keep me sane during three pregnancies, writing and defending a dissertation, an international move, and many family issues, among other things.  I discovered some good friends through this blog, and I maintained strong connections with others because of this blog.  For the past year or so, blogging started to feel like a chore.  I was blogging out of obligation rather than out of a desire to write or to connect with people.  I didn't want to write out of obligation--I already do quite a lot of writing out of obligation.  I wanted this space to be a positive space, even if I used it to rant occasionally.  This is all to explain why I stopped blogging.

I am going to start blogging again, I think.  I may be changing some things, including the blog's name.  I'm no longer as interested in recording my experiences of being an "academic mother," which is not to say that I won't be using this space to write about those experiences.  I just no longer see that as the primary thing I want to write about here.  For now, I think my posts will be more personal, more about my journey as a parent and as a person.  At least that is how I feel right now. 

Chaos

Today marks the first day of what will be a chaotic year for us.  With all three boys in different schools, Archer and I will be constantly checking our calendars and communicating about who is getting which child when.  We've worked out a schedule, but we're both sacrificing quite a bit of time at the office to forgo the cost of after school care for Bear and Wild Man.  We'll both end up doing a lot of class prep after the boys are asleep, and we'll likely have to find some time on the weekends.  We'll manage though, and we're both happy with our decision.

Memories

My parents are fairly young, in their early sixties.  My mother, aside from having bi-polar II, is in fairly good health.  My father is in good health as well, but he has some physical problems that require he use a leg brace, a back brace, and a walker.  Getting around is not easy for my dad.  He uses a shower chair, an elevated toilet seat, and other aids that make life easier for him, at least in their house.  His ability to get around is so limited that he rarely leaves the house.  My parents go to dinner once a week, and they run errands--to the grocery store (where he uses a motorized cart), the drug store, and places like that.  He often goes days without leaving the house, and travel is virtually impossible (well, it isn't, actually, but as he prefers not to use his insurance to get items that would make travel infinitely easier, travel is hard).  That said, my dad's mind is fully functioning.  He reads a lot (although stuff I think is terrible!), he watches the news constantly, and he plays several computer games meant to keep his mind active.  His memory is great, and he keeps track of all his appointments as well as my mom's without a problem.  My mom, on the other hand, forgets a lot.  She claims this is due to her meds, and I think she is right, at least partly.  Lately though, it has become very apparent that she is forgetting a lot, things that I think she should remember, like my sons' ages and their grades, the ages of her other grandchildren, that her father died.  I've tried to talk to my father about my mother's memory loss, but he brushes me off, assuring me she's fine.  I don't think she is though.  I will see her later this month, and I will be observing very closely the sorts of things she forgets.  I'm not sure what I will say or do, but I will be paying very close attention

*I started this post weeks ago, and I just finished it. I have since seen my mother, and my concerns were founded.  I've arranged an appointment for her with her doctor and have scheduled a conference call with her doctor.

Things I never expected to do. . .

I have done so many things I never thought I do since I became a parent.  That list includes:

• pulling boogers out of my kid's nose
• pulling boogers out of a friend's kid's nose
• wearing a sweater that had a little bit of vomit on it to a meeting
• washing a load of laundry that had a single blanket in it to make my child calm down
• sit up for hours in a steamy bathroom so my kid could breathe
• eat chicken nuggets on a regular basis
• discuss the finer details of Star Wars
• analyze the class divisions in the Cars movies
• stay up till midnight making homemade Valentines for the kids in my child's class

Even before I was a parent, however, if you'd told me I'd do any of the above, I likely would have laughed and said, "Oh, you're probably right!" Now that I've done them, none of those things seem that odd or disgusting.  They are part of my every day life now. I never, ever thought I do what I just did, and I sincerely wish I did not feel compelled to do it.  I just emailed Wild Man's principal to ask what the school's lockdown policies are.  I want to know what they have taught the kids to do in the event a gunman comes into the school.  I want to know that they have a policy in place to protect as many children and teachers as possible should such a horrific, tragic thing ever happen in my child's school.  And I am absolutely sick to my stomach that I feel like Archer and I now have to have a discussion with our children about such an event.

Mothering two boys; or, When is nudity no longer appropriate?

Archer and I were married for six years before Wild Man was born.  Prior to getting married, we were in a long distance relationship for two and a half years.  Immediately after getting married, we lived with my parents for two months.  By the time we were in our own apartment, we were more than ready to take full advantage of being in our own space together.  For six years, I didn't have to worry about putting on a robe when I walked from the bathroom to the bedroom.  I would strip out of running clothes in the kitchen and make dinner in my sports bra.  I would pull off my shirt and bra and throw them directly into the washing machine.  On really hot days while we were living in Southwest College Town, Archer would come home to find me in my underwear lying directly beneath the air conditioning vent.  Suffice to say, I have no problems walking around our house naked, and neither does Archer.

After Wild Man was born, my attitude toward nudity didn't really change.  I was breast feeding, and I was exhausted.  I doubt I have a single friend, male or female, from Southwest College Town who hasn't seen my breasts, and frankly I didn't--and don't--care.  While lots of my friends were hesitant to let their children of the opposite sex see them naked, I honestly never thought about it.  Wild Man was colicky, and for the first three months of his life he cried for 3 or 4 hours straight every night.  One of the very few things that soothed him was the shower, something we discovered by total chance.  Archer was showering one evening while Wild Man screamed.  I was simply unable to take it anymore, so I took all of his clothes off and handed him to Archer.  I expected him to cry louder--even though that seemed impossible at the time--but I didn't really care.  I just needed five minutes to myself.  Amazingly, however, as Archer held Wild Man under the shower, he relaxed.  As long as he could feel the spray hitting his back, he was calm.  I was delighted to see my newborn so calm, so I joined them in the shower.  Thus began a nightly ritual. 

