Good news

Yesterday's meeting was good.*  It was, in fact, as J predicted "all good."  CU is offering me a one-year term appointment, which is equivalent to a visiting position in the States.  The following academic year the position will most likely convert to a tenure-track position.  The dean used the phrase most likely, but when pressed, he said that he has already written the position into the budget and that he is 99% certain it will convert without an issue.  He also explained why the process has taken so long. 

First, as I said in the previous post, he is new to this position having taken it over from the previous dean who was all but fired.  It seems the previous dean was essentially living in Crazy Town (I've heard this from more than one person, although the current dean didn't say anything like that at all) and refusing to take the matter seriously despite Dr. English and Dr. Writing pursuing this option for almost 2 years.  Second, the current dean wanted to arrange the position so that he didn't have to run a search.  Because CU is unionized, every position must be advertised, even positions that are understood to be earmarked for specific individuals.  While the term appointment doesn't have to be advertised, the tenure-track position would have to be advertised, so the dean go the permission from the Union to convert the position (provided the funds are still available) without advertising.  This means I don't have to worry about interviewing.  The job is mine. 

There are still some details to iron out, but it will be a joint appointment between writing and English.  I should have all the details in the next two weeks, as well as a contract.  He asked about our interviews, and I was honest.  I said I have an on-campus that I have committed to going to.  Archer told him his initial interviews went well.  Archer also said that if this offer had been made two weeks ago that he may not have gone to the initial interviews, and I said I certainly wouldn't have accepted this on-campus.  The dean apologized for the delay.  Given that he's only been in the position since Dec. 31st, all of this has moved at lightning speed, for academia at least, and Archer and I are both aware of that. 

So where does that leave us now?  Last night I was seriously considering pulling out of the interview.  I mean, it seems really unlikely that SLAC is going to be able to offer anything comparable to this in terms of partner placement.  If I do get an offer and SLAC is able to offer Archer something, the pay will be substantially less, and we'll be teaching more.  That isn't such an issue for me, but it is an issue for Archer.  In every way, it would be a huge step down for him.  But I talked to Dr. Writing today for her advice, and she said, "Go on the interview and get the job.  Yes, it's a risk for us, especially given the school's location, but it also gives Dr. English and me more leverage.  You can be assured we will go back to the dean and argue that the position should be offered as tenure-track now."  I really like this woman.  She has gone to bat for me (and essentially my entire family) a lot.  I know that there is something in it for her (she point blank told me today that she sees me as instrumental in a new major that she and Dr. English are trying to develop b/w the two departments), but she still has gone above and beyond for me.

As for the other schools and the possibility that we could get offers elsewhere, Archer and I talked about this a lot last night, too much in fact.  Here is where I stand.

• For me, the "Ivy" is off the table except as a bargaining tool.  This school will not offer me anything given my research profile (in a lot of ways, I'm freaking lucky that CU has offered me this position).  As attractive as "Ivy" is (and for me, the location is extremely attractive as it is the same city that our best friends live in), I don't want to give up what I have at CU to start all over again.  Archer agrees.  If he's offered an on-campus, he'll go, but if he's offered the job, he would likely use it as a bargaining tool for him and his department.  And we both realize that he may feel very, very different if he actually gets an offer.
• The SLAC is also unlikely.  We spent a lot of time looking at the website today, and while it has some really great programs, it is very small.  Archer would be giving up a lot--research funding and graduate students, to name a few.  I wouldn't have graduate students either, but as I've never had graduate students, that isn't as much of an issue for me.  The location is really attractive.  It's equal distance from my extended family and our families in Home State.  It is close to several of our good friends as well.  I'm going to the interview with an open mind b/c if I fall in love and they can come offer Archer something I do think we'd consider it--especially as, even though we'd be taking a big pay cut, the cost of living is so much lower.  That said, it is primarily attractive for personal reasons, not professional ones.
• PS, the private school close to Home State, is still an option.  Archer should know by Monday or Tuesday whether he gets an on-campus, and if he gets a job offer, this is a school we'll have to seriously consider.  The pay scale is comparable to CU's, and there is a fair amount of research money.  Archer wouldn't have graduate students, but I would.  It is also in a phenomenal location in terms of friends and family as well as in a key location for both of us to do a whole lot of archival work. 

But for now, I'm feeling really happy.  If nothing else happens, we know we will be in CU Land.  And I can live with that.  In fact, that makes me really happy.  As I wrote yesterday, CU Land feels more like home every day.  I think being happy professionally will go a long way to alleviate the loneliness I experience from time to time.  I already feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.   I know how impossible it can be for an academic couple to find work at the same university, especially given this economic climate.  Even if I suck up my interview next week and Archer hears nothing from the two schools he interviewed with, we have the security we've been working for.  I also have a job as an Assistant Professor--with my own office as of July 1st!!  That is pretty damn awesome.

*I'm sorry that I didn't post this yesterday for those of you following my career drama.  Bear is getting over strep, and he was a bit of a bear last night, no pun intended.

Evaluations

This morning I found my student evaluations back from the summer courses I taught in my mailbox.  They are high, my friends.  They are embarrassingly high.  My average score for the Women's Studies course I taught was 6.8 out of 7 points, and the average for the American lit course I taught was 6.6.  The director of Women's Studies stopped me and told me that my average is a full point higher than the department average.  I received similar scores for the writing courses I taught in 2009 and 2010.  And the comments were great too.  One of my lit students wrote, "If she isn't a tenure track faculty member, you need to make her one NOW!" Here's hoping the powers at be at CU are listening!

Nervous

Archer and I meet with the Dean at 2:30.  We ran into J, the faculty retention officer, while dropping the boys off*.  Archer asked her if she had any advice for us in light of the meeting.  She said, "It is all good.  Even for the long term, it is all good."  So we more or less know what the Dean is going to tell us, but still, I'm nervous.  Really nervous.  As in the meeting is in 5 hours and my stomach is in knots nervous.  As in I wasn't this nervous immediately preceding my interviews at MLA. As in I feel like I might vomit nervous.  Why am I so nervous?  Sometime in the middle of the night I realized that in spite of all the tension, in spite of all the loneliness, and in spite of all the uncertainty, CU Land has started to feel like home, maybe even more like home than Southwest College Town.  I mean, consider:

• Bear was born here.  
• We've lived in our house for almost 3 years.  Aside from our second apartment in Southwest College Town, this is the longest we've lived in a single home since we've been married.  And this is our home.  We own it and have made major changes to it.
• Wild Man has no memory of any other location--CU Land in general and our house in particular means home for him.
• Wild Man started school here.

I used to think that leaving here wouldn't be that hard, but now I realize that leaving here would be very, very hard. 

*On a side note, Wild Man loves J.  Every time he sees her he tells J's daughter, "Your mommy is so pretty."  And then he gives J a really long hug.

In other news . . .

My sister is out of the hospital.  With the help of a really great doctor, she seems to have resolved her medication issues and has found a combination of meds that really works for her (this has been an issue since she was diagnosed with bi-polar 2 years ago).  I'm very proud of her for all the hard work she has done and continues to do to manage this illness.

Clarification

Tomorrow Archer and I meet with the dean of our faculty to get the much talked about clarification.  Archer is optimistic as he has worked with the dean (this is a newly appointed dean who replaced the previous dean who was all but fired by CU, making for a very scandalous December at CU) in other capacities.  Archer likes him as he believes this dean to be a "straight shooter" (yes, that is a direct quote from my lovely husband).  Me, I'm skeptical.  I've never met this man, and I feel like I've been jerked around a bit what with every one in the university talking about me rather than to me.  So we'll see what we see.

