New Plan for the Day

In an attempt to salvage the day (and my sanity), I have decided to take the day off. I am going to go pick S up early and meet C for lunch. After S's afternoon nap, I think we'll go to the pool so he can practice the skills he acquired at Water Babies last week.

A family update for those who are interested: C's mother did not have a heart attack, but she will have a heart catheratization tomorrow to clear up a minor blockage.

And a special thanks to Supadiscomama who took time out of her day to help make mine a little better.

It never ends. . .

C's mother is in the hospital, and we're not sure why. She may have had a minor heart attack, but we won't know until later today. She does have pulmonary fibrosis, which is a lung disease, and she is getting over a very bad chest cold. Her lungs and heart may be responding to the cold. We're both upset. C's mom isn't in great health, but most of her health problems could be improved if she lost weight, exercised, and ate better. Needless to say, she doesn't do these things.

And despite my worry over my mother-in-law, I am left feeling like it never ends. C mailed his dissertation to his committee on Tuesday; we were looking forward to a few quiet weeks before he had to start gearing up for his defense. We were excited because he wasn't going to be in front of the computer almost all day every day, and then we got the phone call telling us about this. Since we're so far away, we spent most of yesterday on the phone with C's brother, and now we have to determine if we need to make another emergency trip to see them. Is it wrong of me to feel like we can't catch our breath?

And this morning I called my sister to have someone to talk to about my frustration, worry, and emotional exhaustion. I didn't get the comfort I was hoping for; instead, I got a lecture on how C's mom didn't get sick to inconvenience me. So on top of the guilt I already feel for my frustration with this particular family situation, I got chastised like I am a child by my older sister, who then yelled at me when I tried to explain that I only wanted her to listen. Now I am in my office crying, and my relatively good mood is shot.

I'm still feeling sorry for myself.

Firefighters

My father is a firefighter in South Carolina, so this story has been on my mind a lot. Thankfully, my father was not involved, and no one he knows was hurt. I don't often use the word tragic, but I think events like this one are tragic.

Ungrateful

In the past few months, I've been called "ungrateful" at least twice by my mother-in-law. In all fairness, she hasn't used that precise word, but that is the sentiment she expressed. My feelings are hurt. I'm not ungrateful; I appreciate the things she does for me. I even send her thank you notes for every gift she sends S. I try to call her at least once a week (even though C talks with her at least three times a week). And despite the complaints I've made about my in-laws here and elsewhere, I do care for my mother-in-law. But I'm tired. I'm tired of being judged, of being told I don't appreciate family the way she does, of being treated like a bad parent when S get sick, and, most of all, of being blamed for the fact that we live 1,200 miles away. I want from my mother-in-law what I want, but rarely get, from my own mother: love and acceptance.

It sucks that we live so far away. There I said it, and I mean it. It sucks that my father has only met my son once because his work schedule hasn't allowed him to take time off to travel. It sucks that C's dad never met our son. It sucks that we only get to see our families two or three times a year. It sucks that I haven't seen my niece and nephew for over two years. It sucks that my brother, sister, and I haven't been in the same city together in as many years. But that is the reality of our lives. I wish that C's mom could just accept this and make the most of the times we are together. I'm tired of her assuming that I'm perfectly happy to only make occasional visits to my hometown (a city I truly, truly love).

Perhaps this makes me ungrateful, but I fantasize about making a secret visit to my hometown so that C and I can visit our friends who still live there and can eat at our favorite restaurant without having to plan around the myriad of family events we have to attend when we're there. I want to show S the beach, the harbor, the beautiful parks. I want to not feel guilty for having a life of my own.

I'm tired of being treated like my life is a personal affront to my mother-in-law. And if you haven't already noticed, I'm feeling a little sorry for myself today.

Another Disappointment for C

The unexpected job I wrote about has been cancelled (but it will be relisted in the fall), and C is understandably disappointed. I feel like my wonderful husband can't catch a break lately. As ambivalent as I was about this potential move, I really wanted him to get the job because, frankly, he has had an unbelievably tough year. On top of all of his dad's death, the job and dissertation stress, he also feels guilty about how little work I've been able to get done this year because I've taken over almost all of the household responsibilities and S's care so he can get this dissertation finished. I don't want him to feel guilty. I want him to understand that this is what a spouse does. I know he will return the favor when I am in the final stage of my dissertation. He told me the other night that he feels like he has to pay me back, and I told him that is ridiculous. I do wish he has had more time to spend with us recently, but I don't feel like he has missed out on any important events. I know this is a means to an end, and frankly, I get a lot more support from my stressed out husband than a lot of wives. It kills me that he doesn't realize what a great husband and father he is. I'm left feeling partially responsible as I was so ambivalent about the job.

On a more positive note, C has scheduled his dissertation defense. As of July 18, he will officially be Dr. C, and we are so excited about that.

Another Potential Move

I haven't completely wrapped my head around this yet, so I think this will be a short post. C didn't get the job he interviewed for in April, so we had reconciled ourselves (fairly happily, actually) to the reality that he would adjunct another year and go back on the market next fall. We both think he'll be much more successful with his degree in hand. A few weeks ago, three jobs came open in his area, and he put in for two of them, assuming he wouldn't hear anything. Friday morning he got a call from one of the universities, and he has an on-campus interview at the end of the month. I'm excited and anxious. I've come to the realization that I kind of like where we live--not necessarily the area (although we could and have lived in worse places), but the community of friends we have. The first job seemed managable b/c it was about an 8 hour drive from our friends. The new job is scarier to me b/c we will be across the country from our friends. Admittedly, we will be closer to our families, which is a plus. But I have lived away from my family for 9 years. My friends, particularly this group of friends, have become my family.

Competitive Mothering

Before I became a mother, I never gave this idea much thought. If someone had said this to me before I was pregnant, I don't think I would have given it much thought, except to think "how can one mother competitively?" My friend Mommy, Ph.D. and I discussed the idea while I was pregnant with S. She said that once she became a mother she began asking other mothers what seemed to be harmless questions: how long does your baby nurse? How much does s/he weigh? Has s/he rolled over/sat up/crawled/smiled/laughed yet? How long does s/he sleep at night? She began asking these sorts of questions to get information, but then she began comparing her and her baby to the other mothers and babies. She said (and I'm paraphrasing her as the conversation was well over a year ago) that she began to observe that mothering was a competition. Mothers want to know how their children are progressing compared to other babies, which seems harmless enough to me. But, as Sarah pointed out, and as I have begun to observe on my own, mothers become disappointed when they realize their children aren't doing something at the same time as other babies, and they become proud when they realize their children have accomplished something before other babies. Mothering becomes a competition.

I have kept Sarah's observations in the back of my mind since then, and I think she is absolutely right. Mothers are competitive about their children, and I am no exception. I attend functions and go out to lunch with my friends who have children on a fairly regular basis, and we all ask about each other's children. I do believe our primary purpose is to find out how each other is doing and what is going on in our lives. But I have to say that when I hear that a friend's 5-month-old is sleeping through the night, I wonder "what is wrong with my child? What is wrong with my as a parent?" I then happily report that although S is not sleeping through the night he is eating, crawling, standing up, and any other new thing he has accomplished. I know how silly I sound, but I really want these other mothers to know that while I can't get my child to sleep through the night I can get him to do all these other things ahead of schedule. I then go home and wonder why I feel the need to compete. I know my son is unique and he will progress at his own rate. I know from personal experience that it does no good to compare children. My sister and I were compared to one another at every point in our childhoods. Those comparisons achieved nothing but making us hate one another until we were adults. We now have a close relationship, but there are still vestiges of competition in our relationship.

So here is yet another unanswerable question: why do mothers feel the need to compete with other mothers? The only answer I can come up with is a big one: insecurity. As my friend Sarah also predicted, I have never felt more defensive or more insecure about anything I've ever done in my life. Admittedly, I've never dealt with criticism well—a hang up from being a perfectionist—but I do not like to have my parenting skills criticized at all. I'll happily take any advice that I've asked for, but I don't like to have my decisions and my choices questioned. I know exactly why too: I'm relatively sure I’m a good mother, but I also question just about every decision I make as a mother—even the ones made instinctually. I think mothers compete because we want some sense of reassurance that we're doing something right. And what better way to do that than to know that our child has done something before another child?

Is it healthy? I certainly don't think so. I fully realize the pitfalls of comparing S to other children, as I have left several gatherings and cried because my child still isn't sleeping through the night. I blame myself for S's struggles, and he is struggling to sleep through the night. Our whole family is struggling to sleep through the night. I know that he will eventually master this skill, but I also know that there will always be something that another child does better than he does, just as there will always be something that he does better than other children. These realizations don't necessarily make me feel any better because I know I will continue to compare my child to other children and my mothering skills to other mothers. I only hope awareness counts for something.

New Look

I've decided I needed a change! Here is my new look, so to speak!

