Family Time / Weekends

I haven't written a weekend-focused post in a while, so I thought I would, as a sort of follow up to some of the more temporally-oriented parts of my last post, as they connect to the comment thread over at SHU's. (What I took to be the gist of it is married mothers whose spouses are absent for various reasons [including the very legitimate work-related reasons!] leaving them alone with kids for long unscheduled hours at night and/or on weekends.  They are in practical terms 'parenting solo' but are not single parents.  Their situation is temporary.)

Like everything else, weekends change as kids age.  Mine are 17 and 9.  We are long past the nap phase.  We're also mostly past doing things 'as a family' most weekends, partly because of their ages and age discrepancy and partly because of the pandemic.  But mostly what changed is my expectation that weekends SHOULD involve family activity (which is to say, a large outing planned by mom!).   Here's what this weekend looked like:

I am always up by 7 to feed cats (if I don't wake up naturally, Tiny Boy gets me up, as this is his screen-start time.  I had some early migraine symptoms so took tylenol and imitrex, got a cup of coffee, got him some breakfast, went back to bed with a book.  LG slept until about 9, when I had Tiny Boy get off screens.  He'd also come down with what I assumed was a cold but what could be read as COVID.  LG required a TB test for EMT training course, so LG registered both kids online for urgent care (teens are great with online tasks!).  That was the morning.  Tiny Boy was COVID negative.  He still felt blah enough that he wasn't going to attend a friend's outdoor birthday party in the afternoon.  I left the kids at home and went to Whole Foods where, for the first time, there were more unmasked than masked individuals, which is the subject of another post.  Both kids helped unpack groceries; Tiny Boy continued his puttering which had now evolved into watching Bob Ross.  LG was doing whatever LG does in the bedroom (often a combo of crocheting/knitting, something on a screen, and reading for class).  At some point in the afternoon Tiny Boy felt okay enough to float around in the inflatable pool while I read outside.  At some point I went on enough short walks to get in my 10+K steps.  We had some local take out and watched Raya and the Last Dragon (all of us!  even LG!).  So, Saturday was very screen heavy.

Sunday we'd planned a beach day.  We go to a beach halfway between my mom's house and mine, so we could meet up.  It's a two-hour drive.  LG slept while Tiny Boy (who was feeling better) and I made a list and got our stuff ready.  When LG woke up, I had them order some lunch we could take to the beach; LG is an expert at ordering takeout.  Picked up the food, got gas, got on the highway.  Lost time due to our exit literally not existing due to construction and no detour sign.  Eventually we got to the beach by going south enough to turn back north.  UGH.  Lovely day at the beach!  LG mostly read inside a tent but the rest of us went on or near the water.  Ice cream from the concession stand.  Long drive home again due to rerouting.  At some point LG said "wait, you said we'd be home at six, why does the GPS say we'll be home at seven?"  Eventually it became clear that teen had tentative unspoken teen plans that were now spoken.  So we got home at 7, Tiny Boy and I ate leftovers while LG went out with friends.  LG got home at 9 when I was putting Tiny Boy to bed.  We talked a bit and I got in bed to crash.

So there was a lot of screens.  Also a fair amount of together time.  Not as much of the domestic chores as I would have liked to have done.  But this week Tiny Boy is at camp from 9-4, and LG is gone from 7 to 5, so I have the house mostly to myself.  It's pretty sweet, until I get the call from camp that says he's not feeling well come pick him up...

*

Anyway....have questions or want me to talk about anything specific?  Comments thread, or gwinne (at) yahoo.

Single Parent or Parenting Solo

I am writing this post on a Saturday morning.  The teen is in bed on their phone; the 9-year-old is downstairs watching a guy play Minecraft via youtube*  I have my Saturday migraine, which may or may not be related to the cocktail I had last night (gin, which doesn't usually cause a problem?) but more likely the humidity.  I will shortly get up and go to the grocery store, with an eye toward BEACH FOOD as we are making our first excursion to the lake tomorrow.  I include this context because it's a snapshot of my life, which feels so much better than it did a few months ago.

&

Tiny Boy's friend came up to me the other day and asked, "why does Tiny Boy have to go to so many summer camps?"  I said, "you have four adults who can take care of you [divorced and remarried parents, with a 50/50 co-parenting arrangement].  Tiny Boy has one."  I told Tiny Boy that if he goes to camp I won't have to work when he's home (i.e. he will have a happier more attentive parent), unlike all the times that I was in zoom meetings while he stood next to me and literally tapped on my arm. 

&

I have been a single mother now for seventeen years.  There have been really hard times and not so hard times.  Pandemic aside, I'm mostly in a not-so-hard-time, which I attribute to older kids, ADHD meds (for Tiny Boy), and regular sleep (for all, but esp. for me).  When I became a single mother I was very much adamant that single mothers by choice and single mothers by chance (unplanned pregnancy, divorce, widowhood, absent spouses, etc.) are fundamentally different.  The choice matters because (a) there isn't a sense of loss and/or resentment at the foundation of the family structure and (b) there's never been another way of doing things.  

The pandemic laid bare another way of understanding this, which has to do with time.  Is there another person, like a spouse, who lives in the house and can take care of your kids even for short periods of time?  Is there a person who lives in another house, like a divorced co-parent, who can take your kids even for short periods of time?  See, if you are truly a single parent, it's ALL YOU ALL THE TIME. From what I have observed is that actual single parenting is temporally harder but emotionally easier than 'parenting solo.'  Based solely on the experiences of actual humans I know in my community (and not humans I know only via the internet) I am tempted to say that the problem is marriage and traditional gender expectations, especially among women who consider themselves feminist in every other context.  

&

What is an actual problem, and what is a problem created by not living up to one's own expectations?