By the time Wild Man was six months old, we were no longer showering with him every day, but at least two or three nights a week one of us would plop him down in the tub and turn on the shower.  While I washed, Wild Man would play in the spray, and then I'd wash him.  Then Archer would take him out and dry him off while I got dressed.  When Archer was on the job market and gone two or three nights a week, every week for almost two months, showering with Wild Man became the only way I could ensure we both got a bath before midnight.  Wild Man got accustomed to seeing me naked, and I didn't think much of changing my clothes in front of him or taking a bath with him.  When Bear was born, we took him into the shower as well, and while he wasn't colicky, he enjoyed feeling the spray on his back as much as Wild Man did.

In the past few months, Archer and I have been talking about whether it is still appropriate for Wild Man to see me naked.  This has been a difficult conversation to have for a few reasons.  First, we only have one full bathroom, so often while I'm showering in the morning, Archer and the boys are brushing their teeth too.  Second, my children think seeing their parents naked is normal.  Wild Man rarely comments on it, except for the few times he has asked why my body is different than his.  I didn't want to change things unless we absolutely had to.  Plus, I enjoy the freedom of being able to walk from the bathroom to the bedroom without putting a robe on or getting fully dressed.  A few weeks ago, however, it became very clear that somethings were going to have to change around our house.

We were getting ready to go to the pool.  While Archer put sunscreen on the boys, I was changing into my suit.  Wild Man walked into our bedroom just as I had taken off my bra, and he said, "Mommy, you have such beautiful boobies!"  I quickly put on my suit, and then I sat down with Wild Man for a chat.  I tried as carefully as I could to explain that that isn't a sentiment one expresses to one's mother.  We then had a quick talk about bodies and how bodies are private.  I left it at that, but from that day on, I've been wearing a robe and keeping the door to the bathroom closed.  I've asked Wild Man to knock before entering, simply explaining that "Mommy wants some privacy."  I thought we were past the hard part until this past weekend.

Friday evening, while we were at the pool (I'm seriously rethinking our decision to get a family membership to the neighborhood pool), Wild Man said, "Mommy, what do you call a girl's penis?"  This seemed like a simple enough question, so I answered.  The rest of the conversation proved both hilarious and enlightening.

WM: S (a girl in Wild Man's daycare class) showed me her vagina the other day.

M: She did?  While you all were in the bathroom? (The bathroom in their classroom has three sinks and three toilets and no doors; the boys and girls are allowed in there at the same time.)

WM: Yes,  it was right before lunch.  Can I ask you something?

M: Sure, what?

WM:  How come S's vagina is prettier than yours?  (At this point, Archer, who was changing Bear out of his swim diaper, had to turn away so Wild Man wouldn't see him laughing uncontrollably.)

M: What do you mean?

WM: Well, yours is all furry, and S's isn't.

Following that statement, we had a brief conversation about the differences between children's bodies and adults' bodies.  Archer took over at that point because I was also struggling not to laugh.  Archer explained that bodies have "private parts."  He explained that Wild Man should keep his "private parts" to himself and that, if he doesn't want to see his friends' "private parts," he should tell them that when they are in the bathroom together.  Wild Man was satisfied with this, and he hasn't mentioned it since.

I, however, am over analyzing as I am apt to do.  I understand that children this age (he's almost 5) are curious about their bodies, and I also realize this was very likely to happen even if I hadn't been open with being naked in front of Wild Man.  But the reality is, I have two sons.  And in light of these recent events, I'm wondering if I shouldn't be more modest around Bear, who is 2.  I like that my children are comfortable with their bodies, and I do think that is, at least in part, due to the fact that Archer and I have never really talked about nudity.  Neither of us has ever drawn much attention to being naked in front of them; it just happens at our house.  So they see it as normal.  But now that Wild Man is asking questions I am wondering if I should have stopped showering with and changing my clothes in front of him sooner.  When is nudity no longer appropriate?

Parenting Dilemmas

During our lengthy trip to Home State, we were able to spend a bit of time with some good friends from Southwest College Town.  On the way to Home State, we visited Solon and Megs  They have three children, two girls and a boy, and Archer and I are their youngest daughter's godparents.  Likewise they are Bear's godparents.  While we were together, I observed some very key differences between their girls and our boys (their son, whom I will call Ringo because he loves drums, just turned one, so any differences I noticed between him, his sisters, and our boys I'm going to attribute to age).  The key differences are fairly expected.  Solon and Megs's girls (whom I will call Aurora and Belle, in honor of their favorite princesses) are "quieter" and "calmer," but they also seem to listen better.  If Megs wanted Aurora, the eldest, (to Solon and Megs, if you're reading this, yes, I know these are totally lame pseudonyms, so you don't need to comment on the lameness) to do something, she asked, and more often than not, Aurora complied.  Similarly, if Solon needed Belle to do something, she complied, with only one exception that I recall.

In contrast, Archer and I find ourselves asking Wild Man and Bear to do the same thing over and over again.  For example, if I want Wild Man, who is about 4 months older than Aurora, to get dressed, I say, "Wild Man, here are you clothes.  Please get dressed."  He may take off his PJ bottoms as soon as I make the request, but before putting on his shorts, he gets distracted and starts playing.  I repeat the request, and completely absorbed in his imaginary world of who knows what, Wild Man ignores me.  I repeat the request a third time, and this time he may take off his PJ top.  Once that is off, he recalls the joy of being in his underwear and proceeds to perform the underwear dance for about 3 minutes.  I remind him again to get dressed, and usually by now, I'm starting to lose my patience.  Wild Man may pick up his shirt and toss it across the bedroom.  At this, I'm getting angry, so I raise my voice and tell him to come to me.  I then hand him each piece of clothing while he puts in on.  Only then is he dressed.  This, frankly, is a good morning.  Bad mornings include at least one trip to time out for Wild Man for not listening.  Bear is slightly more willing to get dressed, but then he is just two.  Unlike Wild Man, he is not able to dress himself.  It can, however, be a bit of a wrestling match to get him to stand still long enough to get clothes on him.

