A little less flummoxed

Tonight at dinner, amidst Wild Man's ongoing discussion of his events at school (it seems that his buddy Theresa chased him around the room yet again), C and returned to our conversation of home birth. I asked him point blank how he feels about it. He said he many of his original feelings still stand, especially given the emergency nature of Wild Man's birth and how close we came to having a C-section. But he also said he feels like our situation in CU Land is somewhat different.

If we had wanted a home birth in Southwest College Town, we would have been hard pressed to find a midwife to work with us. We would have had to pay all expenses out of pocket, as our insurance didn't cover home births. Add all of this to the general anxiety we felt because we were having our first child, and a home birth just wasn't something either one of us was willing to consider. This time, however, if we choose a home birth, we will have two certified midwives attending us, both of whom we've already met and really like and trust. In C's mind, this changes the game a bit. These are women who have credible degrees in midwifery from highly respected Canadian universities. Both have been practicing for some time, and both have attended numerous home births in the past. While he still has lots of concerns, C also made it very clear that he is more than willing to discuss this with our midwife and consider this as a real option.

For my part, I'm still uncertain. I don't know if I can even articulate why the idea of a home birth is appealing to me this time around. I don't feel that I had an unsatisfying birth experience with Wild Man. Given the issues surrounding his birth, I really believe I had as close to the experience I wanted. My midwife and I have already talked about Wild Man's birth, and she has assured me that she will not perform several of the interventions that my OB just routinely did. I will not, for example, have an episiotomy this time around; if I tear, I tear. But I've done some research on this, and apparently the rate for tearing is greatly reduced when a woman uses a midwife--at least this is what the stats I've found for the province we're living in indicate. I did some quick research on home births earlier today, and I was reassured by what I learned. The survival rate for moms and babies are actually slightly higher in a home birth environment than in a hospital--it is around .25% difference. Midwives are required by provincial law to stay with the family for a minimum of 2 hours after the placenta is delivered, but most stay at least 3 hours if not more. Midwives are also required by law to visit the mom and baby the day following delivery, and most visit a minimum of 3 times in the first week (and my midwife will do this regardless of whether I give birth at home or in a hospital). As I wrote in my earlier post, midwives bring all necessary equipment with you, although families are responsible for any extras they want--like renting a birthing tub.

I feel at least somewhat more knowledgeable about this, and tomorrow we're going to ask my midwife some questions about home births. We both still have lots of questions and some concerns--like what do we do with Wild Man, for example. He gets upset when I throw up and tells Baby Z to "leave Mommy alone"; I don't think he'd react well to hearing me in labor. Clearly we have a lot to figure out, but it is really cool to know that this is something we can think about now.

Flummoxed

I cannot think of another word for how much C floored me yesterday; he truly left me flummoxed, and I'm not sure what to do about it.

Yesterday we were discussing my next appointment with my midwife and what questions we had (as an aside, at some point I need to write about the differences between having a midwife and an OB). As we talked I relayed a story that my office mate (yes, I'm finally making friends!) had shared with me about the birth of her second daughter. She had a home birth and told me that, unlike what I know about home births in the states, she and her partner didn't have to provide anything; the midwife brought it all. I was really surprised by this, and said as much to C. He then looked at me and said "You've been talking a lot about home births recently; do you want to have a home birth?" I was completely floored.

First, I haven't been talking about home births a lot recently; or if I have, I certainly didn't realize it. Second, I have been contemplating the advantages of a home birth, but given C adamant stance against home births, I haven't brought it up with him. C made this comment just as we were putting Wild Man in the tub, which immediately precedes the bedtime routine. After Wild Man fell asleep, C also went to bed, as he is trying to get over a cold. We never really got to finish the conversation, and I'm not sure how I feel. On one hand, a home birth scares the crap out of me, but on the other, I remember how many times my sleep was interrupted by nurses and how loud the hospital was. I haven't been considering a home birth as a way to avoid medical interventions because I know my midwife and I are on the same page there, but I have thought that a home birth might be more restful in some ways. Now that C has put it out there, I feel like it is something I can consider and we can talk about. But first I have to figure out how I feel about it. . .

Progress, continued

For some reason it helps me to keep a record of what I've done on my blog, so I'm sorry if these little updates are boring to the few readers I have, but I will likely keep doing it.

Here are this week's stats:

Monday: mostly lost due to travel, but I did manage to get some revisions done on the plane while Wild Man watched a movie.

Tuesday: wrote 5 pages and mapped out the next section

Wednesday: wrote 5 pages and marked up several articles I need to take notes on

Thursday: Thursdays are always a bit of a bust because I teach, and frankly, I'm not sacrificing any of my other writing time to prepping. I prep in the morning and teach in the afternoon. Luckily, the past two weeks I've been teaching the text I'm writing my current chapter on, so I didn't have much prep to do. Yesterday I worked on some revisions and read an article.

Today: I've spent the better part of the day wrestling with Foucault (b/c I thought it would be fun to make my life more difficult) and Patricia Hill Collins. I've written a page and a half and think I can get at least one more written before I have to pick up Wild Man.

Tomorrow: we have lots of errands to run, and C and I are planning to do a bunch of cooking so we have stuff in the freezer. I will take advantage of Wild Man's naptime though and hope to write at least 2 pages.

Sunday: same as Saturday.

Weekly total: (assuming I get 4 pages written on Saturday and Sunday) 16, give or take a half a page.

If I can stick to this, I can have this chapter entirely drafted by Tuesday, which puts me just a week behind schedule. I'm a pretty fast reviser, so I think I can make the time up fairly quickly and get back on track. Now that I've put it out there for all my bloggy friends to read, I have to do it.

Wild Man changes his name

For the past several months Wild Man has been obsessed with the movie Madagascar. He loves this movie so much that C bought him beanie babies of all the characters, and they have quickly become his favorite toys. He is particularly enamored by Gloria. In fact, he has recently decided that he is Gloria. He has refused to answer to anything but Gloria for the past two days. When we refer to him by his name, he says "No, I Gloria." He even insisted that his teachers call him Gloria today at school. When we picked him up and he said good-bye to all of his friends, they called "Good-bye, Gloria." But he is not only insisting that he is Gloria; C has become Alex, I have become Melman, and our cat Minerva is Marty. In order to get him to do anything, C and I have had to stop calling ourselves Mommy and Daddy and start calling ourselves Alex and Melman. It's been an interesting few days in our house.

Some days

Some days, like today, I have a lot of success with my writing--at least in terms of how much I'm able to produce. Other days, like last Wednesday, I have so little success that I end up feeling intensely disappointed in myself. What is it about any given day that means it will either be a good or a bad work day? I realize there is no real answer to this question. As my mom says to me when I tell her I'm having a bad day,"Sometimes your moon is just in asparagus." I know some things are unexplainable, but I tell you, I really wish I could explain this one thing so I wouldn't have any more unproductive days.

Home

After a weekend trip to attend the baptism of our goddaughter, we are home. Wild Man woke up this morning asking to see Jeezy and Lion Cub, which made me tear up a bit, but once I assured him that Jeezy and Lion Cub would be visiting in a few months, he was comforted (Note to Solon and Megs: you can't disappoint Wild Man; this kid has an amazing memory. He will ask when you're coming to visit every few days until he sees you next!).

Returning home, I have all the usual things to do after a trip: laundry, grocery shopping, a bit of cleaning. After C and Wild Man left this morning, I actually contemplated doing all of those things quickly (well, except the shopping as C took the car), but then I heard Jennie's voice in the back of my head saying, "Let it go, M. Go work." While I did start a load of laundry, I am only planning to do what is absolutely essential to life--I mean, I only have so many pairs of maternity pants! The cleaning can wait. We're having a quick and easy dinner with ingredients that are already in my pantry, so there is no need to go to the store (although I do think I will get C to stop by the store on the way home to pick up a few essentials) until the weekend. Tonight, C and I are finally going to sit down and make list of daily and weekly chores that have to get done. I plan on hearing Jennie's voice every time I consider putting something on the list. Now that I've finished answering student emails (you'd think these ladies had never written a short paper before), I'm going to have a quick snack and get down to work. I need to crank out at least 5 more pages today, and since I have a pretty good handle on this section I am feeling very confident that I can do this!

Progress

I've made some real progress in the past few days--post mini-breakdown. Yesterday I managed to write 4 pages and begin revising the chapter as well. As I was making some revisions I realized that one section I had planned to write I had, in fact, already written. Now instead of writing said section I just need to write a short paragraph that connects the first section of the chapter in which I discuss this issue to the second section of the chapter. I know this is all fairly cryptic, but it does make my life infinitely easier.

In other news, C completed a major grant today--the third he's submitted in the past two weeks. He has plans to begin work on a book prospectus and he also has to revise a short paper for a conference he is attending in April. But, other than teaching, he has no major deadlines for the rest of the semester. In fact, he has no major deadlines until the fall. So he has agreed that the next 10 weeks will be about me. We're making the chore chart this weekend, and we're also planning a huge trip to Costco (thanks for the idea, Jennie!) to stock up on easy to make meals. I'm a bit obsessive about healthy food for my family, so we already have a few things in the freezer. Now I just have to focus on my work and letting things go. I will make this happen!

