One of my very best friends in the world--a person who has been my friend since 5th grade and is the only person from high school that I go out of my way to keep up with--is getting married in October. This person, whom I'll call Prudence (a reference she'll get, I think), was my maid-of-honor when Archer and I got married, so there is absolutely no way I am missing this wedding. That said, the wedding is in a hard-to-get-to location, and it will take place in the middle of the fall semester, both of which make it difficult and expensive for our entire family to go. Originally we had planned that I would go by myself while Archer stayed home with the boys. After some investigating, I discovered that it wouldn't be terribly expensive for Archer to come with me, provided we could find someone to stay with the boys for about 4 days. So I mentioned this to him. He loved the idea--especially since we haven't had a night alone together since Wild Man was born almost 5 years ago. We discussed our options for childcare, which are somewhat limited. We decided, against my own reservations, that Pita and Yetta were the best choice, so we asked them if they would come up to CU Land to care for the boys so we could go to the wedding. They immediately agreed, provided Pita could get the time off of work. Archer and I began making tentative plans to attend the wedding. The plans, however, have gotten increasingly complicated. And to be honest, I don't know why I'm surprised as everything involving Yetta and Pita gets complicated.
In the past 5 days, Yetta has called every single day to ask us when the wedding is (you know, because Prudence and her fiance change the date every 5 minutes), how long we'll be gone, and when we need them here. Whatever. I can handle this mainly because I'm not the one on the phone with her. Apparently she called Archer earlier this morning to ask one more question: "Is there anyway you could come to Home State first and leave the boys here with us?" Um, how in the hell would that work? The wedding is in, as I said, an out of the way location, so doing this would necessitate that we buy 4 plane tickets to Home State, drop the boys off, and then, having purchased 2 tickets to the wedding location, fly there. Then we'd have to do the exact reverse--all in 4 days. Plus, we'd have to pull Wild Man out of school and haul all of their stuff to Home State. I mean, seriously, on what planet is this even practical?
Why would Yetta ask if this was possible? Well, she is likely more comfortable in her own home than in ours, and it also seems that she is not sure Pita can get the time off. So she wants to ensure we are able to go to the wedding, and in her mind, bringing the boys to her makes the most sense. And no, she will not come take care of the boys on her own--we wouldn't even ask her because we don't think she's physically up to it. Archer just suggested asking my mom, who would happily come and could (more or less) manage it, except she refuses to drive in CU Land. Thus, the boys would be trapped in the house with her for 4 days, and Wild Man would still miss school.
Really, I just want to go to Prudence's wedding--with my husband. Is that too much to ask? Is it wrong to hire Bear's teacher, our go-to babysitter, for 4 days?
Friday, August 05, 2011
My Office
For the past 2 weeks, I have been taking advantage of having my own office. I have all of my books unpacked and my files are semi-organized. I've compiled a list of things I need to purchase (for which I will get reimbursed!), and I've been working away. I've done research on a new project--the first completely new project I've started since completing my dissertation--and spent time revising a dissertation chapter into an article. While I've been in my own office every weekday for almost just over 2 weeks now, I don't think I really grasped the fact that I was, in fact, in my own space until late last week.
While doing research on my current project, I read yet another critic who disagreed with the argument I'm making. In frustration, I logged onto Facebook, hoping one of my academic friends would be online. Sure enough, I found a friend and messaged her. We chatted for a few minutes, and she affirmed that my argument makes sense. She then pointed me to another book to consider as evidence that my argument is valid. Her suggestion was fabulous, so I grabbed a piece of paper to jot down the reference and the title, thinking, "I'll have to get this off my shelf at home." Then it occurred to me that I was in my own office--with all of my books unpacked and neatly organized on the floor to ceiling shelves. I spun my chair around, found the book, grabbed it off the shelf, and found the part my friend was referring to. I was so thrilled that I was able to do that. As soon as I ended my chat with my friend, I was able to jot down some notes about this reference, rather than waiting until I got home to do so. It was wonderful!
While doing research on my current project, I read yet another critic who disagreed with the argument I'm making. In frustration, I logged onto Facebook, hoping one of my academic friends would be online. Sure enough, I found a friend and messaged her. We chatted for a few minutes, and she affirmed that my argument makes sense. She then pointed me to another book to consider as evidence that my argument is valid. Her suggestion was fabulous, so I grabbed a piece of paper to jot down the reference and the title, thinking, "I'll have to get this off my shelf at home." Then it occurred to me that I was in my own office--with all of my books unpacked and neatly organized on the floor to ceiling shelves. I spun my chair around, found the book, grabbed it off the shelf, and found the part my friend was referring to. I was so thrilled that I was able to do that. As soon as I ended my chat with my friend, I was able to jot down some notes about this reference, rather than waiting until I got home to do so. It was wonderful!
