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.)

Does Vaccine Hesitancy Matter?

A friend asked me this week if it really matters if other people delay vaccinating their children.  As long as their child has received at least one dose of each vaccine, they asked, isn't their own child protected?

Absolutely not!  For one, most vaccines require multiple doses for full effect; for another, even the best vaccine is not completely effective.  The current pertussis vaccine, developed because of worrisome but not dangerous reactions to the cellular vaccine, is only about 85% effective.

Let's take measles FOR EXAMPLE. Modeling - based on lots and lots of data- shows that for one, about 95% of the population needs to be vaccinated to prevent outbreaks.  Here is a particularly good REAL WORLD EXAMPLE of what happens, in a densely populated area, when this isn't the case.  You can read the whole paper for yourself, but the summary is: not twelve years ago, the Solomon Islands had a big measles outbreak.  There were only 50,000 people living on the islands and at least 800 of them caught measles.  The outbreak lasted six months.  Six months.  They finally went and re-vaccinated 35,000 people regardless of whether they'd previously been immunized.

Take that in for a minute.  They re-vaccinated 70% of the population.

"From 1989 until 2003, the RMI did not report a single case of measles, and World Health Organization (WHO) cluster surveys showed single-dose vaccine coverage of 93% and 80% among 2-year-old children in 1998 and 2001, respectively, although second-dose coverage lagged behind at 40% in both years." 

"The outbreak ended only after vaccination of ~35,000 persons among a population of 51,000." 

"[T]he reported coverage of 1-dose measles-mumps-rubella (MMR) vaccine was 80%–93%..... [Of the measles cases] (23% involved infants who were below the age of routine vaccination), 100 hospitalizations (34% involved infants), and 3 deaths. Of outbreak cases, 41% were reported to have been previously vaccinated." 

That's right! This large outbreak happened even to people who had been vaccinated. The percent of the population dropped below the protecting-everyone threshold- in part because many children did not receive their vaccines on time, especially the second dose!

Why stick to the recommended schedule?  Because in general, there have been lots and lots of studies demonstrating to test the schedule and determine what sequence gives the best immunity - while protecting children as much as possible.  In other words, vaccines are given as soon as it's been shown they'll be both safe and effective in children of that age.

Whenever someone, because they read a dumb book or heard someone on the radio or for any other not-medically-indicated reason, delays their child's vaccines, they are increasing the chances of an outbreak.  Infants are disproportionately vulnerable in outbreaks - but also even children old enough to be vaccinated are at higher risk.  They're putting your kids at risk, but they are also putting their own kids at risk.  Please, tell them.

Have you ever convinced someone to vaccinate their child in a more timely fashion? Or informed them of FACTS about vaccines?  Told them a personal story ('my cousin got pertussis and gave it to my grandma')?

(Retrospective irony alert: "In contrast, (less than) 120 measles cases have occurred annually in the United States since 1998 [2, 3]. The success of the US measles program is based on (greater than) 90% preschool vaccination coverage for 1 dose of measles vaccine and the near-universal requirement of a second dose for school entry [4–6].

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.

Miscellaneous

Here is a randomly assorted collection of thoughts:

Pregnancy is easier to handle without severe chronic pain and I don't care how grateful anyone is to be pregnant, nobody is grateful for feeling like roadkill all the time.

Tatoe is going through an intensely whiny/awful phase right now - yesterday he whined for six hours!  I was counting! - and I am also not grateful for that.

I am now the Professor's Wife Who Adjuncts.  However, it is Dr. Scientist, little students, so help me.  (One advantage of teaching at Pseudo-Military U: they will all be very respectful.)

We are refinishing the floors in our new house, after which we will Move!  In!  I have packed NOTHING!  Eeeek. (I am not refinishing floors.  I take a fairly liberal attitude, but two gallons of mineral spirits is too much volatile solvents for a fetus, and I don't have a respirator.)

However, when people ask if they can help us move/ pack/ watch kids, I have now taken to saying "Yes!  Thank you.  How about next Tuesday?"

Pregnancy, strength, endurance, tiredness... my limits are smaller than otherwise, is what I'm saying.  And I was just getting back to something approaching good health.

Related: I may smack the next person who gets worried about me lifting heavy things while pregnant because it might hurt the baby.  I am 18 weeks pregnant.  I don't want to move a house of boxes because then I will be exhausted, not because I'll hurt the baby.  I have not broken my arms.  I am pregnant, not disabled.  (Climbing tall ladders is a different proposition.  No ladders.)

