Visitors, or Why I'm not sure I want my mom to visit

Now that I have defended (and should be completing my fairly minor revisions), I feel like I can think about Z's arrival, which is about 5 weeks away, give or take. I'm getting a bit stressed out, and I'm not sure how to combat or even to deal with that stress. I'm not worried about having a second child. Ok, let me try that again. I feel like C and I know what to do with a newborn. As I've blogged countless times, Wild Man was a difficult newborn. His inablity to sleep more than 45 minutes a time for 2 months combined with his colic and with the fact that C's dad died less than 24 hours after Wild Man was born made his first few months incredibly stressful. Given that experience, I feel like we will be up for the challenge of a newborn in a few weeks. C and I have already talked about handling the workload and how we will divide responsibilities, especially night duty. Since I'll be nursing, I'll take the night shift, which means he'll have to get up with Wild Man so that Z and I can sleep in a bit. We're hoping Wild Man's schedule won't get disrupted too much, but we've talked about things enough that I feel fairly confident that we'll be able to manage.

We're expecting quite a few visitors in the weeks following Z's birth, and I'm not altogether certain how I feel about visitors. My mom will come first, and she'll stay with us for 2 weeks. Now, I don't blog about my mom a lot for a variety of reasons, the primary being that my feelings about my mother are so conflicted that it is just easier to complain about C's mom than it is to confront my feelings about my mom. How's that one for honest? If I had had Z and Wild Man 10 years ago, I would not have been stressed at all about my mom's visit. 10 years ago I could have told her to take over cooking and entertaining Wild Man, and I would have been confident in her abilities to do so. But my mom has changed drastically in the past 10 years. She has always struggled with depression, and about 5 years ago she was diagnosed as bi-polar 2. This means that she has the highs and lows associated with bi-polar, but that her mood fluctuations are easier to predict and they don't require her to be hospitalized. It took me a long time to come to terms with this diagnosis, and it took me even longer to come to terms with my mom's way of coping. She has avoided therapy in favor of a traditional psychiatrist, whom she sees once a month. She is on a number of medications, and they change quite frequently. In the first 3 years following her diagnosis (which included the year Wild Man was born), my mom also believed she suffered from panic attacks.

Rather than try to determine what caused the panic attacks and figure out how to cope with them without medication, my mom elected to take medication. Some days she would take as many as 4 pills in her attempt to get her panic attacks to stop. She was open about this and never understood why I (and my sister) was totally aghast at this. Well, I've suffered from panic attacks, and I was on an anti-anxiety medication for about 6 months while I learned, with the help of a therapist, how to manage my anxiety. I learned what sorts of things would trigger a panic attack and I developed ways of dealing with the anxiety that did not include medication. When I saw my mom pop 4 pills in the span of an hour, I was seriously disturbed. As a result of all the medication she was taking my mom became rather like a zombie. She was listless, inattentive, constantly tired, and not really present. This was in stark contrast to the mom I grew up with, who was constantly on the go, talkative, empathetic, and very present. My mom on anti-anxiety medication was not my mom, and I really mourned the loss of this person. About a year and a half ago, after my dad, my brother, my sister, and I had had many conversations about Mom's mental health and I argued that she needed to consult a new psychiatrist because I truly believed she was overmedicated or self-medicating, my dad observed my mom in the throes of what she called a panic attack. She said her chest hurt, but she wasn't distressed in any other way. My dad and I had recently had a lenghthy conversation about the symptoms I suffered from while I was having a panic attack--shortness of breath, inability to sit still, tightness in my chest and arms, among other tings--and he noticed she wasn't having any of these symptoms. When she asked him to bring him her medicine, he instead brought her seltzer water. He told her to drink as much as she could in 2 minutes and see what happened. He said if she didn't start feeling better then he'd get her pills. Amazingly my mom did as he asked; after she chugged the soda, she let out this amazing burp and said she felt better. The next day my dad drug my mom to her GP, who ran some tests. Her panic attacks were, in fact, a tear in her esophagus; my mom had severe heartburn. Her psychiatrist took away her anti-axiety meds, and slowly my mom started to come back. She is not the same as she was when I was younger, but she is certainly more present. She continues to have her good days and her bad days, but mostly she has good days.

I shared all this for a few reasons. First, I'm still trying to come to terms with my mom's diagnosis. Second, Wild Man was born in the midst of all this, about 9 months before my dad figured out my mom didn't have panic attacks, but that she was abusing her anti-axiety meds. She stayed with us for 2 weeks then, with the result being that I was caring for 2 infants. Mom would cry at the drop of a hat, or she'd sit on the couch and stare off into space for an hour at a time. Needless to say, she wasn't much help, and I was glad when she left. Her behavior was so disturbing to C that he refused to leave Wild Man alone in her care, and I found that I couldn't really argue with him given her level of awareness at the time.

Since then I feel like my mom has come back, at least mostly. She is still slow (literally, physically slow), and she still does things very methodically. It takes her a long time to complete the most ordinary tasks, like folding laundry or making dinner. She has no awareness of the outside world, as she prefers to watch reruns of "Law and Order" over the news. She is still not the take charge woman who mothered me. Instead when she visits, which is rare, she asks for instruction on everything--how to make Wild Man's breakfast, what clothes he should wear, what games he likes to play. While some of these questions are understandable, my mom doesn't ask them just once, but every time I ask her to do something for Wild Man. I'm concerned she will be no help after Z's birth and that I will find myself resenting her presence and trying to control my anger toward her--unsuccessfully. The truth of the matter is that I desperately miss my mother, or the person that I remember my mother to be. And that is the person that I want to show up after Z is born: the woman who did things without asking, the woman who was in charge and whom no one questioned, the woman who took care of me. Instead, I'm afraid this new mother will show up, the one I don't really know how to deal with, the one that I end up parenting. I'm afraid this visit will go very much like the visit following Wild Man's birth, where I found myself crying in the bathroom while I held my newborn. I wasn't crying out of depression or exhaustion; I was crying because I missed my mom, even though she was just downstairs. I know that I will have less patience with this visit because this time, I have two children to care for. My mom's ostensible purpose during this visist is to care for Wild Man, to play with him, and to keep him entertained while I care for Z and C takes care of the house. As excited as I was when she made her reservations, I am now deeply regretting asking her to stay for 2 weeks.

Home

I got home yesterday, although I left Southwest College Town on Saturday. C surprised me by reserving a hotel room for us on Saturday night, which meant we didn't have to drive back to CU Land on Saturday night. The three of us had a nice dinner and hung out in the hotel room. Then yesterday we went shopping and had a nice lunch before driving back to CU Land. It was a quiet, relaxing day, which is exactly what the three of us needed after being apart for almost a week. I have to say, seeing Wild Man run to me from across the airport was just as wonderful as hearing my adviser say I'd passed my defense. He proudly presented me with a Mother's Day present--a very pretty bead bracelet that he'd made himself at school. As wonderful as it was to be with all of my friends and to defend, it was more wonderful to be back with my boys again. Wild Man and I are spending the day together, and then tomorrow, I get back to work. I'm giving myself 2 weeks to finish all my revisions, although I'm hoping it will take less time. Then C and I begin the arduous task of organizing closets and making other final preparations for Z's arrival. Only 5 1/2 weeks to go. . .

I passed!

That sums it up for now. I have lots of thoughts on the defense itself, but for now, I'm exhausted, literally and mentally--although I'm also oddly energized mentally. I received lots of great feedback at the defense, and I am excited to put a lot of the suggestions into my dissertation. Luckily none of the revisions are major, at least not for the dissertation. I got lots of great suggestions for "the book," and overall, the defense itself went much smoother than I ever could have anticipated.

Everyone warned me that it would feel oddly anti-climatic, but I have to say, it feels pretty good.

By 4:30 this afternoon. . .

I will have defended my dissertation.

It feels very weird to be having this experience, and it feels doubly weird to have it while C and Wild Man are in CU Land. They are the ones I most want to see at 4:30. I will have to settle for dinner out with my adviser at a fairly swanky restaurant, followed by a small party of some of my best friends tomorrow--including a dear friend who is defending this morning. C has dropped enough hints for me to know he has something planned for my return, but not enough that I have been able to figure it out. . .

Annoying children

I wrote this yesterday, but I didn't get a chance to post it until today.

Ok, so I’m a mom, and I have taken Wild Man on many, many plane rides. I understand how difficult it can be to keep an infant quiet or to keep a toddler occupied. Generally, I’m sympathetic to the kids and parents, especially when the parent is traveling alone on a long flight with his or her child. But if the little girl behind me kicks my seat one more time, I think I’m going to rip her foot off. I’ve been trying to work on my defense presentation for the duration of the flight, and on more than one occasion I’ve found myself typing snippets of the very loud conversation that mother and daughter are having. I’m getting increasingly annoyed, and I really want to turn around and ask them to use their “inside voices.” This little girl is about four, so she should know what an inside voice is. And her mother, who has had her Chanel sunglasses on for the entire flight, should definitely know how an inside voice is. . .

Still here

No, I haven't dropped off the face of the earth. I've just been swamped with grading, last minute dissertation stuff, and organizing the house in advance of my mother-in-law's arrival. We have managed to squeeze in some fun, including a trip to the nearest zoo. Wild Man had a ball, and he especially loved seeing the hippos. The kid is obsessed with hippos, so he was quite pleased to see two up close and personal. I'll post more once I wrap my head around the fact that I am defending in less than a week. . .

