Housework & Me

The problem with knowing & reading so many great stay-at-home-mom bloggers is that I read more than my fair share of posts about housework. Particularly in January, it seems, as everyone is trying to get their households under control as part of New Years' Resolutions. Me--not so much. Or if I am, my definition is different: arrange to have the car daily in order to pick the soon-to-be-eleven-year-old up from school, make sure that all of the bills get paid in any given month, learn to get an infant and a toddler in the car by myself. I've been doing pretty good with two of the three--I'll leave you to guess which ones.

My standards of housework perfection are simultaneously high and low. When I read the blogs of stay-at-home moms, I think, "Gee, if this person does this stuff all day while I sit at the computer & read blogs while trying to find the 'correct mental state' for dissertation writing, how must my house compare and should I care a teensy bit more about it?" I frequently feel like I haven't done a single productive thing in a day (don't ask what my definition of "productive" is--I couldn't tell you, except when the mood hits!) I don't feel like I'm an adequate housekeeper--or houseworker (that is, "doer of housework")--though I do, paradoxically, perhaps, feel myself to be an adequate homemaker. Perhaps that's where the contrast comes in, I'm not sure. . . But home maker seems to imply an attitude and an overall effort to make a house--and a household--home like, which seems to be something beyond mere neatness or organization.

So anyone who actually pledges to stay home & take care of cleaning, etc., as a full time job has my admiration, and if I imagine myself in comparison to these individuals, I will almost certainly feel that I come up short. I think of my grandmother, who had a task for each day of the week, including weekly vacuuming and dusting (!), and whose house always seemed perfect. (Vacuuming and dusting are only to be done if guests are expected, pine needles accumulate, or dissertation writing is being put off.) I was illustrating her system of washcloth folding to my son over the weekend: the washcloths had to be folded in fourths, but all in the same direction, so that the stripe was on the top of the folded towel and parallel to the folded portion. Everyone who took a bath at her house had to wipe out the bathtub afterward to maintain a clean tub! Obviously, I will never strive to that kind of perfection. But I wonder if, in the grand scheme of things, I am that much worse than my peers, or if we merely harbor different goals. . .

In a given day, I know there are things I need to accomplish. I need to drop off my husband and son in the morning so that I have the car in order to pick them both up in the afternoon. I need to make sure that the toddler has at least 2 meals (or as close to two meals as I can manage) before picking up Brother and Daddy. I need to feed myself a reasonable amount of fairly-nutritious food. I need to give the toddler a nap. I need to bathe myself, either before the dropping off or during the napping. I need to change at least 2 toddler diapers before the nap. I need to accommodate the needs of the infant, allowing her or helping her to sleep when necessary, feeding her on demand, changing diapers as necessary. Those are the essentials! I may give some thought to dinner early in the day, but by the time supper preparation time rolls around, I may have changed my mind! Other tasks happen when they happen, and are governed by necessity: if someone has worn all of their pants this week, pants need to be washed. If the dirty clothes is overflowing the dirty clothes receptacles, multiple batches are in order (they used to be washed on the weekends, but laundry is no longer something that can be accomplished all at one time. . .). If the clutter is becoming overwhelming, straightening up is on the agenda. If bills need to be paid, I wash some more clothes--you get the idea! ;) During semesters when I teach, papers are graded before they need to be returned, and class prep is accomplished during the days on which I teach if I teach in the evening. The point being, I prioritize tasks. Often if I want to accomplish one particular thing, like cooking a pot of soup or two from my favorite Monastery Soups cookbook, making blankies or some other sewing project, or baking a king cake, for example, something else (hopefully not toddler meals) gets pushed aside. Hey! Some things can wait! I put it down to a quality of life issue. And I'm not always this laid back about it, as my husband, who does a considerable amount of "what needs to be done" can attest. But I am opposed to scheduling my day. I don't think it would make things less overwhelming or make my day seem more productive. Rather, it would emphasize what I have been unable to accomplish in an unhealthy way. I do enough of that on my own!

I am not what most would consider organized, but I have enough of my grandmother in me that I could be--really obsessively organized. (The perfectionist gene manifests itself differently in each generation. I received more than my share.) So when I organize, I really organize. When I wash clothes, my batches include darks, blue jeans, lighter mediums, darker mediums, lights, white clothes, reds, light towels, colored towels, and baby clothes. So I stay away from opportunities to organize like the child of an alcoholic avoids alcohol. 'Cause daily life doesn't have to be that perfect, especially if sanity and happiness (yours and others') are lost in the process. I scoff at visiting picture-perfect professors' houses (yeah, like those children's books would be stacked just. so. on that antique chair if any real children lived here!!) Mess is part of life, as long as it's not unsanitary.

Now, clearly I do not think of myself as a stay-at-home mom. I share a lot with stay-at-home moms. For starters, I am usually home with my children all day during the week. I do not choose to put my children into others' care while they are small. In fact, I don't like to put them into childcare until preschool--part time--at age 3, if I can arrange it. Even then, we start with 2 or 3 half days a week, and I am very selective of the facility, preferring Montessori. My son only went to kindergarten part time. And yet, although I am home a lot, I do work outside of the home. I am not currently full-time, and I hope not to be (2-3 classes is enough!!). I choose my hours as much as possible to make things convenient for me to stay with my family. But I am not a stay-at-home mom. And I wonder if this influences my perception of housework. I really don't think of housework as part of my vocation--it's just something unpleasant that needs to be done, and everyone pitches in to keep everything running fairly smoothly. And it works! There are frustrations, and a certain big brother needs to become accustomed to his share, but it does work. In a given day, I--or we--accomplish enough to be able to sit down in the evening and relax a little knowing that the tasks that will not wait are taken care of. And at the end of the day, that's what's important.

First Post of the New Year

The new year arrived quietly at the Literacy-chic household. I was on the computer perusing the blogs and my mother was on the floor cuddling the toddler before she had to leave today to return to New Orleans. The 10-year-old was trying to get to sleep, while my brother was in the shower. The Chiclette was, I believe, in her bed, and I seemed to have misplaced my husband in this memory. . . We only realized that the new year had begun, bringing and end to a pleasant holiday visit, when we heard a small cacophony of fireworks and realized that the "Happy New Year"s were in order.

I have relaxed my attitude towards New Years over the past couple of years--as the family has grown and staying home & spending a normal, comfortable evening has become more attractive. I guess I'm growing into my age and my family. (hahaha) When I was an undergraduate, I had a friend in a French class whose family was Vietnamese. She told me something about Vietnamese culture and belief about the new year that I will never forget, and which made the new year more significant: that what you are doing when the old year passes into new is what you will be doing the entire year. I believe that the New Year's Eve after I heard that was not a very interesting one--I likely spent my time moping, being lonely, and generally feeling sorry for myself. All I got out of the following year were some poems--go figure. However, the year after that, as 1995 faded into 1996, I spent New Years' Eve with my husband. It was our third date. The first, which I initiated, we went to my favorite pub, which I knew (through mutual acquaintances) that he liked also, to see a Celtic Christmas performance by Danny O'Flaherty. Afterwards, we went to see the lights at Christmas (now Celebration) in the Oaks in New Orleans' City Park--again, something we both enjoyed. We talked the whole night, and even as early as that first night, he mentioned marriage (mostly conversationally, once more specifically--in a joking way), and I was surprised that I was not put off by the mention of the word, as I had been with other dates. Our second date was much less formal and came after our mutual interest was reestablished after a few weeks incommunicado during a bout of bronchitis that left me concerned about his interest since the ball was clearly in his court!! So our third date found us, on New Year's Eve, at dinner, and a movie, and roaming around New Orleans trying to find an open coffee shop(!), then on the levee watching fireworks. That New Years' did not hold significance for that year alone, but for a lifetime. So we have this to smile about every year, whatever else we might do to celebrate.

The past year has been both difficult and, in retrospect, amazing, as I might say of our married life in general--difficult because of circumstances (and, sometimes, my attitude towards them), but amazing because of love. A large part of the year was occupied by a emotionally and physically exhausting pregnancy, the anxieties of which I have chronicled here. I have had toddler trials and ten-year old trials, and I believe that I am learning to learn in a new way from God's Grace and the wonders of my children. In addition to my own wonderful birth and amazing daughter, I have been more or less involved in the pregnancies of several friends--and for the first time in my life I have friends with whom I can share motherhood. I have also found friends with whom I share faith--and Faith--and I have had the almost surreal experience of making friends online--including getting to know more closely or keep up with people I knew only in passing, or could not keep in touch with easily. The year has seen a number of spiritual obstacles, which I suppose are natural. Someone should tell new converts that the euphoria of conversion is difficult to sustain and to live up to. This may be for the best, or we would all abandon our families to pray all day and night--and then when would we blog? ;) But in the challenges of my growing family, I have found time for meditation and prayer--as I am rocking my toddler. So while the growth may not always have been apparent, I enter 2008 with the hope that the insights I have gained from difficulties encountered will blossom in the new year. Although it feels like the dissertation has remained pretty much the same, I realize that I finished revising 2 chapters in the spring and almost completely rewrote the introduction from only the proposal, which was not yet fully realized, and wrote a new chapter this fall that is almost complete. I have ideas for the conclusion, and have begun the second-to-last chapter. It sounds like a lot when I think about the finished product rather than the process. In spite of the exhaustion of the pregnancy, I taught 2 classes, one in the heat of the summer, and one in the last months of pregnancy, showing (to myself if not to others) that it can, indeed, be done. Our family has a new life in our midst, and a new home in which to nurture her. Newness speaks of hope, and it is with prayerful hope--especially for my mother and my grandmother, and my aunt who has cancer not likely to be cured--that I greet the new year. I pray that I can remember this side of difficulties as I face them in 2008.