Competitve Parenting

I've been thinking about the idea of competitive parenting a lot, and I've actually been formulating a post in my head for a while, which I rarely do. I tend to blog in the moment, so to speak. I'm not quite ready to post yet, but I want to get the idea out there so I'm committed to writing about it.

Moving, Ethically

So it seems my previous post on "Moving and Ethics" was for naught. We have decided to go with the duplex, as it is the nicer of the two places. Now I feel like I can let myself get excited. As much as I hate moving (haven't I said that before?), I know this is the right choice. Our lovely condo is increasingly dangerous for S, who is now into everything! We don't have enough storage space, which means there is stuff he can get into everywhere. We've baby-proofed as best as we can, but we're still spending a lot of time saying, "No! Put that down!" In the new place, he will have his own room, and we will have our own office. We will be able to shut the door on the office and keep him out of wires, papers, cords, etc. Plus, he will have a backyard too!

Traveling with Family

Processing family time is often difficult for me. Actually, family time is often difficult for me. We live approximately 1200 miles away from our families, so we see them about twice a year or so. We've seen them more since S was born and C's dad died though, which has been both nice and frustrating. After almost 7 years of marriage and over 10 years as a couple, C and I still have trouble dealing with each other's families. I keep expecting it to get easier, but just when I think it has, I am once again reminded how different not only I am from his family but how different our family is from both our natal families.

C's mother and sister flew to the Northeast and joined us on our travels. Part of the trip had originally been planned for them to attend C's graduation, but as his graduation was postponed, the trip became solely about visiting old friends and me doing research. His mom and sister decided to join us as they "didn't know when they'd see any of us again" or be able to travel to that part of the country again. All in all the trip was fine, if occasionally tense. My mother-in-law made several pointed comments about us moving east of the Mississippi, and my sister-in-law, who has no children, repeatedly offered parenting advice. I am not great at ignoring such pointed comments, so rather than ignoring them, I find it necessary to explain the obvious over and over again. Here is a typical conversation between my mil and me regarding her desires for us to move closer.

MIL: I wish you all would just move closer, preferably east of the Mississippi.

Me: C applied for numerous jobs that were on the East Coast, including several in our home state. Unfortunately, he only interviewed at schools in the Midwest and Southwest. That is just the nature of academia; we really don't have much control over where we will end up.

MIL: I just don't understand why he can't get a job at Hometown College.

Me: Well, if there are ever any openings in either of our fields at Hometown College, we will definitely apply. But there is no guarantee that we would get those positions.

MIL: I'm sure the fact that you all are from Hometown and went to Hometown College would be of some benefit.

Me: Not really . . .

And we have this conversation over and over again. Sometimes I get irritated and snippy and ask if she knows something about the process I don't. Then she says something like "I know people at Hometown College (which she doesn't). I could speak to them about you all." Or she reminds C of all her friends who have all their children living spitting distance from their front doors.

To be fair, my mom isn't much better. She just passively says "I wish you all lived closer," completely forgetting that she and my dad moved to California to get away from their families when they were first married. My dad's career brought them back to the East Coast, not a real desire to be close to family.

Traveling together makes these conversations more annoying because we can't escape one another. Add to this my need to have people understand things and my inability not to respond to comments like the ones described above. I like things to be very clear and straightforward. No matter how many times we explain the reality of academic jobs to our families they never seem to get that we may live in the Pacific Northwest or Hometown. Somehow that all means that I don't want to live in the same town as our families--at least it means that for C's mom--and that I am not as committed to family as I should be.

Moving and Ethics

Let me state the obvious: I hate moving. That said, we need to move. Our 2 bedroom, 1 1/2 bath, 2 story condo is too small for us, especially now that S is mobile. S and I currently share space--the largest bedroom is half-nursery, half-office; however, as C acutely observed the other day, I am rarely able to get work done at home. I am occasionaly able to grade, answer student emails, and request articles from the library. I do read a fair amount while S nurses and naps, but I haven't been able to get any writing done at home for months. (*Aside: C made this observation as though he had a huge epiphany, completely forgetting that I've been telling him this for months. . .) C's office is in the dining room, which has worked really well until S got mobile. Now S is trying to climb into C's filing cabinets and rearranging his papers for him.

Moving in our smallish college town isn't easy. We tried to move last year--we even put a bid on a house, which wasn't accepted--but had no luck. This year we've decided to rent again since C will be back on the job market next year; it seems silly to buy a house if we'll may have to sell it in less than a year. So for about 3 months we've been looking for a 3 bedroom, 2 bath apartment/duplex/house to rent. The problem: we really like our current condo. We have a fenced in courtyard with a small shed. I can have all my plants, and C can have a grill. Our cats can get outside with little risk of escaping. In essence we have a yard without really having a yard. Plus our rent is incredibly reasonable, and we love our neighbors. Bigger places in our town are either geared toward undergraduates (3 bedroom, 3 bath homes with a rent that is perfectly reasonable when you divide it by 3, but not affordable for a graduate student and an adjunct instructor) or over-priced to keep undergraduates out of the neighborhood. The affordable places are in not-so-great=neighborhoods or in nice neighborhoods that would add to much time to C's current commute. And we're picky, plain and simple. We need to move, but we don't have to move. We really like our current place, as I said, so that doesn't really induce us to move.

Yesterday we found a duplex we both liked that was in our price range and fit most of our other needs. It has a large, fenced yard with lots of trees (the trees are a plus), a patio, a bigger kitchen, big closets (our current place lacks sufficient closet space), 3 bedrooms, 2 baths, with a convenient location. We put down a deposit, but we didn't sign any paperwork as the leasing agent was booked for the rest of the day. Practically as soon as we got home, some good friends called us to let us know a house in their neighborhood just went up for rent. It is slightly more expensive, but it is a house. C really likes this neighborhood. It would take a lot of time off of his commute, and we'd be right across the street to really close friends. Is it unethical to go see this place, providing we can see it today? And if we like it better than the other place is it unethical to withdraw our deposit and try to rent it? We haven't signed anything, so I won't feel too badly if we decide on the house versus the duplex. Plus, I know the leasing company will be able to lease the duplex without a problem. We're only the third family who has looked at it. I've decided to let C handle this one, which oddly seems fair to me since I've done all the work for the other place. I just wish the house had come available a few days sooner. . .

Travels, Research, and More Sickness

Just a quick post to let everyone know I'm still alive.

We've returned from our marathon trip to the Northeast, where we visited old friends and met C's mom and sister. I'll write more about the family aspect of the trip later as I still have to process that part myself. Seeing our old friends was good, if a bit surreal. We left Northeast College Town over 4 years ago to move to Southern College Town so I work on my doctorate while C finished his from distance. Most of his friends in NCT were affiliated with his program, and most of mine were through the museum where I worked. I made some great friends, probably the only friends I've ever had whom I didn't meet through school. As nice as that was, it made life complicated when we moved. Visiting 4 years post-move was odd. We now all have babies, and I have little to talk about with them except babies. I love these ladies, 2 in particular, but we just don't have a lot in common. They politely asked me about my work, but it is very far outside their realm of experience as are their lives to me.

When we left NCT, we traveled to The Berkshires--BEAUTIFUL! We spent several days in Lenox, MA, and I got in three lengthy visits to The Mount, including a 2 hour chat with the librarian. They had nothing in the way of archival materials, but seeing the space was so helpful for my topic. I was also able to see copies of the architectural plans, which included some changes that Edith Wharton ordered. I now have to finish reading several books, go through all my notes, get familiar with the Beinecke's website, and figure out if I need to make another research trip to Indiana. I arrived home feeling energized and ready to do some real work.

But S arrived home with an awful ear infection, which made him miserable, which made C and me miserable. Luckily he is feeling much, much better. He can go back to school on Tuesday, which means I can get back into the groove of work.

(Rethinking) Gender . . .

. . . is the title of a compelling article in this week's Newsweek. Gender is something I think about a lot, both professionally and privately. Professionally, my dissertation focuses on the way American women writers of the 19th century approached space, both literally and metaphorically. Implicit in my argument is the idea that men and women approach space differently. I argue (or I will argue) that the differences are largely due to cultural and, thus, learned differences. I firmly believe that most aspects of gender are learned, although I am beginning to think that some are biological.

Privately, I think about gender mainly as it pertains to my son. Although many of my family members disagree with me, I don't believe S's gender is fixed. Sure, he is a boy, and he has a penis. But aside from that, S has no idea what that means. What he learns about gender he will learn from C and me. We've spent a lot of time talking about gender construction and what we want to teach him about gender. After reading this article, I started considering some of our more unconscious decisions. Does he have a lot of "boy" toys, for example? He has a few, and some, like his hammer that lights up, are his favorite. But as I thought about this, I also realized that rather unconsciously, C and I have only bought S toys that are gender-neutral. He has blocks, an activity center, lots of books, a few stuffed animals, and that is about it. He does have a few trucks and some "tools," but all of those things were purchased by relatives and friends. We both play fairly rough with S--he loves to jump and to be tickled. He throws himself at C and tries to wrestle. But I do think we would have treated a girl the same way as we both played this way with our niece. I will admit that we dress S in "boy" clothes. He has lots of blue, and there are not dresses in his closet (although I've thought more than once that dresses must make for easier diaper changes).

