Wild Man-isms

Here are some of the hilarious and thoughtful things Wild Man has said recently.

• Mommy, I just peed on Daddy.
• What are these, Mommy? (said as he washes his testicles while taking a bath)
• Mommy, where's your penis?
• I have to fart.
• My bum itches.
• The moon looks tired, Daddy.
• I need a break.
• Here, Mommy, I rub your belly for you.
• Mommy, does your back hurt? I get some medicine for you.

Holy Crap! Students can be so stupid!

I'm currently sitting in C's office trying to grade, and he keeps interrupting me to ask various questions about Turnitin.com. He's never used it before this semester, so he's a bit confused. He is trying to understand the whole report system. One report indicates that the paper is 60% plagiarized. He asked me to help he decipher the report, which I did (for those of you not familiar with Turnitin.com, it recognizes sources, but it doesn't recognize formatting. Therefore, just b/c Turnitin.com says a paper is plagiarized doesn't necessarily mean it is, as it doesn't recognize quotation marks, footnotes, or parenthetical citations).

I looked at the paper for him and explained the various color coding (each source that the student may have copied from is given its own color). This paper is clearly plagairized, as it contains entire paragraphs copied from other sources. So C started the process of printing stuff off, and then he decided to download the paper as a word document to compare that version to Turnitin.com's report. All of a sudden, I heard C utter a string of four-letter words--some words he hasn't said in a long time. Then he said, through gritted teeth, "You have to look at this." I walked over to his computer and just started laughing. Instead of typing names and words, like Raphael and chiara, the student literally cut and pasted them from Wikipedia and various online dictionaries. When the student did this, he forgot to remove the hyperlinks, so all C had to do was click on the highlighted word (in a Word document) to get to the source where the kid took the word and corresponding passage from. C is pissed, but, frankly, I'm rather amused!

I have no idea what to make of this

For the fourth or fifth time in about a week or so, C and I have run into someone on campus with whom he has had lots of contact but I've never met. Each time he introduces me, and the person, who is almost always a tenured professor at CU, proceeds to ask about my work. I answer, giving my standard ten-second answer describing my dissertation: "I'm writing on 19th-century American women writers and their conceptions and representations of space." The conversation generally moves to the summer and if we're traveling, at which point I say no. C, inevitably, says, very pointedly, "But M will be traveling to Southwest College Town in early May to defend her dissertation." Now, C is saying this primarily for two reasons: 1) he's proud of me, and 2) he wants everyone at CU to know that I am defending, as he thinks it will help us make a case that I should be hired. I have no problem with him pointing this out. I am unsure what to make of people's responses though. The general response has been: "Oh, oh! I didn't realize that was happening so soon. . ." Then the person looks quizzically at me and promptly changes the subject.

This happened again this morning, again for about the fourth time in a week. I have no idea what to make of these statements, and I'm beginning to wonder if I should be offended by this common reaction.

Progress: Wharton

I spent the weekend and this morning reading over my adviser's comments on my Wharton chapter as well as reading several key spatial theorists. I then proceeded to try to write a new introduction. I just reread it, and it doesn't work. For those who know The House of Mirth, you are familiar with the opening scene, which positions Lily, the main character, in Grand Central Station. In a lot of ways, this is the best scene for me to begin with the chapter with, but as almost every critical essay on the novel begins with this scene, I wanted to try open the chapter with a different scene. I had it worked out in my head why beginning with the scene in which Lily is confronted by Gus Trenor would work. She moves through a series of transitional spaces, ultimately ending up in Trenor's den. She loses power as she moves through each space, finally regaining power by uttering a single sentence which reminds Trenor of their positions in society. For some reason, though, it isn't working, although now that I've typed that, I may give it another go in the morning. . .

Family of Three

After a morning in which C, Wild Man, and I have sung the entire soundtrack to Beauty and the Beast, fed Gloria the hippo, and chased the cats, as well as snuggled a fair amount, I find myself a little sad that our days as a family of three are limited.

"The case against breast-feeding"

I just posted on this topic at The Rhetorical Situation, including a link to an interview with Hanna Rosin, who wrote an article in this month's The Atlantic under this title, and Dr. Nancy Snyderman, which appeared on the Today Show. But I think it is worth reposting the link to the article and the interview, as I reach a somewhat different audience at Separation of Spheres.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

A little reward

As a reward for all the hard work I've been doing lately, I took myself shopping this morning. In addition to getting Wild Man some shorts in anticipation of summer, which I am not convinced will ever occur in CU Land, I also bought myself a dress. I've wanted this particular maxi dress since I first saw it in the store, and I finally decided to buy it. To top it off, I had a 30% coupon , so my entire purchase, which included 3 shirts and 1 pair of shorts for Wild Man, 2 pairs of leggings (size 3 to 6 months) for Z, and my dress came to $40. C was mightily impressed.