My hopes for the new year include being able to maintain my family's finances, finishing the dissertation, finding employment that allows me to keep my baby-friendly schedule. I hope to balance my time with my children, remembering that even self-sufficient ten-year-olds need their parents' time and attention, to keep a clear path to walk through the apartment at all times, and to cook meals at home consistently. I want to renew my spirituality, whether that means finding a path to spirituality at home or deepening my connection with God through the sacraments or C/church more generally. I am looking forward to being able to schedule our daughter's baptism--hopefully for this month. I want to renew my personal devotion to the Eucharist in particular, and to learn what that means exactly!

A side note: I find myself keeping baby names in reserve. Has this birth made me more "open to life" than I had been? Do I understand that better now? I do think that 2008 will be a pregnancy-free year, but after that, who knows?

That's as close to New Years' resolutions as I will get. . . I am surprised at how much I have learned, and how blessed I feel looking back, though it did not always seem so at the time. Wishing you all blessings and all of the hope that a new year implies!

~Literacy-chic

Not so Bad After All. . .

FYI--Things have been going well on the 10-year old front through the weekend. I believe there might have been some misunderstanding and embarrassment making the disrespect seem worse than it was. So when my mother departs, we will discuss things further, but a lesser punishment (or an earlier reprieve) may be in order. However, the threat of present confiscation has produced a more conscientious child. Maybe he & I are okay after all! However, there have been lessons learned all around about how your words and actions influence how you are perceived as a person. And about balancing honesty with tact, for want of a better word!

Pre-Teen Discipline Strategies. . .

I've mentioned before that I've been having ten-year old trouble (and toddler trouble. . . in fact, I seem always to be complaining about something). It is escalating into almost 11-year old trouble. Not even the pre-Christmas threats seemed to make a temporary impression. Admittedly, we have had some special circumstances over the past several weeks. My brother has been staying with us until my mom could come back up from Louisiana, and they are 2 1/2 years apart. My brother also has rather a challenging personality. So they did tire of each other's company. But my son has adopted the attitude that he is better than everyone everywhere--an attitude he likely gets from his parents, both from our example and from messages we have given him. He is unkind to his sister, his uncle, and disrespectful to his parents and (especially) to my mother. This has me perplexed. I am a lot of things, but I always show respect to my mother and family and others' parents in particular. Basically, I am respectful to those whom I consider deserving of that respect, or to whom I am expected to show respect. I know, I've just incriminated myself. But I have always tried to teach him to be respectful. I have also always considered him very empathetic. Not so. In fact, he has very little regard for others' feelings, especially his sister's and my mother's. Now, my own siblings are very disrespectful towards my mother, but I have never been. I have, however, been honest--too honest, I now believe--with my critiques of teachers in particular. I felt like I should be honest with him about what I felt were their shortcomings so that he did not feel like teachers were always right. I have, in short, created a monster, and it is coming back to bite me. Perhaps I was too young to know the consequences of these child-rearing choices and attitudes towards others, though my intentions were good--I have mellowed in the past few years in particular, especially since becoming Catholic. But I am left with a problem child who can please when it suits him and he needs to put on a show--or at least that's how I feel, and what my mother thinks. There are certainly those who tell me that he is a good child. I have always wanted to believe that--and have been successful. After all, I have been defending his existence in my mind since he was conceived. But I am no longer sure. Yesterday, he acted and spoke to my mother--currently my house guest--in a way that suggested that he had an authority in my house that was above hers. And then, as damage control, he gave me a significantly slanted version of the story. In the process, he has lost all of his Christmas gifts, including his brand-new iPod Nano, his one big present. Christmas Eve I was lamenting his behavior and feeling unenthusiastic about giving him presents. He has disappointed me greatly, but my standards are high--not impossibly so, but high. I don't expect him to be any more than I was at his age: helpful, respectful, responsible, generous. I spent $61 on a fundraiser for orchestra in November so that he could get a free candle. I thought he would give it as a present. He did not. Heavily pregnant, I made a pair of pants for his Halloween costume in an afternoon. He expressed no gratitude. A few months ago, I was able to buy the one thing he wanted most for Christmas--a Nintendo Wii. I bought one on the spot when I happened upon them at Target. I kept it overnight and returned it the next morning. There were many reasons for the return--cost, not wanting fights over the television, thinking the living room was too small, dreading the toddler's frustrated attempts to play, not wanting to feed the obsession. But had he been better behaved these past few months, most of those things would have been overlooked. See? Santa doesn't give naughty children the same consideration. That iPod was a luxury, though, and I debated whether it was appropriate. It was at least more "serious."

I hate posting things like this, really. Such posts leave out the big picture. Unfortunately, the bad attitude has clouded my perception of a host of positives, including his near straight-A grades, his loving moments (which are only moments, and are select), and his occasional willing help (which is too infrequent), much as his arrogance about his cello-performance clouds (in my mind) his accomplishments (the line between pride and arrogance is painfully thin). I hope that all who read this, in particular the bloggers we will soon meet, do not judge him (or me) too harshly. I only post this now because of my proposed resolution. . .

Because this was a serious offense, we debated about punishment. Taking away treasured things or privileges for a set period of time (or indefinitely) is ineffective--he simply waits out the punishment with little attempt at reform. Guilt is temporarily effective. I hate to use the Church and Sacraments as a child-rearing crutch, though I was thinking that weekly confessions might not be out of order. What else is there? Well, I don't like the rhetorical strategy of saying, "I prayed for an answer," but, well, I did. I had already decided to take away the Christmas gifts, but for how long? And what would be accomplished besides causing hurt and resentment? I found a web page that suggested rewards for positive behavior. It sparked an idea: He will earn the return of the gifts--slowly, through acts of kindness, generosity, respect, responsibility, and reparation. I plan to make a chart listing the items and how many stars will be required to earn an item. At the end of the day, his efforts will be analyzed collectively, and stars may (or may not) be awarded. I do not anticipate a star every day. In this way, the items will be recovered through his own efforts, and the behavior might become habitual. Hopefully, the acts will be genuine--a real "turning away." Anyway, that is my theory. Any thoughts?

Family Dynamics

. . . are a complete mystery to me. And I sometimes wonder if they are influenced by heredity. Birth order has always been interesting to me as well. And I don't have to tell anyone that I was concerned about my own family dynamic--so far, so good, but time will tell. . . But as the oldest of 6 children, and the only one from a first marriage, I have found myself feeling, well, different the older we all get. I am also the only one married and with children, and I was born just about 6 years before my oldest sister, and 17 years before my youngest brother. So I have always been the responsible sister, not the fun sister. This is more awkward since I'm not taking care of everyone (well, maybe I took care of my 13-year-old brother for a little while recently, but it feels different since I'm not a teenager myself anymore. . .), and now that they are all old enough to "go out" and "hang out." *sigh*

Merry Christmas!

I'm 33 minutes late (sort of) and severely sleep deprived, but I wanted to wish everyone a happy and peaceful Christmas throughout the Christmas season! Wishing blessings to you & your families!

The Secret of the Universe

Evidently, it's getting up early. Who knew? Legions of morning people, apparently. So that's going to have to be the routine. :P

I am an evening person. My most productive hours for writing have traditionally been between 11 P.M. and 2 A.M. Even if I get up early, I can't go to bed before 11:30. In the mornings when my toddler was smaller, I would drop my husband off at work (one car) for somewhere between 8 and 8:30 (which required leaving the house between 7:45 and 8:15), then return home (most mornings) and climb in bed with her & snuggle. This was also her favorite time to nurse until after she was a year. The pattern (minus the nursing) remained constant while I was pregnant, and since the baby was born, I have not really had to get up; I merely relinquished the car. Since I allowed my permit to lapse, however, parking has been rather pricey for my husband, and we can't really afford that. Sleeping in is a hard habit to break. And yet. . .

