I AM still alive. . .

Just in case you were all wondering. Just very, very busy. I posted some new pics on the family blog, for those of you who are family and friends. There are two new posts. I'm writing a paper today that I was supposed to lead up to on the book blog, but didn't. I need to present the paper Tuesday afternoon.

I have reached a pause and a waiting stage with the job search, having applied to a disgraceful 15 positions. Trouble is, there are not many that I would take if they were offered to me. I am well seated for a job in rhet/comp, but I would rather shoot myself in the foot than try to get excited about making students talk/write about politics. I like teaching writing; I've never been interested in politics. I would much rather have the students think about aspects of their lives that affect them that they may NEVER have to vote on. There are so very many things in life that are arguable. So most of the positions I have applied to combine composition and literature teaching duties. That, I could live with. Most of them have abysmal teaching loads--akin to community colleges, with research requirements. That's not what I've been working for for the past 10 years--at least, unless the classes are small. That would be okay.

I have applied for one position that I would really like to have. It's a very conservative Catholic college. So conservative, in fact, that their health insurance plan doesn't cover birth control! (NOT Steubenville or Ave Maria) (Don't Google it) The subject field is marginally related to mine, but I think I made a good argument for it. I hope. We'll see. It's different. It's challenging. It's interesting. And I don't think I would have to pretend to be something I'm not--at least, not much!

You know, though, I'm not--and I never have been--comfortable being labeled by my politics, which really come down to a choice of the lesser of evils. . . I would really rather be known as a Catholic academic (though really the Catholic part doesn't come up that often, so it's like saying "a Catholic person") who believes in personal integrity and the potential of every human individual. Someone who believes that education can make a difference in the person--I'm not particularly worried about the larger scope. I have my opinions, but that's not really what I'm setting out to change. In a conversation today, I was told, "well, you're more conservative than me, so. . ." (and no reflection at all on the person saying it--that she said it, I mean!--because I don't doubt that it's true, though I think that most of us can find some common ground!!) and while I like that it was acknowledged without insult or judgement, and that there was no assumption that all academics think the same, still there was something a little unsettling about it. . . For one thing, in day to day life, it's not how I present myself to the world.

Still don't want to go to the big convention to be interviewed (potentially)--can't afford it, really. Not having student loans just plain sucks. Besides that I can't leave Chiclette and Doodle. I'm afraid that I would be neurotic with anxiety over leaving them. Chiclette is not weaned, and Doodle--well, it really takes two of us to keep things running smoothly.

I've got a lot on my plate with teaching and thinking about my administrative tasks next semester. Not what I want to blog about. The teaching seems good sometimes, discouraging or overwhelming other times. I do get some kind of satisfaction out of it, but never so much as when it's all over!

Commitments

Taking a few short minutes to post. October promises to be a brutal month. I have deadlines to meet, papers due, papers returned, a test to write and give, and I've really settled in to the drudgery of the semester. I need to finish preparing my application materials and actually print them to mail them. I need to set up a dossier with the career center. I need to revise a dissertation chapter before the "revise and resubmit" becomes a "who were you again?" I don't even have the time to do the things that I need to do, much less the things I want to do. I'm sure I've forgotten something.

I have mixed feelings about going to the national convention where all interviews are held. I have resented from the beginning the "meat market" approach to job hunting, though that's not the whole story. There is a "meat market" quality, but my understanding is that the people who want to play the self-promotion game with no scheduled interviews are the ones who flit from booth to booth handing out their vitas. That is soooo not me! Although I don't see myself participating in that procedure, I also resent the intimidation and pressure of the centralized interviews, the depersonalization, the prospect of interviewing as one of many, many candidates. I also resent the expense of it all. This conference is generally held one of several cities that rank among the most expensive in the country. The scale of the conference is intimidating; the travel is intimidating; the expense is intimidating. I tend to perform well under pressure, but that doesn't mean I can't resent it beforehand!! The conference also takes place at a time that is inconvenient for me--midsemester break, between a prominent Christian holiday and a prominent secular holiday. A time traditionally associated with family, if one goes for that kind of thing. I don't like to leave my family at the most mundane of times. I feel rather like an essential part of my family dynamic right now, and the thought of leaving makes me apprehensive. And I just plain don't like traveling by myself--I've never done it much, really.

So I go back and forth in my mind about the convention--do I go? Do I not go? Theoretically, attendance at the convention should not determine one's consideration for the position--theoretically. Do I go alone? Do I take the family (and drive)? But that's only part of it, really. . .

