Clutter and unnecessary remarks

Over the last few weeks, both my mother and Archer's mother have called to check on me.  With Yetta, I keep it simple.  I tell her I'm tired, but fine; we're all adjusting well, and no, we don't need anything.  That's my standard line, whether it's true or not.  With my mom, I'm a bit more honest.  In fact, yesterday I was not having a good day.  It had nothing to do with my children and everything to do with the clutter that was threatening to consume my house.

You see, Archer, as wonderful as he is, isn't great about putting things away.  He routinely fixes something and then leaves his screwdriver lying on the kitchen counter for 3 weeks.  That is one example; I could name many others.  I have grown to accept this as a flaw that I cannot fix.  I've tried.  I've tried nagging; I've tried behavior modification; I've tried everything.  So usually I just put the stuff away.  It's easier.  If I get really irritated, I pick it all up and dump it on his desk for him to put away.  And rather than put it away, he will push it aside so he can access his papers and his keyboard.  This leads to lots of minor arguments.  I put something away, and he's sure he left it on top of the refrigerator (which is, apparently, an optimal spot to store tools, loose batteries, belts).  He goes to locate said item, and when he finally deigns to ask me if I know where it is, I tell him, "I put it in your toolbox in the basement because, you know, that's where your tools go."  He then gets irritated because he has to go to the basement to get said object, and I'm irritated because if he just put it away in the first place we wouldn't have this discussion for the 9 millionth time.

Add to that the fact that we have two children who have free reign over the house and that their puzzles, books, cars, and Legos often end up in places where they don't belong.  Oh, and let's not forget all the ephemera that accompanies a new born--burp cloths, blankets, socks, and the like.  Yes, my house was more than a bit cluttered.

Typically I take an hour on Saturday and put things away.  It is the most efficient way I've come up with as I can't retrain my entire family (although Wild Man and Bear are well on their way to putting their things away at the end of the day) nor can I hire a professional organizer.  I don't mind either.  But George has made this almost impossible lately.

Yesterday I was at my wits end.  I was tired and needed a nap, but more than that, I needed my house to be clean and de-cluttered for one day.  I was less than pleasant as everyone and everything was preventing my plan for de-cluttering.  I will not go into details, but I will say that Archer and I had discussed this plan on Saturday night.  Thus, when I came downstairs to find Wild Man and Bear had dumped out their extensive Lego collection all over the living room and that Archer was napping with George rather than taking out the vacuum cleaner I was annoyed.  My mom happened to call when I was finally able to get everyone to accomplish a specific task to de-clutter the house.  I told her what was going on.  She replied, "Well, M, you have three boys now; you may have to accept a certain amount of clutter, at least until George is older."  I was so irritated with that comment that I changed the subject and then got off the phone.

Why was I irritated?  My mom is absolutely right; for a while, at least, I'm going to have to deal with some clutter.  Other things trump having a neat and tidy house.  I can (and usually do) live with that.  But every. single. time. I talk to her she reminds me that I now have three children.  And I want to say, "Really?  Three?  When did that happen?  Oh right, I do vaguely remember giving birth to the third.  Thanks for the reminder, Mom."  Yes, my impulse is to be snarky and sarcastic.  But she says it very snarkily too.  As though I should have realized life would be so hectic and chaotic when we decided to add a third child to our family.  Yes, I'm being testy and a bit immature, but honestly, I could live without hearing that unnecessary remark ever again.

Birth Story, Part 2

Part 1 is here.

10:00 am

We met Dr. V, and I knew her.  In fact, as she stood beside my bed, I looked at her intently, trying to remember where we’d met.  She introduced herself to Archer and me, and then she gave me a quizzical look and asked why I looked so puzzled.  I said, “We’ve met before.”  To which she said, “It’s possible, but I’m very bad with faces.”  Suddenly I knew where we’d met, so I asked, “Do you know J?  She’s my good friend.”  Dr. V said, “Yes, we’re quite good friends as well.”  Then I said, “I think we met at her daughter’s birthday party over a year ago.”  Her face lit up.  She said, “Yes, I remember.  You have two little boys, and we talked about schools.”  We continued to chat as she examined me, and I was more comfortable with her since I knew her a bit.  She had also been J’s doctor and knowing how much J had liked her put me even more at ease.

During the exam, the baby moved again, and Dr. V was unable to get his heartbeat.  She became a bit concerned and decided to put in an internal monitor.  While she was trying to get the monitor on the baby’s head, she inadvertently broke the rest of my bag of waters.  It seems that L had not fully punctured it.  As the amniotic fluid literally poured out of me, Dr. V joked that I was going to ruin her new shoes that she had purchased during her recent trip to Europe. 

At that point, I was still only 3 centimeters dilated, and Dr. V asked me what sort of birth I wanted.  I said that I wanted as few interventions as possible.  She also asked about my previous labors, and after learning how fast both Wild Man and Bear and been born and that Wild Man had been induced by only breaking my water, she said, “I want to give it a bit before we run the oxytocin.  I’ll check back in about 90 minutes, and if you haven’t progressed at that point, we’ll talk some more.”

So for the next 90 minutes or so, I got up as I wanted to and moved around a bit, but mostly I stayed in bed, trying to rest.  Archer and I chatted with my nurse, as L moved between my room and her other patient’s room.  Around 11:45, L asked me if I would mind if she went home to shower; she’d been at a birth the day before and had gone home to sleep that evening, without showering.  I said, “I’m still only having contractions every 15 minutes, so sure, please go shower.”  At that point, the contractions were becoming more uncomfortable, but they were still not painful.  I figured that L had plenty of time to go home and shower.

12:30 pm

My nurse studied the printout of my contractions and noticed that they were getting a bit closer together, about every 12 minutes.  As we were talking about this, I had a strong contraction, and the baby’s heart rate dropped to 80, and it stayed down.  After a minute, a crowd of people came into my room—2 NICU nurses, 1 other nurse, and 3 residents.  My nurse was standing right next to me, and Archer was holding my hand.  The head resident (he’d only introduced himself by saying, “I’m the head resident”) pulled on surgical gloves and declared, “I need to check you.”  I rolled over, and without as much as asking my name, he proceeded to check my cervix.  Now, I have an oddly positioned cervix.  If this resident had taken a moment to read my chart, to talk to my nurse, or to ask me anything, he would have learned this.  But he didn’t.  Instead, he proceeded to check my cervix as though he was digging to China.  It hurt—a lot.  He also started another contraction.  My nurse, looking aghast, said, “She’s not medicated.”  Knowing he needed to see if labor was progressing and if the internal monitor on the baby had moved, I gritted my teeth and let him check.  But when he said, “Her cervix is really high and posterior; I can’t seem to get to it,” I quietly said, “Take your hand out of my body.  We need to wait for Dr. V.”  He was clearly embarrassed, but he moved away from me.  By this point, the baby’s heart rate had come back up, but Archer said quietly, “M, it stayed down for 3 minutes.”  I sighed heavily, as I knew what that might mean.

Dr. V arrived at that point and started asking questions.  She said, “Has she been checked?” My nurse said, “She asked to wait for you.”  So Dr. V checked me.  The internal monitor was still in place, and she said I was now 5 centimeters dilated.  We then had the C-Section discussion.  It went like this:

Dr. V: “If the baby’s heart rate drops again like that, we will have no choice but to get him out as quickly as possible.  I will have to perform an emergency C-section.”

Archer: “Since M has not had an epidural, what will happen with anesthesia?”

Dr. V: “We will try to get her an epidural, but if it is a true emergency, we will have to put her under completely as it is faster.”

M: “I don’t want a C-Section, but I obviously want the baby to be safe.”

She then asked me why I didn’t want the resident to check me, asking if it was “because he is male or because of his technique?”

M: “It was his technique.”

Dr. V: “I see.  I need you to understand that I’m in charge of the entire floor.  I cannot always get here immediately, but the resident can.  If he can’t check you, that slows things down and doesn’t let us see how the baby is doing.”

M: “Yes, I understand that.”

Dr. V: “Plus, this is a teaching hospital, and he has to learn how to do it properly.”

M: “Yes, I’m teacher, so I understand that as well.  He doesn’t, however, have to learn on me.”

Dr. V looked a bit surprised and told me she’d be back in an hour to check on me, reassuring me that she could see my monitors at the main desk.

1:00 pm

My midwife returned from showering and getting some lunch.  My nurse updated her, and she apologized for not being there. 

1:15 pm

My contractions started coming a bit faster, about every 8 to 10 minutes, and they were getting stronger.  I also experienced a lot more back pain.

