Archive for May, 2009

11 Months - Where Did They Go?

admin May 28th, 2009

Dear son,

I am remiss for not writing sooner. I feel guilt already for not getting down all those little moments that have changed you, changed us, really, the last few months. Those little tiny, insignificant, significant things that I fear will be forgotten forever. Do not think that this lapse means that I am somehow less in love, less interested, less enamored with you than with your first few months. Because the truth is that it is the opposite. I have not been pausing to document because I am too busy enjoying the moment. I have no idea when it happened exactly, but sometime in the last few months you have become a little boy. You have changed from the baby I loved, to the little boy who just makes my heart burst, and I don’t know how.

You crawl. You “talk.” You demand to eat our food. You grin at silly jokes. You squeal with delight. You find jumping hysterical. You laugh at the dogs. You snuggle me and hold me close. You rest your head on my shoulder. You arch your back and kick and scream. You say, “pshaw” but so far do not seem to know that it should accompany an eye roll. You smack your lips. You give kisses. You have a happy full face grin that comes with crinkle squished eyes. This is my favorite grin. You hold your arms to be picked up. You stand and try to walk. The world to you is an exciting place, and I am so happy to be there as you discover it.

Last weekend we left you for the first time for several days. You have no idea how long or how much I agonized over this event. I planned and prepared and still never thought that I could really go through with it. I was afraid that it would damage you forever. I was afraid that it would damage me forever. How stupid I am. You had a fabulous time. I know because your aunt sent pictures showing how much fun you were having. When I got you back you crawled more, ate foods that you never ate before, and seemed more independent. You also slept through the night. So long in fact, that your father in I felt the need to sneak into your room to check your breathing. So, you’re welcome. Perhaps we should do you a favor and go on vacation more often.

Knowing this, I feel much better about another huge change that is likely soon to happen around here. Your mother has finally found a job. Or a job found her. It is not writing, the thing that she is pretty sure she wants to do in the long term, but it sounds important and fun and best of all will come (hopefully) with some real money. But my dear dear baby, this means that I will no longer be able to be the one who plays with you all day, the one who notices those tiny changes, who finds myself catching my breath at noon on a Wednesday at just how incredible you are. But I hope that I can still do these things with the shorter time I’ll have with you. And I hope that by working I will teach you that women can work and be mothers too, that we must each do what makes us happy, and sometimes having a bit more money in the bank is part of that too. I am excited but I will miss you. I am not sure whether or not I hope you miss me.

May you do those things that make you happy. May you have a life as full as mine.

Happy 11 months, my son. What a time we’ve had.

Good Places to Visit (When you Aren’t Looking for Porn)

admin May 12th, 2009

Do you read PhD Comics? Because you should. And not because they are a hilarious daily procrastination, though they are, but because they are just SO TRUE. I think that I will direct any young naïve little thing asking me about grad school there with strict instructions to read, beginning to end. Then if they still have the courage to proceed, THEN I will write a recommendation.

http://www.phdcomics.com/comics/archive.php?comicid=360

Also, I was bopping around the internet today and found THIS! Signed my little self up and everything.

http://www.scientificblogging.com/

My First

admin May 10th, 2009

Today was my first Mother’s Day as a mother. Today my husband rose early to make me breakfast (eggs, strawberry pancakes, biscuits, bacon, coffee, OJ) while also entertaining my 10 month old son sufficiently that he made no protestation loud enough to solicit me from bed. Today I slept in, and I ate well.

Today, after sitting out the morning nap on the couch, I went hiking with my family of three. My son’s first hike was a steep mile long trek to the top of a mountain with a commanding view. Carried in a pack by my husband he made little noise, mesmerized by the new sights and sounds, the people with their dogs and children of all ages, older couples, younger couples, people for whom, like us, mother’s day meant a day outside. At the summit (if such a short “mountain” can have a summit) we looked out over the expanse of city we left behind. The city is always more beautiful from a distance.

I have contemplated upon occasion what animal I would choose to become were I to be banished from the species of human. I have considered puma and bear, horse and antelope. But what I would most like to become, I think, is a falcon. I would like to soar in the wind, circling, diving, eyes sharp as a telephoto lens. It must be exhilarating for a young chick to grow into the realization that she is a falcon. It must be incredible to realize that you can soar. Such gorgeous creatures. Such eloquent engineering. I have seen them fly above me and wondered how differently my world must look to a bird of prey.