While we were with Solon and Megs, I watched Megs dress Aurora and Belle.  Megs said, "Aurora, here are your clothes.  Please put them on."  Aurora said something like, "I'd rather wear this shirt, Mommy."  Megs said, "Ok, now please get dressed."  And without saying anything else, Aurora did.  Belle had to be asked twice, but then she isn't quite three.  Whereas it took me about ten minutes to get Wild Man and Bear dressed, Aurora and Belle were dressed in under five minutes.  I also noticed that Megs never lost her patience (I lose my patience a lot), and she didn't seem frazzled at all.  Aurora and Belle listened to their mother and did what she asked.  I began to wonder if I was doing something wrong.

Fast forward to the end of our trip.  We spent a day and night with some other dear friends from Southwest College Town, who, by virtue of the academic job market, now live three hours from our parents.  Like us, Supadiscomama and Harrogate have two boys.  Captain and Climber (names that reflect their eldest son's love of pirates and their youngest son's propensity to climb up Supadiscomama) are 3 months older than Wild Man and ten months younger than Bear, respectively.  As with Ringo, I'm not including Climber in any observations because of his age.  In the time we were with them, I observed that Supadiscomama and Harrogate, like Archer and me, often had to repeat their instructions to Captain.  While he occasionally seemed to chose not to listen as an act of defiance (as does Wild Man), more often than not he just seemed too wrapped up in what he was doing to focus on his parents' instructions.  Like Archer and me, Captain's parents lost their patience and, after asking him to do something at least four times, sent him to time out for not listening.  Throughout the visit, both Wild Man and Captain struggled to focus on directions and to listen, but several times both did exactly what they were asked to do without hesitation or question. Following our time with Supadiscomama and Harrogate, I began to wonder if girls just listen better than boys, especially at this age. 

Since our return to CU Land, I've been thinking about this question a lot, primarily because some days I am literally at my wit's end.  When Wild Man doesn't listen, for whatever reason, I find myself losing my patience, as does Archer.  We both end up raising our voices, threatening, and taking things away all in an attempt to get Wild Man to do what we're asking.  We've tried a reward system, and that has worked with some success.  But we both think that at 4 1/2 there are some things Wild Man should be able to do without a reward--like getting dressed and brushing his teeth.  So at the end of most days, we're both annoyed with our child, and we're both feeling like horrible parents.  We've talked about this endlessly, and we've tried various things, including explaining consequences, giving warnings, etc.  No matter what we try it seems like we end up raising our voices and threatening, and in turn, Wild Man is now raising his voice at Bear.  So we've only succeeded in teaching him to yell at his little brother.  I feel like what we're doing just isn't working.  And, while Archer would argue that I'm overreacting, I feel like we're failing as parents, at least in this particular area.  Moreover, despite some research on the topic, I'm left with lots of questions and virtually no answers.  Are boys different than girls (which, ultimately, really isn't the point)?  What techniques are more effective helping boys learn to listen?  How can we help Wild Man and Bear to focus and listen without resorting to yelling and time outs?  Or are we simply expecting too much from our children, Wild Man especially?

My mom

My mom has been visiting all week.  She arrived last Friday, and the ostensible purpose of the visit was so she could be here for Bear's birthday.  When she arrived, she seemed to be in good shape.  She was coherent, she was engaged, and she was present.  She did mention that she has an appointment with a neurologist early next month as she has been experiencing some facial ticks that neither her psychiatrist nor her G.P. can figure out.  I took that with a grain of salt as she has been under a lot of stress with her mother's death and some of my sister's and father's health issues.  I immediately thought that perhaps the ticks are due to stress.  We had a fairly good weekend, so I said to Archer, "You know, Mom seems to be in good shape.  I think she's doing well."  By Monday, it became clear, however, that she isn't doing as well as I thought.

She spent the morning house hunting with us, and by the afternoon, she was exhausted.  She kept asking the same questions over and over again.  When we took the boys by the house we really liked, she literally did not remember having been there less than 3 hours earlier.  On Tuesday, she went with us to complete the paperwork to put in an offer on this house, but she sat in the car and slept.  Wednesday she came to campus with me to help me unpack my office, which I finally have a key to.  She fell asleep while I unpacked and organized, and eventually she asked me to take her back to my house.  Keep in mind that Wednesday was Bear's birthday.  We had planned to order pizza and have cupcakes, as we'd already had a small party for him over the weekend.  When we arrived home after getting the boys, we found her still asleep.  She'd taken a 3 hour nap, and she complained throughout the evening of not feeling well.  She woke up yesterday with a cold, and she stayed home while Archer and I went to work and looked at more houses.  This morning she went with us to look at houses again, but she stayed in the car for much of the morning.  She is now back at our house resting.  Tomorrow she goes home, and I'm really concerned about her ability to make it on the shuttle and through the airport, as she really doesn't seem to be with it.

Let me add a few things.  My mother, as I've written before, is not a social person.  She endured our good friend's daughter's birthday party last Saturday, as well as Bear's on Sunday (there were 6 children there, including Bear and Wild Man, along with 5 other adults).  She went house hunting even though that is not her thing.  She played with the boys a lot last weekend, but since Tuesday she has basically sat on the couch.  She keeps calling Wild Man Bear and vice versa.  She's called me by my sister's name about 10 times.  If she had just seen my sister, I wouldn't find that so troubling, but she hasn't seen my sister since February.  When I correct her, she honestly doesn't seem to realize her mistake.  I last saw my mom in November at her mother's funeral, and she looks like she has aged 5 years.