A little annoyed

Given the problems some of my friends (real and bloggy) have had with their advisers, I always hesitate to complain about mine. On an average day, she is wonderful. She is precisely what I needed in terms of an adviser; she takes a back seat approach to my research and writing, but when I need her, she immediately steps up. She provides great feedback and is a wonderful editor. On top of all that, we think and work a lot alike, so the relationship has been a great one. That said, she is an associate dean, and I am the last student whom she will be a dissertation adviser for. Her job as a dean means she's often out of town or hard to pin down for meetings. Given that I'm finishing from distances and about 90% of our communication for the past 9 months has occurred through email and Facebook, this hasn't been a problem. There have been a few times, however, that she hasn't gotten back to me quickly. This tends to happen when she has a week that is jam-packed with meetings. When she does answer, she is always apologetic and helpful. I usually just go with the flow, but this week, I'm not feeling so understanding. I've sent her 4 emails in the last 10 days or so, and I havent' heard anything from her at all. The emails were fairly important too--at least as far as I'm concerned! In one I asked for direction about a conclusion--specifically whether I need to try to write one before my defense, which is in two weeks; in the other I asked about including images of Edith Wharton's home The Mount in my chapter on Wharton. This one isn't so major as we can decide later, but it would be nice to go ahead and start talking to the people at The Mount to get permission to use images of the house. I've sent each email again, and still haven't heard anything. I'm fairly certain she's in town b/c I haven't received the typical response to my emails indicating that she is out of town. So what do I do? C has advised me to let it go; I can't address either issue without her input, so he thinks I should just wait until I do hear from her. If I don't have a conclusion, it isn't my fault, according to his theory. But two of my other committee members have already asked about a conclusion. . . I think I'll give her until tomorrow and then I start pestering again.

It is official

I just sent my introduction to my committee. They now have a complete copy of my entire dissertation. Well, they have everything but the bibliography. I need to make some minor changes to it, and I will send that to them later today. I must say, this feels very, very odd.

Bonus!

Apparently there is a bonus to getting a doctorate in English, especially when your dissertation focuses on gender issues. Thus far, I've applied for part-time teaching in 3 departments at CU: English, Women's Studies (applying is a formality; I know I'll be teaching one course in the fall), and Writing.

That makes me feel better about my prospects for employment next year.

Labor worries

It's 6:30 in the morning, and I'm up early, as usual, to get some work done before C and Wild Man wake up. But I've been up much longer than usual this morning, and I haven't been working. I've been worrying about labor. I'm finding it odd that I'm worried about labor with my second pregnancy since I wasn't really worried about labor when I carried Wild Man. I have quite a few concerns this time, though, and most of them are connected to my ability to have another unmedicated birth.

I'm worried because I haven't done any of the preparation I did when I was carrying Wild Man. My whole world has centered around my dissertation and taking care of my son that I haven't set aside the time to prepare my body for labor. This concerns me, and apparently, as he revealed at our most recent appointment with my midwife, it concerns C too. With Wild Man, we took Bradley Method classes, we did relaxation exercises every day for about 5 months, and I exercised daily. This time around, I've managed to start walking as the weather has gotten warmer, and I certainly spend a lot of time chasing Wild Man. Other than that, I think we've practiced our relaxation techniques twice, and I haven't done any of the ab or back exercises I did last time. I have been doing kegels quite regularly, so that's a bonus. I'm not worried about my mental ability to handle the pain. But I'm really worried about my stamina. I'm just not in the physical shape I was in when I carried Wild Man. I'm worried if I have a really long labor I'll get exhausted.

C and I talked about this some last night, as well as with my midwife. We have come up with some solutions. She thinks its fine for me to start exercising more now, and by exercising more she means taking walks. As she put it, it's a bit late in my pregnancy to start doing more than that, especially given how many braxton-hicks contractions I'm already having. C also broke out our Bradley Method book last night and started re-reading it. He asked me a lot of questions about what worked for me last time in terms of pain management, and he pointed out a few things that didn't work. Starting this weekend, I'm going to make more time for me--even if that means I set aside 20 minutes--to do my exercises. This is something that is really important to me, almost as important as finishing the dissertation. So I need to quit worrying about it and do some things to get prepared.

It's official . . .

I no longer have a belly button. In fact, this morning as I got dressed Wild Man noticed and asked, "Mommy, what happened to your belly button?"

To Committee

I just sent off my Wharton chapter, which means my committee now has all three chapters. I have a week to get out the introduction. I managed to put together 5 pages yesterday, and I am feeling confident about today's progress.

For the first time, I think I may actually accomplish this. . .

After . . .

almost two years (not consecutively, but still) of working on my Wharton chapter, it is finally finished. Sure it tops out at 70 pages, and I could still say more. But it's done. I'm treating myself to lunch, and then I'm going to hit the introduction this afternoon.

I think . . .

the end is in sight.

A note to the obnoxious men I encountered at Starbucks yesterday

On days when Wild Man is home with us, as he was yesterday, I've gotten into the habit of leaving the house as soon as he goes down for a nap and heading over to the nearest Starbucks to get some work done. I generally find a quiet spot and work for a few hours. Yesterday I followed my routine, with one exception. My usual Starbucks was packed, so I headed over to one a few blocks away. There were plenty of open tables, so I didn't have a hard time finding a spot. I got a cup of tea and quickly started working. About an hour in two men sat near me. Now, I totally get that I was working in a public place and that I have to put up with some amount of conversation and noise. I'm cool with that. I've even gotten quite good at blocking it out. I'll also credit most of my fellow patrons. When they see my papers, books, and laptop spread out on a table, most seem to get I'm working, and they also seem to understand I'm not an undergrad (perhaps the big pregnant belly gives it away?!). They are respectful of my space, and it seems that most make an effort to keep their conversations to themselves. These two men, however, were among the most obnoxious I have ever encountered at any Starbucks, so here are a few tips for them.

• The entire store does not care about your summer travel plans. We are especially not interested in hearing an account of the wonders of Vienna, with frequent reminders to your friend, that while you clearly know how wonderful it is you have never been there.
• We are equally uninterested in hearing how pedantic Florida is. You're entitled to your opinion, but the barista doesn't want to hear it over the screech of the steamer.
• Don't list all the horrific things about CU Land, at least not at a level that would entertain everyone in Carnegie Hall.
  
• All in all, here's a tip: be mindful of your environment and respectful of others. Sure, have the conversation you want to have and sit where you want to sit, but don't shout your conversation. I'm quite sure you're life is wonderful, but frankly, I don't want to hear about it.
  

I love my husband

For weeks I've been telling C we need a night out. We did manage a brief one in February before I left for my conference. His mom and sister were here, so after Wild Man went to bed, we went out--at night! I can't remember the last time we did that. The evening itself wasn't very exciting. We went to a local restaurant, sat in the bar, and talked. But it was nice to be out of the house at a time when we're usually in our pjs, watching TV, or working on our computers.

In the past few months, C has gotten several last minute invites from colleagues to go out. The invitations always include me, but they are issued so late that it makes it impossible to get a babysitter. Sometimes C goes, and sometimes he doesn't. This week one of his colleagues, whom I like a lot, sent him an email invite for a party this coming weekend. I didn't think a lot about it when C mentioned it because, frankly, I'm in a dissertation haze.

Well, last night at dinner, he brought up the party again and asked if I wanted to do. I said, well, sure, it sounds like fun, but it's Wednesday. I doubt we can get a babysitter. He said, we already have one. It seems he called Dr. Nice Guy's eldest son, who has sat for Wild Man before, the day he received the invite and lined it all up. I love that he did this for me. I am so excited that I might even wear a dress!

Diaper Bag: Pink or Black

In my on-going saga of what diaper bag to buy, I've finally decided on the one I want. I was even on the verge of purchasing it tonight. But then I looked at one more site in my quest to get the best possible price, and I discovered it comes in a new pattern. So now I have a new dilemma: do I get the desired diaper bag in a neutral black, or do I get it in a fun pink pattern with brown accents? I'm not inclined to get the pink pattern because Z will be a girl. I actually really like the pink! I have to decide soon as I want to have it shipped to my mother-in-law to save on international shipping, and she can bring it to CU Land when she visits in May.

Pants

I really wish I didn't have to be on campus today. It would be much easier to work if I wasn't wearing pants.

This just in . . .

being a mom and writing a dissertation is really, really hard.

Early mornings

For the past 2 weeks or so, I've been getting up between 6 and 6:30 in an attempt to have some quiet time to work. I think better in the morning, so this is a practice that has worked for me in the past. Even if I'm only about to stake out 30 minutes for myself I use that time to map out my day and figure out what needs to be done. This worked for the first week or so, and then Wild Man started waking up about 15 minutes after me.

In the past few months we have worked out lots of sleeping issues with him (sorry, I'm not blogging about any of these issues because as soon as I do, Wild Man will regress and we'll have to tackle them all over again!). The one issue that we haven't worked out is the fact that he wants me first thing in the morning. This isn't helped by the fact that C is virtually impossible to get up in the morning. If I let Wild Man holler until C woke up, I'd be listening to him holler for at least 15 minutes! So the past few mornings, Wild Man has joined me when I get up early to work. In fact, as I type this, he is watching "Thomas the Tank Engine." So this hasn't been the most productive of mornings, but at least I was greeted with Wild Man saying, "I love you, Mommy," when I walked into his room a little while ago.

