A Return, of Sorts

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

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

Still here, sort of

I'm still here, and I often think about posting.  I just rarely get around to it.  I'm not 100% sure why.  Much of my energy is funneled elsewhere.  I'm currently not doing a lot of my own writing.  I'm wrapped up in grading, in teaching, in doing some service work.  When I get home, I am involved in other things, namely with mothering and trying to find time to have a conversation with Archer.  Life is crazy, but it is for everyone, isn't it?  I'm no longer as certain as I once was what will become of this space.  I don't want to be a blogger who only blogs occasionally.  I find value in writing more than just sporadically.  That said, I now communicate with those I've met through this blog in other ways, so I no longer see this blog as my only way to communicate with those people, a few of whom have become very important to me.  I may be back, and I may not.  I just don't know yet.

Having a dog . . .

is nothing like have a baby.  Nothing.  I'm just saying.

A belated happy birthday

On October 20th, this guy

turned 7.  I am so thankful to be his mother.  Wild Man is kind, thoughtful, and loving.  His generosity of spirit pushes me to be a better mother and a better person.

It's been a crappy week . . .

I'm not prepared to say more than that, but I felt the need to acknowledge publicly that it has been a really crappy seven days.  I'm not optimistic that the next seven will get much better.

Saying no

I've gotten really good at saying no.  I often say no--to my children, to my students, to my colleagues.  You see, I have to say no.  My life is structured in such a way that if I don't say no things don't get done.  I just said no to a colleague, a colleague whom I say no to quite frequently.  This colleague needs me to host a dinner for a visiting speaker as the colleague has a conflict.  S/he can't be two places at once, so s/he asked me if I'd relieve hir of one responsibility.  I said no.  It's an evening event, and given that I teach on Tuesday evening and that I'm guest lecturing for this colleague on Wednesday evening I have no desire to attend another evening event this week.  I just don't.  And I said as much.  My colleague was upset, and I do understand that.  But I can't do it.  More importantly, I don't want to do it.  I do the amount of service required of me, and I do it well.  I'm not up for taking on anything else.  I don't much care if I get the reputation as the person who says no.  I don't much care if people think I use my kids as a reason to not attend evening events.  I've learned the hard way that being nice won't get me very far at CU Land.  And I'm not going to feel bad or feel guilty for saying no.

Sleep

I'm also learning that my new normal means that I operate with about 6 hours of sleep a night.  This is not a good thing, but it is just how things are working out right now.

Finding my groove

I am slowly finding my groove.  I'm slowly figuring out what it means to be a working mother of three.  I'm slowly figuring out what things I can let go of and which things have to be done.  It's been a rough few weeks, but now that we have a schedule, now that I know what to expect from most days, I feel like we're getting through the struggle.  I think we're all figuring out what normal is for us now.  That's kind of a good feeling.

The world is made for big breasted women . . .

I am a small breasted woman.  In fact, I only have cleavage when I'm pregnant or first breast feeding.  I've been nursing George for well over a year now, so my breasts are back to their normal size.  I'm at the point where I no longer need breast pads, nor does my breast size fluctuate throughout the day.  George generally only nurses in the evening and perhaps once during the night, so I'm not producing a lot of milk.  Given that, I'm ready to stop wearing nursing bras, even if I'm not ready to wean him yet.  I last bought bras when I was pregnant, so I don't have any bras that fit.  Friday I went shopping.  My demands are pretty simple.  I wanted to buy three or four bras, in my size, that will give me some lift and a bit of coverage.  In all honesty, I want bras that prevent my students and my colleagues from seeing my nipples.  In my mind, that seems like a fairly simple desire.

As I tried bras on, it became clear that I am now almost a full cup size smaller than I was before I started nursing George.  (As an aside that means I've lost almost two cup sizes since Wild Man was born).  I now wear a Double A, for those of you who are interested.  I quickly discovered that I could buy any bra I wanted in any size from 34B to 42DD.  But the Double A is elusive.  The sales person at one lingerie store told me it's easier to go to a specialty store to buy bras in Es, Fs, or Gs (for which I am well aware women have to pay exorbitant prices) than it is to buy Double As.  I was advised to order them online.  But I want to try them on first, I explained.  She suggested I go to the girls' department.  Needless I left the store.

*And before anyone suggests it, I did try on my "sister size," which is apparently a size smaller in width, but a cup larger.  That size didn't fit very well.