Wednesday, August 03, 2011
Sore
Yesterday morning I woke up with some tension in my neck and shoulders. Given that this is where I carry my stress, I didn't think too much about it. By mid-day, however, I also noticed that my triceps and biceps are really sore, so sore that picking up Bear was a bit uncomfortable. But, again, I didn't think too much about it. This morning, however, I'm really, really sore, as in so sore it hurts to lift my school bag, which doesn't contain anything out of the ordinary. I'd like to say it is from all the exercising I've been doing, but unless you count picking up Bear and taking books to and from my shelves while I do research exercise, that isn't it. I mentioned it to Archer, and he said, "Well, it makes sense." I gave him a quizzical look. He said, "M, you had to hold Bear down for over an hour on Monday night while the nurses at the ER tried to give him an IV. He weighs 27 pounds and is as strong as an ox." Right. That would explain it.
Tuesday, August 02, 2011
Another question for my readers
This question refers to my previous post.
Is there a way to ask someone, who is well intentioned, not to post personal information about my children or me on Facebook? After last night's ordeal, I woke up to find that Pita (yes, we're friends on FB again) had posted a prayer request for Bear. While I do appreciate that her intentions were good, I don't appreciate her sharing the news so publicly, especially as she is friends with my father and brother, neither of whom yet knew about Bear's trip to the ER. As soon as I saw her post, I had to call my parents and my brother, so they didn't see her post and get worried--or be hurt that I hadn't yet called them. Again, I know she was well intentioned, but I really, really don't like that she posted something like this so publicly. I also know this feeling is a bit ironic given that I just wrote a blog post about the incident. I also realize that it is entirely likely I'm overreacting, but it really bothers me. I know I will likely just have to let it go, but if anyone can think of a tactful way to make this request please let me know.
*As an aside, Pita knew about Bear's trip to the ER b/c Yetta called right as Bear and I were leaving. Archer told her to get her off the phone quickly. This is usually the sort of thing we don't share with our families until after the fact because it makes life less complicated.
Is there a way to ask someone, who is well intentioned, not to post personal information about my children or me on Facebook? After last night's ordeal, I woke up to find that Pita (yes, we're friends on FB again) had posted a prayer request for Bear. While I do appreciate that her intentions were good, I don't appreciate her sharing the news so publicly, especially as she is friends with my father and brother, neither of whom yet knew about Bear's trip to the ER. As soon as I saw her post, I had to call my parents and my brother, so they didn't see her post and get worried--or be hurt that I hadn't yet called them. Again, I know she was well intentioned, but I really, really don't like that she posted something like this so publicly. I also know this feeling is a bit ironic given that I just wrote a blog post about the incident. I also realize that it is entirely likely I'm overreacting, but it really bothers me. I know I will likely just have to let it go, but if anyone can think of a tactful way to make this request please let me know.
*As an aside, Pita knew about Bear's trip to the ER b/c Yetta called right as Bear and I were leaving. Archer told her to get her off the phone quickly. This is usually the sort of thing we don't share with our families until after the fact because it makes life less complicated.
A frustrating evening
Last night Bear and I spent the evening in the emergency room. He is absolutely fine now, and it seems as though what we experienced was a complete fluke. That said, the entire experience was an exercise in frustration for me. Here is what happened.
We spent the afternoon at the pool swimming with the boys. Both Bear and Wild Man love the water, and in an attempt to help them learn to swim better and to give our backs a rest, we bought both boys life jackets. This meant that Bear was not attached to my hip and that I could allow him more freedom in the water. It also means that he was much more active in the water than he has been the last few times we've gone to the pool. We left the pool at 4:20 and headed home to prepare for a dinner with friends. By the time we got home 10 minutes later, Bear was crying. Archer and I both thought he was either tired or hungry. As I took him into the house, it became very clear he was not tired or hungry. First, he wasn't crying as much as he was screaming. Second, he was squirming a lot, as though he was struggling to get comfortable. I took him upstairs and laid him down on my bed. I quickly changed into dry clothes and then took off Bear's diaper. I though he might be struggling to poop, but he wasn't. His stomach was, however, as hard as a rock. I pumped his legs a few times to see if that would relieve the pain, and while he farted a lot, he continued to scream. By then, our guests had arrived. Archer came upstairs to check on Bear, and he tried to comfort him as well. Bear responded by screaming "Mommy!" So I sent Archer back downstairs to entertain and finish getting dinner ready. Then, I walked with Bear, hoping that would calm him down. Then, I put him in his crib (after he asked me to do so, something he has never done). I rubbed his back, and he fell asleep for a few minutes, only to wake up screaming in pain. Archer came back up to give me a bit of a break and to ask me to finish making cole slaw, something he thought would be easier for me to do than to explain to him. He managed to get Bear calm and brought him downstairs a few minutes later. For the next ten minutes or so, Bear clung to me, but he was calm. He asked for water and tried to eat a potato chip. Just as I was starting to relax, he started screaming again. I took him back upstairs leaving Wild Man and Archer to deal with our guests. After another 10 minutes of trying to determine why Bear was in so much pain, I decided to go to the ER. I told Archer, who seemed a bit taken aback,* and we left.