Little feet make it hard to work

So far this morning, I've added 3 pages to my restructured intro to my third chapter. I just finished lunch and am about to make some serious progress toward today's goal: revising 15 pages of the chapter. I have one little problem. I have a pair of little feet (at least I think they are feet) sticking into my ribs. It hurts to sit, it hurts to stand, it just hurts. I've tried everything I can think of to get Z to move, but she is not budging. So I continue to work, taking frequent breaks to rub my painful ribs. . .

I hope this is a good thing. . .

The head of the English Department just emailed me to let me know that the job ads are going up in the next few days. He then added. "I really look forward to receiving your application." It isn't a promise, I know, but it does make me feel slightly more optimistic than I felt earlier today.

Just one more thing. . .

This morning I got up early to get some work done, and before I started revising a new section, I checked my email. I had wonderful news awaiting me, let me tell you. It seems that CU has finally finalized the undergraduate budget for 2009-2010. Dr. Feminist emailed me late last night to find out if I could teach in the Spring rather than the Fall and to let me know the jobs would be posted soon (even though the course has been "promised" to me, I still have to apply for it). I emailed her back and told her that the switch wouldn't be a problem, and I then asked her if this meant that I wouldn't be getting one course each term. I told C about this on the way to school today, and he, of course, got stressed out. My teaching in the Fall had been the basis of our decision for him to take parental leave in the fall to be home with Z. If I'm not teaching, it may make more sense for me to take leave for more than just the summer, and then he could take leave in the Spring.

This creates somewhat of a financial mess for us, though. While C will get 95% of his pay, I will only receive 55% of mine because I'm only a part-time employee. This means our monthly income will drop by about $1,000, and that is the money that pays for Wild Man's school. If I don't teach in the Fall, we have to pull Wild Man out of school; there is absolutely no way around this, unless I am able to find a full-time job (which means I wouldn't be teaching). Frankly, the thought of going back to fundraising or grant writing makes me want to vomit. I loved both when I did them, but I didn't spend the last 6 years of my life in grad school, busting my ass to get my Ph.D. so I could go back to grant writing. I know that it would only be temporary, and I also know that since I've done it before I could do it again (assuming, of course, I could even find a job). But add to my extreme desire not to do it the fact that I'm having a baby in June. Doing something other than teaching would seriously limit the time I get with Z. I am fully aware how lucky I've been that my work, thus far, enables me to spend so much time with Wild Man. I never take that for granted. This is one of the reasons I like academia so much. Yes, we send him to daycare 4 days a week for 7 hours a day, but when he is home with us, one of us is always present. The very nature of our work makes that possible. I can't imagine working 40 hours a week and being away from a newborn for all that time. I can't. The thought of it makes me burst into tears (in fact, there I go again).

So for now, I continue to hope that by some miracle of miracles I will get part-time teaching in the fall in another department. I continue to hope that the head of the English department, who was so wonderful when I met him in December, proves to be as wonderful as I originally thought.

And somehow in the midst of all this crap, I keep working on my dissertation. . .

Wild Man's quote of the week

Yesterday, as I read up on the development of apartments, C kept Wild Man amused by coloring with him. This essentially means that C draws whatever Wild Man tells him to. Wild Man is obsessed with hippos--I blame it on the Madagascar movies. This kid loves hippos, and most hippos are Gloria. He, of course, commanded C to draw "Gloria, Gloria's mommy, and Gloria's daddy." Once C complied, Wild Man took the paper from C and studied the drawings. He then looked up at C and said, "Daddy, Gloria needs a penis."

I laughed so hard I cried.

One more thing

I am not writing a "paper." I am writing a dissertation. If I have to explain this to my mother one more time or ask her not to refer to my dissertation as a "paper," I will lose my mind. I don't understand why it is so hard for her to understand that it is much, much more than a paper. She's seen C's, for God's sake! She knows how long his was, and I've told her several times (because she's asked) that mine is longer. I know that in the grand scheme of things this is a very small thing. But it bothers the hell out of me, especially given the fact that I have told her how much it annoys me when she asks me "How's your paper coming?" She just called, as she does most Sunday afternoons, and she asked me this question. Given her response to my announcement about my defense, I wasn't in the mood to talk about my work with her, and I most certainly was not in the mood to have the project I've been working on for 3 years referred to as "a paper" yet again.

I will now return to taking notes on the history of apartments in New York City.

Random Annoyances

I want to begin this post by saying that I feel really thankful for my friends, both virtual and actual. I have received so much support from them in the past year. I literally could not have made it through moving to CU Land, working so long and so hard on my dissertation, carrying Z, and living life in general with out them. So I want them to know (and I think you know who you are!) that what follows is not at all about them.

The end of my week seemed to have a theme: people I really care about all managed to annoy me. I should add that the particular people who annoyed me have annoyed me in these precise ways in the past, so I know it will happen again. Usually I can shake these sorts of things off fairly easily, but this week I am having a hard time getting past it. I'm hoping that by writing about it, I'll feel better.


Annoyance #1
*Edited b/c, for some reason, I'm not comfortable with making this annoyance so public.

Annoyance #2 and #3
I'm annoyed with my mom and sister for the exact same reason, so I figured I'd put them together.

First, I totally get that neither my mom nor my sister understands what it means to get a Ph.D. They just don't. They try, but it is just outside their realm of experience. I've accepted that this means that they will never be as excited about my accomplishments as I am, and 95% of the time, I'm ok with that. This week, however, was a really big week for me. I finally got the go ahead to schedule my defense. My adviser is confident enough in what I've already finished that she thinks what I'm still working on will match it. This means the six year journey I've been on is rapidly coming to an end. This also means that my decision to have kids while working on my dissertation did not affect my work. In fact, my adviser recently told me how much my writing has improved in the last year, which she attributed to how focused I've had to become since having Wild Man.

When I called my mom to tell her this, I didn't expect a huge reaction, but I did expect at least a congratulations, M! I'm really proud of you. Instead she said this: "Well, are you sure you should be traveling then? That's only about 6 weeks before your due. Really, M, I don't understand your priorities. Can't the defense wait another semester?" HELLO! No, it can't wait another semester. It has to happen now. I have to go on the job market in the fall. C and I want to solidify our positions (or at least try to) at CU, and none of that can happen if I'm ABD. I just can't. And, frankly, we can't afford to pay my fees for another semester, especially not with a second baby on the way. I was so upset by her response that I truly didn't know what to say. I just said, "I've cleared it with my midwife; she thinks I'll be fine to travel. It is, of course, a risk, but it is a risk I'm willing to take." I then changed the subject.

When I told my sister, through email, she didn't even acknowledge it. Instead she sent me a long email about how she hates her job and how she thinks she's inherited all of our mother's mental issues (our mom is bipolar). What bothers me most about this is that my sister is on Facebook, so she knew when I'd scheduled the defense even before I told her. Given FB's crazy new interface, she also saw all my friends congratulate me. Still, she said nothing.

To give credit where credit is due, my dad told me he is very proud of me and that he wants a bound copy of my dissertation to put next to his copy of C's. In fact, he said, "I really like having a bound copy of C's, but I will be taking yours to work and telling everyone: Look, my daughter wrote this." The funny thing is, my dad will actually read my dissertation and will talk to me about it. He read C's, and they had a long conversation about it. My dad may not always be the physical presence that I need, but he doesn't hesitate to tell me when he's proud of me. C's mom even offered some sincere congratulations, telling me it will be nice to have a doctor for a daughter-in-law. I just wish my mom and sister had stepped up.

Fancy Shoes

Wild Man has recently become enamored of my high heels. He loves to put them on and clomp around in them when we're getting ready in the morning and right before bath time. He particularly enjoys this black, pointy-toe pair. He enjoys them so much, in fact, he insisted upon wearing them last night as he went to the bathroom. Given all my posts on boys and gender, I had to share this one!

*Please note: this photo has disappeared.

Proof that I am, in fact, pregnant

Given yesterday's post, I thought I'd post a belly shot as a reminder to myself that I am, in fact, almost 7 months pregnant.

Oh, right, I'm having a baby. . .

Yesterday I ran into a colleague whom I haven't seen since the beginning of the semester. She teaches part-time in the Women's Studies department at CU, just as I do, so when we do see each other we always have a lot to talk about. Well, the last time she saw me I wasn't showing nearly as much as I am now, and I'm fairly certain I was sitting down. Yesterday I was in the Women's Studies office making some copies when she walked in. I had my back to her, and as I turned around she said, "Wow, M! I didn't think it had been that long since we've seen each other!" She then offered her congratulations and we chatted for a few minutes.

I ran into her about an hour later just as I was leaving our office (I share the office with this colleague and 3 others). She apologized for not realizing I was pregnant, and I said something like, "Oh, don't worry about it. I actually haven't told a lot of people, and to be honest, I've been so focused on my dissertation that sometimes I even forget myself." She then asked, "When are you due?" Without pausing, I said "May 6th." She replied, "That's soon! Are you ready?" And I said, "Well, I'm revising my last chapter and working on my introdcution." She looked totally puzzled, and I suddenly realized she was asking about the baby, not the dissertation or my defense. I laughed and explained what I meant and then clarified that I'm not due until mid-June.