Defense Date!

I have been given the go ahead to schedule my defense. Excuse me while I do a happy dance around the room!

Two down

I just sent my second fully revised chapter. Wharton, here I come.

The Joys of Motherhood

I've been thinking about what it means to be a mother a lot lately. Part of this stems from the fact that I am a mother, and I am about to become the mother of two. But it mostly stems from the media's obsession with celebrity mothers. I confess, I am no different. I love looking at pictures of babies and children, and I am quite happy to collude in the media's infringement upon celebrities' privacy by looking at pictures of Gwen Stefani and her boys or Heidi Klum and her brood.

Lately, though, I've noticed something that I bothers me, as a mother, a woman, and an academic. Many, many celebrity mothers are commenting that they've never been more fulfilled in their lives since they became mothers. They are overwhelmed by the love they feel for their children and feel more satisfied by motherhood than anything they've done professionally. Halle Berry and Michelle Monaghan are two examples of celebrity moms who have recently waxed poetic about motherhood.

On some level, I get what these women (and celebrity moms are by no means the only moms to express such feelings) are saying. I love Wild Man in a way that I have never loved another person. The love I feel for him is vastly different from the love I feel for C. I also take great pride and pleasure in my role as his mom. I love being with him, and I thoroughly enjoy watching him grow up and become his own person. In fact, my favorite thing about being a mom is watching him learn and grow and change, things that I often have very little to do with. That said, I find this tendency, which is so often exhibited by celebrity moms, to wax poetic about how profound and changing a mother's love can be a little disturbing. For me, it promotes the message (as do sites like People's Celebrity Baby Blog) that all women inherently desire to be mothers. Such stories tacitly remind women that they are, indeed, unfulfilled as women until they become mothers, and that really bothers me.

It bothers me because so many women become so wrapped up in what a mother is "supposed" to be that they forget who they are or who they want to be. My own mother had a huge crisis of identity when my sister and I moved out. She, a woman who had worked outside the home for years, had several hobbies, and a great relationship with my dad, didn't know what to do when she didn't have to be someone's "Mom" every single day. She became depressed and completely withdrew from life. She finally went to therapy and is now in a great place, but she has acheived that sense of calm, in part, because my brother still lives at home and likely will for the rest of his life (my brother is deaf, and while he is fully able to live on his own, he depends so much on my mom--and she on him--that he will likely never move out). She "mothers" him every day, so she has maintained the part of her identity that she feared losing.

It seems that the idea that nothing is so fulfilling as motherhood only perpetuates these kinds of identity-crises that many, many women experience. I wish we could revise this perception of motherhood a bit. Again, I find motherhood fulfilling--more fulfilling than lots of things I do--but I also find it hard, frustrating, tedious, and, dare I say it, at times boring. I find more work as fulfilling as motherhood, but I find it fulfilling in a completely different way. I wish more women would say just that: motherhood fulfills one part of me, but it does not complete me, any more than my work completes me. Both make me a more complete person, but neither mothering nor my work makes up the total of me.

Here is another unrelated, but tangential thought that has been running through my head.

A few years ago, author Ayelet Waldman appeared on Oprah, and she stated that she loved her husband more than she loved her four children. Waldman was publicly chastised for being a bad mother and recieved death threats for making these statements. Clearly, she was a "bad mother" because she loved someone more than her children. I was not a mother when Waldman made these statements, but even then, I felt that I understood them. I have since made similar statements to my family and friends, and most seem a bit taken aback until I explain myself. As I just said, I love Wild Man in a way that I do not love C, and I know I will love Z in a similar way. But, in a way, I love C more than I love Wild Man and more than I will love Z. Here's why: I see my time with Wild Man and Z as fixed, as finite, in some strange way. Yes, I will always be there mother and I will definitely always be there for them in every way possible, but they will not always need or want me to be a daily part of their lives. I firmly believe my primary job as a mom is to help my children be the best people they can be, and then, I have to let them go and discover the world for themselves. I want to be in my life forever, but I don't want them to be the center of my life forever. I think that is unhealthy and wouldn't allow them to be their own people on their own terms.

In contrast, I do plan to have C in my life forever. He and I have willingly joined our lives, and I am committed to sustaining this relationship for the long haul. By saying I love him more than my children, I am saying that this is the relationship that I value the most in my life. At some point, our kids are going to grow up and leave us, and at that moment, I don't want to look across the table and wonder "Who the hell is this person?" I figure I have 18 or 20 years with Wild Man and Z; I want to have a lifetime with C. For that to happen, I have to put our relationship first, and I think our kids will recognize and, ultimately, appreciate that.

