Dear Students and Colleagues,

 As you have doubtless heard by now, public schools have just- six days before school was to start!- decided to go all-online for nine weeks.  Yes, they have freaked out today about a cumulative regional caseload that looks like this, distributed across a population of almost 300,000:

Lest you think, but the college students! all of ours were tested on return and almost nobody was positive. If this seems misguided to you, wait until you hear the best part: the superintendent, who is not the sharpest knife in the drawer, is convinced things will be better in 9 weeks. In October. You know what's just getting going in mid-October?

You will note, students and colleagues, that it is, literally, illegal to leave a five year old home alone. Our childcare now consists of two mornings a week of the 16 year old neighbor, a college student one afternoon a week, and my 68 year old mother.  I will be available approximately 30 hours a week to do all the work for my full-time job. This is because the country, state, and university are united in responding to this set of impossible conflicts with a firm and caring  "Dear Parents, Fuck You Very Much." In return, I'm proud to respond to their support in this trying time by offering the bare minimum of effort that will still get me paid!

In summary, if you need something, email me. 

Yours in complete fury,

Jenny F. Scientist

Busy, Busy, Busy

... no time to think.

This week and next week are Mommy Camp, i.e. I must entertain three children for about eleven hours a day. (If I do not entertain them, they start hitting each other.  No, I cannot prevent it; there are three of them and only one of me.)

So far we have done: bike riding practice, baking lessons, summer reading, Nerf playtime with friends, lots of walking, juneberry foraging, and, tomorrow, strawberry picking.  This week there are tennis lessons.  Also, we have been to Walmart four times in four days.  Don't even ask.

In ten days the spouse and I leave for Australia.  So far I have Zenmoo's invaluable travel advice (thank you!!!), a travel charger thing, and a pile of random garments and bags and stuff.

I have indulged in a frenzy of online shopping, by which I mean I have bought things we don't urgently need, such as two rain jackets that don't leak (the last one was from a dumpster at Snooty U, circa 2004; it has had a long life for a free jacket), and two pairs of hiking pants (jeans dry with exceeding slowness).  Considering that the spouse has just received two grants and a large lump-sum payment... it's probably fine.  I just have this nagging guilt/worry about spending money on anything.

FMB: Jobs, Part 2

With respect to the previously mentioned diagram: I don't think one's job necessarily can or should fulfil all the desirable qualities at once - it's labelled 'a reason for being', after all.  Ideally, 'get paid' should be included: that's what jobs are for.  (Please don't start with parenting is a job because it is but no-one is paying me for this nonsense. For the purposes of this discussion, 'jobs' are 'things we do in exchange for money', as opposed to, say, 'work'.)

So... what is lacking in *my* job?  Change.  Opportunity to learn or do something different. 

And what do I love?  Gardening.  Explaining how science works in the real world (it's all chemicals! let me introduce you to... the liver!).  Sewing, canning, making things.  Having a tidy house, though not actually tidying it.

It is no coincidence that the things I love are the things I do the least: I am the primary caregiver for a two-year-old, and I only have childcare while I'm at work.  (For many complex reasons, starting with finances and ending with small-town-with-only-one-daycare and did we mention holy hell it's expensive, 'just pay for more childcare' is not going to work.) 

Next year, I will have twelve hours a week of child-free time when I'm also not teaching; this includes lunch.  Six hours go to class prep.  At least an hour goes to lunch.  The last block will be between classes - so gardening is probably out - and I expect medical appointments to take up much of it. So the main problem is I just don't have time to do anything I want to do.  (For health reasons, I also haven't been strong enough to do much, either.) 

Next up: how can I make room for these things in my life?

(It took me 30 minutes to write for five minutes due to children arguing, the phone ringing, and numerous requests.  Argh.)

You Never Write, You Never Call

Dear Readers, there have been THINGS going on.

(I have three small children.  There are always THINGS, frankly.)

I weaned Sweetpea two months ago; I have been either pregnant or nursing for seven of the last eight years. My health was most charitably described as not fantastic.  I am now giving my health a year to recover from All That Stuff.  (Also, a nice course of steroids and three kinds of antihistamines... yeah.)