This morning, I wasn't necessarily planning to get up & take the car. Yesterday I was planning on it, but my alarm clock (aka husband) didn't know the plan. I was also exhausted from a busy day on Tuesday. But this morning, Chiclette woke up to eat, and Doodle, who was in our bed after a Post-Nemo Traumatic Stress Nightmare (we have to be very careful what she watches or she wakes up yelling "Help! Help! Momma! Daddy!"--very sad) woke up, too. So I figured, what the heck? I knew it would be a challenge if Doodle fell asleep on the way home to get both babies in the house from the car, but I did it! Carrying a 35 lb. or so toddler with an infant car seat over one's arm is not the easiest thing in the word, but it is doable! That is something I was dreading, frankly. But I now realize that I can get both children in and out of the car by myself under various conditions. (Small triumphs)

So I got home with both babies asleep, put Doodle in her bed, took a bath, ate a PB & J, sorted clothes, started a batch, pinned a blanket front to the fleece back & stitched around the perimeter, and sewed two 4-square rows of a Christmas blanket (adult sized) that I'm making--all before Doodle & Chiclette woke up at around 10 A.M. Yay!! Now I'm ready for a nap. :P I can see this being a good time to work on the dissertation. I don't do intellectual activity well in the mornings, but that's what Limited Edition bottled Peppermint Mocha Frappuccinos (from SAM'S Club) are for!

So there you go. Most of you caught on to the Secret of the Universe before I did, but I generally have to be dragged kicking & screaming into these things. I'm still not completely happy about this, but at least Chiclette sleeps from 6-8 hours in a typical night! (So yes, it is possible for breast fed babies. She'll make up for it when she hits a year, I'm sure.)

Incidently, the Secret of the Universe for Toddlers is different, and consists of two words said often in rapid succession: "NO! MINE!!"

It's Getting Better All the Time. . .

Apologies if I've been lacking in the inspired post category lately. I did want to catch everyone (who is interested) up on the various dilemmas I've posted about. So far, no miraculous insights into toddler management, but incidents are becoming less frequent. She sometimes lets Daddy rock her for a nap and at bedtime, I wait until Chiclette has nursed for a good while to bring Doodle back to be rocked. Chiclette has reached a stage where she no longer nurses every 20 minutes or so and can be comforted by other means. She is even getting used to a pacifier (though we only use it occasionally). She is very easy to console. So for the 40 min or so it takes to get Doodle to go to sleep (she likes to be rocked & cuddled), Chiclette is generally content. (Yay!)

I also wanted to let everyone know that my mom is doing better, too. Circumstances are improving. She came to visit in October, then went back home a week or two before Chiclette arrived. She left, and left my brother (the 13-year-old) to stay with my sister. He has been with us for the past few weeks. Though the house is still without plumbing (no bathing, no flushing toilets--very bad) and in rather sad shape (she is confined to two rooms, the roof leaks badly in many places), she has hope of making progress towards resolving the legal issues that are currently preventing her from accessing the insurance money and money from The Road Home. The Road Home people have been helpful with resolving legal issues. In addition, though she lost her job with Starbucks job because of missed work due to health issues and from staying out of town too long to bail my sister out of an unfortunate roommate situation, it was on good terms, the health issues seem to have improved some, and other work has surfaced. Specifically, she has been working for and with a photographer friend on shoots, printing, office work. . . all manner of jobs. She is paid well, sometimes in advance, allowing her her to catch up on house notes. Hours are not fixed. It is pretty much ideal. In addition, she has been making and selling jewelry--an ongoing business for several years now that has been doing well recently, as she has added new pieces, including religious themed items. She has unfortunately had some reminders that New Orleans is even less safe than before. . . Today, for example, someone shot at her from the levee and hit the car she was driving, just inches from the window. But overall, things seem to be improving, though still far from ideal. I wanted to take some time to thank those who wished her well and sent prayers. Thank you!!

Good News for Next Semester! and Thoughts on Answered Prayers...

I found out yesterday that because one of the goals for the department is to lower writing courses (Intro to Lit included) to only 21 students, and because this involves making sure all open sections are as full as possible, my course has been canceled. Instead of teaching, I was offered a position working in an administrative office with revisions to Intro to Lit. Yay!! Not only do I enjoy the course design aspect of teaching, I will be able to do most of my work from home (a mixed blessing, but more good than not), with as little as 2 hours/week in the office.

I'm not very good at waxing poetic about blessings and answered prayers, mainly because I've always kind of felt that it was arrogant to suggest that something happened as a result of prayer. Some people do manage to make it a matter of arrogance; they were just so darned holy that everything they asked for--the promotion, the new car, the great sale on designer shoes--was provided by God specifically for them. I met a lot of these people at various churches I attended when I was young, and it left a bad impression. I developed the idea that humility (though I didn't have a name for it) involved thinking oneself too small to merit such favors. I wasn't thinking about that one lost sheep, I guess. That insecurity of faith (which I guess is the best way to characterize it) is a hard habit to break. I also don't want to fall into what I still see is a kind of arrogance. And yet I can't deny that this is an answer to my prayers of late. I just didn't know how I was going to make it work--the teaching, the family. . . My prayers have been of the "You have given me my family, and allowed me to pursue this career. Show me what you have in store for me--how I am to make this work, or what my alternatives are. . ." variety. Well, this certainly feels like an answer to that. At times, as well, my prayers have focused more specifically on what next semester would hold. This is a subtle reminder for me to trust in God, a topic I have been reading about on Et-Tu, Jen? She speaks directly to my persistent anxiety.

What I wonder is, after being in the habit of relying solely on oneself for so long, how even to contemplate turning it all over to God. Though I called myself a Christian (of sorts) for most of my life, this was a concept that was alien to me. Now I find I am called to that kind of trust. I think this is more characteristically Catholic than Protestant, especially as family is concerned (though not exclusively). I sense a long journey ahead, but lessons like this one certainly ease the way!

Some things I do like about Christmas trees. . .

Just so that no one thinks I'm a total stick-in-the-mud. . .

1) The finished product

2) The star my husband ordered for us the first year we were married3) Ornaments my son made every year as presents at his Montessori school (we have 3 similar to this one and a felt gingerbread face pillow he made in kindergarten!)
4) Snowflakes crocheted by my grandmother

(note the chili pepper in the upper part of the previous frame--we collect chili pepper ornaments!)

5) Candid photo opportunities!

Why I don't like Christmas trees

1) Choosing the perfect one

2) Wires

3) Bare spots

4) Perfectionism (mine or other peoples')

5) Fragile ornaments

6) Already overcrowded apartments

7) Tree stands

8) Frustration (mine or other peoples')

9) Undecorating

10) $$$$$

Toddler Trauma, or Toddler Testing??

For the past few weeks, my toddler, whom we might call "Doodlebug" or "Doodle" has developed a new preference at bedtime. While I was pregnant, my husband almost always rocked her to sleep at night, especially during the latter months. If she expressed a preference for me, it was rare, and if I did not comply, she was generally not too worked up about it. This has changed, however. Instead, she wants me to rock her to sleep every night, on pain of wails, sobs, and generally uncontrollable crying. The problem? Without fail, the Moosette wakes up crying, needing to be fed or needing to be pacified in a way that only Momma can, just as Big Sister-doodle is settling into Momma's lap. Momma has dealt with this in a couple of different ways. A couple of times, Moosette & Doodle have snuggled into Momma's lap together, which Big Sister doesn't mind at all, but this poses a problem when little sister wants to nurse--the logistics are all wrong. Also, the Moosette has grown in the past couple of weeks, and Doodle is much more likely to get feet in her face than she was initially, which doesn't bother her, but isn't conducive to sleep, either! Letting Moosette cry a bit isn't an option, because Doodle takes too long to go to sleep. And again, the crying Moosette keeps Big Sister awake, either from concern or noise. Handing Doodle off to Daddy is a common "solution," but generally results in several minutes of very sad, very loud crying. This does nothing for Daddy's ego. She may be moving toward just lying in her bed to sleep at naptime, but not at night. The way I see it, one of the girls feels brushed aside whatever I do. I'm contemplating letting Moosette take a bottle while Sister is rocked, at least a couple of nights a week, or putting Doodle to bed as soon as Moosette eats, whenever that may be. Of course, Moosette likes marathon nursing sessions at night, too.

Incidently, the problem is worse when Doodle has had a shorter-than-usual nap. . .

Now, this could be simple toddler manipulation, but I doubt it. Ever since I came back from the hospital (where I stayed 2 nights while Moosette was observed for possible infection--a precaution), Doodle has awakened in the night crying for me. She had nightmares in the past, but did not specifically call out "Momma" or "Mommy." So I'm wondering if she latches on to me at night because she's afraid of my leaving in the night again. My other thought is that, while she is very patient and understanding when I care for the baby throughout the day, she sees bedtime and naptime as two times when I should be hers unconditionally. She has motioned for me to give the baby to Daddy (tried to move her there!) and tonight, when I walked in to the bedroom to relieve Daddy of screaming toddler duty, she looked in my arms and said with dismay, "A Baby!" (Other times she will wake up from her nap and look in the baby's bed and say, "Where's baby?" with equal distress, fearing that the baby is missing if she is not there, especially if the baby is crying.) It certainly makes sense that she would want Momma & Doodle time. It is an emotionally draining challenge that ends the day in the Literacy-chic household.

Babies In and Out of the Womb

I read the Q & A below (only the beginning of the answer) on the web page for Mothering Magazine, here. I find that it raises some interesting points about the personhood of the infant in the womb--or, rather, it indicates a latent assumption that the infant in the womb is indeed a person, something that much pregnancy literature does--while at the same time suggesting that the infant outside of the womb is still so closely linked to the mother that they remain a single unity--suggesting a continuity with the existence in the womb. This is the language of carrying and bearing children, but there are actual pieces of evidence alluded to (though not cited) that support this claim. They can be contradicted, of course, with and without evidence, but they ring so true! I often wonder how these things can be denied.