1:45 pm

By this time, I was in active labor, with contractions every 4 to 5 minutes, lasting for 2 minutes, and I was in back labor.  At some point, the baby had turned, and the pain was excruciating.  I was hooked up to 3 different monitors, and every single time I moved, the baby’s heart rate fluctuated, so just as I did with Wild Man, I labored lying on my left side.  My midwife applied lots of pressure to my hips with every contraction, and Archer did the same on my lower back.  This helped some, making the pain manageable.  I have to admit though I was less than pleasant.  After my conversation with Dr. V, I had decided I was going to have a C-section; this was my way of preparing for that.  On some level, I figured I was going to need the epidural anyway so managing the pain became much more difficult for me. 

2:30 pm

I had an overwhelming desire to push, and I told everyone so.  My nurse called the resident back in, but this time a female resident came to check, and she was much more pleasant than the male resident.  She checked me, and said, “I’m sorry, you’re only 7.  You can’t push yet.”

After she left, my midwife leaned over and whispered, “If you feel the need to push, do it gently.”  So when I felt the need to push, I did.  I continued laboring with her help and Archer continued encouraging me, despite me telling him that I really, really wanted the epidural.

3:05 pm

I again said, “I need to push now.”  So again, everyone came back in, and the resident said, “Yep, she’s fully dilated; let’s get set up.” So the nurses began setting up, and I pushed with L and Archer’s help.  Dr. V walked in and said, “Why isn’t the table set up?”  The nurses couldn’t get my bed broken down to set up the stirrups, and in the meant time, I was still trying to push.  The bed was finally together, and my legs were forcibly put in the stirrups—I hate stirrups.  The resident kept telling me not to push, and I ignored her.  Dr. V looked at me and said, “We need to make sure the baby is in the right position, so stop pushing or you will hurt yourself and the baby.”  So I managed not to push.  Then the baby’s heart rate dropped to 60, and the resident said to me, “M, we’ve got to get your baby out now. Push as hard as you can.”  I wanted to say, “Gee, that’s what I’ve been trying to do for the last 10 minutes.”  So I pushed, and 5 minutes later, George was born.  The NICU nurses wanted to take him right away, but Dr. V quickly determined he was doing well.  She insisted that Archer cut the cord (in fact, she gave him no choice in the matter, which I loved as he hadn’t cut Wild Man or Bear’s cords) and that I be allowed to hold George for a few minutes.  The nurses then took him to the warmer and checked his heart rate and breathing.  He was doing so well that he was back with me in about 10 minutes.  While the resident gave me two stitches (without a local; she reasoned that I’d need 6 “pokes” with stitches and a local but only 4 “pokes” for the two stitches.  I said, “They aren’t exactly ‘pokes,’ but fine.”), Archer and I debated names.  We chose one that hadn’t been in the running long, but that really seemed to fit the baby.  We then had a brief conversation with Dr. V, and she returned me to my midwife’s care. 

In the end, after 15+ hours at the hospital and about 2 hours of active labor, George was born on July 24^th at 3:20 pm, weighing 7 lbs 5 oz and measuring 20 inches long.

Quiet

All of our family visitors have left, and as odd as this sounds, our house is quiet again.*  Yes, Wild Man and Bear make lots of noise, but it is noise I'm used to.  Slowly we're settling into a routine.  The hardest thing is that I'm nursing, and George is eating on demand.  I can be in the middle of cooking dinner or reading to Bear, and I suddenly have to get Archer to take over. He is doing a lot of the heavy lifting, so to speak, and that is frustrating for both of us for various reasons.  George is a laid-back baby, so that makes life a bit easier. 

*At some point I'll describe Yetta's less than fun visit, but for now I'll just be glad to have my house back.

Getting back in the game

George is now three weeks old, and my mind is already thinking about the projects I want to try to accomplish while on parental leave.  I am not expected to get any work done, but most people manage to get a few things done.  My plans are not overly ambitious, and now I'm still in the thinking/planning stages.  I'm optimistic, albeit cautiously, that George will nap for several hours each day (in fact, he's napping right now), enabling me to get at least an hour's worth of work done each day.  Bear will be home with us 2 days a week, so those days will likely be more hectic, but I hope to have their afternoon naps coordinated by October.   And I am fully aware that none of my plans may come to fruition, and I'm okay with that too.

A Pseudonym

I have finally chosen a pseudonym for the baby.  He will now be known as George, as in Curious George.  Why?  He is already intensely curious.  At not quite 3 weeks old, he is already trying to hold his head up, tracking objects, and listening for his brothers.  I think he's going to do everything early!

Birth Story, Part 1

I have sat down to write G’s (I’m still working on a pseudonym) birth story several times, and every time I’ve been interrupted.  I’m currently writing as he nurses.  I should be trying to rest I know, but I want to get the bulk of this down before I start to forget details.  His birth was long and difficult, so I’m going to use a timeline in an attempt to replicate that.  I’m also going to divide this into at least two posts as I doubt G will cooperate long enough to let me write the whole story in one sitting.

July 24, 12:15 am

A contraction woke me up.  I had been having Braxton hicks contractions for weeks, months really, but this was the first time a contraction had woke me up.  It was stronger than the B-H contractions, but not necessarily painful.  It felt like a long menstrual cramp.  I stayed in bed for a few minutes, and then I had another one.  After three or four, I got up, went to the bathroom, got some water, and then went back to bed.  I wasn’t sure they weren’t B-H contractions, so I was trying to determine if they would stop. 

12:45 am

It was clear they weren’t going to stop, so I woke up Archer.  We talked for a few minutes, and he started timing for me.  They were coming every 4 to 5 minutes and lasting about a minute.  Given my history of fast labor (Wild Man was born after 4 ½ hours of labor and Bear after 2 ½ hours), we decided to call my midwife, and she said she’d meet us at the hospital.  I got dressed, tossed a few things in my bag, and brushed my teeth (weird yes, but I did) while Archer woke up my mom.  She came upstairs to sleep in our bed so she’d be sure to hear Bear and Wild Man when they woke up, and we left for the hospital by 1:10 am.

1:15 am

We met my midwife in the parking garage at the hospital, and she walked us to the labor and delivery ward.  I was checked in, and then we discussed the plan.  My midwife, L, took my vitals, and we discussed how strong the contractions were.  She wanted to get set up, so Archer and I started walking as the contractions weren’t very painful.  We were hopeful that walking would get labor moving along. 

2:00 am

L was set up, and she gave me an IV.  I had tested positive for Group B Strep early in my pregnancy (if fact, L thinks I am one of those rare people who always has it in my body, although my body doesn’t see it as an infection, as I’ve tested positive with every single pregnancy), so I had opted to have the IV antibiotics to prevent the GBS being passed to the baby.

2:30 am

The antibiotics had gone through the IV, so Archer and I started walking again.  We walked off and on till 4:15.  At that point my contractions had slowed down.  I was having them about every 10 minutes, and they were not painful at all.  L offered to break my water, after she checked my cervix (I was 3 centimeters dilated when I came into the hospital, and almost 3 hours later, I was still 3 centimeters).  By this point, I was getting tired, so I agreed.  I reasoned that Wild Man had been induced by simply breaking my water, so maybe that would speed things up. 

4:30 am

L broke my water, and it was painful. It took her several tries to break it, whereas  when it had been broken to induce my labor with Wild Man it didn’t hurt at all.  She told me my cervix hadn’t thinned out at all and that the baby hadn’t dropped.  Considering that we had already passed the 4 1/2 hour mark I was really disappointed.

5:00 am

After L broke my water, I did not have a single contraction.  They stopped.  After waiting for a half an hour or so, I told her that nothing was going on.  She suggested we get some rest. So Archer went to sleep on the couch in the delivery room while I tried to rest in the hospital bed.  I say tried because L checked the baby’s heart rate every 15 minutes, which meant I had to change positions so she could find his heart beat.

6:45 am

L woke me up to check the baby’s heart beat and to ask me what was going on.  I told her: nothing.  She asked me how I wanted to progress, reminding me that since my water was broken we were under a timer of sorts.  I said I was unsure.  I was frustrated because the labor was not progressing, which I had not experienced before.  She reminded me she was in no hurry.  She assured me she was happy to wait labor out, but she did say that if I wanted oxytocin that she’d have to refer me to an OB as in our province midwives are not legally permitted to give a patient oxytocin.  That one threw me, as I didn’t realize that fact.  She encouraged us to go get something to eat and walk some more.  She told me to eat as much as I wanted because an OB wouldn’t let me eat anything from the moment I came under her care.  Archer and I went to the cafeteria, where I ate some fruit salad and a bagel.  I called my mom, explained the situation to her, and checked on Wild Man and Bear.  Then we walked.