I rage-quit the local LLL group after one round too many of "Food before one is just for fun!"  Oddly, the WHO believes it is for not having fucking malnutrition. Apparently science is only for when convenient.

My lovely flower bed is almost too full of plants to plant anything else.

(I have started another, deer-resistant, one.  There are worse problems to have.)

My part-time job has had Issues.  I can't really talk about those issues. Let's just say, someone quit but is still hanging around, someone needs to be hired temporarily, the local accreditor threw their usual fit over 18 Credit Hours Of Thing (my actual PhD in science from fucking Snooty U may be insufficient qualification to keep first-year students from setting themselves on fire, and teach them titration, my hand to God).  A somewhat unfortunate conversation left me with the impression that my work is not valued.  This set off a round of my Screw You Reflex, which was already present due to Person Who Quit (I have applied for 6 jobs in the last 3 months).

Also, I've been engaged in fine round of reflection on "Is this what I really want to be doing with my life?"

I am an adjunct.  I'm well-paid to do this, but there is no room for any kind of advancement, more pay, or even more work.  How long do I want to do this?  I don't know.  Somewhere between one more year and five more years, but probably not more than that.  Also, they still haven't told me if I'll even be teaching... in August.  You know, in two months.

So!  What am I going to do with my life?  I have been working on it.

Here are the things I value: time to pursue hobbies like gardening; money; social interaction with reasonable humans; work that I feel has purpose; work that is interesting; work that has social value to me;

Right now, I have very little time not devoted to child-wrangling, and so only the social-interaction gets filled. That is necessary, but not sufficient.  What would be sufficient?  At least two.  Time and social value would do, but that won't happen until the children are all in school.  Otherwise, one needs to be money.

ADJUNCTING:  Pluses: convenient, local, money per hour is good.  Minuses: cap means my max earnings there ever will be ~30,000/year (for 15-20 hr/week of work for 9 months a year); will likely never do anything but intro chem; lack of professional respect*; nowhere to go; may limit future career prospects; unpleasant uncertainty until the last minute, apparently forever.  Uncertain factors: New boss who isn't really the boss yet; nobody knows what is happening including new boss.**  VERDICT: Form exit strategy for within next 4 years.***

SKIPPING TOWN: Pluses: literally anywhere else has more employment prospects.  Minuses: we are near my parents, who are fantastic and make my life 50% easier; we live in literally the most beautiful part of the state; we have a nice house and a really good life; the local public schools are pretty good; a huge set of benefits including college tuition; Dr. S has a fantastic job with fantastic people, which he really likes and which is basically optimized in a lot of ways that are difficult to achieve.  In essence, all parameters except 'acceptable employment for me' are met.  Surely I can find something acceptable in the next four years?

WAITING IT OUT: Jobs do, periodically, come open at the colleges.  (One for which I applied is now open AGAIN because the lady they hired instead of me... up and quit!).

MOAR EDUCATION: Pluses: there is an online course at Nearby Respected State University in computer stuff; this would probably make me more competitive for all the IT stuff.  Would actually give me interesting useful skills.  Minuses: Would still need to find something I could do remotely, or would have to commute 2+ hrs/day; or could wait it out for an IT job at local college (iffy!).  Money for course (not excessive).

REALLY MOAR EDUCATION: I could go get a bachelor's in computer science and redo from start.  While this seems ridiculous, if my knowledge/experience/credentials are doing me no good now, they are a sunk cost and it's time to move on.  Pluses: I could be a programmer for real! More possibilities for remote work. Minuses: Time, initial investment, other programmers.

POSSIBLE JOB AT COLLEGE IN NEXT CITY OVER: I applied for an adjunct job there and the chair emailed me about a job opening up next year.  I mean... really?  There is no way.  But let's pretend. Would I even want to do this?  I DON'T KNOW.

POSSIBLE OTHER JOBS:  Would need to convince various parties to employ me long-distance.  Current job contacts work in defense (I am an honest-to-God pacifist) and education software (about which I know little).  Would prob need at least the Moar Ed option.

I have no more time to reflect right now, but, More Thoughts Later.


* I am 'not competetive' for a 'real' faculty job because I didn't go do research at an R1 for 5 years after getting my honest-to-God research PhD.  Which, fine, whatever, I wasn't willing to pay that price.  But still: Academia, DIAF.