When I was in the hospital (a Catholic hospital run by a religious order) and my husband and baby were in the room, too, a member of the order entered my room unannounced, asking if we were Mr. and Mrs. Hernandez. We were not. So she went over to the little clear bassinet and admired the baby, giving her a blessing, and then said with a sigh that these little ones are so precious, it is hard to imagine that anyone could want to harm or kill them. I wondered what specifically was on her mind. It was kind of a surreal moment, and comes back to me sometimes, especially when I read horrible news stories about children being killed by their parents, or when I read things like this that stress the connection between mother and unborn/newborn child (do note how the author of the response gently corrects the term "abandoned"):

I have two questions that may be seen as sides of the same coin: how does being abandoned as an infant effect the emotional growth and stability of a person? What are the lasting repercussions on a single mother, or father, who chose not to raise their child, and hence, gave their baby away?

When you say "abandoned," I'm going to assume that you mean, "How does it affect an infant to be permanently separated from his biological mother?" (Usually in this situation the infant isn't technically "abandoned"—as in the fairy tales of babies left alone in the woods—but has other caring adults around to care for him.) Certainly a newborn already has a potent connection to his birth mother at birth; we know this from lots of research into fetal learning, etc. And there is an actual biological process already in place for laying down important circuitry in the brain of the baby (and of the mother, too!) in the hours and days following birth. So when this process is disrupted by separation (for adoption, but even for the shorter periods virtually mandated by standard hospital protocol, to "clean the baby up," and do all the other unnecessary things like pricking, prodding and testing), the baby does suffer at a psycho-biological level (as does the mother.) The cascade of pleasure hormones (including oxytocin, the "hormone of love") that nature designed to make mom and baby enraptured with each other when they remain in skin-to-skin contact in the hours following birth may also play an important part in establishing lifelong "set-points" for feeling pleasure, satisfaction, and contentment. But when separated, and this does not occur, levels of cortisol (stress hormone) rise in the baby's blood, which—depending upon variables such as the infant's temperament and upon any protective factors in the baby's environment—can impact the level of growth hormone and even negatively impact immune function. (As an adopted infant, I contracted pneumonia as a six-month-old—definitely not normal!!) This kind of cascade of stress hormones (especially when it is happening instead of the cascade of pleasure hormones) is suspected to contribute to the baby growing up with a decreased tolerance for stress. And though there may be other caring adults around, we do know that newborns know who their biological mothers are, and who they are not—via pheromones, voice quality, heartbeat, "vibe"—and it is their mothers they want, and need. In fact, from the newborn's perspective, he or she is not differentiated from the mother: they are a mother/baby dyad, at the levels of neurobiology and physiology—a single unit. So for a baby to be made prematurely "an individual" in his or her earliest hours, days or even months does indeed present a challenge for that individual's future growth and stability.

What do you think?

(Read the whole answer, it's well worth it!)

Status Update with Random Thoughts

Things have been going well lately, but though I've wanted to sit down & blog (or at least answer comments from previous posts!) I can't seem to manage a whole post. I've got some partial ones saved, but that doesn't count. In fact, a bulleted list of random thoughts about things that have happened lately is more my speed right now, so here goes. . .

• A thought to add to Sarah's 40 reasons to have kids: Holidays are more fun when you have young children whose innocent delight reminds you of how to enjoy the trappings of the holiday!
• I have finally had success with a baby carrier! A pouch sling that I made from the directions on this web site. So now I want to make more for myself!!
• Things have been going much more smoothly with the toddler. She seems better able to understand what we want, and we are more able to communicate to her. Perhaps a breakthrough? (She's so sweet, I hate to sound as if she's trouble, and I hate to see her cry in anger, hurt, or frustration.) :(
• Newborn screenings are a pain. My baby has tested positive at the 2 week screening for a rare enzyme deficiency that only occurs in 1/60,000 infants. Yeah. She tested positive--along with 3 other 2-week-olds tested on the same afternoon at the same pediatric department at the same health insurance run clinic. Can we say lab error? Can we also say 4 sets of stressed parents??? Waiting for results from the retest. :(
  
• I did have some thoughts on discipline, but I have lost them now that things are better on that front. My brain can only hold one or two things at a time these days.
  
• My toddler is peeling off the little stickers on the back of breast pads and spreading the pads across the floor, but I'm nursing and can't stop her. And you know what? I don't care even a little! ;)
  
• Someone once told me that if you pray for patience (for example), God may not give you patience so much as the opportunity to exercise and so develop patience. I've thought about that a lot lately, like yesterday, when my toddler was trying to pour herself a cup of water out of the 1/4 full gallon jug. I went over to help her just as she inverted the jug, pouring water on the table, herself, and the floor. It was one of those slow-motion moments when you just can't seem to do anything. Soon, the gallon was empty, and she said, "Uh oh! Rain!" I laughed, sighed, and cleaned it up.
• Yesterday I managed to put both babies to sleep all by myself! Today, I managed to bathe & get dressed while they were both sleeping. Now, if I could only manage those two tasks on the same day. . .
• Another thing that having babies does is this: Children help their parents analyze and develop how they practice their faith (that is, when they aren't disrupting said practice of the Faith by driving the parents to distraction in Mass!!!) ;) In the coming weeks, we will begin planning for the baby's baptism. A thought that occurred to me is that, while I feel competent enough to teach my children the ins and outs of the practice of Catholicism, where I feel I am lacking is the ability to teach the love and awe--of the Church, of the Church as the Bride of Christ and of the Church as representative of the Body of Christ-- basically, awe and love of God through awe and love of the Faith that unites us. Is this something parents can teach? Likely. I frequently take lessons from Melanie and Bella (such as this one, and this one, and this one). I don't believe it has to be taught, but how wonderful if we could give something like that to our children! And if it begins growing in early childhood, hopefully the child will always have that as an anchor. But I don't know how to teach it. It is at these times that I realize that I am still new at this, and wonder where to go from here. . .
• I love Advent!! I love the decorations, the readings, the music--especially "O Come O Come Emmanuel," which I had never heard before I became Catholic. It is the time of the liturgical year when I most feel the awe and love--of God and the Church--that I mention above.
  

Hope to post more in coming days, if I can. I think the prospect of a unified post intimidates me lately, so I may stick with the bullet format.

Book Recommendations?

I don't read parenting books. Having said this, can anyone recommend any sensible ones (Catholic or generic) on parenting toddlers?? Or if not, could fellow-bloggers ask for recommendations from their readers? Thanks! This is blogging-as-support group, I think. . .

Posts (Real and Intended) from This Hormonal Mom

Well, I can't say that I haven't had some blogworthy ideas lately, but I haven't felt like actually blogging them. I want the ideas to be "out there," so to speak, but without the effort of actually posting them--you know, typing in the URL, clicking "New Post" . . . That's where I get stuck. Once I'm here, it's like rolling off a log. Especially when I use tired cliches like that.

I thought about posting for Thanksgiving, but I couldn't decide whether to post something negative about how holidays raise false expectations or muster up some things I'm thankful for (I do have a number but posting them might seem a little redundant) for a sentimental post (actually, Chris strikes a nice balance here!). . .

I had one in my head about Sesame Street, in reference to this article, and one about the response I wrote to a company (one of the many) that feels the need to address parents' concerns about safety in the wake of the recalls of Chinese-made products. I would still like to post on these, but don't hold it against me if I don't manage it. . .

Here I am, nearing the end of week 3 with my new baby. My husband is getting ready to return to work on Monday. And it's getting tough. The first 2 weeks seemed to fly by quickly and easily. I was recovering well. I had energy. The toddler was sweet. The baby was sleeping a good 4+3 hours a night. And I could reminisce about the birth experience. All I had were minor annoyances--the normal postpartum stuff and then the limitations that I have been gradually ignoring: not picking up the toddler, not leaving the house with the newborn, that kind of thing. But reality is setting in. When I'm not holding one child, I'm holding the other one. Sometimes I'm holding both (though when I'm not tired, that can be really sweet). If I'm not nursing one, I'm looking for something the toddler will eat or feeding my baby's milk supply (most of the time, actually. . .). I feel both in demand and completely useless, since I've been warming my corner of the sofa/futon for the last 3 months of the pregnancy and the first 3 weeks of the baby's life. If I have any clothes that fits me, it is buried in the Closet-of-Rubbermaids and I haven't been able to access it. So I'm still sporting maternity fashions which, while comfortable, are getting blissfully but annoyingly loose. (I'm only 5 lbs. from my pre-pregnancy weight-which was still too much!)