I guess I should try harder to remember I'm having a baby as well as writing a dissertation. . .

A Defense Date

All of a sudden I'm feeling more than a little sick to my stomach. I've gotten my entire committee to agree on one of two dates for my defense. I can now pick the date that works best for me. I think I might be sick.

Annoying Questions

In the past few days, I've gotten a string of annoying questions from both my mom and from C's mom. Every single question revolves around Z's sex. I swear we didn't get any questions like this when I was pregnant with Wild Man. I'm starting to regret that we found out Z's sex as it seems to be the only thing our moms can think about. Here are a sampling of the questions.

• Are you sure Z's a girl? If Yetta asks this question one more time I will transport myself through the phone and strangle her.
• Are you buying girly things for her? This seems to be my mom's favorite as she asks it almost every time we talk. I give my standard answer: Well, we haven't bought much at all to be honest. We have a lot of stuff leftover from Wild Man, which is mostly yellow, green, and white. But we have got a few things that are clearly for a girl.
  
• Can I buy her (fill in the blank here)? Again, this is my mom and I give my standard answer: You can buy her whatever you want, Mom. Note: I only give my mom this answer as my mom is infinitely practical with gifts. My mom rarely buys toys for her grandkids, and when she does, she will only do so when they are with her. I would never tell Yetta this as I'd wind up with a room full of Madame Alexander dolls. I appreciate that my mom wants to ensure we'll use whatever she buys Z, but I get tired of answering this question over and over again.
  
• What is Z turns out to be a boy? Both moms are asking this question incessantly. I'm so annoyed by the implications of this question that I can't even answer it. I just ignore it. I mean seriously, the sex isn't important to us. As I've said before, we've started thinking of Z as a girl, so it will mean revamping our thinking. But I know as soon as we see the baby we'll be so happy to hold Z in our arms that we won't care if she has a vagina or if he has a penis.
• Do you think you will have another ultrasound? This one has become Yetta's new favorite. She is very invested in having a granddaughter, so she seems to want some sort of guarantee that Z is, in fact, 100% girl. While C and I won't be disappointed if Z turns out to be a boy, I know that Yetta will, and that makes me very, very sad.
  

Lest anyone think I'm being overly hormonal or altogether unreasonable, I'm actually quite happy to talk about Z with either my mom or C's mom, and most of their questions don't annoy me at all. It is just starting to feel as though they are both hung up on her sex--Yetta because she wants a granddaughter so desperately and my mom because she's afraid I'm going to be disappointed.

A Frustrating Monday

Mondays, in general, are difficult at our house. Wild Man is home with us, effectively giving us a three-day weekend. I really like the extra time I get with Wild Man, and we always try to do something fun, even if we don't leave the house. When we first moved to CU Land, I tried to do limit the time I work on Mondays to Wild Man's naptime, but as the deadline for my dissertation defense draws closer, I've had to spend the better part of Monday working while C and Wild Man do other stuff. Typically, C doesn't have to be on campus on Mondays, and as a rule, he doesn't schedule meetings on Mondays so he can stay home while I work. Today, however, he was supposed to go to campus to attend a ceremony for one of his honors students. Since he was going to be on campus anyway, he agreed to meet with two students shortly before the ceremony. I knew about this well in advance, so, although I wasn't happy with it, I was prepared for it. We had agreed that he would take Wild Man out to the park or the indoor playground for the morning while I worked. C would then help get Wild Man down for a nap before heading to campus for the rest of the afternoon.

Well, on Friday, C received an email saying the ceremony had been rescheduled for Tuesday. As soon as he told me of the change, I asked him if he could reschedule his other meetings so I could have more than a few hours to work. Well, in the rush of Friday afternoon (he had a lecture and a reception to attend), he forgot to email his students, and by the time he remembered, he felt like it was too late to reschedule. I would have preferred he rescheduled, but whatever. I had already planned for the day, so it wasn't a huge issue.

Let's say it has become a huge issue. Out of a day in which I was promised a solid 3 hours of work before C had to leave and Wild Man had to go down for a nap, I got an hour and a half, which was interrupted 3 times (each time, Wild Man and C were coming in or out of the house; now that my office is on the ground floor, I have to deal with these sorts of interruptions if I'm working while they're home). On top of that, Wild Man refused to go down for his nap easily, and although he is now asleep, he took 45 minutes to get down. Instead of helping with naptime, as he promised he would, C did some prep for his meetings. When I expressed my frustration, he had the audacity to say, "I don't understand what's wrong. I took Wild Man out to the park so you could get work done."

Today's lesson: go to Starbucks to get work done rather than stay at home.

Wild Man-isms

Here are some of the hilarious and thoughtful things Wild Man has said recently.

• Mommy, I just peed on Daddy.
• What are these, Mommy? (said as he washes his testicles while taking a bath)
• Mommy, where's your penis?
• I have to fart.
• My bum itches.
• The moon looks tired, Daddy.
• I need a break.
• Here, Mommy, I rub your belly for you.
• Mommy, does your back hurt? I get some medicine for you.

Holy Crap! Students can be so stupid!

I'm currently sitting in C's office trying to grade, and he keeps interrupting me to ask various questions about Turnitin.com. He's never used it before this semester, so he's a bit confused. He is trying to understand the whole report system. One report indicates that the paper is 60% plagiarized. He asked me to help he decipher the report, which I did (for those of you not familiar with Turnitin.com, it recognizes sources, but it doesn't recognize formatting. Therefore, just b/c Turnitin.com says a paper is plagiarized doesn't necessarily mean it is, as it doesn't recognize quotation marks, footnotes, or parenthetical citations).

I looked at the paper for him and explained the various color coding (each source that the student may have copied from is given its own color). This paper is clearly plagairized, as it contains entire paragraphs copied from other sources. So C started the process of printing stuff off, and then he decided to download the paper as a word document to compare that version to Turnitin.com's report. All of a sudden, I heard C utter a string of four-letter words--some words he hasn't said in a long time. Then he said, through gritted teeth, "You have to look at this." I walked over to his computer and just started laughing. Instead of typing names and words, like Raphael and chiara, the student literally cut and pasted them from Wikipedia and various online dictionaries. When the student did this, he forgot to remove the hyperlinks, so all C had to do was click on the highlighted word (in a Word document) to get to the source where the kid took the word and corresponding passage from. C is pissed, but, frankly, I'm rather amused!

I have no idea what to make of this

For the fourth or fifth time in about a week or so, C and I have run into someone on campus with whom he has had lots of contact but I've never met. Each time he introduces me, and the person, who is almost always a tenured professor at CU, proceeds to ask about my work. I answer, giving my standard ten-second answer describing my dissertation: "I'm writing on 19th-century American women writers and their conceptions and representations of space." The conversation generally moves to the summer and if we're traveling, at which point I say no. C, inevitably, says, very pointedly, "But M will be traveling to Southwest College Town in early May to defend her dissertation." Now, C is saying this primarily for two reasons: 1) he's proud of me, and 2) he wants everyone at CU to know that I am defending, as he thinks it will help us make a case that I should be hired. I have no problem with him pointing this out. I am unsure what to make of people's responses though. The general response has been: "Oh, oh! I didn't realize that was happening so soon. . ." Then the person looks quizzically at me and promptly changes the subject.

This happened again this morning, again for about the fourth time in a week. I have no idea what to make of these statements, and I'm beginning to wonder if I should be offended by this common reaction.

Progress: Wharton

I spent the weekend and this morning reading over my adviser's comments on my Wharton chapter as well as reading several key spatial theorists. I then proceeded to try to write a new introduction. I just reread it, and it doesn't work. For those who know The House of Mirth, you are familiar with the opening scene, which positions Lily, the main character, in Grand Central Station. In a lot of ways, this is the best scene for me to begin with the chapter with, but as almost every critical essay on the novel begins with this scene, I wanted to try open the chapter with a different scene. I had it worked out in my head why beginning with the scene in which Lily is confronted by Gus Trenor would work. She moves through a series of transitional spaces, ultimately ending up in Trenor's den. She loses power as she moves through each space, finally regaining power by uttering a single sentence which reminds Trenor of their positions in society. For some reason, though, it isn't working, although now that I've typed that, I may give it another go in the morning. . .

Family of Three

After a morning in which C, Wild Man, and I have sung the entire soundtrack to Beauty and the Beast, fed Gloria the hippo, and chased the cats, as well as snuggled a fair amount, I find myself a little sad that our days as a family of three are limited.

"The case against breast-feeding"

I just posted on this topic at The Rhetorical Situation, including a link to an interview with Hanna Rosin, who wrote an article in this month's The Atlantic under this title, and Dr. Nancy Snyderman, which appeared on the Today Show. But I think it is worth reposting the link to the article and the interview, as I reach a somewhat different audience at Separation of Spheres.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

A little reward

As a reward for all the hard work I've been doing lately, I took myself shopping this morning. In addition to getting Wild Man some shorts in anticipation of summer, which I am not convinced will ever occur in CU Land, I also bought myself a dress. I've wanted this particular maxi dress since I first saw it in the store, and I finally decided to buy it. To top it off, I had a 30% coupon , so my entire purchase, which included 3 shirts and 1 pair of shorts for Wild Man, 2 pairs of leggings (size 3 to 6 months) for Z, and my dress came to $40. C was mightily impressed.

