A day of doing too much...

Stella is napping. Oh my gosh, how wonderful. I hate to admit it, but i've come to cherish each minute of the down time. Not that I'm working on the diss, mind you, but just for a second to not be "on" all the time. She is getting very good at amusing herself for pockets of time, which is nice - but I also feel bad that I let her to her lonesome. Today I attempted to: make marbled rye bread and homemade vegetable broth at the same time. She is now sort of crawling - ok - really it's a military "I'm under enemy fire, keep low to the ground" sort of drag, but it's getting her around. In between chopping tons of vegetables (really? was it really that much better than just buying a darn carton of $2.50 pre-made broth from Trader Joe's? we'll see. It certainly was a HELL of a lot more work) and proofing dough, Stella dragged herself around the living room to a variety of delights, NONE of which were HER toys. Pelican? Nope. Squishy ball? Nope. Rattle? Nope. Wooden car? Nope. Half chewed, dirty, plastic dog bone? YES PLEASE! Mud caked squeaky ball? MORE MOM! Liver-filled cow bone? OH MY GOSH WHY NOT?

Seriously folks? Is it because I take them out of reach when she goes for them that makes them THAT MUCH MORE enticing? Most likely. Now I really understand when my friend said, Aimee, it's ok that Stella isn't crawling. Really. You don't want her to yet, trust me.

Yet another reason why my post ions ago about babies and doggies and how they like a lot of the same things seems even more true. She worked her butt off last week trying desperately to drag the basket of dog balls out from under the hutch. She comprised and just chewed on the basket instead. Thank goodness I gave up being "that mom" a long time again - you know, "that mom" that won't even let their children down in the grass for fear they will get dirty. Oh no - definitely not that type. Steve and I realized the other day how dirty our house is when we picked Stella up from a particular active round of crawling/dragging and her white polka dot outfit had a big brown smear along the front. Oh dear. We try to keep up with it - but when it rains in San Diego for 2 weeks straight and you have a dog... well, you know. Do I really want my daughter to eat dirty dog toys? No. But I am realistic? Yes.

In other news, Steve was  KICKASS dad while i was gone for my two interviews and took them hiking and to the beach when it wasn't raining. Here are two pics from their hike last Tuesday. I got to meet with the Dean - Stella got to summit a mini-mountain. Guess where I would have rather been?

 

 

Catching up

here's the scoop - which is not so much exciting but whatever. i can't be a drama queen all the time, right?

- interview went well. scared to death about moving to a town that is 90 minutes from mostly anything. but i love the department. if anyone has advice on deciding about a job (not that i have it or anything) between a great job, but a crappity location, let me know.
- i came home and Stella is now (mostly) sleeping through the night, drinking from a sippy cup, eating three solid food meals a day (and heartily) and dragging herself across the floor. all in the three days i was gone. seriously? i should have taken a trip like 3 months ago!
- it rained here for 6 straight days. the yard is flooded, trees are uprooted all over town and scupper has 6 days of energy stored up. woohoo. (note the subtle sarcasm in the "woohoo")

Oh - i leave tomorrow again for another interview. eek. big official talk, lots of meetings with deans and provosts. double eek. flying into philly airport. big huge eek!!!! (for those of you who know, philly airport is NOTORIOUSLY horrible with delays, baggage issues, you name it).

But i digress. here's the last month in pictures.

Stella and her birth friend Izzie eating the border for the foam mats that we have covering part of the living room. Great instead of carpet, not so great for teething. ;)

Chillin'

Playing together

I vant to suck your blood. (or eat beets)

French bread, bottom loaf looks the best, yes?

Yeah, i just hang out and eat lunch with my foot on the table. it's cool.

I don't care that she was eating beets and tofu. i just want something from the table.

Skippyjonjones!!!!!!! (Really fun children's book from my aunt!)

See, I eat EVERYTHING now! Yogurt's my favorite. and pumpkin ain't too bad neither.

I also love pasta and sauce - am I my mother's daughter or what? (however, that impish grin is all Gerlach).

Steve tries out the sling his mom made for him. I think the overalls really set it off, don't they? 

in case you were wondering

I'm sitting in a B&B in Greenville NC boring myself to death by practicing my lecture for tomorrow. Today was airport hell. Of course, today of all days, I had a flight problem - in the biggest freaking airport known to man... or at least to me. My transfer from Houston, TX to Charlotte NC (and mind you, that still wasn't the whole way) was delayed TWO HOURS so I wouldn't make my hopper from Charlotte to Greenville. And Houston's airport is such that if you aren't flying Continental, you have to take A BUS across the tarmac to the "other terminal." that's Right, all the other carriers are at this bastard terminal like 10 minutes away by bus. Weird ass.

So when your flight at the OTHER terminal is delayed, then you need to take a bus to said "other" terminal, talk to a hassled ticket agent for 45 minutes, realized that you've missed the only other flight to Charlotte which is back at the REAL terminal that there is no way you could get to it because you are at the "other" terminal, and then just hope that the flight that she got you on standby to Raleigh is okay and on time and that the 90 minute car ride from Raleigh to Greenville isn't awkward with the search committee chairperson.