Things cross my mind, like the dissertation--I wonder when I will finish? The fact that I HAVE to finish. . . Knowing I won't have a job past the spring. . . Knowing that even if English offers me a teaching assignment for the Summer (but these are in high demand and if I'm not a grad student, my chances of getting one are less likely), classes are only offered during the day every day of the week, which would require a perpetual babysitter or away-from-home child care (neither of which is possible). Similarly, next fall and spring (if hired by the department) I may not be able to keep my evening schedule, and I would have to teach at least 2 classes as a lecturer to match my current salary as a grad student. If I get hired by anyone else (which would necessitate applying), my problems will be worse, because I don't want my babies in daycare. But then at least I could afford it, might be able to limit it to 3 (part-)days a week, and my baby would be a year (give or take). I'm also worried about not being home 2 or 3 evenings a week in the Spring (because of teaching), the impending expiration of my financial aid, the impending repayment of the same financial aid, and incidentals like needing new tires.

Do I want to stay home all of the time? No. Do I think I could? Not without getting frustrated & depressed. ('Cause that would be different.) And unless my husband found another job that paid $15,000 more, we couldn't do it financially either. (Not being greedy & materialistic here, just thinking about current payments--and that's considering that I just finished a consumer credit program that paid off our first impoverished years of marriage!!) I also worry about simpler things like how to control the rambunctious toddler (or at least keep a good rein on her) and how on earth I will ever be able to leave the house with the two of them. The toddler does not hold hands. She runs in her own direction until forced to do otherwise. My son was not like this. I have visions of loading both children in the stroller (which, having failed to hear from the person who offered to give mer her double sit-n-stand, I ordered for myself. . .) to stroll them from the apartment to the car, 10 yards or so away. . .

So where is that Little-Engine-That-Could attitude? It has gone the way of the Dodo. Actually, it was a pose. I've been putting you all on.

Well, now I have to go clear up my broken water glass that I knocked off the arm of the sofa. *sigh* Will be back to check incessantly for comments. Sometimes I think blogging is an unhealthy addiction.

P.S.--Any lurkers. . . Pleeeeeease don't tell me that God is calling me to be a stay-at-home mom, much as I respect those who I know who are stay-at-home moms!! You may believe it about me if you wish, but I've heard that before, and it's not really helpful nor do I believe it to be true. (It's kind of like telling someone who's married that he should have been a priest, because that's his true calling.) Thanks! ;)

I Wimped Out and a Pregnancy Retrospective

Actually, the phrase "cop out" comes to mind. I have been feeling guilty about taking the baby out, which I've done a few times (which is a few times more than I'm comfortable with). So did I spend my time at home with my baby? Well, no. But I didn't go to the talk, either. After taking her out yesterday and trying out the sling, I decided I needed more practice with it before using it ANYWHERE. She cried when I was putting her in it! She didn't do that the first time I tried, though she is a few days older and more aware of things now than she was the first time. I am a failure with slings & things overall, but I am determined to make one work! And then there's the nursing--while she nurses extremely well, her nursing habits are not yet well-formed, if that makes sense, so I never know when she will fall asleep, when she's really finished, when she will start to fuss again, etc. So I thought that maybe this would be rushing it a bit. Convinced? Well, all of these things were factors. But perhaps I realized, too, that it really wasn't how I wanted to spend my afternoon. I wanted to listen to the talk & participate (although I did NOT feel like doing anything academic last night--I was a bit hormonal, truth be told, and had had a day with a lot of emotional ups & downs). However, I'm enjoying having all of my family around right now (husband, two daughters, son when he's not at school). So while I'm finding myself positively climbing the walls because I want to go places & do things (and NOT rest!!), I don't necessarily want to do them alone. And I want to do important things like shop for strollers, not frivolous things like attending academic talks! (Priorities, priorities)

So these weeks are proving difficult for me, NOT because I am feeling so bad and suffering from lack of sleep, but because I am feeling so good. The curse of a quick recovery is that you want to go back to the things you were doing before, NOW--not later. In my case, I am feeling better now than I was throughout most of my pregnancy. I don't mean to sound like the pregnancy was bad--it wasn't. I had a few aches & pains, but they were never constant or severe. No swelling at all until the end, and then barely worth mentioning. But I was tired. Soooooo tired. The kind of tired that feels drug-induced. My waves of tired reminded me of the irresistable sleep of Benadryl. Complete with the hangover. And this had been with me since the summer, regardless of the iron or vitamins or diet (or caffeine, some days). So for the first time in months I have my normal energy level again, and my mind and my body alike are relieved. I know, how odd--a new mother who claims to have energy. Well, I guess my body finds making milk easier than nourishing a growing baby inside. I have been pregnant or breastfeeding (and for a while, both) for almost 3 years now, and I guess my body is saying, "O.K.--this is the easy stuff!" Also, the baby is sleeping. Shhhh! Don't tell! A breastfed baby--sleeping! Well, it doesn't hurt that she emerged the size of a 1+ month-old. So for the past few nights she has slept for 3- and 4-hour stretches at a time, allowing me as much as 7 hours of sleep a night, and last night she actually slept for 5 hours straight. Even in the hospital she would sleep 3 or 4 hours, which made me more nervous then because my toddler had a really hard time "waking up" after birth. She wouldn't wake up to eat. And then she became jaundiced, and our problems multiplied. But this baby isn't sleepy. Not that way. Even in the hospital she woke when she was ready to eat--and only when she was ready. And she still does. Although she will sleep longer when held--like now for example. She is on my lap. (I like to type with a baby on my lap--provided she's too young to try to help!)

I also feel better mentally than I have in months. The whole pregnancy was filled with "what-ifs" for me. . . and now they're gone. The baby is healthy, she fits seamlessly into the family, the toddler doesn't feel threatened, and I do indeed feel like doing things (and I feel like I can do things!)--all worries that I had while pregnant. She is sweet and beautiful and I love her. And I guess I know in a more tangible way before--from renewed experience rather than just theory--that babies are possibilities rather than difficulties. They make us resourceful. They lift us up rather than weighing us down. But I have realized that after my toddler was born in October 2005, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, with family difficulties all around, with the circumstances of her birth--3 weeks early, her jaundice, her sleepiness, her weight loss, I was stressed, I was exhausted, I was weighed down, and I believe I was depressed. I looked at the time, and I did not have the textbook symptoms of "postpartum depression." For one thing, my negative feelings were never directed toward the baby. But I was depressed nonetheless. I did eventually "snap out of it," which, for some, might indicate that I was not depressed. But what snapped me out of it was the decision to make an appointment with a counselor. I canceled the appointment, but from that day forward, things became better. And then I became pregnant (well, not immediately. . .). But it's not difficult to see, with so much negativity following the birth of my second child why pregnancy might inspire mixed feelings ("openness to life" notwithstanding--but I think one can be "open to life" but not prepared for it. . .).

And then there was the birth. I have mentioned before that I had pitocin for my first and second because of leaking amniotic fluid without contractions. The second time was a disappointment because it was a repeat of the same scenario, though there were elements of satisfaction--like only pushing for 15 minutes and no episiotomy, only a slight tear. But the memory of intense, unmanageable pain was too recent. I was afraid. So that added to the anxiety of the pregnancy.

What have I learned? That I love my babies. That my family is strong enough to accept new additions. (My toddler--who met the baby only 11 days ago--thinks her as much a part of the family as any of us now, and includes the baby when she wants us all together.) That my body can go into labor on its own, quite efficiently, and that I can deliver a baby with minimal medical intervention (or does what I did qualify as no medical intervention? no--there was an IV--hate those things). That I can manage pain. That the first two weeks postpartum can be easy--actually easy!! I think I needed to learn these lessons. And finally, that quick recovery makes me stir crazy!!!

(More LDR talk to come--sorry!)

Babies & Academic Professionalism

Okay, so the baby (the Chic-lette, as she has been named courtesy of Mrs. Darwin!) is not even 2 weeks old, and I already have a professional dilemma of sorts. I asked my adviser for his advice, but he is, admittedly, male, and didn't feel qualified to answer this one!! (Although he did say that he would have no problem personally with the situation I described.) On Thursday, there is a colloquium I would like to attend sponsored by the university's humanities center. A fellow-graduate student is presenting a paper on D. H. Lawrence, whom I am working on right now (trying to wrap up that pesky chapter). Actually, I think attending might jump-start my attempt to finish (if one can jump-start a wrap-up). My problem? Very small baby (well, no--very young baby!), exclusively breast fed. First issue--she is very young. I have doubts about whether I should have her out & about, but she would be kept very close to me and I'm about to lose my mind staying home most of the time. Every day or every other day I have to get out--usually just a quick ride in the car (with the baby), but it helps. So this actually sounds more attractive than it might otherwise! Second problem--silly as it sounds, I don't want to draw too much attention to myself (and my baby) or to seem like I'm trying to draw attention to myself. I'm imagining people thinking that I want people to ooh and aah over the baby, when in fact, my attitude toward such things is more the "No thank you, please don't breathe on my baby" attitude. Third--and the biggest--issue (I won't say problem) is the breastfeeding issue. The department is currently filled with swarms of mothers who do or have breastfed. Even so, there are a number of different attitudes present about the correct time & place to do such things. Many of the other grad student mothers also have alternated with bottles of breast milk or formula, which, even if I decided to do at some point, I would not do so early. The grad coordinator, who possesses a different generation's feminist notion of the place of children in one's professional life, made a comment once in a class about the scandal of a prominent scholar breastfeeding at the large national conference. In that case, it was recognized as an attempt to draw attention to herself. In my case, it would not be, but it might be interpreted as such. While generally I scorn those who are offended by breastfeeding in public, I feel a bit different about professional situations. This might be because I hate professional situations. In general, I actively seek to avoid them. Usually, if people I know are involved, I don't mind as much, but in this case, I feel awkward precisely because there are people I know involved. I don't particularly want to be sneered at with my baby for violating professional decorum. And at the same time I hate feeling hesitant. I don't like playing the game, really. Especially when I don't agree with what passes for "rules."