More progress

I have officially sent my first chapter to my entire committee!

Today I am reading through my second chapter (which is the one I just finished a few weeks ago) to correct typos, fix footnotes, and some other minor revisions before sending it off as well.

Friday, I turn to Wharton, and I am determined not to become consumed by her! I want to have that chapter done as quickly as possible so I can begin a draft of an introduction soon. I have lots of notes for this, so I'm hoping it won't prove too daunting. Somewhere in the middle of all of that I have to get my committee to agree on a defense date and buy a ticket to Southwest College Town.

C asked me last night if I was excited about defending. I said, "I still don't believe it is going to happen. I probably won't believe it until after I have defended."

Thank you, Heidi Klum

Recently, I've been mentally writing a post on all the celebrity mothers who declare that motherhood is the best thing they've ever done and how it fulfills them in a way that nothing else ever has. Most then go on to comment that like all working mothers, they struggle to balance work with home life. I have lots and lots of thoughts on this, none I want to go into right now, as I'd the post to be thoughtful and not a rant. While taking a break from revising, I ran across this article on People.com in which Heidi Klum makes me like her more than any other celebrity mom out there. Yes, she recognizes that working and being a mom is about juggling the various aspects of her life, but the final sentence of the article is what makes me like her: "Although Heidi happily takes on the responsibilities of motherhood, she believes her ability to juggle a family with a career, as a celebrity, is nothing to brag about. 'I don’t have the hard everyday life that so many working mother’s face.'”

So, thank you, Heidi, for recognizing that you aren't like the average working mom and that your position as a celebrity actually makes it easier for you to do many of the things working moms do.

Progress

I just received a wonderful email from my adviser, telling me the last chapter that I sent to her is in "great shape and very polished." She wants me to fix a few minor things and send it, along with the chapter I spent the last 2 weeks revising, to my committee as soon as possible. Once I've done that, we can start the process of setting a defense date. All of this means that my goal is in sight. I have lots of long days ahead of me as once I send these two chapters off I have to begin the arduous task of revising my Wharton chapter. Wharton scares me because I know I can become overwhelmed by Wharton. But I have a plan. I'm going to read very careful everything I've written and all my advisers comments. Then I'm going to develop a thorough outline and get to work. I'm behind the schedule that is on the side of my blog, but frankly, I'm not changing it b/c it is still motivating me.

Oh, and given my current situation (i.e., 5 1/2 months pregnant), my adviser is telling my committee I can do the final revision after I defend!

Three questions I'm trying to not get irritated over. . .

1. "Are you sure the baby is a girl?"--Nope, and we won't be sure until Z is born and doesn't have male genitalia.

2. "What will you do if the baby is a boy?"--Um, I don't know, maybe name him, take him home, and love him just as much as we would if he were a girl.

3. "Won't you be disappointed if the baby is a boy?"--No! I mean, sure, we've thought about a girl and we've talked about a girl, so on some level, we're prepared for a girl. But if Z turns out to be a boy, I will absolutely thrilled.

I'll give you three guess who has been asking these annoying questions, and I bet most of you only need one.

Academic Mothering

At the conference I attended this past weekend, I went to a panel titled "The Maternal Wall and Strategies of Resistance and Empowerment for Mothers in Academe." Since then, I've been thinking about what it means to be an academic mother (or an academic father) for that matter a lot (as an aside, this is something I think about fairly often given the fact that I am an academic and a mother). One paper in particular resonated with me, and I'm going to attempt to distill the paper's argument.

The paper, which was entitled "Knowing When to Pretend and When to Refuse: Exploring the Complex Struggle of Pretending and Refusing to be an Ideal Academic Worker," argued that academic mothers have to stop pretending to be ideal workers. We have to know when to play the game (i.e., to present ourselves as ideal workers) and when to not play the game. One way this presenter does this is that she refuses to pretend that the familial sacrifices she makes aren't difficult. She also invokes her status as a mother when she simply cannot do something that a colleague needs (or perhaps demands) that she do. That this is a woman who works at a major Northeast research institution made her argument more significant for me. What she said made a lot of sense, and she even extended her argument to academic fathers, arguing that men also have to stop pretending.

But as she presented her paper, I had a nagging question that was making me a bit sick to my stomach. In a room full of academic women, many of whom were grad students, I was not the only one who wondered, "how does this theory work when one is on the job market?" After all, I've been told over and over again to keep my "private" life private when I'm on the market. I have assumed I would not mention my husband or my children until I have a job offer in hand. And this is the precise advice that this presenter gave when several of us asked this question. Then I thought, ok, so I have to pretend to get the job, which is just what I figured.

