Go Ahead. Laugh. I don't care.

You may recognize these lines as the ones Mowgli utters in the Disney version of Jungle Book when he finds himself lost among the vultures. That's about how I feel right now. The whole "academic motherhood optimism" seems ill-placed. I know that I can do it, but I do need some cooperation from others, and it's not happening.

I was assigned to teach freshman comp. No problems there. I long ago gave up playing the "I deserve to teach lit more than (insert name or category of grad student)" game. I know I have seniority; I don't need it proven to me. It's a silly game and I'm not going to play it. If I ask for freshman comp, guess what? I get freshman comp. No surprises. And I've taught it a bunch, so the prep is easier--as long as I don't change textbooks every semester. But then, I became pregnant. Aha! The plot thickens.

So it seems that the powers-that-be declare that freshman comp (at this university, anyway) can not ever be taught in a way that resembles a distance course, even for a limited amount of time while the instructor is delivering and caring for a newborn. First mistake--asking permission. But the powers-that-be include the dissertation director, so I would have been found out eventually. At least, I think he would have noticed. And he offered helpful solutions--teach advanced comp, which is taught as a hybrid course (in-class and online). I would only have had to report one day a week. However, they who give the assignments did not comply--or even answer his request, and I believe he has been too busy to follow-up, or has had nothing to report. Meanwhile, I could not submit a request for a specific days/time because the times/days for advanced comp are very different from the times/days for freshman comp, so if I gave preferences for one course, they would be irrelevant to the other course, should I be switched. Of course, when I received my schedule, it is the worst possible schedule in addition to the course I am not allowed to teach.

So I am supposed to teach freshman comp from 3-3:50 MWF. First, I can't afford 3-day child care. I can't really afford child care at all, especially when I'd rather have my child with me. But a 2-year-old would at least be able to play, unlike a younger baby (but I'm being told that because she doesn't turn 2 before Sept. 1, she would be in the 18-24 month class, which is a whole different frustration!). Second, part-time child care (and I refuse to do full-time, even if I could afford it!) ends at 2:30. Third, there's that other child of mine who gets off of school in the 3-3:50 window. And then there's that whole taking off the last month of the semester thing. Even if I deliver on time or late, I would need an extraordinary number of substitutes to cover 12 classes!!

In past regimes, the grad student with the schedule conflict would inform the professor who makes the schedules. If the concern was pressing, it was remedied; if not, the grad student had to cope with the difficulty of life for a semester and, basically, get over it. But whining has become increasingly tolerated, and everyone thinks his/her situation is more important than everyone else's. There used to be an acknowledgment, among grad students and faculty, that some people's scheduling needs were more pressing than others. First, class schedules were considered for those who were still taking courses. Second, families or those who had long commutes. Other concerns--like whims, not wanting to work 3 days, or that "other" job that we're not supposed to have--were considered afterwards, if at all. And generally, if one wanted consideration for family concerns, etc., one had to be up front with them early in the request process. I rarely had 8 A.M. sections, for example, because I had to drop my son off in the mornings. The responsible faculty member also took responsibility for rearranging assignments as necessary. Now, we are left to seek the mercy of our peers, which works in some cases, but not all. After all, who really wants a 3-day a week freshman comp? When I first started, we didn't have a choice--pretty much everyone taught freshman comp. And while there was a little grumbling about unfair favoritism, everyone knew that you paid your composition dues before teaching lit. Not so now. And it complicates matters.

I have had a babysitting offer, and one offer to exchange an unknown day/time of freshman comp for my section, but neither offer, while appreciated, takes care of the postpartum dilemma.

Had a mini-breakdown last night. Let's call it hormones. I had two stressful days of making phonecalls and sending emails, finished a nursing top and made a nursing nightgown--neither of which came out as I expected. Found out that even though student loans are being paid, the Department of Education felt the need to confiscate the tax return for the second consecutive year. I'm worried about the baby because no measurements were taken last appointment and I haven't gained any weight (unusual for me). So I went to bed, I cried, then I nearly threw up because my nose was clogged. I cried because I don't want to buy new baby clothes if it's a boy. I cried because I sound like a really strong, self-assured person and all of my plans (which worked for the first 2 babies) are failing. And I cried because there are legions of people (faculty included) who would kill for the opportunity to gloat over a failure to make academic motherhood work.

I had a teacher in high school who used to say that we frequently "set ourselves up for disappointment." I suppose she might apply this phrase to me. I think the idea is that if you don't aim high, if you don't reach for impossible ideals, you will not fall so hard when, in fact, you do fall, as is inevitable. I think I thought her advice was sensible and pragmatic at the time. It seems defeatist to me now. I can't actually see this teacher saying, "Why believe in anything if you'll just be disappointed?" Perhaps she didn't realize the implications of her words. But I remembered her words yesterday.