Graduating has been good for me, in a way. I have more of a feeling of wanting to be involved in the academic community than I have in a while. I have had more interest in developing my own work recently. What I lack is TIME. I'm heading towards becoming burned out all over again, and I'm not even teaching what would be considered a "full load"--I'm only teaching 2 courses this semester and one course (of who knows what, but I've been almost guaranteed that it won't be the one thing I want to teach--a Brit Lit survey) next semester because of my "administrative duties" which have expanded in new and time-consuming directions. Now, the unexpected part is actually the most fun and rewarding, but that doesn't change the fact that it's an incredible demand on my time. The funny thing is, it's probably classified more under "service" (and I don't have a "service" requirement) than with my normal job duties. *sigh* I am trying to wrap up a funded project that is a whole lot of fun, and really excites me, but has been slow going because of constraints on my time and the hours of the archives. My 5-day a week schedule, while good for child care, has made me feel like I'm meeting myself "coming and going," as the expression goes--every time I wrap up one class, it's time to prepare for the next. At times, I feel very competent, with a real sense of accomplishment. Other times I feel swamped, frustrated, or simply--tired. And I'm only teaching 2 classes. Standard load for a job search is 3+ courses each semester. And I tend to get sick of the course I'm teaching halfway through. I sometimes think I would do better in a trimester system, but I can't imagine that that would make me feel less swamped. So while I'm enjoying having--rather than pursuing--the Ph.D., the newfound ambition is overwhelmed by an increase in job duties. I feel like to get the job materials out will mean putting my classes on hold in a significant way. Funny thing is, the materials are already ready! It's a matter of tweaking things for specific jobs and printing!

I don't really feel ready to be on the market. That's where this post has been tending. I think I need this year to do other things. . . Publish, for example. Catch up on some bills. Spend time with my girls while they're still little and need me. Make cupcakes for Doodle's first birthday at school (which was Monday, and which I did!). Make the girls some fall-to-winter outfits. Oh! and get used to a higher teaching load--gradually, if at all possible. There's time for tenure-track when Chiclette is old enough for pre-preschool (a 2-year-old or 3-year-old class). And yet, I don't really want to be stuck doing what I'm doing for too much longer. Non-academic alternatives strike me as 1) boring, 2) more time-consuming. So I'm stuck for now. Anything else would require my husband to change jobs. And really, that's not practical. So I'll go edit a teaching philosophy now (not the thing to do after a crummy morning class. . .)

God's House

Over the summer, Doodle attended the child development center at our parish 3 days/week from 9-2:30. She was in a class with 2's, 3's, 4's, and 5's, in a Montessori-like environment. After a while, I started noticing something. . . Doodle would occasionally tell me about Jesus. "That's Jesus!" with a nod and wide, knowing eyes, pointing, usually I think, to a crucifix. Sometimes she would say, "A Jesus. A God." ("A" or "ah" approximating "it's" or "that's" until recently.) A day or two ago, she found a reproduction of an antique print of the Last Supper. Jesus is holding up bread, in the shape of the Host, representing the institution of the Eucharist. "Who's this?" Doodle asks. "Jesus," I reply. "Yes, Jesus," she says with certainty, nodding. She then proceeds to ask about the apostles, who occupy the edges of the image, though with less interest.

This evening, we got pizza from Papa John's. The franchise we ordered from, for pick-up, was a scant block away from the priests' residence, not two blocks from the church that is the student parish for the university and community college in the area. As we were waiting 5 min. before going in to check on the pizza order, the church bells rang. Doodle perked up, eyes wide, and said, "Listen!" Then she said something through her pacifier that sounded kind of like "God." I wasn't sure, but I started telling my husband about the influence of the church preschool. Then she said again, with excitement, "God! God!" So I asked, "God?" "Yes!" As my husband turned the car around to pull alongside the pizza place, she caught sight of the church (where she and Chiclette were baptized--and me, too!--and my son in the chapel, which is also where we were married. . . so many Sacraments, so many memories!). "There it is!" she said, pointing. "God!" Why yes, yes it is! :)

Remembering What I Like. . .

I love poetry. I love talking about poetry and teaching poetry. I only enjoy rhetorical analysis insofar as it resembles close readings of the language of poetry and discussion of how the poem "works." I like that poetry comes in small packages (usually, that is), and can be read quickly, even on the spot, and yet packs in so much meaning that you can spend hours pondering words and ideas, and always have something to come back to. I love the rhythm of poetry, the way sounds work together. I have not spent so much time working with poetry that I no longer enjoy it--and I don't think that will happen. I fact, I'm not entirely sure I could write a long, conference-style paper on poetry. It's not something I've had the opportunity to try, actually. So the irony is, I'm not technically "qualified" to teach poetry. But I do love it, all the same. . .