** We did have a friendly conversation the other day in which I said "If this continues to be one course per semester there will come a time when it is no longer worth it to me." (Implied: That time will be really soon.)

*** At which point Sweetpea will be in school and Dr. S will have gone up for tenure, which gives us both more latitude and time to deal with everything and, for many reasons, would make it easier for him to find another job if we have to burn it all down and move.

FMB: Jobs

My older children are upstairs trying to murder each other and Sweetpea has taken to climbing on things and then walking off the edge.  So!  Five minutes, GO!

I have gotten to a point where I hate (HATE) being home all the time with the children.  Naturally, everyone is on spring break for ten days.  I mostly hate the bad parts: the hungry, miserable behavior (eat a damn carrot, child, and stop losing your tiny mind); the screaming; the necessity of keeping everyone so quiet for multiple hours a day so the baby can sleep.  The necessity of my entire life revolving around Nap Jail!  The way everyone falls apart when The Schedule is not rigidly observed!  I hate being someone with a schedule in stone, and yet, when we deviate, I get so anxious, because I just KNOW the Scream Train is coming. I don't like the person I am and I am bored and lonely and tired of this.

(Did I mention the screaming?)

I feel like I spend my entire day doing things I find unrewarding, and which feel entirely unvalued.  Example: I make the children's favorite dinner, and they whine and argue for 30 minutes.

I also feel like I am tired of being money-pinched and I want a job that pays me money so I can afford to not be with my children.  And I am beginning to feel anxious about the future/ retirement funds/ taking care of aging parents/ my lack of a career.

(Five minutes are up and someone is - wait for it- screaming.)

Next time on FMB: Looking For Jobs, Which Gives Me Hives, Also Did I Mention There Are No Jobs Here?  (Please don't tell me there are jobs.  There are only 7000 people, I regret everything.)

What To Do.

Lately, while nursing the baby (ENDLESSLY) I've been reading Captain Awkward and, aside from giving me a Serious Complex about my parenting (am I that toxic parent? will this be my children in twenty years?  then I stopped reading it) it's reinforced to me: boundaries and choices are about limits and acceptable consequences.

So I keep thinking of things to write about and then realizing I need to be honest with myself and then I will no longer have Questions other than, am I actually willing to do X?  (Probably not.)

How do I respond to my crazy sister's crazy message "I haven't been stabbed!  I don't know if you were worrying!"?  (Don't respond.  You can only think of snarky or too-honest things like "YOU DON'T SAY" and "You're an idiot, don't talk to me until you grow up some OH WAIT you weren't talking to me anyways.")

Why am I depressed?  (Pain.  Fatigue due to not being able to sleep due to pain.  Loneliness due to no energy to do stuff due to pain.  Plus a screaming, horrible four year old who deliberately wets his pants. Next stops: ENT, then M&M bribes.)

Why am I not losing the last of the baby weight?  (Chocolate plus the previous.)

Am I a terrible parent?  (Sometimes.  Sometimes every parent is a terrible parent.)

Am I mediocre at every single thing I do?  (Quite possibly.  There's room for improvement.)

Is my job meaningful at all, or am I babysitting college students?  (Yes.)

Will Bug ever stop whining about his homework?  (Probably not.  My response, by the way, is to tell him that his homework is his problem and if he doesn't want to do it he can write a note to his teacher, but I won't force him.  Because I WON'T.

Would 10% more disposable income allow me to buy my way out of  some things?  (YES.  ALL THE YES.)

Will this all get better some day?  (Some day.)

Family Trips

Have you ever noticed that the more children you have, the more travel becomes like unto packing up a circus, tent and all?  I think we might actually haul a crib mattress, a pack and play, two fans, and a tent to my uncle's house.  I haven't been there since 2002 and I have absolutely zero memory of where I slept.

It always seems like a good idea until you have to start stuffing the minivan!

(Still promises to be more fun than the Greatly Tense Wedding of 2015.  Did I tell you that due to my scheduling failure, it's on the first day of school?  Mother of the year! But also, whatever, it's first grade.)