Being in the car seemed to calm Bear down (and in hindsight, I think the pressure of the straps on his stomach helped alleviate the pain), but he started crying as soon as I took him out. Luckily it was a quiet night, so we were taken back almost immediately. It likely helped that Bear screamed the entire time the triage nurse examined him and refused to let her touch his stomach. The doctor saw Bear within 15 minutes of us being taken to the exam area, and he assured me I had done the right thing bringing him in. He said, "It may just be that he drank too much water at the pool, but he is clearly in a great deal of pain." He explained that Bear's pattern of getting very upset and then calming down was concerning him. He said if it was just gas the pain would be more consistent until it dissipated in some way. He was further concerned by the fact that none of the farting or belching Bear had done seemed to alleviate the pain at all. So he ordered an x-ray, which only showed a lot of gas in Bear's system. He then ordered an abdominal ultrasound to make sure it wasn't some sort of obstruction, assuring me if it was we would be catching it very early as Bear hadn't vomited. Before we could do the ultrasound, Bear had to have an IV to get him hydrated as well as blood taken. It took the nurses three tries, an hour, and my insistence that they put the damn IV in Bear's leg before we were through that ordeal (I also had to hold him down and endure my very verbal two year old telling me, "Mommy, please no more hurt!" as well as him asking for both Archer and Wild Man before it was over). By then it was 8:30, and we'd been in the ER for 3 hours.
After the IV was in, Bear cuddled in my arms and rubbed my hair. He was so calm that one of the nurses just wheeled us back to radiology in the hospital bed. He actually fell asleep during the ultrasound, which amazed both me and the technician. By 9:30 we were back in the ER, and Archer was there. After he'd gotten Wild Man asleep, he'd asked one of our friends to stay with Wild Man so he could come to the hospital to check on us. By 10:20 the doctor came over to talk to us. The ultrasound showed nothing out of the ordinary, and he told us we could go home once he'd gotten the results from the blood work. By 11:10, those results were back, and they were clear. So after giving us some instructions, the doctor released Bear. We have no idea, really, what caused the sudden and severe pain. The best explanation the doctor could give was that Bear had ingested too much chlorinated water, although he again admitted he was concerned about the level of pain and the way it seemed to come and go. Bear slept through the night, and he was in good spirits this morning. Aside from a bruise on his arm, where the nurses attempted to put the IV, he has no signs of his traumatic evening.
I, however, am frustrated. Why? Well, I'd like to give everyone at the damn hospital, with the exception of the doctor and the ultrasound technician, a lesson in dealing with children. Everyone we encountered needs to work on their bedside manner, especially considering that this is an ER solely for children. From the nurse who asked me if I wanted to wake up my just turned two year old to take him to go pee before trying to give him an IV (I mean, seriously? And the way the question was framed made absolutely no sense. It was as though the nurse was telling me that Bear was old enough to be potty trained) to the x-ray tech who told Bear to stop crying so she could get a clearer image (really, I'd like to know what two year old doesn't cry when his mother is forcing him into very awkward positions while he is clearly in pain) to the three nurses who preferred to keep trying to get the IV in his arm (they looked at me like I was nuts when, after three failed attempts, I adamantly insisted they put it in his ankle, where they got it on the first try) to the medical student who insisted on speaking to Bear like he could understand everything she said (I do understand that they are students, but seriously? Has no one ever pulled them aside and said, "You don't need to raise your voice to speak to children. And it's better if you explain things in a soft voice as simply as possible." She literally seemed to want him to respond when she said, "Do you understand I'm going to examine you now?" I said, as calmly as I could, "The only thing he understands is that he is in pain and in a strange place. Get on with it, ok?"). Almost every person we encountered needs some instruction on how to deal with children and their parents. And this isn't the first time I've experienced such frustration at the Children's Hospital.