&

I started thinking about this post in response to a query in the comment thread over on SHU's blog, regarding hard times on 'solo parenting' weekends for mamas with littles.  And those times are hard.  I remember the worst times were when I thought the kid would nap and the kid wouldn't nap and then how could I get my work done and how could I get through a day only talking to little people?  My main solution?  Childcare, preferably paid because that takes out the relationship dynamic. But it can come in other forms, too, like playdates, drop in childcare at the gym, older siblings, grandparents, etc.  The thing that sucked the most earlier in the pandemic was that I had FINALLY FIGURED ALL THIS OUT AND HAD A GOOD GROOVE GOING AND IT WAS TAKEN AWAY.  So it's summer and there are two vaccinated humans in my house so the unvaccinated person is going to camp in his mask or hanging out with a vaccinated babysitter (oops, sorry, Tiny Boy:  KIDSITTER!).

&

This has gotten long and somewhat feisty so I would like to open up conversation.  If you are a single mama by choice or chance or in an angsty parenting solo phase for whatever reason, I will happily problem-solve alongside you.  Just drop me a line here, or reach out via the email gwinne (at) yahoo (dot) com.  Hugs and warm fuzzies.

* This makes me all kinds of crazy but this show entered my house without my knowledge and now it is hard to eliminate.  Also Tiny Boy doesn't understand the nuance of why THIS show makes me crazy but other similar ones do not.  A work-in-progress.

If You Want Life Advice Ask a Single Mom

I decided to jump back into my own blog because I was leaving a really long comment on SHU's about Cal Newport, whose work I have been reading off and on for about a decade.  For some reason (he's a dude?) he irks some of you who read around in these parts.  He doesn't push my buttons, while other time management type writers who shall remain nameless induce nothing short of rage.  Anyway.

This is not advice.  What works for one person does not work for another person.  So much varies (health, job, kids, spouse, socio economic class, etc).  I get that.  So let me say a bit about how things go in my world (if you are just joining:  single mother with two children, currently aged 8 and 16, professor of humanities at a research intensive (R1) institution).  Anyway.

Say the most important thing (not the most urgent thing, the most important thing) to my work and also/therefore my mental health is WRITING.  Say I have only an hour a day of childcare* and only then because my teenager has agreed, somewhat reluctantly, to provide it (see April-June 2020).  Should I use that time to go to the grocery store?  No.  Should I use that time to check email?  No.  Should I be on a zoom call?  Probably not.**  Should I take a walk?  Maybe.  Should I write?  Yup.  But if there's a reason I can't (like I didn't sleep or have a migraine and can't think straight, then maybe take that walk or read or sleep or do something that supports future writing).  Do I answer the phone or texts during this time?  No.  Absolutely no.  Do I talk to my kid during this time?  No, I really try not to, not unless it rises to the level of actual emergency that teenager cannot possibly handle.  Sometimes that means I need to work in the car (yes, for real), although I have a lovely home office.

I'm not saying this is easy.  I'm not saying it works all the time.  I'm writing this largely as a reminder to myself, when things get much harder in August, because they will.  DEEP WORK FIRST.

*

Deep work is hard.  It needs to be supported with other behaviors and is more challenging due to particular life circumstances.***  And from what I've read of Cal's work, I really admire his ability to do so (I have absolutely no idea about his childcare arrangement with his wife, and it might in fact be he's a patriarchal asshole who doesn't do much, but I'm not going to assume).  It's a lot easier to look at someone else's life and dole out advice than it is to look at your own (you, the general you here, and I'm speaking for and to myself, too).

Some things that I do (and don't do) that facilitate deep work, when I compare my life to others I know:

• I prioritize sleep.  After years as a chronic insomniac, sleep is my priority.  Right now I am staying up relatively late (~11:30) but also sleeping relatively late (~7:00-7:30).  I have high-ish sleep needs, and I know I am no good if I don't get enough sleep;
• I'm not on social media (except for occasionally cycling through twitter), and I don't really text (actually text threads, esp those involving multiple people, make me batshit crazy);
• I walk, and when I walk, I'm mostly not listening to podcasts or music; either I'm "multitasking" by talking on the phone or I'm thinking (about stuff I might be writing or teaching, or...)
• I limit the amount of time I'm on email and/or schedule email checking (better about this at certain times of year than others, to be sure);
• I do deep/meaningful work in the morning before I lose energy to other things;
• I know I have very limited time/energy and try to prioritize accordingly.

There's probably other stuff, but this is what comes to mind.  My biggest challenge is Tiny Boy's need to TALK INCESSANTLY, and if kids are learning from home again in the fall, we will revisit.  (Next up in therapy:  impulse control!!)  Right now, as long as I can get in reading/writing/walking daily I'm pretty happy.  Now I am being beckoned to the inflatable pool to play "water park."

* By this, I mean any direct care that is not provided by directly you.  That could be a spouse who resents you.  It could be school.  It could be a babysitter.  It could be your snarky teenager, and yes you will pay for that later.  Not saying it's ideal....but most people have more childcare  safety net than they acknowledge compared to single parents.

** When I was down to one hour/day, I did not schedule any meeting via zoom during that one hour a day but used it for actual work.  Tiny Boy watched a lot of TV while I zoomed.

*** Some things that would make deep work more challenging:  larger childcare burden and/or, very young children, less $$, chronic pain, chronic insomnia.  