Defense Date!

I have been given the go ahead to schedule my defense. Excuse me while I do a happy dance around the room!

Two down

I just sent my second fully revised chapter. Wharton, here I come.

The Joys of Motherhood

I've been thinking about what it means to be a mother a lot lately. Part of this stems from the fact that I am a mother, and I am about to become the mother of two. But it mostly stems from the media's obsession with celebrity mothers. I confess, I am no different. I love looking at pictures of babies and children, and I am quite happy to collude in the media's infringement upon celebrities' privacy by looking at pictures of Gwen Stefani and her boys or Heidi Klum and her brood.

Lately, though, I've noticed something that I bothers me, as a mother, a woman, and an academic. Many, many celebrity mothers are commenting that they've never been more fulfilled in their lives since they became mothers. They are overwhelmed by the love they feel for their children and feel more satisfied by motherhood than anything they've done professionally. Halle Berry and Michelle Monaghan are two examples of celebrity moms who have recently waxed poetic about motherhood.

On some level, I get what these women (and celebrity moms are by no means the only moms to express such feelings) are saying. I love Wild Man in a way that I have never loved another person. The love I feel for him is vastly different from the love I feel for C. I also take great pride and pleasure in my role as his mom. I love being with him, and I thoroughly enjoy watching him grow up and become his own person. In fact, my favorite thing about being a mom is watching him learn and grow and change, things that I often have very little to do with. That said, I find this tendency, which is so often exhibited by celebrity moms, to wax poetic about how profound and changing a mother's love can be a little disturbing. For me, it promotes the message (as do sites like People's Celebrity Baby Blog) that all women inherently desire to be mothers. Such stories tacitly remind women that they are, indeed, unfulfilled as women until they become mothers, and that really bothers me.

It bothers me because so many women become so wrapped up in what a mother is "supposed" to be that they forget who they are or who they want to be. My own mother had a huge crisis of identity when my sister and I moved out. She, a woman who had worked outside the home for years, had several hobbies, and a great relationship with my dad, didn't know what to do when she didn't have to be someone's "Mom" every single day. She became depressed and completely withdrew from life. She finally went to therapy and is now in a great place, but she has acheived that sense of calm, in part, because my brother still lives at home and likely will for the rest of his life (my brother is deaf, and while he is fully able to live on his own, he depends so much on my mom--and she on him--that he will likely never move out). She "mothers" him every day, so she has maintained the part of her identity that she feared losing.

It seems that the idea that nothing is so fulfilling as motherhood only perpetuates these kinds of identity-crises that many, many women experience. I wish we could revise this perception of motherhood a bit. Again, I find motherhood fulfilling--more fulfilling than lots of things I do--but I also find it hard, frustrating, tedious, and, dare I say it, at times boring. I find more work as fulfilling as motherhood, but I find it fulfilling in a completely different way. I wish more women would say just that: motherhood fulfills one part of me, but it does not complete me, any more than my work completes me. Both make me a more complete person, but neither mothering nor my work makes up the total of me.

Here is another unrelated, but tangential thought that has been running through my head.

A few years ago, author Ayelet Waldman appeared on Oprah, and she stated that she loved her husband more than she loved her four children. Waldman was publicly chastised for being a bad mother and recieved death threats for making these statements. Clearly, she was a "bad mother" because she loved someone more than her children. I was not a mother when Waldman made these statements, but even then, I felt that I understood them. I have since made similar statements to my family and friends, and most seem a bit taken aback until I explain myself. As I just said, I love Wild Man in a way that I do not love C, and I know I will love Z in a similar way. But, in a way, I love C more than I love Wild Man and more than I will love Z. Here's why: I see my time with Wild Man and Z as fixed, as finite, in some strange way. Yes, I will always be there mother and I will definitely always be there for them in every way possible, but they will not always need or want me to be a daily part of their lives. I firmly believe my primary job as a mom is to help my children be the best people they can be, and then, I have to let them go and discover the world for themselves. I want to be in my life forever, but I don't want them to be the center of my life forever. I think that is unhealthy and wouldn't allow them to be their own people on their own terms.

In contrast, I do plan to have C in my life forever. He and I have willingly joined our lives, and I am committed to sustaining this relationship for the long haul. By saying I love him more than my children, I am saying that this is the relationship that I value the most in my life. At some point, our kids are going to grow up and leave us, and at that moment, I don't want to look across the table and wonder "Who the hell is this person?" I figure I have 18 or 20 years with Wild Man and Z; I want to have a lifetime with C. For that to happen, I have to put our relationship first, and I think our kids will recognize and, ultimately, appreciate that.

More progress

I have officially sent my first chapter to my entire committee!

Today I am reading through my second chapter (which is the one I just finished a few weeks ago) to correct typos, fix footnotes, and some other minor revisions before sending it off as well.

Friday, I turn to Wharton, and I am determined not to become consumed by her! I want to have that chapter done as quickly as possible so I can begin a draft of an introduction soon. I have lots of notes for this, so I'm hoping it won't prove too daunting. Somewhere in the middle of all of that I have to get my committee to agree on a defense date and buy a ticket to Southwest College Town.

C asked me last night if I was excited about defending. I said, "I still don't believe it is going to happen. I probably won't believe it until after I have defended."

Thank you, Heidi Klum

Recently, I've been mentally writing a post on all the celebrity mothers who declare that motherhood is the best thing they've ever done and how it fulfills them in a way that nothing else ever has. Most then go on to comment that like all working mothers, they struggle to balance work with home life. I have lots and lots of thoughts on this, none I want to go into right now, as I'd the post to be thoughtful and not a rant. While taking a break from revising, I ran across this article on People.com in which Heidi Klum makes me like her more than any other celebrity mom out there. Yes, she recognizes that working and being a mom is about juggling the various aspects of her life, but the final sentence of the article is what makes me like her: "Although Heidi happily takes on the responsibilities of motherhood, she believes her ability to juggle a family with a career, as a celebrity, is nothing to brag about. 'I don’t have the hard everyday life that so many working mother’s face.'”

So, thank you, Heidi, for recognizing that you aren't like the average working mom and that your position as a celebrity actually makes it easier for you to do many of the things working moms do.

Progress

I just received a wonderful email from my adviser, telling me the last chapter that I sent to her is in "great shape and very polished." She wants me to fix a few minor things and send it, along with the chapter I spent the last 2 weeks revising, to my committee as soon as possible. Once I've done that, we can start the process of setting a defense date. All of this means that my goal is in sight. I have lots of long days ahead of me as once I send these two chapters off I have to begin the arduous task of revising my Wharton chapter. Wharton scares me because I know I can become overwhelmed by Wharton. But I have a plan. I'm going to read very careful everything I've written and all my advisers comments. Then I'm going to develop a thorough outline and get to work. I'm behind the schedule that is on the side of my blog, but frankly, I'm not changing it b/c it is still motivating me.

Oh, and given my current situation (i.e., 5 1/2 months pregnant), my adviser is telling my committee I can do the final revision after I defend!

Three questions I'm trying to not get irritated over. . .

1. "Are you sure the baby is a girl?"--Nope, and we won't be sure until Z is born and doesn't have male genitalia.

2. "What will you do if the baby is a boy?"--Um, I don't know, maybe name him, take him home, and love him just as much as we would if he were a girl.

3. "Won't you be disappointed if the baby is a boy?"--No! I mean, sure, we've thought about a girl and we've talked about a girl, so on some level, we're prepared for a girl. But if Z turns out to be a boy, I will absolutely thrilled.

I'll give you three guess who has been asking these annoying questions, and I bet most of you only need 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.

My weekend away, and my baby is growing up

My weekend away went much better than I expected, especially given the fact that I did not want to go at all. In fact, I cried when I left because I really just wanted to stay home with C and Wild Man. In the end, I did enjoy myself. I attended some really great panels, including one on academic mothers that left me simultaneously excited and depressed. My own panel, which I had organized, went surprisingly well. I say surprisingly because it was scheduled at 8:30 on Sunday morning, the last day of the conference and the next to last panel. I was expecting no one to show up, which would have been fine b/c then I could have just chatted with my fellow panelists, who were very smart and offered some great suggestions for my paper. We had, however, about 16 people in the audience, and as no one went over time, we had 30 minutes for discussion. It was the best panel I've ever been a part of.

C and Wild Man had a relatively uneventful weekend with Yetta and Pita. There were no major melt-downs had by anyone, and Wild Man really enjoyed his time with his aunt, as he always does. C did, as I expected, get frustrated by Yetta and Pita's obsession with food, but there isn't much to be done about that. I arrived home to find my freezer and pantry stocked with all sorts of essentials, courtesy of Yetta, as well as a few things we will never eat that she determined were essential (pre-packaged cupcakes are, in fact, not essential for my life!). She also very generously bought Wild Man a mattress for the twin size bed that C and I recently bought him. She apparently spent quite a bit of money on all of us, despite C telling her that we're well able to buy these things ourselves. She finally told him to shut up and let her do it as she feels guilty for how much she does on a daily basis for his brother and his kids. So C shut up.