Five Minute Blogging : The Gift of Single Parenthood

Dr. S is at a conference... for a week.  Naturally, I went and stayed with my mama for three days. Also naturally, my children didn't get enough sleep and are crazed tiny weasels.  And I managed to pull off at the exit where a tractor trailer had juuuust overturned.... And after being home for three hours, I'd had three hours of children screaming, crying, or both.  And I have to do three more days of this, or four if my mom can't make it up here on Friday.  And I have to wash the dishes and take out the compost and pack lunches and bathe all three children and put all three children to bed (instead of just the baby) and drop Bug off at school AND pick him up (NONE of which I normally do).  And it's forecast to rain all week.

While I was at my parents' house, we were talking about wedding planning for my middle sister's second wedding (to someone also celebrating a second wedding) and all the attendant family heartburn.  (Do I have to go???? She didn't come to my wedding.  Also all my mom's craaaaazy sisters are coming.  Also my mom hates the officiant and my future BIL's relatives mainly don't speak English.)

 And it made me think that, though I was pretty young when I married (24!), Dr. S is a keeper.  He really pulls his weight with the kids and with house chores even though he works full time and I don't. I may have been young and stupid, like we all are, but I picked a damn good partner.

FMB: Assorted Updates

• I stepped on one of our hazelnut twigs (tree-to-be) and another died in the exceptionally cold winter.  BAH.  
• The mastitis is maybe... mostly gone?  Something is still not quite right in the nipple area but overall, a big improvement.  I took a third week of antibiotics that I had laying around (not even expired!) without arguing with the doctor about it, because I am officially the World's Worst Patient.
• I know that many people are not into sleep training but I am counting down the days until this child is old enough that I do NOT have to nurse her all night.
• That said, she is still sweet and adorable and a complete chub ball and she laughs and cuddles and loves to eat.  Also she thinks her brothers are hilarious, which they find charming.  
• Today I took a nap.  I kicked everyone else out of the house and SLEPT.
• Fatigue makes me deeply unsympathetic to my spouse, which I realize is unkind, but... I haven't slept more than a few hours in a row in SIX MONTHS.  So, you lose.
• Gardening!  So much gardening.  Every afternoon I go work on my flower garden.  Every weekend I go do things at the vegetable garden.
• Eventually planting season will be over and I will be forced to do housework again.
• Re: this last, the washer sprung a leak and now requires repair.  You know who really needs a washer?  Three small children and two adults.
• I have just now restrained myself from late night fruit tree buying.  See my superhuman restraint?
• I almost never have access to a computer-with-keyboard because the above, plus the kids, suck up all my time.  
• I must harass the Chem department head about how surely he would like to hire me again in the fall. SURELY.  
• Because it is amazing to be paid for time away from my children.  

Third Time Lucky

Somehow, parenting with Sweetpea around - now that I can sleep some of the time, and have recovered most of my physical health - feels a little like redemption.  I don't remember actually enjoying this stage with either of the other children, but she's just darling.  It's probably all the things:  a much better support network, the knowledge that a little unhappiness won't kill any of my children, and the fact that the oldest child is gone seven hours a day in kindergarten.  It feels more graceful.  It feels easier.

However, I got a blocked duct this week.  Actually, I've had a somewhat-blocked duct for weeks, and it finally went into full-on OH FUCK.  Not only does it hurt like the dickens, it's a herald of possible mastitis.... which, in turn, sent me into a full-on weeping breakdown.  I kept saying that if I got mastitis, I'd wean the baby, but it turns out I'm bargaining with myself in my head.  (Because that turned out SO well last time.)  And... the doctor I see here, I don't actually trust to deal with this.  Actually, on reflection, I don't really trust anyone to make it better, on the grounds that even an expert failed rather.  So, fuck.

In Which I Am Called Mrs. Scientist Again...

... and don't really mind.

Every few weeks, I drag Tatoe to elementary school with me and spend an hour coaxing kindergarteners to practice their writing.  This being a small town, I know half of Bug's class (they are always very excited to see me).  And Bug's teacher refers to me as "Mrs. Scientist".

(There are several parents who do this for his class and they are all, in fact, Dr. Somebody, and all their spouses are also Dr. Somebody - though they encompass an MD and a veterinarian- because everyone who volunteers is a professor or the spouse of a professor.)