I'm really worried about her.  I know that her medication for her bipolar does cause some memory loss, but this memory loss seems extreme.  She doesn't seem to be capable of doing anything for herself, and more to the point, she doesn't really seem interested in anything.  I tried to talk to her about all of this, and I don't even know if she understood the questions I was asking her.  Aside from all of that, I miss my mother.  This person is so different from the mom I grew up with that in many, many ways I feel like I've lost my mother. I no longer know who this woman is, and while I cannot begin to imagine how she must feel, that is almost unbearable to me.

I have so much more to write, but for now, I'll just say has been a really rough week.

Being Judged

I'd never heard of the blog "Too Big for Strollers" until I read this article.  But I complete agree with the author about being judged as a parent.  I have lots more to say about this (including recognizing that I'm guilty of judging other parents), but for now, I will just say that it seems like parental judging has become so pervasive that it is almost impossible to have a conversation with anyone about my children without feeling like I'm being judged.  And that isn't a nice feeling.

Archer's dad

Today would have been Archer's father's 64th birthday, something that both Archer and I completely forgot.  I was only reminded when I randomly logged into Facebook to ask a friend a question and saw Pita's post.  When I got home, I reminded Archer, not because I wanted him to feel bad, but because I don't want him to deal with the shitstorm he's likely to get from Pita and Yetta if he didn't call to ask how Yetta is doing.  So he called, and Yetta was out.  Pita said, "How are you doing?"  He said, "I'm sick.  I have a fever.  I feel awful."  She said, "No, I mean about the other."  Archer gave a long, long sigh, and said, "I completely forgot.  I only remembered b/c M said you posted it on Facebook.  I'm fine.  His birthday doesn't bother me."  Pita didn't say much, but Archer told me he felt like he upset her. 

These phone calls happen on every significant holiday you can think of, and the implication is always that Archer is a horrible human being because he isn't weeping over his dad on Christmas/Father's Day/Valentine's Day/his dad's birthday.  Here is the thing for Archer. He misses his dad every day, and it hits him at the oddest moments.  Like when's he found his dad's camo hat that he didn't know he had or when Wild Man asks a question about animals or nature (Archer's dad was a hunter and loved hiking).  The "big" days aren't hard for him.  The little, every day moments are.  He's explained this to his mom and sister several times, but they just don't get it.  I have no idea why.

Mothering a Stubborn Child

Wild Man is smart, funny, adventurous, daring, artistic, dramatic, polite, and kind.  Wild Man is also stubborn.  Archer and I have experienced many difficult parenting moments as a result of Wild Man's stubbornness, and we generally get through these moments with a modicum of disruption to our routine, our parenting styles, and our daily lives.  We constantly remind ourselves that we are both stubborn and that our stubbornness has served us well in life as it has led to determination to accomplish the goals we set for ourselves. 

I am the kind of mother that wants Wild Man to ask questions and to understand how things happen and how they work.  At times, Archer feels I allow Wild Man too much room to question and to discuss, but generally Archer agrees with me.  This means we spend a fair amount of time talking about things like why we wear snow boots in the winter.  Despite my belief that this is the right way for us to parent, there are moments when I really just want Wild Man to be quiet and to do as I ask him.  You know, when we're 20 minutes late and I have to be on campus for office hours.  At those moments I'd really just like Wild Man to do as I ask him rather than telling me that Morton, his imaginary pterandon, doesn't have to wear snow boots or that Morton's mommy also said Wild Man doesn't have to wear snow boots. 

For the past three days, Wild Man has been running a fever between 101 and 103.5.  Wild Man is rarely sick, so this is a bit unusual for us.  On Saturday, when he began complaining that the fever was making him uncomfortable, I said, "Well, let's take some medicine.  It will bring your fever down and make you feel better."  Wild Man hasn't had Motrin in a long, long time, but he has seen us give it to Bear, who generally takes it without incident.  So I poured the correct amount in the medicine cup and gave it to Wild Man, who proceeded to drink it down.  And then he proceeded to hold it in his mouth for 15 minutes until he gagged himself.  I told him he couldn't watch any TV until he took his medicine.  He was feeling really crappy, so this wasn't an issue for him at all.  In fact, he curled up on the couch and went to sleep for 2 hours.  When he woke up, his fever was up to 103, and he finally agreed to take some Motrin.  He was feeling better within 15 minutes.  He said, "You were right, Mommy!  The medicine did make me feel better."  I thought we had solved the problem.

Fast forward to yesterday evening.  His fever had returned accompanied with a cough.  I prepared a dose of cough medicine and Motrin.  I reminded him that he had taken both in the past and that both had made him feel better.  He point blank refused to take either one.  Archer and I discussed it with him.  We explained the entire process, reminding him that he would feel better.  We went against every parenting principle we have connected to food and offered him candy as a reward.  I offered to take him to McDonalds today for lunch (Wild Man learned about McDonalds during our trip to the States to attend my grandmother's funeral, and he loves it).  He refused.  So we sent him to bed without the usual stories and told him he couldn't watch TV or play any games until he took his medicine.  An hour later he was crying in his bed because he was so hot (his fever had spiked up to 103 again) that he couldn't get comfortable.  I took him into the bathroom and sat him on the floor.  I told him we would sit in the bathroom until he took his medicine.  He cried that he was tired, but he still refused.  We sat there from 8:30 until 9:45.  Archer came upstairs, and we had a quick consultation.  Wild Man was flushed and glassy-eyed from the fever.  He was barely staying awake, but he continued to refuse to take the medicine.  Archer picked him up and held his arms down, while I squirted the Motrin in the back of Wild Man's throat.  Wild Man cried, and I cried.  I hugged him until he calmed down, and then I put him to bed.  10 minutes later he was asleep.  I checked on him 30 minutes after that, and his fever had dropped. 