A bit of a breakdown

Yesterday I had a bit of a breakdown. After spending the morning reading through all my research and making an extensive outline for my Jacobs chapter, I found myself completely incapable of writing. I managed to write about 2 pages, but I wasn't happy with it and couldn't figure out how to fix it or how to move past it. As I was in C's office, while he was teaching, I decided to give myself a break by going to the library to check out some books I need to consult. I thought the change of scenery might help me recollect my thoughts so that by the time I returned to C's office I could write again. No, such luck. I sat back down and tried to write, and I felt overwhelmed. C was back by then and asked me what was wrong, and I just started crying. And I couldn't stop. I tried to explain what I was feeling, but I don't think I made much sense. In the end, I said, "I'll be 20 weeks pregnant on Thursday. That means I have 10 weeks before I have to have a complete draft of this damn dissertation to my committee. I don't know if I can do it, especially not if I keep having days where I have writer's block. I just feel like I'm never going to finish." And then I cried some more. I know C was at a total loss, and I also know he's feeling a fair amount of guilt over my anxiety.

When C was at this point with his dissertation, I basically took 6 months off from my own work--I did lots of research and kept teaching, but I did no writing. This enabled me to focus on Wild Man and take care of the house so that C could get his dissertation finished. I'll be honest; it was a brutal 6 months. By the time he was finished, I was becoming increasingly resentful that I didn't have much time to devote to my own work. In hindsight, I realize that, given C's 4-4 teaching load at the time and his hour-long commute one way, one of us had to make a sacrifice, and at that point in our relationship, that had to be me. I have always assumed that C would make a similar sacrifice when I got to this point in my dissertation. I didn't, however, anticipate that I'd be pregnant with our second child and that C would be a tenure-track professor at a R1 university. Given the demands of his job, he can't put his own work on hold the way I did. And while C does everything around the house in terms of home repair, I do almost everything in terms of the day to day stuff, a point he will readily agree with. So when I find myself vacuuming the house while C preps lectures or works on a grant, I get a little angry. Or when he asks if I can take Wild Man with me to the grocery store so he can have some quiet time to work on the weekend, I really, really want to smack him hard. We have talked about this, and he has agreed that it is totally unfair, while also pointing out that I should have said something much sooner (yes, I know he's right, but I have felt hard pressed to say anything when he's expressed so much anxiety over tenure). We're going to sit down and develop a "chore chart," something I loathe to do, but something that I really believe is essential to my own mental well being. I don't want a dirty house, and I don't want to sacrifice time with my son. But I do want to finish this dissertation before Z arrives so that I can enjoy the summer with my family before I begin the next phase of my career.

I believe I can do this, but I also know I can't do it without help. I need C to understand that help isn't always him sitting down and talking my ideas out with me. Sometimes help comes in the form of clean laundry, a hot meal, and an occupied child. I know I have lots of long days and nights ahead of me, but hopefully, I'll have fewer breakdowns.

Wild Man-isms

This morning Wild Man requested to see some pictures of his friends from Southwest College Town. Well, actually, he requested to play with Supa-T and Mr. Noodle, but as that isn't possible, we made do with looking at pictures on my computer.

We just finished looking at a series of pictures that include 3 of Wild Man's friends: Supa-T, Jeezy, and Lion Cub. In several shots, Supa-T is helping give Lion Cub a bath. Upon viewing these pictures, Wild Man said to me, "He help give baby a bath. Bless his heart!"

Note to my mother-in-law

I am, in fact, not a horrible person who is desperately trying to keep my child away from you.

I will either elaborate on this post or delete it, depending on how I feel once I'm no longer pissed.

Revising Introduction

This morning, while C occupies Wild Man, I'm trying to revise the introduction to my second chapter. Can I just say that I hate revising introductions?

A question

I have a question for all of my readers in cyberspace--and although this is a question about parenting (sort of), I'm equally interested in the opinions of those of you who aren't parents. I'm sorry to be cryptic with the information, but I'm not ready to be specific.

If you were selecting a guardian for your child (or children), would you feel compelled to select family members over friends? Also, what do you consider the most important thing when selecting a guardian for your children? Is a familial connection more important than choosing someone who shares your values?

A proud parenting moment

Today, we made our weekly trip to Costco--yes, I know we live an exciting life here in CU Land! Wild Man has taken the opportunity of turning this weekly trip into his weekly excuse into conning Mommy and Daddy into buying him a hot dog. Today was no different as the moment we pulled into the parking lot, Wild Man announced "I need a hot dog." We've actually gotten into the habit of planning this trip around lunch time, so we're generally willing to accommodate his request, as we were today.

As we made our way through the parking lot, Wild Man asked both C and I to run with him, so we did. Once we got to the store, however, I told him he had to stop running so he wouldn't get run over because the entrance to the store was mobbed. Being 2, Wild Man didn't want to listen, and said "I run, Mommy. You just hold my hand." When I told him no, he again tried to run. So C picked him up and carried him inside the store. This really annoyed Wild Man, although he tolerated it fairly well. He did tell C, "I no want you, I want Mommy." C asked him if he wanted a hot dog, which, of course, Wild Man answered affirmatively, but he also reiterated that he didn't want C. So while C got himself and Wild Man a hot dog, I took Wild Man with me to the bathroom.

Once we got in the stall, Wild Man began hitting the wall and grunting. I asked him what was wrong. He didn't answer, but kept hitting the wall. So I asked him "Are you mad at Daddy?" He said "Yes, I mad at Daddy." When I asked him why, he said "I want to run." I told him he needed to tell his father how he felt. After we washed our hands and returned to the snack bar, Wild Man told C "I mad at you, Daddy." C looked at me, but I just shook my head, indicating he was going to have to talk to Wild Man about it. C asked why, and Wild Man explained the best he could, although as a proud mother, I have to say I think he explained his feeling quite well.

To be quite honest, I wasn't 100% sure how C would react. At times, he can be short with Wild Man, especially when it comes to Wild Man not listening. And C had picked him up and carried him into the store precisely because Wild Man wasn't listening. C, however, said "I'm sorry I made you mad, but I needed you to listen and to get out of the other people's way. I picked you up because I was afraid you would get hurt. Thank you for telling me how you feel. I'm proud of you for sharing your feelings so well." This is the first time that Wild Man has verbalized his anger like this; generally, he responds as most toddlers do--he cries or he hits one of us. C and I are both really proud that he was able to articulate his feelings so clearly. And I'm really proud that C responded as he did. I feel certain that C never expressed any anger toward his father ever, and I feel equally certain that if he had his father would not have responded so positively. After this exchange, Wild Man happily ate his hot dog!

Product confusion

You know, it really hasn't been all that long since I had a baby. Wild Man is just a little over 2, so less than 3 years ago I did copious amounts of research on various products, put together a registry, and bought things that I thought would work for us. I naively assumed that this time around choosing products would be easier, especially since I now have experience on my side. It is, however, even more complicated now.

C and I have been discussing bottles and diapers this week. With Wild Man, we registered for and received a number of Dr. Brown's bottles. I selected this brand based on the large number of positive reviews I read online and got first hand from moms and dads; however, Wild Man hated them. Granted, my boy hated bottles, and he only ever took them reluctantly. We ended up using Playtex nursers with him because they were the only kind he would ever take. C thinks we should play it safe and use these again with Z, but frankly, the number of plastic bags we threw away while using these bottles made me sick to my stomach. I want to try bottles that don't include a disposable liner again. But now, I have to pick out bottles that I think Z will like and that are BPA-free. Do you have any idea how hard that is? Let me tell you, BPA-free bottles are enormously expensive, and most don't look remotely inviting. Add to that our current diaper dilemma--cloth or disposable--and I've been doing a lot of baby product research in my spare time--as in when I'm not dissertating or chasing Wild Man. I'm learning that not everything is easier the second time around.

A little history of our own

On an historic day, I thought I'd share a little history of our own.

And the drama begins. . .

C just got off the phone with his sister, who asked if I was following doctor's orders correctly. C replied "Huh?" Apparently, Yetta interpreted the fact that I may have to have another ultrasound to check on the placement of my placenta to mean that I have been put on bed rest. C explained the actual situation to Pita, who initially seemed to understand, but as they were getting off the phone, she said "Make sure M keeps her feet up and doesn't pick up Wild Man at all." By next week, I'll be on death's door, I'm sure.

Pink, Pink, and More Pink

During a day that is mostly devoted to my dissertation, I took a lunchtime break to do some online browsing for Z. We had previously thought that Z would get Wild Man's room part and parcel as we're moving Wild Man into the room that is currently my office and I will be taking over the room that is currently C's office (it turns out C doesn't need an office at home; he works better from school, and when he does work at home, he takes over the dining room table.). But the more we talked about these impending spatial changes, C said "You know, it doesn't seem fair that Z gets nothing new." He went on to recognize that he knows Z won't give a damn about her bedroom or bedding, but still. I see the validity of his point. Wild Man was our first, and he got lots of new stuff out of necessity. Z will be getting lots of hand-me-downs, including hand-me-down furniture while Wild Man will be getting new (at least to him) furniture with Z's arrival. On some level, it does feel like Z is getting screwed, at least materially.

So I took a few minutes while I ate my lunch to peruse some nursery bedding for Z. I found pink, pink, and more pink with some lavender occasionally mixed in. I do not want a pink room. Don't get me wrong; I like pink just fine, but I don't want a pink room. I just don't. Ideally, I'd like something to go in the current room so we don't have to paint; after all, we just painted the entire upstairs in September. Thus, I need something to go in a light aqua colored room. Let me tell you, there isn't much that is considered to be for girls that goes with light aqua. In fact there isn't much without flowers, ruffles, or fairies. I could go for something plain white with a little pink in the trim, but really, what is the fun in that? For boys, there are lots of things that go with light aqua, but as progressive as I am I don't think I want Z to have dinosaurs, trucks, or sailboats. I'd really like something with animals, which is what we ultimately chose for Wild Man. But apparently girls only like lambs, bunny rabbits, or butterflies--romping in vast fields of pink gingham. It looks like we will be choosing something that is gender-neutral for Z just like we did for Wild Man.