Thankfully, however, Bear is fine.
*Archer was taken aback because this is typically the kind of decision I agonize over. I do not like hospitals. I do not like taking my children to hospitals. Every other time we've had to take the boys to the ER, we've only done so after a lengthy conversation and after consulting with either our own doctor or getting a friend's opinion. He was taken aback, I think, because I made the decision without any discussion.
We spent the afternoon at the pool swimming with the boys. Both Bear and Wild Man love the water, and in an attempt to help them learn to swim better and to give our backs a rest, we bought both boys life jackets. This meant that Bear was not attached to my hip and that I could allow him more freedom in the water. It also means that he was much more active in the water than he has been the last few times we've gone to the pool. We left the pool at 4:20 and headed home to prepare for a dinner with friends. By the time we got home 10 minutes later, Bear was crying. Archer and I both thought he was either tired or hungry. As I took him into the house, it became very clear he was not tired or hungry. First, he wasn't crying as much as he was screaming. Second, he was squirming a lot, as though he was struggling to get comfortable. I took him upstairs and laid him down on my bed. I quickly changed into dry clothes and then took off Bear's diaper. I though he might be struggling to poop, but he wasn't. His stomach was, however, as hard as a rock. I pumped his legs a few times to see if that would relieve the pain, and while he farted a lot, he continued to scream. By then, our guests had arrived. Archer came upstairs to check on Bear, and he tried to comfort him as well. Bear responded by screaming "Mommy!" So I sent Archer back downstairs to entertain and finish getting dinner ready. Then, I walked with Bear, hoping that would calm him down. Then, I put him in his crib (after he asked me to do so, something he has never done). I rubbed his back, and he fell asleep for a few minutes, only to wake up screaming in pain. Archer came back up to give me a bit of a break and to ask me to finish making cole slaw, something he thought would be easier for me to do than to explain to him. He managed to get Bear calm and brought him downstairs a few minutes later. For the next ten minutes or so, Bear clung to me, but he was calm. He asked for water and tried to eat a potato chip. Just as I was starting to relax, he started screaming again. I took him back upstairs leaving Wild Man and Archer to deal with our guests. After another 10 minutes of trying to determine why Bear was in so much pain, I decided to go to the ER. I told Archer, who seemed a bit taken aback,* and we left.
Being in the car seemed to calm Bear down (and in hindsight, I think the pressure of the straps on his stomach helped alleviate the pain), but he started crying as soon as I took him out. Luckily it was a quiet night, so we were taken back almost immediately. It likely helped that Bear screamed the entire time the triage nurse examined him and refused to let her touch his stomach. The doctor saw Bear within 15 minutes of us being taken to the exam area, and he assured me I had done the right thing bringing him in. He said, "It may just be that he drank too much water at the pool, but he is clearly in a great deal of pain." He explained that Bear's pattern of getting very upset and then calming down was concerning him. He said if it was just gas the pain would be more consistent until it dissipated in some way. He was further concerned by the fact that none of the farting or belching Bear had done seemed to alleviate the pain at all. So he ordered an x-ray, which only showed a lot of gas in Bear's system. He then ordered an abdominal ultrasound to make sure it wasn't some sort of obstruction, assuring me if it was we would be catching it very early as Bear hadn't vomited. Before we could do the ultrasound, Bear had to have an IV to get him hydrated as well as blood taken. It took the nurses three tries, an hour, and my insistence that they put the damn IV in Bear's leg before we were through that ordeal (I also had to hold him down and endure my very verbal two year old telling me, "Mommy, please no more hurt!" as well as him asking for both Archer and Wild Man before it was over). By then it was 8:30, and we'd been in the ER for 3 hours.
After the IV was in, Bear cuddled in my arms and rubbed my hair. He was so calm that one of the nurses just wheeled us back to radiology in the hospital bed. He actually fell asleep during the ultrasound, which amazed both me and the technician. By 9:30 we were back in the ER, and Archer was there. After he'd gotten Wild Man asleep, he'd asked one of our friends to stay with Wild Man so he could come to the hospital to check on us. By 10:20 the doctor came over to talk to us. The ultrasound showed nothing out of the ordinary, and he told us we could go home once he'd gotten the results from the blood work. By 11:10, those results were back, and they were clear. So after giving us some instructions, the doctor released Bear. We have no idea, really, what caused the sudden and severe pain. The best explanation the doctor could give was that Bear had ingested too much chlorinated water, although he again admitted he was concerned about the level of pain and the way it seemed to come and go. Bear slept through the night, and he was in good spirits this morning. Aside from a bruise on his arm, where the nurses attempted to put the IV, he has no signs of his traumatic evening.