Families in the Abstract

Human relationships are difficult. Painfully difficult. The only thing that makes them more difficult than the intangibles already present are material things. I think that there are a number of different ways we can attempt to understand these difficulties--one of which is simply "offering them up". . . Except that that's not really simple. I have walked away from a number of friendships in my life, as I've mentioned before. Indeed, my tendency to cut ties or have people drift away was so pervasive, I feared on more than one occasion that the same would happen to my husband and I when we were dating. At any rate, circumstances did not permit me to screw that one up! I can ask of other relationships what I don't ask of my marriage (because I think the answers are both profoundly simple and simply profound)--what causes relationships to continue? Frequently, the answer is need. Perhaps it is a feature of post-lapsarian relationships that we must need each other in order to overcome difference. But material needs, while binding people together, do so in unpleasant ways. People neither like relying on others, not being relied upon, at least when the understanding is incomplete. Bad feelings fester. Breakdowns ensue. And the temptation is to run away. I am tempted to run away. To never have the bad feelings come up again because I am so far removed from the people and situation that I can happily block it from my mind and get on with my life. And never to be confronted with the judgment, scorn, and misunderstanding of those whom I have helped. In short, the temptation is to end the relationship. For those relationships that I have not been able to simply walk away from, I am grateful. For those I have been able to reconcile, if not mend and rebuild, I am also grateful. I hope to be grateful one day for not being able to flee from the relationships I would like to sever. I'm not there yet.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love,
Where there is injury, pardon
Where there is doubt, faith,
Where there is despair, hope,
Where there is darkness, light,
Where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much
seek to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
it is in dying that we awake to eternal life.

~St. Francis of Assisi

Sometimes I Get the Feeling. . .

That by choosing to study and pursue what I love, I have lost the opportunity to enjoy what I love(d). To have a mundane job, and to read for pleasure. . . It seems a bit of a luxury.

Working is like Exercise for Me

I came to this conclusion yesterday, at the end of the long weekend, after an unexpected holiday on Friday for the hurricane that went away east. Because for 3 weeks I've been pretty well into the swing of things, managing to get the course prep done, grading a reasonable number of things, and enjoying the classroom dynamic. Admittedly, I'm getting worn down a bit from always being on the go. I have classes to teach 5 days a week, just like in the summer, except that in the summer I gave them Fridays off, and it was only 1 class, not 2. Having 2 classes makes it easy in a way--I don't have to come up with material for one class to fill 5 days' worth of discussion/lectures/activities. On the other hand, when I'm finished with teaching one course, it's time to turn around and work on the next one for the next day. This would be more of a pain if I was less familiar with the material. Although I am teaching from a new syllabus for composition, I have taught composition a hundred times. So I have activities ready-made that I can slip in as necessary. Also, there is a set of ready-made lesson plans to go along with the standard syllabus, though I have problems with some of the examples used, which introduce bias into the discussion in a way that has potential to be used well or poorly. Teaching children's lit similarly requires less prep than it did over the summer, though the classroom dynamic--35 students instead of 10--is vastly different and does not lend itself to the same kinds of activities. Many of my students come from education, and have a very different way of thinking about children's literature, so I have to steer them almost constantly away from the, "This is a good book because it can work well in a classroom in this way. . ." and try to induce them to think about it as literature, not as a prop for teaching. Also, spending the same number of class periods on a topic, but having those class periods spread over 2-3 weeks instead of concentrated in a single week gives everyone the feeling of going nowhere fast. And it's getting depressing. So I'm looking forward to moving on to poetry. But I'm feeling a little discouraged all the same.

So how is working like exercise? Well, when I'm in the middle of it, in the "swing of things," so to speak, I feel pretty excited & good about what I'm doing. It energizes me. After a good class, I'm on a kind of "high." I talk about the class for hours. My husband gets sick of hearing about it! ;) But when I'm away from it, even for a long weekend, especially if I have unexpectedly "gotten out of" teaching for one day, it feels impossible to get back into it. The same thing happens to me with exercise. The same thing happens to me with research and writing. It's why the dissertation seemed to drag--I spent more time dreading the work than actually working on it. Even blogging is like this for me--if I've missed checking on blogs for a number of days, it feels like a huge task to get back into them, even though I know I enjoy it!!