UPDATE: Well, I just learned that the scadalous example of breastfeeding at the national conference "featured black fishnet stockings, a black letter (maybe leather?) bustier, and a male attendent" and was not "run of the mill breastfeeding." Ha!! I am much amused.

A Breastfeeding Blog with GUTS and a little bit about me

I discovered the Black Breastfeeding Blog a few weeks ago, and I've been waiting for the right moment to introduce it. There's so much to like here, including the author's investigation into historical photographs of black women breastfeeding that are simply FASCINATING. But I was waiting for the one post that spoke to something close to my blog's world. . . And, well, this one struck a chord with me--a post with attitude by a woman who feels no need to be apologetic about the choice she has made to breastfeed, even though they are not the choices that other women have made. I find it odd anyway that promoting breastfeeding as the best (i.e. healthiest) choice for mother and baby should be so politicized and sensitive, as I've indicated before.

. . . . .
Posts are likely to be slim for a while, as my brain is occupied in many directions at once. I'm still keeping up with my class, thinking about dissertation work (and maybe inching closer to actually finishing that chapter). I'm feeling better than I should considering I gave birth less than a week ago, nursing is going great, and the toddler really does like the baby (she even threw a fit in the hospital because she thought the nurse was wheeling away OUR baby!!). There are little attention-seeking behaviors--she makes herself cry, for example, in a little squeaking "waaa"--perhaps because the baby gets so much attention when she cries that way! And she wants extra mommy-time (quite naturally). But overall, things are good. I don't feel like the world needs to stop & let me catch up, nor do I feel (as I did when the toddler was born) that I don't really want to catch up with the world anyway. The baby is beautiful, and I can't believe that a week ago I was still waiting for her. Blogging ideas are just slim, that's all!

I did it! She's here!!--UPDATE

Well, having finished blogging and gone to bed after a contraction or two at 12:30 or so, I was awakened at 3 A.M. (or so) by my toddler whimpering in her sleep :( and another contraction (they seemed only to come at 3 A.M.). This was it! In not too long, I realized that they were coming rather quickly, but I didn't think they were lasting long. Not so, but the tough part was over quickly. I managed pain courtesy of back rubs from my husband (who barely left my side in spite of his efforts to pack things) & an on-the-knees position. I took one bath at 3:15, then another while my husband picked up my brother (the only one of my siblings who could make it at that time) to stay with my other two. I had already had a bath before going to bed (which means that I probably went to bed at more like 1 A. M.--adjusted time). I arrived at the hospital at 4:30 or so, waited for a while to be escorted to Labor/Delivery, where I delivered a beautiful healthy girl at 6:07, with no anaesthesia, no pitocin, no episiotomy, and no stitches. Yay!! Even had I wanted anaesthesia, it wouldn't have been available to me. I'm still a bit overwhelmed by it all. I mean, less than 12 hours ago, I was wondering how much longer I would have to be waiting. Now she's here! The nurse thinks that the only reason I didn't deliver at home or on the way here was because the water didn't break. Hah! Considering that's what happened the first two times. . . The doctor was going to rupture the membranes, but she didn't have to. The baby is 9 lbs. 0.5 oz. Oh, and vocalization helps immensely! At times, I probably sounded like I was doing voice exercises. Anyway, I can't believe I'm blogging this!! Not even 12 hours later! But I couldn't sleep. I'm riding on a serious adrenaline rush.

One regret at this point--they put her on a blanket on my chest, but I haven't been able to breastfeed or really hold her. She didn't cry enough immediately to get the fluid out of her lungs, so they took her to the nursery to observe her. She's O.K. now and sleeping, or so I hear. So I guess I'll see her soon. I keep having, "Okay--I want my baby now" feelings. Hey, I worked hard for that baby (for three hours)!! :)

UPDATE: Okay, I had her weight wrong. *ahem* She's 9 lbs. 8 oz. She beat her brother's record by an ounce and a half. (!!!!!!!!!)

I also did get to hold & breastfeed her, finally. It is 11:40 now and she just left (after a little over an hour) to be re-checked for temperature and oxygen level. But she nursed very well before she left. She's a natural! A little moosette (since her brother was our little moose!). ;)

Pregnancy & Grad School: Are We Behind the Times?

By "we" I mean the university where I currently teach/dissertate. Apparently, I and the other grad student moms are not at all behind the times! In fact, we are doing exactly what we are supposed to be doing, much as our early-wave feminist professors were doing as they were supposed to be doing (and as, in many cases, they think we should be doing) by waiting until their careers were well established before having their families (if, indeed, they ever did choose to have families--whether they just never confronted the choice, didn't have time, or chose consciously not to have families). I actually feel fortunate at this university that so many of the female faculty in my department do have children, if I haven't mentioned it before in quite this way.

So how, then are we behind the times? Well, while I was poking around seeing how people found me on sitemeter, I came across someone who did a Google search for "grad" and "mom" (or something similar). In addition to my own post, which likely didn't really fit what the person was looking for (Google is good for that), I found a few articles of interest. First, it seems that the Chemistry department at Stanford implemented a "pregnancy policy" in 2005, providing for pregnant grad students who held assistantships with the department to have “a 12-week period intended to accommodate late-stage pregnancy, childbirth and the care of a newborn"; though the article does not specifically mention whether the stipend would continue to be paid, I thought this was the implication the first time I read the article. Concerns raised were the exposure of the mother to chemicals and breastfeeding, and admirably, the question of whether 3 months (a WHOLE 3 months!!) would be enough time was addressed. Equity among graduate students as professionals-in-training, who should be treated in a manner analogous to postdocs and faculty, was a motivation of the department, as well as encouraging and maintaining women in the profession. On the whole this surprised me, given that it was a branch of the sciences rather than the liberal arts that was choosing to codify this policy, even though the rationale (chemicals, etc.) makes sense.

In 2006, only a few months after the first article, The Stanford Daily reported on a university-wide pregnancy policy for grad students, "a new policy with six weeks of paid leave, automatic deadline extensions and a way to maintain full-time student status." While acknowledging that the policy could offer a competitive edge over other grad schools for some (really, really special) applicants (the average pregnant prospective student wouldn't be courted by Stanford, after all), the paper seemed to think that this was a gesture toward respect for mothers rather than an attempt to attract students. I liked this statement on the subject:

The new pregnancy policy is a perfect example of how the University shouldn’t be making excuses about women in the Ph.D pipeline when the University can do things about it. This policy won’t just attract women who are planning to have children soon; it will attract women — and men — who value a true commitment to diversity.

Interesting to hear grad student families evoked under the heading of "diversity." MIT is mentioned in the article as having such a program already.

Our school's newspaper wouldn't find such a thing newsworthy. Pity. But that could be the culture. When many undergrads are looking for husbands so that they don't have to use their degrees, how would an undergraduate-centered publication even have a frame of reference from which to address this topic? *sigh*

Stony Brook State University of New York passed a related initiative on September 26, 2006, the Stony Brook Childbirth Accommodation Policy. "SB-CAP includes provisions for academic extensions, relief from regular teaching, research, clinical and/or training duties and interim financial support from the Graduate School for students that receive stipend support as Teaching Assistants, Graduate Assistants, or Research Assistants."

Excellent! So when is our turn?

I have been fortunate, finally, to receive some support, though the arranging of things was very stressful and contributed to my overall lack of progress during my first trimester, when I was kind of frozen in shock, wondering how this would work. The department decided, for continuity's sake, to hire a lecturer as a substitute for my class (in part so that my students didn't become too disoriented). I will continue to operate aspects of the class via the online course interface--hopefully, there will be some online discussion of the final work on the syllabus. Then, there are poetry presentations, based on their first papers, to cover a bit more ground in poetry. My substitute will be primarily responsible for taping these. After the presentations, my sub will oversee 2 peer workshops to help the students finalize their research paper drafts. And that's that! I have still to comment on paper topics & thesis statements, working bibliographies, grade an annotated bibliography, a research paper, and a final exam (which I will be writing sometime in the future). But I won't have to set foot back in the classroom.

That is, until January 14. That's going to roll around fast. I think I'm depressed now. *sigh*

The good news is that I teach at 5:30--after my husband gets off of work. So he will watch the teeny-tiny, the toddler, and the big brother while I am in class 2 days/week. Also, I am teaching the same thing as this semester, and doing it the same way, so very, very little prep (aside from reading/re-reading the things I didn't read/re-read this semester). But being away from that teeny-tiny is really going to be a bummer. And I will certainly have to bend my no-bottle policy and pump so that my husband isn't left high and dry (hah!) if the nursing schedule doesn't work out exactly right. It's very daunting. Maybe I should just focus on waiting for the teeny-tiny right now. She'll be 2 months when classes resume. Oof.