8:00 am

We made our way back to labor and delivery where I told L my contractions had not resumed.  I had had several while we walked, but they were not regular nor were they strong.  I said that I was tired, and I wanted to be done.  As much as I didn’t want any interventions, I asked to be assigned to an OB.  L understood, but she suggested trying one more thing.  She had a breast pump, and she told me to pump to see if that would start contractions.  I agreed, hoping it would work.  I pumped for 45 minutes, and I had one strong contraction. 

9:00 am

L contacted the OB on call, after learning it was a doctor she really likes.  Dr. V was in the middle of rounds, so it would be about an hour before she could get to me.

Mothering three

Last week I wrote that the move from 2 to 3 has been less stressful from the move from 1 to 2 and most definitely less stressful then the move from 0 to 1, which I think is the most stressful of all.  I still think that is accurate, although today I had my first experience parenting all three at once by myself.* 

I'll start by saying that today was not an ordinary Friday.  Wild Man has been going to a theater camp for the last two weeks, and today was the day of his performance.  We kept Bear home from school so he could go to the "show."  The show started at 11, and it was over at 12, which is lunchtime.  Archer needed to go to his office to sign a few things as he is acting department chair this week (his department chair is out of town, and he's really the only full-time faculty member in town right now).  So he headed up to campus while Yetta and I took the boys home for lunch.  The minute we walked in the door G woke up and wanted to nurse.  Yetta happily made lunch for the older boys and me, while I nursed.  After lunch, Wild Man went to the play room to read, and I tried to get Bear upstairs for a nap.  He was not being cooperative, so I had to carry him upstairs and put him in his bed.  He had a temper tantrum, and then G, who I had put down in his bassinet, woke up.  I had to leave Bear to get G, and I tried nursing him while I rubbed Bear's back.  Bear adamantly refused to go to sleep.  I finally gave up, took G to my room, and left Bear to go to sleep on his own.  When Archer got home 20 minutes later, I was still nursing G while Bear sang to himself in his bed.  Archer decided that a nap was pointless and let Bear get up.  He reminded me that Bear has been cutting out naps a few days a week, to which I replied "he has to nap!"  He has to nap the two days a week he'll be home with me and G or I may lose my mind.  In the meantime, Wild Man was patiently waiting for one of us to come play with him downstairs (he had actually gotten Yetta to read with him).  So now, I'm left feeling like my first attempt to manage all 3 boys on my own was less than successful.  What would have success looked like?  A sleeping Bear, a sleeping G, and a reading Wild Man--oh and about 20 free minutes for me to nap.




*Technically, I wasn't by myself, as Yetta is visiting; however, there are certain things she prefers not to help with.  She prefers not to play any part in disciplining my children.  She reasons that she sees them so infrequently that she doesn't want them to remember her being "stern" with them.

Um, right . . .

I am the mother of three children.  I keep forgetting that . . .

Checking in

We're settling in a bit, now that we have three children.  Lots of people told me that the transition from 1 child to 2 children was much, much harder than the transition from 2 to 3 children.  I was, admittedly, skeptical, especially given my own initial uncertainty regarding my pregnancy.  I have to say, 11 days in, that the transition has been fairly smooth.  There have been a few glitches.  Wild Man has felt left out, and that was compounded by the fact that he went from full day camps the week of the baby's (I'm still working on a pseudonym) birth to half day camps this past week.  There have been several times this week when Archer and I have been occupied with the baby, and Wild Man has played Legos by himself for 3+ hours, making for a cranky 5 1/2 year old by dinner time.  Bear, however, has been remarkable.  I was a bit worried about his reaction, as he is, in many ways, still babyish, but he has blossomed before our eyes.  He checks on the baby, he wants to hold the baby, he sings to the baby.  He is incredibly gentle, loving, and protective.  Archer and I have repeatedly said to each other that we feel like we're seeing a whole new side to Bear.

As for me, I'm tired, but I'm not the dead tired I was with Wild Man, who had colic.  The baby wakes up in the night to nurse, and he goes back to sleep fairly easily.  I'm trying to get a nap in every morning, which helps a lot.  Archer is handling almost everything with the house, which will have to change soon as he starts teaching in about 4 weeks, and that is helpful.  My mom was here last week, and she was some help, although not a lot for various reasons.  Yetta arrives tomorrow, and she'll run errands and pick up the boys, leaving me to focus on the baby and let Archer get some writing done.  We're getting a bit more of a routine day by day.  And if I get a bit more time, I'll write the birth story, as well as the 1 million and 1 other things I want to write. . . but that is for another post.

He has arrived!

Baby G (I'll come up with a better pseudonym soon) was born on Tuesday, July 24th.  I'll likely write up the birth story later, but for now, I'll say this birth did not go as expected.  My labor with Wild Man was 4 hours 20 minutes, and 2 hours and 30 minutes with Bear.  Baby G was 15 hours, give or take.  I was not in active labor that entire time, but that is how long I was in labor, laboring, or trying to get labor to restart before he was born. 

For now, we're doing well.  He has slept fairly well the past two nights, and he is nursing fairly well.  My midwife thinks he is a bit tongue tied, and I am beginning to agree.  He is nursing, but not as efficiently as I'd like him to be.  I'm dealing with a bit of engorgement, which I'm handling with pumping, hot compresses, and ice packs.  He has an appointment with a pediatrician who will cut his frenulum, if need be. 

As for Wild Man and Bear, they are adjusting fairly well.  We've kept them on their regular schedule, so Wild Man has been at art camp all week and Bear has been in daycare.  I know lots of people (including my mom) who disagree with our decision to do this, but honestly, we want the smoothest transition for them.  Having them home, while we're trying to figure out Baby G's personality would mean that they'd end up watching a lot of TV or playing without us.  Keeping them involved with their regular activities means that they don't feel left out, and we can rest throughout the day as we need to.  When they are with Baby G, they have been excited.  Bear is telling everyone about "my brother," and Wild Man is very, very helpful.  We have had some minor meltdowns with each of them, but mostly, things are going well.  And I'm quite happy with our family of 5.

Dear Everyone . . .

Yes, I'm still pregnant.  No, I've not made any plans to induce labor.  No, my midwife is not concerned that I am 4 days overdue.  Yes, the baby seems to be healthy, as do I.  Yes, I am incredibly uncomfortable, but I am also managing the heat.  No, I'm not going to stay home and hide-out; I'm pregnant, not an invalid.  Yes, either Archer or I will notify you as soon as humanly possible once the baby is born.  Unfortunately, that notification may be via email or Facebook; we'll have a newborn, plus Wild Man and Bear to care for, so individual phone calls will only be made to our immediate family members.  I'm sorry if that offends you, but I do trust you'll manage to get over it.  No, you cannot come over to see the baby the moment I get home from the hospital, although you are more than welcome to stop by with food (I've done this before you see, and I already have plenty of sleepers and cute onesies for the baby).  No, we're not revealing the baby's name prior to his birth (and yes, we are quite certain it is a boy, and neither one of us is a bit upset about that); you see, we haven't actually chosen a name.  Yes, we do expect that Bear will have a rough time adjusting, but thank you for going out of your way to point out that you think our current youngest child is a spoiled "mommy's" boy.  As you might imagine, our opinion is a bit different, but we've already begun managing his expectations about having a younger sibling.

In closing, thank you for your daily emails and phone calls to inquire whether or not the baby has been born.  They are making the waiting so much more manageable.

Love,
M.

P.S. To my regular readers and/or close friends, thank you for your support and understanding.  I sincerely appreciate that you're all interested and excited for me, but I appreciate even more that none of you have bothered the sh*t out of me about my impending delivery.

Pregnancy in Public

I've been pregnant three times since I started this blog; thus, pregnancy has been a frequent topic here.  In fact, I've previously discussed how frustrated I become by many people's assumptions that a pregnant woman's body is public domain.  During my three pregnancies, I've had a number of things happen to me or been said to me in public, usually by perfect strangers, that I do not believe would have happened to me when I was not pregnant. 