I know this is not the case with exercise, though it can be time consuming, but one of the things that research, teaching, and blogging share is a huge commitment of mental energy. Answering emails is the same. I know, quite often, that if I let myself get started with a blog or an email, I will keep going until it's done, expending a great deal of mental energy and becoming engrossed for hours at a time sometimes. So sometimes, I prefer not to start. Research and writing are similar--the mental effort is considerable, the time commitment is significant, and there doesn't ever seem to be an ideal time to start. Truthfully, sewing is the same for me. When I start a project, I want to know that I can finish the project in a reasonable amount of time--a few days, usually. And that means from cutting out the fabric to pressing the finished item. If I leave something just slightly unfinished, I hate to go back to it. Doodle has a jumper without loops to hold the loose ends of the shoulder straps, and a dress that needs a hook-and-eye above the zipper to look "finished"--minor details, and not very time consuming, but if I haven't gotten the details finished with the rest of the garment, I don't want to go back. I would rather start something new. And if I put a project aside earlier--watch out!! I have to force myself, trick myself, reward myself with the prospect of starting the thing I really want to work on--or it never gets done.

Looking over this, it seems like I have a strange combination of procrastination, obsessive-compulsive tendencies, and perfectionism--the kind of crippling perfectionism that leads one to avoid starting the project for fear of being engrossed in details. I never completed an incomplete because I couldn't find the "perfect" topic to write about. I had set pretty high standards with another paper for the same professor, and didn't want to fall short. So I couldn't do it. The mental block was huge. I think I stopped writing poetry because I stopped thinking that my ideas were poem-worthy--I rather got out of that way of seeing the world.

I got over this to a degree with the dissertation. Remember Dori from Finding Nemo? She sang, "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming. . ." Eventually, I just had to force myself to keep writing, reminding myself that my mediocre writing was usually sufficient for the job I was trying to get done. Teaching has its built-in motivation, thank goodness. The students will keep coming, the semester continues to progress. I can't just stop and dread what needs to be done. Then there will be good days, and I will think, "How is it that I dreaded this so much?" I will go the library to do my archival research and return home excited by all of the ideas that I have had while reading and try to hold on to that enthusiasm until the next week. It's about rhythm, really. It's about routine. Like exercise. But I never can stick with it, somehow. . .

Some Words about Not Allowing Comments

I like comments. Waaaay too much sometimes. I will sit on the edge of my seat sometimes and wait for comments to come in. Well, not really, but it feels that way. Especially when the comments don't come. I watch and wait for a day or two, then I gradually forget that I've written anything at all. With more controversial posts, it is a bit different. It's not the excitement of having someone contribute to a discussion, it's a morbid fascination--the proverbial train wreck. With anxiety, anticipation, and dread, I wait for the lashes. I do the same when I follow heated comments on others' blogs. I can't help myself. This leads to my not posting on certain topics sometimes, until the bottled-up thoughts come bursting forth. And then, the waiting, and the contradicting, and the endless explaining. And that takes up a lot of time that I should be using for other things. Like class prep. Or the job search. Or sewing. Or cooking. Cleaning. Taking care of my kiddos. (Not necessarily in that order. Sewing is first.) This might look like an attempt to avoid a fight. Well it is, but not the way you think. Had I an endless amount of time, and if I really enjoyed that semi-agitated state, I would engage cheerfully in the debate (well, maybe not cheerfully--that's part of the problem). But I don't. And so I was mulling this over, and I thought about something:

All of this commenting really underscores the differences between print and electronic practices of literacy. Some of the age-old accepted properties of written language have been its relative permanence, its separation from the human life-world, its separation from its creator and consequent inability to answer questions that are posed to the text with anything other than the words that were originally set down (with the possible exception of updated editions, but once updated, they are still silent and static). With online communication, much of this changes. Online communication is certainly not permanent. Content is ever-changing, sometimes according to the will of its author(s), sometimes not. I would suggest that in some ways it is still detached from the human life-world, which is one of the problems or dangers of online communication as well as one of its liberating qualities. When discourse is not taking place in real time with real people, one can disregard all of the usual constraints on the content of our discourses, but we also have the freedom to disregard all of the conventions of civility. People are not people online; we have the ability to treat them--individually or collectively--with contempt, disregard, and intolerance. But the most significant difference is that the author is not necessarily separate from the product of his/her literacy. When we imagine someone reading a book, we hardly expect the writer to be standing next to us, answering our questions and objections, tit-for-tat. And that's as it should be. Because if the author knows that anyone who has questions about his/her work will have only the work itself to consult for the answers, s/he has to be more careful about what s/he writes in the beginning. Unlike speech--when we speak, we usually don't have everything perfectly prepared, logically considered. There's a lot of "off the cuff" discourse in face-to-face interaction. Not so in written discourse. But that is changing. . .