A Day in the Life

I've begun (again) a time-tracking exercise of sorts, mostly because I'm curious of how I think I spend my time is actually how I spend my time.  Here's what today looked like:

6:15 wake up, try to fall back to sleep; listen to LG puttering around
7:00 alarm goes off (I need to set in for LG); get dressed in 'workout' clothes; get things together
7:30 leave the house; drop off LG; drop off Tiny Boy, including dressing him at daycare and reading books
8:30 home; coffee and breakfast while writing proposal (administrative nonsense)
9:30 work on book project/index (due Oct 1!!!!)
10:30 painter shows up/clean kitchen so she can work
11:00 email triage
11:30 walk, shower, dress for class, quick lunch
12:15 drive to campus; class
2:45 back to my office; email triage, stare into space
3:00 class prep for Thurs, interrupted by my dept chair stopping by, but this saved me an email to her
4:15 stop at computer store on the way to parking garage; pick up Tiny Boy
5:00 home; check in with LG; water plants, call mom, cook dinner
5:45-7:30 kid time, including dinner, family lunch-making, ice cream trip, dance party with Tiny Boy
7:30 protracted bedtime rituals and nonsense
8:20 sit in rocking chair and play candy crush/write this
8:45 sleeping Tiny Boy!

From here on out will involve some time with LG, tucking her in at 9:30, tucking myself in with Lunesta, a book (for class) and half an episode of Scandal, hopefully asleep by 10:30*.  Really, today held no surprises.  But predictably, the requests for me to do things are piling up (travel request form, call for undergraduate research proposals, multiple meetings) and despite quitting (ha!) I still find that I am asked about a lot of details related to former admin job because, no surprise, there's literally no one else to do it.  Still, my stress level is way down.  We'll see how long this lasts.



* usually Lunesta knocks me out in half an hour; if I don't take my full dose (as I tried the other night) I was awake until 3:00 am.  ugh.

Time Use and the Single Mama

(or, a post vaguely in response to Xyk's request for me to talk about being a single mom)

I feel like I've written about this before, but I very much appreciate the line in Brigid Schulte's (maligned in some circles) Overwhelmed, in which she characterizes single mothers as "time starved."

I'm the first to acknowledge that not all single mothers are the same.  I have resources that a mom working hourly at the Meijer does not.  But I don't have the possibility of shipping my kid off to her dad's house for a weekend, as do some of my divorced mama friends.

Yes, we all have 168 hours but the responsibilities that go into those hours, and the possibilities of outsourcing (paid or to other family) vary widely.  What I fit into my time (in the broad sense):

• doing my job (currently involves teaching, writing, editing, mentoring, event planning, advising)
• taking care of my kids (over the summer I've been dropping off around 8:30 and picking up around 4:30, sometimes later, sometimes earlier; during the academic year drop off will be 8:00 and pick up will vary, probably closer to 5:00.  And while that might be similar to many working parents, the fact is I'm responsible ALL THE TIME.  As my therapist liked to say, "if you go down, the boat sinks")
• taking care of my house (I do not do an excessive amount of domestic work.  I am contemplating outsourcing because I think I could afford it like once/month and the house could stand to be cleaner.  But also consider in this category everything that goes along with home-ownership.  We currently do not have enough towel rods in the bathroom because they fell down and drilling holes is not in my skill set.  This means hiring someone.  This is a project.  There are many projects.  They fall to the bottom of my list.  The kids do some minor chores but only with huge amounts of supervision and/or nagging)
• caring for two cats (theoretically LG is responsible for cat feeding but in practical terms she hasn't done so all summer; this will hopefully change next week, but she never does the litter box)

Despite this, I do manage to find pockets of time for leisure (I hate the word 'self-care' probably as much as Ana hates tea).  I've been getting massages about every 5-6 weeks.  I go to yoga once/week, though admittedly that is the first thing I cut when I face a time crunch (mostly because of the time of day of the particular class I attend).  I watch TV almost daily (30-45 min, before bed).  I walk 10,000 steps every day, some of that strategically and some of it because I'm running around.  I peruse a handful of blogs and glance at my twitter feed (mostly during the time I am sitting in the rocker while Tiny Boy falls asleep).   I am not now, nor have I ever been, on Face,book.  I read, which is also work (I rarely read something that doesn't make it onto a class syllabus) but still pleasure.  If I see friends, it is usually with kids in tow (other single mom friends) though rarely a lunch-date with a colleague.  I'd be more inclined at this stage to contemplate going out at night but there would need to be a really good reason.  Really good.  Because I'm an introverted homebody who doesn't sleep if she has real human contact after 9:00 pm.

I think mostly I've achieved something resembling 'balance.'  But it's still technically summer.  Talk to me in a week...

The Single Mom Thing

When I chose single motherhood in my twenties it was a thing to explain.  It also felt--and sometimes still feels--radical.  Anti-heteronormative.  Anti-patriarchal.  And because I was a fertility patient with a diagnosis (beyond just a need for donor sperm) that fact only solidified that I wanted to be a mother for the sake of having a child (as opposed to the related desire to have a child with a partner, as an expression of that union).

My yoga teacher--mother of five, recently widowed--asked me the other day if I liked being a mom.  I said yes, of course I said yes.  But really it's more complicated than that.

*

I love my kids.  And 'being a mother' is an essential part of my adult identity (I mean, I started trying to get pregnant more than fourteen years ago, just a year after I started my first tenure track job).  But there are many moments I do not like 'mothering' as a verb.  Let's talk about when it's 8:14 in the morning and we need to leave for camp like NOW so I can get to a 9:00 meeting and LG is wandering around looking for her flip-flop which, it turns out, Tiny Boy hid in a basket of picture books.  Or we're at the grocery store and Tiny Boy will not stay in the cart but wants to run around gathering samples and has a need to get pink cowboy/girl boots*  But of course there are also plenty of moments that mothering as a verb is also really satisfying, like the Gilmore Girls nights I have with LG, or reading to Tiny Boy before school.