Oy.

An observation from a few months ago

So I guess I wrote this a month ago - okay, let's be honest, at least two months ago, when I was working on the diss. I found it again, cleaning up my computer... I thought of this again tonight as I was nursing Stella before bed... getting all sappy because I'm leaving for an interview for three days and this is the first time I will have been gone this long from my daughter since the day she was born. Mixed feelings, to say the least... part of me is REALLY happy that I get a break. (Although an on-campus job interview is HARDLY a break). But I am a bit excited to sleep in a bed all to myself without anyone to wake me up until I'm supposed to get up (although the sad fact of the matter is that I'll probably wake up twice anyway because that little girl has got me TRAINED!) And even though I had a freak out earlier in the week (see blog post below titled "BM") I'm still excited about the prospect about a job. a REAL FREAKING JOB after being a student for so long. I'm ready to be on a real payroll again, I'm ready to stop being a student (and god knows I can't go back to school anymore, so there will be no chance of having to do any of this again). So that is all very exciting.

But part of me... yes, maybe a bigger part of me... is kinda hoping that Steve gets the teaching job he's applying for this week and I can have a year off. Oh yes. a year off. Man, doesn't that sound nice? Where the only "student" I have to answer to is Stella? I could live with that. Driven me - always career-oriented me, always doing, multi-tasking me... could kinda get into being "Mom."

.....

anyway, here's the blog post from months ago...

So I’m sitting in the coffee shop today trying to work on my diss (yes! I am! I’m trying!) - Stella is at home with the babysitter, and I hear this little voice behind me… I turn, and it’s a mom and her daughter – she has a yogurt and a spoon – the mom has a coffee/tea/whatever. She has brownish/blond hair to her shoulders – it’s thin and wispy around her face… and she has the sweetest little voice as she talks and talks to her mom (she’s maybe 3?), her mother just smiling and letting her talk. And I get so choked up it’s unbelievable and I just want to rush home and hug Stella…

I’m excited for her to be that age – I’m excited to see her get to that point – I can’t wait to understand what she’s saying, to go to coffee shops and sit with her and talk to her… to watch her grow. You know, although I know she’s a part of our lives, there are still some days when I think, are they going to come and get her now? Are they going to take her back? Am I just an extended babysitter? (not that I know who “they” is…) and then I realize, no, we get to keep her. “They” aren’t coming. And as scary as hell that is, I’m excited for it. I’m excited for the little being she is becoming, even if she is, as my grandmother would say, an independent cuss. For I wouldn’t want her any other way.

Haiti donations

So as I mentioned, I follow a blog of a mom who has an adoptive son from Haiti and is in the (VERY LONG) process of adopting another one from there. She was there visiting when the earthquake happened. Through reading her blog, I came across another family that is there doing missionary work and living with their 6 children in Haiti. They have started a "T-shirt" campaign as well as accepting donations for the mission they help support that has an orphanage, a school, and a clinic for pregnant mothers to receive pre-natal care, post-natal support, and information on raising healthy kids. I donated to their mission last night. I felt that I had to do something in some small way. If you're interested, here is their website: http://helphaitishirt.com/ and here: http://heartlineministries.org.

I cannot complain

because I have a secure roof over my head, medical care at need, and food in an actual refrigerator. I am devastated looking at the photos and reading the accounts of the earthquake in Haiti. Why do these natural disasters happen in places where the people are already living in such poverty?  Motherhood woes and dissertations are minor in this world folks. I am not deep in rubble searching for my family. While many of you know I'm not a deeply religious person, I would ask if you are, pray for these people at such a time. I will send my own personal missives up to the stars and across the oceans.  I follow a blog of a family that has adopted children from Haiti and hopefully, she'll have some information. If anyone knows of any other resources to reach out, let me know.

BM

No, not "bowel movement" but "Before Motherhood" - this elusive time of my life that I (admittedly) find myself searching for once again, even though I know it never will return.

Nine months ago, I was BM but desperately wishing I had the little babe in my arms.  I was fat, I was cranky, my feet were swollen and nothing better than being a mom was on my radar. Now please, don't freak out (Mom, yes that means you). I'm not saying that I regret our decision in any way.... but it does give one room for pause.

Right now, I'm sitting here and I'm supposed to be working on something. A dissertation chapter possibly, a lesson plan, interview research and preparation for the upcoming interviews... but I'm not. Because I need to get this off my chest. Steve took Stella to run errands to "give me some down time" but in my world, getting an hour away from my daughter does not yield "down time." It yields the uncompleted list of tasks I was supposed to do by last Wednesday. It yields the knowledge that an old friend from NY called me to wish me a Merry Christmas from freaking Germany and I still haven't talked to her. It yields the painful reminders that my dissertation is still 2 unfinished chapters and 3 chapters of revisions away from being done. It yields the dirt in the house, the laundry not done, the library books to be returned, and the interview research still incomplete.