Today just as we were thinking of beginning our decent we looked out toward the city spires for one last moment, and there it was, hanging. Just hanging in the sky so still that at first I absurdly thought it a kite. But then my mind saw it for what it was - falcon. She was riding the wind so perfectly, her movements so balanced, that she appeared to hang in the sky, weightless, more ghost than animal. I watched her several minutes as she floated. And then in a movement so swift and confident that I could not help but to let out a collective gasp, she folded her wings and dove. Down, down she dove with incredible speed before again unfolding her wings in the wind to ride the currents. It was truly incredible. I make an effort to consciously file wonderful moments away for times of loss or unhappiness or old age. The idea is that by doing this I might hold onto the memory for a little longer. I hope to keep this one for a long time.

Today was my first Mother’s Day. And though I hate hate hate to admit it, my mother was right. I did not understand her until I became a mother myself. Until I saw this baby boy of mine who smells of bath soap and baby hair, who smiles toothy grins and clings to me and adores me, and thought to the future when he will want his space, when I will be old and weak and embarrassing, until now, I did not know how vulnerable this job would make me. I did not understand how those times I fought to distance myself from her, she was remembering that sweet baby. The one who smelled of bath soap and baby hair. The one smiled toothy grins, who clung to her and adored her.

I will guard myself against the future with days like this, perfect days, days of incredible joy and beauty. I will show these things to my son. I will take him on more hikes. And maybe, just maybe, even when I’m weak and old and embarrassing, he will remember days like this, and he will need to pull away just a little less. Maybe he too will have held on a little to that sweet baby.

Today I took my baby on his first hike. I took him up a mountain to see the city. When I held out my hand he laughed, and grabbed for my finger. Today was my first Mother’s Day.

It Really IS All They Think About

admin May 8th, 2009

Me: So what do you want for Father’s Day? This is a really big deal, you know, being your first Father’s Day. I’ve got to come up with something good. Something memorable, that you would really enjoy. Any idea what you would like?
Huz: Ummm, sex.
Me: What? Seriously? That’s all you want.
Huz: Yup, us men are easy to please.

Erosion

admin May 7th, 2009

The weather is gorgeous. My baby is happy and healthy. I have a wonderful husband. We have several fun trips planned, and our money situation at least right now is getting better.

I feel lost.

It is coming up on 10 months that I haven’t had a job. And this is really bothering me. I have never NOT had something waiting for me, something to strive for, something concrete when asked my plans. Even in grad school when I hated the work, I had a plan. Why can’t I find something? Do I need professional resume help? Do I need to spend more time looking? How do I do that when I have this baby I need to look after? Do I need to narrow my search? Quit trying to write and just do what I was trained to do? Should I suck it up and sell our house, make my husband quit his job, and move my family to whatever institution will give me a post-doc? God, is it that I am just NOT GOOD ENOUGH?

I feel like there is a train nearby on its way to my ideal life. I can hear this train. I know it is near, but I search and search and just can’t find it. And I know that eventually the train will pass by, and I may never get to that perfect place. Ever. No matter how hard I work, or how badly I want it.

I am forgetting what I learned. I am becoming obsolete.

I can imagine dozens of idyllic paths. I feel paralyzed, knowing that each one necessarily negates the other, and (reality check) right now, I am not on any of them.

One of the things that really bothered me about graduate work was the lack of feedback. Whereas in school, virtually every effort is graded, I felt adrift as a graduate assistant. Was what I was doing right? Could I be doing better? Were the other students better at this than me? Should I be working harder? Where was my A? During the first 2 years or so I drifted slowly slowly into a depression. I sat for hours in front of my computer, listlessly reading, searching for something that would make me feel better. The internet, I must say, never delivered. One day, I sat in my car in front of my house and fantasized about launching myself into the nearby ditch. Fortunately, soon after this incident my advisor and I had a heart to heart and I started to do better.

And now, I have less. Even less. No one knows what I do all day. No one is here to celebrate my accomplishments. There is nothing to add to my resume.

And I am starting to feel that corrosive pull. Those doubts. Those cagey thoughts. Maybe I will never find a job. Maybe I will never get to do what I want. Maybe I should have waited to get pregnant. Maybe I have made a REALLY BIG MISTAKE.

The danger is that it is so subtle, so gradual. It takes time to really lose oneself. I feel the first tiny currents. I know this feeling. What do I do?