In this respect, I don't think that being a single mother is in any way profoundly different from being a partnered mother.  What's different is the cushion.  I can't leave the house and let someone else deal with the crazy.  I can't run out to pick up that thing I forgot at the store.  (Just recently I've started walking around the neighborhood with LG and Tiny  Boy home alone; she's twelve, she can usually hold things together for 15 minutes, esp. if there's screen time involved.)  And while partnered parents parenting 'solo' for a weekend or a week or even longer might feel some of that, the difference is for real single parents--esp. those of the variety that don't have a co-parent anywhere in the mix [i.e. from divorce]--that's a permanent feature.

That is, single motherhood requires planning**.  And the lack of a cushion/safety net adds a certain amount of stress.  (See for example Vomit Fest March 2016).  As the kids have gotten older, this has gotten better (LG can fend more for herself, and also be more helpful, and Tiny Boy's needs are less immediate than that of an infant/toddler).  But also there's more to plan (he's in swimming lessons; she's in ice skating; two different schools with things to keep track of, etc).

My goal for this academic year is to try to build in more cushion, although I'm not quite sure how to do that.  This summer I've been working probably about 25 hours a week on actual work, which is not a whole lot.  (But because it's been real work (books! not admin!) it's been meaningful, and arguably I've accomplished a lot.)  But when classes start, and the admin thing picks up*** and LG has all her stuff going, well, yeah, I need a plan...

This will probably be the first in a series.  More soon.  Now I need to work.



* yes, a recent acquisition.  LG had them at that age, too.  Only she didn't wear hers with sporty shorts and a Grad School brand t-shirt.

**I think that generally speaking working motherhood requires planning.  I think  this is probably a difference of quantity, rather than quality.

*** I am quitting after fall.  Need to work out details with new dept chair.

Update from the Land of Overwhelm

First off...noting some traffic on the blog circa THE DARK DAYS of 2010-11.  Say hi.  Ask questions. Happy to help out or send you where you should be...my labels aren't always the best.  Leave suggestions in the suggestion box.

*

So first LG was really sick, and then Tiny Boy was moderately sick, and now I have a cold, which is just enough to feel meh and keep me in bed today, which is thankfully a day I do not have to get dressed and deal with humans directly, other than getting the tiny one to and from daycare.

This morning he woke up and was asking about pie (what the FUCK?) at 5:30 or so and kept me awake and then fell back to sleep.  Which wasn't great because I had to wake him at 7:40 and stuff him in a carseat so LG was not late for school.  Got him dressed and brush teeth in the daycare bathroom.

I blame the Singulair.  He was also talking about blue spiders in his dreams and crying in his sleep. Anyhoo...

*

I continue to have more work than time.  But apparently this is the post-tenure me, vs the pre-tenure me, and mostly I'm not anxious about all this.  I'm just plugging away at it.  But man I did not need those two urgent semi-secret committee meetings.  I have grading to do!  Books to read!  Classes to prep!  Grants to write! And the email and meeting scheduling....argh!

On Thursday I have an administrator type meeting with other administrators, and then I have a coffee meeting with a colleague from another unit who is a good resource for many things, and then I have a coffee meeting with The Artist and a collaborator to figure out a conference thing we're doing next month.  And I'm not really entirely sure how I feel about my infertility life and my professional life hooking up that way, but this seems the direction things are headed, esp. with the publication of the book in Nov (it's been the direction for almost a year...my psychic life is slow to catch up).

*

Middle school is turning out to be AWESOME other than the leaving the house at 7:45 thing.  LG is ice skating outside of school, and doing math and STEM clubs in school, and a teen advisory board for the library.  She reads a ton.  She draws anime.  She's mostly happy except when she's glaring at me from under her dark floppy bangs, which I make fun of as often as possible.  I look at her a lot lately and wonder how it's possible my little 6 lb baby is now 80 lbs of PERSON who is so much like me in many ways and entirely her own self in others.

I just looked at the clock and she'll be home in about 90 minutes, so I really should get back to those books...

I'm a Single Mother by Choice

I've been reading reviews of a new book by a memoirist/essayist, who is a single mother adamantly NOT by choice.  And while I'm excited to read this book--she's a fantastic writer and a very cool person--I have a feeling the plot (if we can think of lives as having plots) is going to annoy the hell out of me, as it's centrally concerned with unplanned pregnancy plus being abandoned by her daughter's father and subsequent alcholism.

I have no doubt that it sucks to be in a partnership (marriage or otherwise) that breaks down.  And I also have no doubt that it sucks to end up as a single parent when one hadn't anticipated it, or desired it.  I was raised by a single mother in those circumstances (my parents divorced when I was four, and my mom remarried when I was seven....and was separated again by the time I was twenty).

This is part of the official line of the SMC organization, which highlights (at least it used to, back when I was a member in the early 2000s) the divorce rate as one of the major reasons that SMCs become SMCs.  And indeed, recently a divorced mom of one of LG's school friends said--in the midst of a rant about her ex, who is not a good co-parent for many reasons--"you know, you went about this the right way."

And you know, most of the time I think that's the case.  And the times I don't, well, they fall at those moments that I suspect I'd be stressed even if I did have a partner and/or when I see a father doing doting father things, like wearing a baby carrier at the farmer's market or going to swimming class. That is, I've wanted a partner in the same idyllic sort of way that LG wanted a father as a preschooler; it was clearly a fantasy built on nothing but happy movie images, not anything grounded in real life experience.

Families in all forms are messy and complicated and rarely the stuff of fantasy.  But as I read bits of talk about this memoir I find myself grateful that my life is largely built out of things that I have created, rather than things happening to me.  Infertility--both the social and medical kinds--sucked. But at the end of the day I have the family I wanted...and that's knowledge that my kids have as well.

*

In our next installment:  LG goes to sleepaway camp.  Woohoo!