So maybe this isn't about motherhood, but about the teaching profession. That when you are a teacher, you are never done. The job does not end when you walk out the door at 5pm. It stays with you in the evenings as you are preparing lesson plans or grading, it stays with you at 3am when you wake up and realize that you still haven't done revisions to that journal article that is seemingly never going to get submitted (and really, who is going to publish it anyway?), it stays with you when you check your email and yet another student is writing from LAST QUARTER contesting their grade, giving you all sorts of excuses why they really should have received an A- when they only EARNED a B+.

A few years ago a fellow PhD student and friend had a baby and she put the dissertation on hold for awhile and was a mom. (She's a follower of this blog and better blogger than i... her wit is unbelievable folks!) I think it took her another year? year and a half? to finally complete it. And full disclosure, I remember thinking to myself, gosh? Why can't she just write the damn thing? I mean, how hard is it really to do with all those naps that babies take? How could you just "give up" on school to be a mom?

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

Let's just say, I know now. Oh, do I know. And I deeply understand the desire to "just want to be a mom." (as if that were something to "just be"). I mean, we waited awhile to have kids, and I feel some days that I'm shortchanging Stella because I plop her down on a blanket so I can check my email, farm her off with a friend so I can have a phone interview, drop her off with a grad student so I can work my ridiculous graduate job for 4 hours. I am EXTREMELY lucky to have the schedule that I have, to be able to have spent this much time with her without having to put her in full time daycare - I know that. And there is a hard fight within me - on one hand, the desire to be with her full time and relish in that, and the desire to have full time childcare so I can just get my work done and do the other job that I do - teach and write.

But I also wonder if this will ever change? I will still need to grade papers as a professor. I will still need to create lesson plans - and if i get these jobs, I will be teaching FOUR classes a semester. I will need to do all the things that are required so I can get tenure and have job security. I will want to direct a show one year and have to be out every evening for rehearsals for six weeks. And I will probably still be stressed and feel guilty while I do all of this.

In my research to find information out about these on-campus interviews, I came across a book title recommended to female professors - "The Family Track." I requested it from the library and went on Amazon to read some comments about the book before it came. One reader said the book is invaluable for working mothers and women in academia, but might "scare off graduate students" with its raw and honest portrayals of how hard it is (and how hard academia makes it) to be a mom and a professor. I want to read the book, but I'm also scared as well. (And I'm sure waking up at 10pm, midnight, 1:30am and 3:30am to a cranky baby who could be A) teething B) gassy C) on her stomach and refusing to turn over or D) all or none of the above does not bode well for completion of anything).

I think that's why I have gotten into bread baking in the last few years. For me, baking bread is an achievable goal. I mix some ingredients, I wait, I mix them again, I wait. I shape, I bake, and I either have made what I set out to do, or I did something wrong and it didn't work. It's that simple. Within the span of 4-6 hours, I know whether I took care of the dough in such a way for it to be the delicious bread with incredible crumb structure and crunchy exterior that I was searching for.... OR, it sucked. Being a mom does not yield such immediate results. Neither does the path to professorship.

So I am somewhere in limbo. In the middle of a rise. Somewhere where the gluten strands are forming and creating the mixture of water, flour, yeast and salt. I will either rise and bake to perfection, or I'll be flat and hard and dense.

I'm suspecting the latter... but a good loaf of bread would be a nice surprise.

A Pictorial Christmas

Our visit to the Zygmonski's - in pictures (b/c my parents took so many, we have a lot.)

Woohoo! I got a seat all to myself (thank you oh gods of the airlines...)

Pretty cool things are going on outside. This also keeps me occupied for awhile.
This is what keeps Daddy occupied during a two hour delay to Philly. Did I tell you how much we HATE the Philly airport?
Stella gets some Xmas presents - and pretty fun headband so people might finally know she's a girl. (dude, she still wears pink and she gets "how old is HE?" ugh. see, it doesn't matter if you dress them in green or freaking magenta, in our patriarchal society, they ALL are boys!)
'Cause Stella so needed a tutu, right?
Stella decides that she wants to wake up every 45 minutes, so Mom and Dad decide to just watch a movie in bed and then sleep with her, because that has to be better, right? (um, don't ask how that one turned out.)
Bathtime is more fun in a bigger sink, don't you think?
Stella beats up on those younger than her... my high school friend Mara's son Justin.
A visit with Milan, who's just chillin'
Mara (son Justin) and Sejal (son Milan) - we all had those proverbial "clocks" ticking last year, don't you think?
Stella was absolutely fascinated by the bubble lights and the Christmas tree. Grampy Z was happy to comply.
Stella's fella, the best thrift store find evah.
Home again, sorting through all the crap, i mean, stuff.
And my favorite toy? The plastic packaging on Dad's new chamois cloths. Yup. That's our girl.