Wild Man announces. . .

that he will nurse Baby Z.

We've been talking with Wild Man about nursing and Z off and on for a few weeks. At first, he wanted no part of any such conversation, telling me adamantly that "Z can have bottle, Mommy." Wild Man apparently still remembers nursing, and when he's having a bad day or even a bad moment, he still wants to snuggle with me and always puts his hand on one of my breasts. He is fascinated by breastfeeding of any kind and will approach perfect strangers he sees nursing to ask them about it. We've been talking about it because I anticipate this will be the primary source of jealousy for Wild Man when Z arrives. Every time we've talked about it, he has offered alternatives for Z, even telling C "Daddy, Baby Z will eat your nu-nus (Wild Man's word for breasts)."

Last night may have marked a change though. As I was dressing him for bed, he asked to see my belly and said "Mommy, I kiss Baby Z." Then he looked down at his chest and said "Baby Z will eat my nu-nus, Mommy!" Maybe this won't be such an issue after all . . .

And C decided to. . .

find out Z's sex. And we think Z is most likely a girl. The ultrasound tech wasn't 100% certain, so we're speculating. C was more than a bit annoyed with the uncertainty of it all when we left the appointment. He said "How can I get excited when we don't know for sure? We may as well have not found out at all!" I, admittedly, laughed at him. He can be a bit dramatic, my husband.

As it turns out, I will likely have to have another ultrasound in a few weeks, so we may be able to get some confirmation on Z's sex. The tech wants me to have another scan because she was a bit concerned that Z's placenta is too close to my cervix. She made this comment before I went to the bathroom, and once my bladder was empty she said it looked to be farther up. She said that she was going to show the images to the radiologist and recommend a second scan in a few weeks. Cody's a bit worried about this, but I'm not. It's still too early for them to diagnose me with placenta previa, and I know that as Z and the placenta grows that its placement is likely to change. If I do have it, there isn't much we can do about it. Depending on the placement of the placenta my midwife could refer me to an OB, and I may have to have a C-section, which doesn't thrill me. But so long as both Z and I are healthy, I can handle that.

Aside from that, Z is quite lovely. Z has long, long legs (not unlike Wild Man). Z also didn't enjoy being poked and prodded at all. Although she cooperated by moving all over, she also swatted at the ultrasound wand, which the tech found quite amusing.

To find out, or To not find out, continued

It seems we will be making this decision much sooner than expected. I had a routine appointment with my mid-wife this morning, and she scheduled my next ultrasound appointment. It seems the radiology clinic she is sending me too had a cancellation this afternoon, so I have my 18 week ultrasound later today. We still have yet to make a decision as to whether or not we will find out, but we do have to make that decision today!

To find out, or To not find out

I've been getting so many questions about this topic, I decided I'd break down and write a post.

Right now, at almost 18 weeks along, I'm most often asked, "Do you know the baby's sex?" "Are you going to find out the baby's sex?" comes a close second. Our answer: we haven't decided yet. With Wild Man, I adamantly didn't want to know. I was so against knowing, in fact, that I pulled the "I'm the one carrying the baby" card to trump C's desire to know. Ultimately, however, I did tell C we could find out it if it meant that much to him. On the day of my ultrasound, C told the tech that we didn't want to know.

With Z, C told me as soon as we found out I was pregnant that he wanted to know. He reasoned that we're accustomed to a boy; thus, he wanted to know so he could mentally prepare if Z is a girl. This made sense to me especially as I know my husband well enough to know he isn't remotely concerned about treating a girl differently or making sure we have pink clothes for a girl. A daughter will change our lives in a way that a son will not. Why? Well, primarily because she would be the only granddaughter on C's side of the family. That means that Yetta and Pita will flip out, both in good ways and bad ways. Suffice to say, they will both be much more interested in and invested in a girl than they will in a boy. As much they voice their opinions and attempt to interfere with how we're rearing Wild Man, they will do so ten-fold with a girl. C wants time to mentally prepare for the number of batles he will have to wage with his mother and sister if Z is a girl. I understand that. Further, we did it my way with our first, so it seems only fair that we do it C's way with our second.

But just as I got my mind wrapped around finding out, C announced a few days ago "I don't want to find out Z's sex. I mean, it really isn't going to make that much of a difference is it? We waited with Wild Man. We should wait with Z. Remember how cool it was when the doctor held him up and we realized he was a boy? I think I want to experience that again." So, now I am in the process of mentally regrouping as it seems we won't be finding out Z's sex. But, to be quite honest, who knows? As my ultrasound isn't for two more weeks, we have lots of time to change our minds yet again, and I feel quite certain we will do just that at least two more times!

No more procrastinating

I'm currently in the midst of a serious case of procrastination, and today, I'm declaring an end to it. I realized in the middle of the night that I have about 12 weeks to finish a complete draft of my dissertation and send it to my committee. I have a lot of work to do, but I do think it is manageable. So, as I couldn't sleep from about 2 until 3:15, I came up with some deadlines that I'm putting in the blogosphere in an attempt to keep myself honest.

Jan. 30: Send complete draft of 2nd chapter chapter to my adviser
Feb. 15: Complete revisions of 1st chapter
Mar. 10: Complete revisions of 3rd chapter (these will be a major revisions and include an as yet undrafted section, so I'm giving myself more time with this chapter)
Mar. 25: Complete revisions of 2nd chapter
April 10: Complete draft of introduction; send dissertation to committee

This gives my committee about 3 1/2 weeks with my dissertation before a proposed defense of the last week in April or the first week in May. Once I send my 2nd chapter to my adviser I will be able to comfortably set a definite defense date. This is a tight schedule, I know, but I have more than the desire to finish looming over me. I can't travel after May 10th, and frankly, that is pushing it a bit more than my midwife is comfortable with. Now, I'm going to get some work done!

I really wish. . .

that I would wake up tomorrow and find my dissertation finished. That would be a lovely thing to discover.

I'm hungry. . .

basically all the time. I wake up hungry, and I eat a snack right before I go to bed because I'm hungry. I'm hungry an hour after I eat. For example, this morning, at 7:30, I ate a piece of toast, an egg, and a grapefruit for breakfast. Plus I had juice and coffee. By the time I got to campus at 9:20 my stomach was growling. Seriously, C heard it and asked me if I was ok. I just ate a banana and a granola bar, but I'm still a little hungry. At this rate, I'll spend the entire day eating and not get anything done. I remember experiencing extreme hunger while carrying Wild Man, but I don't think it started this early!

I hate sewing

I just took a break from my office reorganizing to hem some pants I bought last week. I hate sewing, hemming in particular so much, that I was just going to take them to be hemmed, but then I realized I'd be without the pants for about a week. Frankly, I need these pants. I still haven't gained any weight, but as C told me recently, I've "popped." Most of my non-maternity pants still fit, but they aren't exactly comfortable. The 2 pair of pants I had from my pregnancy with Wild Man (I was pregnant in the summer in the Southwest; I lived in capris, shorts, and skirts) don't fit quite right any more, so I recently bought three pair of maternity pants. I was lucky enough to find pants that actually fit in the legs and butt, since it seems I've lost weight there since I gave birth to Wild Man. In fact, and I don't think of this as necessarily a good thing, I'm smaller (but weigh the same) than I was when I got pregnant with Wild Man. I attribute this to the fact that I've been lazy and haven't incorporated a work out routine into my life in CU Land. To remedy this, I have located a yoga studio that offers prenatal classes and am going to start a class in a few weeks.

To return to the topic at hand, the pants fit, but given that I'm only 5'3" they were much, much too long, as in 6 or 7" too long. So Monday, while Wild Man napped, I pinned all three pairs, and today, I hemmed them. Let me repeat, I hate hemming. I can sew, barely. My mom taught me the basics, and I have a small, portable machine. I like to make things, as in curtains, quilts (I've made 3), and the like. I am not good at clothes because I don't have the patience to follow a pattern. And while I can hem, I'm not great at it, and I don't really like to do it. Why do you ask? Because I find it really hard to sew in a straight line. Yes, that's right: I'm a drunk sewer. When hemming pants, it is sort of essential to sew in a straight line. I hemmed two pairs and managed to sew the hems fairly straight, but I wasn't perfect by any stretch. Oh well, at least I now have something to wear on my bottom half for the first day of class tomorrow.

Naming Z

Naming Z is a popular topic of conversation in our house right now, at least for me. Earlier in my pregnancy we quickly agreed on a number of names that we both liked for a boy and a girl, and since then, C feels like we're done. In fact, every time I suggest a new name, he rolls his eyes at me and says "I thought we were done; we have 5 names we like for either sex." And he's right, I like all the names on our list, but honestly, I'm not sure if I love any of them.

Within the first few weeks of becoming pregnant with Wild Man, I had found one name I loved for him--if he was a girl. Although C and I had agreed we would wait to decide on a name until he was born, I knew Wild Man was going to be Lucy if he was a girl. I was also initially certain he would be Liam if he had been a boy. Needless to say, Wild Man was not a girl, and he is also not a Liam. We added the name we ultimately chose for him to our list of names fairly late in my pregnancy. While I really liked the name, I wasn't 100% sold on it, but when Wild Man was born and the doctor showed him to me, I knew at that moment he was Wild Man. In fact, C and I didn't even discuss his name. I saw him and said "His name is Wild Man." C occasionally reminds me that I went back on our agreement to spend some time with Wild Man before naming him. I remind him that I had just done the majority of the work in creating and birthing Wild Man, so my vote on the name counts a bit more than his does. Our disagreements aside, Wild Man's name suits him perfectly; he is a Wild Man, without a doubt.