Curiouser and curiouser

Archer got home yesterday afternoon.  He thinks the interviews went well, although he said the interview with the "Ivy" league school was the hardest interview he's ever had.  That is saying something given that Archer has had a lot of initial interviews and a fair amount of on-campus interviews as well.  Apparently a lot of the questions were hypothetical, and not the "if you could teach any course what would it be?" hypothetical.  One of the questions was something along the lines of "You have a Ph.D. student who is selecting a topic, and you want to encourage the student to explore an area that hasn't been addressed.  How do you convince the student to take on that topic?"

He has no idea what will come of either interview, but I think he is likely to get an on-campus interview with the school that is closer to Home State.  I'll call that school PS for private school.  It is a mid-size private liberal arts school.  As I said earlier, I have a good friend who teaches there, so we've been able to get a lot of inside information.  In fact, this friend, B, (I know, my pseudonyms are lame, but whatever) sent Archer all kinds of information about PS that Archer would have had a hard time finding on his own.  B was also able to answer a lot of Archer's questions about PS, making Archer look really informed at the interview.  PS also has a history of partner placement, so that makes me hopeful.

As for the "Ivy,"  I'm not sure what to think.  An offer from this school is a game changer.  I honestly don't know what it would mean for us as a couple or us as a family.  As for me, there is no way I'd get any kind of offer from this school, and more to the point, I have no desire to work at an "Ivy."  My reasons for this are primarily connected to the kind of family life I want to have, but I also have no desire to devote my life to research in that way.  "Ivy" is in a location that has a lot of other schools, so there is a strong possibility I could find work elsewhere.  I would, however, end up adjuncting for a while with no guarantee that I'd ever get a tenure track job.

And Archer and I now have a meeting with the dean of our faculty at CU to get some more clarification on my position.  It's all getting very curious, indeed.

It's getting weird . . .

on the job front.  I mean really, really weird. Here's are some updates.

• Archer is attending his field's major conference this week, and he has two interviews.  Both are with good schools, and one is an "Ivy" and one is a 4-hour drive from our families (which, depending on the day, is reason enough to take or run screaming from any offer).
• I have an on-campus interview in the next few weeks.  This is at SLAC in the states, about a 7 hour drive from our families (that distance is less likely to make me run screaming in the opposite direction).  This is a second interview for me, and I'm really interested in this job.
• There is talk that I may be offered something more long-term at CU.  Dr. English and Dr. Writing have been working on something for a long time, but I don't know much more than that.  I've kept them informed on my job search--I even let them know that I have an on-campus interview in the next few weeks.  They've been incredibly cryptic, however.  When I told Dr. Writing about my interview, she said, "Thank you for letting me know.  Dr. English and I are in the middle of something.  I wish I could tell you more."  Dr.  English said, "As I've said before and will continue to say, I hope you stay at CU."  Um, ok, what does that mean?*
• I've become friends with the faculty retention officer--her daughter is in Wild Man's kindergarten class--and I've been talking to her a lot about this stuff.  She seems to know something, and I can tell that she wants to tell me.  But she can't.  
• I want this settled.  I really do.  Every day without knowing something I feel like this gets more complicated.  Archer and I attended an open house for a school we're seriously considering enrolling Wild Man for Senior Kindergarten.  We want to visit one more school before we make a decision.  But part of me thinks we're just wasting our time.  We may not even be here.  We may have to research schools in a completely different place.  Then I had a horrifying thought this morning in the shower.  What if we move back to the states, and the school district we're in doesn't let Wild Man enroll in kindergarten because of his birthday?**  Furthermore, the thought of finding another daycare for Bear makes me sick to my stomach.  Yes, I'm worrying about everything now.  
• It is getting weird, frustrating, and crazy.

* I started writing this post yesterday, and I have some clarification on what this means.  I'm not comfortable blogging about it yet though.  I will say that clarification is good, but it also made things more complicated.
**The age cut-off in our province is drastically different than most areas in the States.  For Wild Man to be in Senior Kindergarten next year, he has to be 5 by December 31, 2011.  Typically in the states, to enroll in kindergarten, a child has to be 5 by September 30.  Wild Man's birthday is mid-October.  I'm concerned that if we move to the states he won't be allowed to attend kindergarten for another year.  That would not be a good thing.

Brown-eyed Girl

I talk to my niece last night for a while.  She asked me lots of questions about college (she's 16) and about what courses she should take during her senior year.  I got the sense that she just wanted an adult to talk to, and since her mom, who is usually good at that sort of thing, has been dealing with her illness for the past few weeks, she hasn't had anyone to talk to.  She also asked if Archer and I could take her to visit some colleges during her spring break.  She is assuming that her mom won't be up to it.  I told her we would work something out.

She is such a great kid that I want to take care of her--as is Brown-eyed Boy, her younger brother.  But I don't want to overstep my boundaries as their aunt.  I tried to reassure her last night that Archer and I are always here for her, no matter what, no questions asked.  But I reminded her that we have to check with her mom before we make any definite plans about touring colleges without her.  I always thought being an aunt was supposed to be easy.

It is snowing . . .

again.  Really, I'm done with winter.

Random Updates

A lot is going on right now (as usual, right), and here are some updates.

• The article I submitted last week has already been rejected.  Disheartening, yes.  Altogether unexpected, no.  The reader's report was helpful, and I think I can fix it.  It seems I'm not making it clear what I'm adding to the conversation.  So my argument isn't effective.  The reader said some very complimentary things about my writing, which is helpful.  I've asked a good friend to read the article.  At this point I'm too close to know what needs to be changed.  I trust this person a lot, so I'm trying to stay positive.
• Archer now has two interview lined up for his field's major conference.  One of the schools is driving distance from Home State, the other is a member of the Ivy League.  Not sure how I feel about either of those things.
• In reference to my cryptic post earlier this week, my sister, who has bi-polar, has suffered a major depressive episode, complicated by a change in medication.  After much consultation, I finally convinced her she needed someone there to help her.  My mom will get there tomorrow evening and will be there for a week.  She has also voluntarily checked herself into the hospital today, which I think is for the best.  I've been talking to my niece every day, and I think she and my nephew are doing ok.  It's hard to say though.  Brown-eyed girl's tendency is to be tough.  I considered going there all week, but when my mom stepped up, I decided not to go.  Now I'm feeling guilty about that decision.
• I just received an email from the undergrad chair of one of the departments I teach for.  They want to modify an existing course to have it act as a pre-req for a special topics course I taught last fall--the first time such a course had ever been taught at CU.  The undergrad chair wants me to write the course description for the course.  What does this mean?  Is this good news, or just news?
• I need a cocktail--in fact, I need several.

I'm finding it . . .

really hard not to be discouraged professionally right now.  That's all I have to say about that.

A question

I have a cryptic question, and I'm sorry, but I can't offer any more details at this point.

If you're concerned that a loved one's illness is beginning to have a serious and prolonged negative impact on their children, at what point do you step in and point this out to the loved one?  Is there a way to do this tactfully without making the loved one feel like s/he is failing her/his children?  Is it acceptable to say, "You need to focus on yourself right now.  Perhaps it would be best for you if the kids stayed with X for a while"?  Or is this something that is impossible to do with any kind of tact?

It's official . . .

I have deleted Pita from my friends list.

It gets better. . .

Yesterday I posted about Pita's passive-aggressive behavior on Facebook.  Well it gets better.

Yesterday afternoon she posted the following on her wall: "LORD grant me strength to accept what and who I cannot change - it amazes me that the people you love most in this world can be so clueless - and more amazingly still always self-absorbed." This is clearly meant for Archer (I'd say it was also meant for me, but I don't qualify as one of the people she loves most in the world.)  He ignored it because, really, what else was he supposed to do?  Archer is the kind of guy that will walk out of restaurant rather than be seen having an argument in public.  He has a clear sense of public and private.  He was not pleased with the comment, but given that she didn't specifically put his name in the post, he could over look it.  