When we visit blogs, we generally know that nothing but a computer screen and a semblance of anonymity separates us from the author--or the reader. The semblance of anonymity protects or exposes us, depending--protects us from being exposed personally for our thoughts or beliefs, protects us from being linked with our words; exposes us to the thoughts of others, for better or worse. The proximity allows access. As an author, I know I can be questioned. That I may be called on to explain myself, argue my position, hash out my beliefs. This can be a good thing. As a reader, I know that I can challenge a position, ask questions for clarity, make my alternate theory heard and demand recognition for my alternate theory. I am also free to support, reinforce, or acknowledge others' ideas. Or not. This can make me (or my counterparts) hesitant, aggressive, timid, bold, or. . . lazy. Discourse that can be questioned, after all, and from which we can expect a new answer, does not have to take itself quite as seriously, to be as complete, as refined, as polished. On the other hand, it can be more natural, more accessible (in multiple ways), more tentative, and more mutable--both in terms of its appearance and in terms of the ideas that are expressed, which might stand to change from contact with others.

So, you might ask, did I turn off comments in order to produce more refined, more complete, more polished discourse? Nope. But it made me think a lot about literacy in an online environment, and I decided to share.

Why is "Religious" a Dirty Word?

You see it paired with nasty words like "ideologue" and "conservative," it is not a far reach from there to "extremism" and "theocracy." All who are religious oppose sex ed, endorse book burning (at least metaphorically), probably endorse heterosexual monogamy, or at least pay lip service to it, support the NRA and the death penalty, and want to impose their backward morality on other people's bodies. I think I forgot to mention stupid or ignorant, generally opposed to science and rational thought more generally.

This pretty much sums me up--don'tcha know--so I'm not really qualified to judge the alternative. I just know that they're much, much better than me. Every now & then, you'll hear about someone who claims to be religious and yet still opposes war--another thing religious people don't do--or agrees that permitting abortion is okay. That puts them in the "decidedly not wacky" category.

I'll admit to looking down on Evangelical Christians in my own elitist way, particularly in the past, but lately I feel like I can understand and accept them more in theory, although theoretically I am not an understanding and accepting person. I still shudder at the more touchy-feely types. And I'm still put off by those who declare their love for Jesus above all things in classroom introductions. But they're simultaneously witnessing and being counter-cultural, and who can argue with that?

Anyway, I don't like cultish behavior any more than the next guy, but it really bothers me when just acknowledging that religion plays a significant role in one's behavior, philosophy, politics is enough to invoke scorn, derision, disgust, mockery and, finally, fear. What are they all afraid of? That at the end of the day, those moronic religious (Christian) types might be. . . *gasp, shudder* . . . right about something?

I've been there, my friend.

Equal Opportunity Campaign Humor

This is hilarious. Go see. You will laugh.

Deep Thought

Note to self:

The philosophical questions of life don't seem so burdensome when you just live--work--play--act--do things. . .

Okay, maybe that was a shallow thought.

Prayer Request for 8/26

Please offer a little prayer for my mom, who is having surgery for a gall bladder polyp today in New Orleans, where medical care is not exactly stellar these days. Thanks!

Let's Say a Prayer

For families.

For families that are having difficulties, especially those with little children involved.
For families in which one or more members have dangerous or stressful health issues.

And in thanksgiving, if our families are healthy and strong.

My Top Thoughts after Finishing the Ph.D.

• Okay, so I have a Ph.D. I'm supposed to know stuff. . .
• So when was I supposed to learn all of the stuff that I am supposed to know?
• There's a point in any academic career when one has forgotten more than one actually knows at the moment. Is it too early to say I'm there?
  
• Oh cr*p! I have to get a job now!
• Wait, you mean there's a(n intellectual) world outside of this dissertation?
• Maybe I could sit in on a few graduate courses & get up to speed. No wait. . .
• You mean other people read books without someone telling them to??
• Note to self: Come up with new excuse for being a crummy teacher. . .
• Dr. who are they talking about? Oh, that's me!
  
• Now what?
  
• The rest of the thoughts have to do with student loans (language not appropriate to this blog. . .)
  

What to Blog?

