Purely Anecdotal

admin April 8th, 2011

I wanted to write a letter to you but
How can a mother tell her child how it feels
To tousle his soft hair, his thick mousy mane, in her hands,
To watch in the dim light of morning his chest flutter,
His eyelids stretched and translucent, mouth compressed,
How can I tell you how sweet are the moments when he reaches out
Just a finger to hold, or perhaps a treasure,
Offers up a sadness to be comforted,
And best of all that wonder of
The devotion your child feels, that boundless love, regiven;
The nostalgia of joy and awe echoed in
The face of her child, the one she made together
With the only other human she loves, almost
Almost as much as his son?

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admin September 17th, 2010

I can hardly believe that in a few months I will have done this professional writing thing for a full year.

All of it, the move, the worry, the excitement, and the frustrations of those first few weeks seem still so acute, so recent. Perhaps all this is because I am still unsure – unsure of where I will go from here, unsure of what I want to do.

I love writing. And I’m good at it. I always thought so before, but now I have some empirical evidence. And that feels good.

The problem is that I miss my son. Every. Single. Day. I know that many working mothers miss their kids. I know that many mothers work and have kids and do both well. I know that we will adapt. Hell, I think we already have. The pain of our separation has lessened, and my son seems resigned to the fact that his mother will leave him in the morning.

The problem with me is that I know what I am missing. I took care of him every day for 18 months and I know exactly what it means to stay at home with a child. I know how it feels to never get a shower and wear ill fitting clothes and worry about money and have food and dirt on me and not have adult conversation and have a cranky sick or teething kid, to change diapers and play the same games over and over. But I know that as much as I thought I would dislike all of that, I absolutely loved being, every day, with my child. I also know how it feels to have private jokes and conversations, to have him wake up and see me and smile, to know what is going on in his head, to have playdates, to see him delight in the wind, an ant, a hose, to see him confident in me, sure that I will never leave him.

I left him, and I know what I am missing.

I am missing the depth of knowledge of my son that I had when I was with him most every day. Knowing him like that made me, I am sure, a better mother. When he acted or reacted, I had a larger library of knowledge from which to draw. I knew what he had eaten and how well he had slept and what he had just learned, who he had played with and what had happened and I could put his behavior into context. My library is now incomplete. Parts of my son are lost to me.

I am missing opportunities to teach in those moments that present themselves suddenly, and without warning. I was with him when he walked and talked, found spiders, encountered new people, discovered rain, and tasted cookies. He fell and looked at me. I guided him every day. My mother is doing that now. And though she loves my son and she has been a mother, she is not me, and she does not teach the same things in the same way. And I think I am better.

I miss cooking, for him and with him. I worry about what he eats. My mother does not know about nutrition and she doesn’t take him to play dates. He is lonlier now. He is without other children. I worry.

And I can’t even think about having another child, a child I want, when I don’t feel like I have enough time with one.

So I am left to decide where to do from here. I love writing. I love my child. I am working on a solution. Maybe I can freelance. Maybe I can work three days a week. I will do something. Because as much as I love writing, I don’t love it more than mothering my child. And this is a surprise to me.

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admin June 18th, 2010

It has been a while since I have written a love letter to my son, and this is unfortunate as he is more fun now than he has ever been.

So here goes:

Things you do:

You see wonder in the world around you. You point out birds, and trees, trucks, airplanes, sirens and flowers. You marvel at rocks. You show me, force my face upward, to look at how the wind moves the leaves in the trees. You grin in the middle of a popsicle. You demand I order a rabbit back into our yard.

I suggest that we head to the park, and you throw your hands in the air. “DAAA!” you say (the best form of yes), grab my hand and lead me to the door. You know that 10 minutes is longer than 5 minutes and 5 minutes is longer than 1.

You kiss where I am hurt. You hug my leg. At night you ask me to sing to you, and sometimes you sing along. You love trains and especially their signals. You make high-pitched car noises as you move a car along the couch and quietly woo woo whenever we drive by the tracks. At night you rest your head on my shoulder. You put my hands back in place if I try to move them. You giggle and play and make up jokes. You run down hill. (Uphill you like to be carried.) You listen and respond to explanations. You sneak you dinner to the dogs. You splash in puddles and ask me to splash too. You talk to me. You ask me questions. You want me near.

I see you learn and grow. I watch you think. You are sweet and good, kind and strong. You like mischief. I tell you these things in the dark. I whisper in your ear. You are a joy to me. When you are happy, I feel happy. When you marvel at the world, I marvel with you. I have replaced my former life with a life with you. You make this life better. You are a gamble that I won.