• I've had perfect strangers tell me not to purchase feta cheese, alcohol, coffee, and sushi.
• I've had complete strangers ask me if I'm carrying twins or if I was ready to "pop" at any moment.
• I've had people ask me if I was smuggling a watermelon out of the grocery store.
• I've had people ask me if I knew the "gender" of the baby.  One person then ridiculed me for finding out, asking loudly in the middle of a coffee shop "Why no one waits anymore?"
• I've had people ask what we're naming the baby and then be offended when I decline to share our choices with them.
• I've had people (a doctor among them, in fact) demand to know why I got pregnant before Bear was potty trained and ask if I don't think I'm too old to be having another child.
• I've had people mourn the fact that I'm not having a girl.
• I've had people demand to know why I'm not having a fourth child.
• I've had perfect strangers touch my body without my permission or without even speaking to me.

I could go on and on.  I fully realize that there are many people who will argue that most people see pregnancy as a happy event, an event that they want to experience even if they are in no way connected to the pregnant person.  I accept that as a plausible explanation for their interest, but I don't accept that as a plausible explanation for people's bad manners or their failure to recognize boundaries.  I have, after all, met pregnant people before, and I have asked questions or commented on their pregnancies, although rarely unsolicited.  I am, however, someone who respects boundaries.  I have a deep respect for public and private, even when the two intersect and/or overlap.  I do recognize that there really is no clear distinction between public and private; after all, this is an area I study.  But there seems to be something about the pregnant body that causes people to collapse all distinctions between public and private, that encourages people to say things that they wouldn't normally say.  Why is this?  What is it about the sight of a pregnant belly that makes people think they no longer have to be polite and tactful, that they can say anything they think, or that another person's body is their business?  I don't have an answer to this, other than the simple fact that something that is a very private thing is on public display every time I leave the house.  And frankly, I don't find that to be a very satisfying answer.  But this really, really troubles me.

I just don't get it

Pita sent Archer an email this morning via FB in which she wrote something along the lines of, "Why don't you ever like the comments I post?  I see you can like everyone else's comments but mine.  I also say how much I love you.  Why don't you like my comments?"  It was, however, a bit more aggressive.  Archer opted not to respond, but a few hours later she sent him another message in which she wrote, "Are you ignoring me?"  He responded briefly, but he did his best not to engage her in anything further.

I just don't get it.  I absolutely do not understand how this is an effective form of communication.  I also don't understand why this is something that is worth initiating an argument over.  I do understand that she is a profoundly unhappy person.  Instead of deal with her own unhappiness, she'd rather attack those who love her.  I also understand that trying to engage in any sort of conversation about her behavior will not help the situation at all.  No matter how the topic is approached, Pita will claim to be attacked, despised, hated, and any other number of negative things.  It is impossible to express to her that we do care for her a great deal, but that we don't care for the drama she feels compelled to create.  As she sees it, our lives are perfect, and we look down on her because she doesn't have an education, because we're smarter than she is, because she is unmarried, because she doesn't have a "fancy" job, etc. 

Do I judge her?  If I'm being completely honest, yes, I do, but not for any of the reasons she'd likely list.  I judge her for causing drama, for taking advantage of Yetta, and for casting me as the person who has changed her brother and taken him away from their family.  I judge her for the things that I believe she is actively in control of, for the things she does that make Archer's life and relationship with her and his mother more difficult to manage.  I judge her for causing him stress and aggravation unnecessarily.  I judge her for being a 45-year-old child who refuses to express her feelings in a healthy way, despite being in therapy for over 8 years.  I judge her for using Archer as a target rather than dealing with her own unhappiness.

Mostly, I wish she'd try to have a healthy productive relationship with Archer rather than attacking him unnecessarily.

Apparently these are necessary . . .

So I'm still pregnant.  And while I have about a million things I could be doing, my brain isn't really focusing on any of them.  So I've been hanging out with Archer, Bear, and Wild Man; reading some fun books; and shopping online.  I came across these, and I'm a bit flabbergasted.  Apparently laboring mothers need to look pretty, so pretty that someone has designed a line of gowns called "Pretty Pushers."  A laboring mother is supposed to put the gown on for delivery (whether vaginal or C-section), look pretty (and I guess feel pretty), and then throw the gown away as it likely got a bit "dirty" during the delivery.  I'm offended in about 15 different ways by these gowns.  I just told Archer about these, and he is now laughing at how irritated I am by these gowns.  They just seem so unnecessary, and frankly, I don't think we need to extend Western culture's preoccupation with beauty and femininity into the delivery room.  I mean seriously, while giving birth I was never less concerned with how I looked or who saw what parts of my body.  I'm troubled by this further commercialization of labor and motherhood.  First we had the presence of "push presents"; then came professional photographers in the delivery room; and now we have "push dresses."  Does every part of pregnancy have to be commodified?

39 weeks

I am 39 weeks pregnant today.  That is all.

A new workspace

Last week I wrote about trying to work and getting organized in the hope that I'd be able to get some things done while I'm on parental leave in the fall and winter.  I'm still working on my list, but I have, with Archer's help, created a lovely work space for myself.  You see I work on campus.  I cannot work at home.  I'm too tempted to do laundry or mop the floor or put away clothes or cook.  I can think of a million things I need to do at home that distract me from my academic work.  When we moved, I sold my desk because, well, I didn't use it.  When I work at home I use the coffee table or the kitchen table as a work space.  For the next year, that just isn't practical, but neither is sharing a desk with Archer.  Let's just say I prefer to be organized while writing and he needs to room to spread out.

To create a work space, we made a trip to Ikea on Friday.  I wanted to purchase a specific desk, but I found something that was more functional and on sale!  The desk is nothing like I'd normally buy, but it fits exactly in the space we have.  Eventually (as in a few years) we'll have the entire basement refinished with an office space, and I can see this desk working really well in a small office with modern furniture.  In the meantime, I think it will work really, really well for the work I have planned in the next 10 months or so.  In fact, I've been using it all day!

*And yes, that is a Starbucks cup you see in the picture, and yes, it was a caffeinated beverage.  If you feel the need to judge a woman who is currently 38 weeks pregnant, caring for two older children, and not sleeping well, go right ahead.

In other news. . .

I often think that I was switched at the hospital as I often am unable to understand my family's religious, civic, and political beliefs.  I will now go build lego houses with my children, whom I do understand.

What I have learned from Facebook this morning

I am the only person in my extended family who doesn't think a 1% tax increase should one choose to opt out of "Obamacare" is a horrific thing.  In fact, I think it is quite reasonable as that 1% will go to help pay to insure another family.  I have also learned that I am akin to the devil because I think this.

38 weeks

Trying to get dressed at 38 weeks pregnant in the midst of a heat wave and still trying to look somewhat presentable is almost impossible, as I just told Archer after he asked me why I had changed my clothes for the fourth time.

My grandfather

 My cousin found this photo of our grandfather and sent me a copy. I may write a longer post at some point, but for now I just want to share this striking image of a man who has been instrumental in my life. In fact, Wild Man is named after him. In this image, he is smiling as he prepares to enter one of the many coal mines in which he worked throughout his life. The look captures the essence of his personality--open, loving, positive. This is the grandfather I remember, a man always ready to give a hug, to tell a joke, or to laugh with you. He has, unfortunately, become increasingly depressed since my grandmother died in November of 2010. He still shows us glimpses of this person, but he is now 86, suffering from numerous physical ailments, and in constant pain. He misses his wife, to whom he was married for almost 62 years; in fact, she died a few days before their 62nd wedding anniversary.  He rarely smiles now, and it can be difficult to get him to laugh or to join in family activities or conversations.  But I know this part of him is still in there somewhere, and this is how I think of my grandfather.

Today is Wild Man's last day of kindergarten.  In September, he will begin Grade 1 (as they say in Canada).  It's hard to believe he is old enough to be entering primary school.  I am feeling a bit nostalgic today for my baby boy, who is definitely no longer a baby.  He is a truly wonderful, loving, kind-hearted, inquisitive, and often-times stubborn little boy.  The first photo was taken a few weeks after he was born in 2006, and the second I took this spring as the daffodils he and I planted were blooming.