An Event

This weekend we had our children baptized.  The ceremony was for all three of them, which made it both chaotic and incredibly special.  I'm still trying to process everything associated with the baptism, including our decision to do it as well as my reaction to it.  I think I'll be writing about this again.  For now I want to say that I am generally fairly ambivalent about religious ceremonies.  For reasons I don't completely understand I was deeply touched by this ceremony, both by the number of friends and family who attended the ceremony and by the reaction of our church community.  I didn't expect to feel anything more than moderately happy that we'd formally introduced our family to the church we've joined.  It was more than that, though.  I can't put it into words just yet, but it was important and good and uplifting.  I went to bed on Sunday feeling as though we'd done something really significant for our children.  What that is remains to be seen, but I'm really happy that we made the decision to have them baptized.

Something new

I just volunteered to teach Church School two Sundays this fall, which is something I never thought I would do.  I do have an ulterior motive.  Bear refuses to go to Church School, preferring to sit with Archer and I and "listen" to the service.  I volunteered to teach his age group in the hopes of encouraging him to participate in the activities for the children. 

Getting there

I am getting there.  This schedule is starting to feel routine.  I'm starting to adjust to our new normal, as it were.  We're also starting to figure out how this schedule is affecting each of us.

For example, Bear has adjusted to JK wonderfully; in fact, his teacher told me that he has adjusted better than some of the kids who are now in SK.  He is, however, a crabby, cranky mess the first 45 minutes he is home from school.  This can wreak havoc on the afternoon.  We're starting to figure out, though, that he needs some time to decompress.  So, we've been letting him have some quiet time to himself when he first gets home.  Some days he colors, some days he paints, some days he looks at books by himself.  After about 30 minutes, he is back to his usual happy self. 

As for me, I am relying a lot on our schedule.  I work when the boys are at school.  I focus on being with them when we're home together.  Archer and I are squeezing in moments together in between everything.  I won't lie; it's been tough.  It's chaotic, and the evenings and afternoons are often frenetic.  We get home, we unpack, we play for a while, then we do homework, we practice music, and we make dinner.  After dinner we have bath, storytime, and bed.  Archer and I often manage to squeeze in a few moments of work after all three boys are asleep, or we just hang out together before falling asleep and starting all over again. 

No, we don't . . .

have after school care, I have said at least 200 times since school began.  And then I think to myself, "Not that it is any of your damn business."  Inevitably, I get a look of astonishment, followed by, "Oh, okay, I guess we'll have to make meetings work around that schedule."  And I respond, "Yes, I guess we will, or else I'll just have to miss the meeting."

So no, we don't have after school care for Wild Man and Bear.  Actually, we only have it two days a week.  Those two days a former student of mine brings them home from school and stays with them until we get home.  Mondays I work from home, so Archer gets to stay a bit later at his office.  Fridays Archer works from home, so I get to stay a bit later at my office.  We did this for several reasons.  First, we're paying for full-time childcare for George.  Adding in the cost of after school care for Wild Man and Bear was more than our budget could take, or more accurately, it was more than we were willing for our budget to take.  Second, we're in the habit of picking our children up by 4:15 or 4:30, which means we'd be paying roughly $280 per child per month (for a total of $560 per month) for about forty-five minutes of care per day.  That didn't make sense.  This is a schedule/arrangement that works for us.  And if one more person asks me about it, I am likely to lose my cool.

As an aside, my colleagues who don't have children (or who have grown children) seem to get this decision.  It's the colleagues who have children the same age as Wild Man and Bear who are the most judgmental.  I am struggling to understand that.

One day at a time

As I've been writing, I am having a hard time transitioning back to full time work.  In some ways, it seems odd for me to write that.  I never stopped working.  While on mat leave with George, I wrote 2 conference papers, attended 2 conferences, wrote an essay for an anthology, co-edited said anthology, and co-wrote introduction for said anthology.  I submitted the anthology to a publisher, along with two colleagues, and said anthology is now under contract with a reputable academic press.  I devised a project and wrote a grant for said project, which was funded.  I did a lot while I was on mat leave.  But I wasn't teaching.  I wasn't going to meetings, which seem endless this time of year.  I wasn't answering student emails.  I wasn't doing a lot of things that I'm doing now.  I feel like there isn't enough time in the day to be the kind of academic, the kind of mother, and the kind of partner to Archer that I want to be. 

Here is where I'm supposed to write something pithy about finding balance.  Well, I happen to think balance is bullshit.  I do.  It is impossible to achieve any sort of balance.  Things fall through the cracks.  It just happens.  I do--Archer and I do the best we can.  We try to make sure we talk to each other for 5 minutes a day.  We try to find 5 minutes a day for each kid.  We try not to go crazy because the house is a wreck.  We try to focus on the fact that we're doing well in our jobs and that our kids are happy and healthy.  I, especially, try to focus on that.  I'm still struggling.  I expect I will continue to struggle until this routine feels normal, whatever that means.  In the mean time, I'm not worried about balance.  I'm taking things one day at a time.

