Summer Childcare

Yesterday.... I had about 3.5 hours of actual childcare.  Plus another hour in which Tiny Boy zoomed with his grandmother.

In the Before this would have been laughable.  But it's more help than I've had in the three months of stay-at-home.  It was amazing. 

It turns out--and I knew this, but still--in a two hour stint I can do more than double the work I can do in one, because one just isn't long enough to get into it in any depth (what others would call "flow").  I had time to shift locations (in and out).  I had time to work on two different projects.  I had time to take a walk without feeling like I was just abandoning my kid in front of the TV.

I'm hoping this plan will take us through the summer.  Two hours is camp LG; they made a schedule (it includes biking and sports, science projects, baking, art/music).  Ideally in the afternoons for two hours he will be with a teen who lives two doors down.  Outside.  Socially distanced.

I have to say while I'm a bit freaked out by the connections the teen has (three siblings, who are all seeing friends in a semi-distanced way) at this point I'm less worried about the virus than I am both Tiny Boy's and my mental health.  This isn't just about 'productivity.'  I just can't do it anymore and be anything resembling a "good" mother.

I know I've said this before, but this is an instance of the fundamental disconnect between what partnered parents call "parenting solo" for a short time and actually being a single parent.  I haven't had a break from childcare duties in three months, other than the hour/day provided by LG or what is afforded by the TV and Tiny Boy's semi-regular zoom calls (during which he will still call me to talk to him).

I might just be talking myself into this arrangement here, because I really am a bit freaked out.  But for the moment--unless cases spike in my area (our state is down to 100-200/day right now, and hardly any in my area)--the risk of COVID is so much smaller than the REALITY that both Tiny Boy and I need outside intervention.

Thoughts?

Brought to You by the Sunday Afternoon Kid Sitter

(Note:  This post was drafted on Sunday, thus the title.  Then the reality of the week hit and I didn't post it.  Pretend it's a lovely Sunday afternoon, okay?)

*

I am sitting at a high top table in the Starbucks near campus, finally sitting down with a printed calendar and a pencil to make a week-by-week plan for sabbatical.  This, two weeks in. 

The first two weeks involved a fair amount of reading, TV watching, going to the gym, prepping for my interview (this took much longer than I anticipated), and assorted admin type tasks (such as letters of rec).  I’ve deferred or said no to a few others (a student asked for a letter; I said I could do it if the deadline is after Feb 7 [so three weeks out] and this actually works.  Good for her for thinking ahead!  On the other hand, I said I wasn’t willing to help a student “revise” some class work for a campus writing contest.  One, it seems horribly unethical as I will end up reading submissions in that category, and two, WTF.  I just don’t get the sort of entitlement involved in students thinking that professors—from previous semesters, no less—should serve as unpaid editors.  If I was teaching and holding office hours, I’d be happy to sit down face to face to talk about this sort of thing.  But SABBATICAL.)

So anyway, I’m sitting in the Starbucks, and I actually think I found a drink that works for me:  decaf coconut milk macchiato.  The coconut milk is fairly subdued and won’t give me a belly ache, and I won’t be awake until 1 am.  I have planned a rough architecture of the semester, barring unexpected things (umm, like a job talk).  I still have an hour of childcare.  This feeling is worth paying $12/hr.

Not much else going on.  We are in the market for a matched set of roughly 4-5 month old kittens.  I don’t think I mentioned this, but we did euthanize our old girl two weeks ago.  The vet said something that made everything feel right, which was essentially ‘mother nature wouldn’t let this happen,’ meaning if she weren’t domesticated, she would have died long ago.  We miss her, and our house is quite quiet with only our one cat-who-rarely-meows.  The kids want kittens NOW.  I could go a bit slower.

My interview went well, I think, which has caused a certain amount of angst.  Getting ahead of myself here, but what happens if I am actually offered a new job?  And if I stay, what would actually make me happy?

I’ve been doing reasonably well on my Whole30ish month; I’ve made some exceptions, mostly involving alcohol (cocktails at two friends’ houses and also after my interview and the night we put our cat to sleep).  I’ve figured out that even small amounts of dairy (like the amount of half and half I’d put in coffee) results in a vague headache; fortunately, I also found a non-dairy substitute (Califa brand) that tastes reasonable.  I figure if by the end of the month I stuck with it 80-90% (or, minimally 25 days) that’s great.  My goal isn’t to arbitrarily follow someone else’s rules but (1) gain some control over mindless eating and bad habits, (2) lose a few pounds, (3) feel better.  I’ve definitely accomplished all three.

*

Now it's Friday, and I feel differently about much of the above (have not yet heard about the job, for example, so I'm assuming it's not going to happen).  I did have a productive week, especially considering MLK.  I could be on campus literally all day to day for meetings and talks.  I deliberately decided NOT to attend our dept meeting and another big meeting, because all the relevant stuff I will learn about anyway (that's four hours of my day!).  I am going in for a library session because relevant to my current project, and I need to print a friend's novel.  If it's not helpful, I'll leave!  Working it out as I go.  More soon.

Another Post Brought to You by the Sunday Afternoon Kid-Sitter

Well, I will say that this is the longest I've ever 'tracked' my time in any systematic way.  I'd say I didn't really learn anything--I really didn't learn anything--but I'm going to give it another week in which I look more carefully (that is, 10-15 minute increments, if I can) at the 'mishmash' times with kids.  The one thing I did notice (okay, okay) is that when I'm really in a work groove I don't take breaks. At all. Like, I sat down on Friday to work on a piece of writing and didn't surface for air for another three hours.  