Okay, I'm having a blogging lapse. The world isn't presenting itself in bloggable chunks. And I've started worrying about my audience and my blogging persona. I feel like the persona I present is so fragmented that I just don't seem like one person, and I'm not sure that the part of me I'm representing at any given time is really worth representing. I mean, why am I so darned grumpy all of the time? It's not hormones any more. Those are feeling better than they have in years. When I have any "IDEAS," they are fleeting and usually occur in the car or bathtub and by the time I'm by the computer they just don't seem worth the effort to write down. I could blog about the job search, but who really cares about those anxieties? I don't even care much about them. They just surface and are replaced by more immediate concerns. And when I try to write critical observations about how I fit (or don't) in my discipline, I get in trouble for it, and really, tongue-in-cheek and hyperbole don't play well in blogs, and I really like tongue-in-cheek and hyperbole. I've got a family blog where I could write about family stuff, only I don't because it takes a huge time commitment to upload photos. I have a book blog where I'm supposed to be writing about things I'm reading, only I'm not reading much. I've missed the last two Saturdays of research in the sci fi archives because of toddler illness and a graduation celebration, and all of the Saturdays' worth of research I haven't blogged about is stale and it's hard to muster up the energy to blog about them. Classes have ended for now, so that's out. Spiritual stuff occurs to me sometimes, but I'm in such a serious dry spell that it's difficult to get really excited about anything theological right now. I feel like such a bad Catholic. A LOSER Convert. So when I think, "Oh, I'll post about the homily," I just feel like a phony. More often, however, I think about posting things about our new associate pastor, who seems to have some mental block against all things Trinitarian. 'Cause if there's anything to be said or done in threes, he messes it up. Case in point: "Through Him, With Him." The next Mass?: "Through Him, In Him." Also, "Christ have Mercy. Lord Have Mercy." Looooooooong pause. About the time he remembers that something is missing, the choir starts in. Nice guy, but with serious stage fright, it seems. Is that really something I should be blogging about? Probably not. I could blog about NFP, but I don't wanna. There's some family stuff going on--extended family stuff that's really uncomfortable & messy to deal with, but why would I want to subject everyone else to that? I'm uncomfortable as it is about giving everyone the impression that I'm, well, as crotchety as I probably am. So I remain quiet. Or post about what not to post.

Chiclette's New Fairy Dress

Petal dress - front, originally uploaded by literacy_chic.

I've been working for a couple of weeks on this dress that Chiclette wore to the graduation. It's another Ottobre design--this one a bit more detailed, perhaps, than anything else I've made, including the chicken dress! Or perhaps it seemed so because I had to fray-check and then hem ALL of those petals! PLUS I did 9 for a dress for Doodle--same fabric for the petals, different coordinating fabric for the dress.

I graduated!

Pics on the family blog.

Things went well. I was a little stressed with Doodle up on the front row of a balcony with a rather low railing, but all went well. Very well. She went to the bathroom no fewer than 3 times! She watched some episodes of Doug--now available on iTunes!--on Brother's iPod. Chiclette fell asleep. And I found myself less stressed after I crossed the stage. Coincidence?

Rest of the Week Follow-up

Thanks everyone! Things have been better the past day or two, though Doodle is still very cranky and not really eating. Before things are completely back to normal, I get to start stressing about graduation. Have I explained that I feel very inadequate in social occasions? Any time I think about large gatherings of people--whether they are people I know or not--I get to feeling very anxious and all of my worst anti-social tendencies reveal themselves. That, and little things start to get to me, like the doctoral robe's sleeves being different lengths, or the fact that "unisex" means "not for full busts"!!

So anyway, graduation is tomorrow morning, and I'm all wound up. I finally decided that Doodle will be there--I debated for a while, knowing that she really won't enjoy herself. But I couldn't bear the thought of having Phelan there, and Isabelle, and not Helena. Besides feeling like I am not representing my family accurately by having only 2 of my 3 children there, it seems to imply something about her--that she was not good enough to be there. If I was leaving both babies with someone, it might feel different. After all, my son IS the only one with the patience for this kind of thing, and the only one who begins to understand the significance of a graduation. I decided that I didn't want to try to explain in 5 or 6 years, "Well, Brother was at Momma's graduation, and so was Chiclette, but not you." What child is going to understand that one? So anyway, she will be going. To a 2-hour graduation ceremony. With many, many things to entertain her. And there are still times when keeping her in a 1-hour Mass is challenging (notice I didn't say keeping her still--that would be one of the minor miracles). :) I love my Doodle, but she is not a sedate child. I rely on the presence of aunts and an uncle to keep her well-behaved!

After graduation? I get to pull together Summer II grades by Monday. We have a little breakfast/brunch planned for Saturday. THAT will be the highlight of my weekend! (Not so intimidating, you know?)

My Four Copays --Caution: The squeamish should proceed with care

Let me tell you about my weekend. . . and the beginning of my week.