My First Day

My first day of class was this week.  I am happy to say it went well.  I made a few mistakes--you know, unnoticed typos on syllabi--but overall, it went well.  I even managed to get my students talking, which was exciting.  I enjoy teaching, and I'm happy in the classroom.  It felt good to get back to doing something I love.  I didn't, however, get home until 7 pm (I teach a late afternoon class), which is the boys' bedtime.  I got about 15 minutes with my children in a 20 hour period, which was hard.  They didn't seem to mind, but I did.  Given my teaching schedule there isn't much I can do about that.  I have, however, already requested a different schedule for next year.  I can--and will--be a team player and will happily teach the occasional late-afternoon or evening class, but I won't do it when my kids are this little.  I just won't.  People can judge me all they want to, as I'm sure they will, but I won't do it.

Personal, Professional

I am officially back at work, as I've written about extensively.  I am also officially back in the classroom.  This has had profound affects on me personally and professionally.

Professionally, I'm happy.  I have taught this week (for the first time in 16 months), and I enjoyed it.  I love teaching, and I know I'm good at it.  I like getting students interested, and I am able to get them to respond to things they may not otherwise respond to.  I am happy with the content of my classes, and I can already tell that most of my students are genuinely interested in the material and will be open to discussion.  I am also getting research and writing done, which makes me really happy.  It's slow, as writing often is, but it's happening.

Personally, I'm struggling a bit.  George  started child care full time last week; he now goes every weekday.  He enjoys it, and he is doing well in his class.  I found it really hard not to have a great deal of one on one time with him, though.  I had to sneak in quiet minutes with each of the boys, actually, and that was hard to do.  I managed, but given the nature of our weekly schedule, I don't get big chunks of time with each of them as I did while I was on leave.  I am finding the transition of the full-time work groove to be more difficult than I anticipated.  I've cried every day this week about how the days have gone from fairly relaxed with lots of time to get necessary tasks accomplished to schedule driven.  It's more difficult than I anticipated.  I am, however, following the advice of a dear friend and giving it time.  I'm trying to keep my expectations realistic and to not judge myself for being upset.  I'm not so good at either of those things.

Chaos

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

First Day, Part 2

This morning Archer and I took Bear to his first day of Junior Kindergarten.  He was nervous, so nervous that he refused to look at the camera when we tried to take a picture of him in his first day outfit.  He didn't, however, cry.  He was quiet and a bit withdrawn, but he did what we asked him.  He put his backpack where his teacher told him, and he stood in line quietly.  He did give us each about 5 hugs and kisses, but there was no drama.  I won't go so far as to say he was happy, but he was prepared.  He knew what was coming, and he did what we needed him to do without complaint.  I managed to not cry in front of him (thank goodness for sunglasses!). 

Students

I rarely complain about students en masse.  I generally like students, and I like my job a lot.  I do complain about specific students (who doesn't?), on occasion, and I most certainly complain about grading.  I feel it necessary to include this preface to what is about to follow.

Students have returned to CU this week, even though classes don't start till next week.  The freshman are going through orientation and lots of other students are here to get prepared for class.  That's fine.  They do belong here, after all.  I can deal with their noise, and I can deal with the traffic and congestion on campus that they cause.  I cannot, however, deal with their mess. 

I was on campus a lot this summer, and my oldest sons were in 4 weeks of camps run on the university.  I was in the main student building on campus every single day I was on campus.  I used the bathroom that approximately 1,000 4-12 year olds used twice a day.  The bathroom was also reasonably clean.  The toilets were always flushed.  The toilet paper was always thrown away, as were the paper towels.  The sinks were reasonably clean.  I just used the exact same bathroom after students have been in the same building for less than half a day.  It was disgusting.  Seriously.  Paper towels and toilet paper everyone.  Toilets unflushed, and one sink clogged.  I will stop complaining now.

First Day of School, Part 1

Today is Wild Man's first day of Grade 2 (as we say in CU Land).  He happily rode the bus, and he informed Archer and me that we didn't need to meet him at school as we did last year.  He said, "I know what to do now, Mom.  Don't worry."  But I do worry.  Even as I worry, I must acknowledge that he is growing into a thoughtful, sensitive child.  He has his moments, to be sure, but most of the time, he shows us that he is maturing and growing up.  I'm really proud of the person he's becoming.  While I will always love him, I genuinely like him as a person.

Tomorrow Bear starts Junior Kindergarten.  This morning, he is hanging out in my office, coloring, while I try to get some work done.  We're going to lunch later, and then we may do something special just the two of us.  I imagine that I'll be writing a much different post tomorrow, one in which I describe how Bear refused to go to his teacher and how I sobbed when I had to leave him.  For now, I'll enjoy listening to his chatter while I finish my syllabi.