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admin August 2nd, 2009

Infant

Who can tell you it will be like this?
I have a camera for watching him.
I eavesdrop on his sleep, his soft quick breaths.
Sometimes I love him best this way-
Powered down.
When he wakes I can feel my heart quicken, my body
Warms with apprehension.
He becomes to me a hidden explosive.
Tread softly, I admonish others.

And yet sometimes I love him best just when he wakes.
I race his father to see him.
Hands on the stairs I push my way up
As an animal.
I lift him up and breathe his skin. I celebrate him.
I produce my hip for his seat.
I run toward him and yet away I pull always.
I love you, come here.
I am tired of you, let me be.
Others, watching me, must find me insane.
Perhaps, I think, they are not so incorrect.

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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.

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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.

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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?

• Who Am I? , Reproduction , PhD jobs , Deep Thoughts
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admin April 15th, 2009

I am always suspicious of those who don’t read books. Just like people who don’t like dogs and prefer dreary weather, I know that there is just not something right with people who don’t read. I don’t care if you like sci-fi, biographies, murder novels, tomes of poetry, porn anthologies, whatever. A refusal to read is a refusal to learn, to imagine, to improve, play, explore, and be amazed. And if you don’t want to do these things, I just don’t understand you, never will, and that is how it is. Goodbye.

So unsurprisingly I have little sympathy when mothers who skipped (metaphorically) along in happy ignorance during their pregnancy are suddenly at a loss for how to handle this new monster/baby. Perhaps if you had done a little preparation, you might have some idea of what is going on. Now I know that reading all the books in the world will not fully prepare someone for mother (or father!) hood. But people, did you really think that God would just reach into your head and massage knowledge on all needed topics into your brain? If so, please go get into your car, drive to Costco, and buy their 500 pack of condoms because you, do not need to be procreating.

Seriously. I have some friends – smart, funny, great people – who seem to subscribe to the massaged brain brand of parenting and they have no idea why their kid is doesn’t sleep, eats crap, and does whatever she pleases. Well, perhaps, I’d like to say, because you suck at parenting but you don’t know that because you don’t read. I may be a little judgmental.

Of course you can’t just buy ALL the books. Some are better than others. Some have misinformation, or are badly in need of a better editor, or just say what you already know and thank you very much for that $20. So I thought I’d write down my list of absolute you-really-should-have-these-if-you-want-to-be sane-and-be-a-good-parent-really-you-need-to-buy-these” books.

For the first year or so (which is all I am qualified to recommend) you will need to know:

1. How to get that damned baby to shut up and go to sleep (soothing)
2. What is to be expected in terms of sleep, feeding, bathing, daily routines, etc. and how to accomplish these (basic needs)
3. Why is she looking at me like that - I think she’s plotting to kill me and squish my dead guts around in her fingers. (brain development)
4. When do I need to start baby proofing again? (general guide for milestones, etc.)
5. And possibly - I thought this breastfeeding thing was supposed to be “natural”!?. (Breastfeeding)

(Parenting and discipline stuff I’m just beginning to explore, since this comes much later.)

Here is what I recommend:

1. The Happiest Baby on the Block:

Ohmygod. I love this book. It made me much less scared during pregnancy, and more confident once the baby arrived. It made sense, it wasn’t preachy, it gave options, it KEPT MY BABY HAPPY. And best of all I knew how to get my baby to QUIT CRYING and GO TO SLEEP. It allowed me to put him on a good sleep schedule right away. It’s parenting crack. All during my pregnancy my husband and I would joke about the 5 Ss (shoot, stab, smother, shake…) but seriously, they work.

But this book is only good for 3-4 months or so. And if your baby DOES develop a sleep problem, there’s little help there. I’m eyeing The No Cry Sleep Solution just to make sure that there is nothing that I should be doing for the future, yet am not, but I haven’t read it yet. A book that I DID read after a friend sent it to me was Heathy Sleep Habits, Happy Child, and while the title is true the book was not at all helpful. In fact, this book FREAKED ME OUT and normalcy (and happiness) only returned once that book had been closed and forgotten. It made me mess with what was already a perfectly good nap and sleep schedule for fear that if I did not, my son would be come an axe murderer with ADHD. It is also in dire need of a good editor. (“Wait, am I supposed to be doing this now, or three months ago or five months from now?”) I am sure that if you have allowed your child to progress without any kind of sleep schedule, the warnings and methods in here could help you out, but they need to be presented more methodically.