For Z, however, I'm not convinced we've found the perfect name. We have one girl's name that C is totally in love with, and I like it a lot. I am concerned, however, that it is too unusual (in fact, it is so unusual that C wanted to share it with his family during our recent visit so they'd have time to get used to it and to minimize any stupid reactions they may have). I've spent my entire life spelling my own name, and now that I have a hyphenated last name, I also have to spell my last name. It is a pain in the ass, let me tell you. If Z is a girl and we name her C's favorite name, she will have to spell both her first name and her last name, as well as tell people how to pronounce it. While it is a strong, beautiful, and name that is appropriate both for a little girl and a young woman, I'm not sure I want to inflict that on a child of mine. Wild Man will have to spell his last name, but not his first--as will Z if he is a boy (as an aside, I have to say, I do not understand why C's last name is so difficult for people to spell. It is a bit odd, but it is spelled exactly like it sounds). I also feel like it is too early to say we've decided on our list of names. Now that Z is starting to move around, I feel like I'm just beginning to know Z. I want to discuss naming Z some more, so I guess I will continue to annoy C with name suggestions until we find the perfect name.

Back to school

Today we return to our normal routine. C is currently prepping for his first grad class (which he is more than a bit nervous about), I'm compiling a reading list for my class and revising my syllabus, and Wild Man is back at school. C and I were both a little anxious about Wild Man's return to school. After all, he has been with one of us all day every day since the 19th of December. We talked about it with him over the weekend and again yesterday. We tried to keep yesterday as close to our normal Monday routine as possible, which meant that both C and I spent some time working while the other did various activities with Wild Man. C even baked cookies with him yesterday afternoon, which he loved.

This morning, after a bit of a rough night (I think my boy is experiencing some growing pains; he woke up twice crying that his legs hurt), Wild Man woke up in a great mood. He ate a rather strange breakfast--a grapefruit and blackberries. Then he watched "Curious George" while C and I finished getting ready. He fussed a bit when I told him it was time to go. I explained that I had to go to work, and he finally said, "I go school, Mommy. See my friends." He got his boots and coat on with minimal complaint (I say minimal because C dressed him for the outdoors, and Wild Man wanted me to do it). He talked happily to us during the drive to school, but when we pulled into the parking lot, he announced "I no go to school. I stay with Mommy." C reassured him that we would stay with him as long as he needed us to, and Wild Man said ok. We were prepared to stay for a while, but as soon as we walked into his classroom, he ran over to the play area and began chasing his friend Theresa (the same Theresa who "likes to shake her bootie"). After a few minutes I told him we had to go, and he said "No, Mommy. You stay." He walked over to me and pulled me over to where he was playing, but then he went right back to playing. A few minutes later, he walked over to me and said "Bye-bye, Mommy" and gave me a big kiss. He said good-bye to C, and we left. I'm relieved that was so much easier than I anticipated.

Now I have to wrap my mind around getting back to work, and with any luck, I'll find groove in about an hour or so and get a lot done today!

Movement

I've been sitting on the couch, with my feet up, for the past few hours. My back has been bothering me off and on all day (blame it on my 33 pound toddler!), and then, in the middle of dinner, I had a horrific attack of heartburn, which made it difficult to move let alone even finish dinner. C banished me to the couch, and other than getting up to take a shower and go to the bathroom, I haven't really moved. For the past 30 minutes or so, I've been revising my syllabus while my cat is pressed up against my side, wedged between me and the couch cushions. While I've been relaxing, Z has been doing flips.

My experience with this pregnancy has been so different, at least emotionally. While I was initially more anxious about miscarriage than I was with Wild Man, I haven't had a lot of time to think about being pregnant. With Wild Man, I analyzed every feeling, every twinge, every thing. With Z, I've been feeling flutters for at least the past month or so, but I have mostly ignored it because I knew it was very early, even though my mid-wife told me it was entirely possible for me to feel movement at 13 weeks. Tonight, though, there is no denying that Z is reminding me that s/he doesn't want to be ignored. I've been feeling rolls and flips all evening. I'd forgotten how wonderful it is to feel those movements. I keep giggling to myself every time I feel a movement, and C, who is working at the kitchen table, keeps looking over at me like I'm crazy. Experiencing this definitely makes the difficulty of a second pregnancy easier to handle.

At My Wit's End

Tomorrow Wild Man goes back to school, and frankly after almost 3 weeks of uninterrupted togetherness, I am very ready for a bit of a break. I'm ready for a variety of reasons, including that I want to get back to work, but mainly I'm ready because Wild Man is going through a serious Mommy-phase. Almost everything C does elicits cries of "Mommy, I need my Mommy" from Wild Man. And his latest mantra is "Hug, Mommy, hug," which he repeats incessantly. I know that given our recent travels and the number of people he saw in the two weeks we were out of town has caused some anxiety. On top of that, he had four cousins of varying ages to play with during those 2 weeks, and for the past week, because our neighbor Blue-Eyed Girl, has been sick, he's had no one but me and C to amuse him. Add to that one horrific cold that both he and I have suffered from, and it's been a rough week. I honestly think he needs a break from us as much as we need a break from him, a fact that was reinforced when he announced yesterday "I miss Shell and Cole," his nicknames for his teachers.

*And here's a note to myself when Wild Man and Z are adults with children and come to visit me and C: offer to babysit at least one night so that they and their respective partners can have a night off, especially if they aren't able to afford to hire a babysitter often. Seriously, in the 2 weeks we were with family, no one offered to babysit Wild Man so C and I could have some alone time. I get that they weren't willing to put him to bed as no one but me or C has ever put him to bed, but really, someone could have offered to watch him so we could have gone out to lunch or something. And given that no one offered in the first day or so, we didn't feel comfortable asking.

Second pregnancies

I think this will become a recurring topic for me, as I am experiencing a second pregnancy. After Wild Man was born, I wrote a series of posts about things no one ever tells women about labor and childbirth, so I think I will write a series of posts about second pregnancies and things no one ever tells you.

For today, I want to share this little tidbit: being pregnant the second time around, especially when your older child is a toddler, is much, much harder than the first time.

Shopping Dilemmas: Which diaper bag do I buy?

For the past few days, C and I have been discussing baby purchases. We kept most of the things we used for Wild Man--or at least the ones he enjoyed. We have an infant car seat and stroller, a bouncy seat, two boppies (we lived in a two story town house when he was born, and with two, I didn't have to haul one up or down stairs; now that we're in a town house again, I'm so glad we have two), an activity mat and center, lots of infant toys, and an assortment of gender-neutral clothes as well as lots of Wild Man's clothes. We don't need to buy much: some bottles, breast pump accessories (I kept my breast pump), swaddling blankets (Wild Man wore his out), a Baby Bjorn (ditto for that), and some other minor things. I am seriously considering a co-sleeper as Wild Man ended up sleeping with us for the first six months of his life, but I think I can buy one second hand. Our biggest expense thus far won't be for Z but for Wild Man as we've decided to get him new furniture and let Z use his crib and dresser/changing table. Our reasoning behind this is that the nursery furniture is not top quality and is showing some signs of wear. I'd rather spend the money on decent futuniture that Wild Man can use for a while and then do the same when Z outgrows the crib/toddler bed.

There is one thing I definitely want to buy and that is a new diaper bag. I've used the one I got for Wild Man practically every day for two years, and while it is still in good shape, it is stained and a bit small for two kids. While I intend for Wild Man to be fully potty trained by the time Z is born, I will still want to carry some snacks and wipes for him with me. I want a bigger, more stylish diaper bag. I've found two that I like. One is a Mia Bossi bag which is fabulous; my friend Megs has one, although not this particular style, and she loves it. It is a very pricey, although I could use it after i stopped using it as a diaper bag if I purchased the laptop insert. I really love this bag, but I have to admit I'm not sure any diaper bag is worth $180. The other that I like is made by Kalencom, and while I don't love it, I do like it quite a lot. It is a more reasonable $70. While I doubt I'd use this after I stopped needing a diaper bag, I'm sure I'd carry this for at least two years, and for that length of time, I could easily justify $70. C, frankly, is no help. He reasons that $180 isn't that much for a bag that I'd carry almost every day for two years, and more if I spent an additional $70 for the laptop insert. Of course this is the same man that bought me a pink Juicy Couture bag on ebay one year for Christmas. He knows I love a trendy handbag, and as I don't spend money on much else, he really doesn't care if I spend money one a bag as long as it is one I will use (granted, I've bought myself 3 "expensive" bags in the past 2 years, and the most expensive was $65!). So I'm currently debating whether I indulge myself with the truly fabulous bag or whether I buy the cute bag. Of course, knowing me, I'll keep looking rather than make a decision.

A little lonesome

I just received a very supportive and encouraging email from my adviser, and all of a sudden I am missing Southwest College Town and all of our friends. I've been having a rough few days mentally with my dissertation, and as usual, my adviser helped me put things in perspective. I miss being able to meet with her to talk about these things, not only because she is a great adviser but because she is a great mentor and a good friend. Top that off with the sense of isolation both C and I have felt since we returned from our travels and viewing all the Christmas photos everyone has sent me, and I'm really missing my friends. Most days I really like our life in CU Land, but today, I'd like nothing better than to meet everyone for coffee and watch Wild Man run around the fountain with all of his friends.

We have returned

For now, that says it all. I'm sure I'll be blogging about the 11 day trip soon, but for now, I am just so glad to be in my own home with my own bed and my own things. I will say the trip was very eventful, but most of the events were positive ones. Yetta did try to initiate one fight, but C's rather unexpected response ended it fairly quickly. We have no elaborate plans for New Year's Eve. Both C and Wild Man are getting over pretty yucky colds, so we're going to lay low.