Then a woman raised her hand and said "I did just that, and it had disastrous consequences." This woman said she never mentioned being married or having a young child until she arrived on campus the summer before she was scheduled to begin teaching. When her colleagues discovered she had a family, several, particularly those on the search committee, became hostile, and more than one shunned her. When the woman said she couldn't attend meetings after 4:00 because of her son, her department chair told her that if he'd known she had a young child he would never have offered her the job. So, here is a woman, who played the interview game correctly, secured the job, and then was treated like a pariah by her department because they felt she'd "betrayed" them in the interview process by not divulging the secrets of her personal life. Needless to say, this story made my nausea return.

Several other women (and the only man who attended the panel) pointed out that it may be more advantageous to be honest during the course of an interview about one's marital and family status, if only to avoid taking a job in an environment that isn't family friendly. And while this makes a lot of sense to me, I'm still not sure I want to tell people "Hey, just so you know, my husband is an academic, and I have two young kids. If you don't like me for those reasons, you probably shouldn't offer me the job." I left the panel still unsure how to handle this situation, should I ever experience it first hand.

As many women at the panel, a lot of whom were tenured profs with children at large research universities, panel pointed out, this is an institutional problem. In fact, as many described situations in which their deans denied their maternity leave, I never felt happier to be living outside the U.S. But, while this is an institutional problem, it is also a problem that I (and many, many of my good friends) am likely to face personally sooner rather than later. I want an academic job, of that I have never been more sure in my entire graduate career. In fact, I have fallen more in love with my topic, with writing, and with research in the last few months. I am excited both to teach and to research, but I also want to have a life outside of academia. I want a job that offers me research support AND that gives me room to be a wife and a mother. I'm not naive enough to think I "can have it all," as I know that I will often have to sacrifice academic progress to be with my family and vice versa. I know it is possible to do this because I know lots of women who do it, my adviser included. What I want to know is why does it continue to be so damn hard for both academic mothers and fathers.

My weekend away, and my baby is growing up

My weekend away went much better than I expected, especially given the fact that I did not want to go at all. In fact, I cried when I left because I really just wanted to stay home with C and Wild Man. In the end, I did enjoy myself. I attended some really great panels, including one on academic mothers that left me simultaneously excited and depressed. My own panel, which I had organized, went surprisingly well. I say surprisingly because it was scheduled at 8:30 on Sunday morning, the last day of the conference and the next to last panel. I was expecting no one to show up, which would have been fine b/c then I could have just chatted with my fellow panelists, who were very smart and offered some great suggestions for my paper. We had, however, about 16 people in the audience, and as no one went over time, we had 30 minutes for discussion. It was the best panel I've ever been a part of.

C and Wild Man had a relatively uneventful weekend with Yetta and Pita. There were no major melt-downs had by anyone, and Wild Man really enjoyed his time with his aunt, as he always does. C did, as I expected, get frustrated by Yetta and Pita's obsession with food, but there isn't much to be done about that. I arrived home to find my freezer and pantry stocked with all sorts of essentials, courtesy of Yetta, as well as a few things we will never eat that she determined were essential (pre-packaged cupcakes are, in fact, not essential for my life!). She also very generously bought Wild Man a mattress for the twin size bed that C and I recently bought him. She apparently spent quite a bit of money on all of us, despite C telling her that we're well able to buy these things ourselves. She finally told him to shut up and let her do it as she feels guilty for how much she does on a daily basis for his brother and his kids. So C shut up.

And last night, Wild Man slept in his "big boy" bed for the first time. Both Yetta and Pita wanted him to sleep in it while they were here, but C, who wanted to wait for me to get home, said Wild Man needed a bed rail first (which he did). I'm so glad he put them off and waited for me before he let Wild Man sleep in it the first time. I am happy I was here to mark that milestone with Wild Man. As it was, I cried as soon as I left his bedroom. If I hadn't been here the first time he slept in it, I know I would have cried more. C, who was experiencing the same sense of sadness and pride, said, "Our boy wears underwear, pees in the potty (mostly), and no longer sleep in his crib. He is definitely growing up. He isn't a baby anymore." Then, C leaned over and kissed my growing bump and said, "It's good we have another one on the way."

Jstor. . .

is really annoying. I just had to share that.

I am . . .

very happy to be home with my boys. For the moment that says it all.

Warning

The following was written by a cranky, tired, dissertating, pregnant woman.

I am so tired of hearing the following two questions/comments, and I'm only half way through my pregnancy. As I recall, I was annoyed by these same questions/comments when I was carrying Wild Man.

1. How are you feeling?
2. You're how far along? You look great!

The first question annoys me just because it seems like the only thing people can think to ask me. This time around I'm inclined to say something along the lines of "Well, I've got to have a complete draft of my dissertation finished in 7 weeks. I'm a bit stressed out, but thanks for asking." I know, however, that isn't what most people are asking about.