I know he needed the medicine, even just to make him sleep more comfortably, but I felt (and feel) horrible.  I feel like I violated some part of our relationship by forcing him to take the medicine.  As crazy (and as academic) as it sounds, I feel like I took away Wild Man's agency.  I did to him what my parents would have done to me--I said, "I am the parent, and I know what is best.  You are not allowed to have any control over your own body because I know what is best for you better than you do.  Now you must do as I say without asking any questions."  I do not want to be that kind of parent.  I do not.  I do not want to have to physically restrain my child to get him to take medicine.  But at the same time, I am the parent, and I do know that sometimes he is going to have to do things he doesn't want to do to get and/or stay healthy.  He is only 4, after all.  And as smart as he is, he doesn't understand illness or medicine. 

I know he needed the medicine, and I know there will be times in the future (like tonight) when he will need medicine.  I may have to do the same thing over again.  That said, I do not feel like I did the right thing at all, but I also don't know what else I could have done. 

My Mom

My mom is in town to help me with Bear and Wild Man as Archer is going out of town this week.  Ordinarily, I wouldn't have asked anyone to come help for 2 nights, but Archer is gone the night I teach from 6 to 9.  So I needed someone to give the boys dinner, bathe them, and get them to bed.  My mom volunteered, and as I haven't seen her since July, it seemed like a good idea. 

Every visit with my mom brings up lots of issues--some good, some bad.  The first few days are about me negotiating the issues I have on my own so I can try to enjoy my time with my mom.  I'm still in the process of doing that.  I'm finding it somewhat easier this time, though, mainly because I'm trying to see my mom through Wild Man's eyes.  My son knows nothing of my complicated relationship with my mom.  He knows nothing of her bi-polar, of her tendency to over-medicate when she doesn't want to deal with the world, and of my associated trust issues.  He only knows that Nana has come to visit, and he is completely enamored of her.  Yesterday, while Bear napped and Archer and I both graded papers, my mom played Play-Dough with Wild Man for 2 hours.  Then they played hide-n-seek outside.  At bedtime, Wild Man demanded that Nana read the book we read every single night--the book that he reserves for me and refuses to let Archer read, the book that no one else has ever read to him.  This morning he wanted Nana to take him to school, and when I reminded him that Nana will be picking him up at school tomorrow and she is a little nervous driving in our city and that he needs to help her out, he walked right over to her and hugged her.  Then he said, "You can do it, Nana!"  As he said that, I thought that I can do it too.  I can let go of a lot of this baggage and focus on enjoying the relationship I have with my mom.  It isn't perfect, and it does need work.  I am often angry with her for various things, but she does love me.  I need to focus on that more.

Some day, I'll thank my son for reminding me that sometimes I need to get over myself and focus on all the fun I can have with my mom. 

Bear Update

Bear had his 15 month check-up late last week.  He is doing great, although he has slowed down in both his height and his weight.  Bear was my big baby, weight 8 lbs. 6 oz and measuring 22.5 inches at birth.  I'm 5'3" and weigh 105 lbs. when I'm not pregnant, so for me, Bear was a big baby.  Like Wild Man, Bear gained weight quickly, but he started slowing down at about 6 months.  Between his 9 month and 12 month check up he only gained a pound and literally fell off the growth chart.  That concerned his doctor and prompted a series of weight checks.  As of last week he weight 22 lbs. and 6 oz., which is about 1.5 lbs. more than he weighed at his 12 month check up.  He is gaining weight, but he is doing so at his own rate.  He is currently in the 25th percentile for weight and the 26th for height (he is 30.5 inches long).  He is hitting all of his other developmental milestones, so the doctor is no longer concerned about his weight.  She is concerned about his head size.

Bear is 30.5 inches long, and his head circumference is 19.8 inches.  He is off the chart for his head size.  Our doctor has expressed some concern in the past, but as Archer and Wild Man both have large heads, she hasn't been too worried.  But since Bear has slowed down in every other aspect of his growth except his head, she is a bit concerned.  She is sending us to have an ultrasound of his head to make sure he doesn't have hydrocephalus.  She is fairly certain he doesn't as if he did he would likely have some developmental delays, but she wants to be certain.  I'm a little worried, as I am every time one of my children has to go to a specialist.  As I think I've blogged here before, I tend to worry more about Bear.  I'm not sure why, although I think a lot of it is connected to his hospital stay at 1 month old.  The referral may take a while to come through, so I have no idea when we'll know anything at all.

Family and Academia

This weekend Archer was asked the following questions by a very famous scholar in his field: "Is your wife seeking a tenure track appointment at CU?  And you have two children?  How do you get anything done?"  Archer took these questions* very differently that I did--admittedly I wasn't present when the questions were asked.  When he relayed them to me, however, I became really annoyed.  To me, the implication behind these questions is that there can't be more than one working academic in a family, especially not if that family has more than one child.  And as an academic couple with two children, we're constantly faced with comments like this one.  On some level, I want to respond with something like this:

"We don't do it all.  In fact, we struggle every single day to get the bare minimum accomplished.  I finished my dissertation a year ago, and while I've been working on an article, I still haven't submitted anything for publication. Why?  Well, let's see.  I have 2 children, and I've taught 7 classes since Bear was born.  I submitted well over 50 job letters last year, and while I received some requests for more information, I didn't get any interviews, in part because the market is so bad but also because I have no publications.  I do, however, have an excellent teaching record and a great conference history.  As for Archer, he has, in fact, been awarded 3 grants: 2 to develop courses and 1 to start a new research project.  He has also written a book proposal (for which he's received a letter of interest from a reputable publisher), and he's also gotten an article published and another out for review.  How has he managed that you ask?  Well, he has the tenure-track position, which means he teaches 2 courses a term, one of which he gets a grader for.  He also has access to research money.  Yes, indeed, CU is very hospitable to academics with families, if you have a tenure track position.  If you don't, well, then you end up teaching a 4-4 load and have virtually no time to get your own work done, especially if you do have a family and if you actually want to spend time with your family.  The fact of the matter is academia is not hospitable to having a career and a family.  Is it possible?  Yes, but not without a lot of stress and effort.  So please stop asking stupid questions like, 'How do you do it?'"