I want to raise my child in an environment that is welcoming of all genders--and, as Anne Fausto-Sterling among others suggests, I do think there are more than two genders. I want S to choose his own way and to understand that he doesn't have to do things the way his parents have. I want him to have the freedom to explore his body and his sexuality and his gender. But in all honesty, I am not entirely sure how to accomplish that. And as much as I want him to make his own way, I'm also wary of the real world. What is acceptable in our home won't necessarily be acceptable in the real world. And as progressive and liberal as I like to think myself, I have no idea how I'll react if my little boy announces one day that he wants to be a girl.

Happy Belated Mother's Day

Since most of the people who read my blog are mothers, I wanted to extend a Happy, albeit belated, Mother's Day to all the mothers in the blogosphere.

My first Mother's Day was mellow and low-key, which is exactly what I needed and had requested. C took care of everything all day, which was so fabulous. I plan to return the favor next month on his first Father's Day. That said, I feel blessed to have a husband who thinks Mother's Day is silly (although he happily celebrated it with me) and does wonderful things for me on a regular basis.

Doctor Frustration

S has had a relapse, and I find myself somewhat frustrated with his doctor, whom I actually like a lot. Yesterday afternoon, he started running a fever again, and then he developed a rash. After a phone call to the nurse on-call (who was actually helpful for a change!) and one to my sister-in-law, who has 2 boys of her own, I determined that S likely had a sinus infection and could even have strep throat. I resigned myself to the fact that I couldn't do anything about it until this morning as the doctor's office was already closed.

Skip ahead to 1:00 am. My baby boy wakes up screaming and is on fire. He had a temp of 104.2. I realize that isn't so high for a baby, but fevers scare me. My older brother had viral meningitis at 5 months old. He had a fever of 105 for over 24 hours before doctors were able to bring it down, and as a result, he is profoundly deaf. He leads a happy, productive life, but his "disability" (I hate that word, but I digress) is a result of a fever. Needless to say, I wanted to take S straight to the emergency room. Luckily C's cooler head prevailed. He convinced me to give S a dose of Motrin and wait 20 minutes; if the fever hadn't come down, he promised we would take him. The fever came down in 20 minutes, and S finally went back to sleep. We got him to the doctor first thing this morning, and he has a sinus infection. It seems his nasty cold (which he has had for almost 3 weeks) turned into a sinus infection.

I am frustrated with his doctor and my health insurance for several reasons. First, I don't feel like she listened to my concerns at his original appointment for the cold 3 weeks ago. That said, I know I am likely responding to my irritation and frustration at his being sick for so long. Lack of sleep probably doesn't help anyway. I'm irritated with my health insurance because I can only go to one clinic in town; none of the doctors in the practice (and they are all good doctors; I have few complaints about them) are on call after hours. If I have a question I have to call a nurse on-call. In the past, said nurse (it isn't always the same nurse) has been less than helpful and not at all reassuring. There are times I long for a practice that relies on an answering service. I want to leave a message and have a doctor call me back, especially if I think it is an emergency. My vet uses this method, but not my pediatrician. As I said, I was able to talk to a helpful nurse last night (only because I located a different phone number for the nurse on-call), and C was even able to get this nurse back on the phone when we had another question about an hour later. I could launch into a tirade about the poor health insurance graduate students have to put up with, but that isn't the case. I like my insurance, and I like our doctors. I hate the nurse on-call system. I'm hanging onto the "good" number and calling that one from now on. I'm so glad I've gotten into the habit of asking people their name because I plan to ask for the helpful nurse the next time I have to use the nurse on-call system.

Now S is happily playing, and I feel better knowing he feels better.

Final Drafts, Illness, and Travels

C mailed what we both hope will be the final draft of his dissertation off to his advisor on Friday. He will most likely be unable to make the deadline for a May graduation, so we're settling for an August graduation. The act of mailing it has relaxed C considerably; we even allowed ourselves some real fun on Saturday. We're in the market for a glider, so we drove to a nearby city and went shopping. Of course, all day shopping excursions are no longer as much fun as they once were now that we have S, but he was a trooper.

We had our first experience with an extended illness last week. S ran a fever from Monday until early Thursday morning, and he threw up a few times as well. I took him to the pediatrician to make sure everything was ok, and it seems to have only been a virus. After two sleepless nights, I'm glad my little guy started feeling better by Thursday. He is back to his old self already, and it is a wonderful thing to have a happy baby again.

The end of the semester is approaching, and we're making plans for another trip. We've traveled more in the past year than in the past four. This time the trip is for me and about me, with a short side trip to meet Cody's dissertation advisor. We're going to Lenox, MA so I can do research at Edith Wharton's home, The Mount. I've spoken to the curator there, and while they don't have a lot in the way of archival documents, I will be able to photograph the house extensively and look at some architectural plans, which is important for my dissertation. I can't express how excited I am to finally have the opportunity to get to do some of my own work. C is assuming all responsibility for S, so I will be able to get some real work done. On top of that, C will be assuming the primary responsibility for S over the summer so I can continue to get work done! In his words, he is returning the favor for all the time I've sacrificed on my own work in the past year so he could finish his dissertation. I'm hoping to get a draft of my Wharton chapter done by August, so I can move on to a different chapter this fall.

The Return of Wetnurses

"Would you pay someone to nurse your baby?" was the title of a segment on the Today Show this morning. As open minded as I am about breastfeeding, I'm not sure my open mind extends to the return of wet nurses. As a breastfeeding mother, I am completely supportive of all mothers and fathers who want their children to experience the benefits of breastfeeding, even when they aren't able to provide their children with breast milk themselves. As I have more than enough milk for S, I even contemplated donating to a local mother's milk bank, the one mentioned in this article in fact; I could not, however, imagine nursing another woman's baby, and I certainly would not want another woman to nurse my child. That said, I'm not sure how I feel about this. I want to be able to say that if a woman wants to nurse other children, why shouldn't she do it and get paid well for it? Unfortunately, I know too much about the history of wet nurses in this country to be comfortable with seeing a return of this practice. I think there is a slippery slope between women like the one described in the article who do this willingly to a mother who is struggling to make ends meet and decides to become a wet nurse out of desperation. I think women can be taken advantage of too easily, and what happens to the wet nurse's child?

Baby Showers

Warning: this is a random thought.

I'm tired of baby showers! In the past 9 months, I've attended and help plan at least 8 baby showers (two of which were my own), and I'm simply tired of them. I don't mean to sound like a grouch, as I am actually happy to attend the shower and give my friends a gift for their new babies. I do wish, however, we could reinvent the baby shower, as they are all the same--even the ones I plan. I do not excuse myself from the boredom. I fully realize I am just as guilty--I cannot throw a creative baby shower to save my life. The ones I help plan end up like all the other ones--we eat cutsie finger foods, we play an annoying game or two, and then we open gifts, uttering the requiste oohs and aahs over them. The showers vary somewhat, mostly over the hosts' willingness or unwillingness to play the annoying games. One of my best friends is expecting her first child in October, and I am determined to make that baby shower different. How, you ask? I don't know--I presume a stripper and tequila shooters are out of the question.

Audience(s)

I've been thinking a lot about audiences lately, particularly the audience for my blog. I've been rereading past posts and thinking a lot about blogging and my audience. I began this blog ostensibly as a way to work out ideas about my dissertation, and it quickly became more of a journal about my adventures in new motherhood. Occasionally my blog has touched on political issues, and I have continued to blog about my work. But more often than not, I have written about my concerns, anxieties, and triumphs as a new mom. That said, I've been thinking a lot about audience lately.

In all honesty, I don't pay that much attention to how many people look at my blog, although I do try to read most of the comments and reply to them when I feel called to do so. If I was concerned about a large audience, I might experience a similar bloggy depression to the one Lilian at Mama(e) in Translation describes. Like Lilian, I enjoy the feedback, but I still think of this blog as mour of a journal--I don't always know if I want people to respond--or even to read--what I write. Several close friends read my blog on a fairly regular basis, and that make for other audience issues. Unlike my more traditional journals (which I've kept off and on for over 20 years, more off than on lately!), I'm very aware of audience when I blog. Sometimes that is a good thing, like when I write about a political issue that has moved or upset me; in that case I am writing to make my readers (that seems like such a weird thing to say) aware of something that is important to me and that I think may interest them. Sometimes when I want to write about something personal, having an audience, particularly an audience of people I see on a fairly regular basis, isn't a good thing.

From the beginning I've been fairly ambivalent about blogging. I like it and I don't like it; it has its positives and its negatives. But I keep doing it, and I'm not quite sure why. It is an avenue for me to "talk" about things that I don't normally get the opportunity to talk about, and I like that I've met other women who are at a similar place in their lives as I am. But sometimes it is darn annoying to have to think about who will read my blog before I write. That statement begs the question: why don't I blog completely anonymously? For the most part, I am anonymous; if you don't know me, it would be difficult for you to figure out who I am. But, as I said, several good friends know I blog and read my blog with some regularity--at my invitation, I have to admit.

