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.

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.

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. 

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.

Changes

In two weeks, Wild Man and Bear start school, Wild Man as a second grader and Bear as a Junior Kindergartener.  That week George starts childcare full time, and my time as a stay-at-home mom officially ends (although it technically ended in May when my mat leave ended, George has only been in childcare part time, making me feel like I am still a stay-at-home mom in some ways).  I'm feeling really conflicted about these impending changes. 

On one level, I'm thoroughly enjoying watching my children flourish.  Bear, in particular, has grown a lot this summer.  In spite of some initial bumps, he has thrived in day camp.  He has become much more independent, and Archer and I are both confident he will excel at kindergarten.  Wild Man has proven to us that he is becoming a mature, responsible child.  He has taken to the role of older sibling without hesitation, and he is increasingly asking for more responsibility.  He loves looking out for his brothers (as much as he loves tormenting them, as is an older sibling's right, I suppose), and they have come to depend on him a great deal.  George is settling into child care, and while he may be the most serious and observant of our children, he is slowly claiming a place for himself amongst the babies in his group.  I'm proud of how they have adapted and their willingness to try to things.  I think this speaks to mine and Archer's ability to instill confidence in them.

On another level, I'm sad that I won't be working from home most days, that I will be back to "balancing" work and home life.  I'm sad that I can't just hang out at the park all day if I want to.  I realize this will change.  I know myself well enough to know that by next week I will be excited for the start of the school year, that I will be energized about my courses and new projects.  But today, and likely for the next few days, I just want to hunker down with my boys and squeeze the last few moments out of the summer.

Academic Mothering

I consider myself an academic mother; for me, the name, such as it is, merges my professional and personal life.  I am an academic, and I am a mother.  It is impossible to every stop being one or the other.  I am both simultaneously.  I am always thinking about my children and the things I need to do for them, and I'm always thinking about my research and writing.  There is no separation.

Many of my friends, especially my close friends, are also academic mothers, although I don't know how many of them would self-identify in that way.  Among these friends, I've observed something that I find disconcerting.  A few of these friends, two in particular, speak about mothering and their children with something close to disdain.  Now, these two women love their children; I don't mean to suggest otherwise.  They light up when their children walk into the room, and they tell delightful stories about their children.  But when in certain groups, primarily groups in which other academics are present, they act as though they hate parenting, as though their children keep them from their "real" work, and as though their "careers" are more fulfilling than parenting.  This makes me really uncomfortable for several reasons.

First, as I've blogged before (a long, long time ago), CU is fairly friendly to faculty members with families.  In fact, CU has an astounding number of faculty members with young children.  Part of this, I think, is due to Canadian culture, which allows for year-long parental leaves, and part of this is due to the unionized environment of CU (for example, despite being the equivalent of an American R1, the tenure requirements are fairly manageable and clearly spelled out; also taking parental leave of a certain length delays tenure by a full-year).  People here have kids.  People with kids bring their kids to class on occasion and many bring their kids to events and meetings.  Archer and I often have the boys on campus, especially now as we're in the odd time when my leave has ended but we don't have full time child care for Bear and we don't have any child care for George.  To return to my original point, no one here has ever made me feel less than anyone else because I have children.  Sure, I have colleagues who never ask about my children, but that's okay because I never ask about their dogs, for example.  I don't feel as though people question my abilities as an academic because I'm a mother, or at least I don't feel as though most of my colleagues do.

My friends' tendency to disparage parenting and their own children makes me uncomfortable because it's a performance, a carefully constructed one at that.  It is as though these two women, both of whom have tenure and have proven themselves as teachers and researchers, as it were, believe they have to project a certain image of themselves in order to maintain their academic credibility.  I think this just perpetuates the unequal way many academic parents are treated.  Everyone knows I have children, and everyone knows I'm happy to talk about my children.  But everyone also knows I am a successful teacher and a good researcher.  I am able to be both without disparaging one or the other.

This is not to say that I'm always secure in my role, and I do think my friends' tendency to speak badly of parenting is due to their own insecurities.  But I am secure in my role as a mom.  I know I'm a good mom.  I have three happy, healthy, confident children to support that belief.  I'm less secure in my role as an academic, although I am becoming more confident.  But I also believe that the two roles, the two halves of myself, as it were, can't be separated, and I don't want them to be.  I think my friends are more insecure about their ability to mother effectively while maintaining the active research and service loads that they do.  I know things are going to fall through the cracks, and mostly I'm okay with that.  I don't have to be a perfect mother, and I certainly don't have to be a perfect academic.  I'd rather be happy, get some work done, and hang out with my kids.

Conflicted. . .

that is the word that best describes how I am feeling today.  In fact, it best describes how I've felt for a week or so now.  I know why, more or less.  My mat leave officially ends next week.  I say officially because I timed my leave with the start and end of classes; thus, I don't go back into the classroom until September as the Winter semester at CU ends April 11th.  My responsibilities to my departments will be relatively light: end of the year meetings, faculty development retreats, and evaluating transcripts.  I have to finish adapting one of my courses to teach as an on-line course, but I have much of that done already.  I have two essays I need to finish revising and submit, and my goal is to have both under review by August 15th.  But given all this, I don't expect much will change, at least not till exams are over.  So I have another six weeks or so in which I will primarily be a stay-at-home mom.  George is slated to go into daycare part-time sometime at the end of April or beginning of May, depending on when a spot is available. 