And I'm supposed to graduate in May? Good luck.

Where do the tickers go from here?

Considering I'm now 40 weeks and counting. . . No baby yet!

I've started drinking "Labor Ease Tea" which is also supposed to "support uterine contractions." The directions say to start drinking 1/2 cup every hour on your due date, but not to exceed 3 cups in a 24 hour period! Here's hoping! I'm a little ambivalent about trying to get labor to start, though. I've had a few painful contractions (all in the middle of the night). I don't really want to go into labor in the middle of the night--I think I would get less panicky if I were fully awake. So every now and then, I'll try a pressure point or drink some tea and think, "Wait. . . I'm trying to start this??" On the other hand, I have had a lot of pain lately from the baby's bottom pushing up--and one serious heck of a stretch mark that actually seems to have torn the skin a little; clearly, she is trying to bore a hole through my belly!! Ouch!! Today I have had some relief from that. Perhaps she has dropped a bit more. Anyway, that's my update.

In other news, I stopped teaching on Tuesday. I gave my students All Saints' off--otherwise, attending Mass would not have been possible for me. Next week, they begin presentations, which will be videotaped. I told my dissertation director a while back (jokingly) that I made a deal with the baby that she wouldn't come until I was finished my current chapter. I'm hoping the baby doesn't make me keep my word!! ;) At any rate, I suppose I'll work on it some tonight. Truthfully, I'm almost finished.

Weird Reactions to Pregnancy. . .

Just went to the office of my apartment complex, where the manager of the complex remarked that she didn't realize that I was pregnant! Well, I have pointedly been avoiding the place 'lest they do the calculations of number of people; I'm hoping that they don't remember that we only have a 2-bedroom!! (Of course, I grew up in a 3 bedroom, 800 square foot house with as many as 8 people at one time. . . Standards for space are difference in Texas--our apartment is over 1000 square feel and only 2 bedrooms.) There is always someone in the last few days of a pregnancy who didn't realize I was pregnant, but then, I don't tend to broadcast it, either. But I was doing the "idle chit-chat about the due date" thing and said that yes, this one was being stubborn. To which the complex manager replied, "The last one usually is!" Huh?? Now who, indeed, said this was the last one?

Last Tuesday, I was heading to teach my class--waiting for the elevator (to go down to the second floor--disgraceful)--when I saw the wife of my dissertation director, also an academic in my department, whom I know to have slightly odd mannerisms from time to time, but my family has visited with hers, and we have had Thanksgiving at their house (the first time by open invitation to anyone in the department who didn't have family close by--it was kind of a tradition for them to do it). I hadn't really seen her at all throughout the pregnancy, and, well, I'm kind of large these days. So I said hello, and she asked how my son was doing and whether he was looking forward to--wait for it--Halloween! Slightly taken aback, I said that I wasn't sure because he hadn't really mentioned it all that often. Then, she said, "Well, I guess he isn't looking forward to it, is he!" at which point, my dissertation director walked up, gave me a big smile and a "Hey!" before his expression changed to one of puzzled confusion--mirroring how I was feeling pretty well. *shrug* By that time, I had missed the elevators, and had to wobble down the stairs instead.

The Worst Thing about this Potter Controversy. . .

. . . Is that, unlike most of the people involved in the "debate" (which for me is only a debate over whether the author's comments in the media have authority surpassing that of the text itself), is that I'm just starting to read the book, which my son has checked out from his school library. So as I'm reading, I'm either completely mocking the idea (uh oh, Dumbledore's brother "fiddled around with goats"!) or anticipating how one phrase or another might--scratch that, WILL--be used to argue for the truth of Rowling's "revelation." Suffice it to say, I am reading with the eye of a critic rather than an eye to leisure. Which kind of defeats the purpose of reading the books for me. If I didn't suspend my inner critic to a large degree, I wouldn't be able to read them at all. 'Cause frankly, I don't think they're all that good. They're sloppy, and this latest stunt is a continuation of that sloppiness--Rowling's attempt to include in the "next installment" an idea or aspect of the fantasy world that did not occur to her in the previous installments. This time, she couldn't write another book, though, because she promised she wouldn't.** And writing in homosexuality for a future edition would just be a tacky and paltry admission that she hadn't done it in the first place. The inconsistency has bugged me all along. So I read them in the way others read romance novels--as an entertainment and an escape. But this time, my unwillingness to pay for a hardback has backfired.

I have, however, been enjoying the debates from the perspective of literary criticism and what people think about it. Considering that I teach it (in a sense) and have definite ideas about it, I find a lot of this pretty stimulating. Either that, or the hormones are doing something really weird. . .

Anyway, if any of this floats your boat, take a look at Darwin, Mrs. Darwin, and the illuminating comments of Zippy, here and here.

**Although if you look at the comments to Darwin's post (the first I link to, above), he suggests a title for her next book. . . ;) If that particular book surfaces, I will break my resolution not to pay hardcover price!!

Quiet Resignation vs. Heroic Defiance

Perhaps all Christians in general, but certainly Catholics in particular, hear a lot about acceptance of God's will. I am reminded of one woman's story of her conversation with a Protestant minister as she labored under the influence of RU-486 to deliver her child that had died in the womb (found courtesy of Entropy's blog). The story highlights how she, backed by Catholic theology, was much more willing than the Protestant minister to attribute specific redemptive cause to the situation in which she found herself. The story speaks of courage, intelligence, and faith, and shows a certain feistiness as well. She accepts God's will without necessarily liking it, as her analogy shows: God's making me into a sword and I just happen to be at the 'beat the hell out of it stage'. That's okay, because at the end, He will cool me off and polish me up and I will be sparkly and shiny and I will be a sword. But that's not necessarily common in the "accepting God's will" stories we here. My impression is that mostly it's a pretty passive process, and that the truly serene don't question overmuch. At least, that's what we're supposed to think.

Then, there's the issue of "joining one's suffering to the cross"--that is, allowing ourselves to participate in Jesus's sacrifice, remembering his sacrifice and accepting our own more willingly, sometimes even cheerfully. Admittedly, I am in the earlier stages of understanding this. Taken together, these concepts allow us, perhaps, to avoid the rejection of God that so may experience in difficult times, teaching us, instead, that God's love is still with us in difficult times. Through acceptance of redemptive suffering and through remembering Christ's sacrifice in (or by way of) our own pain, we are perhaps drawn down the path towards sainthood. But is everyone called to this kind of acceptance? And if so, why is it so contrary to human nature? Is the human will one of those things, like certain aspects of human sexuality, that must be controlled and contained, even overcome, on the path to holiness?

I admit that these ideas a problematic to me because the"calm acceptance" model rather induces me to expect the worst--as my pregnancy anxieties have no doubt revealed. I am inclined to worry anyway, but somehow along my Catholic journey, I have adopted an idea that runs something like, "If suffering is redemptive, and if so many around me are suffering, and if I'm supposed to join my sufferings to the cross, and welcome them as an occasion for growth in faith, then why the heck should I be spared? Shouldn't it be my turn?" (not in the sense that I want bad things to happen, but because I dread the possibility). My life hasn't been easy, but it hasn't been catastrophically bad, either. When I was pregnant for my son, a good friend who had also been pregnant at the same time in worse circumstances (but miscarried, presumably), died about 2 weeks before I delivered of tragically preventable circumstances. But losing a friend, while terrible, is not the same as what her family experienced. Why them? I hesitate to ask, "Why not me?" but that does seem the natural line of questioning. Were they more "worthy" of the suffering, or more able to deal with it? Or is it simply that I have not had mine yet, and if so, when should I expect it?

Well, clearly, it is counterproductive to go through life expecting it--even fearing it. I really like the line in the novena that I have been praying since Sunday night (thanks to Sarah of Just Another Day of Catholic Pondering!) that says, I am so attached to the things of this world that instead of longing for Heaven I am filled with dread at the thought of death, and clearly it is perfect for me that this is a novena to Our Lady of Hope. So appropriate in so many ways!! But what about that "longing for Heaven"? How much rejection of the world is too much? Can't I rest assured in the knowledge that what I do here for my family and others is valuable, and that God will surely allow me to continue to accomplish those tasks? Or is that arrogant on my part? Is it simply a matter of resignation? "Trust in God" clearly takes many shapes, and sometimes can resemble futility (if we trust that God will send us tragic events and circumstances, no matter what, for His own good reasons) or vanity (if we believe that God will not send us tragic circumstances, because we're too darned important).

So as some part of my brain was pondering this this morning, thinking about my recent anxieties, I thought of one of my favorite poems and one of the most moving poems in the English language. Hmmm. . . Not very Catholic, I thought, but why not? Not everyone is called to be a martyr. At the same time, we believe that God's power and omnipotence can anticipate our defiance, non-acceptance, whatever--and turn it to his purpose. But I wonder, there is much discussion of "Catholic friendly" literature on blogs & such. . . What do we do with this? The poem is about grief, but the tone is attractively and tragically heroic. Is it wrong, somehow, to admire a poem of such angry defiance?:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Incidently, if you have Flash, you can hear the author read the poem here. At least, I think so. Apparently, I don't have flash. But hearing Dylan Thomas read it is incomparable.