And last night, Wild Man slept in his "big boy" bed for the first time. Both Yetta and Pita wanted him to sleep in it while they were here, but C, who wanted to wait for me to get home, said Wild Man needed a bed rail first (which he did). I'm so glad he put them off and waited for me before he let Wild Man sleep in it the first time. I am happy I was here to mark that milestone with Wild Man. As it was, I cried as soon as I left his bedroom. If I hadn't been here the first time he slept in it, I know I would have cried more. C, who was experiencing the same sense of sadness and pride, said, "Our boy wears underwear, pees in the potty (mostly), and no longer sleep in his crib. He is definitely growing up. He isn't a baby anymore." Then, C leaned over and kissed my growing bump and said, "It's good we have another one on the way."

Jstor. . .

is really annoying. I just had to share that.

I am . . .

very happy to be home with my boys. For the moment that says it all.

Warning

The following was written by a cranky, tired, dissertating, pregnant woman.

I am so tired of hearing the following two questions/comments, and I'm only half way through my pregnancy. As I recall, I was annoyed by these same questions/comments when I was carrying Wild Man.

1. How are you feeling?
2. You're how far along? You look great!

The first question annoys me just because it seems like the only thing people can think to ask me. This time around I'm inclined to say something along the lines of "Well, I've got to have a complete draft of my dissertation finished in 7 weeks. I'm a bit stressed out, but thanks for asking." I know, however, that isn't what most people are asking about.

The second question/comment annoys me because it always strikes me as a back-handed sort of compliment. I always want to say "Thanks, but did you expect me to look awful?"

And, as I know I'm likely to get comments on the people's good intentions when they make these sorts of comments, I know people don't intend for me to respond as I do to these comments. Most people make these comments out of interest and concern, which I way I never respond how I want to. I just wish I didn't find the comments so annoying.

Random Updates

Life is a bit crazy in my house as of late. Here are some things that are going on and random thoughts that I can't seem to get out of my head.

• I will be out of town this weekend, leaving C and Wild Man on their own for 2-plus days. Well, not exactly on their own; Yetta and Pita are flying in "to help out" as Yetta puts it. Ordinarily I would be worried about this for various reasons I've discussed here before, but right now I'm not. I won't be here, so I won't be in control. And I'm mostly ok with that.
• I'm tired of winter. I mean really and truly tired of winter.
• We bought Wild Man new, used furniture this weekend. I found it on the Canadian equivalent of Craig's List, and it is solid wood furniture. We do need to refinish it, but C doesn't think that is too much of an undertaking as it only has a clear finish on it. It was a steal too, considering it is birch and includes 3 pieces. Wild Man can't wait to sleep in it, but we have to get a mattress first.
• I'm really worried that I won't be able to finish everything I still need to do in order to defend my dissertation before I can no longer travel. I know I could easily finish well before the deadline to file if I didn't have travel restrictions. As it is, I've convinced my midwife to let me travel as late as 36 weeks into my pregnancy, something C is not at all comfortable with.
  
• C is going out of town in early-April, and rather than stress out about how I'm going to manage Wild Man alone for 4 days at the beginning of my third trimester, I asked my sister to drive up and spend the weekend with me. Now that she is so close, I figured, what the hell? I can, of course, manage on my own, but frankly, C always gets help, so why shouldn't I? She wants to bring her kids with her, so she's trying to work out an agreement with her ex-husband (he has to give her written permission to take them out of the country). Barring any unforeseen events, they are coming. Wild Man will be thrilled to see his cousins, and I will be happy to have the company.
• Yetta is already asking about our plans for Christmas 2010. Note: this is not a typo. We've already told her that we have no plans to travel this holiday season as I will be on the job market. We're hoping I will, in fact, be at MLA immediately following Christmas. As Z will still be nursing a fair amount by then (I'm hoping at least) and as several of our closest friends will be there, we're planning a family trip out of it. She knows this, so she is already planning for Christmas 2010 when she "can have her entire family together for the first time in who knows how long." Yes, that is a direct quotation.
  
• My dad still has not gotten a passport despite the fact that I've asked him specifically to do so at least 5 times. He just doesn't seem to get that I live in a different country. I'm under no illusions that my dad is just going to randomly decide to visit, not even to see Z after she's born. But, as I've said to him, without a passport he can't even come to CU Land in the event of a medical emergency. His refusal to travel really hurts my feelings--a lot.
• My mom recently purchased a ticket to fly directly in to CU Land four days before Z's due date. She has also said that if I go over my due date she will extend the time she is planning to stay so she can help out with Wild Man. My mom is in a much better place than she was when Wild Man was born, so I'm excited. In fact, she even recently apologized for how little help she was at that time. She is also practicing using her GPS system so that she can take Wild Man to school if need by. That she is doing this means so much to me. My mom has a huge phobia of driving in places she doesn't know. We've had big fights about this in the past b/c her fear of driving has often meant that we have to ask Yetta to come help when one of us is out of town rather than her. She is working to overcome this phobia in order to help us out, and that tells me how much she cares about us.
• My sister is planning to get in her car and drive to CU Land the minute we tell her I'm in labor. Since she's the closest relative, she happily offered to do this for us. She came for five days after Wild Man was born and was so helpful. I really needed someone to take over so I could focus on Wild Man. Her presence was especially helpful given that C ended up flying to Home State 3 days after Wild Man was born to attend his dad's funeral. He wouldn't have done that if Sis hadn't been with me, and I know he would have regretted missing his dad's funeral. Sis has asked me what I want her to do, and I've told her to do just what she did after Wild Man's birth: run the show and let us focus on the baby. My Sis and I often disagree about a lot of things, so I know she feels special that I valued her help and want it again.
• I need to read 100+ pages in order to teach Thursday, but I'm really wondering if I can just wing it, since I've read the book before. Does that make me a bad teacher?
• C and I need more time alone together.
• I need more time to myself, and I seriously need to find some ladies to go out on the town with.

It isn't that cold in our house

Wild Man and Baby Z

In the past few days, Wild Man has become increasingly interested in Z and my belly. A few nights ago, he requested to see "Mommy's big belly." He then said "I kiss belly. I kiss Baby Z." For some reason he had to "clean Mommy's big belly" before he could give it a big hug.

*Keeping with my agreement with C, these photos were only up for a few days.

Staking her claim

Last week, C and I made our first big purchase for Z. We bought a Moses basket and a rocker for it. We're planning to use it as a bassinet when Z is first born as she will be sleeping in our room. We chose this over a pack and play (although we will be using the one we purchased for Wild Man in the living room) or a co-sleeper because it is smaller. Our room isn't very large, and the Moses basket will take up minimal room while giving Z a space of her own to sleep.

Since we purchased it, it has been sitting in a corner of my office, with its freshly washed bedding just lying inside of it. This morning one of our cats decided it makes the perfect spot for a rest. It seems that she has claimed it for herself, and we must now begin the arduous task of teaching her to stay out of it.

Revising my approach

After Jennie's thoughtful comments to yesterday's post about my anger toward my mother-in-law as well as a conversation with C last night, I've decided to revise my approach to my relationship with Yetta. As Jennie said, I want my husband and my son to have a healthy relationship with Yetta, one that has nothing to do with me and my often difficult relationship with her. I don't want my feelings to affect their view of her, and I definitely do not want to become between them. The bottom line is she does love them very much, and she will love Z very much as well. I even believe that she cares a lot for me, and in spite of all my anger, I care a great deal for her. So here is my new approach:

• I will stop avoiding conversations with her; I will talk to her when she calls instead of immediately passing the phone off to C.
• I will be open-minded and understanding about her feelings regarding our inability to visit more often and how far away we live.
• I will not take any comments she makes about my family, specifically my mother, to heart; her view of my family does not influence my or my son's relationship with them.
• I will not allow her to pit C and I against each other.
• I will earnestly try not to put C in a position to choose between our family and his natal family.
  
• I will try to accommodate all of her reasonable requests.
• I will remember that I will likely be a mother-in-law myself one day, and I will use my relationship with Yetta as a model for how not to treat my adult children and their partners.
• I will no longer let her attitude or her comments ruin visits to Home State. When we visit and she says inappropriate things, I will simply not respond or I will leave the room.

Ok, that feels like a good beginning. As I said to C last night, this will be hard for me. It helped that he told me that he can't understand why my relationship with his mom has changed so drastically and that he can't think of anything I've done, other than just being me, that could have incurred her anger. I felt better having him validate those feelings. While I do want to improve my relationship with her, I'm beginning to understand that just might not be possible. I have to figure out some way to get along with her though, for the sake of my husband and my children. And I can do that.

Holy Crap!

I did it. I finished a complete draft of my second chapter. And, quite frankly, I think it is pretty damn good. I do know I will need to do some revisions, especially in the introduction, but for now, I can give it a quick proofread (well, as quick as I can manage for 70+ pages) and send it to my adviser. With any luck, I can manage to revise my first chapter in a week and get myself back on schedule. I may be able to defend before I can no longer travel!

Getting over anger

Apparently this is the morning for using my blog to vent.

C made a fairly reasonable request of me last night, but one that I'm struggling to figure out how to address. He asked that I figure out some way to get over my recent and (at times) almost all-consuming anger at his mother. He recognized that I am, mostly, fully justified in my anger, but he said it makes it difficult on him. I know this, and I have repeatedly apologized to him for my current state of mind regarding his mother. But I also freely admit I have made no attempt to get past my anger, and if anything, my anger has grown.