Clearly that turned out to be much more of a rant than I had intended.  Being an academic and having a family is hard, plain and simple.  I don't like these questions because such questions make me face my own fear that this isn't possible, that life would be easier if I didn't have academic ambitions.  Then I could just teach during the week and hang out with my family the rest of the time.  Archer and I wouldn't have to worry about splitting work time evenly because I would be able to treat my job like a "normal 9 to 5 job."  The fact of the matter is that I struggle every single day.  Every evening I wonder if I spent enough time on my writing, my teaching, my children.  And the answer is usually, no, I didn't give enough time to anyone task.  And I'm not suggesting that the life of an academic is more difficult from that of any other parent--be the parent someone who stays home with the children or works outside the home.  I am suggesting that being a parent is hard, and in my case, being an academic and a parent is really hard.  I don't know how I do it all.  Most days I don't think I do any of it very well, so please, please, keep your questions to yourself.

*Archer interpreted the person to actually be saying something like this: "Wow, you and your wife both finished your dissertations after you had your eldest son!  And now you both teach at CU, and you have another child.  My goodness!  How do you do it?  I don't have any children, and I struggle to get my own work done."  Notice the fundamental difference in our interpretations.  Mine is, Archer said, cynical; his is, I said, overly optimistic.

Struggling

I am struggling a bit lately. I'm no longer certain who I am professionally. I'm no longer 100% certain what I want out of my professional life. There I said it. So what does that mean? I'm going to break this down into two categories.

What I know

• I know I am a good teacher. My last set of student evaluations were high, really high. For the 2009-2010 academic year at CU Land (a year in which I taught 4 courses in 3 departments), my average score was 6.4 out of 7, which is a full point higher than the university average.
• I love teaching. I seem to have found my groove teaching. I'm having a great time designing courses and preparing lectures. I even seem to have found a way to make professional writing enjoyable for my students.
• I am also enjoying advising students, and my students seem to be responding to me really well. I have several come to me for advice throughout the year, and I've even had a few request to work with me on the Master's Projects now that they are in the grad programs at CU. Unfortunately, because I'm only considered part-time, I can't work with graduate students.
• I am happy with my teaching, but I'm considerably less happy with the uncertainty of my position. I've had several conversations with the head of the Writing Department and the head of the English Department. Both seem interested in having me on their faculties in a more permanent way. For a variety of reasons, it isn't going to work out in Women's Studies. I'm not great at advocating for myself. I'm not great at selling myself or at "schmoozing," even though I know I need to do this in order to get what I want.
• I've figured out how to balance my teaching with my family, and I'm happy with this, very happy. I'm at a point where (Summer teaching aside) I rarely have to do work at home. I am able to focus on my boys, and I love that.
• As much as I love teaching, I'm growing increasingly frustrated by my limited time to do any of my own work. I've written nothing, literally, since I graduated last August. I have stacks of books checked out, and I've written some notes on how I want to revise two of my chapters. I even have contacted an editor at a reputable press, but I haven't had time to write.
• C is doing really well. He seems to have gotten a really great handle on how to do research. He's been awarded 3 grants since he has been at CU; he's given two invited lectures and has been asked to give another at an Ivy League school; and he's submitted two articles for publication (1 has been accepted, and he's waiting to hear about the second). Oh, and he's submitted a book prospectus and received a letter of interest from the publisher. He is currently working on the first chapter and has a clear plan to have a draft of the book done in 18 months.
• We're happy in CU Land. We're still struggling a bit with making friends, but things are getting better.
  
• That's what I know.

What I don't know

• I'm not certain I want a tenure track job at an R1, which is what CU is. C and I have a handle on me being the "teacher," and him being the "researcher." When he needs time on the weekends to work, we have found a way to balance that. I'm not sure we can handle two "researchers" and still manage our family as well as we do.
• I'm not sure I want to be a "researcher." I don't feel very successful at it right now. As I wrote above, I have a lot of confidence in my teaching. When I present at conferences, I get a lot of positive feedback, but I haven't had time to revise anything and submit for publication. I also feel like I live in a bit of black hole right now. I have no one to talk to about my work. It has been really hard to meet people in the English department, and the people I've met in the Writing department aren't in my field. I miss being part of an intellectual community, and I'm not great at introducing myself to people (see "schmoozing" point above).
• I don't know if I want to deal with all the BS that accompanies a tenure track appointment. I see a lot of the stuff that C has to deal with, and while I want more job security, I don't have to deal with committees or departmental politics at all. Well, okay, not at all, but only in a very limited way. I fully realize that I also don't get a lot of the benefits that accompany a tenure track appointment.
• I don't know if I'm done having children. There I also finally admitted that. My feelings on this are so conflicted and are also very tied up in my identity as a female academic and a feminist. On so many ways I would love to have a third child, but I don't know if we can balance a third child with an academic lifestyle. I feel like a third child is absolutely out of the question if I get a tenure track job, especially at CU Land. I feel like I have to choose my career over my family, at least with this decision. I also feel like I won't be taken seriously as an academic if I have 3 children. In all honesty, I feel like I'm pushing it with 2 children. There are lots of other factors wrapped up in this, but these are some of the driving issues.

This is where I am today. This is all quite likely to change tomorrow or as soon as I publish this post. I'm struggling. I acknowledge that. I don't know if there are any definite answers for me, at least at this point. I'm constantly thinking about these things, and I think I will be considering these for a long time to come.