Trying to work

I've been trying to work for the last few weeks, with an emphasis on trying.  I've got a lot of projects that are started, but aren't yet finished.  I am fully aware that all work will stop for at least a month (if not longer) following the baby's birth, so I want to get as much done on these projects as possible.  Here is a list of the things I'm working on:

• transforming conference paper into an article length paper
• drafting conference paper which I will present in October
• editing the job talk I recently gave into an article, which I hope to send out next week
• finishing a book review that is long overdue
• drafting a book proposal on an anthology I'm working on with two colleagues from grad school
• researching an idea I have for a book project
• outlining revisions I need to make to a dissertation chapter which I want to transform into an article
• revamping a course I routinely teach into an online course (this is the only project I will not try to work on at all when I'm on leave as, by union regulations, I cannot work on anything connected to my teaching)

It is a long list, and somehow in the next two weeks I need to get our home office functional so I can use it while I'm on leave.  My hope is that by September I'll be able to work for an hour and a half a day while the baby naps.  That may only work for three days each week as Bear will be home with me and the baby two days a week (as an aside, cutting Bear down to part time and having Wild Man in school full time has dramatically cut down on our childcare costs--as in we'll be paying about a third of what we pay now), but I know, to some extent, what I'm getting into.  I'm focusing on being flexible.  I am also going to load my Kindle up with books for work that I've been wanting to read for a long time.  If anything, I'll get lots of reading done in the next few months. 

Full Term

I am officially full term (37 weeks) today.  Theoretically, the baby can come at any time now.  We've spent the past two weeks getting prepared.  I've washed and organized all the clothes.  We've been shopping for furniture more times than I care to mention as we can't agree on anything.  The baby's bag for the hospital is packed, and I've started throwing some things I will need into a bag.  We've also put together an emergency kit in the event we have a home birth.* We're more or less prepared for the baby's arrival. 

Archer even  spent part of yesterday cleaning out our car and installing and rearranging car seats.  We purchased two of these car seats, one for Bear and one for the baby.  These car seats have steel frames, which makes it possible for the manufacturer to make them narrower.  They are actually designed to fit three across.  Wild Man will stay in his current car seat, although we may order him one of these.  It isn't essential, as all three seats do fit in the back seat now, but one of these would allow us to put Wild Man in the middle rather than Bear.  It is currently a bit difficult to get Bear buckled into his car seat.  I have to perform a bit of acrobatics to buckle him while I'm in the front seat.  Again, it's manageable, just not ideal.  I'm also a little concerned about putting Bear right next to the baby.  I have no idea how he will react to the baby.  He is very excited about the idea of the baby, and he spends a bit of time every evening "talking" to the baby and "kissing" the baby.  He really does seem to understand that my stomach will go away and a baby will just appear at the house one day.  But the theory is much different than the reality.  Wild Man is old enough to distract the baby during a car ride or to retrieve a pacifier or even to hold a bottle.  Bear likely could do all of these things too, but he may also take out some frustration on the baby--poking eyes, pinching, and the like.  I'd be more comfortable if Wild Man were right next to the baby.  But with his current car seat that isn't possible for a variety of reasons.  We've decided to see how Bear reacts to the baby and then go from there.

This evening we will put the bassinet we purchased back together (I got it second hand, so I washed all the bedding) and we will also put the bassinet for the stroller together (also purchased second hand).  I need to spend some time sterilizing bottles and breast pump accessories (I gave mine away last summer, so I bought a new one off of eBay, at a reduced price).  Once that is done, it is really a matter of waiting.  I told Archer last night now that we've got everything organized (as organized as we can be, at least) I'll be a week late.

*As a side note, we've had several lengthy conversations about home births.  I'm actually fine with having a home birth, but Archer, who is concerned about complications, is not.  I do have fast labors, however.  We both realize we may have a home birth, even if that is not what we intend, so we wanted to be prepared in the event that we aren't able to make it to the hospital.

Happy Birthday, Bear!

I can't believe my sweet, rambunctious, stubborn, funny boy is three today!

Venting

As I posted a few weeks ago, Yetta and I have been getting along very well.  She has, however, made a few comments in the last few days that I'm trying hard not to let bother me.  To that end, I'm writing a post to get out my frustration rather than let it eat away at me.

• She called last night while Archer was taking Wild Man to soccer practice.  She called at 6:00, which she knows is dinner time at our house, and she wanted to have a lengthy conversation about the boys' school pictures.  Yes, that's right, she was calling to passive/aggressively remind me to send her copies of the boys' school pictures.  And I do mean passive/aggressively.
• While we were talking, she also asked if it is okay if she and Pita visit together during August.  Archer and I had thought that Yetta was coming alone and that Pita was coming sometime in the fall.  She assured me their visit will only overlap by 3 or 4 days; she told Archer 2 or 3 days.  I do not think I will be in the frame of mind to have them both in the house when the baby is only a few weeks old, but how can I say, "Um, no!"?  I've asked Archer to handle this as tactfully as possible.
• She also asked if we're planning to travel to Home State for Christmas.  Seriously. 
• She called this morning to wish Bear a happy birthday, which was incredibly thoughtful.  We were, however, trying to get out of the house (she called at 8:30), so Archer and I opted not to answer it.  Rather than leave a message, she hung up and called right back--three times.  So Archer finally answered it.  She also asked if we could have another birthday party for Bear when she's here in August.  Archer was forced to remind her we aren't having a birthday party for Bear (we are having some friends over for cake on Sunday, but that's it), and he was again subject to a lecture on what terrible parents we are.

I am fully aware that I am extra sensitive to everything right now.  In fact, last night Archer said something about renovating the basement, and I was suddenly in tears for no reason I could explain.  That said, I wish my MIL had it in her to be more aware that right now is not the best time to bombard me with lots of questions.  I am a place where I'm quite likely to be rude or start crying.  I am, after all, 36 1/2 weeks pregnant.

Having it all

In this month's The Atlantic, Anne-Marie Slaughter considers "Why Women Still Can't Have it All."  I haven't read the complete article, but I have read portions of it here.  I will likely write a longer post about this in the next few days, but for now I want to say that the idea of having it all is a bit absurd, at least to me.  I find this phrase as irksome as the phrase "achieving a balance." 

Updates

Summer is typically a time when I blog more, but the last few weeks have been taken up with a myriad of meetings, travel, and organization.  I'm resorting to an updates post to get back in the swing of blogging.

• My contract finally came in.  I am officially on a t-t line with a joint appointment in two departments that I never thought I'd be in, at least not permanently.  In some ways this is a relief--I  now have what so many of my grad school friends and colleagues are struggling to find: a tenure-track job.  In other ways though, it is a reminder that the thing I had been promised for over a year didn't work out.  I'm still coming to terms with that reality, it seems.  I am going to have to recreate myself as a scholar, at least to some degree, which I'm more or less okay with.
• I'm currently 36 weeks along, and we're in the process of getting organized.  All the baby clothes I've saved have been washed and put away.  We've bought a "fancy" stroller, second hand.  It came with the bassinet, which I think will be really useful throughout the fall as I will be meeting Wild Man at the bus during what I expect will be the baby's afternoon naptime.  I'm hoping to get the baby to sleep in the bassinet and then walk over to the bus stop without having to wake the baby up.  We'll see if the baby is amenable to my plan though.
• We've also bought a bassinet, second hand, as the baby will be in our room for the first few months at least.  
• We're planning relatively major renovations to the basement, which has a large room that is partially finished.  The plan is to completely finish it and turn it into a large bedroom for Bear and Wild Man.  Archer will be doing much of the work; thus, he will be the one making many of the decisions regarding the renovations.
• Archer can be indecisive, painfully so.  He has currently researched at least four options for insulating the basement, and he cannot decide which he wants to do.  My only requirement is that the insulation be environmentally friendly as I want to limit the amount of off-gassing the boys are exposed to.  Each of the options he is considering fulfills this requirement, and each is more or less the same price.  Two involve a bit more labor, but he argues will result in a better looking and longer lasting finished product.  My stance is the same.  I'm not the one doing the work, so I don't care.  
• We've also been shopping for a bed for Bear.  This is sort of essential, as Bear is currently sleeping in the toddler bed (which converts back into a crib) that the baby will use.  I estimate that we can make the bassinet work for about 4 months, so we do have some time.  Ideally though I'd like to have Bear in a twin bed by the beginning of August.  CU Land has remarkably few furniture stores.  Archer also feels strongly that Bear's furniture should match Wild Man's furniture.  This makes it difficult as we bought Wild Man's furniture second hand over three years ago.  It is a great set, including a captain's bed, a dresser with a mirror, and a bedside table, all made out of birch.  It needs to be refinished, a project we haven't had the time to undertake, but it is in great shape.  Plus we got all three pieces for around $350--a steal considering it is made out of wood.  So we either have to buy both boys new furniture or try to find Bear something that matches Wild Man's furniture.  Again, Archer cannot make a decision.  There is an unfinished furniture store in town, and we could get a similar bed in the same finish as Wild Man's at a reasonable price, again considering it will be wood.  Archer cannot decide "what makes the most sense," the phrase he uses when he is either unable or unwilling to make a decision.  At this point, I just don't care.  I've done all the legwork on this.  I've taken us to every single furniture store in town.  I've searched Craig's List and Kijijii, to no avail.  We haven't found anything he really likes.  So I'm giving him till next week to make a decision, and then I'm going to buy something without him.
• We've ordered new car seats for the baby and for Bear, much to our families' dismay.  They are all very concerned that we're not buying a mini-van.  Well, the new car seats total $700, which isn't cheap, but a new mini-van is well over $30,000.  We've managed for the past four years with only one car, primarily because Archer and I work in the same place.  Come 2013, it will be a bit harder to manage, as each of our children will be going to a different school (Wild Man to the French Immersion school in our district, Bear to the primary school in our neighborhood for JK, and the baby to the daycare on campus).  This will mean a lot of time in the car for Archer and me, or it could mean that we finally use the bus system, which is fairly good in CU Land.  We've just been lucky to not have to use it regularly thus far.  When we do buy a car, it likely won't be a mini-van, but a small SUV with four-wheel drive, a feature that would be very handy during winter.  Our families are upset, we think, because we cannot fit anyone else in our car when they come to visit.  Our logic is simple.  They come to visit no more than three times a year.  It is infinitely less taxing on our budget to rent a car when they come to visit than it is to buy a new car, but they don't seem to understand it.
• Our lives are about to change fairly dramatically, and I'm honestly not sure any of us is prepared.
• We do, at least, have a list of names that everyone in the family, including Bear and Wild Man, agree on, so Baby #3 will have a name, whether he proves to be a boy or a girl.