I think it doesn't bother me because I am there solely as a parent.  My authority as Dr. Somebody is not at issue.  I have authority at elementary school because I'm an adult, doing something for the teacher; being Dr. Anyone is irrelevant, especially as I'm hardly an expert in kindergarten education.

Dear Elementary School,

NO, I do not want to come for the Halloween Parade/ help with art class/ show up at school while my child is there.  I want him to be elsewhere, and to not have to worry about it.  I do not, particularly, want school to be a collaborative effort.  I will send in paper plates for the Halloween Party.  I will also show up once a month, for an hour, to help with reading.  I will make sure he practices his writing.  Aaaaaand that's it.

(I know exactly how underfunded public schools are in general - although this one is NOT - and I understand that they do rely on parents to participate - but NO.  I can't even manage to send back my kid's Monday Folder on Mondays.  There is no way I can do anything else for his class.)

This Is Just To Say

... that arranging-things details are spilling out of my ears.

I was, at one time, able to a) run my own multi-year, multi-project research program while editing a journal and volunteering weekly and later b) manage a tech support team along with all its extremely varied needs, work on many software projects, and have a small child.  This is a mystery to me.  Yesterday I had to a) take Bug to a kindergarten-observation slot; b) take Bug to preschool; and c) go to a meeting.  I forgot the observation and was late to the meeting.  I would have been late to preschool, but it was on the way to the meeting.

We have made an offer on an ugly-ass house.  It may have lead paint and asbestos.  I have been arranging for testing for these things - this involves labs, licenses, accreditation, inspectors, contract amendments... it goes on and on.  Why is Dr. S not dealing with any of this?  Because it is finals week and he has until noon on Monday to submit all the grades.

Perhaps my brain is full of these details to the exclusion of all others.  Yesterday I set something out for dinner, forgot it, and cooked something completely different.  I also defrosted a chicken, and then realized that it was not a good idea.  Pesach is Monday.  We are going out of town.  I still have to clean/boil the entire kitchen. Send help, brandy, minions, and secretaries.

Why Everything Takes Forever

12:00 Preschool pickup.  Bug throws a tantrum, as usual, and we stand outside the car for ten minutes until he stops waving his arms around and screaming.
12:15  Tatoe gets eyedrops, by which I mean I pry his eyelids open and drop the antibiotic in.
12:20 Lunch.  My children are the slowest eaters in ever.  I manage to eat a bowl of reheated lima beans.   They have five arguments (you a duck!  no, I'm not!  yes, you is!  no, I'm not!  I was first!  no, you weren't!) until I tell them that they can either eat or argue, but not both.
12:50 Bug gets a time-out.  I don't even remember why.
1:00 I finally take a thrashing Tatoe upstairs for a diaper and a nap.  He screams.
1:10 I read Bug his books and shut the door for 'quiet time', also known as 'Mama needs to go lay down in a quiet room now.'
2:15 I go to get Bug.  He is fast asleep.
2:20 Tatoe wakes up screaming. I ignore him and do the rest of my looking-things-up-on-the-internet.
2:30 The military jets do their daily supersonic low-altitude flyover.  I curse at them. Tatoe wakes up screaming.  I ignore him.
3:00 Tatoe wakes up screaming again.  I wake Bug up and we all go downstairs.  Tatoe gets eyedrops AGAIN.
3:15 Tatoe wails piteously 'I want GWAMPA!' for the ninth time today.  We call my dad on Skype and the children sing him songs and tell him fifteen times 'I had a doughnut today!  I ate the whole thing!'  The dog pants at them.
3:45 I look at real estate briefly.
4:00 We try to leave the house.  Tatoe needs a diaper.  It takes five minutes to convince him to go upstairs.  Then he wants to pee on the big boy potty.  My spouse has let him pee in the froggy potty last night, but not emptied it; this morning I put water in and forgot it.  Tatoe, moving it out of the way, spills it all over the floor.
4:15 I finish washing the bathroom floor, my hands, my feet, Tatoe's hands, and everything in between.  Tatoe gets a new diaper.  The children clean up the toy tornado in the living room.
4:30 Bug starts wailing about wearing shoes!  And he can't find his sweater! (It's eight inches away, on the floor.) And wearing boots!  And he wants a helicopter!  I lie down on the couch.
4:45  He finally finds his sweater and puts it on.
4:46 Tatoe makes a dirty diaper.
4:50 I finish writing this, take off everyone's shoes, and go make a cup of tea.