A Tale Wherein My Parents are Assertive

Earlier this afternoon, I called my parents and explained the various options Yetta had come up with for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. My mom asked me point blank what I wanted to do, and I told her that I really just wanted to have a huge glass of red wine, which given my current pregnant state is out of the question. I also told her that C, Wild Man, and I would be spending a significant portion of Christmas Day with her, my dad, and my brother whatever they decided. I assured her I would be ok with whatever they wanted to do, even if that meant I had to have two Christmas dinners or if we just went over to her house to eat grilled cheese sandwiches. She said she'd talk to my dad and call me back later. Now, given past experiences, I fully expected my mother to call and say "M, we'll do whatever you want. If it is easier on you for us to come to Yetta's house for Christmas dinner then that is what we'll do." I have to say, my parents shocked the hell out of me today.

When my mom called, the whole conversation started differently. She asked no questions about Yetta's plans at all. She said they'd be happy to attend Christmas Eve dinner with C's family as our family really doesn't have any elaborate Christmas Eve traditions. Then she said, "But, M, you know, we do have our own Christmas traditions. Your father and I would like to introduce Wild Man to those traditions, so we'd like to have Christmas dinner at our house. We'll have our traditional dinner (which is a very untraditional chicken teriyaki, rice casserole, and stir fry), open presents, and take family pictures. If this causes you major problems, let me know, and we'll figure something out." I said, "Mom, if this is what you and Dad want to do, we'll make it happen. After all, our family traditions are as important as C's family's traditions."

I don't know if I can express what a rare thing it is for my parents to be so assertive. Frankly, I don't care if this causes Yetta or Pita to have a global meltdown. My parents actually told me what they want to do, and I'm thrilled that they did.

Heading out

Tomorrow, provided the weather cooperates, we're heading out to begin our holiday travels. First, we're traveling to my grandparents; we'll spend the weekend with them. I'm very excited about this leg of the trip because we haven't seen my grandparents in a while. On top of that, my sister and her family will be there for the weekend, which means that I will get to see my entire family in a one week period, something that doesn't often happen.

From there, we head to Home State. We'll spend the first few days with C's family as Pita is going out of town the day after Christmas. She is, by the way, already living up to her name by making lots of plans and lots of demands about where we'll be and when we'll be with her and Yetta. We got a phone call this morning from Pita and Yetta, and C ended up pissed off and they both ended up cussing and in tears. This, my friends, is precisely why I'd prefer to stay in CU Land for the holidays. The problems seem to be as follows:

• My parents are anti-social. Well, we all knew that, and while it doesn't exactly make me happy, it is a fact of life.
• Yetta is tired of making everyone happy; she is especially tired of accommodating my parents. Um, ok. First, my parents don't require any accommodation. In fact, they are passive to the point of absurdity. They are not going to invite C's family to their home; it just isn't going to happen. They are happy, however, to join in any festivities that C's family wants to include them in. They are also equally happy to stay home and spend time with us.
  
• Yetta is tired of being the planner. Well, she does this to herself, quite frankly. She wants to be in control plain and simple. She's already planned extensive things for both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and she's pissed b/c my parents have declined one of the invitations (this is, apparently, why they aren't accommodating.). Yetta is pissed b/c this means that we have to go to my parents house on Christmas Day instead of just spending the whole day with her. We would have done that anyway b/c I want to see my family!
• Pita is pissed b/c she's convinced she won't get to see Wild Man enough--b/c I'm unreasonable with his schedule and will likely refuse to let her spend time with him alone. I have no response to this whatsoever.
  

So that is what I have to look forward to, and we aren't even there yet. I've already informed C that this will be our last holiday trip if they initiate any kind of fight at all. In fact, at the suggestion of a fight, I'm packing Wild Man up and heading to my family's house. I'm not putting myself or Wild Man through that crap.

And what kills me the most is that it doesn't have to be like this. It could be simple and lovely. C actually thanked my mom today for not doing this sort of crap. He said "You can be difficult in your own way, but you never pull these sorts of demands on us. I appreciate that." I know my mom appreciated him saying that; I sure did.

Dissertation Frustration, part I have lost count

Usually when I write a post with this title, I'm frustrated by myself. Well, I'm happy to report that I'm quite pleased with my progress. Since the beginning of November, I've written 35 pages of the chapter I'm currently working on (which, if we're keeping track, is the last actual chapter!). I have laid out the theoretical framework and discussed one of the texts. I still need to write the section on the next text, which I had hoped to have finished before Christmas. So, for a change, I'm not frustrated with myself or my progress. I am frustrated with the lull that is about to happen with my work.

This week is the last real time I'll have to work on my dissertation for at least 2 weeks, and more likely 3. Why? Well, we leave on Friday to travel to my grandparents for the weekend, and from there, we head to Home State on Monday or Tuesday until the 29th. Then we head back to CU Land. But when return, Wild Man's school will be closed until the 5th. So C and I will attempt to divide the day up (he'll likely get the morning, and I'll likely get the afternoon) so we can both try ever so feebly to get some work done during the week Wild Man is home with us. C is working on a book prospectus and prepping a grad class (the first he's ever taught), and I have to do some course prep of my own as well as finish this chapter. If I could have 2 weeks to work uninterrupted, I think I could have a really solid draft of this chapter done by Jan. 5th. But I'm not going to get that. I'll have to make do with what ever moments I can steal while we're visiting family, and given past experience, there won't be many. I really wish we had decided to stay in CU Land and work, work, work, but alas. I think it is too late to cancel the trip now. . . I feel so close to finishing that I don't want to stop working. I just want to finish the damn thing!

Is it . . .

too early to take a nap?

Feeling Decadent

For the second Thursday in a row, C and I have hired a babysitter to watch Wild Man so we could attend his department holiday party last week and mine tonight. I have to say, I feel a bit decadent. Last week, things were a bit more rushed, as the party started earlier. We dropped Wild Man off at Dr. Nice Guy's house because his teenage son had graciously agreed to watch Wild Man. Now, Wild Man loves both of Dr. Nice Guy's sons, but he loves this one in particular, whom I will call T. In fact, it had been several weeks since Wild Man had seen him, but last week he ran up the steps to their house calling out his name. When we got to their house after the party, around 7:30 or so, Wild Man absolutely refused to leave. He behaved perfectly for T, and then, we arrived. He threw a huge tantrum, which is fairly unusual for him, because he didn't want to leave T. This week T came over to our house as my department party started later. When I told him what time we'd be home, T encouraged us to stay out later than we'd planned. After we left the party, we actually went out for dessert just the two of us. I honestly can't remember the last time I was out after 7:00 with my husband. Oh, yes I can: my birthday in June. It is so lovely to have a reliable, trustworthy, and affordable babysitter.

Wild Man-isms

I'm in need of a good laugh today, so I thought I'd share a few Wild Man-isms. Feel free to share ones from your own kids.

• Don't tickle my butt, Daddy!
• Roar, growl, roar! (He has recently decided he is a dinosaur.)
• Pearlie, do you want to eat the Christmas Tree? (Pearlie is one of our cats.)
• I have to fart, Mommy.
• Let's eat snow.
• Don't pee in the bathtub! (I think he was talking to himself when he said this, but I can't be sure.)
• Theresa (one if his buddies from school) likes to shake her bootie.
• Mommy, I need cookies--now!
• I not! (He usually says this when you ask him to do something he doesn't want to do, as in, I am not going to pick up my toys right now!)
  

L and Run, World Run

I'm adding my good friend L, who blogs at Run, World Run, to my blogroll in a shameless attempt to get her to blog more frequently!

Today vs. Yesterday

Yesterday was very productive for me. I wrote a total of 5 pages, reorganized a rather large section of my current chapter, and graded 3 papers. Today has not been so productive, at least not in terms of my dissertation. I began the day much earlier than usual, at 6:00 am, as I had to be on campus by 8:30 to give my final. That means the entire family had to be up and out the door by 8:00, no easy task, I tell you. As I have blogged recently, C is wonderful on many levels; he is not, however, wonderful about getting up in the morning. I could set 3 alarm clocks, and he would somehow manage to sleep through every single one of them. Me, I'm the type of person who wakes up 5 minutes before the alarm goes off. In fact, when we still lived in Southwest College Town and C had to be out of the house by 6:45 to make his 8:00 class (he had a 50 minute commute), I always awoke to his alarm and then woke him up. Getting C out of bed most mornings takes a good 10 minutes. But I digress. . . We were all up, dressed, fed, and out the door by 8:15, a small miracle because since we've moved to CU Land we're seem to be perpetually 5 minutes late.

Now that I'm nearing the end of the day, I can reflect on what I've accomplished.

• given an exam, following CU's fairly strict rules (including filling out lots of paperwork, which no one warned me about)
• graded 6 8-page papers, several quizzes, and 2 response papers
  
• graded 1 exam from a course I taught at Southwest College Town this summer (the student received an incomplete due to illness, and has only just made up the final) and emailed the grade to the appropriate person
• returned books to the library
• outlined the next large section of my current chapter, which means I should be able to write this entire section tomorrow

And for the rest of the day, I'm going to pick Wild Man up at school, and we're going to the mall. Why am I subjecting myself to this torture so close to Christmas? Well, C has a meeting on campus until 5:15 today, which means there is little point in going home as we'd have to turn around to get him after being home for less than 30 minutes, and there isn't much else to do with Wild Man on this side of town considering it is 28 degrees outside. So the mall it is!

Progress

This morning I decided to channel all my frustration at life in general into my dissertation. Thus far, I've already written 2 1/2 pages, and I have a clear idea of what I want to write after my lunch break. I have to say, I'm feeling pretty proud of myself right now!