Last night, Pita may have taken it too far.  She posted "Clueless" on Archer's wall.  Archer saw the post when he was up with Bear, who is cutting molars, at 4.  As she posted on his wall, he responded with "Apparently."  When I woke up a little while ago to hang with Bear so Archer could go back to sleep, he showed me the post.  And I felt compelled to respond with "What a great movie!"  Hey, I figure if she's going to be the pain in the ass that she is, I'm at least going to have a little fun.  In fact, I'm tempted to start posting titles of Alicia Silverstone movies on her wall, but I am fairly certain she wouldn't get it.


In all seriousness, she is beginning to piss me off.  It takes a lot to upset Archer--a lot.  Primarily because he is accustomed to his family's penchant for drama.  More often than not, he refuses to engage with them when they are like this.  But Pita is making it increasingly difficult not to engage.  I have no idea what is going to happen, but something tells me it will involve a very loud phone call and that I will have to figure out how to explain to Wild Man why his father is yelling at his favorite aunt.

Out

I just sent out another essay to a journal.  This isn't a top tier journal, but it is a reputable, interdisciplinary journal that often publishes on topics in my area of expertise.  I think this essay is much stronger than the last one I sent out (which, in case you forgot, was rejected).  The argument is solid, and it establishes a clear theoretical framework for my reading.  I'm optimistic, but cautiously. 

Facebook is annoying; or a family drama of sorts

In the next few weeks, Archer is planning to return to Mexico to finish the research he started in August.  To complete the project (for which he received a grant from CU), he has to travel to several sites, look at some documents, and photograph a bunch of buildings.  He'll be gone about 5 days, and he has planned the trip for Spring Break.  I would love to go.  I could use a vacation (who couldn't?), but I'm in the middle of two articles.  The week off from teaching will give me the time to finish these articles and get them out.  I need this time for my own work, so Archer will be going alone.  In the past few days, Archer has been contemplating Wild Man with him.  He wants to do this for two reasons: he thinks taking Wild Man will make my parenting load lighter, and he thinks this would be a cool trip for them to take together.  Wild Man is interested, but he's also a bit nervous about not having me and Bear with them. 

Last night, Archer posted something on Facebook about trying to decide if he would take Wild Man with him.  His sister immediately commented, writing: "So can't miss school to see his aunt or come to [home state] but go to Mexico - yeah I am putting u on facebook blast - how about some family proirities world traveler? Yeah I mad!"  Now, I really, really hate this kind of passive-aggressive statement.  Really.  And frankly, this statement encapsulates why I'm happy we don't live in Home State.  

Seriously, is it necessary to try to initiate an argument via Facebook? And I believe that is what Pita is trying to do.  There is nothing in this statement that suggests she want to have a conversation.  In fact, she is explicitly accusing Archer of not valuing his family, something she repeatedly does.  What she fails to recognize over and over again is that every single decision we make is for the benefit of our family, the family that we created together.  Do we consider Pita in every aspect of our life?  No, much as she doesn't consider us or our children in every aspect of her life.  I also really hate that she thinks she has the right to question Archer as a parent in such a public way.  I could go on and on, but instead, I'll just say that I understand she misses the boys (no, there is not a single part of me that thinks she misses me or Archer).  I understand that we don't get to Home State that often, and I understand that upsets her.  Hell, it upsets me.  I can respect and even validate those feelings if they are presented in a coherent way, in a way that invites conversation, in a way that is expressive without being combatant.  But don't try to call us out on Facebook and expect that we're going to engage in that kind of conversation publicly.  Grow up, Pita.  Now I will go back to work.

Archer's dad

Today would have been Archer's father's 64th birthday, something that both Archer and I completely forgot.  I was only reminded when I randomly logged into Facebook to ask a friend a question and saw Pita's post.  When I got home, I reminded Archer, not because I wanted him to feel bad, but because I don't want him to deal with the shitstorm he's likely to get from Pita and Yetta if he didn't call to ask how Yetta is doing.  So he called, and Yetta was out.  Pita said, "How are you doing?"  He said, "I'm sick.  I have a fever.  I feel awful."  She said, "No, I mean about the other."  Archer gave a long, long sigh, and said, "I completely forgot.  I only remembered b/c M said you posted it on Facebook.  I'm fine.  His birthday doesn't bother me."  Pita didn't say much, but Archer told me he felt like he upset her. 

These phone calls happen on every significant holiday you can think of, and the implication is always that Archer is a horrible human being because he isn't weeping over his dad on Christmas/Father's Day/Valentine's Day/his dad's birthday.  Here is the thing for Archer. He misses his dad every day, and it hits him at the oddest moments.  Like when's he found his dad's camo hat that he didn't know he had or when Wild Man asks a question about animals or nature (Archer's dad was a hunter and loved hiking).  The "big" days aren't hard for him.  The little, every day moments are.  He's explained this to his mom and sister several times, but they just don't get it.  I have no idea why.

A question about men

So can anyone speculate why men are so difficult when they are sick? 

And for the record, I know I'm perpetuating vast generalizations about an entire segment of the population, but given that almost all (if not all) of my commenting-readers are women, I'm okay with that.

Mothering a Stubborn Child, an update

After Monday night's trauma (ok, so I'm a bit dramatic) of forcing Wild Man to take Motrin to bring his fever down, Archer and I had to do the same thing again on Tuesday morning, Tuesday night, and Wednesday morning, only this time with cough medicine as Wild Man's fever was gone.  Both times, however, we gave him 2 chances to take the medicine on his own.  After the second time he refused we did what has quickly (and a bit alarmingly) become routine.  Archer hugged Wild Man in a bear hug, pinning his arms to his sides and holding his head steady, while I pried his mouth open and shot the medicine into the back of his cheek (a tip from a friend, who said that doing this makes it harder for the child to spit the medicine out, and she was right).  Each time Wild Man cried like his heart was broken, and each time I became more resigned to this method.  By yesterday morning Wild Man actually admitted the cough medicine made him feel better but that he didn't like it and that he didn't want to take it.  I said, "I know, lovey.  I don't like taking medicine either.  But sometimes we have to take medicine to help us get better.  Until you decide to take it on your own, Daddy and I will have to give your medicine this way, which upsets everyone."  As further inducement to get him to take it, Archer and I had not allowed Wild Man to watch his allotted 30 minutes of television a day or to play any of his many puzzle games on my iPod touch.  I thought this would have encouraged him to take it, especially as Wild Man got sent to his room while Bear watched Sesame Street.  No such luck.  This kid is stubborn.

Yesterday I had a thought.  Medicine does suck.  I don't like taking it, but I'm an adult.  I take it because I know it will make me feel and get better.  Wild Man doesn't get this.  All he knows is that we're forcing him to take something that tastes yucky (and I don't care how much artificial flavor, sugar, or corn syrup the manufacturers add to medicine, it still tastes like crap).  Further, we're forcing him to do something he has had absolutely no say in.  So yesterday I took a risk.  When I picked Wild Man up from kindergarten, I took him directly to the drug store without telling him where we were going.  I led him to the kids' medicine section, and I explained he could choose the kind of medicine he wanted to take.  I did explain that I had to read the box to make sure it was the appropriate kind of medicine for his cough and to make sure it was for his age.  He said, "You mean, I get to choose?"  I said, "Yep, you get to choose.  But if you refuse to take it Mommy and Daddy will have to hold your arms and squirt in down your throat just like with the other medicine until you're better."  Something clicked, and suddenly he was interested.  He pointed out a cold medication with an elephant on the box, so I told him what it was.  Then he picked out a nifty kind that melts on the tongue, and he was really interested in this one.  Unfortunately, it is designed for kids 6 or older, which I told him.  He was disappointed, but he picked another one.  After about 15 minutes he had selected a fever medication (chewable, grape-flavored tablets), a cough medicine (grape-flavored liquid), and chewable vitamins (what I didn't say in the previous post is that he was also refusing the chewable vitamins I picked out, ones high in vitamin D b/c, you know, we live in the land where the sun disappears for winter and we're all vitamin D deficient).  He held all three boxes while I paid, and as soon as we got to the car, he asked for a vitamin.  He had selected these vitamins because they have hippos on them, and as many of you know, Wild Man loves hippos.  Coincidentally, they also have the highest amount of vitamin D of any of the children's vitamins in the store, which made me happy.  As soon as I handed it to him, he happily chomped it down.