Discomfort

That is my current state of being.  I am in constant discomfort, although I'm trying hard not to complain. It likely doesn't help that this is my third pregnancy and that I'm not the biggest fan of being pregnant.  There I admitted that publicly.  I love being a mother, and I love my children.  I do not, however, love being pregnant.  In fact, I am scornful of any woman who says something like, "Oh being pregnant was so wonderful.  I loved every moment of it!  I was never sick and never uncomfortable and would do it over and over again!"  Frankly, I think such statements are crap.  Being pregnant has its wonderful moments, there is no doubt about that.  But, for me, the pregnancy begins and ends with morning sickness (throwing up at 35 weeks is NO fun); the middle includes a brief burst of energy that has been accompanied by constipation, breast pain, and sciatic pain.  Yes, feeling the baby move is wonderful and all of that, but honestly, there is a lot about pregnancy that I could live with out.  And yes, my cynicism is likely influenced by the fact that I am currently 35 weeks pregnant, that I am not sleeping well, and that I am in pain either when sitting or standing for too long.  Oh, all of my clothes feel too tight, my breasts are enormous (at least for me), and my fingers are starting to swell.  I am desperately craving sushi and margaritas, neither of which I can have, so I am more than a bit cranky. 

Waiting. . .

I just had a lovely conversation with the Dean's assistant, who called to let me know that a contract has been drafted.  I should receive it in the next week or so, once it has cleared all the appropriate channels and been signed by everyone.  At that point, I can negotiate if I want to.  I think, however, I'm just going to sign the damn thing.  It will be so good to have all of this behind me.

Home

For the past two days I've been in a lovely city to attend a major conference in my field.  The time away has been nice.  The panels I've attended have been (mostly) enlightening.  I've even managed to get a bit of work done.  But after being away for an entire week earlier this month, I'm miss Wild Man and Bear, not to mention Archer.  I'm traveling home tomorrow, and while it will be a long day, I'm happy to be going home.

A bit of good news

As I blogged about previously (sorry, I'm not linking right now), the dean has been committed to securing me a T-T line at CU.  I'm not one to question a dean, but I think this goal has a lot to do with keeping Archer, who is making a name for himself in his field, here as well as with keeping me here.  The fact that I can teach in three departments means that I represent a lot of the things the dean advocates for the future of this faculty.  Plus, on my current appointment, which is not T-T but is research focused, I've had one article accepted, sent out two others for review, and secured a $17,000 (yes, you read that correctly) curriculum development grant.  I think I've demonstrated what I can do in a research focused position.  On a different note, Archer has also received around $15,000 in three separate research grants since he's been at CU.  Financially, it just doesn't make sense to get rid of us.  Thus, after RD revolted (I've heard about 7 different versions of what happened, none from anyone who was actually there, so I still have no idea what went down), the dean immediately began pursuing another appointment for me.

On Wednesday I (again) presented a job talk and was interviewed.  This time, however, the whole process took less than 3 hours.  Here is what happened:

• 1:00--I gave my talk, following a lengthy Q&A, which turned into a fantastic conversation about my paper.
• 2:20--I took a break, while everyone attending the talk was asked to stay and offer their feedback to the committee.
• 2:45--my interview started.  I was asked lots of typical questions, and at one point, one committee member corrected another committee member on the content of my CV. That was weird, but it also meant I didn't have to be the one to correct the committee member who had misread my CV.
• 3:30--I left the interview room, and the committee met to discuss my appointment.
• 3:45--the chairs of the two departments in which I may be appointed came to my office to gleefully tell me that the committee had agreed to recommend that I be offered a T-T, joint appointment in their departments.  

I wanted to cry, literally.  They both gave me some really positive feedback on my talk and my answers during the interview, which was wonderful.  As an added bonus, one of Archer's colleagues attended my talk, and she sent him an email telling him how well she thought I did.  This is a woman whose work I know and respect, and she has a reputation for being a bit of a hard ass at such events.  She gives compliments rarely, so getting one from her means something.

Where does this leave me?  From a practical standpoint, I'm waiting to hear back from the dean's office on the terms of my contract.  I've yet to decide if I want to negotiate any of the terms.  Part of me wants to, but part of me wants to just sign the damn thing and move on.   From an emotional standpoint, this appointment feels right.  I'm not sure I can really explain why.  I will say that the response to my talk was vastly different than when I presented it during the first interview.  While I do think that it was well received that time, this time everyone in the room had offered a piece of positive feedback, and everyone remarked that the work I'm doing brings these two departments together really well.  It was an overwhelmingly positive experience.  I was nervous; I was really nervous given what happened last time.  But I left the room knowing that everyone who attended saw that my work is valuable and worthwhile.  That was not a feeling I had following the first interview.

I'm still not sure what this means for us long term.  But after a very tumultuous few months at CU, in which nearly every day raised another issue that caused me to be uncertain about how I would be treated in RD, I know now I'm in a place, both literally and metaphorically, where the people around me are committed to helping me develop as a scholar and a teacher.  That means a lot.

Moving Forward, Part 2

Moving forward after the debacle of interviewing for a position that I was repeatedly assured was mine has been harder than I thought.  At first, I experienced what I think are normal emotions: shock, anger, betrayal, confusion, more anger.  I'm trying hard to move forward.  To that end I've done a number of things that I didn't have to do, but that felt essential to maintaining my own sanity.

First, I've severed as many ties as possible with RD, without burning any bridges.  To accomplish this, I've had my name taken off of their website, and I've also had my primary affiliation on CU's website changed (this one necessitated a few phone calls).  I've relocated offices--this one was only possible because Dr. Writing, who has also had tenuous dealings with RD throughout her time at CU, understood why I didn't want to be in that department.  I've turned in my mailbox key.  I've removed my name from the faculty directory and my door.  All the while, I've thanked the staff, who have always been kind and cooperative, and I've also made sure to be courteous and polite with any RD faculty members I've had to deal with while accomplishing these tasks.  For the most part, this has been easy as the faculty members in administrative positions don't seem to be the ones who had issues with this appointment.  It likely also helps that the dean spoke directly to RD chair and told him to help me move my stuff without any question.  In fact, I think the dean, who graciously offered to have guys from the physical plant move all my boxes to my temporary office, made RD chair find the money in his budget to cover the cost.

Second, I've tried to get back to work.  I'm revising an article, which I hope to send out by next month, and I am working on an anthology proposal with two lovely colleagues, who also happen to be dear friends.

Third, I'm trying hard to focus on the positive.  I will likely end up with a T-T job once everything has settled down.  Given the state of the academic job market, securing such a position at the same university where Archer teaches is no small feat.  Plus, we're settled in CU Land.  This has, as I've suddenly realized, become home.  I really like it here.  That simple fact has enabled me to move past a lot.

