A big deal

For the past ten days Bear has gone poop on the potty rather than in a pull-up.  This is a big deal in our house, a really big deal.

Productive, sort of

Last week and the weekend were productive for me.  I finished editing some essays for a project I'm working on.  I finally finished the introduction and first part of a paper I need to work on.  I ordered a bunch of books for another project, and I am in the process of submitting the receipts for those books (this is for the grant I was awarded last year).  I have read abstracts for a panel I'm proposing for a major conference in my field and am in the process of finalizing the proposal.  I'm trying to be productive today.  George, however, is teething and has a cold.  We've been up since 5:30 after being up several times throughout the night.  I need a nap, but every time I get George to sleep he wakes up.  I will now return to trying to be productive, and by that, I mean I'm going to put George in his activity center so I can watch The View.

Scattered

I'm writing this in an attempt to pull together my scattered thoughts.  I'm trying to work on a paper, but I'm thinking of the 18 other things I need to do while Archer is managing George.  My thoughts are scattered as I'm, mentally, somewhere between maternity leave and work.  I want to be working.  I want to write and compose course descriptions.  I want to put together a research grant so I can do some archival work this summer.  But I want to hang out with George, pick Wild Man up from the bus stop, and paint with Bear.  I want to make scones and stew, but I want to read and take notes too.  I want to stop thinking about home and try to focus on this task, but since I'm sitting in my home office, surrounded by crayon drawings, baby toys, and toy cars, I'm finding that a bit difficult.

Letting Go

I spoke with my dad today, very briefly.  I called my mom, and he asked to speak with me.  This is a rarity.  My dad and I tend to speak through my mom or through short emails.  For a moment, I was really happy my dad asked to talk to me.  I thought, "Hey, maybe some of the conversations we had over the holidays had an affect."  Then he said, "I just wanted to ask what Archer wants for his birthday.  You haven't told me anything yet."  I sighed and said, "I'll get him to email you, Dad.  Thanks for thinking of him."  He then said good-bye and passed the phone back to my mom.  Every January, my father repeatedly asks what Archer wants for his birthday.  It starts on Christmas Day and continues until Archer's birthday, sometimes well after.  I usually manage to come up with something--a book, a CD, a sweater.  I am always, however, hurt by my father's intense preoccupation with Archer's birthday.  You see, my dad never asks me what I want for my birthday, nor does he take part in any gift my mom sends me; similarly, he never asks the boys what they might want for their birthdays or for Christmas.  So as thoughtful as my dad is being of Archer, he seemingly forgets me and his grandsons on our birthdays.   

I am officially letting go of my feelings of disappointment and hurt.  My dad loves my husband.  I can't let that bother me.  I choose to be happy that he cares about my husband.  I know myself well enough to know that I will still struggle with this, but I will try.

Confessions of a Skinny Girl

I am a "skinny girl," whatever that means.*  I'm 5'3" and weigh about 108 pounds.  I've never been on a diet, not even after having my children. In fact, five months after giving birth to my third child I am back in my pre-pregnancy clothes with little or no effort.  I am the kind of woman other women hate, as I have been told many, many times in my life.  Because I'm petite, people tend to assume that I don't have body issues, that I'm comfortable in my own skin.  While almost every woman I know complains about her body issues to her friends, I am not allowed to do this.  In fact, if I say, "I don't like how I look in X,"  I am actually mocked.  I've been told by more than one good friend, "The skinny girl doesn't get to complain."  I, a "skinny" girl,  have some confessions to make. 

• I do have body issues, and I do want to talk about those issues with my friends.  
• Whenever someone says, "You look great, and I only hate you a little bit," my feelings are hurt.  
• "Skinny" girls aren't skinny because we want to make women who aren't "skinny" feel bad.
• Even though I don't diet, I do watch what I eat, and I do eat healthily.  
• I spend as much time thinking about food and my body as you do.
• I think I look awful in a bathing suit, and I'm not thrilled with the state of my abs.
• I don't think I'm skinny enough.

Here is the biggest confession of all:

• I have a skewed body image, as do most "skinny" girls.  Every time someone pays me a genuine compliment (and really, I feel like those are rare as most compliments include the statement "I hate you!" which I am meant to take as a joke), I think to myself, "Really, that person clearly doesn't see what I see. I think I could stand to lose a few pounds, and I really need to do more crunches."