At bedtime, I told him he needed to take his cough medicine.  He was wary, even after I reminded him that it was the kind he selected.  As I handed him the medicine cup, he looked at me skeptically.  I said, "Remember, you said you'd take it.  It's your choice to take it on your own or not, but if you don't take it, we'll have to squirt it down your throat again."  He looked at me again and then at the medicine, and then he took it, saying afterward, "Hey, that didn't taste so bad, Mommy."  Archer and I both told him how proud we were, and I am.   I'm also proud of us.  I proud that we did what we had to do, and I'm also proud that we figured out a solution to the problem--for now, at least.  The next time Wild Man needs medicine or vitamins I'll happily take him shopping with me so he can choose.  It seems he wants to be involved in the process, and that's fine by me.  But I'll also be prepared to squirt it down his throat if I have to.

And as a bonus, he took his vitamin this morning without incident.  In fact, he asked for it.

Mothering a Stubborn Child

Wild Man is smart, funny, adventurous, daring, artistic, dramatic, polite, and kind.  Wild Man is also stubborn.  Archer and I have experienced many difficult parenting moments as a result of Wild Man's stubbornness, and we generally get through these moments with a modicum of disruption to our routine, our parenting styles, and our daily lives.  We constantly remind ourselves that we are both stubborn and that our stubbornness has served us well in life as it has led to determination to accomplish the goals we set for ourselves. 

I am the kind of mother that wants Wild Man to ask questions and to understand how things happen and how they work.  At times, Archer feels I allow Wild Man too much room to question and to discuss, but generally Archer agrees with me.  This means we spend a fair amount of time talking about things like why we wear snow boots in the winter.  Despite my belief that this is the right way for us to parent, there are moments when I really just want Wild Man to be quiet and to do as I ask him.  You know, when we're 20 minutes late and I have to be on campus for office hours.  At those moments I'd really just like Wild Man to do as I ask him rather than telling me that Morton, his imaginary pterandon, doesn't have to wear snow boots or that Morton's mommy also said Wild Man doesn't have to wear snow boots. 

For the past three days, Wild Man has been running a fever between 101 and 103.5.  Wild Man is rarely sick, so this is a bit unusual for us.  On Saturday, when he began complaining that the fever was making him uncomfortable, I said, "Well, let's take some medicine.  It will bring your fever down and make you feel better."  Wild Man hasn't had Motrin in a long, long time, but he has seen us give it to Bear, who generally takes it without incident.  So I poured the correct amount in the medicine cup and gave it to Wild Man, who proceeded to drink it down.  And then he proceeded to hold it in his mouth for 15 minutes until he gagged himself.  I told him he couldn't watch any TV until he took his medicine.  He was feeling really crappy, so this wasn't an issue for him at all.  In fact, he curled up on the couch and went to sleep for 2 hours.  When he woke up, his fever was up to 103, and he finally agreed to take some Motrin.  He was feeling better within 15 minutes.  He said, "You were right, Mommy!  The medicine did make me feel better."  I thought we had solved the problem.

Fast forward to yesterday evening.  His fever had returned accompanied with a cough.  I prepared a dose of cough medicine and Motrin.  I reminded him that he had taken both in the past and that both had made him feel better.  He point blank refused to take either one.  Archer and I discussed it with him.  We explained the entire process, reminding him that he would feel better.  We went against every parenting principle we have connected to food and offered him candy as a reward.  I offered to take him to McDonalds today for lunch (Wild Man learned about McDonalds during our trip to the States to attend my grandmother's funeral, and he loves it).  He refused.  So we sent him to bed without the usual stories and told him he couldn't watch TV or play any games until he took his medicine.  An hour later he was crying in his bed because he was so hot (his fever had spiked up to 103 again) that he couldn't get comfortable.  I took him into the bathroom and sat him on the floor.  I told him we would sit in the bathroom until he took his medicine.  He cried that he was tired, but he still refused.  We sat there from 8:30 until 9:45.  Archer came upstairs, and we had a quick consultation.  Wild Man was flushed and glassy-eyed from the fever.  He was barely staying awake, but he continued to refuse to take the medicine.  Archer picked him up and held his arms down, while I squirted the Motrin in the back of Wild Man's throat.  Wild Man cried, and I cried.  I hugged him until he calmed down, and then I put him to bed.  10 minutes later he was asleep.  I checked on him 30 minutes after that, and his fever had dropped. 

I know he needed the medicine, even just to make him sleep more comfortably, but I felt (and feel) horrible.  I feel like I violated some part of our relationship by forcing him to take the medicine.  As crazy (and as academic) as it sounds, I feel like I took away Wild Man's agency.  I did to him what my parents would have done to me--I said, "I am the parent, and I know what is best.  You are not allowed to have any control over your own body because I know what is best for you better than you do.  Now you must do as I say without asking any questions."  I do not want to be that kind of parent.  I do not.  I do not want to have to physically restrain my child to get him to take medicine.  But at the same time, I am the parent, and I do know that sometimes he is going to have to do things he doesn't want to do to get and/or stay healthy.  He is only 4, after all.  And as smart as he is, he doesn't understand illness or medicine. 

I know he needed the medicine, and I know there will be times in the future (like tonight) when he will need medicine.  I may have to do the same thing over again.  That said, I do not feel like I did the right thing at all, but I also don't know what else I could have done. 

Weaning

I've started the process of weaning Bear, who is almost 19-months old.  Prior to my trip, he was only nursing once a day, right before bedtime, and he was rarely nursing to sleep.  I assumed, given my experience weaning Wild Man, this would be fairly easy.  The moment Bear saw me on Sunday evening, however, he began screaming, "Nigh, nigh," his phrase for nursing (as he was only nursing right before bed for the past few months, he has come to associate nursing with going "night, night.").  I was able to get him to sleep Sunday and Monday night without nursing him, and Archer put him to bed Tuesday night.  I did nurse him early in the morning Monday and Tuesday, but he didn't nurse to sleep either time.  Last night was difficult, though.  He is getting over a bad cold, is teething, and is going through some major developmental changes (he's added about 20 words to his vocabulary in the past 2 weeks).  He screamed (and I mean screamed) for an hour before finally falling asleep, and he woke up in the middle of the night screaming "nigh, nigh."  Archer and I took terms calming him down, and while I did nurse him at 1:00 am, I only did so after he calmed down. 

When I finally nursed Wild Man, it was fairly painless.  He was the same age, and he was only nursing right before bed.  He seemed to understand it was time to stop, and when he asked to nurse, I firmly and gently said no.  He cried a bit, but nothing serious.  Certainly nothing to match the screaming fits Bear is having.  I'm doing all of these things with Bear, but to no avail.  And while there is no real need for me to stop nursing, I'm done.  Since February of 2006, I've either been pregnant or nursing, aside from a 4 month respite between weaning Wild Man and getting pregnant with Bear.  As selfish as it may sound, I want my body back, or I want as much of it back as I can have given that I'm a mother of two young children (I mean seriously, I'm not going to be able to go to the bathroom by myself for years to come, so I'd like to have my breasts return to being decorative rather than functional). 

I'm also at the point where I no longer enjoy nursing.  I know Bear is still getting some benefits from it, but he isn't getting much nutrition.  And, frankly, he's barely getting any milk at all.  It is mostly comfort, which I get, but it actually seems to distract him more than it relaxes him.  Instead, he plays with my hair, plays with my earrings, breaks off the breast to talk to me, and then returns to it, giggling.  It's very difficult to get him to relax, which has been the primary reason to continue nursing at bedtime.  But given his reaction, I'm more than a bit conflicted.  The easy thing to do is to just keep nursing him.  But I think that will only prolong the problem.  It isn't as though one day Bear is going to wake up and be willing to stop.  For now the plan is to stop nursing at bedtime so at to end the association with sleep.  I'll continue to nurse as needed in the mornings, but I plan to delay him as long as possible.  Neither Archer nor I are convinced this approach will be easy.

