Friday, June 29, 2012
More revisions....
Or, the "I'm never going to finish so I'm just giving up now" post.
I just got revisions back on a chapter just prior to sending off a second. These were to be minor just-pre-final things to wrap up. My advisor had already been through this chapter once and I made the big changes and sent it to her for final-approval things, which this feedback ought to have been. Except it's not. These suggestions are huge and consuming and will precipitate changes in the draft I thought I was ready to send off. Which means more revisions and then sending the two away together and never seeing them again (well, or for six months, but you know).
I'm feeling frustrated and incapable and stupid. I think I need to sleep and work on it tomorrow. Hopefully things will look better in the morning, but somehow I doubt it.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
No more babies
My babies aren't babies any more. That combined with the frustration I mentioned a couple of posts ago has me about ready to have some sort of emotional breakdown. Maybe that's an exaggeration. I do miss having a tiny one to snuggle.
Those things in mind though I have two J stories that warmed my heart.
First, the other day we were at my dad and stepmom's house for Sunday dinner. I got to hold my new little nephew (he really is darling). Bee came over to see him and pat his head and tickle his toes, so of course J followed. I was nervous because he can be rough sometimes...not intentionally, just because he doesn't know how strong he is. He very softly patted the baby's head and then said "Momma, weeoo dust tate it?". As in, will you just take it. Like home. I had to explain that the baby was NOT ours and would have to go home with his momma. J was disappointed.
Second, today when I was snuggling him in for naps he rubbed my shoulder for a minute and then said "dat's bedder, momma? I just wuv eeoo.". I don't know how he could tell I was having a day of it but I almot cried that he wanted to make me feel better.
I'm so glad that he's a sweet boy. And I'm so glad that he came to our little family where we won't feel a need to teach him that that sweet sensitivity is somehow equivalent to weakness or girliness and something he needs to remove from his personality.
First, the other day we were at my dad and stepmom's house for Sunday dinner. I got to hold my new little nephew (he really is darling). Bee came over to see him and pat his head and tickle his toes, so of course J followed. I was nervous because he can be rough sometimes...not intentionally, just because he doesn't know how strong he is. He very softly patted the baby's head and then said "Momma, weeoo dust tate it?". As in, will you just take it. Like home. I had to explain that the baby was NOT ours and would have to go home with his momma. J was disappointed.
Second, today when I was snuggling him in for naps he rubbed my shoulder for a minute and then said "dat's bedder, momma? I just wuv eeoo.". I don't know how he could tell I was having a day of it but I almot cried that he wanted to make me feel better.
I'm so glad that he's a sweet boy. And I'm so glad that he came to our little family where we won't feel a need to teach him that that sweet sensitivity is somehow equivalent to weakness or girliness and something he needs to remove from his personality.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Funny of the day
"There is no better way to dispel the myth that Romney is detached patrician elite than...competitive horse prancing!"
Stephen Colbert, for the win.
Stephen Colbert, for the win.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Much ado about nothing
I've read a lot of hype about an article in the Atlantic by Anne Marie Slaughter.
Yes, I know it's in a major paper and therefore lots of people will comment on it - but why all of the "you quitter"/"you whiner"/"suck it up"/"you just THINK you're a good mother" comments??? That's what I don't get. Judging from the responses coming from many people, I imagine they didn't read the entire article but are instead basing their conclusions off the title she gives it. After all, it's a full seven internet pages, which in internet terms makes it about as finish-able for most people as, say, the Quijote.
I slogged through it, and found much to agree with and much to disagree with. Overall, I liked it because it wasn't another "go get-em, girls, you can do it all if you're just willing to be sleep-deprived enough!" (because as any woman who has tried to have children and a career knows, the success you have at both often depends on how well you can survive sacrificing sleep). One important note that contradicts what many of her critics are saying about her article, she is NOT saying "women can't have it all but should be able to! Whah, whah, life is so unfair to women!"
My favorite of her conclusions is this line:
"Having it all, at least for me, depended almost entirely on what type of job I had. The flip side is the harder truth: having it all was not possible in many types of jobs, including high government office—at least not for very long."
Read: if you choose to have children, you will have to make hard choices and many professional options will be closed to you. Be ye warned.
I think it's a perfectly reasonable statement/warning/conclusion.
The statement I quote above sums up why I chose to pursue a career as a professor rather than as a high school teacher (the original plan - and I would have been a miserable failure at it, might I add!). Or a prosecutor (the next option I happened upon - there I would have been a miserable example of burnout, I think). I wanted the flexibility that would allow me to do both, and do them both well.
I have to work hard to do both, and I'm certainly no Melveena McKendrick or Linda Eyre. But I am raising kids who are (so far) reasonably-behaved, respectful, healthy, intelligent, and happy. And I produce students who do things like give me flowers at the end of a term (I almost cried at that, gotta admit), and decide to pursue Spanish minors when I'm done with them.