I, however, am frustrated. Why? Well, I'd like to give everyone at the damn hospital, with the exception of the doctor and the ultrasound technician, a lesson in dealing with children. Everyone we encountered needs to work on their bedside manner, especially considering that this is an ER solely for children. From the nurse who asked me if I wanted to wake up my just turned two year old to take him to go pee before trying to give him an IV (I mean, seriously? And the way the question was framed made absolutely no sense. It was as though the nurse was telling me that Bear was old enough to be potty trained) to the x-ray tech who told Bear to stop crying so she could get a clearer image (really, I'd like to know what two year old doesn't cry when his mother is forcing him into very awkward positions while he is clearly in pain) to the three nurses who preferred to keep trying to get the IV in his arm (they looked at me like I was nuts when, after three failed attempts, I adamantly insisted they put it in his ankle, where they got it on the first try) to the medical student who insisted on speaking to Bear like he could understand everything she said (I do understand that they are students, but seriously? Has no one ever pulled them aside and said, "You don't need to raise your voice to speak to children. And it's better if you explain things in a soft voice as simply as possible." She literally seemed to want him to respond when she said, "Do you understand I'm going to examine you now?" I said, as calmly as I could, "The only thing he understands is that he is in pain and in a strange place. Get on with it, ok?"). Almost every person we encountered needs some instruction on how to deal with children and their parents. And this isn't the first time I've experienced such frustration at the Children's Hospital.
Thankfully, however, Bear is fine.
*Archer was taken aback because this is typically the kind of decision I agonize over. I do not like hospitals. I do not like taking my children to hospitals. Every other time we've had to take the boys to the ER, we've only done so after a lengthy conversation and after consulting with either our own doctor or getting a friend's opinion. He was taken aback, I think, because I made the decision without any discussion.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Busy work and family stuff
That is what I've been dealing with all morning. I had to update my CV, draft an abstract, and send about 15 emails. I've also been dealing with family stuff, which isn't always fun. I'd really like to write more, but I'm afraid I'd end up composing a diatribe about the stupidity of various family members. While that might help me relieve some stress, it wouldn't be very productive, at least not in regards to the writing goals I have to accomplish today. I will say that Brown-Eyed Girl is facing an uphill battle when it comes to choosing a college which her mother (my sister) will approve of.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Writing
That is what I've been doing this morning, and it feels very good to know that I can, in fact, still construct a sentence.
I am in . . .
funk. I'm not sure why. I had a good meeting with my new department head yesterday (for whom I'll have to think up an pseudonym at some point). I think I've figured out the essay I've been working on, and I also may have figured out how to revise the essay that was rejected last spring. But I'm still in a funk. I'm going to force myself to work my way out of it. I'll check in later to let you know how it is going.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
A rhetorical question
Wonderful readers, I have a rhetorical question for you. Let's say you have a dear friend who is struggling to improve a certain aspect of hir life. Let's also say that you have observed certain things about your friend's actions and behavior that are possibly hindering hir struggle, things that the friend is clearly not conscious of. Finally, let's say that you think that if your friend were more aware of these actions and behaviors, your friend might be able to address said struggles more fully. Would you point out these actions and behaviors, knowing the friend might not take it well and that you maybe doing permanent damage to your friendship? Or would you mind your own business?
*Note: we'll assume that none of these behaviors are life threatening to the friend or anyone else.
*Note: we'll assume that none of these behaviors are life threatening to the friend or anyone else.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
The dissertation
I've been rereading my dissertation in an attempt to glean something publishable out of it. I've also been trying to determine how much work I will need to do to publish it as a book. I came to the conclusion yesterday that my dissertation should never have been written. Now, I'm not being self-deprecating. I am not in the midst of an intellectual crisis. I still stand by my ideas. I still think the argument is sound. I do not, however, think that the works I chose to put together should have been considered together. And you know what, I'm happy to be able to admit that. If I had it to do over again (which, given that I have to have a book for tenure at CU, I sort of do) I would focus on African American women writers. Again, I do think the things I said about the white writers I focused on are valid, but I don't think those chapters work in connection to the discussion of African American writers. I think, and at the time of my defense my committee agreed, that my chapter on African American women writers is the strongest. I think I'm adding the most to the current critical conversation with my analysis of these writers. Now I need to add about three more writers to the mix, craft a book prospectus, and get a contract. While that is much easier said than done, I do feel like this is a much more manageable project than trying to connect four such disparate authors--authors I really struggled to connect when I was writing my dissertation. So now that I have a clear plan, I feel like this is a project I can wrap my head around.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Have I mentioned. . .
that I'm likely going to have to go back on the job market this year? Have I also mentioned that I'm not excited about doing so at all?