Freedom, Sweet, Sweet Freedom

For the first time in I can't even remember how long (since we moved to CU Land at least), Wild Man amiably agreed to permit his father put him to bed. Well, ok, he didn't so much agree as I slipped out of the room right after story time just as C turned the lights out. I did, however, fully anticipate that I'd be back in Wild Man's room within 5 minutes as whenever I do this, I'm usually met by cries of "Mommy, I need my Mommy! No Daddy, Mommy!" But this evening Wild Man apparently cuddled up to C and dozed off within 15 minutes. I'm usually in there for at least half an hour, generally longer. But not tonight! It's 8:15, and I have the whole evening to myself! Too bad I actually have to go grade a paper. . .

Job frustration

My friends who know me well know that I don't always deal with change very well. I am, by nature, a creature of routine. I like to know when things are going to happen so that I can plan. Of course, the fact that I've chosen to pursue a career in academia means that there is often a lot of uncertainty in my life.

As I wrote last week, the job situation is not good at CU, at least not for me. I met with Dr. Feminist last week, and she has been able to earmark one course for me next year, in the spring. She can't guarantee anything for the fall because of budget limitations. She told me that she was able to give me two courses this year because the Dean had "found" the money, which I knew. But this year's assignments didn't come with any guarantee that the Dean would "find" money again, which I didn't know. Let me clarify: I knew that I primarily got hired because of C, and frankly, I was (and am) ok with that. But I knew that I would only continue teaching at CU because of me; C may have gotten me in the door, but I am the one who has to keep me hear and, ultimately, turn the job into a tenure-track line. The Dean (who is, of course, no longer the Dean) did, however, lead us to believe that there would be a few years of part-time funding for me since she realized that me teaching here was a retention issue for C. It seems that this wasn't the case. The money was guaranteed only for this year, and now if Women's Studies wants to keep hiring me to teach part-time, they have to lobby the new Dean for money. Well, since I've been hired, the economy has gone to crap, and CU is at the end of a budget cycle. Deans and department heads across the board are starting to be conservative with their spending as they have no guarantees from the Canadian government what sort of funding they will get for the next 3-year budget cycle.

So what does this mean for us? Dr. Nice Guy, C's department head, was told point blank by the new Dean that she couldn't come up with any money for me, either for a term-appointment or a tenure-track line, unless C was in a position to leave. Meaning either one or both of us has to get a job at a comparable school and use that as leverage to get me a tenure-track job in either Women's Studies or English. I know all you academics are thinking: not so unusual. Well, this is actually a bit unusual for CU, which has a history of partner placement. In fact, both Dr. Nice Guy and the previous Dean had told C on multiple occasions (before he accepted the job) that I probably wouldn't have to have a job offer to secure a tenure track line at CU. He was told over and over again that they value their employees, have strong retention policies, and have high rates of partner placement. While I never really believed this (it seemed too good to be true), it did provide us both with a modicum of comfort. Now it seems that we will have to do things the old-fashioned way.

So why is this a source of so much frustration, since I knew inherently all along that this is the route we'd have to go? For two reasons. First, I'm now in the position of not having a teaching position for the fall. I am, of course, already looking. I'm being pro-active, which isn't always something I'm great at. I've already contacted the head of the English Department (the whole reason I didn't get courses there this year was because they had already hired all their part-time people by the time C was offered the job), and he has seemed very receptive. I have a meeting with him next week. Second, C loves his job. As nervous as he was about taking a position at an R1, he loves it, as I knew he would. He's already been asked to present at his field's major conference next spring, submitted an internal grant for research money, and proposed a major curiculum change for his department. On top of that, he has been solicited by a publisher to turn his dissertation into a book, and he actually has time to work on a book prospectus. He has also started working on an article. Because he was teaching a 4-4 load and commuting an hour each way, he didn't have time to do these things when he was lecturing at the small liberal arts college near Southwest College Town, a job that was slowly sucking the life out of him. In short, my husband is flourishing here. I don't want to be the reason he has to leave CU. I honestly don't see myself getting a job at a comparable school the first year on the market, which will be next year. And given the nature of my field and the economy, I am fully aware it will likely take me two years (if not more) to even get an offer. All of which means, I will be facing some job uncertainty for a while. It's times like these when I ask myself: M, why didn't you go to nursing school?

Wild Man and morning sickness

First, I want to say that the all day sickness I experience while pregnant has subsided. Now I'm just sick first thing in the morning and that's it. This I can handle. And this also seems to be waning. If I actually get to sleep past 7:30 (a rare thing, let me tell you), I manage not to vomit. But every day this week I've been up much, much earlier than that, so I generally start my day with my head in the toilet.

This morning, as he has done many mornings, Wild Man followed me into the bathroom. As soon as I knelt in front of the toilet he asked "Mommy, are you ok?" Then he tried to close the toilet, saying "You no sick today, Mommy." I think he meant "Tough it out, Mom. Mind over matter!" When he realized that I was, in fact, going to be sick, he stood right beside me and rubbed my back while I heaved my guts up into the toilet. When I was done, he said, "It's all better now, Mommy" and gave me hug. Then, as I stood up, he patted my tummy and said "You be nice to Mommy, Z." I swear that kid knows exactly how to make my heart melt.

Just to prove that Wild Man isn't all sweetness and light: when he isn't rubbing my back while I vomit, he is pretending to vomit in his potty. I have to tell you, it's really painful to laugh and vomit at the same time.

Coming out of the closet

Following yesterday's post on keeping things close to my vest, I've decided to come out of the closet.

I am 12 weeks pregnant.

I feel like I needed to give that one some space to sink in, if not for all my friends in the blogosphere then for me. Yes, I am 12 weeks pregnant, and I am still digesting that information. Whereas it took us about 7 or 8 months (depending on if you ask me or C) of actively trying to conceive Wild Man, we conceived our second child after a five minute conversation that went something like this.

C: I think we should talk about having another baby.

M: Um, are you crazy?

C: Seriously, now is as good a time as any. In fact, if you got pregnant right now, the baby would be born in June, right? We'd both be home the entire summer, which would be great. We wouldn't have to rush back to work. We'd actually have time to get acclimated before the fall semester starts. You'll be finished with your dissertation, and you'd have the baby before you go on the job market. Wild Man will be almost 3. I think it is a great time.

M: Um, are you crazy?

And I really did think that was the end of the conversation. But apparently in the throws of passion, when asked about birth control, I said, "What the hell?" which is, actually, the sort of thing I would say as I assumed it would take work to get pregnant a second time, just as it took some work (not a lot, mind you) to get pregnant the first time. Apparently, it didn't take much work at all.

When my period was late, I thought, "Huh, I guess I could be pregnant, but really, it isn't possible. We always use protection, except for that one time." I waited a few days, and when I said something to C, he said "You're pregnant. Let's go buy a test." So we did, and I took it the next morning, all the while knowing I wasn't pregnant. Well, I was. And this time the experience of taking a pregnancy test was completely different. With Wild Man I woke up early, took the test, waited for the results, and then, when I saw the positive sign, I woke up C and showed him the test. We both cried a little and were so excited. This time I thought I'd try to do the same thing. But while I was taking the test Wild Man woke up and needed to use the potty, so while I was peeing on a stick, Wild Man was peeing in his little potty while C supervised the both of us. The test showed a positive sign within 30 seconds. C smiled and kissed me; I felt a little sick to my stomach. I mean, here's the thing: I feel like we've got the parenting thing down--with one kid. What's going to happen when we throw another kid into the mix? I guess you could say I've been feeling a bit ambivalent about this second pregnancy.

Slowly, I've come to terms with the idea of a second baby. It helped that C named the baby almost immediately, just as he did with Wild Man. Whereas Wild Man was known as the Seedling in utero, our second child has been dubbed Z, as in zygote. I have to hand it to my husband; he is a pretty wonderful guy. He understood my ambivalence completely, and as if to help me through that, he embraced this pregnancy wholeheartedly from the beginning. He immediately began talking to Z. Well before I began experiencing morning sickness (or, rather, all day sickness followed by gut wrenching vomiting that Wild Man now frequently imitates), he stocked up on ginger ale, crackers, club soda, and life savers, all things that helped my nausea when I was carrying Wild Man. He met with all the right people at CU to find out about paternal leave, and he has determined that he will be the one to take that leave rather than me as he will get almost his full salary whereas I'd get peanuts. As he has fallen in love with Z, he's made me see how we can make this work, and he's helped me fall in love with Z too.

So there it is. I will be about 34 weeks pregnant when I defend my dissertation. I will have a 2 month old in tow when I walk across the stage to receive my hood (and I will be getting that hood even if I have to nurse Z while my adviser puts it on me!). Despite my initial ambivalence and all the things we still have to figure out, I feel good about this new journey we're taking. I'm well aware of all the complications of being an academic couple with two children, and I'm well aware how I'm likely to be viewed by my peers when they learn that I have 2 young children. But I know we can do this, and more to the point, I know this is right for us.

*On a side note, I have yet to share any of this information with any faculty members of Southwest College. If you know me in real life, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this information to yourself for the time being.

Keeping things close to my vest

I generally think of myself as an open person. While I'm not the sort of person who rambles off my life story when someone asks me "How are you doing, M?", I am fairly open with close friends and colleagues. Or at least I used to be. I am realizing that since we've moved to CU Land I'm much less open with the details of my life.