Why am I so angry at Yetta? It's long and complex. The reasons include the typical ones most daughters-in-law site for being angry with their mothers-in-law. She is overbearing, intrusive, self-centered, and manipulative. She often says things without thinking that are hurtful, spiteful, and downright mean. She almost never apologizes, and if she does, it is typically in a back handed way that lets me know that she is insincere. I've dealt with this for years, and while these things are a source of irritation, I can handle them. What I really resent is the fact that she has recently lied directly to me and has begun saying negative things about me to C. For his part, C does tell her that he doesn't want to hear any of these negative things and that her comments are completely inappropriate. She, however, continues with the comments after a short respite. Frankly, I can also deal with this; I mean, really, whatever, she can think whatever she wants to think about me, or at least usually. She has, however, begun espousing an opinion that I find completely intolerable as it insults me, my parents, my upbringing, and whatever semblance of a relationship I have with her.

She has said, repeatedly, in the past year, that my family and I do not seem to value family as much as she does (to be fair, she says the exact same thing about my sister-in-law, C's brother's wife). She is so sure of this, in fact, that she has rearranged her finances to ensure that neither J, my SIL, or I will ever have to take care of her in her old age. I can tolerate this sort of thing when she says it to C, although it does piss me off. But I reason as long as she doesn't say it to me, I'm not going to worry about it as I don't really have to respond. During our visit at Christmas, though, she made this very statement to me. She then added that she resented that I put my family before her and that I am not appropriately thankful for all she does. Oh, and then she said, my parents never include her in anything and that she knows I say awful things to my mother about her all the time. She then claimed to have never said anything negative about me to anyone. These statements were made in the course of what I thought was going to be a productive conversation between just the two of us, a conversation that was initiated by something she said that made C so angry he left the room and refused to come back for the remainder of the evening (as an aside, I tried to retreat with him, but he was so angry he wanted to be alone for fear he would say something mean to me. His mom's house is small; I had no choice but to hang out in the kitchen alone with her until C calmed down.).

Truth be told, the conversation started off well. She talked, I listened, primarily b/c she was trying to understand C's anger at her very ignorant comment and I wasn't about to try to explain her son to her. Then she started making these comments about me and my family. And frankly, I lost it. I did manage to not sound angry, but I responded to every single comment--even telling her that, in fact, I do know almost every negative thing she has ever said about me b/c C tells me about many of the comments. She didn't even respond to most of the things I said, which included the fact that my parents no longer invite her over to their home b/c they don't like entertaining and b/c she has refused their invitations so many times they no longer see the point in ever offering. After I made my points, the conversation went elsewhere, and I eventually excused myself and went to bed, believing that perhaps we had actually started to understand each other. It seems I was wrong.

Recently her comments about me and my "hatred" of family have become increasingly more frequent, so frequent in fact that she has two visits planned in the next few months but has made it very clear that she will be coming when I'm out of town so as "not to interfere with my work schedule." C has said he thinks this is thoughtful, but I told him that is her passive agressive way of reminding me that she's still pissed at me for saying that extended family isn't a priority right now b/c I've got to finish my dissertation. And so, my anger increases, and I inadvertently take it out on C. I've got to find a way to deal with it, a way that doesn't include talking to my mother-in-law because, frankly, I've tried it before and it doesn't work. I've tried changing my behavior, and that also doesn't work. I had hoped that writing about it here would help, but alas, I'm just pissed all over again. I really, really want to like this woman b/c she is my husband's mother. She loves Wild Man dearly, and I know she will feel the same about Z. I want to have a healthy relationship with her b/c I don't want to dread every single visit we make to her house. But I honestly have no idea how to accomplish that.

The oddities of Facebook

So after years of resisting, I joined Facebook this fall. I confess I did it mainly because I had lost the email address of one of my dearest, lifelong friends (this person was my maid of honor and we've been friends since we were 8), and I knew she was on FB. I expected to use FB to find her and that would be that. Well lo and behold, a lot of my friends from Southwest College Town are also on FB, and using FB has become a great way to keep in touch with them. I've also found it extremely useful to communicate with several of these friends who are also completing their dissertations from afar. We've become one another's support group so to speak.

I've also some how managed to reconnect with a bunch of people from high school. I have to admit that I find this odd. I did not enjoy high school. My reasons for not enjoying high school are complex and difficult to explain; suffice to say, they go beyond the typical reasons. I was fairly popular and had lots of friends; I was never ostracized or mistreated by those who were more popular, nor did I mistreat others in return. In a nutshell, I lost a lot of friends in my senior year, people who had claimed to be among my best friends, because I did not attend church, did not consider myself a Christian, and had a close relationship with a teacher who had us read things that challenged the beliefs of many of my peers (apparently most high schoolers don't read Joseph Campbell's The Power of Myth or talk about the "Christian myth"). While I'm happy to reconnect with some people from high school, I find it utterly amazing that people whom I rarely spoke with in high school or the very individuals who cut me out of their lives because of the above described situation have now asked to be my FB friend. I have no idea how to respond to this. I am, I think, a very, very loyal friend, but I don't respond to betrayal of any kind well. I also really dislike hypocrisy and can hold a grudge. I truly don't understand why some of these individuals want to know what is going on in my life some 16 years after high school ended, especially when they wanted to have little or nothing to do with me while we were in high school. I just don't get it. I mostly ignore these requests, but then, for some crazy reason, I feel guilty. I honestly think these people are just trying to amass friends so they can feel popular again. So while I like FB for lots of reasons, in some ways, it reminds me of high school all over again. And I definitely don't like that.

Giving birth in Canada

After our appointment with my midwife this week, C and I have finally begun to grasp just how different our birth experience with Z will be from the one we had with Wild Man. As I have said many times, I experienced a number of medical interventions with Wild man, but given the circumstances of the birth, I really think all the interventions were necessary. Further, I had as close to the birth experience as I could have hoped for given the distress that Wild Man was in throughout labor. I have never felt unsatisfied or unhappy with our experience in anyway. In fact, I have always felt very glad I had such a great nurse who advocated so strongly for me and helped ensure I was able to have an unmedicated, vaginal birth.

Despite that, we've recently been considering a home birth for a lot of reasons. For me, I was primarily concerned about the amount of rest I would get in the hospital. With Wild Man, I managed to get some, but I still left the hospital exhausted, as did C, who was able to stay with me because we were given a birthing suite (we got this because the maternity floor was packed, and it was the only room available; I'm assuming the couch in the room made it a suite!). From what my friends have told me, private rooms in Canada are rare and come at a very high premium (about $250 or more a night). C has, however, declared that I get a room at any expense (we're paying nothing out of pocket for my prenatal care or for Z's birth; that's the benefit of socialized insurance), assuming there are any available after I give birth. If there are none available, I will be sharing a room with 3 other women. I don't mind sharing, but it doesn't seem conducive to rest at all. Giving birth at home seems much more restful to me.

On Wednesday, we asked my midwife about home birth, and she answered a few basic questions. When I expressed the above to her, she said, "Well, there is another option. Since you're under a midwife's care, you can actually leave the hospital as soon as 3 hours after you give birth (asuming, of course, it is a normal, uneventful birth and she has no concerns for me or the baby)." C and I must have looked completely flabbergasted because she went on to explain that the reason for this is the after care Z and I will receive with her. She will visit us at our home 24 hours after Z is born, and at least 2 more times in the first week. If she needs to come more she will. I will then see her in her office at 2, 4, & 6 weeks after giving birth; she will also give Z check-ups. Women using OBs don't have this option because they, typically, don't see their doctors until 6 weeks post-partum. After she then explained this, I was still puzzled, so I asked "Do you mean that the baby isn't sent to the nursery for tests?" It was her turn to look flabbergasted. She said, "No, as long as there are no complications, you will have the baby with you at all times." I know I still looked puzzled because she then said, "We don't have nurseries in our province; we only have NICUS. As long as babies are healthy, they are with their moms the entire time." She then asked about our experience in the States. When we explained that Wild Man had been in the nursery for at least 3 hours following the birth (we were allowed to have him with us for almost an hour), she looked aghast. She actually checked my chart to remind herself when I had given birth. She asked "You mean this practice was still going on in 2006?" C laughed and said that our experience was fairly typical, at least for our state. I told her what she described is very similar to a what I've read about birthing center births, not about hospital births. Needless to say, C and I left her office feel very reassured about the sort of hospital birth we will likely have, and unless we can get a private room, we will likely leave the hospital as soon as we can--provided that I don't give birth in the middle of the night. Then I think we'd stay just so we wouldn't wake up Wild Man with our arrival home.

We did discuss the option of home birth for a while on Thursday, but we have one major obstacle: what do we do with Wild Man? My mom will be here about 4 days before Z's due date, but I fully realize Z could come much earlier. My sister, who lives about 6 hours away, has offered to get on the road as soon as I go into labor so she can be with Wild Man, but given how fast my first labor went (just under 5 hours), there is no guarantee she'll be here in time. I really don't want Wild Man to be around when I've giving birth, and I especially don't want him in the house. With a hopsital birth, we will have to make arrangements with our friends to watch him, but neither of us will have to worry about his presence in the house. Given everything we'd just learned about a hospital birth in Canada, we think it seems like the right option for us, so I am fairly certain that is what we will do. I am feeling very excited about this birth and the fact that we will have Z with us at all times.