SCHOOL starts in FIVE WEEKS!  I can't WAIT to get rid of both my precious children to fine educational institutions.

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.

Something Cheerful For A Change

For me, the best part of having kids is watching them change as they grow up - seeing them learn new skills, new words, new ideas, one at a time.  Tatoe, who has just turned two, is very verbal.  He says things like "It's not cooled off yet; it's still too hot" (in a lisping little baby voice, of course) or "I put the sweet potato in the cup!"

Last week, we were reading his bedtime books, one of which is "Time For Bed", and- I was so proud!- he made his first little toddler joke.

"It's time for bed, little mouse, little mouse-"
"It a goat!"  Giggle giggle.
"It's time to sleep, little bird, little bird-"
"It a GOAT!"  Hilarious giggling.
"It's time to sleep, little deer, little deer-"
"IT A GOAT!"  Everyone dissolves into helpless laughter.

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.)

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.

On Mothering

1) Thank all the deities we do not now, nor will we (probably) ever, live near my mother-in-law.  I just had this terrifying flash of ham dinners every Mothers' Day from now to eternity.

2) I understand - in an intellectual way - the pain and heartbreak of wanting children, and not having children.     However, this does not mean that people with children are, in fact, grateful for them every moment of every day.  It's more... an abstract.  Or a Platonic ideal.  The day-to-day (seventh major meltdown, now strapped into the car to have a tantrum there due to sounding like a tornado siren, FOR EXAMPLE, while the little one stands at the door and cries "Mama!  Mama?  MAAAAMAAAA!!!!) is more like this (thank you for your eloquence, May):

 "If someone bitches to me about noisy anxsty teens or little princesses who break things in their tantrums, I agree, it’s distressing. I don’t think they should suck it up and be grateful. And if I ever get pregnant again, let alone get lucky and end up with a shrieky picky noisy anxsty stormy house-destroyer of my own, I too will want the right to bitch about it all. Ungratefully. Because it’s worth bitching about, even when I and you and everyone knows it’s damn well worth it."

And also this:

 Every time I’m out with my kids – this seems to happen: An older woman stops us, puts her hand over her heart and says something like, “Oh- Enjoy every moment. This time goes by so fast.” ...

Now. I’m not suggesting that the sweet old ladies who tell me to ENJOY MYSELF be thrown from a mountain. These are wonderful ladies. Monkees, probably. But last week, a woman approached me in the Target line and said the following: “Sugar, I hope you are enjoying this. I loved every single second of parenting my two girls. Every single moment. These days go by so fast.” ... 

There was a famous writer who, when asked if she loved writing, replied, “No, but I love having written.” What I wanted to say to this sweet woman was, “Are you sure? Are you sure you don’t mean you love having parented?”

So to everyone out there who, on the day where everyone is so grateful for their children, wasn't feeling especially grateful, cheerful, or even fond of the children:  ME TOO.

Tatoe Speaks!

Well, in fact he's been saying word-like things for several months, but around 16 months (so in February) he started talking in grammatically correct, complete sentences.  It's disconcerting, that's what, to hear a two-foot-tall and mostly incomprehensible person come out with "I want to go!"  "Where's the ball?" "This is a tree".

The other one was still at "Dog!  Woof!" when he was 16 months old.  It's almost like having a Control Baby, and this one is the Has Chatterbox Sibling: Experimental Group A.

Sleep Train Or Don't

(For anyone wanting to know about actual data on sleep training- spoiler, there is very little!- see glum bunny's excellent post on the subject; and Alice's summaries on the subject.  My personal favorite was the one where they showed that parents counseled on sleep training were happier, because they got a little more sleep for a little while, or possibly because they felt they had some vestige of control.  Also, kids go through regressions/ wake up because they're sick/ randomly fall out of bed and scream like banshees [AHEM, Bug].  Or whatever.)

No, I want to talk about parents whose kids don't sleep, who find this circumstance unacceptable, and who don't do anything about it.

Look, people I know in real life: adults have needs too.  If you don't care that your sweet baby is kicking you in the head all night, great for you.  If you want your three-year-old to climb into your bed at 2 AM every night, great!  (In case you couldn't guess, these are well into my OH HELL NO range.)  But if you find it makes you crazy and miserable, it's time to either do something about it, or shut up about it.  You have it in your power to stuff your kid in his or her crib and shut the door for nine hours. Will they still do annoying things in the middle of the night?  Of course.  A lot.  Will you at least feel free to put a pillow over your head and ignore it?  YES.