More on "The House"
Friday, July 22, 2011
The house
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The kitchen: it is huge, but it doesn't have a dishwasher. It also needs to be updated a bit, especially the terra cotta paint--almost the exact color we painted over in the living room of our town house. Seriously, I am starting to feel like we can't get away from this color.
Parenting Dilemmas
During our lengthy trip to Home State, we were able to spend a bit of time with some good friends from Southwest College Town. On the way to Home State, we visited Solon and Megs They have three children, two girls and a boy, and Archer and I are their youngest daughter's godparents. Likewise they are Bear's godparents. While we were together, I observed some very key differences between their girls and our boys (their son, whom I will call Ringo because he loves drums, just turned one, so any differences I noticed between him, his sisters, and our boys I'm going to attribute to age). The key differences are fairly expected. Solon and Megs's girls (whom I will call Aurora and Belle, in honor of their favorite princesses) are "quieter" and "calmer," but they also seem to listen better. If Megs wanted Aurora, the eldest, (to Solon and Megs, if you're reading this, yes, I know these are totally lame pseudonyms, so you don't need to comment on the lameness) to do something, she asked, and more often than not, Aurora complied. Similarly, if Solon needed Belle to do something, she complied, with only one exception that I recall.
In contrast, Archer and I find ourselves asking Wild Man and Bear to do the same thing over and over again. For example, if I want Wild Man, who is about 4 months older than Aurora, to get dressed, I say, "Wild Man, here are you clothes. Please get dressed." He may take off his PJ bottoms as soon as I make the request, but before putting on his shorts, he gets distracted and starts playing. I repeat the request, and completely absorbed in his imaginary world of who knows what, Wild Man ignores me. I repeat the request a third time, and this time he may take off his PJ top. Once that is off, he recalls the joy of being in his underwear and proceeds to perform the underwear dance for about 3 minutes. I remind him again to get dressed, and usually by now, I'm starting to lose my patience. Wild Man may pick up his shirt and toss it across the bedroom. At this, I'm getting angry, so I raise my voice and tell him to come to me. I then hand him each piece of clothing while he puts in on. Only then is he dressed. This, frankly, is a good morning. Bad mornings include at least one trip to time out for Wild Man for not listening. Bear is slightly more willing to get dressed, but then he is just two. Unlike Wild Man, he is not able to dress himself. It can, however, be a bit of a wrestling match to get him to stand still long enough to get clothes on him.
While we were with Solon and Megs, I watched Megs dress Aurora and Belle. Megs said, "Aurora, here are your clothes. Please put them on." Aurora said something like, "I'd rather wear this shirt, Mommy." Megs said, "Ok, now please get dressed." And without saying anything else, Aurora did. Belle had to be asked twice, but then she isn't quite three. Whereas it took me about ten minutes to get Wild Man and Bear dressed, Aurora and Belle were dressed in under five minutes. I also noticed that Megs never lost her patience (I lose my patience a lot), and she didn't seem frazzled at all. Aurora and Belle listened to their mother and did what she asked. I began to wonder if I was doing something wrong.
Fast forward to the end of our trip. We spent a day and night with some other dear friends from Southwest College Town, who, by virtue of the academic job market, now live three hours from our parents. Like us, Supadiscomama and Harrogate have two boys. Captain and Climber (names that reflect their eldest son's love of pirates and their youngest son's propensity to climb up Supadiscomama) are 3 months older than Wild Man and ten months younger than Bear, respectively. As with Ringo, I'm not including Climber in any observations because of his age. In the time we were with them, I observed that Supadiscomama and Harrogate, like Archer and me, often had to repeat their instructions to Captain. While he occasionally seemed to chose not to listen as an act of defiance (as does Wild Man), more often than not he just seemed too wrapped up in what he was doing to focus on his parents' instructions. Like Archer and me, Captain's parents lost their patience and, after asking him to do something at least four times, sent him to time out for not listening. Throughout the visit, both Wild Man and Captain struggled to focus on directions and to listen, but several times both did exactly what they were asked to do without hesitation or question. Following our time with Supadiscomama and Harrogate, I began to wonder if girls just listen better than boys, especially at this age.