The Waiting Game

I am back in CU Land after a quick trip to MLA for two interviews.  I think both went well, and I think one went particularly well.  As I told Archer, I feel as though I answered all questions to the best of my ability, that I engaged with the interviewers, and that I demonstrated my knowledge of their individual programs.  I think I did the best I could do in both situations, and now I wait.  I've given it my all, and now, it is out of my hands.  I have already sent follow-up emails, along with copies of my course syllabi.  Both interviewers indicated that they hope to work quickly (one person specifically said their school had been burned in the past by waiting too long to make offers), so I hope to know something by the end of next week or the first of the following week.  It would be lovely to get an on-campus interview, especially as I think that would make some impact on negotiations at CU.  But it would also be really good for my ego.

In the meantime, I wait.

Minor Problem

The more research I do on one of the school's I'm interviewing with the more I like it.  It is a SLAC on the east coast of the U.S., driving distance from Home State (which actually makes it less attractive in my mind).  But it has a really compelling mission statement that seems to be taken seriously in every department.  The course offerings are really interesting.  There is a significant emphasis on interdisciplinarity--which is a key feature of my work.  It seems to produce really smart, community-oriented, and aware students.  I could like this school a lot.

MLA bound

Tomorrow I leave for MLA.  I have two interviews, both of which I've spoken about with the heads of the departments in which I teach at CU.  Both of these lovely people have told me to email them the minute I know anything, as they are working together to secure a permanent position for me at CU.  That would be wonderful, but I go to these interviews feeling a bit dishonest.  I will not focus on that, however.  I have lots of information to read on the flights tomorrow to prep for the interviews, and I will get to see lots of friends at the conference.  This, and actually having interviews, makes me very, very happy.

A lovely trip

We've returned from our Italian adventure, and in spite of a few tense moments (including almost missing our connecting flight home and rude pilots), we had a wonderful time.  Here are some highlights of the trip.

We attended mid-day mass on Christmas Day at St. Peter's Square in Rome, which was an amazing experience even though it was raining and we're not Catholic.

We saw many, many Nativities, like this one from St. Peter's Basilica.  

Wild Man was fascinated by them.

Wild Man loved chasing the pigeons.  Here he is doing just that in San Marco Square in Florence.

Bear spent lots of time napping in this lovely carrier I bought before we left.  It is, in my opinion, better than a Baby Bjorn because it can be worn on the parent's front or back.

Wild Man, who is a bit claustrophobic, made it to the last landing before the top of the Duomo in the Florence Cathedral.  Then he refused to go any further.  He and Bear played with our iPods while Archer and I took turns going up the rest of the way.

A happy Bear

The view of Florence, with the mountains of Tuscany barely visible through the fog, from the top of the Duomo

Happy New Year!

Life has been a bit crazy, as always, so I haven't had any time to post in 2011.  To remedy that, Happy New Year!

When in Rome. . .

Interview and Europe bound

I have an interview!  Hooray!  I received an email last week, and then, after several days of phone tag, I finally confirmed the time and place yesterday.  I'm hoping for at least one more, but I'm not optimistic.  I'm thrilled to have one.  Now I have to start planning the trip to the conference, which will be difficult to say the least.

Tomorrow we leave for an 11 day trip to Europe.  I'm excited, but I also think we're a bit crazy.  I've spent the day packing and organizing.  Tomorrow will be stressful, not impossible but stressful.  I still have some packing to do, so I'm off to get that finished.  I may not be able to post while we're away, so I wish everyone a wonderful holiday.  Thanks for hanging out with me in the cyber world!

I'm really bad at . . .

waiting. 

Anger

As I wrote a few days ago, I'm still processing my grandmother's death.  I'm angry about a lot of things.  Namely I'm angry that I always have to be the adult.  In my immediate family, meaning my parents and my two siblings, I'm the youngest (that's right, I'm the youngest), but in so many ways I'm the adult.  I'm the one who tells people to go to the doctor; I'm the to help my parents figure out how to hire a good contractor; and I'm the one my niece and nephew turn to when they are concerned about their mother's health. 

When everything was going down with my gram, I was the one to tell my mom to get in the car and go so she could say good-bye, and I'm the one who called my sister to say, "Look, you're the closest one out of our family.  Get your ass there now."  For once my sister listened.  My mom delayed, waiting on her sister-in-law to drive through Home State and pick her up.  Thus, my mom didn't make it to the hospital until half an hour before my gram was taken off the ventilator.  (On some level, I do get this.  My mom was hoping if she stayed away my gram would get better, as she has in the past.  On another level, I'm pissed that my mom delayed, forcing her youngest sister to make the decision to end life support without my mother's input.). 

I'm also angry at my mom's oldest sister for not stepping up and following my gram's wishes more closely.  My grandmother never wanted to be put on life support.  In fact, she had a living will--she'd had one for well over a decade.  The circumstances necessitated that she be put on life support as paramedics found her not breathing.  As soon as it became clear she has suffered major brain damage, everyone should have agreed, including my mom's oldest sister, that Gram be taken off life support once my grandfather and their four children (my mom and her three siblings) had time to say good-bye.  My aunt disagreed.  In fact, she argued with my mom's youngest sister (Aunt S), who is a nurse and had medical power-of-attorney.  She refused to return to the hospital the night we took my gram off life support until Aunt S told her she was taking her off life support with or without the oldest aunt there.  She then showed up and behaved very, very strangely (yes, even strangely for someone about to watch her mother die).  So, in the end, it became a case of the youngest being forced to be the most responsible.

Finally, I'm pissed at my dad who refused to come to the funeral.  Yes, you read that right.  Apparently, my parents didn't have anyone to watch their cats.  Yes, again, you read that right.  My dad tried to get my brother to stay, but he refused.  And frankly, damn right he did.  J wanted to say good-bye to his grandmother and attend her funeral.  My parents couldn't come up with a single other person to take care of their cats.  And because this all happened on the weekend they couldn't board them (or so they said).  When I heard this, I was speechless, literally.  And, as is my way, I tried to fix it.  I called Pita, who drives past my parent's neighborhood every day on her way to work, and asked her to take care of the cats.  She immediately agreed, so I called my dad back.  He wasn't happy I interfered, but he said that was fine.  He'd leave with my mom.  Pita called Archer a half an hour later to say she'd talked to my dad and that he told her he and my mom had discussed it.  He wouldn't be going.  I called my dad again.  He said it was settled.  I said point blank, "You will be expected to be there.  Grandpa will want you there.  Mom will want you there.  I need you there."  He didn't say anything, so I said, "You know, Dad, I don't ask you for much, but I'm asking you for this.  I need you to be there."  He said, "Ok, M, I'll be there.  Have Pita call me again."  Then he hung up on me.  Archer called Pita again, and she called my dad.  She called back about 15 minutes later.  She told Archer, "He said he didn't need me. He's not going."  I haven't spoken to my father since. 

For me, this is the ultimate refusal.  I told my father as clearly as I could that I needed him.  I get that this isn't about me.  I get that my dad has some health issues that make it difficult for him to travel.  I get that death is hard.  I get all of that.  But I also know that I've lived in Canada for 3 years, and my father still doesn't have a passport.  Bear was in the hospital when he was 4 weeks old, and my father couldn't come to help or to see him because he doesn't have a passport.  I've lived away from Home State for 12 years, and my father has been to visit me in my own home 3 times, one of which was when he helped me move when I started working on my Master's degree.  He's seen Wild Man about 6 times, and he's seen Bear twice.  And it isn't just me.  He hasn't seen my sister in over 2 years, and unless she makes it to Home State, she won't see him anytime soon. 