It makes me happy.
Yes, I know it's in a major paper and therefore lots of people will comment on it - but why all of the "you quitter"/"you whiner"/"suck it up"/"you just THINK you're a good mother" comments??? That's what I don't get. Judging from the responses coming from many people, I imagine they didn't read the entire article but are instead basing their conclusions off the title she gives it. After all, it's a full seven internet pages, which in internet terms makes it about as finish-able for most people as, say, the Quijote.
I slogged through it, and found much to agree with and much to disagree with. Overall, I liked it because it wasn't another "go get-em, girls, you can do it all if you're just willing to be sleep-deprived enough!" (because as any woman who has tried to have children and a career knows, the success you have at both often depends on how well you can survive sacrificing sleep). One important note that contradicts what many of her critics are saying about her article, she is NOT saying "women can't have it all but should be able to! Whah, whah, life is so unfair to women!"
My favorite of her conclusions is this line:
"Having it all, at least for me, depended almost entirely on what type of job I had. The flip side is the harder truth: having it all was not possible in many types of jobs, including high government office—at least not for very long."
Read: if you choose to have children, you will have to make hard choices and many professional options will be closed to you. Be ye warned.
I think it's a perfectly reasonable statement/warning/conclusion.
The statement I quote above sums up why I chose to pursue a career as a professor rather than as a high school teacher (the original plan - and I would have been a miserable failure at it, might I add!). Or a prosecutor (the next option I happened upon - there I would have been a miserable example of burnout, I think). I wanted the flexibility that would allow me to do both, and do them both well.
I have to work hard to do both, and I'm certainly no Melveena McKendrick or Linda Eyre. But I am raising kids who are (so far) reasonably-behaved, respectful, healthy, intelligent, and happy. And I produce students who do things like give me flowers at the end of a term (I almost cried at that, gotta admit), and decide to pursue Spanish minors when I'm done with them.
It makes me happy.
Done!
I think it's funny that I repeatedly post "done!" without ever really being it.
But another term has come and gone. Graded the finals in less than 5 hours. Once the university system opens rosters I'll be able to enter final grades (yeah, I've never been so on top of grading as to BEAT THE REGISTRAR TO READINESS!) and truly be done.
We're celebrating with the Fenwick festival tomorrow....we've been living on dreams of roast corn and funnel cakes for weeks now. Or at least I have.
Ideally in the six remaining weeks of summer I'll finish two dissertation chapters. I'd love if I did more than that, but I'm trying to keep my expectations reasonable.
So much for being done, I guess....at least I got to be done with SOMETHING, even if it was only for a few hours.
But another term has come and gone. Graded the finals in less than 5 hours. Once the university system opens rosters I'll be able to enter final grades (yeah, I've never been so on top of grading as to BEAT THE REGISTRAR TO READINESS!) and truly be done.
We're celebrating with the Fenwick festival tomorrow....we've been living on dreams of roast corn and funnel cakes for weeks now. Or at least I have.
Ideally in the six remaining weeks of summer I'll finish two dissertation chapters. I'd love if I did more than that, but I'm trying to keep my expectations reasonable.
So much for being done, I guess....at least I got to be done with SOMETHING, even if it was only for a few hours.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
I hope she wins
On my way home from work today I caught the edge of a piece on NPR discussing Caster Semenya. I was fascinated by their discussion of how testosterone levels affect (or don't) different people, given that some are more sensitive to low levels and others are less sensitive to high levels; how there's no particularly good cutoff for what's a "male" level versus a "female" level, leading to some male athletes with very LOW testosterone levels; and how it's interesting that you're not born with a specific testosterone level that then stays relatively constant, but rather that the activities that you engage in can make you produce more/less of it.
FASCINATING!
Here's a good piece on it. And another. And another.
So I'm reeling with a brain soup of the unfairness in this violation of a woman's right to her body (different though it may be from some imagined "normal"), frustration that they're regulating (here read: making them undergo hormone therapy to lower their levels if they want to continue to compete) what is a NATURALLY OCCURRING level for these women simply because of the commonly-held belief that testosterone is a "man thing," and anger at the assumption that if a woman is good at something physical, it must be that she's trying to be like a man and therefore shouldn't be allowed to compete with other women.
In all of that, I googled her. She's an 800 runner. Which of course makes me like her. Of all the track and field races, I think the 800 is particularly brutal, and if you've ever run it, you know why. It's short enough that you're supposed to run freaking fast. And long enough that it hurts like hell to do that.
Which is why it was the only track race I ever enjoyed (though I did the 1600m, the 3200m, and anchored the 4x8, often in the same meet....yeah, 4 miles per meet running track). Go figure. Me and my gluttony for punishment.
Watch some beautiful, powerful, focused running. And hope with me that she wins this summer.
FASCINATING!
Here's a good piece on it. And another. And another.