Am I Good Enough?

I think a lot about whether I am a good parent, and Kate's recent post at Academic Ecology made me ask myself the "Am I Good Enough?" question yet again. It is very safe to say that C and I ask one another this question a lot. While I do feel like I'm a successful parent most of the time, there are lots of reasons why I think I'm not doing a good job, and I make bad parenting decisions almost every day. C and I do try to discuss the bad decisions, and if I make a bad decision, I expect him to say, "Um, M, that wasn't such a good move," as I also help him recognize his mistakes. Suffice to say, we spend a lot of time talking about our children, how we parent, how we want to parent, and how to be better parents.

After reading Kate's post, I began to wonder if there is a direct correlation between being a good parent and doubting whether one is a good parent. It seems to me that the best parents I know, including my blogging mama buddies Kate, Anastasia, Lilian, Profgrrrl, and AcadeMama, as well as my real life mama friends Meg, ML, Supadiscomama, P-Duck, Jennie, Sarah, and L, are constantly questioning their parenting decisions. And each of these ladies are wonderful, thoughtful, concerned, and involved parents, although each and everyone of them has a parenting style that fits their individual children and lives. I also know these ladies agonize about various parenting decisions similarly to the way C and I do. I think that thinking about parenting doesn't make one neurotic (as I have been told in the past and as I have occasionally felt); rather, it makes one a better parent.

Breast-Feeding or Fertility

I came across this article on breast-feeding and fertility while taking a break from grading. I find all things about breast-feeding interesting, and I find the idea that a woman's decision to breast feed a child for an extended period could prevent or limit her ability to have another child based on her age really intriguing and complicated. As a mother of two children, I feel like I'm constantly negotiating between what is right for one child versus what is right for another, and in any given minute, I am privileging the needs of one child over the needs of another. It is a constant struggle for me, and I'm sure for all parents.

After reading this article I found myself wondering if I were in this mother's position would I have stopped nursing Wild Man to get pregnant again. I don't know if I would have. As much as I love Bear and am so thrilled we have him, I can't imagine not nursing Wild Man for as long as we did (19 months for the record). I really believe that nursing for that extended period played a significant role in his development, both positive and negative. I also believe the same for Bear, although we're only 10 months in. The writer, Erica Kain, poses a very salient question, one so many parents are confronted with: how do you balance the needs of one child with the very different needs of another, even if the second child is only hypothetical? I know I struggle with this one every single day.

Boys and Girls, Celebrity Parents, and Stupid Tabloids

I've frequently blogged about my determination to bring Wild Man and Bear up to be who they want to be, even if that means they want to be boys who wear dresses (for the record, I'm too lazy to go through my archives to link to these posts, but they are there). So, even though I try to stay away from tabloid stuff, I was really bothered by recent headlines like, "Is Angelina Jolie Turning Shiloh into a Boy?"

I am upset by this article for a number of reasons. I mean, first, who cares? (And yes, I get the irony of that statement, since clearly I care enough to read the article online). Second, the headline really gets to me. Why do must the author assume that the mother is to blame? Seriously, why is the mother who has all the control when it comes to dressing her daughter? I mean, obviously, the mother is the one making all the fashion choices in the family. Clearly neither the father nor the child have any say in what the child is wearing. And there is absolutely no way a little girl would ask to have her haircut short. Nor is there a possible logical explanation for the haircut other than the fact that her mother wants her to look like a boy (um, I don't know, these people do have 6 kids. Maybe they don't want to brush the kid's hair every single day.). Beyond that, the language really bothers me. Yes, I know it is all subjective, and it is a tabloid--or sort of. The blog I link to often includes some decent articles on parenting. I'm not surprised to see this sort of thing on "Life & Style," but I am a little bit on this particular blog (although perhaps that says something about my own naivete).

That said, I really dislike how we continually have to point out when a "boy" doesn't look like a "boy" or when a "girl" doesn't look like a "girl." I also think the evidence the authors offer is just odd. So Shiloh likes to be called John? I have a 3-year-old, and Wild Man routinely announces, "Mommy, we're playing a game today. Now you must call me X." Typically he wants to be Gloria, the hippo from the movie Madagascar, with whom he is completely in love. He had everyone call him Gloria for an entire month last year. And he also likes to wear my high heels with C's ties and occasionally he asks to wear "sparkles" (make-up). I've also painted his nails, at his request. Do I think this means he wants to be a girl? No, I don't. But if I did, would I care? Only insofar as I would see it as my job to help him make that transition so he could be a happy and fulfilled individual. Here's the thing: kids experiment. One day, Wild Man wants to be a mommy and nurse his dinosaurs, and the next day he wants to be a superhero and fight the mean guys. So I applaud Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie for allowing their kids to be who they want to be, knowing that they and their children will have to deal with stupid articles like this one.

Academic Mothering

At the conference I attended this past weekend, I went to a panel titled "The Maternal Wall and Strategies of Resistance and Empowerment for Mothers in Academe." Since then, I've been thinking about what it means to be an academic mother (or an academic father) for that matter a lot (as an aside, this is something I think about fairly often given the fact that I am an academic and a mother). One paper in particular resonated with me, and I'm going to attempt to distill the paper's argument.

The paper, which was entitled "Knowing When to Pretend and When to Refuse: Exploring the Complex Struggle of Pretending and Refusing to be an Ideal Academic Worker," argued that academic mothers have to stop pretending to be ideal workers. We have to know when to play the game (i.e., to present ourselves as ideal workers) and when to not play the game. One way this presenter does this is that she refuses to pretend that the familial sacrifices she makes aren't difficult. She also invokes her status as a mother when she simply cannot do something that a colleague needs (or perhaps demands) that she do. That this is a woman who works at a major Northeast research institution made her argument more significant for me. What she said made a lot of sense, and she even extended her argument to academic fathers, arguing that men also have to stop pretending.

