Archive for the 'Who Am I?' Category

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?

My Terrible Secret

admin April 23rd, 2009

I love Dooce. (Does that make me, like, a follower? Well, I never sat at the coolest table anyway. And by the way, people, I started the whole gin and tonic fad. I was totally drinking them WAY before they become newly popular. Just saying.)

and

I am selfishly hoping that her experiences having a second child will help me figure out my own future second-child dilemma. Is that bad? Or is that what this blogging thing is all about?

My Shiny Penny

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?”

Random Tuesday

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.

I am reading you.

admin September 30th, 2008

I need to update my blog roll. Some links I know don’t work so well any more, and I have discovered some great blogs that i read regularly, yet aren’t up.

At any rate, if you popped over here looking for a good read, let me recommend the bean-mom, a molecular biologist PhD who just got a cool new science writing job (http://beangirls.blogspot.com) and ScienceMama (http://motherofallscientists.blogspot.com) a biologist Mom who sure could use some cheering up at the moment. There are several more great blogs I’ll link to as soon as I can muster a few good naptime minutes.

Please don’t think that if I didn’t include you I don’t like your blog or don’t read it. Most likely I do, but I really need to get the dishes finished before the huz returns from his walk with the pup and the kid. Incidentally, I am not going because I managed to break my little toe.

Non-science blogs I check almost daily are http://mihow.com/, http://mikeadamick.com/, www.sweet-juniper.com, and of course, dooce. Plenty more where these came from too.

Thank you to all of you who take the time to write and post about the minutiae of your lives, and to read and comment on others who do as well. I get so much wonderful information from your blogs. Just so you know, lovely internet science moms and other bloggers, I am reading you.

Teach a man to fish

admin April 24th, 2008

I have a dear friend who I very much enjoy, though we are in many ways opposites. She always looks put-together. I clean up well but usually spill something on myself in the course of a meal. She is tall and curvy. I am not. She shares the mysterious female psyche, and I like my male friends often have no idea how inputs match the outputs. But she is fun. And we have known each other a long time. And I can be completely myself around her – my goofy, extroverted, say what I am thinking self. And most of the time we really enjoy ourselves.

But she has some issues.

She does not do well with stress. It seems she has a “personal crisis” at least once every couple of months. She’s volatile. Sometimes she will be terribly hurt by some esoteric action or comment, which the offending person has no idea has transpired. She does not do well with criticism and she is the world’s longest holder of grudges.

Also

She has attended over 20 weddings, many as the maid of honor, and now several baby showers. She is the ultimate hostess, but never the guest of honor. She has never had a real boyfriend. She has never had sex. There is nothing she’d rather do than be a stay at home mommy with a loving husband and a couple of kids, but she’s pushing 30 and there is nothing going on in that department. She sees everyone else getting what she most wants, and she’s just not getting it.

So she asks me, “What am I doing wrong?” And the thing is I know what she is doing wrong. I could give her a list that would put her well on her way to having a great time, to finding someone special, to attracting those special people to her. I could actually help my dear friend find what she wants most.

But I don’t do it.

I don’t do it because I know that it would kill our friendship. Even if she ended up following my recipe exactly, all ties would be cut. I would have hurt her so badly, that she would never forgive me. So I keep my mouth shut, and watch, hoping that she’ll find her way in the dark as so many of us have done successfully, watching her bump around a room and never quite finding the door.

And in some ways I believe that this is her responsibility. This is her life, and I am not required to step in and repair it. But what are friends for, if not a helping hand, a voice of reason, a safety net, at new perspective? And I’m the honest friend. The one you go to if you actually do want to know if those pants make your butt look fat, or if you really are not sure about that guy or that job or those people down the street. Who else will help her rescue herself but me? And I don’t do it. I don’t.

Selfish and chickenshit.

Detox

admin April 3rd, 2008

Dear Internet,

I am addicted to you. I would much rather interact with you than write my thesis. But I really need to write my thesis. Therefore, I am asking you to please leave me alone. Let me write my thesis. A good way to do this would be to deliver a light shock every time I tried to access you for non-research work before my daily goals are met. I would really appreciate the help. Thank you.

-me

Lasts

admin March 19th, 2008

We are a people of firsts. First steps, first words, first days at school, first kiss, first car, first love…

Rarely do we recognize lasts.

And not because we don’t care, but because it is so difficult. Only death row inmates recognize their last meal. And “living every day as if it was the last” really is a recipe for disaster. If today was my last day I certainly wouldn’t worry about going to work, paying bills, eating right, making lists, meeting tomorrow’s deadline, laundry, resume prep, cleaning the bathroom, or all those other “planning ahead” things that make our lives run smoothly. I’d be eating pints of ice cream running naked through South Beach and skydiving. Still, sometimes I wish I remembered a few more of my favorite lasts.

I wish someone had told me to remember the last time my father would be able to flip me over his head, or the last time I would dance standing on his feet. I wish I had known that when my best friend moved we’d never really get back together. I still refuse to believe that I have played in plastic balls or collected static from a plastic slide for the last time. (Just you wait Burger King Kid’s playhouse!).But I do wish I had known the last time I would pet my childhood dog before she died. And I always make sure to tell my husband how much I love him before he leaves somewhere without me, just in case. Maybe knowing too many lasts would dampen the happiness in some moments, but sometimes I wish someone had told me at those instants to pay more attention, that just perhaps, I could try to commit this to memory.

This is why the lasts we do recognize are so very important. I truly enjoyed the last class I would ever have to receive a grade in. I can’t say I enjoyed my last final, but I did enjoy it being over. The last meal at the kiddy table was certainly appreciated, as was the last year I had to ask someone older than me for permission to go to the bathroom. My bachelorette party was most likely the first and last time I will ever compete in a wet T-shirt contest, and probably this is a good thing.

I think the idea of getting another chance to participate in some of these “lasts” is part of the reason why people consciously have children. I really hope to be able to at least look on as my son flies weightless in a swing, builds a rocket, catches bugs, sells lemonade, eats sand, and enjoys his grandparents. I will of course celebrate the firsts, but I hope I can also help him enjoy some of his lasts. Maybe I will tell him to pay attention, to commit the moments to memory, but most likely even if I knew a moment was a last, and even if I told him, he wouldn’t listen to me. Time is so infinite for children.

In the same spirit, I am really looking forward to my graduation ceremony coming up (hopefully) in a few months. Graduations are some of the few times we really get to sit up and acknowledge the end of something important. Graduation marks a last of achievement, not just growing up or growing old. This will most likely be my very last time to don a silly hat and cape, walk across a stage, and publicly acknowledge a job well done. I can understand those who would rather not deal with the crowd, the waiting, the thousands of other names called out monotonously just like theirs. But this, I think, will be it. And just in case, I don’t want to miss it.

Graduation, though, is never only about finishing, it is about starting something new. I hope to be able to walk across that stage wearing not only my cape, hat, and hood, but my baby as well – a last and a first simultaneously.

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