You see, attending my grandmother's funeral was about more than saying good-bye to my grandmother.  My entire family was together, save my sister's husband (who had only met my grandmother 2 times and didn't want to sacrifice his Thanksgiving with his daughters from his first marriage) and my dad.  This was the first time since 1990 all 10 of my grandparents' grandchildren were together.  This was the first time since 2007 my sister, brother, and I were together.  This was the first time my father would have seen all 4 of his grandchildren together.  And he stayed home to take care of my mom's cats.  He stayed home when I specifically asked him to come because I needed him.  This one is going to take a long, long time for me to get over.

Oh, and I really, really miss my grandmother.

Snow day part three

So tomorrow will be the third snow day in a row in CU Land.  This means that the last two days of class for the fall semester have been canceled.  This means that Archer and I have been home with Bear and Wild Man for the last two days, stuck in the house.  Wild Man loves the snow and has made several trips outside to play in the snow.  Bear, who is getting over a bad cold, hates the snow.  In fact, we took him outside briefly today, and he cried the entire time. 

In addition to being snow bound with two children who are getting a bit stir crazy, I have four sets of papers to grade by next Wednesday, including final papers for 2 classes (I'm still getting caught up from the week I was out of town for my grandmother's funeral). I have an exam to write, and all of my students are emailing me because they have final papers due soon and they don't know when they'll see me again!  I'm obsessively checking email in the hopes that I will receive an interview request for my field's big conference which is at the first of the year.  I'm trying to get ready for the holiday, which also means dealing with Archer's family's passive-aggressive comments about how we privilege our careers over our family, i.e. them, every year.  Oh, and we're traveling to Europe for 11 days in less than 10 days for Archer to do some research.  Yes, we will be in Europe for Christmas, which is the reason for all the passive-aggressive comments.  Archer keeps asking me why I'm so tense.  Maybe I should tell him to read this post. . .

Dealing

That's what I'm doing right now.  I am still processing my grandmother's deal, which was, all things considered, relatively unexpected.  Lots of things happened last week that I'm working through.  I'm angry--not at my grandmother--but at several family members.  I'll be writing about all of this in the near future.  But now I just wanted to say that I'm here.

My grandmother

My grandmother died on Monday morning.  She was 85 and had not been in the best of health; however, her death came as a bit of a shock.  On Friday evening, my aunt and uncle, with whom my grandparents live, took them out to dinner, at my grandmother's request.  When the returned home, my grandmother, who suffered from senility, complained of a headache and went to her room to change into her pajamas.  She passed out, and Aunt F went to her while my uncle called the paramedics.  They then called my other aunt, who is a cardiac care nurse, and she instructed Aunt F on how to administer CPR.  When the paramedics arrived, they had to intubate Gram, even though that is not something she would have wanted.  By late Saturday afternoon, it was apparent that Gram had suffered severe brain damage, likely due to being deprived of oxygen.  Ironically, her heart never stopped beating. 

Archer, the boys, and I left for the States on Sunday around 10:00 am.  By 8:30 Sunday night, I was sitting with my Gram, as I called her, holding her hand.  It was clear to me, however, that my Gram was not present, something my youngest aunt, Aunt S, wholeheartedly agreed with.  She had already discussed turning off Gram's ventilator with her siblings, including my mom, and they had all agreed, with deep reservations.  My mom arrived later that evening, around 10, and at mine and Aunt S's urging, my Gram was taken off the ventilator around 11:15 Sunday night, and she died at 5:50 Monday morning.  She was a great lady, who did not hesitate to tell you what she thought.  In fact, she strongly disapproved of many of my life choices, arguing that I didn't need to pursue my doctorate and that I needed to stay home with Wild Man and Bear.  As long as Archer had a good job, she argued there was no need for me to work, and certainly no need for me to be so educated, as she put it.  While she never hesitated to tell me these things, she also ended every conversation we had by saying, "I love you so much, M."  I know my Gram didn't approve of all my choices, but I never doubted how much she loved me and my boys. 

Erica Jong's The Madness of Motherhood

Read this now.

Good for the soul

That is what listening to Wild Man's running commentary while he colors is.

Essay

I received an email last night (who sends these sorts of things out on Saturday night?) telling me that the essay I submitted to THE journal in my field hadn't been accepted.  It was the nicest rejection I've ever gotten. I also received feedback from two reviewers.  The first reviewer's tone was a bit jerky, although the comments were helpful.  The second reviewer said the essay is original and well written, but that I need to reframe the argument a bit.  That makes sense to me.  It doesn't make me happy because it means a lot of work--work that I don't have time to sit down and do write now since I'm teaching 3 courses that involve a lot of grading--as in I just returned a stack of papers, have 2 more stacks to grade, and get another stack this week.  I can do the revisions, but they aren't, unfortunately, the kinds of revisions that I can do quickly and send the essay back out next week.  So now I get to think for a while and try to figure out where to go from here.  I've been slowly revising another essay that I could focus on for the next few weeks (when I'm not grading and sending out job letters).  With any luck, I could have that out by December so that I still have something on my CV that is under review.  I feel like I need that to be somewhat competitive on the market.

And while I knew this journal was a long shot, I was really hoping for a revise and resubmit.  I need some positive feedback on my work--something more than "this is original and well written, but the argument doesn't make sense."

To the student who addresses emails to Mrs. Archer

Dear Student,

Thank you for the email asking me to read your essay for your political science class.  I'll be sure to get right on that since I don't teach political science.  I'm happy to help you in any way possible.  You'll forgive me if I can't comment on content as I'm not a political scientist, and you'll understand if you don't get it back right away since I have a stack of my own students' papers to grade.

I'd also like to remind you that I introduced myself to class as Dr. M on the first day, and I made it very clear that I prefer to be addressed in that way.  My name is not now nor has it ever been Mrs. Archer.  In fact the only person who uses that name is my mother-in-law, who not only does not know how to use email but is even less likely to be willing to proofread your political science essay for you.  In the future, direct all emails to Dr. M--that is if you want me to respond.

Dr. M

Progress for me at CU

As I've written (or at least as I think I've written), Archer and I have met with the Faculty Retention Officer of CU (I'll call her J), and she's become a great advocate for us in terms of trying to negotiate a more permanent position for me at CU.  I think it helps that we know each other outside of the university (Wild Man goes to JK and daycare with her daughter, and Bear and her son were in the same daycare room all last winter) and that we like each other personally (we've been to lunch twice, once professionally and again just because we like each other).  I ran into J picking Wild Man up from JK the other day, and she said something along the lines of, "I've passed your info onto the Provost, and he has already spoken to Dr. English and Dr. Writing.  Next week he has a meeting to discuss this with the dean of your faculty. I don't know what will happen, but I wanted you to know that you haven't been forgotten."  So this seems like good news, right?  But, as usual, I took it with a grain of salt.  I told Archer, but at this point, neither of us is putting much stock in anything.

Monday morning Dr. Nice Guy (in case you're losing track of all my pseudonyms, Dr. Nice Guy is the former chair of Archer's department) stopped Archer and said, "What has J told you?"  Archer said, "Well, she's really talked to M, so you should ask her."  Dr. Nice Guy found me later that day and asked me what I knew.  I relayed the info that J had passed on, and I also told him that I know that "Dr. Writing and Dr. English have been talking about me.  They have both written letters for my job letters, and both have explicitly told me they will do what they can to keep me at CU.  Beyond that, I don't know much."  He then said, "Well I got a phone call from the dean this weekend asking my opinion, and I told them how wonderful you are.  I don't really know what's happening beyond general conversation, but I wanted you to know that the dean is finally paying attention.  I think that's progress."

I guess it is, right?   