So what is my point? I'm not altogether certain. I'm learning (or perhaps I'm relearning) that it is ok to be ambivalent about something that I generally enjoy doing. I'm also realizing that as much as I claim I would continue to blog if no one read my blog I am not so sure I would. Having an audience makes "journalling" more difficult, but it also makes it more rewarding.

But insurance companies still pay for viagra. . .

So I don't understand why it is such an issue to cover the cost of birth control pills, especially for young women who are clearly not ready to be mothers. "Birth control prices soar on campuses" is another example of how women are penalized for being women. Isn't it more cost-effective for Medicaid and insurance companies to pay for birth control pills than for them to insure children or pay for uninsured children?

I think most of us knew this. . .

"Painful sex common after giving birth": didn't most of us know this already? I think a more important thing to study is why don't more women talk to their doctors (heck, or even each other!) about this. Why is it still taboo for women to discuss sex?

Unmedicated Childbirth

A good friend of mine is expecting her first child in October, and we were recently chatting about unmedicated childbirth. She asked me if I would have another unmedicated birth and if I would use the Bradley method again. I immediately answered yes; I would try for a very similar birth experience, as both C and I were very happy with S's birth. That said, my feelings about our birth experience are very complicated, and while I've happily shared the birth story with most good friends, I haven't really gone into much detail regarding my feelings of the birth. As with most of my mothering decisions, I feel very protective and almost defensive about my experience. My need to write about my protective feelings is more about me thinking through why I'm so protective of the experience rather than feeling attacked by people who disagree with my choice.

I know precisely why I am protective of my birth experience (and I say my rather than our because C and I have very different perspectives on the experience). For me the experience was completely about my family; I wanted to do what was best suited for us. While on some minute level, I did feel committed to having an unmedicated birth to prove all the people who questioned my desire and ability to do it wrong. But all of those feelings went away the minute I went into labor. I've discussed my experience with other women who've had unmedicated childbirth and women who elected to have medication. Most of these women describe the contractions as painful, and while I wholeheartedly agree contractions hurt, I'm unhappy with the word "painful." Since S was born I've been searching for a word to describe what I experienced with my contractions. Painful seems too negative, too harsh. Intense is a good word because I think intense can refer to positive and negative experiences, but painful has too many negative connotations associated with it. Perhaps I'm overly sentimental about S's birth (which is entirely possible considering the difficult days and weeks that followed not only due to having a colicky newborn but due to the death of C's dad the day after S was born), but I'm unhappy calling that experience painful. That day was anything but painful. So now I discover that I've become one of those women who wax poetic about the "pain" associated with childbirth, and I don't feel that accurately describes my experience either. It was a tense and intense day; we came dangerously close to an emergency c-section because S's heart rate was not stable. To this day, I'm not even certain how close we came as I was busy coping with contractions; C, my doula, and my doctor have all told me we were within minutes. Luckily, my doctor was able to turn S while he was inside of me (I will associate pain with that particular experience!), and he quickly stabilized. Forty-five minutes after that, my beautiful son was born. So when people ask me if I would choose another method of childbirth, I have to say no. Our method (I hesitate to say we used the Bradley method because I really believe the Bradley method encourages you to develop your own method of relaxation techniques to get you through childbirth) worked for us once, and I would happily do it again.

Writing this, I find that almost six months later, I still haven't processed that day completely. My life was profoundly changed that day in October. I also know that C and I haven't discussed it as much as either one of us would like to because S's birth is forever connected with his grandfather's death. To me death is painful; birth is not.

Welcome!

My good friend Sarah, who blogs at Mommy, Ph.D., welcomed her baby girl into the world on Sunday. Baby AB, as I believe Sarah is calling her in the blogging world, is a beauty, with long, graceful fingers and a head full of dark hair. Welcome to the world, little girl!

The Decoration of Houses

Warning: I'm using today's post as a free-write to work out some ideas for my dissertation.

I'm reading Edith Wharton's The Decoration of Houses, which she co-wrote with Ogden Codman, in preparation for my trip to her home, The Mount. I'm going there in May to do some research on Wharton's architectural and design ideas. As I was reading, this quotation struck me: "The very dangers and barbarities of feudalism had fostered and preserved the idea of home as something private, shut off from intrusion."

I've been thinking about this sentence since I read it yesterday. The idea that danger and uncertainty promotes privacy of the home interests me. Wharton (and Codman, although I'm much less interested in him) presents very clear ideas of home or the desire for home in many of her works; in fact, my dissertation a chapter on Lily Bart's desire for a home of her own (hence, my interest in Wharton's own home). That struggle and uncertainty promotes privacy seems integral to her fiction, especially The House of Mirth. Lily clearly doesn't experience the same kind of danger Wharton is referring to in this passage from The Decoration of Houses, but Lily does experience a sort of societal danger. But the danger Lily experiences has the opposite affect; it degrades rather than promotes her privacy. I would argue (and I think Wharton would agree) that Lily lacks privacy because of her position in society and because she has no space of her own. Even at the end of the novel, when she is living in a rented room, Lily still does not possess any space that is truly her own. She is excluded from society, and to an extent that exclusion affords her a certain amount of privacy. She is, however, still the talk of her social set, although they have discarded her. Everyone knows where she is and what she is doing, yet none of her "friends" or "family" knows the truth about Lily. How then does her lack of space affect her sense of privacy and her sense of her self? Lily carefully constructs herself to appear one way in front of her friends, and she rarely lets that mask fall, even when she is alone. How closely are space and privacy connected then? Lily has no space, and the only privacy she has is what her social set allows her. Clearly, I'm not sure where I'm going with this yet . . .

Waiting Game

C's on campus interview was earlier this week, so now we're waiting.

New tooth, sitting up, and chunky thighs

It has been an exciting week for S--he is sitting up on his own, he got a new tooth, and his chunky, chunky thighs make it impossible for me to put pants on him. We went to a state park today to admire the wildflowers, and I wanted to dress him in his very cute blue jeans. The blue jeans went on easily, but when I sat him down on the floor to play while I finished getting ready, he toppled over. His jeans were too tight on his chunky thighs for him to bend his legs properly so he couldn't sit up. I laughed so hard I cried, and then I changed my chunky baby's clothes.

Books, parenting, and unsolicited advice

I've recently purchased a few books to help me figure out life with a five-month-old: Super Baby Food by Ruth Yaron, The No-Cry Sleep Solution by Elizabeth Pantley, and Touchpoints: Birth to 3 : Your Child's Emotional and Behavioral Development by T. Berry Brazelton. Each has been helpful, especially Pantley's book, which came highly recommended by my friend Sarah at Mommy, Ph.D. In a recent conversation with my mother, I mentioned my recent book purchases while we were discussing how S is doing with his attempts to eat solid food (as an aside, why do we call rice cereal and baby food solid food?). She asked me what I fed him first, and I said rice cereal mixed with breast milk and, then a few days later, sweet potatoes. She then told me what she fed me and my siblings first--rice cereal and applesauce. She also reminded me, as she has done repeatedly over the past 5 months, that she gave me rice cereal when I was 4 days old and I slept through the night. I told her that I purchased a book on feeding babies, and it suggested the sweet potatoes because of the low likelihood of allergies to sweet potatoes. I then told her about Pantley's book because, frankly, I'm so ready for S to be able to put himself back to sleep that I was (and am!) excited to have a book that has worked for people I know. My mom sighed and said: "I never needed a book to help me with you and your siblings. I don't know why you can't just try the methods I used. You obviously turned out ok."

In the five months I've been a mother (and the 9 I was pregnant before S was born) I heard similar comments from my mother and C's mother. I gave up trying to explain that it had been 30+ years since they had children and that things had changed. I gave up reassuring them that yes, C and I did turn out fine, but that we wanted to be able to do things for our child without calling them or our pediatrician every five minutes. I gave up wanting to strangle both of them, and I simply reminded myself that they were well-meaning because they are. But it is still frustrating. In this particular instance, I just changed the topic. I know the implicit meaning behind my mother's comments: she feels that I'm calling her a bad mother because I'm not following her advice or doing things precisely as she did. I didn't get that when I was pregnant, but I do get that now that I'm a mother. By buying books rather than calling her and relying on her admittedly bad memory, I'm criticizing the choices she made as a mother. I once tried telling her that I research as part of my career so that it comes naturally to me to research things about my child. That didn't work because she said children can't be researched (which, for the record, was one of the most absurd things I think my mother has ever said). I understand that by criticizing my choices, my mother is defending hers. So now instead of getting annoyed with her criticism of me, I just change the subject. I wish she could understand that I'm just trying to figure this all out on my own and not questioning her choices.

On a different note, I spoke to my grandmother yesterday, and she offered some unsolicited advice too. I told her I plan to give S bananas next because I'd read they are easy to digest. She told me to stock up on the stain remover as bananas stain. That was some useful advice!