Not A Good Year

This past February, we decided we were moving.  We started packing up and getting ready to sell our house and move almost a thousand miles.

By May, Bug was clearly feeling fairly displaced.  The tantrums and screaming, the emotional dysregulation, which had been slowly fading away after The Year Of Three, started coming back.

By July, when we actually moved, he was throwing a screaming tantrum every time we walked in the door to our apartment (townhouse, whatever).  He talked about how he was 'anxious' about our old house and how he missed his old house and his friends.  I tried to help him work through the feelings, while emphasizing that this is our home now.   We went on lots of long walks, and ran around with the soccer ball, and went to every park in the area.  We fed ducks, rode on a trolley, petted horses, played with dogs.

He pushed his brother down the stairs.  He hit Tatoe and made him bleed.  He dislocated Tatoe's elbow.  He started grabbing things out of Tatoe's hands - not once, but once every ten minutes - and saying "But I wanted it!"

I waited it out.  We made some friends, had some scheduled activities, started preschool three days a week.  It got a little better.  He likes the preschool.

But.  But.  Tuesdays are a nightmare.  Thursdays are almost as bad.  Last week he screamed, whined, cried, and shrieked for four and half hours straight; it didn't stop for more than five minutes at a time.  Every time he hears the word 'no' or encounters any disappointment - and I mean "No, you may not grab that out of your brother's hands" or "We need to put shoes on so we can go to preschool" or "Three cheese sandwiches is, as I have told you three times, enough; what else would you like?" - he goes into a nuclear meltdown.  He hits. He kicks.  He refuses to listen to anything until everything he wants has been taken away from him.  Quiet time always inspires another nuclear meltdown; by then, Tatoe is napping, so he gets to throw a tantrum on the porch, or strapped into his carseat (only in appropriate weather, of course).  He's fine while Tatoe is asleep and it's just the two of us, but the moment little brother wakes up, it's back to the hitting and screaming and stealing.

I can't deal with it.  I stop caring why he's screaming and I just want him to stop. I grab him and pull him away from hurting his little brother. I'm usually in tears by naptime.  I don't have anything left.  I try to talk to him about what's wrong, or help him draw out some pictures, and he either can't or won't articulate anything to me.  It's fine when/if we get out the door (usually accompanied by an hour of wailing by both children; sometimes, however, not optional all the same), but as soon as we walk back in, wham.   I do fun things just with him.  Dr. S and I both give him all the attention we can.  But there are other needs - clean clothing, food, meals, another child - that I must also meet.

I'm trying to remove all the sources of conflict that I can.  But also, this week, I am calling up the therapists in town, and telling that I don't even want to be around my sweet child, my dearest firstborn, that most days I want to hurt him or send him away, because there is so much conflict and screaming and him hurting my other child, that since I cannot manage to parent my own child, I need them to work it out for me.  I feel like a failure as a parent.  I had one job, and I can't do it.

Cute Cute Cute Cute NOT CUTE

Bug likes to say to me and to Tatoe, "I love you.  Do you love me?"  And I say "Yes, buddy, of course I love you lots and lots forever."  And Tatoe says "Dovey dovey Bugga!"  Which is completely adorable.   (Tatoe has excellent articulation and vocabulary... for a 22-month-old.)

Sometimes they take out all the giant legos and build a giant tower, laid flat, on the couch, and then knock it on the floor and laugh hysterically.

Sometimes, when Tatoe's upset, Bug goes and gets Panda Teddy and Panda Teddy Teddy* to help his brother feel better.

And sometimes, Bug grabs a toy out of Tatoe's hand, pushes him on the floor, and lies about it.

Next time I have my children** I will make sure they have July or August birthdays so they can go to kindergarten as soon as possible.

* Tatoe has two identical stuffed pandas.  He insists on sleeping with both of them.  In a moment of lack-of-foresight, I allowed him to see both at the same time.  The rest....  Anyhow, we call them Teddy and Teddy Teddy.
** That is, next time I go back in time and do this over.