I know this is a great situation.  I know I've been really lucky this year.  I like my job, and I know I'll be happy once I go back to work.  But I'm still conflicted.  I didn't expect to like staying home as much as I do.  I haven't longed for "adult" conversations, the way so many people told me I would.  I've enjoyed making muffins with Bear and just hanging out with George.  I've liked meeting Wild Man at the bus stop almost every day and listening to him describe his day.  I've found a groove of sorts, and now I have to find a new groove, one that will be infinitely more complicated and focused on schedules--at least by September.

And on the other hand, it will be good to have more than 45 minutes at a time to work, to know my work time is my work time, and that my time with my  kids doesn't have to be so split.  I think I'd feel less conflicted if the last few weeks I hadn't been so focused on getting an essay done.  I've been writing in snatches, but most every free minute is devoted to trying to get this thing finished.  As I wrote before, it is slow going, which is frustrating.  I know I am ready to have time to focus on work.  But dropping George off at daycare the first day will be infinitely harder than it was to take Wild Man or Bear, and neither of those days were what I'd describe as easy.   

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.

Too much?

I had a lengthy conversation with a good friend a few nights ago.  K told me she was impressed with how much I've gotten done "academically" since George was born.  She said she was a "drooling idiot" for the first 6 to 8 months following her daughter's birth.  For the record, I want to say that most of the things I've gotten done are fairly easy tasks--some editing, a bit of writing on a collaborative project, some service oriented tasks before my leave officially started.  Mostly I've been mothering.  And most days I'm not sure I do that all too well.  Wild Man and Bear are eating too many applesauce, carrot sticks, and chicken nugget dinners for my taste; I'm drinking way to much coffee (and thanking my lucky stars that the caffeine doesn't seem to affect George); I'm perpetually running late; and some weeks I'm lucky if one of us makes it to the grocery store before 6:00 pm on Sunday evening.  Archer is picking up a lot of slack, but in the midst of all of this, he has renovated our downstairs bathroom (stupid, yes, but necessary as the tile floor was literally breaking apart) and started renovating our basement (also stupid, but also necessary for reasons I'll go into in another post).  In my mind this seems fairly normal, for us at least. We always have too much going on.  K's comment, however, got me thinking about the differences in the American and Canadian system of maternity/paternity/parental leave and how my own experiences have influenced my thinking about "leave."

I never officially got maternity leave when Wild Man was born.  I was a graduate student, so I worked around my teaching schedule (luckily I was team-teaching a course with my dissertation adviser, and she told me to "go away" for a few weeks following Wild Man's  birth).  I was able to keep Wild Man out of childcare until he was about 4 months old, and then I found a daycare that would take him part-time (a relatively unusual thing for Southwest College Town).  Even when he was with me, though, I was typically multi-tasking--reading and writing while I was nursing him or when he was in his activity center.  I managed because I didn't know any better.  I knew what I had to do, and I did it.

With Bear, I didn't qualify for maternity leave benefits as I hadn't accrued enough working hours in Canada.  He was born in the end of June, and I had from then until school started.  I didn't do any work in that time period, but by September, I was teaching 3 classes and on the job market.  It was awful, in many ways much, much worse than what I had experienced with Wild Man.  I was not Bear's primary care giver, and that was frustrating for me.  Luckily, Archer was able to take leave, and he was home with Bear for that semester.  That said, Archer was still submitting grant applications and working on an article.  Our schedule was insane as we struggled to find time to work, but again, we made it work because we had to. 

Now, I'm on leave.  I have been employed with CU long enough that I qualify for both provincial and university benefits (this means that I am receiving 90% of my pay).  Also, I will not teach again until September 2013, even though my leave officially ends the beginning of April.  I am not expected to complete any service or research until then.  But I am doing some research.  By some standards, I'm doing a lot.  I've learned this is atypical, especially for female faculty members.  While none of the faculty members I know who have taken a parental leave have stopped researching altogether, most have slowed down dramatically--as have I.  They do, however, seem to stop participating in all collaborative projects, which I definitely have not stopped doing.  In fact, the biggest project I'm working on now is a collaborative project, and I'm continuing to participate in my writing group, although I'm doing a lot more reading and commenting than new writing.  And I'm doing most of this while caring for George.  Some days I do nothing; some days I'm lucky I make it out of my pajamas.  Other days I focus on stuff around the house.  But at least one day a week I am able to carve out a chunk of time to do something academic.  It makes me feel focused; it makes me feel centered. 

But my Canadian friends think I'm doing too much, while my American friends seem to get why I'm still working a bit.  And on some level I agree that I am doing too much, but I'm not sure how to stop.  I think the American system--a system in which parents must think about returning to work almost immediately after having a baby--has hardwired my brain to think about work.  My sister was back in the office (in a part-time capacity) a month after giving birth to her son; she did this partly out of economic necessity, but also because it was expected of her.  Most of my friends either tried to plan the birth of their children around the semester, or they just managed to finish their teaching responsibilities with a newborn in tow.  Given this past experience, being on leave doesn't mean I stop working altogether--at least not for me.  It means I don't have to teach or do service.  I still have to do some research, while managing everything else in my life.  I don't know if I know how to do it any other way.

I did it!

I hired a cleaner, and she came Tuesday afternoon.  I have to say it was more than a bit odd to be in my house while someone else cleaned it.  Archer had to be on campus, so I didn't have the car.  I wasn't up for dragging George and his stroller on the bus, so we were home.  That said, she was a lovely woman, and she cleaned my entire house.  I still feel a bit guilty, but I am loving having a clean house--like she scrubbed the door to my shower.  I honestly haven't done that in over 6 months.  The water beaded up on the door when I took a shower this morning.  It was lovely.  Once Bear and George are in daycare at the same time, I'm not sure we'll still be able to afford it, but for now, I am going to enjoy it.