Since our return to CU Land, I've been thinking about this question a lot, primarily because some days I am literally at my wit's end. When Wild Man doesn't listen, for whatever reason, I find myself losing my patience, as does Archer. We both end up raising our voices, threatening, and taking things away all in an attempt to get Wild Man to do what we're asking. We've tried a reward system, and that has worked with some success. But we both think that at 4 1/2 there are some things Wild Man should be able to do without a reward--like getting dressed and brushing his teeth. So at the end of most days, we're both annoyed with our child, and we're both feeling like horrible parents. We've talked about this endlessly, and we've tried various things, including explaining consequences, giving warnings, etc. No matter what we try it seems like we end up raising our voices and threatening, and in turn, Wild Man is now raising his voice at Bear. So we've only succeeded in teaching him to yell at his little brother. I feel like what we're doing just isn't working. And, while Archer would argue that I'm overreacting, I feel like we're failing as parents, at least in this particular area. Moreover, despite some research on the topic, I'm left with lots of questions and virtually no answers. Are boys different than girls (which, ultimately, really isn't the point)? What techniques are more effective helping boys learn to listen? How can we help Wild Man and Bear to focus and listen without resorting to yelling and time outs? Or are we simply expecting too much from our children, Wild Man especially?
In contrast, Archer and I find ourselves asking Wild Man and Bear to do the same thing over and over again. For example, if I want Wild Man, who is about 4 months older than Aurora, to get dressed, I say, "Wild Man, here are you clothes. Please get dressed." He may take off his PJ bottoms as soon as I make the request, but before putting on his shorts, he gets distracted and starts playing. I repeat the request, and completely absorbed in his imaginary world of who knows what, Wild Man ignores me. I repeat the request a third time, and this time he may take off his PJ top. Once that is off, he recalls the joy of being in his underwear and proceeds to perform the underwear dance for about 3 minutes. I remind him again to get dressed, and usually by now, I'm starting to lose my patience. Wild Man may pick up his shirt and toss it across the bedroom. At this, I'm getting angry, so I raise my voice and tell him to come to me. I then hand him each piece of clothing while he puts in on. Only then is he dressed. This, frankly, is a good morning. Bad mornings include at least one trip to time out for Wild Man for not listening. Bear is slightly more willing to get dressed, but then he is just two. Unlike Wild Man, he is not able to dress himself. It can, however, be a bit of a wrestling match to get him to stand still long enough to get clothes on him.
While we were with Solon and Megs, I watched Megs dress Aurora and Belle. Megs said, "Aurora, here are your clothes. Please put them on." Aurora said something like, "I'd rather wear this shirt, Mommy." Megs said, "Ok, now please get dressed." And without saying anything else, Aurora did. Belle had to be asked twice, but then she isn't quite three. Whereas it took me about ten minutes to get Wild Man and Bear dressed, Aurora and Belle were dressed in under five minutes. I also noticed that Megs never lost her patience (I lose my patience a lot), and she didn't seem frazzled at all. Aurora and Belle listened to their mother and did what she asked. I began to wonder if I was doing something wrong.
Fast forward to the end of our trip. We spent a day and night with some other dear friends from Southwest College Town, who, by virtue of the academic job market, now live three hours from our parents. Like us, Supadiscomama and Harrogate have two boys. Captain and Climber (names that reflect their eldest son's love of pirates and their youngest son's propensity to climb up Supadiscomama) are 3 months older than Wild Man and ten months younger than Bear, respectively. As with Ringo, I'm not including Climber in any observations because of his age. In the time we were with them, I observed that Supadiscomama and Harrogate, like Archer and me, often had to repeat their instructions to Captain. While he occasionally seemed to chose not to listen as an act of defiance (as does Wild Man), more often than not he just seemed too wrapped up in what he was doing to focus on his parents' instructions. Like Archer and me, Captain's parents lost their patience and, after asking him to do something at least four times, sent him to time out for not listening. Throughout the visit, both Wild Man and Captain struggled to focus on directions and to listen, but several times both did exactly what they were asked to do without hesitation or question. Following our time with Supadiscomama and Harrogate, I began to wonder if girls just listen better than boys, especially at this age.