On Friday, things were good. I didn't particularly feel like cooking; having just gotten to the end of a month of scraping by, I wanted a little splurge (even though my husband rationally--and uncharacteristically for either of us!--argued that if we didn't splurge, we could have a bigger splurge for the after-graduation mini-celebration), and decided to go get some drive-through, notch-above-fast-food-Mexican for dinner. I took Doodle with me to give my husband some (relative) peace! So we came home and Doodle went through her latest coming-home ritual--she ran to the stepping-stones between the two apartment buildings and started following the path. Just as I was reminding her not to run, she flew through the air and landed with her knee on the very edge of the stone. I scooped her up, bleeding, and ran into the house to wash it & apply pressure. Well, the gash was deep, so I called the insurance nurse line. Their standard reply seems to be "go to the emergency room" (it's their "limitation of liability" line--not nurse line!) and so we were advised, because the wound was opening when she bent her knee, and also to check out the kneecap, to go to the hospital. We were seen rather quickly, which was good since the waiting room was full of people throwing up. I was concerned that Doodle would be a bit freaked out by the spectacle, but she was fine. In fact, she was the Belle of the ER. She got grape juice, 3 sheets of stickers, some Motrin for the soreness, and the most expensive bandaid I've ever purchased in my life, and we returned home for a peaceful night (and our dinner). Well, sort of. . .

When Doodle was checked into the ER, her temperature was 99.5, which by today's standards, counts as normal, though when I was growing up we called that a low-grade fever. Nothing to worry about, right? Remember, she had had Motrin. Well, she woke up at about 4:00 Saturday morning with much higher fever. It got as high as 102 that night; the next day, when it went up a degree to 103 after she had had Ibuprofin, I decided to take her to the "today clinic" instead of chancing another pricey (and unnecessary) ER visit if the medicine wouldn't bring down the fever. Of course it did. By the time we had her checked in to the "today clinic," her temperature was normal. But it was still good to have her checked. Her ears were normal; her throat was a little red. She had a badly executed strep test that came back negative. (She had been complaining about her throat.) Nothing conclusive. So we went home. Well, throughout the weekend, the fever continued to spike from 101-102 when the medicine wore off. She woke up burning hot & shaky each night. Monday, I called her doctor's office and spoke to the nurse, who said that they usually say that after fever has continued for 3 days, they want to see the child. She offered to get her in that afternoon, but I waited until Tuesday anyway. I missed my last class because the babies were sleeping and I was not going to wake a feverish child to leave. My husband picked up their response papers.

All of this time, she had been in a relatively good mood--for a sick child. In fact, she was incredibly sweet. Sunday night, she started with some nasal congestion, and the mood shifted. She is much more irritable. So after another feverish night Monday night, we took her in to her appointment. It seems that hers was the 4th or 5th case of exactly these symptoms--with the congestion at the end of the 3 or 4 days--that he had seen. (I love this doctor, btw. I can't imagine a better pediatrician.) So we figure, the worst is probably over. We hope. I asked him about an ongoing problem we have been having with Doodle that is making potty-training absolute HELL. All throughout June she would have off-and-on diarrhea-like symptoms. It was awful. It would start at the beginning of the week, and by the end, after much yogurt, she was fine. And this had started happening in conjunction with the virus. The doctor explained that he calls this kind of thing "toddler diarrhea," or "slick gut" or "Schlitterban gut" (after the water park). What happens is that from eating certain kinds of fruits and drinking certain fruit juices, the acids burn away the tendrils of the vilii in the intestines. This causes a problem with absorption of nutrients and leads to the rapid passage of all of the food from the body. The remedy is a high-fat diet, milk fat in particular. Mandarin oranges are the worst for causing this, and they are her favorite fruit, and have been since she was a very young toddler. Needless to say, it was a relief to know how to prevent and cure this condition!! So we went home, anticipating a peaceful afternoon. . .

Well, let me start by saying that at 9 months, my Chiclette is further along in her mobility than either of the other children have been. She not only crawls and sits, she stands, shuffles, and climbs (onto our wooden futon-sofa). She also falls. A lot. She has hit herself more times on that wooden futon than Doodle EVER did. Usually she cries a little & gets up again with no problem. You know where this is going, right? So yesterday afternoon, she took one of her now-famous spills and hit her mouth on the futon, causing her two little bottom teeth (presumably) to cut a nice slit in the very tip of her little tongue. And as with any mouth injury, there was blood everywhere. I scooped her up, found a washcloth, cold water, and ice, and started reviewing my options. ER? Not if I can help it. Call my husband? Not without a plan of action. Call my mom? Not this time. Call my friend with 3 kids, who might have a suggestion? Call my sister to come help me take the kids? No, she can't drive & I would lose time picking her up. All of this in the first 1:35 minutes after it happened. So I called the pediatrician's office. Having gotten past the reception desk with careful phrasing ("It's not an emergency, but I have a quick question about a mouth injury. Can I have a direct line to the nurse?"), I learned that both doctors' nurses were busy (the ones we see, anyway), and then, considering further, I decided to make an appointment, only to find out that they were booked, so effectively, the only way to get in was to speak to a nurse. So I left a message for them to call and made plans to head to that "today clinic" again. . . (Keep in mind that we had been to see the pediatrician with Doodle that morning!!) I had my son call my husband to meet us (his boss gave him a ride, as I have our vehicle), grabbed ice and a couple of washcloths (one fell on the ground and had to be thrown back into the house as we left), gave my son a pep talk about staying cool in emergency situations and doing what needs to be done (I operate well on adrenaline) as he struggled with nausea and prepared to be the one in the back to administer the icy washcloth in the baby mouth. Doodle was very concerned. While I was on the phone, she kept saying, "Baby B--- a hurt you! A hurt you?" She brought Chiclette the baby dress I was making to try to make her happy. Doodle was crying in the car to see the blood. So I had Doodle start singing "Frere Jacques"--in French and English--to calm the Chiclette. So we arrived; my husband arrived, and Chiclette and I were shown to the room fairly soon for a walk-in clinic, while Brother, Sister, and Daddy waited in the waiting room. For a long time. While phonecalls were made and I waited with only a few bits of gauze (and then ice that I commandeered from a housekeeping person, and some wax cups that are in the room, a sink, some papertowels, and eventually a washcloth, when it was time to leave) trying to stem the still-bleeding tongue. She wanted to nurse--that was a mess. :( I was very concerned about the blood she was swallowing.