But as she presented her paper, I had a nagging question that was making me a bit sick to my stomach. In a room full of academic women, many of whom were grad students, I was not the only one who wondered, "how does this theory work when one is on the job market?" After all, I've been told over and over again to keep my "private" life private when I'm on the market. I have assumed I would not mention my husband or my children until I have a job offer in hand. And this is the precise advice that this presenter gave when several of us asked this question. Then I thought, ok, so I have to pretend to get the job, which is just what I figured.

Then a woman raised her hand and said "I did just that, and it had disastrous consequences." This woman said she never mentioned being married or having a young child until she arrived on campus the summer before she was scheduled to begin teaching. When her colleagues discovered she had a family, several, particularly those on the search committee, became hostile, and more than one shunned her. When the woman said she couldn't attend meetings after 4:00 because of her son, her department chair told her that if he'd known she had a young child he would never have offered her the job. So, here is a woman, who played the interview game correctly, secured the job, and then was treated like a pariah by her department because they felt she'd "betrayed" them in the interview process by not divulging the secrets of her personal life. Needless to say, this story made my nausea return.

Several other women (and the only man who attended the panel) pointed out that it may be more advantageous to be honest during the course of an interview about one's marital and family status, if only to avoid taking a job in an environment that isn't family friendly. And while this makes a lot of sense to me, I'm still not sure I want to tell people "Hey, just so you know, my husband is an academic, and I have two young kids. If you don't like me for those reasons, you probably shouldn't offer me the job." I left the panel still unsure how to handle this situation, should I ever experience it first hand.

As many women at the panel, a lot of whom were tenured profs with children at large research universities, panel pointed out, this is an institutional problem. In fact, as many described situations in which their deans denied their maternity leave, I never felt happier to be living outside the U.S. But, while this is an institutional problem, it is also a problem that I (and many, many of my good friends) am likely to face personally sooner rather than later. I want an academic job, of that I have never been more sure in my entire graduate career. In fact, I have fallen more in love with my topic, with writing, and with research in the last few months. I am excited both to teach and to research, but I also want to have a life outside of academia. I want a job that offers me research support AND that gives me room to be a wife and a mother. I'm not naive enough to think I "can have it all," as I know that I will often have to sacrifice academic progress to be with my family and vice versa. I know it is possible to do this because I know lots of women who do it, my adviser included. What I want to know is why does it continue to be so damn hard for both academic mothers and fathers.

A proud parenting moment

Today, we made our weekly trip to Costco--yes, I know we live an exciting life here in CU Land! Wild Man has taken the opportunity of turning this weekly trip into his weekly excuse into conning Mommy and Daddy into buying him a hot dog. Today was no different as the moment we pulled into the parking lot, Wild Man announced "I need a hot dog." We've actually gotten into the habit of planning this trip around lunch time, so we're generally willing to accommodate his request, as we were today.

As we made our way through the parking lot, Wild Man asked both C and I to run with him, so we did. Once we got to the store, however, I told him he had to stop running so he wouldn't get run over because the entrance to the store was mobbed. Being 2, Wild Man didn't want to listen, and said "I run, Mommy. You just hold my hand." When I told him no, he again tried to run. So C picked him up and carried him inside the store. This really annoyed Wild Man, although he tolerated it fairly well. He did tell C, "I no want you, I want Mommy." C asked him if he wanted a hot dog, which, of course, Wild Man answered affirmatively, but he also reiterated that he didn't want C. So while C got himself and Wild Man a hot dog, I took Wild Man with me to the bathroom.

Once we got in the stall, Wild Man began hitting the wall and grunting. I asked him what was wrong. He didn't answer, but kept hitting the wall. So I asked him "Are you mad at Daddy?" He said "Yes, I mad at Daddy." When I asked him why, he said "I want to run." I told him he needed to tell his father how he felt. After we washed our hands and returned to the snack bar, Wild Man told C "I mad at you, Daddy." C looked at me, but I just shook my head, indicating he was going to have to talk to Wild Man about it. C asked why, and Wild Man explained the best he could, although as a proud mother, I have to say I think he explained his feeling quite well.

To be quite honest, I wasn't 100% sure how C would react. At times, he can be short with Wild Man, especially when it comes to Wild Man not listening. And C had picked him up and carried him into the store precisely because Wild Man wasn't listening. C, however, said "I'm sorry I made you mad, but I needed you to listen and to get out of the other people's way. I picked you up because I was afraid you would get hurt. Thank you for telling me how you feel. I'm proud of you for sharing your feelings so well." This is the first time that Wild Man has verbalized his anger like this; generally, he responds as most toddlers do--he cries or he hits one of us. C and I are both really proud that he was able to articulate his feelings so clearly. And I'm really proud that C responded as he did. I feel certain that C never expressed any anger toward his father ever, and I feel equally certain that if he had his father would not have responded so positively. After this exchange, Wild Man happily ate his hot dog!

A little sad

I have to say, I was a little sad yesterday. Sad that it was Wild Man's second birthday, sad that time seems to be flying by with him, sad that he seems to be just a little less interested in snuggling with me, and sad that he is quite pleased to do things for himself. In fact, the new mantra around our home is "I do myself, Mommy!" or "No help, Daddy! I big boy." It is a strange sense of sadness though, as it is mixed with equal parts of pride and awe. I'm proud that C and I have managed to help Wild Man become an independent little guy, who asks the toughest questions and expects answers, and I'm proud of the person he is becoming--thoughtful, stubborn, considerate, and funny. I remain in awe of the fact that we made him, yet he is figuring out, at a relatively young age, how to negotiate the world on his own. When I'm putting him to bed and he tells me "Mommy, today was good," I feel like we're doing something right.