The Daddy-Daughter Dance and Other Musings on SMChood

I don't think much about being a single mother in a large philosophical way.  Mostly in a practical sort of way.  Like, tonight LG had a thing at school that ended at 7:30 and  her friend's mom graciously offered to bring her home so I didn't have to keep Tiny Boy out that late. (No, that's not essentially an SMC problem but it's a problem I have because I'm an SMC to two kids of very different ages)

But a few weeks ago she was invited to go to the daddy-daughter valentine's dance with her friend and the friend's dad.  I wasn't really angsty about this, or wistful, because really I don't get sappy about some idealized notion of family in which there might have been some daddy figure (if I have a longing, it's for occasional practical help.  and maybe occasional sex).  But it did occur to me that it might meet some need of LG's.  Or it might even make her sad and wistful.

She wasn't.  She went and mostly hung out with her friend and ate pizza and too many treats and put on sparkly tights and traded shoes like the prepubescent girl that she is.

I'm glad.  

Working on the Weekends

I'm not sure why these November posts are largely about work/life balance...suppose it's on my mind.

At the moment, Tiny Boy and LG are watching a movie.  I have potatoes and carrots roasting in the oven.  We just got home from ice skating lessons (where I graded more papers) and a trip to the library, where we picked up said movie, along with a stack of cookbooks for me.

While I don't really like working on weekends, I see working on weekends as a trade off for picking up children "early" compared to some in the daycare set.  (I generally leave to get them around 4:30-4:45, which in practical terms means 5:00-5:15 by the time we reach Tiny Boy.)  Most weekends I work about 4 hours total, spread across either paid childcare, a "timeshare" with A., ice skating lessons, TV watching, and/or a trip to Burger King (where they can run in the habitrail thing).  I imagine there will be a time not so far away when Tiny Boy can play on his own without me worrying that he's going to get into too much toddler trouble.  We seem to be entering, slowly, a new era, as residual babyness dissipates.

Over time I've found that hard and fast rules--i.e. I don't work at nights or weekends or whatever--really don't work for me.  I am mindful that I don't let work encroach (too much) on family life.  I don't do email or anything really unless the kids are otherwise occupied.  I try to minimize returns to campus at night (ends up being about 4 times per semester).  I never do anything Saturday nights.  But if I don't get something done over the weekend--even when I don't teach on Mondays--I head
into the week a bit too frazzled.

5 papers left to grade, which psychologically is much better than 7.  Yay for ice skating.

Ugh

This week I was FINALLY going to get some real writing done on my book manuscript.

And I woke up Tuesday morning vomiting.  Went to class because I thought I was feeling better and walked out of class (at the end, thankfully) and threw up next to the river.  Picked up LG and told her she was watching her brother, I didn't care what they did as long as they ate dinner and were safe.  She actually did it.  She gave him a bowl of noodles and some "ice" (sorbet) and they took out every single toy in the house and watched the farm movie (Baby Einstein) over and over and over while she gave him a ride on his bike in the living room.  While I crashed in bed and listened.  I could not have been more impressed.

Of course she started throwing up around 3:00 am.  Stayed home from school on Wed.  I got a friend/colleague to cover my class, brought Tiny Boy to daycare, and puttered around the house with LG.  I actually TOOK A NAP.

Everyone was back to their respective educational institutions yesterday but I still feel like I was hit by a truck.    Dropped kids off Thursday morning and came home and went back to sleep before heading to campus.  In a t-shirt.  (With a skirt and kicky sandals, but still.)  But if you can't wear a t-shirt with a pun as a tenured director of a writing program, well, where can you?

Thanks to a combo of Benadryl (for the runny nosed Boy) and half an ambien (for the mama) we slept pretty well last night.  8:00-6:30 for him (he woke and nursed only twice), 9:30-6:30 for me (minus the boobing).

But not feeling much better today.  Grading papers and doing some reading in bed this morning, before LG comes home (last day, half day).  Decided it was worth skipping usual Friday yoga to rest and catch up.

Next week has to be better, right?

Boo-Hoo Baby

When Tiny Boy woke me at 5:00 I didn't feel quite right.  And indeed, upon sitting down with him in the rocking chair, I promptly deposited him back in his crib and ran to the bathroom to hurl.

Huh.

You know how much fun it is having a baby suck on you when all you want to do is throw up?  So from 5:00 until LG woke at 7:00 he was in and out of the crib, I was in and out of the bathroom, and bodily fluids abound.  Cancelled an appointment I had at 8:30, made LG get ready for school, and went downstairs to get ready to leave.

Only to have the ROOFERS knock on my door.  It's hard to have a sick day when there's constant pounding in your skull, and I don't mean the metaphorical sort.

So because I haven't puked since around 8:00 I think I'm going to put on actual human clothes--as opposed to my yoga pants and a t-shirt I've had longer than I've had LG--and go to my office.

Argh.

In Which My Selves Collide

I have a date to go dancing with my 27-year-old friend next week.  My idea.

But when we started talking about the logistics...like what time does one go dancing?...well, it seems my hypothetical desire to hang out and be unencumbered clashes wildly with the self who knows that she can't really go to bed past 11:00, much less be OUT IN THE WORLD at that time.

As LG is wont to say, pathetic.

I really do want to indulge my inner 27-year-old...just with no consequences to my actual 40-year-old self.  Hmmm.

Short Cuts, Time Savers, Tips, Etc.

I am still getting a hang of this whole working single mama of two thing.

I have to say that while I am less tired than I worried about (given that Tiny Boy wakes a minimum of 3 times per night, and sometimes as frequently as every hour), I have a lot of trouble finding enough hours in the day to do what needs doing.  Part of the problem is that I spend about 9-10 hours in bed every night.  Not sleeping, mind you, but resting.  I'm guessing that's a very fractured 7-8ish hours of actual sleep at best, plus plenty of nursing/snuggling time.  That is, I can do very little at night before I crash.