The second question/comment annoys me because it always strikes me as a back-handed sort of compliment. I always want to say "Thanks, but did you expect me to look awful?"

And, as I know I'm likely to get comments on the people's good intentions when they make these sorts of comments, I know people don't intend for me to respond as I do to these comments. Most people make these comments out of interest and concern, which I way I never respond how I want to. I just wish I didn't find the comments so annoying.

Random Updates

Life is a bit crazy in my house as of late. Here are some things that are going on and random thoughts that I can't seem to get out of my head.

• I will be out of town this weekend, leaving C and Wild Man on their own for 2-plus days. Well, not exactly on their own; Yetta and Pita are flying in "to help out" as Yetta puts it. Ordinarily I would be worried about this for various reasons I've discussed here before, but right now I'm not. I won't be here, so I won't be in control. And I'm mostly ok with that.
• I'm tired of winter. I mean really and truly tired of winter.
• We bought Wild Man new, used furniture this weekend. I found it on the Canadian equivalent of Craig's List, and it is solid wood furniture. We do need to refinish it, but C doesn't think that is too much of an undertaking as it only has a clear finish on it. It was a steal too, considering it is birch and includes 3 pieces. Wild Man can't wait to sleep in it, but we have to get a mattress first.
• I'm really worried that I won't be able to finish everything I still need to do in order to defend my dissertation before I can no longer travel. I know I could easily finish well before the deadline to file if I didn't have travel restrictions. As it is, I've convinced my midwife to let me travel as late as 36 weeks into my pregnancy, something C is not at all comfortable with.
  
• C is going out of town in early-April, and rather than stress out about how I'm going to manage Wild Man alone for 4 days at the beginning of my third trimester, I asked my sister to drive up and spend the weekend with me. Now that she is so close, I figured, what the hell? I can, of course, manage on my own, but frankly, C always gets help, so why shouldn't I? She wants to bring her kids with her, so she's trying to work out an agreement with her ex-husband (he has to give her written permission to take them out of the country). Barring any unforeseen events, they are coming. Wild Man will be thrilled to see his cousins, and I will be happy to have the company.
• Yetta is already asking about our plans for Christmas 2010. Note: this is not a typo. We've already told her that we have no plans to travel this holiday season as I will be on the job market. We're hoping I will, in fact, be at MLA immediately following Christmas. As Z will still be nursing a fair amount by then (I'm hoping at least) and as several of our closest friends will be there, we're planning a family trip out of it. She knows this, so she is already planning for Christmas 2010 when she "can have her entire family together for the first time in who knows how long." Yes, that is a direct quotation.
  
• My dad still has not gotten a passport despite the fact that I've asked him specifically to do so at least 5 times. He just doesn't seem to get that I live in a different country. I'm under no illusions that my dad is just going to randomly decide to visit, not even to see Z after she's born. But, as I've said to him, without a passport he can't even come to CU Land in the event of a medical emergency. His refusal to travel really hurts my feelings--a lot.
• My mom recently purchased a ticket to fly directly in to CU Land four days before Z's due date. She has also said that if I go over my due date she will extend the time she is planning to stay so she can help out with Wild Man. My mom is in a much better place than she was when Wild Man was born, so I'm excited. In fact, she even recently apologized for how little help she was at that time. She is also practicing using her GPS system so that she can take Wild Man to school if need by. That she is doing this means so much to me. My mom has a huge phobia of driving in places she doesn't know. We've had big fights about this in the past b/c her fear of driving has often meant that we have to ask Yetta to come help when one of us is out of town rather than her. She is working to overcome this phobia in order to help us out, and that tells me how much she cares about us.
• My sister is planning to get in her car and drive to CU Land the minute we tell her I'm in labor. Since she's the closest relative, she happily offered to do this for us. She came for five days after Wild Man was born and was so helpful. I really needed someone to take over so I could focus on Wild Man. Her presence was especially helpful given that C ended up flying to Home State 3 days after Wild Man was born to attend his dad's funeral. He wouldn't have done that if Sis hadn't been with me, and I know he would have regretted missing his dad's funeral. Sis has asked me what I want her to do, and I've told her to do just what she did after Wild Man's birth: run the show and let us focus on the baby. My Sis and I often disagree about a lot of things, so I know she feels special that I valued her help and want it again.
• I need to read 100+ pages in order to teach Thursday, but I'm really wondering if I can just wing it, since I've read the book before. Does that make me a bad teacher?
• C and I need more time alone together.
• I need more time to myself, and I seriously need to find some ladies to go out on the town with.