Siblings

Let me start by saying that I have pretty much read all the helpful books ever about sibling rivalry.  They all make the assumption that your children are all old enough to talk in coherent and semi-abstract sentences, and are not tiny damage-prone wee toddlers.  In other words, they're useless when one of the kids is under three.

Last week I left Bug and Tatoe sitting happily on the floor in my bedroom.  I walked into the bathroom - all of ten feet away - to brush my teeth.  Before I even started, Tatoe was shrieking in pain because Bug, annoyed at something, whacked his giant head into Tatoe. Tatoe was bleeding and crying, and Bug was saying "But he _______ me!"  (Or my favorite: "But I WANTED it!")

So let's face facts: no amount of positive cheerful redirecting focused parenting is going to prevent children from doing stupid shit and getting punished consequences.  And especially, when the size and strength differential is so large, the little one gets it a lot more.

Preschool cannot start SOON ENOUGH.

(Preschool starts in a week and a half.)

More Extremely Boring Assorted

• I did not do my spouse bodily harm.  I did toss the children at him Monday evening and go to the gym.  When I came home they were still shrieking.   (I also offered to leave town again.  He declined.  Next time I am NOT getting babysitters.)
• The reason I exercise so much is this: my desire for an hour all alone is generally greater than my lazy wish to sit around on my rear.
• Bug is slowly becoming less insane.  My word, but that child loves him some routine/regularly scheduled bribery.  (I prefer to call it 'incentivization.')  The re-institution of Songs For Getting Dressed Cheerfully and the Outing Every Morning and also the Post-Quiet-Time How It's Made Episode have clearly given him a sense of stability, because he asks for them every single day.  
• Dr. S and I can still not sleep.  Well.  Ever.  Especially not on the same mattress.  Job uncertainty and stress: the gift that keeps on giving. 
• No, I have not gotten off my lazy rear and started applying for jobs.  Or, more realistically, job, singular, as in "I know you're not hiring, but please hire me."  

Marital Problem-Solving

"Bug is being pretty intolerable."
"Can you just be more patient with him?"
"Can I lock myself in a closet instead??"
"Um... how about you take a vacation?"

I'm haring off to Our Nation's Capitol for five glorious days - including 10 hours of blissfully quiet train-riding!  with books and knitting!  uninterrupted by, well, anything - and I have even taken pity on my spouse and booked some half-time babysitters, so that he isn't locked in a closet when I return.  (The spouse, not the child, though I wouldn't lay any bets.)  My itinerary consists mainly of "visit everyone I can, then wander around."

Of course, Dr. S will be gone for another who-knows-how-long, interviewing this fall, so on the whole, it all balances out.  Nonetheless, three cheers for the spouse.

Scatterbrained

• The combination of No Preschool and No Friends is hellacious.  I am so bored.  And lonely.  And bored.  And, actually, really unhappy.  If I don't leave the house with the kids twice a day, all hell breaks loose, but sometimes it takes Bug an hour to stop screaming and put his GODSDAMNED pants on. And as I don't see why I should reward his bad behavior by going somewhere fun, we don't, pantless.  No, he needs to shut the fuck up and put his pants on.  (Of course I do not say this to him.)
• I think I may have bruised his leg on the railing today, dragging him up the stairs screaming for timeout #5, see also: pushing brother to floor.  Something has to change here.   I am going to fucking lose my mind any minute now.
• Number of fun indoor places here: One.  The library.  
• Number of times it rained right as we were trying to go to the park: Five.
• Number of days it has been very hot and very humid so far: All of them.
• Number of time-outs JUST TODAY for shoving his little brother onto the floor: five.
• Also there was an ER trip last week because Bug dislocated Tatoe's elbow.  It cost me $200.
• Why no, I CAN'T leave them alone together for more than two minutes.
• No, really, Bug needs to be more gentle.  Or I will lock HIM in the closet and drink an entire bottle of wine.
• Except I have to take care of the other one, so I can't.
• Spouse also suffers from magical-thinking delusion that we would move and Everything Would Be Better.  Instead, we have switched: he loves his job, and I hate being home with the kids.