I'm working on finding shortcuts, outsourcing (I'm in the process of hiring a student "housekeeper" for a couple hours per week), and other time savers.  Limiting my email/internet time.  Going grocery shopping while LG's at gymnastics class.  Cooking mostly by way of the crockpot, and only foods that have less than 15 minutes prep time.  Buying more stuff via Amazon (I recently got a free Prime membership) so I don't need to go to Target or places like that. Using a timer when I sit down to grade.

What are your timesavers and tips, readers?

Lessons in Time Management (Redux)

(or, another post brought to you by my hands-free pumping bra)

I find myself thinking of Dr. Gorgeous lately.  Not in the post-infertility sort of way.  In the early 40s working mama sort of way.  See, it has occurred to me that I don't really have many role models.  My female senior colleagues either don't have kids, or their kids are so much older (like, undergraduates and beyond) that we're not on the same planet.  And my friends, well, they're as harried as I am or more so.  Dr. Gorgeous--at least from an outsider's perspective--has her shit together.  Like, she runs her own very successful practice in its multiple locations and lectures at the med school and has kids and a husband and runs races and manages to show up to work perfectly coiffed even for transfers at 7:30 in the morning (I mean, there was that one day her nail polish was chipped and I've seen her in exercise garb because she forgot her skirt, but you get the gist).  Why can't I be like that?  Or maybe, if you don't know me very well, do I look like that, too?

*

Yesterday was pretty awesome in that regard.  I'd gone to bed early, using the motto that got me through my PhD comps ("if you're not working, you need to be sleeping"), got the kids out the door without any drama by 8:20, was seated at my desk just before 9:00; dealt with some email, made a handout for class; taught; pumped, dealt with various crises over email, ate lunch; noticed I was getting squirrely so took a walk around my building (which is large enough, with four "wings," that it feels like a fucking airport); came back, met with a couple students; taught my class; picked up kids, fed them dinner (that I'd cooked the night before), played with them, put them to bed; watched a bit of TV on Hulu and went to bed myself at 9:45.  Woke with Tiny Boy at 12:00ish, 2:00ish, 5:00ish (was that really all?) and for the day at 7:15.  Mama?  Mama?  MIL.  (stage directions:  baby flapping wildly in the crib)

*   

I went back to my old therapist last week.  Felt like I needed to check in.  I made the appointment back in early December, when all the insanity with my sister went down and I was having major anxiety issues (which may or may not have been related to milk let down) and decided it was worth keeping it as a just-in-case.  She said I need to be really efficient.  She said it's all about balance.  Like:  writing this is not a bad use of my time.  None of that is particularly earth-shattering, but it was nice to hear someone else say it.

*

I am keeping a mental list of the stuff I'm not doing that I "should" do or that I'd "like" to do and trying to figure out ways to accomplish (or not).  (1) Decided, once I research it, I'm going to get someone to deep clean my house once a month or so; it's worth the money, at least for a short time.  (2) Much as I should be exercising that's not really something that's going to happen right now, at least not in any sustained way but (3) doing a few yoga poses throughout the day is more than manageable.  (4) I miss painting but I'm not going to carve out time to paint; I will, however, suggest it as an activity that LG and I do on our Fri/Sat time after the boy goes to bed, in lieu of Monopoly or, her favorite activity, "googling about" something, which is generally Harry Potter.  (5) I adore one of my collaborators but there is no way I can talk to her on the phone on a weekly basis, as that's time I would rather be writing toward our project, not yapping about it.  Again.

*

Dealing with random requests from students is my absolute least favorite part of my job.  Because it shouldn't be a part of my job.  Understand, I don't mean my ACTUAL students asking for my time, although I need to be more careful about how I spend it.  I mean shit like random people who have NEVER TAKEN  A CLASS WITH ME email to see if I'd "like" to give them feedback on their work.  That's only slightly more annoying than my FORMER students emailing me PORN they'd like me to read (no, I'm not joking).  If you want my time, come to my office hours.  That's what they're for.

*

Okay, that 15 minutes is up.  Must comment on the poems.  Lots and lots of poems.  Some of them make me want to poke my eyes out with a fork.  Some of them, thankfully, make me feel like my job actually might mean something.

In Which People Are Busybodies

A couple weeks ago a woman I know--her kid is in LG's class--came over to pick up Tiny Boy's infant seat, which she's going to use for the newest addition to her family.  I get rid of old stuff, she gets a carseat, win-win, right?  So we're chatting about nothing much--kid sizes and all that--and she says, "are they related?"  Huh?

I'm thinking, well, no, they're technically not biological siblings but who would ask that?  So I say, "yeah..."  And she says, "I mean, they have different donors, right?"  Umm, again, yes they do.  But who would ask that?  And why?  Just because my son has blue eyes and blondish hair and my daughter does not?  And whoever said I used one donor, much less three, to have my kids?

Then, today, the handyman was here doing a bunch of stuff--including replacing the blinds that prompted the head-whacking incident of July--and he says "I've known you a long time [indeed, he has] and just assumed you were single."  Yes, I say.  "But you have a one-year-old?"  Yes, I say, from the marvels of medical science.  (And in my head:  You know, because no single woman in the history of the universe has even gotten knocked up from sex.)

People are dumb.  But at least I don't have to clean mini-blinds anymore.

Life on Sabbatical

If I were teaching this semester this would be just about midterm.  So I thought I'd take a moment to take stock of things and see how my sabbatical is winding up (or down?).