Narrowly avoided

So one of the unbloggable issues has been resolved, and now I feel like I can blog about it--cryptically.  The issue was career related, and it was a university wide issue.  It has something to do with contract negotiations.  All part-time faculty members at CU now have new contracts, and while they are far from perfect, they are significantly better than what they were.  I'm relieved.  A potentially bad situation for me professionally and for us personally has been narrowly avoided thanks, in part, to Dr. Writing's mad negotiation skills.

A brief update

I've been thinking about my earlier post since I put it up, and I've seriously considered taking it down for a variety of reasons.  I'm going to leave it up, however, because writing it has helped me come to the realization that I'm in a big place of self doubt right now.  And I need to try to move past that.  I'm also  slowly starting to understand that just because Archer and I see us as a package deal professionally doesn't mean that every one else does.  I need to not doubt myself or us because of other people's perceptions.

And that is my profound thought of the day.

I don't know what to write

*Warning: As I wrote this post, I seriously contemplated deleting it because I know I sound like a whiny little bitch in this post.  I don't enjoy sounding like a whiny little bitch, but I'm trying to process all of this so that I feel and sound less like a whiny little bitch.

I have a lot of stuff swirling around in my brain, but I'm not sure what to write about.  A lot of the things I'm thinking are angry, irrational, and just down right ugly.  I've been thinking a lot about my previous post, and I want to say something really deep and profound about my feelings regarding Archer's current and potential professional success.  But I'm neither thinking nor feeling something deep or profound.  I have figured out why I'm bothered by this particular visit and the comments made by Dr. Bigwig and his partner (who is also an emerging scholar in the field of underwater basket weaving).

Both apparently questioned Archer about the job market and the possibility that he could leave CU.  Now, CU is a Research 1 institution.  Archer has access to a fair amount of research money (in fact, he's been awarded three internal research grants in the 2 years we've been here).  He is expected to do research, and he is getting a lot done.  His work is important for lots of reasons, but primarily because his read of a particular underwater basket is changing how all underwater baskets are viewed in the Gulf of Mexico during the Early Modern Period.  Given his work, I totally get why he wants to stay at CU.  Hell, I'd like to stay at CU.  I've been working on some projects of my own that would be much easier for me to accomplish if I were t-t at CU.  But here's the thing.  I'm not t-t.  I have no access to research money.  In fact, aside from getting reimbursed for professional memberships, I don't get anything in the way of support.  But I digress.

When Dr. Bigwig and his partner (sorry, I know this person deserves a pseudonym, but I'm all tapped out right now) questioned Archer about where he'd accept a position, he gave his standard response: "We'll go where M and I are both able to secure t-t positions." They apparently made some comments like, "Well, you're doing such important work.  We hope you won't consider a position at a place that won't allow you to keep up with your research."  So they don't want him to take a job at a school that is primarily focused on teaching.  I get that; I really do.  And before I type the next sentence, I also get that they don't know me.  They don't know anything about my work or what I do.  But as Archer relayed this whole story, I just got more and more pissed off because I was thinking, as I wrote in my last post, "But what about me?"

I'm so tired of hearing: "Archer is so great.  He's so smart.  He needs to be at an R1.  You can't leave CU, M.  It wouldn't be fair to him."  (OK, so no one has ever said the last two sentences, but I feel like that is heavily implied.  Or perhaps I'm extremely paranoid and am inferring it.)  Every time Archer goes to a conference or a faculty meeting, this is the message he comes back with.  It pisses me off.  It pisses me off because I feel like these people, who don't know me, who don't know anything about our marriage, and who don't know anything about my abilities, are thinking, "Wow, she is really selfish for asking him to move away from such a great gig.  She has a job, and while it isn't t-t, it is a good job.  She makes more money than she would in the States.  Given all his success, it makes more sense for them just to stay at CU, even if she isn't ever offered a t-t position.  His work is so important that they need to focus on him.  They don't even know if she's publishable."  And why does it bother me so much that these people I don't even know may or may not be thinking these things?  Well, apparently, here's where blogging leads to an epiphany: because that is what I think about myself. 

As I type this long, rambling post, I realize that I have no idea what my career would be like.  Yes, I have my doctorate.  Yes, I know I'm an excellent teacher, and I am a pretty good writer.  But no one has shown the interest in my work that people have shown in Archer's.  Maybe it would be better if I just reconciled myself to reaching part time so that Archer can focus on his work and secure tenure.  Maybe that is what makes the most sense for our family.

But I know that isn't what makes the most sense for me. 

Jobs, Archer, and Academia

Archer is back from his trip.  He gave a talk at a major U.S. university.  He was invited to give said talk by a major bigwig in his field.  I mean a MAJOR bigwig.  Dr. Bigwig likes Archer, he likes his work, and he even went so far as to tell Archer that he is right with his reading of underwater basket weaving whereas Dr. Bigwig, who has published about 10 books on underwater basket weaving, is wrong.  I'm really proud of Archer.  This is significant validation for his work.  It also means he has the potential to be someone in his field.  I want this for him because he deserves it and he has a lot to say.

But as he told me all of this I couldn't help but think: "What does this mean for me?  What does this mean for us?"

More to come . . .

My Mom continued

This month has been punctuated by family visits for us.  First Yetta and Pita were here, and then my sister and my nephew came for a long weekend.  This week, as I wrote earlier, my mom is here. 

Having family visit during the semester is always stressful, but certain family members are more stressful than others.  Yetta is her own entity and she creates more havoc than I could convey in single post.  Pita, while she keeps the boys (especially Wild Man) occupied, tends to leave a path of destruction in her wake (call me crazy, but I expect a 44-year-old to hang up her towel rather than leave a soaking wet towel on my bed).  My sister is wonderful in terms of being helpful (she cooks and cleans), but her presence comes with a continuous commentary about how my house is dirty (um, yes, I have a full-time teaching job as does Archer, I'm on the job market, and I have two kids; my main priority is not making sure all the toy cars under the couch are put away every night), how my house is poorly decorated (suffice to say, I think my house is mostly lovely, but my sister doesn't like my penchant for real art or framed family photographs), and how I don't wear enough make up and need to color my hair to hide the gray (for reals, she says stuff like this).  So the first two family visits of the month were stressful.

A visit from my mom brings its own stresses.  But here is the primary reason why I'm glad my mom volunteered to help me out this week: she does stuff around the house without me asking her to and, most importantly, without judging me.  In fact, this morning as I was getting ready to head to campus with the boys, she said, "Tell me how to work your vacuum.  I'll vacuum the house for you.  Oh, and where's you're sewing kit?  I noticed when I was helping you put away laundry that one of your shirts needs to be fixed."  Not only do I appreciate that she freely offered to do these things, I love that she didn't judge me in her offer.

Oh, and it's also nice that she hangs up her towel and makes her own bed.

My Mom

My mom is in town to help me with Bear and Wild Man as Archer is going out of town this week.  Ordinarily, I wouldn't have asked anyone to come help for 2 nights, but Archer is gone the night I teach from 6 to 9.  So I needed someone to give the boys dinner, bathe them, and get them to bed.  My mom volunteered, and as I haven't seen her since July, it seemed like a good idea. 

Every visit with my mom brings up lots of issues--some good, some bad.  The first few days are about me negotiating the issues I have on my own so I can try to enjoy my time with my mom.  I'm still in the process of doing that.  I'm finding it somewhat easier this time, though, mainly because I'm trying to see my mom through Wild Man's eyes.  My son knows nothing of my complicated relationship with my mom.  He knows nothing of her bi-polar, of her tendency to over-medicate when she doesn't want to deal with the world, and of my associated trust issues.  He only knows that Nana has come to visit, and he is completely enamored of her.  Yesterday, while Bear napped and Archer and I both graded papers, my mom played Play-Dough with Wild Man for 2 hours.  Then they played hide-n-seek outside.  At bedtime, Wild Man demanded that Nana read the book we read every single night--the book that he reserves for me and refuses to let Archer read, the book that no one else has ever read to him.  This morning he wanted Nana to take him to school, and when I reminded him that Nana will be picking him up at school tomorrow and she is a little nervous driving in our city and that he needs to help her out, he walked right over to her and hugged her.  Then he said, "You can do it, Nana!"  As he said that, I thought that I can do it too.  I can let go of a lot of this baggage and focus on enjoying the relationship I have with my mom.  It isn't perfect, and it does need work.  I am often angry with her for various things, but she does love me.  I need to focus on that more.