It isn't that cold in our house

Wild Man and Baby Z

In the past few days, Wild Man has become increasingly interested in Z and my belly. A few nights ago, he requested to see "Mommy's big belly." He then said "I kiss belly. I kiss Baby Z." For some reason he had to "clean Mommy's big belly" before he could give it a big hug.

*Keeping with my agreement with C, these photos were only up for a few days.

Staking her claim

Last week, C and I made our first big purchase for Z. We bought a Moses basket and a rocker for it. We're planning to use it as a bassinet when Z is first born as she will be sleeping in our room. We chose this over a pack and play (although we will be using the one we purchased for Wild Man in the living room) or a co-sleeper because it is smaller. Our room isn't very large, and the Moses basket will take up minimal room while giving Z a space of her own to sleep.

Since we purchased it, it has been sitting in a corner of my office, with its freshly washed bedding just lying inside of it. This morning one of our cats decided it makes the perfect spot for a rest. It seems that she has claimed it for herself, and we must now begin the arduous task of teaching her to stay out of it.

Revising my approach

After Jennie's thoughtful comments to yesterday's post about my anger toward my mother-in-law as well as a conversation with C last night, I've decided to revise my approach to my relationship with Yetta. As Jennie said, I want my husband and my son to have a healthy relationship with Yetta, one that has nothing to do with me and my often difficult relationship with her. I don't want my feelings to affect their view of her, and I definitely do not want to become between them. The bottom line is she does love them very much, and she will love Z very much as well. I even believe that she cares a lot for me, and in spite of all my anger, I care a great deal for her. So here is my new approach:

• I will stop avoiding conversations with her; I will talk to her when she calls instead of immediately passing the phone off to C.
• I will be open-minded and understanding about her feelings regarding our inability to visit more often and how far away we live.
• I will not take any comments she makes about my family, specifically my mother, to heart; her view of my family does not influence my or my son's relationship with them.
• I will not allow her to pit C and I against each other.
• I will earnestly try not to put C in a position to choose between our family and his natal family.
  
• I will try to accommodate all of her reasonable requests.
• I will remember that I will likely be a mother-in-law myself one day, and I will use my relationship with Yetta as a model for how not to treat my adult children and their partners.
• I will no longer let her attitude or her comments ruin visits to Home State. When we visit and she says inappropriate things, I will simply not respond or I will leave the room.

Ok, that feels like a good beginning. As I said to C last night, this will be hard for me. It helped that he told me that he can't understand why my relationship with his mom has changed so drastically and that he can't think of anything I've done, other than just being me, that could have incurred her anger. I felt better having him validate those feelings. While I do want to improve my relationship with her, I'm beginning to understand that just might not be possible. I have to figure out some way to get along with her though, for the sake of my husband and my children. And I can do that.

Holy Crap!

I did it. I finished a complete draft of my second chapter. And, quite frankly, I think it is pretty damn good. I do know I will need to do some revisions, especially in the introduction, but for now, I can give it a quick proofread (well, as quick as I can manage for 70+ pages) and send it to my adviser. With any luck, I can manage to revise my first chapter in a week and get myself back on schedule. I may be able to defend before I can no longer travel!

Getting over anger

Apparently this is the morning for using my blog to vent.

C made a fairly reasonable request of me last night, but one that I'm struggling to figure out how to address. He asked that I figure out some way to get over my recent and (at times) almost all-consuming anger at his mother. He recognized that I am, mostly, fully justified in my anger, but he said it makes it difficult on him. I know this, and I have repeatedly apologized to him for my current state of mind regarding his mother. But I also freely admit I have made no attempt to get past my anger, and if anything, my anger has grown.

Why am I so angry at Yetta? It's long and complex. The reasons include the typical ones most daughters-in-law site for being angry with their mothers-in-law. She is overbearing, intrusive, self-centered, and manipulative. She often says things without thinking that are hurtful, spiteful, and downright mean. She almost never apologizes, and if she does, it is typically in a back handed way that lets me know that she is insincere. I've dealt with this for years, and while these things are a source of irritation, I can handle them. What I really resent is the fact that she has recently lied directly to me and has begun saying negative things about me to C. For his part, C does tell her that he doesn't want to hear any of these negative things and that her comments are completely inappropriate. She, however, continues with the comments after a short respite. Frankly, I can also deal with this; I mean, really, whatever, she can think whatever she wants to think about me, or at least usually. She has, however, begun espousing an opinion that I find completely intolerable as it insults me, my parents, my upbringing, and whatever semblance of a relationship I have with her.