• Despite the whole NOT SLEEPING thing (not to mention Tiny Boy's surgery that happened the first week of the term, and the aftermath that lasted another following week and then not starting regular full-time daycare until nearly a month in) I've actually managed to stay on top of my writing deadlines.  I am not all YAY, MY CHAPTER IS AWESOME or anything, but I've churned out enough (not crappy) pages to be happy.  I've also done a good chunk of work on a conference paper that is also a revise-a-bit-and-resubmit that sounds very promising (deadline around Thanksgiving) and started a few smaller things.
• I think I've struck a reasonable balance between showing up for campus events (like a friend/colleague giving a talk) and staying the fuck out of the department.  Perhaps doing a bit more than I should, but I've also been on various forms of leave for a year, so I'm not completely burned out.
• I'm also aware that I want to keep this not-burned-out state, as I was incredibly angry (all that tenure debacle bullshit) and very tired (10 years as an assistant professor, across my two jobs, and then that whole fertility treatment + high risk pregnancy + new babyness) going into sabbatical.  So:  I'm probably watching a bit more TV and reading less than I "should," but, you know, by the time 8:30 rolls around and I've been awake for a minimum of 14 hours, well, I'm not really capable of coherent thought.
• I am having a very good time in my painting class and I really hope to carve out time when I'm not on leave in which to paint (which probably means giving up TV, but that will be okay).
• There's a whole lot of domestic stuff that doesn't get done:  i.e. I have a list of various home repair projects (a new roof!  tree removal!) that require simple phone calls I put off day after day.  My lawn hasn't been mowed since, like, July (it grows freaky slow, but still).  Other than during pumping sessions--hooked up right now--I really am trying to WORK during the day.
• I also had these great ideas like I'd get all Tiny Boy's pictures in albums and I'd de-clutter the entire house and clean the garage and cook all kinds of new things and, you know, mostly that stuff isn't getting done.  But I hardly feel like I'm wasting my time.  There's just only so much I can do.  And, frankly, that sort of scares the crap out of me for what might happen when I go "back to work" in the spring.  I mean, if I can't manage to call a roofer, how the hell am I going to grade all my students' work?  And am I seriously going to talk to my department chair about becoming an administrator for my major program?  Am I that stupid?  Perhaps I am.

But you know, I'm tenured.  I'm not in the throes of fertility treatment or pregnant (and when you add it all up, well, that's about half of the past decade).  I'm something resembling happy.  And really it will all be okay.  So long as I have a prescription for Ambien.  Sigh.

A Post About Breastfeeding

I.

So I assume some of you have heard about the controversy about an AU Professor breastfeeding in class.  The whole thing strikes me as problematic on multiple levels (and I should say by "whole thing" I do not mean solely Professor Pine's actions but also the students' and the discussion surrounding it) but it's started me thinking about the contexts in which I breastfeed Tiny Boy, as well as the occasions when I've brought my children to campus.

About the controversy (much of which has been said elsewhere):  (1) I do think choosing to bring a sick infant and nurse a sick infant in class was a DUMB thing to do, and I can't really imagine making that choice myself; that said (2) the academic and cultural climate in which she sees that as her ONLY choice is highly problematic.  I mean really...if sick childcare existed at her institution, she wouldn't have considered that option (I hope).  But (3) really....if students were offended, it seems they should have spoken with Pine first, then someone in Pine's department, NOT contacted the school newspaper. (4) It is true that the very problem that Pine ran into speaks volumes for the need for the kind of feminist anthropology class she was teaching in the first place.

And, (5) really, no I don't think infants, even healthy ones, belong in the classroom but see #2; Pine seems to believe that was a better option for her career than cancelling class, and that's mind-boggling but perhaps accurate.  I'm sure I had more to say about all this but Tiny Boy is yelling and needs to be rescued from the crib.

II.

I've been nursing Tiny Boy at daycare, usually in the morning and again when I pick him up.  I've also nursed him on an airplane, in restaurants, in front of female colleagues (at my house or theirs, NOT on campus), the children's department at the library and museum, at parks and probably a bunch of other places I can't recall.  I don't wear a giant cover up like my sister in law, mostly because if people find breastfeeding sexual, well, they're fucked up and fuck them, but also because Tiny Boy would draw MORE attention to the act by flailing about under all that fabric.  I'm not squeamish about it.  But nor am I going to do it in front of students or my department chair or while giving a lecture; really, I can't talk on the phone and nurse.

I don't believe in a hard and fast separation of professional and home life, especially as a single mama who teaches gender stuff.  I have brought LG to class, for instance (but NOT until she was 5, and I had no other choice, and I was reasonably sure she wouldn't interrupt, and only in very particular contexts [like when students are mostly working in groups anyway]).  I have also cancelled class, and not shown up for meetings, because my kid was sick, and I didn't really worry about the fallout for my career.  During one particularly bad semester (my first here year, when LG was under 2, ended up with ear tubes and then a trip to the cardiologist), she was sick on three work days; by the third, when it would have meant we were too far behind, I asked a colleague to sub.  I figure if my students are allowed to miss a few days because they are sick, well, in a real emergency so can I.  Because if my kid is sick enough to stay home, chances are we're at the doctor, or having a chest x-ray, or I've gotten too sick to go to school too.

But bringing a sick baby to school?  Wouldn't consider it.  Bringing a healthy baby to class?  Wouldn't consider that either.  But I sure would (and have) brought him to meetings with students in my own office while I'm on leave.  And waited, of course, until they left, and then closed the door, to nurse him.  Students don't need to see my breasts.  Even if I really need them to know (a) that I'm human, (b) women can work and have kids, and (c) sometimes that presents challenges.

III. 