Weekly Progress Update

For some odd reason, putting these updates makes me feel accountable, so I'll keep doing it. Here's the run down for this week.

Monday: I get minimal done on most Mondays as Wild Man is home with me. I did get some major revisions completed and sent the first half of the chapter off to my adviser.

Tuesday: 6 pages written

Wednesday: 3 pages written, coupled with a visit to the midwife and various other errands that had to be done

Thursday: no progress on the dissertation due to teaching responsibilities

Friday: 5 pages; notes taken on Foucault's Discipline and Punish; as a plus, I also wrote the section of the chapter that includes references to this.

I'm feeling very jazzed about this next section; in fact, I'd love to churn out another 3 or 4 pages tonight, leaving me only the conclusion of the chapter to write. I'm seriously considering heading out this evening after dinner and leaving C and Wild Man to handle the bedtime routine on their own, so I can accomplish this goal.

Next week is Spring Break, so I have no teaching responsibilities, aside from grading (YUCK!), so I will finish this chapter and complete revising the next, putting me back on schedule! Hooray for progress!

A little less flummoxed

Tonight at dinner, amidst Wild Man's ongoing discussion of his events at school (it seems that his buddy Theresa chased him around the room yet again), C and returned to our conversation of home birth. I asked him point blank how he feels about it. He said he many of his original feelings still stand, especially given the emergency nature of Wild Man's birth and how close we came to having a C-section. But he also said he feels like our situation in CU Land is somewhat different.

If we had wanted a home birth in Southwest College Town, we would have been hard pressed to find a midwife to work with us. We would have had to pay all expenses out of pocket, as our insurance didn't cover home births. Add all of this to the general anxiety we felt because we were having our first child, and a home birth just wasn't something either one of us was willing to consider. This time, however, if we choose a home birth, we will have two certified midwives attending us, both of whom we've already met and really like and trust. In C's mind, this changes the game a bit. These are women who have credible degrees in midwifery from highly respected Canadian universities. Both have been practicing for some time, and both have attended numerous home births in the past. While he still has lots of concerns, C also made it very clear that he is more than willing to discuss this with our midwife and consider this as a real option.

For my part, I'm still uncertain. I don't know if I can even articulate why the idea of a home birth is appealing to me this time around. I don't feel that I had an unsatisfying birth experience with Wild Man. Given the issues surrounding his birth, I really believe I had as close to the experience I wanted. My midwife and I have already talked about Wild Man's birth, and she has assured me that she will not perform several of the interventions that my OB just routinely did. I will not, for example, have an episiotomy this time around; if I tear, I tear. But I've done some research on this, and apparently the rate for tearing is greatly reduced when a woman uses a midwife--at least this is what the stats I've found for the province we're living in indicate. I did some quick research on home births earlier today, and I was reassured by what I learned. The survival rate for moms and babies are actually slightly higher in a home birth environment than in a hospital--it is around .25% difference. Midwives are required by provincial law to stay with the family for a minimum of 2 hours after the placenta is delivered, but most stay at least 3 hours if not more. Midwives are also required by law to visit the mom and baby the day following delivery, and most visit a minimum of 3 times in the first week (and my midwife will do this regardless of whether I give birth at home or in a hospital). As I wrote in my earlier post, midwives bring all necessary equipment with you, although families are responsible for any extras they want--like renting a birthing tub.

I feel at least somewhat more knowledgeable about this, and tomorrow we're going to ask my midwife some questions about home births. We both still have lots of questions and some concerns--like what do we do with Wild Man, for example. He gets upset when I throw up and tells Baby Z to "leave Mommy alone"; I don't think he'd react well to hearing me in labor. Clearly we have a lot to figure out, but it is really cool to know that this is something we can think about now.

Flummoxed

I cannot think of another word for how much C floored me yesterday; he truly left me flummoxed, and I'm not sure what to do about it.

Yesterday we were discussing my next appointment with my midwife and what questions we had (as an aside, at some point I need to write about the differences between having a midwife and an OB). As we talked I relayed a story that my office mate (yes, I'm finally making friends!) had shared with me about the birth of her second daughter. She had a home birth and told me that, unlike what I know about home births in the states, she and her partner didn't have to provide anything; the midwife brought it all. I was really surprised by this, and said as much to C. He then looked at me and said "You've been talking a lot about home births recently; do you want to have a home birth?" I was completely floored.

First, I haven't been talking about home births a lot recently; or if I have, I certainly didn't realize it. Second, I have been contemplating the advantages of a home birth, but given C adamant stance against home births, I haven't brought it up with him. C made this comment just as we were putting Wild Man in the tub, which immediately precedes the bedtime routine. After Wild Man fell asleep, C also went to bed, as he is trying to get over a cold. We never really got to finish the conversation, and I'm not sure how I feel. On one hand, a home birth scares the crap out of me, but on the other, I remember how many times my sleep was interrupted by nurses and how loud the hospital was. I haven't been considering a home birth as a way to avoid medical interventions because I know my midwife and I are on the same page there, but I have thought that a home birth might be more restful in some ways. Now that C has put it out there, I feel like it is something I can consider and we can talk about. But first I have to figure out how I feel about it. . .

Progress, continued

For some reason it helps me to keep a record of what I've done on my blog, so I'm sorry if these little updates are boring to the few readers I have, but I will likely keep doing it.

Here are this week's stats:

Monday: mostly lost due to travel, but I did manage to get some revisions done on the plane while Wild Man watched a movie.

Tuesday: wrote 5 pages and mapped out the next section

Wednesday: wrote 5 pages and marked up several articles I need to take notes on

Thursday: Thursdays are always a bit of a bust because I teach, and frankly, I'm not sacrificing any of my other writing time to prepping. I prep in the morning and teach in the afternoon. Luckily, the past two weeks I've been teaching the text I'm writing my current chapter on, so I didn't have much prep to do. Yesterday I worked on some revisions and read an article.

Today: I've spent the better part of the day wrestling with Foucault (b/c I thought it would be fun to make my life more difficult) and Patricia Hill Collins. I've written a page and a half and think I can get at least one more written before I have to pick up Wild Man.

Tomorrow: we have lots of errands to run, and C and I are planning to do a bunch of cooking so we have stuff in the freezer. I will take advantage of Wild Man's naptime though and hope to write at least 2 pages.

Sunday: same as Saturday.

Weekly total: (assuming I get 4 pages written on Saturday and Sunday) 16, give or take a half a page.

If I can stick to this, I can have this chapter entirely drafted by Tuesday, which puts me just a week behind schedule. I'm a pretty fast reviser, so I think I can make the time up fairly quickly and get back on track. Now that I've put it out there for all my bloggy friends to read, I have to do it.

Wild Man changes his name

For the past several months Wild Man has been obsessed with the movie Madagascar. He loves this movie so much that C bought him beanie babies of all the characters, and they have quickly become his favorite toys. He is particularly enamored by Gloria. In fact, he has recently decided that he is Gloria. He has refused to answer to anything but Gloria for the past two days. When we refer to him by his name, he says "No, I Gloria." He even insisted that his teachers call him Gloria today at school. When we picked him up and he said good-bye to all of his friends, they called "Good-bye, Gloria." But he is not only insisting that he is Gloria; C has become Alex, I have become Melman, and our cat Minerva is Marty. In order to get him to do anything, C and I have had to stop calling ourselves Mommy and Daddy and start calling ourselves Alex and Melman. It's been an interesting few days in our house.

Some days

Some days, like today, I have a lot of success with my writing--at least in terms of how much I'm able to produce. Other days, like last Wednesday, I have so little success that I end up feeling intensely disappointed in myself. What is it about any given day that means it will either be a good or a bad work day? I realize there is no real answer to this question. As my mom says to me when I tell her I'm having a bad day,"Sometimes your moon is just in asparagus." I know some things are unexplainable, but I tell you, I really wish I could explain this one thing so I wouldn't have any more unproductive days.

Home

After a weekend trip to attend the baptism of our goddaughter, we are home. Wild Man woke up this morning asking to see Jeezy and Lion Cub, which made me tear up a bit, but once I assured him that Jeezy and Lion Cub would be visiting in a few months, he was comforted (Note to Solon and Megs: you can't disappoint Wild Man; this kid has an amazing memory. He will ask when you're coming to visit every few days until he sees you next!).

Returning home, I have all the usual things to do after a trip: laundry, grocery shopping, a bit of cleaning. After C and Wild Man left this morning, I actually contemplated doing all of those things quickly (well, except the shopping as C took the car), but then I heard Jennie's voice in the back of my head saying, "Let it go, M. Go work." While I did start a load of laundry, I am only planning to do what is absolutely essential to life--I mean, I only have so many pairs of maternity pants! The cleaning can wait. We're having a quick and easy dinner with ingredients that are already in my pantry, so there is no need to go to the store (although I do think I will get C to stop by the store on the way home to pick up a few essentials) until the weekend. Tonight, C and I are finally going to sit down and make list of daily and weekly chores that have to get done. I plan on hearing Jennie's voice every time I consider putting something on the list. Now that I've finished answering student emails (you'd think these ladies had never written a short paper before), I'm going to have a quick snack and get down to work. I need to crank out at least 5 more pages today, and since I have a pretty good handle on this section I am feeling very confident that I can do this!