So sleep train, or don't, but if you haven't even ever tried, then please stop complaining TO ME about it.

(We tried 'gradual extinction' with both kids, and they just screamed much harder, so 'shut the door and come back in the morning' it was. Bug also now earns stickers for staying quietly in bed at bedtime, and then he can buy a prize after 20, currently Transformers, which are the ideal prize: he would never in a million years get one otherwise.)

Three Years Of Housewifery

Three years ago, I walked out the door at Bicycle Company with  my stuff in a box, and I've been housewifeing it up ever since.

Some days it's fantastic.  Other days.... I'm sitting in the basement thinking what the hell happened.

I have traded everything else (money, intellectual stimulation, income, independence) for freedom to do as I please- provided it can and will be interrupted, at any moment, by small children.  I've traded smart, though often difficult, co-workers for mommy-friends* and being stuck at home with a wee, napping toddler.

Some parts are wonderful.  Sitting with Tatoe as he runs around the corner, plays peekaboo, and then says "Kiss mama!"?  Fantastic.  I've read about 900 books (no, really, I have); I've learned to knit; I've made a couple of good, lasting friends.  Bug is pretty fun to be around, sometimes.  I'm a little more patient, a lot more efficient, and more tolerant of the constant interruptions.  I have a sweet little garden, a pretty house, and everything I really need.  We go to the parks and kick around balls and investigate cattails and throw things in the stream.  We go sledding and build igloos and bake cookies together.  Also, I have health insurance.

Some parts are not wonderful.  Lingering chronic problems that won't go away, that leave me with weeks- or months-long pounding headaches.  (Surgery, here I come!) I wake up in pain several times a week.  Bug has started hitting (FOUR!).  I am really fucking tired of being poor.  No, really, I cannot express how tired I am of being poor, and if only I had a job, we would be quite well off.  I want a break.  I want time with my spouse.  I want enough energy to want time with my spouse.

On the other hand, we are moving close to family, and I will be leaving my kids with the grandparents.  I will be looking for a job.  I have weaned the child, which will take care of one set of chronic problems and will let me to take the good drugs** for another set.  And winter is almost over.  It feels like it takes forever for things to change - and it does take forever - but, slowly, it's getting better.

* Mommy-friend: Someone with whom you are friendly because you do not loathe each other, your children do not loathe each other, and you live close to one another; someone you might not otherwise care to know; usually possessing a fatal flaw such as vaccine denialism, a bizarre adherence to homeopathy, or a spouse with whom they terminally do not get on or who is a complete ass.  Distinct from Real Friends, whom one actually likes.
** Fluoroquinolones, which may cause permanent cartilage damage in infants.  Although Cipro might be okay, but I think I'd only take it if I'd been exposed to anthrax.  I've taken a lot of drugs in the last five years, and they were all safe, but these exceed my parameters. 

Failure To Compromise

Tatoe now takes one nap, around 11:30 or noon or 1 or whenever I manage (sorry, kid).

Bug goes to school 11:30-2:30 four days a week, with mandatory "quiet time" after school, and appears to be refusing to nap, except when he does.  However, last week when I tried to go the grocery store (out of everything but pasta, cheese, and onions!) it was a 30-minute-scream-a-thon at a quick march.  He fell asleep the minute we got home.  

Monday, Bug enjoyed a lengthy exile on the back porch with a ride-on tractor (it's 60 degrees and sunny) because Tatoe fell asleep and Bug had an emotional breakdown, kicked, thumped, and threatened to wake  his brother, at which point my head would probably explode.

In theory, this would be a great opportunity for Mama-Bug time.  In practice, after seventeen repetitions of "You may not grab things out of your brother's hands... okay, it's confiscated", I have no further desire to interact.  Also I have THINGS TO DO.  He's been extraordinarily unpleasant this past.... year... and frankly, my desire to 'manage transitions' shrinks every time he throws a 45-minute tantrum because he asked for one cookie, I gave him one cookie, and now the gods-damned cookie is gone and you can have another cookie tomorrow.  "NO!  Not tomorrow!"  Fine, not tomorrow!  Possibly never again!  (It's not the sugar.  He's had screaming tantrums because he ate the last pepper and we were out of peppers.)

I would love to not care, but he's pretty much intolerable.  Well, I'm sure eventually he'll get used to it and do something else intolerable, instead.

More Navel-Gazing Housewifery Angst

Several people pointed out that the Groundhog Day housewifery will eventually evolve.  This is true!  (Also an argument against spawning again.  We would have to do the whole thing again.)  It still feels like forever, right now.