I also think I'm at a stage in my life that although I'd like to say I don't work at all on Saturdays....I need to work a bit on Saturdays.  I did an hour yesterday, of the commenting-on-student-work variety, while we were at the vet (and Tiny Boy was occupied with a tablet) and when I had Tiny Boy and a friend at the park.  The rest of the day I was very much present on my life and didn't really think about work (even though we met a friend-work colleague for an apple picking excursion).  

Right now he's at the park with his kid-sitter.  I've been reading (this is the break) and will shortly turn to the commenting on student writing.  And then get a chicken in the oven.  And an apple crisp.  And vanilla ice cream in the ice cream maker because really it's that good.

Brought to You by the Sunday Afternoon Kid-Sitter

Right now Tiny Boy is with his 'kid-sitter' (his term, really: he's not a BABY, and 'childcare provider' is not a word a seven-year-old is going to use) at the school park.

I have taken the past two hours to read for one of my classes (yay), respond to some email, pay my bills.  I will momentarily turn to the reading for the other class, and toward the end of her shift (5:30) will throw something in the oven for dinner.  Probably just roasted veggies to go along with a rotisserie chicken (though it's hot for roasted veg.  hmmm.)

My ability to go into the week feeling okay very much hinges on these 2.5-3 hours on Sunday.  It also means that on Saturday, I do not need to think about work at all.  

*

Some other things going on in my world:  I am reading the sequel to The Handmaid's Tale on kindle app, which is working out okay.  Although I much prefer actual books in my hands, the time that I have to read for fun is really the time I sit on the floor in Tiny Boy's room in the dark, which means reading on a device.  I am not sure how I feel about this much-hyped book.  Let me finish and get back to you.

I am looking forward to the return of regularly-scheduled-network TV.  The shows I am looking forward to are The Good Place, which I watch with LG, also Will & Grace, which I watch with LG, and Madam Secretary, which I do not watch with LG.

I am, as the say, on the market .  I doubt anything will come of it, as assoc prof jobs in my field are quite unlikely, and also I don't actually want to move.  But I would like a raise.  And this is mostly how one goes about it.  Of course, my outgoing chair knows this and also advocated for me for a raise to the dean because salary compression and all that.  So we'll see...

*

And now back to the class prep!

Ramblings about Paid Childcare and My Tiny Tyrant

This is the last thing I should be doing.  It's fifteen minutes into a nap that could end anywhere, including five minutes from now, but probably another fifteen to twenty.  Not a lot of time.  I have already scarfed down lunch and put a few groceries away.  What I should be doing is either cleaning the house in preparation for a "meeting" with a couple colleagues on Friday or, you know, writing and reading.  Instead, I'm in bed next to Tiny Boy (aka The Tiny Tyrant) typing this, both because I'm exhausted and because I'm hoping my presence will keep him sleeping longer.  I'd gladly stay here all afternoon if it means I can get a decent nap out of him.

Today is the first weekday I haven't had paid childcare in a while; our good babysitter, who needs a better nickname, is taking the rest of this week and next to study for finals and go on a trip with her family.  And let me tell you I miss her already.  Even if Tiny Boy does his 40 minute nap routine, when she's around the endless rocking/feeding cycles are split between two people.  I'll nurse him, and if he doesn't go down, she takes over in the rocking chair.  Or takes him for a walk if the weather's appropriate.  Or whatever.  And, magically, if he sleeps and I go to campus, the dishes and laundry are done when I come home.  She ironed for me yesterday.  And while the house is still a disaster, that mostly has to do with LG's clutter and my lack of time to do a deep clean (the kitchen floor is just gross).  That is, she makes the household run as smoothly as it can right now.  Tiny Boy adores her.  LG adores her.  I adore her.  She's all chatter about finals and the craziness of the university, and it's wonderful, really, hearing that student perspective again, because I'm not a professor to her and not really old enough to be her mother, either, and she feels almost like a younger cousin or something.  Did I tell you, on her first day, she left saying I learned a lot today.  Yeah, I picked the right kid to watch my kid.

*

So Tiny Boy is killing me this week.  Granted, we're both getting over being sick.  But he won't let me put him down.  He doesn't want to play in any of the baby containment devices around the house.  He doesn't mind sitting up on his own, but that requires constant supervision (within arm's reach) as he tips over easily still, and my entire house has wood floors.  Today I just had to let him wail for 10 minutes while I took a shower and made a half-assed attempt to shave my legs (it's supposed to get up to 80 degrees, so the shorts are coming out).  Then it took about twenty of nursing and rocking to get him to calm down.  And then he took a ten minute nap.  And I rocked him.  And he slept for another twenty minutes.  And within five minutes of putting him down he was awake.  Days like this I literally spend more time getting him to fall asleep than he does sleeping.  My left arm aches all the time.  My left hip is out of whack again.  And when people talk about motherhood being exhausting, I don't know if that's what they mean.  Physically brutalizing work.  I ended up in physical therapy when LG was around 18 months because of this stuff, and poor posture likely caused by c-section plus babyholding.  The result was neck pain, a tingling hand, and chronic daily migraine.  I really don't want to go down that road again.

Don't get me wrong:  I love Tiny Boy.  I would not trade him for anything, even if it means I don't sleep well for the next five years or more.  But this shit is hard work.