So the next time you tell a "skinny" girl you hate her because of her size, think about how she feels about her own body first.

*I think this will be a series of posts.

The first step

Keeping with my theme, the first thing I need to "let go" is disappointment over certain relationships, namely the one I have with my father.  I could write a lengthy post about my dad, whom I love so very much.  Then I'd end up in tears, and I'd be dwelling on things.  Instead I want to write a few things that I need to remember about my dad that will help me let go of my disappointment about our relationship.

• I am an adult, and I am as  responsible for the state of our relationship as he is.
• My dad is not at the place he thought he'd be in at 64, either financially or in terms of his health.
• My dad comes from a time when the father's primary responsibility was to be the "breadwinner."  For a variety of reasons, he feels like he has fell short in that respect.  Almost everything he does is colored by this belief.
• My dad did not have a good relationship with his own father.
• My dad (who is technically my stepfather) has never lived with children younger than 5 for an extended period of time.  He truly has no idea how to relate to young children.  He also believes children should just do as they are told without question.
• My dad will always rely on my mother to convey things to me; he doesn't want to engage in any sort of emotional exchange because he is afraid I will see him get emotional.
• My dad does the best he can.  Often that isn't enough, but I need to remember that he firmly believes that.

Resolutions

Before we left Home State, Yetta asked me if I had made any resolutions.  Her resolutions are straightforward, she told me: maintain her low-sodium diet (long story, but since she's been on it she's lost over 100 pounds and is much happier and healthier), try not to engage Pita in any arguments (this one will be difficult to keep, I'm betting), and to purge her house of some unnecessary stuff.  I didn't really respond other than to encourage her. 

You see, I'm not really a resolutions sort of person.  I try (emphasis on try) to identify things that need to be changed throughout the year and to work on issues as they come.  Some times I'm successful, sometimes not.  I could type up a whole list of things that I want to work on right now, but I'm not certain I see that as productive.  Profgrrrl identifies a theme that she wants to focus on each year, and I've been thinking about this technique for a while.  I've been trying to pinpoint the biggest issue I feel I have right now.  I have a hard time letting go of the little things; I do not focus on the moment very well.  So I've decided that this will be the year of "letting go."  It is a bit cliche and even a bit cheesy, I know, but I do think it will be helpful to me to remember that "letting go," whether it is bad feelings, something that didn't get done, or things I no longer need, will help me declutter my mind and my life.  That is my goal for this year.

We're home!

Happy New Year, everyone!

We arrived home yesterday after a very early morning flight, a very short layover, and a 2-hour drive.  The children did remarkably well, but then, they tend to travel well as we've done so much of it.  CU Land has approximately 6 inches of snow on the ground.  Wild Man was so excited to see snow that he asked if we could wait to open our Santa presents so he could go play.  As Bear was equally happy to be in his own space, Archer and I agreed.  After playing in the snow for about 45 minutes, Wild Man came inside to get warm and dry.  Then he asked if we could open presents.  He was a bit disappointed we couldn't make homemade pizza for dinner, which is one of our holiday traditions, but we promised him we'd make it one night this week.  He said, "No store bought pizza, Mommy.  We have to make it from scratch!"  All in all, we had a relaxing late-afternoon and evening.

As I steal away a few moments to type this, Bear and Wild Man are "organizing" their new toys.  Our playroom is far from organized, but they are happy.  George is happy to have his things too.  He has spent some quality time in his exer-saucer this morning, and he enjoyed sitting in his high chair last night.  After more than a week sleeping between Archer and me, it will take some work to get him back in  his crib, but I'm not stressing out about anything today.  I'm as happy as my children to be home.

Christmas preparations

We're prepared, or as prepared as we're going to be.  We travel to home state in 2 days.  We're mostly packed.  The packages have been shipped--actually I ordered almost everything online and had it shipped directly there.  The boys know that they will only receive one or two of their Santa gifts while we're there.  Santa is bringing the rest to CU Land.  I've spoken to my mom, and she's done shopping.  Yetta, well, that's another story.  I'm not sure how one expects to get hard to get items when one doesn't start shopping until Dec. 20th.  I could say more, but I won't.  That is all.