Tea and Novenas

Today was the baby shower tea. It was a very small matter, with three graduate student friends, two of whom had to leave early, and my mother and one sister, who left to bring my brother to work and returned afterward. My mother and sister were not originally supposed to be in town. The sister who was to attend had to work. My sister who did attend just returned from Colorado, where she tried to live with some friends--a married couple with a new baby--a situation that just didn't work out. So it was nice to know that that situation was at an end for her! And my mother came up at the beginning of the month with my youngest brother (13 yrs) for a doctor's appointment (since medical care is better--and cheaper--here than in New Orleans), left for a while to help my sister move from Colorado, and returned for a bit more of a visit. She was to have left early today, before the tea, but postponed her trip home and so was able to make it after all. She will be returning tomorrow, but my brother will be staying with my sister for a couple of weeks. If the baby waits a bit, she may be here for the birth! As for my brother, he has been rather depressed in New Orleans--lonely and living without plumbing because of the state of the house. . . My mother returns to find out information about the Road Home program. Hopefully that will go well and they will be able to offer her some hope of repair for her property. She has had a job--working at Starbucks, and is starting to do freelance sewing, alterations, photography, digital imaging, book making, selling her own jewelry designs, painting murals--any number of artistic pursuits, whenever she can find jobs. She much prefers the latter to the former, and the schedule of Starbucks does not easily allow for trips to Texas, so she's not entirely sure what awaits her on her return. . .

So in all, the tea was small & pleasant. And there were lots of little eclairs.

In response to my last post, a blogging friend suggested praying a novena--the two of us together. She says that is something a friend of hers offers when she is worried. We considered St. Gerard, but then decided on Our Lady of Hope. This was not an incarnation of the Blessed Mother that I had every heard of before! But what struck me is that her famous appearance in the French village of Pontmain was on my birthday, 106 years earlier. It strikes me that as Catholics, many of us place importance on things like that (I always have; I suppose it's cultural)--and it's rather hard not to sometimes. After all, hope is something I do need reminders of from time to time. I plan to doing some research and finding an icon or holy card to keep with me. Such apparent coincidences remind one of the Communion of Saints, and remind us of the operation of God's will in the world across time. My son, for example, has a very unusual Irish first name. Imagine our surprise when, on the day of his baptism, the deacon told us of an obscure Irish saint--and abbot--whose feast day was celebrated the day after my son's birthday, whose name was clearly an archaic spelling of my son's name!

So it is nice to have the comfort of prayer, and a communal prayer, and the personal connection as well.

Novena

I am the mother of fair love, and of fear, and of knowledge, and of holy hope. In me is all grace of the way and of the truth; in me is all hope of life and of virtue. Come to me all that desire me and be filled with my fruits (Sirach 24:24-26).
O Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of Grace, Hope of the world.
Hear us, your children, who cry to you

Let Us Pray
O God, who by the marvelous protection of the Blessed Virgin Mary has strengthened us firmly in hope, grant we beseech You, that by persevering in prayer at her admonition, we may obtain the favors we devoutly implore. Through Christ Our Lord. Amen.

Prayer to Our Lady of Hope
O Mary, my Mother, I kneel before you with heavy heart. The burden of my sins oppresses me. The knowledge of my weakness discourages me. I am beset by fears and temptations of every sort. Yet I am so attached to the things of this world that instead of longing for Heaven I am filled with dread at the thought of death.
O Mother of Mercy, have pity on me in my distress. You are all-powerful with your Divine Son. He can refuse no request of your Immaculate Heart. Show yourself a true Mother to me by being my advocate before His throne. O Refuge of Sinners and Hope of the Hopeless, to whom shall I turn if not you?
Obtain for me, then, O Mother of Hope, the grace of true sorrow for my sins, the gift of perfect resignation to God's Holy Will, and the courage to take up my cross and follow Jesus. Beg of His Sacred Heart the special favor that I ask in this novena.

To protect me and my baby from the risks of childbirth,

to help me to endure the pains of labor,

for relief from anxiety for my son and myself,

and for a safe return to my family after delivery.

But above all I pray, O dearest Mother, that through your most powerful intercession my heart may be filled with Holy Hope, so that in life's darkest hour I may never fail to trust in God my Savior, but by walking in the way of His commandments I may merit to be united with Him, and with you in the eternal joys of Heaven. Amen.
Mary, our Hope, have pity on us.
Hope of the Hopeless, pray for us.

Three Hail Marys.

reprinted (with request added) from EWTN.com

Modest expectations & Morbid thoughts. . .

. . .For me, the two go together. Over the past several months, I have worried about a number of things with this pregnancy--implications for my career, the opinions of those around me, fear and anxiety surrounding labor. . . But as the due date approaches, my hopes and fears have shifted, and what I want more than anything is a healthy baby, a healthy mommy, and a swift return to my other children. (Let's forget, for a moment, how badly I want to stop teaching at this point, particularly since I have 14 or so papers waiting to be graded. . .)

This is the first pregnancy in which I have spent the last few weeks actually preparing for the hospital stay. With my first, I did not have a household of my own. Therefore, I did not really have anything to prepare. I had a vague idea of what I would bring to the hospital, but I didn't even have a bag packed. I'm not sure why I didn't pack it when I realized my water was leaking and I would have to be admitted the next morning, but that was a long time ago. There are just some things that don't stay with you over 10 or so years. With my daughter, it just didn't occur to me to pack a back prior to the 37th week of pregnancy. The first one came on the expected day, so certainly the second should, also!! Furthermore, when I was pregnant with my daughter, there were fewer things to prepare. I had someone lined up to watch my son, who was old enough to understand, and that was that. That is, until the hurricane. By which I mean, The Hurricane. Katrina. Then things became more complicated in some ways, but at the same time, I had relatives to cook & clean & keep my son from worrying! So my preparations were of the buying, washing, and assembling baby items variety. (And lucky I didn't wait until the last minute!! I think my rocking chair was delivered the same week as the baby!)

So for the first time, I have a bag packed. I also have had the ongoing process of preparing my class for my extended absence, which was not an issue, since I wasn't teaching last time. Like last time, I am due around the first of the month, but unlike last time, I am actually preparing for the next paychecks and bills, trying my best to stay on top of things, knowing that I am generally the one to pay bills, and that I won't want to pay bills when there is a baby to tend to! And I filled out an order form for orchestra pictures for my son that isn't due until November 7. And in the back of my head is the thought, "In case I'm not here to do it," which, given the reality of the hospital stay and the unpredictability of babies' arrivals, is perfectly accurate. But the thought could, in other circumstances, have more cryptic implications. And so I look at my beautiful little girl, and I think, "What if. . .?"

I am prone to such imaginings anyway. But these have recently been reawakened by my knowledge that my son is afraid of something happening. He is almost as neurotic as his mother, whether by nature or nurture. When I was last pregnant, he asked directly if the mother could die, since he knew from a friend's mother's experience when he was in kindergarten that the baby could. That was a very sad situation. I of course had to admit to him that, yes, the mother could die. A friend of my mother's died in childbirth from medical neglect and complications due to pre-ecclampsia. Her baby was severely brain damaged. One of her children was near my age and went to my school. But I also told him (and reminded myself) of the huge number of births that occur with no harm to mother or child. He has been mostly quiet about the risks this time, until recently. I thought it was perhaps due to RE (religious education)/CCD, especially with the ongoing 40 Days for Life campaign (not knowing how much the children are told about the campaign), but he tells me that the children were discussing pregnancy in orchestra (??!)--perhaps because of a movie and a pregnant substitute. Anyway, he came home with an odd question one Friday: whether there was a kind of medicine that could keep married people from having babies if they wanted. Of course, I also thought of the extensive ad campaigns for birth control pills, though they tend to make suggestions rather than explicit statements about the purpose of the medication, stressing "other benefits" of the pill. . . So I explained to my son that, yes, there were such medications, but that the Church teaches us that in marriage, the family should welcome children, and so they should not be used. He was satisfied. I tried to elicit the reason for this query--he is not the type of child think that it is desirable not to have children. In fact, he's waiting for a little brother! I got a vague impression from his response that it was his concern for me that led to the question. The previous week he lit a candle for me after Mass, and I tried to sooth his concerns then. I am, after all, very healthy. My mother and grandmother delivered 6 and 7 healthy babies, respectively. But my own anxieties were awakened. And I have to banish the fleeting thought, "What if?" As it is, I am aware that my little girl will not understand where I have gone for 2 or 3 days, and why I can't come back with them from the hospital when they come to visit.

I am glad that we never watched Star Wars Episode 3. After all, that is the point, no? Skywalker/Darth fears to lose his wife in childbirth--and then does, I believe. Not the message for a child who is sensitive to such things.

So while I am reasonably convinced that I will come out of this O.K., I worry for the sake of my little ones, and all of my prayers are for my safety, for them, and the baby's safety and health, for all of us.