Too cute

S has a bumbo chair, which he isn't all that fond of. But our cat Pearl has recently discovered it. This was too cute, so I had to share.

I love my boys

I do. I just wanted to share that.

Mixed emotions

C has an on-campus interview, which is great. What is not so great is that the university is in a town more conservative than the one we currently live in and it's even farther away from our families. I'm thrilled that he has an interview, and I'd love for him to get the job. He'd make what we're making together and then some. But I'm not sure I can stomach three or four more years in conservative small town America.

Spring Break is almost over

And I've accomplished absolutely nothing--school wise at least. I haven't done any reading or writing, and I certainly haven't graded any papers. I did manage to clean out S's closet and sort through all the clothes he's outgrown. I put a lot of stuff away should we decide to have another baby (which is the topic on our mothers' minds!), and I'm giving away some stuff that I'm not attached to. C, who is a bit of a pack rat, would have me keep everything, but that just seems unreasonable. Monday I'll be able to get back on my normal schedule. Today, S and I are going to the local pool to sign up for a water babies class and to take a nice long walk in the beautiful spring weather. We may even go buy some flowers to plant!

Sounding board

So as those of you who read this blog and offer many helpful comments have become my sounding board for me and my frustrations regarding C's dissertation, I am, logically, his sounding board. In all honesty, (and yes, C and I have discussed this!) I'm tired of his dissertation. For the past 6 months if we're not talking about S and family issues, we're talking about C's diss and his job search. I honestly don't feel like I can talk about Colonial Merida one more time or the implications of the facade he's focused on. And I know he's tired of it too. I guess I'm feeling a little whiny. I want C's feedback on my work--I want to talk about me for awhile.

One of the things I love the most about our relationship is that we give each other great feedback on each other's work. He has read my proposal several times, and now I want him to read the work I've done on the first chapter I'm working on (ok, so it's only 5 pages). I just don't feel justified in asking him to do it. I so, so, so want him to get finished that I've put a lot on hold because this is what is right for my family. But I'm still a little frustrated. I do have other people who could read it, but the 5 pages are in the "stupid" phase. There are a very select number of people whom I ask to read my work when it is in the "stupid" phase, and that number is 1.

To add to the stress, C's mother (whom I get along quite well with) is in town for the week, and she is spoiling the pants off of S--as much as you can spoil a 4.5 month old. At least I won't have to buy the kid clothes until the end of the summer. . .

Big smile

S and I picked C up at the airport yesterday. After 5 days of not seeing his father, S lit up as soon as C took him from me. Our little guy literally tossed his head back and laughed while grabbing at C's face. I think S's reaction made up for a lot of the frustration C experienced this past week.

Still irritated

After two incredibly productive days, C had problems with his advisor again yesterday. Monday and Tuesday they made great headway, and the first three chapters of his dissertation are finished--or at least ready to send to committee. And he's already spoken with his other committee members, and they both have told him they don't anticipate any problems and are ready to sign off on it. So why is his advisor flipping out and continuing to make comments about his familial responsibilities? I have no idea, but I do know that my usually even-tempered husband called me yesterday afternoon angrier than I have seen him in a long time. Usually he's the one calming me down because I have a quicker temper than he does. But I spent 45 minutes yesterday reminding him why he is in the northeast and why he has to put up with her comments. After her fourth comment regarding his ability to get the dissertation finished and fulfill his familial responsibilities (and after she asked if I had any more conferences to attend!), C finally told his advisor, as politely as he could, that she had made her point and that they needed to get to work so as not to waste the little time they still had together. I am so proud of him for saying that! He kept his temper and managed to get her back on task. Oddly, he seemed more like the teacher than she did.

He and I talked about this for a long time last night, and neither one of us is sure why she had the sudden change in attitude--literally overnight, her entire attitude about his ability to get it all finished changed. While he does have a fair amount of work left to do, it is manageable, and he thinks he can get it done by the end of the month. I hope she cooperates because I don't think he'll be able to stand the disappointment if she prevents him from graduating.

C's dissertation

Since I've written about it so much I thought I'd give you all a glimpse of the building that is the focus of C's dissertation. This picture doesn't do it justice, but it gives you some idea of its complexity. It is the Case de Montejo in Merida, Yucatan.

Light at the end of the tunnel

C gets home tomorrow, and his trip, thus far, has been successful. He and his advisor have gone through each chapter, even eliminating one (although its contents have been put elsewhere). He gives a talk tonight for his department, which is supposed to serve as a practice job talk and preparation for his defense next month. So, in the end, all the hassle I wrote about yesterday seems to have been worth it. He will graduate as planned, and we can now begin planning our trip up north to attend his graduation and visit some good friends. There is light at the end of the tunnel.

Academic Women, Supportive Wives?

I really wanted to write about this last week when the annoying person intruded upon my life, but I was so angry that I wanted to take some time out to think about the annoying person and the annoying event.

C is currently at his "home" university, meeting with his dissertation advisor to finalize his dissertation and make plans for his defense next month. His trip is annoying to me for several reasons. First, it seems what is being done could have been done long distance, as he had done most of the work long distance. Second, the flight and hotel stay was very expensive, and as 2 graduate students with a child, we don't have a lot of disposable income. But as the trip was planned some time ago, I had time to mentally prepare and time to establish a routine with S, which has made it easier for the two of us to be alone. But he was supposed to go last week, and the weather delayed him. He was set to leave on a Sunday, but he couldn't make all of his connecting flights due to weather. He could have gotten there by Tuesday, but then he had to meet me in another city on Thursday, as I was presenting at a major conference. I, obviously, needed him to take care of S while I was at the conference. The conference didn't offer childcare, and I didn't know anyone else attending. As I said, we had worked this all out over two months ago, but the weather simply didn't cooperate. When C called his advisor to tell her all of this, she flipped out. She essentially demanded that he get there as soon as he could and advised me to find childcare in the city of the conference or cancel my trip altogether. She told him that he didn't have time for such distractions and that if he didn't make the planned trip then they would seriously have to reevaluate whether he'd be able to graduate on time. I was LIVID. I felt like I was being attacked for not supporting my husband. Now, since S has been born, I've had decisions I've made as a mother criticized by various people, and I feel like I handle those quite well. But what I found so annoying about this particular situation was that this woman, a fellow academic, was questioning my need to attend a professional conference. She was essentially telling C that he needed the kind of wife who would put her career on hold indefinitely so that he could complete his dissertation. My conference wasn't as important as his meeting. To be completely honest, I don't think my conference was as important, and if necessary, I would have cancelled--it is more important for my family that C finish his degree and get a job than it is that I go to a conference right now. That said, I don't think she had any right saying that or even implying it. In the end, C had to reschedule his trip due to the weather, and she seemed to understand. We were able to arrange everything so that I made my conference, and he is at his "home" university now. She even apologized for flipping out, but in her apology she said "This is the disadvantage of being an academic couple with a child," a comment that didn't sit well with me at all.

In the week since this happened, I've been thinking about it a lot, and I'm still not certain what bothers me the most about her comments. I have no relationship with this woman, so her opinion doesn't really matter to me. But I felt like my choices were being questioned, and I felt like she was suggesting that being an academic and being a mother aren't compatible. My biggest fear in life is that I will have to sacrifice time with my child for my career or vice versa, so her comments gave voice to anxieties I've already been experiencing. I also didn't like my reaction to her comments and her suggestion that I find childcare in a city I'd never been to before and would only be in for 2 days: I immediately thought, "Spoken like someone who doesn't have children." I've written before about the division between women with children and those without, and all of a sudden I found myself in the middle of this debate--and I didn't want to be there. I'm still angry that she, an academic woman, suggested my career wasn't as important as C's and that she suggested that I wasn't being a supportive wife, but I honestly don't know which bothered me more. I wanted to list all the sacrifices I've made in recent months so C could work on his dissertation, as well as the time he's sacrificed with S and me to work on it. I then wanted to remind her what it was like to be at my stage in her career and how important conferences can be. But then I'm not defending my choices or my family's choices to her, I'm defending them to myself. Her comments brought all of my insecurities about motherhood and academia to the surface at a time when I thought I'd had all that figured out. That I am now rethinking all of that really annoys me.

S and the bottle

S continues to improve with the bottle. As Supadiscomama predicted, he began to take the bottle when he started daycare. Being my kid, however, it wasn't easy. For the first week, I would prepare 2 bottles every morning, and when I picked him up, I would take home 2 bottles, minus 1 ounce of breastmilk. As soon as I got him home, he would nurse for over an hour to make up for what he had missed in the 4 hours we were apart. My stubborn boy would take drink just enough milk to take the edge off of his hunger, and then he would wait for me. The one of his teachers decided to experiment with nipples. A breastfeeding mother herself, she tried a type of latex nipple that her own son preferred. As soon as she put the bottle in S's mouth, he downed the entire 2 ounce bottle and then ate the other. The next day, I prepared bigger bottles, and today, he drank a 5 ounce bottle. He still nursed for an hour when we got home, but I now choose to believe it is because he missed me and our snuggly time together rather than because he was famished. C was home with us today, so he got to experience the marathon nursing session first hand. He asked me if I minded that S wanted to snuggle and eat that long, and I assured him I didn't. I've come to think of that hour (and sometimes longer!) as our special time together. I quickly realized that C was a little jealous of my time with S, so as soon as he finished nursing and his short nap, I passed him over to his dad for some serious playtime. I spent the next hour watching them play together.