There is no such thing. . .

as a worthless human being.  We do not know the details every others' lives.  We don't know their hardships, their struggles, their illnesses.  We don't know what may compel someone to enact acts of violence.  We should concern ourselves with taking care of the survivors and with forgiving.  I'm not usually the sort of person to quote Bible verses, but in light of all the hateful things being said about a boy, (yes, he was a boy himself) who did commit a horrific act of violence that ended the lives of 27 other people and his own I feel compelled to do so. 

"Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven." Luke 6:37

Things I never expected to do. . .

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

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

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

Holidays and gender

I'm up later than I should be completing holiday-oriented tasks.  I've addressed Christmas cards, which I designed and ordered.  I've also done most of the decorating, shopping, and menu-planning.  As I was addressing envelopes, it struck me how much of the holiday is gendered.  Archer decorated the outside, set up the tree, and hung lights.  He has done some shopping with me, and we did discuss what we would buy for the boys.  I bought all the "extra" gifts--for teachers (4 in total), friends, nieces, and nephews.  In fact the only gift Archer has bought entirely on his own is the one we're getting for his mom, and that is because I told him I wasn't doing it.  To be honest, more than half of the stuff I do isn't essential (I mean we didn't have to decorate a gingerbread house last weekend), but it is fun for the boys and helps make the holiday special for them and us.  That said, Archer just wouldn't think of a lot of stuff--like sending Christmas cards or buying gifts for the boys' teachers.  I know that women do the bulk of relationship building, but still I find it frustrating.  When I put the Christmas cards in front of him to sign, he'll ask why we aren't sending cards to about half a dozen or so people.  In the past I've just added them to the list.  This year I'm going to tell him if he wants to send cards to his old friends and family he can address the cards.

Reflecting

I haven't been blogging much, and while part of that is due to the fact that I'm occupied with other tasks, it is also because I'm considering how necessary or relevant this blog is to me.  I began this blog over six years ago, when I was still a grad student and about to have my first child.  In those six years I've used this blog to chart my journey through grad school, motherhood, and the start of my career.  I've used this as a space to journal my thoughts, fears, and development.  I sense that this place will become important to me once I'm no longer on leave, but for now, I'm not feeling the need to journal as much.  I am reveling in the time I have away from academia.  I'm enjoying not having myself fractured into so many pieces.  I may never be able to experience being a stay-at-home mom again, and I have to say that I am embracing that role.  I'm not going to attempt to define what it means to me.  I will just say that I'm finding this blog less important to me right now.  That may change in a few weeks or even a few hours.  But for now, I'm going to stop worrying about posting here.  I'm sure I'll be back, probably even later this week.  But I won't be posting here everyday, and for now, I'm okay with that.

Thanksgiving

I have lots and lots to be thankful for.  But today is not Thanksgiving in CU Land.  Thanksgiving was in October here.  Wild Man had school today.  Archer had to teach.  Bear, George, and I went to the park.  We had chicken, broccoli, and mac and cheese for dinner.  We didn't even have dessert.  For us, it was an ordinary day.  And that is okay with us.  I have had to explain this to every family member who called today though.  I was happy to talk to everyone, but after the fourth phone call it was a bit annoying to have to explain yet again that "Nope, it isn't Thanksgiving here."  We've lived here for 3+ years.  I think people would have figured this out by now.

Seriously?

It is the time of year at CU where faculty are required to submit their CVs to be reviewed on their annual performance.  Although I'm on leave I am submitting my materials because I've heard that people who don't submit materials (even though they aren't required to for a given year) are often given bad scores.  I accomplished a lot last year, so I don't want a bad score. 

As I was stealing a few minutes to work on these materials I received an email from one of the admin assistants in the department in which I was formerly appointed (you know, the one that screwed me over).  The dean informed her that I am to submit my materials to that department to be reviewed for last year.  Um, excuse me?  Why would I want to do that?  How is that supposed to be fair?  Seriously?  So I will do as I'm told, but I am also very familiar with the grievance process.  And I am more than prepared to file a grievance if I get an unfair review.