To some degree, I feel like I'm constantly on guard here, particularly when I'm on campus. I'm slowly learning that many of my colleagues don't have a lot of tact, so that doesn't necessarily make me want to reveal things about my life to them. Here's an example of a tactless colleague: yesterday, I had a lengthy conversation with one of my office mates, the first one I've had with this person, in fact. She was very pleasant and informative, and she shared a lot of information about CU Land that I didn't know. She is also a grad student, although at CU, and is teaching part-time in the Women's Studies department while she finishes her dissertation. She asked me how I ended up here from Southwest College Town (which is a very reasonable question), and as I explained the circumstances, she said "Well, that's just bad timing, isn't it?" I gave her a "what the hell are you talking about?" and she elaborated. CU has a policy of writing into new hires' contracts that they will hire their partners in X number of years if the partner has completed her dissertation. She then said, "Too bad you weren't finished when your husband went on the market!" I knew all of this, and while I really wanted to say "Thanks for pointing out the obvious and the impossible!" I just changed the subject. We then got on the topic of post-docs, and she asked if I was going to try to apply for one. I explained that most post-docs in my field require the candidate to teach at the institution or to do research at another institution; since we have Wild Man, that really isn't an option for us. To which she replied, "That is just monumentally bad timing, isn't it? Why would you have a baby while working on your doctorate?" And no, my friends, she wasn't joking. She was quite serious. I have no idea how to respond to such questions other than to tell people off (and this didn't seem like the best tactic to take), so I just said "Well, there isn't really a perfect time to have a baby." Thankfully the conversation ended soon after this, but I have had a number of conversations with colleagues who have demonstrated a similar lack of tact--although none have said things about my decision to have a child.

Another reason why I'm playing things close to the vest is the uncertainty of my situation here. I wrote a few days ago that Dr. Feminist was exploring the option of hiring me for a term-appointment, which would eventually become a tenure-track position. Well, largely because of the sucky economy, that is not going to happen this year, and now the department is struggling to find two courses for me. As a result of my uncertain status, I find myself very mindful of what I say to people. I'm much more likely to talk about my teaching or my work than to share stories about Wild Man; in fact, lots of times, I find myself consciously avoiding talking about Wild Man. I feel like I'm trying to cultivate an image of myself that may or may not be true in an effort to have these people take me seriously so that they will give me a job at some point in the future. And while I understand that is all part of "playing the game," I feel like I'm being false, like I'm not being myself, and that bothers me. I'm missing the freedom that comes with being a definite part of the department, and I don't like feeling as though I'm always on display, even if that isn't necessarily true.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving to all our American friends! C, Wild Man, and I will be celebrating with a small dinner on Sunday, as Canadian Thanksgiving is celebrated in October. I have to admit it was a bit odd this morning to get up and go about our usual routine rather than watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and putting a turkey in the oven. This is also the first time in a long time we haven't shared either Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner with our good friends Harrogate, Supadiscomama, and Supadisco-T. We are really missing you, and all of our good friends in Southwest College Town, today. Eat some turkey for us!

Wild Man Earns a Stripe; or, Adventures in Canadian Medicine

As you all know, my son is, well, a bit wild. C and I often describe him as a bull in a china shop. He is not clumsy or awkward, but he is full of energy. That energy is often difficult to contain, and it frequently results in bumps, scrapes, and bruises. Monday night the energy led to more than a bump or a bruise. Monday night I think my Wild Man may have actually earned his stripes.

Monday evening Wild Man helped C organize our recycling and carry it to the curb while I cleaned up the kitchen after dinner. This actually means that Wild Man ran circles around our garage while C organized the recycling. Afterward they took a shower together, which is something that they do a few times a week. It gets them both clean, it saves a bit of time, and it even saves a bit of water. Near the end of the shower, I went and sat in the bathroom, so that I could quickly grab Wild Man up and dry him off. As I got into the bathroom and as C was preparing to turn the water off, Wild Man began picking up his toys. Just as he put his boat in the corner of the tub, he lost his balance (despite standing on a full length bath mat) and fell, hitting his face on the wall of the tub. He has done this many times before; no matter how many times we caution him to be careful or to ask for help in the tub, he often insists on doing things himself, and he occasionally falls. Monday night, however, he hit his face right above his eye, and he cut himself. As C bent to pick him up and hold him, he said "Get a cloth now." My husband is not prone to panic at all, but at that moment, I heard panic in his voice. I quickly grabbed a cloth, gave it to C, and calmly waited for Wild Man to calm down. Within a minute, he had calmed down enough so that C could look at his face. C visibly relaxed as he said, "It is just a cut. I thought he had hurt his eye." I asked if we needed to go to the emergency room, and C answered, "I think so." I wrapped Wild Man in a towel and took him from C. As I held him, I dried him off and tried to look at his eye, which he understandably didn't want me anywhere near. When I was finally able to get a good look, I saw a fairly long gash about half an inch above the crease in Wild Man's eye. It was still bleeding, but it had slowed considerably. I said to C "I'm not sure if they'll do anything, but given the location, I think we should have it looked at." So C got dressed and gathered some things to amuse Wild Man while I dressed him and tried to explain what was going to happen. Wild Man could have cared less to be quite honest. He dutifully held an ice pack against his head while I put his shoes and socks on, but then he asked "Mommy, please read Babar?" I told him we'd read it in the car, as I carried him downstairs.

About 20 minutes after he cut himself, we were standing in the emergency room of the closest hospital. C looked from the crowded room to me and said "Are we sure this is the right thing to do?" I said, "Well, we're here now." The receptionist pointed us to another room, and we quickly realized that this hospital has a separate ER for kids--and it moved much faster than the ER for adults, which was the one we had initially entered. A nurse quickly triaged Wild Man, as I completed the paperwork, and then we sat down to wait. After about 45 minutes, Wild Man's name was called, and we went back to an exam room. Within another 5 minutes a doctor came by, took a brief look at Wild Man, and told us that the cut was superficial and not deep at all. He was, however, concerned about scarring, especially given the location. He recommended stitches, although he admited that they were primarily cosmetic, especially given that the cut was already beginning to scab over. C and I looked at each other briefly before we both agreed. Within another 5 minutes the doctor had returned with a nurse and a med student. The nurse wrapped Wild Man up like a mummy, instructed C to lie across his legs, while she held his head. I put my hands on his face and told him to focus on me, as I began to sing any song I could think of. I also tried my best to keep Wild Man calm and not to cry myself. The doctor, who was seriously lacking in bedside manner, gave Wild Man a shot of lidocaine and then 3 stitches in about 5 minutes, all while methodically explaining every step to the med student. As soon as Wild Man was out of the blanket and in my arms, he calmed down and said "Mommy, that mean doctor!" which made us all laugh. The doctor gave us a few instructions, and we were on our way home. Wild Man was in bed and asleep about 45 minutes after his usual bed time. Yesterday, aside from some fussing when we had to put medicine on his stitches, he was his old self.

I also have to say that our first experience with the Canadian hospital system, which is notoroisly slow, was relatively painless. I'm sure if C or I had been the patient, we would have had to wait much longer, but the nurses seemed especially focused on moving the children through very quickly. While all of us would have preferred not to have had this experience at all, we're quite pleased with the level of care Wild Man received. But C and I are seriously thinking of buying him a helmet to wear at all times. . .

What's in a name?

This morning, as I pulled up MSNBC to check out the headlines in the States, I saw this headline: "It's a boy for Ashlee Simpson." Ordinarily I have no interest in Ashlee Simpson or her husband, but as I do like to read about babies, I clicked on the story and read that they have named their son Bronx Mowgli. So they have followed the celebrity trend of naming their kid after a city, which I sort of get. But Mowgli? He's the main character in Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book, but I daresay the couple is unaware of the colonial implications of the book. In fact, I'm quite certain they named him after the Disney version of the film. I mean, do they love this movie so much that they couldn't resist naming their newborn son Mowgli, a name that he is sure to be ashamed of later in his life?

But here is my real point: do people not think about their children as adults before they name them? Seriously, the odd names I've come across since Wild Man was born (who has what I think is a fairly normal, albeit a bit yuppie, name). We've met an Ayvree (Avery), a Salome, a J'Mikal (Jaymichael), a Brittaneigh (Brittany), a Unique, and a Circe as well as countless other fairly normal names that have been so misspelled that I have been unable to decipher them on my own. While I understand wanting to give your child a name that he won't share with everyone else, I don't understand purposely choosing an unusual name for the sole sake of being unusual.

I really wish people would remember that their children will have this name for the rest of their lives. Naming shouldn't be a joke (why would you name your child Pilot Inspektor, as Jason Lee did?), nor is it a place for a parent to live out his or her childhood fantasies (Nicolas Cage named his son Kal'el, which is Superman's birth name). It also isn't a place to demonstrate your love of history (Gretchen Mol named her son Ptolemy). I say this as someone who seriously considered naming Wild Man "Scout" if he had been a girl; luckily, C convinced me that, my love for To Kill a Mockingbird notwithstanding, it is not a great name to give a little girl. . .

More snow and more writing

That is the gist of my life right now. We're predicted to get intermittent snow squalls for the next three days. For those of you unfamiliar with snow squalls, they are rather like pop-up thunder showers. They can drop several centimeters of snow in an hour, and then they disperse as quickly as they formed. We're also supposed to get real snow overnight, anywhere between 15 and 50 centimeters--or 5 and 20 inches! Wild Man, at least, loves the snow. Every morning as we make our trek from the front door to the garage, which is all of 8 feet, Wild Man manages to high tail it to the nearest pile of snow. He then throws himself into it, sits up, and cackles!

I'm not such a fan of the snow, I have to admit. It is very pretty when it first falls, but it quickly becomes a nuisance! At least it makes for good writing weather, which is what I've been doing all day, every day--when I'm not grading or prepping to teach.

In other news, the chair of my department, Dr. Feminist, is speaking to the powers that be about a term appointment for me, so I may have a one or two-year position as an assistant prof starting next year, which could turn into a tenure-track position.

