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.

Despite My Best Efforts

I have thrush. Again.

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

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.

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" ??

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.

This And That

The tongue tie has been clipped; the doc offered that, if the nursing isn't better when we go back Thursday, he'll clip it a little further back. I think that should do the trick. The thrush is getting better.

Evidence of how huge he is:




So in 2.5 weeks (WAAAAH) I go back to work part-time. I'm going to do it, because I raised hell to make it happen and so did my boss. It would be nice, if I worked for about a year, to have the money for our house down payment (but we don't really need it). And I'm going to try, in September when my part-time time is up, working full time.

Here's the real question: Say after a year I quit and stay home with kids for about ten years. And then look for a job again. At that point, is one year of experience in the distant past going to make any difference at all? Please discuss.

Nursing, Joys Of

My wicked case of thrush (I spoke too soon!) and Squeaky and I visited the nice lactation consultant yesterday. She first tried to offer me a Friday appointment, but I cried copiously. Guess what? He has a tongue tie. She recommended to the ped that he take a nice pair of little scissors to it on Thursday.