Housewife, Peasant woman, or Academic mom?

The current generation of working women is still rebelling against the housewife-image perfected by the Donna Reed and June Cleaver generation. I firmly believe this to be true. Feminism was founded on a rejection of the domestic standards upheld by the women who are no longer our mothers, but perhaps now our grandmothers. However, having lost touch with the actual experience of that familial life, are we rebelling against an idea that is hollow--the TV sitcom version of the dutiful wife/mother--or is there any remaining offense to be had?

Consider this. . . The woman of the 40's and 50's was an updated "angel of the house," if you will. She was the ruler of the domestic sphere, until her husband returned from work to find his steak and mashed potatoes on the table. She cooked and cleaned, shopped on a budget, raised children, and perhaps not much else. Who knows anymore? She was the apple of the eye of product developers and advertising agencies. More commercials and products were geared to this woman than to any single consumer today. Well, no. Children are the number one target today, and what does that say about who runs the household? But you take my point. We look at her full skirts and her plastic smile and listen to the Stones' "Mother's Little Helper" to understand all that was wrong with our perfect image of her. Of course, my generation doesn't really have an image of her that is separate from the criticism. She is not my grandmother, though they were contemporaries and share some of the same problems. And so I, also, reject this image, as I have been taught.

During (and perhaps immediately after) my younger child was born in the autumn of 2005, my dissertation adviser (and friend and confidant) had a running joke about me--that I was one of those "peasant women" who give birth in the field, then strap the baby to their backs and keep working. Strictly speaking, this is not true, though it was great for a chuckle. I emphatically did not want to, or, more accurately perhaps, feel that I should have to work in the months immediately after my baby was born. It turns out that I did not merely stay at home and bond with my baby, but that's another tale. . . I have colleagues who were in the classroom within weeks of giving birth. I freely admit that I could not have done this! Instead, I waited through October, November, and December, took on a less-demanding-than-teaching assistantship, and eased back into teaching in the summer and fall. I also took a class on professionalism in the fall.

I have heard and read many discussions recently about childcare, from a friend who is confused & vexed, a blogger whose husband became distressed after she recovered somewhat from first-time daycare blues, from a committed stay-at-home blogger mom lamenting "outsourced motherhood."

[An aside: my 15-month-old just dialed a play phone, help it to her ear, and said "bye bye" before the recorded voice!! Cute!!]

My own experience with childcare is limited. My husband & I did not put our son in any form of child care until he was 3; rather, we "swapped" child care duties literally between graduate classes. Until after kindergarten, which he attended part time, one of us was with him for most of the day. Last August I sincerely tried to place my baby in a church mother's-day-out program one day a week, but after two days of observation/trial, I simply could not. I just do not trust others with my baby--both for emotional and hygienic reasons. We both became very ill after that day of observation, which did nothing for my resolve or self-confidence.

[Just changed a diaper and had my daughter take 3 steps to me!]

Working-woman daycare culture is clearly not for me. However, while I have arranged the past 2 semesters so that I could stay with my daughter during the day and teach in the evenings, when she could be with Daddy, I can not identify myself as a "stay-at-home mom." I criticize both camps, perhaps too freely. That's not my purpose here, however.

It is ingrained in my consciousness that a mother needs to take care of herself while taking care of her children, insofar as it is possible to do both. In spite of extremely difficult situations, including a stretch as a single mother of me and a marriage that was even worse than the first, my mother managed to raise 6 children to believe that taking care of children is valuable, and that one can accomplish a great deal while doing so.

We have a rather unhealthy dichotomy in our contemporary conception of motherhood--a word that good feminists would avoid because it connotes an identity rather than an act--"working mother" is set in opposition to "stay-at-home mom." These terms are interesting in themselves, as "mother" lends more of an air of seriousness to the former situation than the less formal "mom." Hmmmm. . . Of course, working part-time in order to parent also connotes certain personal and financial sacrifices for family. I am aware of a married couple who divorced due to their conflict over whose career was more important. No children without compromise! For me, academia, perhaps grad school in particular! offers a reasonable compromise between these competing versions of motherhood. And dual academic careers are ideal.

But I wanted to think again about the 1940s housewife and the "peasant woman." We base our rejection of "traditional" motherhood on the former, but include the latter in our conceptualization of oppressed women of previous generations who had no choice but to bear children, etc. We differ because we have autonomy, can choose careers, can choose to mother, the possibilities are endless! But are our choices presented fairly? Are we always sacrificing something that the other choice offers? Two roads diverged, and all that. . . I choose to multitask--to work with a baby at my feet (not on my back!). I take care of her; she is mine; I am mine.