I've been thinking (this is what I do while nursing) and really, I feel like I am just barely treading water, and also failing to get better in any way.  I'm not a better sewer or cook than I was two years ago.*  I'm definitely a better knitter, and a slightly better gardener.  I'm apparently still a kick-ass editor.** 

I am limited by material constraints. For example, a truckload of aged horse manure and a tiller would be favorite in March.  However, I have a Honda Civic, a plastic bin of Next City Over's compost, and a shovel.  Some things, I can't improve without more resources.

I've also devoted a lot of time and energy to living frugally.  Maybe that's what I've gotten better at.  If only it weren't so grinding and depressing.  Still, we're doing well: our income exceeds 200% FPL by precisely $107, but we still make extra mortgage payments, have college funds for the kids, and keep everyone shod, fed, and clothed.  However, it takes time to mend the clothing, wash the diapers, make the curtains, bake the bread, get the cheapest-on-sale wipes, and so on. 

The most annoying thing about having small children, of course, is the inability to do anything except in ten-minute intervals.  Please, someone, tell me that I will regain my ability to focus.  One day.  One of these years.

I don't want to not have children.  I don't want to not be a housewife.  But that doesn't actually make this any easier.  

* When I quit my job.

** Dr. S submitted a Big Fancy NIH Proposal and it was rejected ("You are too old and you are screwed"), but all four reviewers commented on how well-organized and clearly written it was.

Summer of My Discontent

(Written, oh, a year ago, and still true.) 

As you may have gathered, Dr. S really wants to leave his lab.  Any time now.  And I really want to go live in Virginia.  He still mostly wants to be an academic; I still mostly want to be a housewife.

Getting an academic job within a 400-mile circle is practically impossible.  However, if I wanted a job in my hometown, I could find one in about five minutes.  You see, their biggest transport company has a huge contract with with my former employers, the bicycle company.  I used to be the person telling them how to solve all their problems.*  Also, I would get paid a bazillion dollars and work reasonable hours.**  They might even hire me part-time. 

Most days, I want to stay home with the tots, never turn on a breast pump again, bake cookies, read books, feed the goats at the zoo, watch construction equipment.*** But it's hard to have this big problem in our lives, and know that, if only I would change my mind, it would all be solved.

Except it wouldn't be solved, because it's not the choice I want to make.  I would like it, and I would hate it.  I would miss the babies.  I would be tired and stressed again. 

If I were a little less useless and watermelon-feeling, it wouldn't be such a big deal.  But as a housewife, I'm largely a failure.  I mostly have dinner ready-ish when the spouse gets home; I hate cleaning, so I don't.  I read a lot and do whatever the hell I feel like (within very narrow child-delimited parameters).  Add in a new baby and it's going to be Tornado, With Pasta, Central around here. [Ed.: Now I feel like a fat slug instead of a watermelon.  And it's more like After Big Thunderstorm, With Pasta, Central.]

It's partly the pregnancy.  I feel so exhausted that I wonder if I should plan more structured things for Bug, but don't.  I mean, we go lots of places (playgroup, library, zoo, farmer's market, swim lessons, park, museum) and do lots of things (baking, reading, gardening, drawing, walks, goat-feeding), but I don't do Two-Year-Old Educational Time as a formal thing.  On the other hand, he talks, has pretty good fine motor control, follows directions (sometimes), can count to ten (now twenty!), knows all his colors, is potty trained, and sleeps 10 hours in a row every night; what more do I want? [Ed.: Um... we still do the exact same things all day.  Except I'm not pregnant.]

I feel so helpless and out of control.  I feel cranky and, paradoxically, like if I were running something professional, I'd feel better.  (Probably, I'd just feel more exhausted, and my house would be dirtier.)

I don't really have a point.  I'm just full of angst. 




*Actually, I was that person for the second-largest transport company in the country.  Which is about ten times the size of this one.  I do not exaggerate. 


**Not like a consultant's bazillion, but more than an academic.  Or I wouldn't work there.  But they'd be well-advised to hire me and pay well.  I'm a troubleshooter ("See trouble, shoot it") and would make a terrible peon ("See annoying manager, shoot it").

*** Today's post-nap monologue: "The pavement profiler chewed up the pavement and then the roller came by and smoothed out the asphalt!  The dump truck beeped!  The machine put down the gravel and the roller came and..."  Yes, he knows a LOT of truck words. (Bug was 2.5 at the time)