The sun is out

I'm sitting at my kitchen table while George naps (have I mentioned that I finally have a baby who will put himself to sleep) on his activity mat, and the sun is streaming through the kitchen window, casting a lovely pattern on the floor.  I've had coffee and breakfast (both accomplishments given the way the last few days have gone for us).  I've answered emails.  I've done some research on Christmas presents.  I've started drafting a CFP for a panel I want to propose for a major conference in my field.  I've finished an editing task that was hanging over my head.  I'm feeling better and more like me today.  Who knows how long it will last, but I will enjoy it while I can.

I'm not good . . .

at asking for help.  I've decided just to throw that out there.  I've been struggling the past few days, for a variety of reasons.  I'm not sleeping well (even though George is); I'm getting over a cold; I'm stressed out about work and extended family issues.  On top of that, Archer was out of town all weekend.  My niece, Brown-Eyed Girl, came to help me, but still, I was doing most things on my own.  I'm currently weepy and edgy and have been for a few days now.  Archer's immediate response is to ask if I have PPD, and while I do appreciate that he is aware of that possibility, I do think I'm entitled to a few bad days.  I managed a longish nap today (about 1 1/2 hours), so I'm not as edgy.  But still, I'm not feeling like myself. 

There is something about November for me.  I seem to go through something like this every November, which I'm only realizing as I type this.  November in CU Land is horrible--grey, dark, cold.  With the time change, it is getting dark around 4:45, which is just terrible.  We've not had much sun for weeks, and George and I have been cooped up in the house most days.  I think I need to be more proactive and find things that will get the two of us out of the house a bit more, and I definitely need to get out of the house on the days that Bear is home with us.  I don't think this post is particularly coherent, but oh well.  I'm not feeling particularly coherent today.

Job Frustration

I met with the chair of one of the departments that I am appointed in.  Although I know her, she is new to the chair's position, and she was on leave when I was appointed.  Thus, we hadn't spoken since I'd been appointed as my leave had already started by the time she got back from her leave.  It was an interesting meeting.  She gave me some tips on securing tenure, took a look at my CV, and reassured me I don't have to change my research area.  She then told me what I more or less already knew: I will be teaching the huge introductory survey often.  I'm not thrilled with this, but whatever.  I can handle it.  I then told her about the travel course I designed and received $17,000 to run from a grant that I worked on for several months last fall.  She was pleased, but a bit taken aback.  There is, apparently, no way the class can work in this department.  Long story short: the class is an underwater basket weaving class, this isn't an underwater basket weaving department.  In fact, I am not appointed in a department that teaches underwater basket weaving.  It seems that neither of these departments is particularly interested in me teaching this class.  It also seems I will be having a long conversation with the dean about this particular situation. 

Do it!

Go vote!  I could say that I don't care who you vote for, but that isn't entirely honest.  I do care more that you vote!

Fixing things and getting tenure

At the conference I attended several weeks ago, several panelists addressed what they see as major problems in the academy.  The biggest issue seemed to be how does one address these problems and still get tenure? The problems are many, as many of you know.  In a single conference, I attended panels considering the problems of a specific kind of scholarship, digital publications, and service.  Each of these things is particularly relevant to me as I want to get into the specific-kind-of-scholarship, I have submitted an essay to a digital journal, and I do a lot of service (my two departments are small, so this is a necessity).  Often these things aren't given a lot of merit in the academy, for a whole lot of reasons--some valid, some not.  Everyone I spoke with agreed that these things need to be considered/addressed differently.  Essentially, the academy is outdated, and we're all operating under two models, so to speak.  We work under the more modern model in our daily lives, but when it comes to getting tenure, we then operate under a model that is about 15 years out of date.  Promotion and Tenure committees are outdated across the board.  We all want to get tenure, so we play the game, even though we disagree with the game.  There weren't a lot of ideas about how to fix the game.  The primary one was this: get tenure and then start advocating for your junior colleagues.  I appreciate that idea, but it isn't the most expedient solution.  It also seems that once many of us get tenure we'll be ready to do the things we want to do rather than take on advocacy roles (this was an issue that was brought up in at least two panels).  So this leaves us with no real solution. 

I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but I have been thinking about it a lot.  I am in a non-traditional appointment, so I'd like to think I could do some non-traditional research.  I think that would be valued within my home departments, but I'm not sure how it would be received within my faculty and university at large.  It seems like there must be a way to get everyone on the same page, but that also seems to be a rare thing within an academic institution.