In Which All Parties Are Filled With Annoyance

My dear spouse is considering leaving the world of research science (which is an entire post all its own which I have no time to write although I very much want to). In consequence, he is a little disoriented and grumpy. This on top of the disoriented and grumpy that comes with never really sleeping enough. Plus, parenthood has made me able to fall asleep with a baby nursing and a jackhammer outside, and has made him unable to sleep through a cat meowing, being the reverse of our previous states. Anyhow, he's not sure what do do or how, and is feeling somewhat despairing about academic teaching jobs and disgruntled with the NIH and so on.

To add to the joy, my MIL and BIL were just here again, and there was an unfortunate combination of their inability to SHUT UP AND LEAVE THE BABY ALONE so he could go to sleep, and my dear spouse's inability to tell them to. Baby and spouse were both cranky.

I got home today and discovered that the spouse had put the baby in the carseat WRONG ALL WRONG, but really, with the clip in the wrong place and the straps way too loose and then I got really, really mad.

And his boss- who knows he's working part-time!- keeps scheduling meetings for, say, Friday at 4 pm. And then he keeps going. And then I'm annoyed at him and he's annoyed at his boss and at me and she's probably annoyed about something too. My opinion is, as always, that PEOPLE IN HELL WANT ICE WATER.

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Brilliant Or, Er, Not

I was assigned a Giant Awful Project at work. (Last week I spent 16 hours on it. I'm only supposed to be working 20 hours.) Basically, someone designed a new automatic gear oiler for our new shiny bike model.* I have to make prototypes of all 130 moving parts for the last bike model. Oh yes, and it has to be done by next Friday morning.

Today I learned that either I am half done... or I designed 63 new parts for the wrong bike.


*I don't actually work on bicycles, by the way.

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Did I Shave My Legs For This?

Or: The Working Woman's Mild Lament

So I spent 2.5 days at work last week. Fortunately, the Pumpkin being in the capable hands of his father, I did not worry about him. (Unfortunately, there was a great screaminess surrounding feelings of I Hate Plastic WHERE'S MY BOOB. Yes, we tried a whole bunch of bottles/pacifiers/etc. starting at the midwife-recommended time. Yes, he hates all of them.)

My work (doing high-tech bicycle repair, you may remember) is quite interesting. I like my co-workers. I like my boss. I have a great deal of flexibility in when and how I get my work done. The money, of course, is nice.

All the same, I can't help feeling, at least a little, that it is completely unimportant. On the other hand, it is important. More bicycle-riders means less pollution, reduced medical costs because bicycle-riders are more healthy, etc. Better bicycles mean more riders.

I sometimes wonder why I bothered getting all that education, anyways. I long ago decided to leave research science, so I suppose I got that PhD, as has famously been said, because it was there. I don't really regret it; I merely find my life taking- because of my own choices, mind you- an entirely unexpected direction. It's a trifle disconcerting. I look in the mirror and I'm not sure I recognize the woman there. I'm happy with what I have. But I'm not used to it yet.

Maybe, someday soon, my self-image will catch up to my life.

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Despite My Best Efforts

I have thrush. Again.

Also, I need to learn to go to bed earlier...

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Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho

I go back to work tomorrow morning. I am still deeply conflicted about working at all, but feel obligated to try it (and see if I like it, and all). Plus, I've never pumped that much! Aaaaaa!

My grandmother is visiting, so we went out for dinner tonight. It was nice, and also reassuring on the baby-care front.

On the bright side, Dr. S is really looking forward to spending some more time with the little one. He's trying hard to talk, and tells us 'OoooooOOOOOOoooo, MmmmmmaaaaaaAAAA' on a regular basis.

Also, Dr. S's postdoc advisor is paying him full-time for working part-time. This place is awesome.

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Dear Former Advisor:

Thanks so much for sending the reviews from my doomed little manuscript. Again. I wrote you back once. What's that? You want more? Let me explain a few things to you.

1) My baby is crying.

2) I already have my PhD. It's in the frigging mail.

3) My baby is way more important to me than your lame manuscript (all right, my lame manuscript), not least because

4) I already have a job and

5) I need nothing further from you.

You get 15 more minutes of my time. CHEERS.

Sincerely yours,

No Longer Your Grad Student So Bugger Off


Seriously though, what's a polite way to say, "I am doing this as a favor to you, but I am very busy and this is all you get" ??

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43 Hours

Or: a new record for how long my in-laws were here before my spouse and I wanted to kill each other.

Fortunately, a tense discussion (and one treif microwave) later, we've at least determined that they irritate us in exactly the same way. Being: they don't listen. And they have a severe defect in the 'taking others' preferences into account' department. Oh, and they give the spouse unsolicited, pressing advice all the bloody time. (For whatever reason, they have the sense not to offer me any.)

Now if we can just convince them to NOT get Squeaky one of these:


And instead, to perhaps shop here.

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