By way of wrapping up a long story, they don't put stitches in tongues (thankfully, actually) if they can help it, and I was assured that it WOULD stop bleeding. We were sent home, not particularly peacefully, to deal with the bleeding as best we could. A few more scares that night--I gave her Tylenol, and she almost immediately threw up, and that was pretty gruesome. Now, if my son is a little squeamish, my husband is more so, perhaps owing to a sibling's bloody injury he witnessed as a child. So throughout the night, I was either ordering him to leave the room and NOT to help lest he turn a few shades of green (poor thing!!) and throw up or pass out or WATCHING him turn green. :( But you know, you can't blame someone for that kind of thing, and though he felt bad, I was in control of the blood as long as he was in charge of the toddler (and some bloody laundry). She went through a few outfits, three bibs, but gradually, gradually, the bleeding began to be less frequent, and bleed less each time. She did sleep a bit, which allowed the wound to rest without her messing with it! Finally, after about 6 hours, it stopped bleeding. I had to feed her solids in spite of the bleeding to keep her from crying, which would have made it worse. We did chill the food so it would be somewhat soothing, and the feeding went surprisingly well in spite of the blood. Nursing made it start up once. She drank a LOT of ice water--we were advised to give her lots of fluids. But it ended.

I carry my tension in my shoulders, and let me tell you about the knots I had! It's one thing when an injury occurs, is patched, and everyone moves on. It's another thing to have to deal with this kind of bleeding for hours, worried about what toys she can play with, trying to minimize the mess, stop the flow, keep her happy. But we all survived. And everyone slept pretty well last night, considering. Many prayers were said throughout the evening.

Oh! And Chiclette now finds herself confined to a much smaller space--with no furniture.

Mosaic Meme

H/T Melanie


Questions:
1. What is your first name?
2. Favorite food?
3. Where did you go to high school?
4. Favorite color?
5. Celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One word to describe you?
12. Hobby?

Directions:
a. Type your answer to each of the questions above into Flickr Search. b. Using only the first page, pick an image. c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd’s mosaic maker. d. Save image to hard drive and post to blogger. e. Copy HTML code for flickr photo credits and paste at the bottom of the post.

Credits:
1. Title Omitted, 2. Paella a la Valenciana, 3. Nightfall Over Riverdale, 4. The closed window, 5. The Dornoch Firth, 6. Orange Wine, 7. Rossbeigh Strand (HDR Test #1), 8. drinking chocolate, monochrome, 9. 3 marias, 10. The Avenue in mist and sun, 11. Questions/story of my wild river to my ego! (4), 12. chair I love...with pillow I sewed

My Comments:
I looooooove this meme! The resulting images bear very little resemblance to my actual answers, but the fact that I chose them all from the resulting images on Flickr means that the whole thing bears my stamp--in this case, a kind of starkness. I want to do another one with alternate answers. . .

Like this!



1. Church and lace, 2. Pinocchio's Pizza farm, 3. Jefferson Parish & Orleans Parish, 4. Mangosteen, 5. Red Rex Protea flower bud, 6. Offering to the Gods (who must be crazy!), 7. Disney's Magic Kingdom Fireworks, 8. butterfly napoleon, 9. Beautiful & calm, 10. Call of the Raven (formerly Nature's Special Effects), 11. Irrationalities Dark Night..., 12. Sewing Children's Clothing, 1953

A different side of me?