Some day, I'll thank my son for reminding me that sometimes I need to get over myself and focus on all the fun I can have with my mom. 

A meme

Like Kate, I first saw this meme at rented life's blog, but I didn't think about putting it on my blog until I read Kate's version.  I haven't been writing a lot, and what I have been writing is short and focused on the job market.  So, following Kate's lead, here are my responses to the meme in an attempt to liven my blog up a bit.
1. What is your favorite word? Wild Man and Bear's real names
2. What is your least favorite word? Like Kate, I really hate moist, but the panties comes a close second.
3. What turns you on? honesty, acceptance, humor, intelligence
4. What turns you off? drama, people who are self-centered, people who claim to be selfless
5. What is your favorite curse word? Wild Man is repeating things we say at the most inopportune moments, so I find myself spelling curse words a lot lately.  I really like how a-s-s sounds spelled out for some reason. 
6. What sound or noise do you love? Any sound of joy that my boys make, rain, opening a suitcase
7. What sound or noise do you hate? whining, my name being mispronounced
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? doula, elementary school teacher, professional organizer, actress, chef, journalist
9. What profession would you not like to try? medical doctor, nurse, vet, taxidermist
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? "This is a safe place.  You will never be judged here."


Your turn!

Happy 4th Birthday, Wild Man!

It is hard to believe that you are four years old today.  But it is equally hard to remember life without you.  Happy birthday, my sweet and wild boy!  You make every day an adventure.

I really hate . . .

paying to have my transcripts sent anywhere.  I hate it.  It's ridiculous, in my opinion.  They are, after all, my transcripts.  To pay $5 every time I need them sent somewhere really irritates me.

I will not succumb

To the job wiki that is.  I have lots of friends commenting on things they've read on various academic job wikis.  I'm staying far, far away from the one in my field.  I don't need the added anxiety.

In other news, I've got 3 more applications ready to go out tomorrow.  That brings my total to 12 or so.  By the end, I'll have sent out near 60.  I'm taking my time, even though that means I'm sending out some at the last minute, because I'm trying to tailor every letter not only to the add but to the stated mission of the department.  It is making it more time consuming, but I'm hoping it means I'll have a better year.

My life

Here is my professional life right now: teach, grade, teach, send out job materials, revise letters, think about writing, send out more job materials, and teach some more.

Here is my personal life: chase Bear and Wild Man, try to find time for me and Archer, and try not to think about work when I'm home.  I'm not so successful at the latter.

The Visit

Yetta and Pita left this yesterday morning.  I’m relieved that the visit is over.  It is also no surprise that the visit has left both Archer feeling really angry at Yetta in particular.  Here are the facts as I observed them, and I willingly admit that I am not remotely objective.

·       They left Cabbage Town on Wednesday, drove north, stopping in various locations, before their planned in CU Land arrival on mid-afternoon Friday.

·       They never called Archer at any point on their way to CU Land to let him know where they were or when we could expect them.  In fact, he had to call them Thursday evening so we could know when to expect them.  He only called because we both had to be on campus Friday and couldn’t leave until picking up the boys from JK and daycare.  If they arrived before 3:30 we had to coordinate how to let them into our house. 

·       When Archer spoke with them they said they would arrive around 2:30 on Friday.  They agreed to meet us at CU so they could give their friends a tour of the campus.

·       I had plans (which I made 2 months ago) to go shopping with a friend, and I was supposed to leave at 5:30, after, I assumed, Yetta and Pita’s arrival.

·       We got home at 4:30, having heard nothing from Yetta or Pita.  At that point they were 2 hours late. 

·       At 5, Archer, who had thought they would be at our house in time for dinner, ordered a pizza for he and the boys.

·       I left at 5:30 to meet my friend, and he took the boys to pick up the pizza.

·       At 6:30, he received a phone call from Yetta and Pita saying they were 15 minutes away.  The arrived at 7, 4.5 hours after they said they would be there.  They did not apologize for being late. In fact, they were upset that Archer and the boys had already eaten and that Archer refused to let the boys stay up past their bedtime (Bear is usually asleep by 7:45, and Wild Man goes to bed at 8:00.).  (On a side note, Archer is a stickler for schedule; he doesn’t like to deviate from the schedule for anyone, even me.)

·       In the middle of the night, after settling down a teething Bear, I heard Yetta vomiting in the downstairs bathroom, and I sent Archer to check on her. 

·       She was sick, and she said she was suffering from an attack of vertigo, which she was diagnosed with last year.  She has not had an attack in 6 months. (Apparently the dizziness of the vertigo makes her sick to her stomach.)

·       By Saturday morning, Yetta was clearly sick, and we all tried to help her out.  Pita got Yetta her anti-nausea meds, I kept the boys as quiet as possible, and Archer went out to get her gingerale and crackers to help settle her stomach.

·       By 9:30 it was really clear she wasn’t going to be able to do much for the day, so we adjusted the schedule to account for her absence.  She then had a 10 minute breakdown because she wasn’t able to take Wild Man and Bear shopping or attend Wild Man’s soccer practice.  She had said breakdown in front of my children, unnecessarily stressing out them both.

·       By noon she was miraculously recovered and able to go out to lunch with all of us because, as she told Archer, “There’s nothing here that I think my stomach can handle.” (Note: bagels, toast, bananas, applesauce, cheerios, turkey, and a lot of other plain foods were available in my refrigerator.)

·       After lunch she was feeling well enough to have Archer take her and her friends (who were staying at a nearby hotel) on a tour of the area.  She did, however, have a bucket in her lap the entire time in case she got sick.

·       For the rest of the afternoon, she sat on the couch and complained or slept while Pita and their friends played with Bear and Wild Man.  In fact, at Pita’s insistence Archer and I went out to dinner and Pita and their friends fed the boys and kept them entertained until we got home right at bedtime.  Yetta sat on the couch.

·     Sunday she woke up sick again, and we all urged her to go to the doctor.  She refused—until 3:00.  She then made Pita drive her to the nearest state and take her to the emergency room (Medicaid wouldn’t cover her visit to a hospital in Canada).  She got upset because her friends elected to stay in their hotel rather than go to the ER with her. 

So those are the facts.  Was she sick?  Yes, it was an attack of vertigo, for which I’m really, really sorry.  I wish she had felt better.  I wish she had been able to talk to and play with the boys more.  That said, I do feel like she amped up the drama whenever she could.  I’m sure she was sick.  I am not, however, sure how sick she was.  I feel like she made it out to be a lot worse than it was for the attention.  Unfortunately, she wasn’t very successful as Archer and I both took the, “well, I’m sorry your sick.  It seems like you just need to rest.  We have to go on with our day” approach.  She made it clear through some passive-aggressive comments (like “I guess I’ll just drive myself to the hospital.” and “Oh, you think I’ve ruined the whole weekend.”) that she was not happy with our behavior.  She also made it very clear that she was annoyed by all the attention Wild Man gave Pita and that she thinks I coddle Bear, who refused to go to her at all (he’s 15 months old; he is going through his “I only want Mommy!” phase.  He doesn’t even want Archer some days.).  It was an exhausting weekend because I felt like I was held captive in my house.  We couldn’t leave in case she needed us, and the few times one of us left, she made it really clear that “we deserted her.”  I’m glad it is over.  I’m even more glad I don’t have to see her again for a long time.