Since our return to CU Land, I've been thinking about this question a lot, primarily because some days I am literally at my wit's end. When Wild Man doesn't listen, for whatever reason, I find myself losing my patience, as does Archer. We both end up raising our voices, threatening, and taking things away all in an attempt to get Wild Man to do what we're asking. We've tried a reward system, and that has worked with some success. But we both think that at 4 1/2 there are some things Wild Man should be able to do without a reward--like getting dressed and brushing his teeth. So at the end of most days, we're both annoyed with our child, and we're both feeling like horrible parents. We've talked about this endlessly, and we've tried various things, including explaining consequences, giving warnings, etc. No matter what we try it seems like we end up raising our voices and threatening, and in turn, Wild Man is now raising his voice at Bear. So we've only succeeded in teaching him to yell at his little brother. I feel like what we're doing just isn't working. And, while Archer would argue that I'm overreacting, I feel like we're failing as parents, at least in this particular area. Moreover, despite some research on the topic, I'm left with lots of questions and virtually no answers. Are boys different than girls (which, ultimately, really isn't the point)? What techniques are more effective helping boys learn to listen? How can we help Wild Man and Bear to focus and listen without resorting to yelling and time outs? Or are we simply expecting too much from our children, Wild Man especially?
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Um, seriously?
I've spent the afternoon reading what was once (and still is by many) considered to be THE source on slavery in the American South. While it has been helpful in helping me better understand the relative frequency of marriage ceremonies between enslaved individuals, I am astounded by the faulty conclusions the author makes over and over again. Even though the book was written over 30 years ago (but it still widely cited by historians), I cannot believe the number of times the author makes unfounded claims. The author even repeatedly offers compelling evidence to disprove his own points, but then goes on to reaffirm hir own argument. Seriously, if this was considered ground breaking with such faulty argumentation can someone please explain to me why my essays keep getting rejected?
Working
That's what I've been trying to do since we arrived back in CU Land. The weather is unusually warm, so I've been working in my office on campus, which is air conditioned, unlike our townhouse (but our new house does have Central AC!). I'm working on expanding the paper I presented in May, as I received lots of good feedback about my argument. I've been wading through lots of historical sources and trying to historicize the events I'm talking about. I'm not a historian, so finding what I need has been harder than I anticipated. I've spent the better part of the past two days digging for sources on marriage laws during slavery in the U.S. After three trips to the library, I think I now have the sources I need. So I will now go back to work.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Vacation?
Since we've arrived back in CU Land, we've been asked numerous times, "How was your vacation?" And while the answer is, "We had a nice time with our families and friends," I also want to say, "Visiting family is not a vacation." Here are some updates to reiterate that point.
- I attended 2 doctor's appointments with my mom and took her to have an MRI. The facial tics that I wrote about before are most likely a side-effect of one of her medications, which she is no longer taking. Her MRI showed no problems, which is good. I now have her permission to speak to her neurologist without her present.
- Wild Man had his first sleepover--with his 5-year-old cousin J. He had a blast, but Yetta was mightily upset because the sleepover meant she got one less night with him.
- Bear discovered the joys of the ocean, but his afraid of my dad for reasons I'm not entirely certain I can explain.
- I spent lots of time with my sister-in-law, Aunt J. We vented about being outsiders in the family, but we also just had fun. Pita commented on the time we spent together, which meant she was unhappy that we didn't include her.
- I was able to see my BF from high school and college twice, which is rare thing indeed. I was very, very happy to get to hang out with her so much.
- I had many conversations with my parents about selling their house and moving closer to her sisters. I'm not sure I made any headway at all.
- None of the homes we stayed at (with the exception of the home of our grad school friends who now live in Home State) were remotely child proofed. Bear almost fell down more staircases than I care to count. Being constantly vigilant to ensure he didn't injure himself or destroy my mom's or Yetta's countless knick knacks was exhausting for both of us.
- I tried to have a conversation with Archer's brother, you know, just because. After getting a series of monosyllabic answers, I gave up. To be fair, I don't think Archer got much more than that out of him either.
- Yetta was very displeased that we not only saw friends on our way to Home State but that we elected to stop overnight to see more friends on our way to CU Land. Because you know, both side trips took time away from her.
- We're already being interrogated about our plans for Christmas.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
We're back . . .
in CU Land. We've been home since Friday afternoon, after an arduous trek north. Two and a half days in the car is not fun for anyone.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Home State
Archer, the boys, and I are coming to the end of our visit to Home State, and while I do have lots to write, I don't have much time. I will say it has been a good visit, mostly. I'm still processing somethings, but in the meantime, I thought I'd share a few pictures.
Wild Man holding the baby
Bear playing at Yetta's, wearing his
Spiderman hat and shark rain boots
Wild Man enjoying one of the many great
fountains in our home city
A giant tortoise at the serpentarium
Wild Man holding the baby alligator at the serpentarium
Bear enjoying the beach
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