I am dealing with some a bit of an identity crisis, though.  On Friday I found myself in tears after I realized that staying at CU likely means I will never teach a course in my primary field of research.  Yes, I will likely be able to focus on certain authors I study, and I will definitely be able to incorporate the genres I focus on.  But I may never teach another course on the Survey of Underwater Basket Weaving.  That was a bit hard to swallow.

For right now, I don't know what the future holds.  I know we'll be here next year.  Beyond that I can't say.  If I was asked that question a month ago, I likely would have said, "Oh, we'll be here indefinitely."  I has not in a place to even think about going back on the job market, nor was Archer.  Now I don't know.  We're taking things one day at a time.

Moving forward

Things are moving forward with a second attempt at securing me a tenure track appointment.  This process has already been infinitely more transparent and is moving faster.  I'm cautiously optimistic.  I can say my appointment will not have anything to do with Research Department.  I'm going to be cryptic for a few days until I know something more definite.

The Good and the Bad

Yetta and Pita are now home; they left on Saturday morning, so Archer, the boys, and I have had some time to settle back into our routine.  Their visit, most of which Archer and I were out of town for, went well, mostly.  I particularly enjoyed my time with Yetta, which is not always something I can say.  She and I, however, had several really long conversations.  She was incredibly supportive after the interview debacle, which was surprising.  She only asked once about the possibility of returning to the States.  For the most part, she was in a good mood, which meant I didn't need to be on edge, so we had a great visit.  I think it also helps that she's been battling a health problem that, while difficult to adapt to, has actually left her in better health. 

She has Meniere's disease, which is an disease of the inner ear.  One of the only ways to treat it without taking medication constantly is to cut sodium out of one's diet.  Doing this means she has had to change her diet drastically, which has led to some fairly dramatic weight loss.  In the past 6 months, Yetta has lost about 60 pounds, and because she can't eat fast food, has to watch what she eats when she goes out, and is determined not to suffer the effects of the disease, she has kept the weight off without a problem.  This means she gets around easier, feels better, and has more energy.  Those things mean she is a happier person. She also appreciated that Archer and I have made some changes to our diet so that it isn't much work for us to accommodate her when she comes for visit.  I've always cooked with very little salt, but I've started buying as many low-sodium or sodium free products as possible.  I also made sure she had lots of low-sodium or no-sodium things she could eat while we were gone.  She was surprised, and she said more than once how much that meant to her.  Hey, she came 1,000 miles to take care of my children; I figured that was the least I could do.

As for Pita, well, she was Pita.  Mostly she was great.  She loves the boys, and she devoted most of her attention to them, which is what I wanted and expected her to do.  She does lots of little things that grate on my nerves that I have to consciously overlook.  She never washes a dish.  NEVER.  She doesn't even take her own dish to the sink after a meal--Wild Man is 5, and he does this 85% of the time without being asked.  She doesn't push her chair under the table.  She is a large woman with a large personality, so she takes up a lot of space, both literally and figuratively.  Figuratively, she's like a big kid herself, so both Archer, Yetta, and I were constantly reminding her of the boys' schedule and to stop having tickle-fests 20 minutes before bed.  Literally, she weighs 400+ pounds.  This became an issue when she was in the kitchen while anyone was cooking.  My kitchen is not large; in fact, Archer and I struggle to cook in it together.  At some point we'll be able to redesign it, but that point is not anytime in the near future.  The size of my kitchen coupled with her size meant that I had to ask her to move several times just so I could get to the stove or the refrigerator.  She got annoyed because I asked her to move, and I got annoyed because she was in the way. 

From a different perspective, her size frustrates me because she is not in good health.  As I've said, my children love her.  I'd like her to be around for them.  I'm not sure how much longer she will be around given her myriad of health issues.  It seems that while Yetta has lost weight, Pita has gained, and there is nothing that I, who normally weighs under 110, can say to her. 

Pita has certain expectations that both Archer and I think are unreasonable, and she doesn't hesitate to make it known when her feelings have been hurt over something that really doesn't have anything to do with her.  One evening the subject of guardianship came up in a round about way (Yetta mentioned she was very nervous knowing Archer and I were on the same flight in case something happened to both of us, and we assured her that everything was taken care of financially for the boys), and Pita, who knows she has not been named as the boys' guardian, got very upset.  She actually left the dinner table and refused to speak to anyone for the remainder of the evening, including Bear and Wild Man.  So, as usual, the visit with Pita did present its own challenges.

Yetta will be back sometime in August, following the birth of #3, and I have no idea when Pita will be here.  Yetta is not fond of traveling by herself, so it is possible she would try to arrange the visit so she and Pita could travel together.  I've asked Archer to encourage her to come on her own.  It's just easier for everyone involved.

The Routine

We're settling back into our routine.  It is taking longer for the boys to settle in that I expected, primarily, I think, because Yetta and Pita are still here.  They leave today, so I'm hoping that will help.  Their visit has gone well, at least as far as Yetta and I are concerned.  We've had several great conversations, and we're learning more and more about each other.  Pita, well, she's Pita. She's had a hard time stepping back now that Archer and I are home.  She is still trying to "parent" Wild Man and Bear.  It irks me whenever someone else tries to parent my children in front of me, and it especially irks me when she does it as our values are very different.  I'm fine with her caring for my children for a week, but she is not someone I would feel comfortable being a daily presence in their lives.  It's doubly hard when everything becomes about her, but I'll save that for another post.

I met with the Dean yesterday, and s/he was helpful to an extent.  I got the distinct impression s/he didn't want to answer a lot of questions, which I found troubling.  The Dean laid out the available options, but did not offer much in the way of advice.  While every questioned I asked was answered, I did feel like the Dean was, well, being a Dean.  This entire situation has put the Dean in an awkward position, and likely, the Dean realizes I have grounds for a grievance (against the Dean, against RC, against the entire appointments committee of RD).  So I'm going to attribute the hesitancy to answer questions to that.  I'm going to try to meet with one more person early in the week to ask a few more questions before I give the Dean my final answer about where I want to be appointed.  And then we'll see what we see.

Anxious

My good friend J just emailed me.  She has offered to meet me at CU on Friday to pack up my office and then to take me out to lunch to cheer me up.  She is a wonderful friend, and I'm glad to have her in my life.  Her email, however, made the fact that I am returning to CU Land and all of the drama at CU very real. 

It seems like a small thing--changing offices.  But after not having an office for 3 years, I have grown to love my little office, which is even painted in a color I chose.  Being away has been a bit of a respite from reality. Yes, we've talked about everything, and I've communicated with Dr. Writing, Dr. Rhetoric, and the Dean.  We have a plan.  I know how I'm going to proceed. 

But I haven't actually had to face any of the unpleasant people yet (not that the above mentioned people are the unpleasant ones).  Suddenly I'm feeling a bit anxious about returning.  For now, though, I'm going to do my best to quiet that anxiety and enjoy my last evening away with Archer.

Wrapping Up

Today is the last day of our trip, and Archer and I are taking the day off from research.  Despite everything that transpired at the end of last week (was it really on a few days ago?  It seems like a lifetime in many ways), we've made the most of our time together.  His research proved to be very productive, and it now looks like he'll get an article out of the things he found.  He also now knows the images that he thought existed do in fact exist, so he will have to return to secure image rights for his book project.  For me, the research has been a bit more frustrating.  I came having no idea what I would find.  I was hoping for something specific, and while I didn't find what I was hoping for, I did uncover some interesting biographical things about an author I work on.  So now I have to figure out if what I discovered is at all significant which means doing a lot of research into secondary materials. 

As for the job stuff, my conversation with Dr. Writing and Dr. Rhetoric revealed about what I had expected.  Research Department (not the chair or the other member of the committee, it seems) used me to make a point, and that point is that they want nothing to do with partner-placements or joint appointments.  Fine.  They could have made that point without putting me through the ordeal of an "interview."  I meet with the Dean when we return, and we'll see what we see.  The Dean is pissed (D's words, not mine), and D is committed to securing a T-T line for me.  I have lots of questions, and I want answers before I say where I'd prefer to be appointed.  I am not leaving Teaching Department, but I know the Dean is leaning toward having me joint appointed in another department--one which I've worked in before and has a history of valuing partner-placements. 

Oh, and Dr. Writing has moved mountains (literally of books) so that I do not have to spend too much more time in my office that is located in Research Department.  Archer and I will move my stuff to my temporary office early next week.  It will be a relief not to have to be in that department in any way whatsoever.  I am also going to schedule an "exit interview" with Research Chair.  I feel that RC owes me some answers.  I realize I am not likely to get any satisfaction out of this meaning and that I will probably just get upset.  But if seeing me makes RC uncomfortable in anyway whatsoever, I'll take some joy in that. 