I have to say that although I still hate that I have to take my son to daycare, I no longer feel guilty about spending so much time with him. After my four hours of work, I'm more than ready to spend the rest of the day with my little guy.

Changes

Before I begin, I must confess that I contemplated trying to title this post like the David Bowie song of the same name, but I'm not sure how to express phonetically. . .

My life is changing. C is currently on the job market; he recently had 5 interviews at his field's equivalent to MLA. All the interviews went well, and now he's anxiously awaiting the call for on campus interviews. I really want him to get a job, and not for all the normal reasons. Yes, the increased income would be nice, and yes, I want a bigger apartment. But I really want him to get a job because he has had a hard year. Basically, he deserves the validation that I know will come with a job offer. He does great research in a very interesting and understudied area. He also sacrificed a lot for me to work on my doctorate while he was still working on his. When we moved for me to begin my program, he had to get a job as an adjunct instructor, and he effectively lost a year. Since then he has faced lots of other challenges, and he's overcome them all. I really don't want to move because we have a great group of friends, I have a support system of other academic mothers, and I'm really happy with our life here, despite the obvious drawbacks of small town life. But I want this for him. He deserves it, and everyday I check our answering machine with fingers crossed hoping this is the day he gets a call about a second interview.

To blog or not to blog

Since S started daycare 2 weeks ago, I've felt less of a need to blog. I now have four hours every morning to work, and thus far, I've made good use of that time. I now have creative and intellectual outlets; I don't have to rush to get something done or hope he'll nurse long enough for me to get out a blog. That said, blogging simply hasn't been on my mind lately. I've had plenty to write about, but just not much inclination. Not surprising--I've always journaled on a whim, and since I think of this a journaling, I'm only doing in when the mood strikes me. I do, however, miss the community aspect of blogging, so I'm hoping to get the inclination more.

Politics, Potential Presidents, and Roe v. Wade

I definitely don't want anyone in the White House whom people are comparing to Ronald Reagan. I had thought John McCain might be the least detrimental of the potential Republican candidates, but after reading "McCain says Roe should be overturned" I'm not so sure.

A new baby and daycare

Yesterday I acted as a doula for my good friend and happily helped her and her husband welcome their beautiful baby girl into the world. I have to say birth is an entirely different experience when you're not the one giving birth. It was so thrilling to see Baby J crown and to encourage her mother to fulfill her goal of unmedicated childbirth. I was deeply honored to be there and very, very happy to return the favor, as Baby J's mama acted as my doula at S's birth three months ago. As I was with my birth experience, I was deeply awed by the strength of the female body. Welcome to the world Baby J!

After such a great day, I woke up this morning not feeling so great. Today is the first day I take S to daycare. I will be with him the entire time as we're spending this week transitioning. Tomorrow C will take him, and on Friday, we will take him together. We've talked about this endlessly, and while I know it is the right decision, I feel horrible. I'm going to be a complete wreck next Monday, the first day I will leave him by himself. As I reread that sentence, I know how preposterous it sounds. I am not leaving him by himself. I'm leaving him with capable caregivers whom I trust and who were highly recommended by two good friends. I know I'm setting myself up to feel like a bad mother, whatever that means, but I really feel like I'm leaving him all alone.

Sexuality, Gender, and My Son

After Sarah's post on RB and the infamous Judith Butler, I've been thinking a lot about S, gender, and sexuality. For several weeks now, C and I have been commenting on S's fascination with women. My 3-month-old son will bat his big blue eyes and flash his charming smile at any woman he sees, but he will only smile for C and a few close male friends. He really seems to prefer women. Yesterday a good friend and I took S to a coffee shop, where we sat near a pretty undergrad studying macroeconomics. S immediately began smiling at her and "talking" to her; he only stopped when she finally acknowledged him. For the entire 45 minutes we were there, he made eyes at this attractive young woman, and quite honestly, he gave me the dirtiest look when we left. Does this mean anything? I certainly don't think so, but when C relayed this story to his mother last night, she expressed relief that "S isn't gay." Apparently since her youngest grandson is growing up with academic parents who vote Democrat and don't go to church regularly, she feared he would be gay. When C told me of his mother's comments, I rolled my eyes and went on with my nightly routine. But the comment bothered me. Frankly, I couldn't care less if my son is homosexual or heterosexual or bisexual; he can be whatever he wants to be so long as he grows up to be a caring, thoughtful individual who is considerate of other people. So why is my son's gender and sexuality so important to so many people?

I don't believe S has a gender right now, and I've read enough theory (and more to the point, I actually buy into a lot of the theory) to know his sex can change too. But to be honest, I'm not so progressive that I dress him in dresses or put bows on his head. I buy his clothes in the boys' department, and after he was born I was very happy to be able to do so rather than buying one more yellow sleeper, as yellow is apparently the only gender-neutral color. That said, gender seems so irrelevant at his age. He doesn't know the difference between a truck and a doll (and yes, he has both, and right now, he prefers the doll, although he doesn't know what a doll is), and he won't know the difference until C and I explain it to him. So why did my mother wait to begin making him a baby quilt until he was born? She wanted to know if she could use pink or blue. Why did my mother-in-law put aside the Madame Alexander catalog once S was born? Boys don't like dolls. If RB can realize that gender is malleable and ever-changing, why can't most adults? I think I'll invite RB over to play with S so she can begin to explain the complexities of gender to him.

Frustration

I continue to feel frustrated over work. C asked me last night why I was blogging rather than using the 45 minutes I had to myself to work. I wanted to strangle him, although I suppose it is a valid question. My answer: in 45 minutes I can compose a blog post that relieves some frustration and releases some creative and intellectual energy; in short, I can finish a blog post in 45 minutes. 45 minutes, however, is just enough time for me to get into a writing groove, at which time I am generally interrupted by S. C's academic work is taking precedence in our family right now because he graduates in May and has several interviews lined up for next month. I know that this is a necessary shift; I have enough time to get the work done I need to for my online class, but not much time to read or write for my dissertation. I'm finding that very, very frustrating. Yesterday I found myself trying to explain the complex mind of Doreen Masey to S while he nursed; he didn't find it at all amusing, especially as he has an ear infection and a bad cold.

Breastfeeding divide

Whenever I find an article like this one "Food or lewd? Breast-feeding opens divide," I always want to rail at the media. Would their really be a divide between breastfeeding moms and bottle-feeding moms if the media didn't report on or, dare I say it, create such divides? I've read a lot about the so-called "Mommy Wars" between working moms and stay-at-home moms, but I've often wondered if these "wars" would exist if some idiot at Newsweek didn't think it would make a great article to interview working moms and stay-at-home moms and ask them why and how they resent each other. Do mothers really have time to think about waging a war with other mothers? I don't mean to diminish the very real tensions that exist among mothers, but I do wonder if these tensions exist partly because the media continues to report on them.

Writing and guilt

I am longing to write, and I want to write more than just a blog entry, more than just a lengthy email to a friend, more than just an announcement to my students, more than just a travel request to my department. I want to begin drafting a chapter of my dissertation. I know what I want to write and how I want to write it, but I need several uninterrupted hours to sit down and do it. I spent an hour and a half formulating an entire section in my head last night at 3 am while S nursed. Once he fell back asleep (after 25 minutes or so) I even contemplated getting up and working, something I never, never thought about before he was born. But, as usual, my mind wandered to something else, and although it took me over an hour to fall back to sleep, I didn't think about writing again. I've resigned myself to the reality that I won't likely get any real writing done until he starts daycare in a few weeks, and I'm feeling a tremendous sense of guilt over that. I am so conflicted about daycare. I have learned in the past three months that I am not stay at home mom material. In the past three months that I've been a SAHM, I have developed the highest esteem for SAHMs; I want to want to be one, but I can't even manage to take care of S all day long and throw dinner in the crock pot most days. I don't have it in me to be a SAHM because I don't think I'd be a good one. I'm a perfectionist, and in the past three months I haven't found time to dust my house while taking care of my infant let alone do all the other stuff my mom did as a SAHM. There hasn't been any homemade bread for C or fancy dinners. And I feel like I should be doing all things domestic now that I'm home most of the time, but I end up sitting at my desk, nursing S, staring longingly at a huge pile of books while the dust continues to accumulate on my bookshelves. If I were working more, I feel like I'd have an excuse for not doing all those things, not that C expects or wants them. I have this image of a SAHM in my head, and I haven't lived up to it.