She has said, repeatedly, in the past year, that my family and I do not seem to value family as much as she does (to be fair, she says the exact same thing about my sister-in-law, C's brother's wife). She is so sure of this, in fact, that she has rearranged her finances to ensure that neither J, my SIL, or I will ever have to take care of her in her old age. I can tolerate this sort of thing when she says it to C, although it does piss me off. But I reason as long as she doesn't say it to me, I'm not going to worry about it as I don't really have to respond. During our visit at Christmas, though, she made this very statement to me. She then added that she resented that I put my family before her and that I am not appropriately thankful for all she does. Oh, and then she said, my parents never include her in anything and that she knows I say awful things to my mother about her all the time. She then claimed to have never said anything negative about me to anyone. These statements were made in the course of what I thought was going to be a productive conversation between just the two of us, a conversation that was initiated by something she said that made C so angry he left the room and refused to come back for the remainder of the evening (as an aside, I tried to retreat with him, but he was so angry he wanted to be alone for fear he would say something mean to me. His mom's house is small; I had no choice but to hang out in the kitchen alone with her until C calmed down.).

Truth be told, the conversation started off well. She talked, I listened, primarily b/c she was trying to understand C's anger at her very ignorant comment and I wasn't about to try to explain her son to her. Then she started making these comments about me and my family. And frankly, I lost it. I did manage to not sound angry, but I responded to every single comment--even telling her that, in fact, I do know almost every negative thing she has ever said about me b/c C tells me about many of the comments. She didn't even respond to most of the things I said, which included the fact that my parents no longer invite her over to their home b/c they don't like entertaining and b/c she has refused their invitations so many times they no longer see the point in ever offering. After I made my points, the conversation went elsewhere, and I eventually excused myself and went to bed, believing that perhaps we had actually started to understand each other. It seems I was wrong.

Recently her comments about me and my "hatred" of family have become increasingly more frequent, so frequent in fact that she has two visits planned in the next few months but has made it very clear that she will be coming when I'm out of town so as "not to interfere with my work schedule." C has said he thinks this is thoughtful, but I told him that is her passive agressive way of reminding me that she's still pissed at me for saying that extended family isn't a priority right now b/c I've got to finish my dissertation. And so, my anger increases, and I inadvertently take it out on C. I've got to find a way to deal with it, a way that doesn't include talking to my mother-in-law because, frankly, I've tried it before and it doesn't work. I've tried changing my behavior, and that also doesn't work. I had hoped that writing about it here would help, but alas, I'm just pissed all over again. I really, really want to like this woman b/c she is my husband's mother. She loves Wild Man dearly, and I know she will feel the same about Z. I want to have a healthy relationship with her b/c I don't want to dread every single visit we make to her house. But I honestly have no idea how to accomplish that.

The oddities of Facebook

So after years of resisting, I joined Facebook this fall. I confess I did it mainly because I had lost the email address of one of my dearest, lifelong friends (this person was my maid of honor and we've been friends since we were 8), and I knew she was on FB. I expected to use FB to find her and that would be that. Well lo and behold, a lot of my friends from Southwest College Town are also on FB, and using FB has become a great way to keep in touch with them. I've also found it extremely useful to communicate with several of these friends who are also completing their dissertations from afar. We've become one another's support group so to speak.

I've also some how managed to reconnect with a bunch of people from high school. I have to admit that I find this odd. I did not enjoy high school. My reasons for not enjoying high school are complex and difficult to explain; suffice to say, they go beyond the typical reasons. I was fairly popular and had lots of friends; I was never ostracized or mistreated by those who were more popular, nor did I mistreat others in return. In a nutshell, I lost a lot of friends in my senior year, people who had claimed to be among my best friends, because I did not attend church, did not consider myself a Christian, and had a close relationship with a teacher who had us read things that challenged the beliefs of many of my peers (apparently most high schoolers don't read Joseph Campbell's The Power of Myth or talk about the "Christian myth"). While I'm happy to reconnect with some people from high school, I find it utterly amazing that people whom I rarely spoke with in high school or the very individuals who cut me out of their lives because of the above described situation have now asked to be my FB friend. I have no idea how to respond to this. I am, I think, a very, very loyal friend, but I don't respond to betrayal of any kind well. I also really dislike hypocrisy and can hold a grudge. I truly don't understand why some of these individuals want to know what is going on in my life some 16 years after high school ended, especially when they wanted to have little or nothing to do with me while we were in high school. I just don't get it. I mostly ignore these requests, but then, for some crazy reason, I feel guilty. I honestly think these people are just trying to amass friends so they can feel popular again. So while I like FB for lots of reasons, in some ways, it reminds me of high school all over again. And I definitely don't like that.