Stating the obvious

Angelina Jolie has stated the obvious: "Breastfeeding Twins is 'Very Hard.'" For some reason, I find this article (and the many others on the web stating the same thing) very, very annoying. I mean, I just want to say "Duh!" Breastfeeding one baby is hard. Of course nursing twins is harder. But I'm not annoyed by Jolie's statements. In fact, I'm glad she's talking about breastfeeding at all. I'm annoyed by the media's determination to paint her as a "supermom." She is not a supermom. Having 6 children does not make her a supermom. Being Brad Pitt's partner, making lots of money, being able to travel with her 6 children in private plans, with a nanny per child does not make her a supermom. I don't mean to dismiss her abilities as a mom, but the simple fact that Jolie has innumerable resources at her disposable makes her life easier than the average mom's. I also don't think it is advantageous to any woman to perpetuate the myth of the supermom. She is a mother, by all accounts a good mother, but no mother is a "supermom," whatever that means.

Flurries or 25 centimeters

That is what the forecasters are predicting for CU Land today--either flurries or 25 centimeters of snow--for those of you not versed in the metric system, that is 10 inches. That's a big difference. . .

And the holiday drama begins

After unexpectedly dropping $900 yesterday on a new refrigerator, C and I are rethinking our plans to travel over the holidays. We were lucky enough to have the money in our savings account, but now our savings account is essentially depleted. We are also lucky enough to be in an economic position right now that most of my pay check for teaching in CU Land's Women's Studies department can go into the bank. This was just the first month that we hadn't invested most of my check into minor repairs for the house--not to mention winter wardrobes for all three of us. So by this time next month, our savings account will once again be back where it was yesterday, which means we will be able to afford a trip to see our families, theoretically. The issue is that I will not get a paycheck this summer; we will have to live entirely off of C's pay. With at least 2 trips to Southwest College Town planned (1 for me to defend, and 1 for the entire family for my graduation) and 1 conference for me in February, we'd like to have a fair amount of money socked away before my final paycheck arrives on May 1st. To recap, we can afford to go, but we don't know if it is the smartest thing to do.

The moment C and I realized we were going to have to purchase a new refrigerator, we both said maybe we shouldn't travel over the holidays. I was rather stressed out Wednesday evening, and this stressed me out even more. Well, actually, anticipating C's mother's response stressed me out. You see, several months ago we invited all of our family members to CU Land for Christmas. My parents never really responded to the invitation (which isn't unusual, but is also the topic of a different post altogether), and Yetta firmly said she couldn't afford the cost of the ticket. She reasoned with her trip here in October and a trip she's taking next month with friends a second trip here would be too pricey. At the time, I said to C "at some point she will offer to help pay for us to travel to Home State, and that will really annoy me. She can afford to come see us, but she wants us there."

Last night C called his mom to talk, and he, of course, told her about the refrigerator. She was on her way out, so it was a short conversation. She told him she was sorry and that was about it. C naively believed that was the end of the conversation. A little while ago, Yetta called him, and the first question out of her mouth was "Does this mean you won't be able to come home now?" C calmly explained our current rationale, and she calmly listened. She then offered to send us $500--which is at least $200 more than the cost of an airline ticket to CU Land from Home State. C declined, telling her we just want to wait and see. He reminded her that she agreed to a low key holiday anyway, so there isn't any need for us to rush to make a decision. He asked, "any thing that needs to be planned will only involve family, right?" She apparently said "oh, of course, take as much time as you need." But she will ask this question every time they talk until we make a decision.

Since she called (and since we had a similar conversation when she was here) I've been asking myself, "why is this a big deal?" She wants to see us, so she wants to give us money to ensure we're able to make the trip. Why does it bother me so much? Why do I let it irritate me and get me upset? I think I've finally figured out why. As I've said many, many times before, Yetta isn't a bad person. In fact, I really do feel like I have a fairly good relationship with her. But she doesn't often show much respect for our decisions. With this particular situation, there is no recognition that we are adults who are capable of making an informed decision about our own finances. Further, there is never (and, if we ultimately decide not to travel, there won't ever be) any recognition that we are upset by our inability to travel to Home State as often as we'd like. We will only hear about how it will affect her.

I know in the grand scheme of things this is fairly minor, and some may say if we really wanted to see our families over the holidays we'd accept her generous offer. But I'd honestly rather stay in CU Land than take her money. It makes her think she can demand our presence in Home State whenever she wants so long as she foots the bill. It makes it seem as though our relationship with her is based solely on money. And it makes her believe that she always gets what she wants.

Our new refrigerator

So after talking to the salesman at the appliance store several of C's colleagues recommended, I decided not to wait until C got out of class to go look at it. The store only had 2 delivery slots left for tomorrow, and I did not want to live out of a cooler any longer than necessary. Less than 30 minutes after I left C's office, I had purchased our new refrigerator. I feel better knowing the problem has been solved, although I didn't relish spending all that money. And to make me feel even better, I still have some time to get some work done before the end of the day.

The Joys of Home Ownership

Yesterday afternoon, Wild Man and I arrived home to find a big puddle of water in our kitchen right in front of our refrigerator. Wild Man promptly said to me "What happened, Mommy?" I told him I had no idea. I sent him to play in the living room and began investigating after mopping up the puddle. As far as I could tell the contents in the refrigerator were still cold, so I checked out the freezer. Things were partially defrosted, and the compressor was running rather loudly. I quickly pulled everything out of the freezer and carried it all down to the laundry room, where I loaded it into our recently purchased deep freezer (for once, I was thankful my mother-in-law tends to purchase extravagant gifts). I then sent C, who was in a faculty meeting, a text message, and then I called my dad. I asked him if he thought it was worth finding a repair person to check it out. He asked if I knew how old it was and had me describe what was going on. In his best estimation, given the water all over the floor, the compressor had suddenly died, and that, as I well know, is pricey to replace. In the mean time, C sent me a text telling me where the warranty information on the refrigerator was. Luckily our house's previous owners were very well organized and graciously left us the warranty information on all the major appliances that came with the house. It turns out the refrigerator was purchased in 2001, so it is no longer under warranty. And the best I can tell, it only cost $500. Some quick internet searching told me that replacing the compressor could cost at least that much. So I made dinner for Wild Man and me and waited for C to come home so we could discuss our options.

As soon as C got home he stuck his trusty weather monitor (the man is obsessed with the temperature in the house and outside) in the refrigerator to monitor the temperature. By 9:30, it was apparent the refrigerator wasn't working well either as the temperature was sitting right at 53 degrees. So we loaded everything up into our coolers and carried it outside. For the first time all week, I was glad the temperature was in the 30s! C went out to pick up some ice while I finished researching refrigerators. And as soon as C is done teaching, we're heading out to buy a new refrigerator, in the hopes it can be delivered by tomorrow. Oh, the joys of home ownership.

Dirth of blogging

For whatever reason, I haven't been compelled to blog recently--odd, I know, especially since I was blogging almost daily when we first arrived in CU Land. Here are some random updates to let people know that I still exist.

• My students, who are exceptionally bright, are complaining about the amount of work I require of them. Apparently they'd rather turn in a single paper that is worth 70% of their grade than several smaller assignments. I reminded them yesterday that I will not be ammending the syllabus, nor is the class a democracy.
• Wild Man has entered a whiny phase. I think it is part of being two. He whines when he doesn't get what he wants, and he whines when he does. He is seriously testing C's patience, who doesn't deal well with whininess from anyone.
• We have decided to travel South for Christmas, and we will, despite my earlier posts, be with our families on Christmas day. If we go and come back before Christmas, Wild Man will be out of school for 3 weeks. This isn't much of a problem in and of itself. The problem arises when C and I were discussing work schedules. School starts very early in CU Land, and with Wild Man out of school until the day before classes start, we didn't have much time to prep for classes. I also didn't want to sacrifice 3 weeks of work on my dissertation. So we will leave on the 20th and return to CU Land on the 29th or 30th. C has asked his mother to keep things low-key, and she has agreed, at least for now. What comes of the holiday still remains to be seen. We're driving (yes, we're insane), so I will have access to my own car, which will help keep me sane.
• I have 15 pages complete on my third chapter, and if I can stay on track, I will be able to submit a complete draft to my adviser by the 15th of December.
• C refuses to tell me what he wants for Christmas, as does everyone else in the family. I think this may be the year I buy everyone gift certificates.
• Wild Man has his 2-year check up on Monday. He is 34" tall and weights 30 pounds and 12 ounces. He also acquired several freckles over the summer, which he keeps trying to scrub off in the bathtub.

Wild Man in the snow

I've gotten a few requests for these, so I thought I'd post a few. Needless to say, Wild Man really enjoyed last week's snowstorm.

A sudden realization

At some point late last night, in the hazy joy that permeated our home, C and I watched Brian Williams interview Luke Russert, Tim Russert's son. The younger Russert has been reporting on the youth vote for NBC for several weeks now, and as C and I listened intently, I said "This is so awesome--people our age got motivated, got invovled, and made a difference." C looked over at me and said, "Um, M, I hate to tell you, but we're not part of the youth vote any more. We're now in the next category." Oh, yeah, that's right. I'm not in the 18-29 category any more. . . when did that happen?

Going to bed happy

C and I are now going to bed, very, very happy with the election results. I'm so proud to be an American at this moment.

MIgraine!

What a night to have a migraine! Wild Man actually put me to bed at 7:30 (seriously, he lied down beside me in mine and C's bed and rubbed my head until we both fell asleep). I woke up about 20 minutes ago and had to get up to check the early returns. My migraine is better, but frankly, I'm still anxious. It seems like good news, but I don't want to count our chickens before they've hatched, as my grandmother would say.