I am not sure how to go about (and when to go about) weaning Tiny Boy.  I am currently in uncharted breastfeeding territory, as I stopped nursing LG exclusively at 7 mo and completely by 9.5 mo, as the combination of her allergies and my weight loss really made continuing untenable.  (I am about 103 lbs now, which was my weight pre-ttc and probably too low for a nursing mama; I was only 93 lbs then, despite eating pretty much nonstop).  I have no real desire to wean him at some arbitrary cut off like 1 year, but I also know that he needs to start (at some point) eating more food and less me.  Seems to me that perhaps I stop pumping at some point around one year and let him drink (cow, soy, whatever) milk when he's not with me.  But how to do that?  At what point is he just done?  For how much longer should he be tethered to me by the breasts?

He's going with me (well, the whole family is) to a conference next month, mostly for this reason.  I'll probably bring them pump so I can leave him with my mom for chunks of time, but that too is time away from the conference (which is, not ironically, on motherhood), the first conference I've attended since the week before retrieval (anyone remember THAT craziness?!).

I have no problem nursing a toddler, especially at bedtime.  But I'm guessing that soon even I won't feel comfortable nursing him in public, as he's old enough already to signal his desire to nurse by pulling down the front of my shirt.  And, really, in the end, how different is that from the situation Adrienne Pine found herself in?

Just musing.  Would love to hear what y'all think about this.  And now we will continue on our fake walk.  The living room is looking particularly lovely today...

Managing

Well, my still snuffly baby has been back in daycare for two days, and I'm starting to get things done.  It is absolutely amazing how much one can accomplish when the baby is gone for, like, close to eight hours.  I can read and write and cook and take walks and clean and did I say take a shower without rushing.

Then I pick him up and I can't hug him enough.  (Well, I'd like to hug; he'd like to stick his hand down my shirt and nurse for a few hours straight.)  I knew the dinner hour was going to be even trickier than it used to be, so I've been trying to do dinner prep as breaks earlier in the day.  Because, really, all I can manage is reheating.  Today Tiny Boy nursed at daycare when I picked him up at 4:30 and then pretty much nonstop until I put him in the high chair for dinner at 5:30, and then we were in the rocking chair nursing and working toward sleep by 6:30.  So much for drinking from bottles, eh?

Morning has been going pretty well, mostly because LG and I collaboratively work on lunches after Tiny Boy goes to bed.  Then in the morning one of us just needs to make a sandwich.  We leave at 8:15, which is fifteen minutes later than she did taking the bus, and she walks across the street to school from the daycare parking lot (there's an adult crossing guard) while I get him settled.  By 9:00 I'm home with a cup of coffee and a battle plan.

It's going as well as could be expected, I think.  But I am so freaking tired.  And I know it's just going to get harder come January.  But really I'd just like to put the world on pause and watch TV for like 8 hours straight. 

Good night, folks.

Fantasy, Reality, and Future Plans

I started blogging in earnest back in the fall of 2008.  When I think about what my life was then, compared to what it is now, well, I'm suitably amazed.  I've gone from assistant professor, fertility patient and mother of one, to associate professor and mother of two.  If I never really imagined that it would take almost three years and an egg donor to get pregnant (and stay pregnant), I also did not really know what challenges life as a single mother of two would hold.  I mean, I knew it would be hard.  Being a parent is hard, no matter how many adult hands are at your disposal.  But lately, on an almost daily basis, I find myself wishing not for a husband but, perhaps, a live-in nanny or housekeeper.

A year ago, on a weekend morning, I could sleep until 9:00 or so while LG happily watched cartoons.  These days I'm lucky if Tiny Boy lets me go back to sleep after his 4:00 am nursing session.  I find it hard to cook, to clean, to make phone calls, frankly, to do anything except when he miraculously stays in the crib.  He can't be contained safely in the pack n play, the exersaucer, the high chair, or any other baby containing apparatus.  And when he's playing on the floor, well, he needs supervision.  Much more than a TV watching 8 year old can or should supply.

And here, of course, is where I must insert the disclaimer that I recognize how fortunate I am.  I wouldn't trade Tiny Boy for anything, and if you don't believe me, well, you should have seen what I looked like last Sunday at midnight sobbing in the ER, clutching my diaper-less, catheterized baby to my chest.

Still, holy fuck I need a break.

*

That said, I've decided to plunk down $100 and a weekly two hours of my childcare time to take a painting class.  I figure the next time I'm on sabbatical will be when Tiny Boy is at least seven (seven!!).  And, really, am I going to work on the book every hour the kids are at school?  I am under no obligation to do any service work this semester (although I will remain in touch with the student organization I oversee, basically because no one else will do it).  Otherwise, my answer is no.  There will be plenty to do when I return in the spring.  I want to do something that will allow me to grow as a person, beyond mother, fertility patient, and professor.

*

I've been really lucky in many ways that Tiny Boy will be 10 months when he starts daycare.  I've reached the point that I'm looking forward to the long stretches of time in which to write and read and have quiet time without kids.  Still, he seems so little to be out in the world, away from me for the bulk of his waking hours.  Our whole schedule (such as it is) will change come Wednesday.  And has hard as it is to have to resort to Fake Walks and all kinds of insanity to get through naptime, I'll miss having time to cuddle and play with him.  Those minutes are so precious and I'll need to figure out where to carve out some time in the roughly 4-5 hours (crazy!) that he'll be home and awake when I'm not getting kids dressed and fed and handling routine daily maintenance stuff.  Because when the kids aren't home, I really really really need to get this book done.  If I don't do it now, it's not going to happen.

*

It was a long night again, with three long nursing sessions and both of us restless.  But right now dinner is finishing up (corn on the cob and baked sweet potato, to go with the crock pot barbeque chicken I made the other day) and the kids are playing a few feet away, shoving some cars around and making music.  These kinds of days make up for the nights.  Thank goodness.