Giving birth in Canada

After our appointment with my midwife this week, C and I have finally begun to grasp just how different our birth experience with Z will be from the one we had with Wild Man. As I have said many times, I experienced a number of medical interventions with Wild man, but given the circumstances of the birth, I really think all the interventions were necessary. Further, I had as close to the birth experience as I could have hoped for given the distress that Wild Man was in throughout labor. I have never felt unsatisfied or unhappy with our experience in anyway. In fact, I have always felt very glad I had such a great nurse who advocated so strongly for me and helped ensure I was able to have an unmedicated, vaginal birth.

Despite that, we've recently been considering a home birth for a lot of reasons. For me, I was primarily concerned about the amount of rest I would get in the hospital. With Wild Man, I managed to get some, but I still left the hospital exhausted, as did C, who was able to stay with me because we were given a birthing suite (we got this because the maternity floor was packed, and it was the only room available; I'm assuming the couch in the room made it a suite!). From what my friends have told me, private rooms in Canada are rare and come at a very high premium (about $250 or more a night). C has, however, declared that I get a room at any expense (we're paying nothing out of pocket for my prenatal care or for Z's birth; that's the benefit of socialized insurance), assuming there are any available after I give birth. If there are none available, I will be sharing a room with 3 other women. I don't mind sharing, but it doesn't seem conducive to rest at all. Giving birth at home seems much more restful to me.

On Wednesday, we asked my midwife about home birth, and she answered a few basic questions. When I expressed the above to her, she said, "Well, there is another option. Since you're under a midwife's care, you can actually leave the hospital as soon as 3 hours after you give birth (asuming, of course, it is a normal, uneventful birth and she has no concerns for me or the baby)." C and I must have looked completely flabbergasted because she went on to explain that the reason for this is the after care Z and I will receive with her. She will visit us at our home 24 hours after Z is born, and at least 2 more times in the first week. If she needs to come more she will. I will then see her in her office at 2, 4, & 6 weeks after giving birth; she will also give Z check-ups. Women using OBs don't have this option because they, typically, don't see their doctors until 6 weeks post-partum. After she then explained this, I was still puzzled, so I asked "Do you mean that the baby isn't sent to the nursery for tests?" It was her turn to look flabbergasted. She said, "No, as long as there are no complications, you will have the baby with you at all times." I know I still looked puzzled because she then said, "We don't have nurseries in our province; we only have NICUS. As long as babies are healthy, they are with their moms the entire time." She then asked about our experience in the States. When we explained that Wild Man had been in the nursery for at least 3 hours following the birth (we were allowed to have him with us for almost an hour), she looked aghast. She actually checked my chart to remind herself when I had given birth. She asked "You mean this practice was still going on in 2006?" C laughed and said that our experience was fairly typical, at least for our state. I told her what she described is very similar to a what I've read about birthing center births, not about hospital births. Needless to say, C and I left her office feel very reassured about the sort of hospital birth we will likely have, and unless we can get a private room, we will likely leave the hospital as soon as we can--provided that I don't give birth in the middle of the night. Then I think we'd stay just so we wouldn't wake up Wild Man with our arrival home.

We did discuss the option of home birth for a while on Thursday, but we have one major obstacle: what do we do with Wild Man? My mom will be here about 4 days before Z's due date, but I fully realize Z could come much earlier. My sister, who lives about 6 hours away, has offered to get on the road as soon as I go into labor so she can be with Wild Man, but given how fast my first labor went (just under 5 hours), there is no guarantee she'll be here in time. I really don't want Wild Man to be around when I've giving birth, and I especially don't want him in the house. With a hopsital birth, we will have to make arrangements with our friends to watch him, but neither of us will have to worry about his presence in the house. Given everything we'd just learned about a hospital birth in Canada, we think it seems like the right option for us, so I am fairly certain that is what we will do. I am feeling very excited about this birth and the fact that we will have Z with us at all times.

Weekly Progress Update

For some odd reason, putting these updates makes me feel accountable, so I'll keep doing it. Here's the run down for this week.

Monday: I get minimal done on most Mondays as Wild Man is home with me. I did get some major revisions completed and sent the first half of the chapter off to my adviser.

Tuesday: 6 pages written

Wednesday: 3 pages written, coupled with a visit to the midwife and various other errands that had to be done

Thursday: no progress on the dissertation due to teaching responsibilities

Friday: 5 pages; notes taken on Foucault's Discipline and Punish; as a plus, I also wrote the section of the chapter that includes references to this.

I'm feeling very jazzed about this next section; in fact, I'd love to churn out another 3 or 4 pages tonight, leaving me only the conclusion of the chapter to write. I'm seriously considering heading out this evening after dinner and leaving C and Wild Man to handle the bedtime routine on their own, so I can accomplish this goal.

Next week is Spring Break, so I have no teaching responsibilities, aside from grading (YUCK!), so I will finish this chapter and complete revising the next, putting me back on schedule! Hooray for progress!

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.