2. The Moms On Call Guide to Basic Baby Care

I found this book to be a pretty useful guide. The DVD it came with showing things like how to give the baby a bath was also useful, though not as much as it could have been since I was given a similar (better) DVD by my hospital. I completely don’t agree with their suggestions to get your baby to sleep through the night starting at 2 weeks. I’m sorry. 2 weeks is just too young. I should also mention that I checked out their website recently and was surprised to find that their recommended products are the same ones that I have settled on as those I like best – with no prompting whatsoever.

3. Wonder Weeks

Ok, Ok, I don’t actually own this book. But man I wish I did. All the moms in my playgroup talk about it and how wonderful it is. I have found some info online but I really wish I had the full volume. If I have another kid I will buy this one for sure. It helps you predict periods of general fussiness and happiness in your baby, corresponding to how her brain is developing. It also clues you in to what her actions mean in terms of her increasing awareness. It’s awesome. Really.

4. AAP Caring for Your Baby and Young Child – Birth to Age 5

This book is full of useful information and is organized according to age. I don’t know if this is the absolute best one of these, but I like that it is written according to AAP guidelines.

5. The Nursing Mother’s Companion
This book is a thorough and easy to read guide to breastfeeding. I would hazard to say that it is probably the best out there. I had VERY little problem with nursing and still greatly appreciated having this book as a reference.

Those are my 5 books. I think that every mother needs to know this information. Some of them may be interchangeable with other titles out there – all except for Happiest Baby – a truly worthwhile purchase. And they have no idea who I am, honest.

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admin March 25th, 2009

Rebecca over at Girls Gone Child asked recently for readers to share a little something positive, a moment, a good deed, a “shiny penny” lying on the sidewalk. What a wonderful post. Though the comments are interesting, I find that few can best her writing. She is funny, timely, and honest, without whining or making you want to puke. What more can you ask?

I had thought that I left this comment over there, and was going to reproduce it here but I can’t find it and so will have to try to write it again. At any rate, I think that small snippets like these are so important to share. I know I went looking a while back and had a hard time finding them. People like me do not find it sufficient to hear that this parenting thing is “worth it.” People like me like to do the research and make that decision for themselves. And while parents love to share that great poop explosion story, I think such “shiny pennies” need to be chronicled as well, as proof, (anecdotal of course) that the good far outweighs the shit, when it happens. So here it is:

The other day my husband came home a little early, so we took advantage of the warm weather and yellow sun to take a neighborhood walk before dinner. I plopped my son face-out in the sling and the three of us walked, hand in hand, noticing to each other a soaring hawk, some wild violets, a new neighbor and his dog. Toward the end my baby grew a little fussy so I changed him over to the hip position to make him more comfortable. Tired, he held me close and rested his head on my chest, bouncing rhythmically, lulled by the sound of his two parents tell the news of the day. “He’s holding onto you,” my huz said. “I know,” I said. And back we walked to our home, to put our son to bed, to talk and make dinner for each other.

Such moments are what I hoped for when over a year and a half ago (that long?!) I asked my husband, “How about now?”

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admin March 24th, 2009

Things that are on my mind, in no particular order:

1. Teething. Sucks. Ass. I would be perfectly happy if my son gummed food for the rest of his life. How do people who work deal with the crying all night no sleeping god I wish I could just run away but my baby hurts and that makes it even worse please just sleep child nights?

2. There needs to be a grocery service for (new?) moms. I would totally join. I can handle everything else, but grocery shopping just doesn’t get done. And then I end up eating candy and beer. And not much else.

3. Michelle Obama is planting a veggie garden on the south lawn. I think that this is awesome.

4. Seriously, people. If you would just hire me, you’d see how great I am. Really. And then I could make money. And get my hair done. WAAAY overdue.

5. I just got done looking through old videos. Did I seriously think my kid was cute then? Because he is way better looking now. But not me. I pretty much look like the Wicked Witch of the West. I’m hoping its just the hair. See #4.

6. My body though, is hot. Thank you, breastfeeding.

7. I would like to solve a difficult and consuming problem leading to a sense of real intellectual fulfillment sometime soon. See also #4.

8. I do not think that babies follow the Laws of Thermodynamics. Well, not all the laws, anyway. They certainly fulfill the entropy requirement, but only in another universe can 2 jars of babyfood create 5 lbs of poop. Matter is not created or destroyed, my ass.

Maybe I’ll actually post something worthwhile soon. For now, internets, that is all.

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