So I look forward to writing when he starts daycare, and then I feel guilty for that. I don't want S to go to daycare, not even part-time. I never expected to feel so conflicted about daycare; it was always understood that our children would go to daycare for some period. I've found one I like, and I've talk to the teachers at length. I know he'll be happy there, and he'll even benefit from the interaction with other kids. But I feel like a horrible mother for sending him. I feel like I should be able to be take care of S, write a brilliant dissertation, and make homemade bread for C (who has never once expressed an interest in or a desire for homemade bread). As with every part of my life, I know my expectations of myself are too high. I want to be able to do it all and to do it all really well. So right now the closest I can come to writing is this blog. When S starts daycare, I know I'll spend the first few days crying, and then maybe I can get past my guilt and start writing again.

Can you explain this to me?

For the past month or so, we've been trying to get into a routine. During the last 2 weeks of our winter break, I mandated that we all (C, S, and me) be up, out of bed, dressed, fed, and ready to go--even if we were hanging out at home that day--by 9:00. Every morning that both C & I were home, we failed miserably. I repeatedly found myself still in my pajamas at 10:30 or later. With 2 adults home, we couldn't manage to get S ready for the day let alone ourselves. Last week, C's semester started; he is gone 2 days a week from 6:30 until 3:00 or so and one afternoon from 1:00 until around 7:00. Every day he has left the house at 6:30, I have managed to fulfill the mission I gave both of us: S & I are up, fed, dressed, and ready for the day by 9:00. I told C this and he looked at me as though I were Superwoman. He asked if S & I hung out in bed like the three of us do on the mornings that C is home. I told him we did all the normal things--we did S's "baby exercises" in bed, he nursed for 30 minutes after that (I manage to make myself a quick breakfast before he nurses, so I can eat while he nurses), and then he played in his bouncy seat while I took a short shower and got dressed. This morning, I've even managed to make the bed, wash a load of clothes, and run the vacuum cleaner upstairs--all before my online office hours begin at 10:30. Granted, C did feed the cats, make coffee, and unload the dishwasher before he left this morning. But why is it that I can get all of that done on my own while caring for S, but the two of us can't?

My explanation: I'm much more productive when I know I don't have anyone else to rely on. I don't spend half of my morning asking C for help or waiting for C to do something for me. I just do it myself. So why don't I just do it all myself when he's home? I've been asking myself that, and I have two explanations that I am happy with.

1. He needs to feel needed.
2. I don't want to do it all myself! I want us to work out a morning routine together that gets us all up and ready for the day by 9:00! I think we'll have to keep working on that one . . .

Are you ever to old to have a baby?

I ran across this article, which was published on MSNBC a few months ago. Like the LAF website, this falls into the category of "I don't know what to make of this." While on some level I agree with the author that 66 may be too old to have a child, I don't agree with the way he has gendered his reasoning. His reasoning is simple: the parent may die before the child reaches adulthood. In the beginning, he cites the numerous well-known men who have had children over the age of 55--Tony Randall, Donald Trump, Larry King, Luciano Pavarotti, and others--along side well known women who have had women past the age of 45--Cheryl Tiegs and Geena Davis are the two he cites. I immediately noticed the age differences. I also immediately noticed that Tiegs and Davis have been open about the fertility treatments they went through to become pregnant while all of the men were able to conceive naturally. The author goes on to state "My proposal is that anyone over sixty-five who is single should not use reproductive technology to have a child. If you have a partner, then your total ages should not be more than 130. And if you are female and at or near fifty-five years of age and going to carry a pregnancy, then you can use reproductive technology only if you can pass a tough physical examination. Sixty-six—forget it." This sounds like a reasonable proposal (although a bit intrusive and I'd also like to know who made him the fertility police), but what is implicit in his argument is the assumption that he will only "police" those who need fertility treatment. Seventy-plus- year-old men can (and do) impregnate women without fertility treatment, so the author is seemingly arguing that post-menopausal women are those who should not have children. Further, his pronouns after the above quoted paragraph are almost exclusively feminine. Women, then, cannot have children past the age of 45, but men can continue to have children as long as they can get a prescription for Viagra. There seems to be a flaw in his argument. Is age really so important when it comes to parenting? Perhaps we should judge parents by their parenting skills rather than by their ability to become pregnant or to impregnate someone else.

Not sure what to make of this one. . .

Since I'm trapped inside once again due to inclement weather, I don't really feel like working today; knowing that the university is closed somehow gives me license to slack off, as if I needed that. I was clicking on various links on blogs I visit often, and I found one called Mom & Much More that really interesting. On her blog, I found a link to Ladies Against Feminism, which appears to be a thoughtful, well written blog, albeit one I am not sure how I feel about. It is written from a Christian perspective, and in truth, it is fairly well written--I already said that, didn't I? I'm not sure why I find that surprising, but I do. . . What bothers me the most is the site's tone. It is prescriptive rather than objective; it is clearly telling readers what to think and feel. That bothers me no matter what the political or religious content of the site. I've stopped visiting the NOW site for the same reason. I am a big supporter of NOW, but I don't enjoy being told what to think about issues. I'd much rather read an objective article so that I can make my own decision than be told what I am supposed to think. The LAF site also bothers me because it assumes that being a Christian and a feminist are mutually exclusive ideas.

Progress

This morning S took a bottle from C in the house with almost no fussing, and he promptly fell asleep for 45 minutes afterward. We were able to eat lunch together for the first time in weeks--and I didn't even have to nurse S through lunch. It feels good to know that he is slowly figuring out the whole bottle thing.

So the uncertainty begins. . .

C has been applying for jobs since just after S was born. He has submitted over 40 job packets, and late last week, he received his first call for an interview. This was something to celebrate in our home! C had S while he was listening to the answering machine message, and he immediately passed S off to me so that he could run around the house screaming like a mad man! It was both amusing and endearing. It has been a tough year for C for a lot of reasons. First his advisor basically dumped him (said advisor took a position at another school over a year ago and assured C he would stay on as his advisor, but this summer, he suddenly dumped all his students from his previous university), he was forced to take on advisor who works in his time period but not his specialty, he has been working like mad to finish his dissertation, and he has been trying to balance fatherhood with a full-time teaching load and working on his dissertation. On top of that, his father died less than 24 hours after S was born. So last week's phone call gave him a much needed boost of confidence and a reminder that he is good at what he does.

While I was so happy to see my husband excited and happy, I am feeling a fair amount of uncertainty about the next few months. I truly hope that C gets several more interviews and that many of those result in on-campus interviews. But I am not mentally prepared to move in August, especially not across the country. Despite the disadvantages of smallish-town life, I have to admit I'm happy here.

MLA and my residual guilt

MLA was over 2 weeks ago, but I'm still experiencing a lot of residual guilt from the conference. While I sat in interviews and engaged in some really great intellectual conversations and learned a lot about what to do and what not to do when I am on the job market myself, S & C struggled 7 floors below me. S has been refusing to take a bottle for several weeks now, and his refusal came to a head in a hotel room in Philadelphia. So even though my son is now taking bottles occasionally (we're still working on it) and my husband and I have discussed my guilt and his frustration, I still feel horrible about that entire experience. My guilt was compounded when I asked a friend to watch S yesterday for about an hour; again, he refused to take a bottle, and my friend was forced to come get me so I could nurse S. Later that afternoon C tried again to give him a bottle, and again, S refused. After 15 minutes of screaming, I couldn't take it. I took him from C and nursed him, and as soon as he positioned himself at the breast he latched right on and gave what I imagine must have been a sigh of relief. While I know these episodes, as C & I have started to call them, won't scar S for life, they are scarring me a bit. I already have a fair amount of anxiety about daycare, which S starts in a few weeks, but his refusal to take a bottle is making my anxiety a thousand times worse. Unfortunately, I simply can't be with him all the time, and I've worked out what I think is an ideal situation. He'll be in daycare 4 hours a day while I frantically work on my dissertation, and he'll spend the afternoons with both parents most days. I feel really good about this decision, or at least I did until he stopped taking bottles. My advisor told me what she hoped would be a reassuring story about her son: he never took a bottle, and she had her dissertation finished by the time he was 2. She said, "I'm proof that a dissertation can be written while your child naps." I fear I'm nowhere near as organized as my advisor, so I didn't find this particularly helpful. As I type this post, S is nursing away, and C is making up a bottle for later this afternoon to try again.

The measure of a mother

I came across this very interesting article entitled "What's the real measure of a ‘good mom’?" and numerous responses to it. Reading this article made me ask myself (once again): are we obsessed with motherhood, and why is motherhood valued so much more than fatherhood? And finally, is it even possible to define what it means to be a good mother or a good father?