The lamb

About a week ago I had a conversation with the dean in which I firmly expressed that I did not want to be a sacrificial lamb for the partner placement initiative, such as it is, at CU.  The dean firmly agreed and indicated that everything that could be done would be done to prevent it.  I am acutely aware that the dean has two back up plans in place.  I do believe this dean is committed to ensuring that Archer and I stay at CU.  After all, as the dean reminded me, in the last 4 years, we've both brought in about $40,000 in grant money; Archer has made a name for himself in a fairly small field while teaching in a country that barely recognizes said field; I've designed 4 classes that have increased enrollment in 3 departments; and we've both demonstrated that we have strong research potential.  All the while, the dean added, while staying on the job market and balancing our home life with our careers.  The dean reminded me, however, (as deans are wont to do, I suppose) that sh/e could only control so much.  The dean reiterated that the joint appointment as it has originally been envisioned was still the way sh/e preferred to go--for lots of reasons, the primary one being that the two departments are about to merge.  I am the only person on campus who can teach in both departments.  The plan makes a lot of sense.

In an entirely separate conversation with the chair of Research department, I again stated I did not want to be made a sacrificial lamb.  RC (Research Chair) assured me that this was not going to happen, saying that if a decision was made by the appropriate committee to move forward with the interview then the appointment would go through.  I said again, "I'm not sure I believe that is the case; however, this appointment reflects the career track I want to be on.  Therefore, I will trust you."  That is where I made my mistake.

The interview happened on Monday.  I thought it went well.  The questions following my talk turned into a conversation.  Two faculty members stayed after the Q&A ended to follow up on issues in which our research areas overlap.  The following interview was also a conversation.  Lunch went well.  The grad students seemed to like me.  Dinner was a bit awkward, but it was fine.  RC assured me I had put my best foot forward and that all would go well.

The dean called me yesterday about 40 minutes after Archer and I landed for our babymoon/research trip.  The committee met sometime yesterday to finalize the appointment, or so I had been told before I left town.  All had not gone well.  I was, in fact, made the sacrificial lamb.  I will not be holding a joint appointment in Research department and Teaching department.  I know nothing more than that.  I have a conference call scheduled with the chair of TD later today.  I'm hoping to get answers, but I suspect TC will only be able to tell me so much.  I may be scheduling a meeting with my union rep when we return to CU Land as well.

For real . . .

Today I have learned, finally, how horrific academic politics can be.

An update

Monday went well.  My talk seemed to be well received; the interview portion became a dialogue very quickly; and everyone was polite and cordial.  The biggest shock: more than half of the people present had absolutely no idea I was pregnant.  No one commented on it--Canada has signed Human Rights legislation, after all.  There were lots of shocked stares, however.  Oh well.  The committee is supposed to be meeting tomorrow.  I expect to hear something at some point via email as Archer and I leave for our babymoon/research trip tomorrow.

As for that, Yetta and Pita are here, and the boys are having a blast.  I think they'll be okay, although I know Bear will be a bit moody by Sunday.  I've stressed the importance of keeping them on their schedule, and Yetta seems keen to follow it.  I know they'll be safe, loved, and fed.  But I also know lots of things will get done in a way much different than I would do them.  That bothers me a bit, to be quite honest.  But Archer and I need this time together.  I am exhausted.  I need sometime to just be with my husband, to think about things not related to CU, and to have some adult fun.

Preparing

Somehow, last week, all the planets aligned in my favor (or at least I think it was in my favor), and Research Department decided a joint appointment was a good idea.  Oh, and that directly going against the express wishes of the dean was likely not a good move.  So my interview that has been scheduled for about 2 weeks is going forward tomorrow.  I've been prepping for the last 2 weeks, as you might imagine, but I spent a good portion of yesterday putting some things together.  Today I'm rereading my job letter, my writing sample, and my job talk.  I more or less know what questions to expect, but I want to put on the best possible "show" I can tomorrow.  Archer has taken over with the boys.  They are installing a ceiling fan right now, and later they will make a trip to Home Depot to buy some things for the garden.  He even has my muffin recipe in hand so he and Wild Man can make muffins while Bear naps later today.  My biggest concern right now: I woke up with a cold this morning.  Here's hoping I can stave the worst of it off with fluids and physical, if not mental rest.

Pet Peeve

I know that what I'm about to write makes me an incredibly uncharitable person in many ways, but it is a personal pet peeve.  Therefore, the peeve likely says a great deal about me.  I'm okay with that.  Please don't remind me of my uncharitable nature; I'm already well aware of it.  I'm working on it.  I am, however, self-aware enough to realize this pet peeve is likely not going away anytime soon.  I have never told anyone who does what I'm about to describe how much it annoys me;  I have always successfully managed to hide my annoyance because I do know that, ultimately, the people making the annoying statement are making it out of love.  But honestly, it still irritates me.

Here it is: I do not like it when other people refer to Wild Man and Bear as "my little boys."  Call them your nephews, your buddies, your sweethearts, your grandsons, your great-grandsons, your friends.  Do not call them "my little boys."  They are not "your little boys."  They are mine and Archer's little boys, and we don't even refer to them that way.  Why?  Because, ultimately, they are individuals and we don't own them.  And neither do you.

And just like that . . .

the tide shifts.

I'm sorry for being cryptic.  I will write about everything that has transpired today, once I process it all.  Good, bad?  At this point, I honestly don't know.

Wild Man, Pink, and peer judgement

Wild Man loves pink.  In fact, pink is his favorite color.  He frequently laments the fact that boys' clothes aren't pink.  You see, he doesn't want to wear skirts or dresses.  He is quite happy in his cords and polo shirts, but he wants his polo shirts to be pink.  Or he wants a few of them to be pink.  Archer has several shirts that have pink in them, and Wild Man is having a tough time understanding why his father has pink shirts, but he doesn't.  (As an aside, I have a hard time with this myself.  Why is it okay for a grown man to wear pink, but not okay for a five year old boy?  I'm sure it has something to do with parents not wanting their sons to be too "girly" whereas an adult male has already established his masculinity, but I have no hard evidence to back this up.)  So Wild Man makes do.  He often wears a pink headband to school, especially on days he wants to dress up, and he wears his one pink shirt on any day he deems special.

Recently I've been putting juice in Wild Man's lunch bag for SK rather than water (this is a long story, but suffice to say, he doesn't drink the water and was saying he wasn't feeling well; I decided he was dehydrated, so I started sending juice.  He drinks the juice).  One day he asked me to put his juice in his pink sparkly insulated cup (like this one, only pink and sparkly).  I said sure, thinking "a cup is a cup is a cup," and began putting that cup in his lunch bag every day. 

A few days ago, while I was volunteering in Wild Man's SK classroom, one of the little girls in his class walked over to me during snack time.  She tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Wild Man's mom (this is what all the kids in the class call me), why do you let Wild Man bring a pink cup to school?  Don't you think that it is weird for a boy to have a pink cup?"  While she asked me this question, I looked over at Wild Man, who was sitting 2 tables away, happily drinking his juice and eating the strawberries I had packed him.  He hair was, as usual, hanging in his face, and he had green and pink paint on his pants from an art project he'd worked on earlier in the day.  I turned to his classmate, who was dressed head-to-toe in pink and silver sequined Mary Jane sneakers.  I said, "Well, Wild Man really likes pink, so no, I don't think it is weird.  Why do you think it is weird?"  She said, "Boys aren't supposed to like pink."  At this point, Wild Man overheard our conversation and walked over to us.  He said, "I like pink a lot, so I wanted a pink cup.  Pink is my favorite color.  I think anyone can like pink."  The girl looked at me as if to say, "Um, no, that isn't right," but she returned to her table and resumed eating her snack.  Wild Man continued his conversation about Star Wars, and I returned to the list of tasks Wild Man's teacher had asked me to complete. 

I am very proud of how Wild Man responded, and I'm really proud of how confident he is.  He likes pink.  He doesn't care what anyone else says, and he is clearly capable of handling such comments on his own.  I do have to admit that I was more than a bit surprised that a girl not a boy expressed discomfort with Wild Man having a pink cup.  I've been waiting on one of the boys in his class to say something about his pink shirts, his ties (yes, he occasionally wears a tie to school), his pink headband, or his pink cup.  I wasn't prepared for the girls to say something.  Now I'm wondering what that says about my own conceptions of gender.