As S plays away in his bouncy chair right beside me while C edits a dissertation chapter, I wonder if S will value one parent more than the other. At this point in his life, it seems silly for me to even contemplate that. But remembering my own childhood, I do have to admit that there were certain times when I preferred one parent to another. My mom was great for making things better, and I can remember wanting to be with my mother much more when I was younger. But my mom wasn't always so great at helping me when things couldn't be made better. As I got older and life got more complicated, my dad was much better at helping me with things that couldn't be fixed--he'd let me cry and rant until I felt better about whatever had upset me, while helping me realize that not everything could be made better with a hug. Both of my parents had their strengths, and I value both equally, although very differently. My mom taught me to be a loving, compassionate person, while my dad taught me that I could accomplish whatever I wanted. Both encouraged me to challenge myself and to ask questions of those around me. Without either of them, I wouldn't be where I am today, and I know I will take things from both of their parenting styles as I parent my own son.

So why do we rarely see articles on the measure of a father? Why do we assume that mothers play a more influential role in the lives of their children? It seems as though when children succeed or fail the mothers are held responsible. As much as our society claims to value equality in parenting, we still seem to value mothers more, and along with valuing mothers more, we also hold them to unreasonable standards.

MLA

This will be the first in a series of posts on MLA, so here goes.

I recently attended MLA for the first time, and my experience was good and bad. First, I didn't attend a single session or here a single paper given, so I can't speak to that aspect of the conference. I attended the conference as the graduate student representative on my department's hiring committee. My knowledge of MLA as a conference is limited to a very nice suite in a very nice Philadelphia hotel, where I sat with 4 other people for 2 days interviewing a total of 14 candidates. Much of the time I was wondering whether C, who was 7 floors below me with S, was having any luck getting S to take a bottle and if I'd have enough time to run downstairs and nurse S between interviews. That said, I learned a lot about the job market and the interview process. I hope that the process will be much less stressful when I am on the market. Here are a few things I learned:

1. Don't be boring.
2. Answer the question--much like a Presidential campaign, if you don't answer the question asked, you will just piss off potential voters.
3. Be prepared to answer the obvious question--for example, if you've applied for a position in 19th-century American lit, be prepared to answer questions regarding your teaching and research in that area.

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year! I am hoping to be able to blog more in the future now that S is beginning to be able to entertain himself.

Celebrity mothers and privacy

Supadiscomama blogged about celebrity mothers a few weeks ago, and I've been thinking about her views in terms of my own interests of public and private. Supa argues that celebrity mothers should come clean about their ability to instantaneously recover their figures after childbirth. Like Supa, I find myself a bit annoyed by women like Heidi Klum who are able to don lingerie and walk down the catwalk in front of thousands a mere few weeks after giving birth. I am fully aware that such women pay lots and lots of money to regain their figures quickly--and I can only imagine sacrifice lots of time with their newborn children to do so. While I applaud women like Patricia Heaton and Sarah Jessica Parker who have publicly explained how they were able to regain their figures, I don't think I have any right to know that. For me, it is a privacy issue--and part of the reason why I've tried to stop reading E news and watching E! I'm not claiming any sort of moral superiority here either. But I've complained about the tabloid nature of our culture enough that I feel like I need to stop contributing to it. So while I will still feel bitter about Heidi Klum's abs while I struggle to even find the time to do a single sit-up, I pledge to try to not care about her abs or any other celebrity's abs. After all, I darn sure don't want anyone looking in my bathroom and discovering what few "beauty secrets" I have.

Will they use it?

I am thrilled at the prospect of a male birth control pill, but I wonder if men will really use it. . .

Public vs. Private

The more I blog (and admittedly, I haven't been blogging that much lately) the more C & I discuss the public nature of blogging, something he is increasingly uncomfortable with. We've discussed setting up a family blog, so that our families and friends (most of whom live far away) could get more regular updates and see pictures of S, who is changing every day. C is really uncomfortable with this idea. He dislikes the idea of anyone being able to see pictures of all of us, especially S. I'm not sure why it bothers him so much, but he is genuinely concerned about posting pictures of S on the web. For him, it blends the public and private too much, whereas I'm largely unconcerned. I do try to maintain anonymity, although several people do know my "true" identity--but these are all the people I consider to be close friends. So we will continue this debate. . .

Is anyone really surprised?

Considering the state of women's equality in the world, are we really surprised that the UN failed to elect a woman Secretary General?

Proposal Approved!

My proposal has officially been approved by all committee members! Now I just have to get everyone's signatures on the official form (a feat in itself), and I will officially be ABD. That is a load off of my mind.

Things about motherhood no one can prepare you for #3

As C, S, and I slowly establish a routine (notice I didn't say schedule!), these things aren't coming to me as quickly. My latest revelation is that no one can prepare you for how fast your child grows and changes. S is now almost 7 weeks old, and he is a completely different baby. He has gained 4-plus pounds, grown at least 3 inches, and changed so fast. He can hold his head up and is kicking his legs like crazy. He is also sleeping better, nursing more efficiently, and cooing all the time. While I'm so thrilled to get to know his emerging personality (he is both stubborn and demanding, as things must happen on his time table!), I do miss the little guy we brought home from the hospital. I am enjoying be able to put him down more often as I can get things done, but I am a little sad that he no longer feels the need to be held constantly. I'm learning that motherhood is about love, acceptance, and moving on. I don't have much time to dwell on how fast he is changing since I have to be on my toes to keep up with him.

Motherhood, Fatherhood

Mommy, Ph.D. and Supadiscomama have an interesting and insightful discussion of motherhood and fatherhood on their blogs, which I've commented on. I would like to add that I find it equally interesting and ironic that in a society where we tend to value motherhood over fatherhood (as Ms. Reads pointed out in her comment on Supadiscomama's post, people rarely ask a father how much time he is taking off after the birth of a child) we also emphasize the importance of the two-parent household. Stay at home mothers with husbands who work full-time jobs often feel like single mothers (I have a good friend who has this complaint. Her husband owns his own business and often works 70-plus hours a week.). They have a happy, healthy marriage, but she does everything at home, not by choice but by necessity. So their 2-parent household is effectively a 1-parent household much of the time. The people over at Focus on Family don't seem to address that issue. . .

As if new moms didn't have enough to worry about. . .

I found an article on mental health and new mothers that is interesting, but it certainly isn't reassuring.

Focus on Family

Sarah over at Mommy, Ph.D. has introduced me to the Focus on Family website, especially its discussion of working mothers. I'm so flabbergasted that I can't even speak, let alone write a coherent response. James Dobson (who has a Ph.D. in child psychology) writes "The issue, then, is not whether a woman should choose a career and be a mother, too. Of course she has that right, and it is nobody's business but hers and her husband's. I would simply plead that you not allow your family to get sucked into that black hole of exhaustion. However you choose to divide the responsibilities of working and family management, reserve some time and energy for yourselves -- and for each other. Your children deserve the best that you can give them, too."

I always want to throttle anyone who makes statments like this. He assumes it is a choice. We couldn't survive if only one of us worked, even if we weren't both working on advanced degrees. I know very, very few families that could. And his statement regarding fathers is antiquated and offensive. Most fathers I know, including C, work just as hard as I do to give their children the best while trying to fulfill their own needs.

Holidays

The holidays are upon us, and as usual, I anticipate them with mixed emotions. I actually really enjoy the holidays. C & I have our own traditions that we like to follow, and we're both very excited to experience our first holiday season with S. That said, our families can make the holiday season much more stressful. We live across the country from our families, so every year (in July or August) the inevitable questions begin: are you coming "home" for Christmas? I've yet to figure out how to answer that question. I'm not being cryptic or sarcastic--for a change. It is simply that as a married adult who has not lived in the same city as her parents for over 8 years, I don't necessarily think of the city where I grew up as "home" anymore. I also have a hard time thinking of my parents' house as "home." I really like visiting our families, for the most part, but I have to be honest--I prefer my own space. I dont necessarily think of TX as home either, but it is where C, S, & I live together. It is our space, with our things and our habits. This year's travel is going to be doubly stressful. We haven't been "home" during Christmas for 2 years, we have S, and C's dad died in October (the day after S was born). I have so many mixed emotions about this trip that I feel compelled to write about it, and since this blog has become my journal of sorts, it seemed like the best place.

We've been married for over 6 years, and we've yet to figure out how to have a stress-free holiday with our families. One would think that since they live in the same city it would be easier. Nope, nope, nope. We are still expected to divide our time precisely, and we're constantly concerned about not hurting anyone's feelings. Our parents also conveniently forget that we both still have friends in town we'd like to see, but that becomes almost impossible with all the things planned for us. And that is what stresses me out the most. I HATE to have things planned for me; actually, I just really dislike being told I HAVE to do something. Like attending an extended family dinner with people I don't know, have nothing in common with, and who barely acknowledge my presence while I'm attending said dinner. Being with C's extended family stresses me out a great deal. I'm not who they expected C to marry, and I feel like many of them blame me for "taking" him out of the family circle. In their minds, I'm somewhat unconventional. My family, in all honesty, isn't much better. My parents take a very laid back approach, telling me "do what you need to do," which actually only works to add more stress. So it will be interesting, needless to say. I plan to use a very convenient excuse my good friend Sarah has suggested: I'm going to spend a lot of time breastfeeding S in my old bedroom to get away from all the excitement. . .