So I'm reeling with a brain soup of the unfairness in this violation of a woman's right to her body (different though it may be from some imagined "normal"), frustration that they're regulating (here read: making them undergo hormone therapy to lower their levels if they want to continue to compete) what is a NATURALLY OCCURRING level for these women simply because of the commonly-held belief that testosterone is a "man thing," and anger at the assumption that if a woman is good at something physical, it must be that she's trying to be like a man and therefore shouldn't be allowed to compete with other women.
In all of that, I googled her. She's an 800 runner. Which of course makes me like her. Of all the track and field races, I think the 800 is particularly brutal, and if you've ever run it, you know why. It's short enough that you're supposed to run freaking fast. And long enough that it hurts like hell to do that.
Which is why it was the only track race I ever enjoyed (though I did the 1600m, the 3200m, and anchored the 4x8, often in the same meet....yeah, 4 miles per meet running track). Go figure. Me and my gluttony for punishment.
Watch some beautiful, powerful, focused running. And hope with me that she wins this summer.
Friday, June 8, 2012
We're going to the zoo.....zoo.....zoo.....
How about you.....you......you? You can come too.....too.....too. We're going to the zoo!
Actually, the kids and I already went to the zoo today, so you won't be able to come. Sorry. Maybe next time.
True testament of what a terrible mother I am, we have no pictures to prove it. I'm not one of those moms who photographs their child's every move (or even every milestone). Maybe I should feel guilty about that (or at least more guilty than I do....enough to make me take more pictures).
Anyway.
This last year I've fought off feelings of dissatisfaction that my life didn't unfold the way I intended when it came to adding the next baby to our family. In my ideal world, I'd have a 6-week-old right now. And I don't. Not only that, but I'm not even pregnant.....the only time in the last two years I thought I might have been, I was quickly and unexpectedly proved wrong....and then ran a half marathon the next day out of spite. I guess sometimes even despite our own best-laid plans and efforts, life just doesn't work how we want it to.
When that happens I do my best to reassure myself with the typical LDS rhetoric about how Heavenly Father knows better and must have a plan. And then I invariably degenerate into frustration that God's will = suffering, which doesn't match what I think I know of God.....and I just try to shut it off. Better that than get seethingly mad, right?
Anyway.
Today was a moment that I could truly appreciate that my life (at least for now) didn't go the way I wanted, and I don't have a nursing infant right now.
Friday's a work-free day for me in the summer, so we slept in late this morning, the kids and I got ourselves together finally at about 10, and we trucked off to the zoo. The kids each have a mini-mule Camelbak backpack. They wore their hats, carried their backpacks with their lunch and water, and didn't complain. Walked on their own feet with only an occasional hand-hold or on-my-shoulders-for-up-a-hill for J. No strollers, no diapers, no snacks I had to be in charge of. And we stayed at the zoo for very nearly 6 hours. They both had specific things they wanted to see, didn't whine when exhibits they wanted to see were closed (baby red river hogs, of all things), made amusing comments that were understandable not only to me but to passersby, and when we got ice cream as a huge splurge treat (who buys ice cream when it has at-the-zoo prices?!?! Never me) they ate it without making any mess. Not a big mess, any mess at all.
It was amazing. And fun. And remarkably easy. I felt like I was in some sort of alternate universe from my normal one.
And though I'm still sad that I don't have the baby I want, I did get to have a moment of "life is so much easier with this plan than it would have been with mine."
Actually, the kids and I already went to the zoo today, so you won't be able to come. Sorry. Maybe next time.
True testament of what a terrible mother I am, we have no pictures to prove it. I'm not one of those moms who photographs their child's every move (or even every milestone). Maybe I should feel guilty about that (or at least more guilty than I do....enough to make me take more pictures).
Anyway.
This last year I've fought off feelings of dissatisfaction that my life didn't unfold the way I intended when it came to adding the next baby to our family. In my ideal world, I'd have a 6-week-old right now. And I don't. Not only that, but I'm not even pregnant.....the only time in the last two years I thought I might have been, I was quickly and unexpectedly proved wrong....and then ran a half marathon the next day out of spite. I guess sometimes even despite our own best-laid plans and efforts, life just doesn't work how we want it to.
When that happens I do my best to reassure myself with the typical LDS rhetoric about how Heavenly Father knows better and must have a plan. And then I invariably degenerate into frustration that God's will = suffering, which doesn't match what I think I know of God.....and I just try to shut it off. Better that than get seethingly mad, right?
Anyway.
Today was a moment that I could truly appreciate that my life (at least for now) didn't go the way I wanted, and I don't have a nursing infant right now.
Friday's a work-free day for me in the summer, so we slept in late this morning, the kids and I got ourselves together finally at about 10, and we trucked off to the zoo. The kids each have a mini-mule Camelbak backpack. They wore their hats, carried their backpacks with their lunch and water, and didn't complain. Walked on their own feet with only an occasional hand-hold or on-my-shoulders-for-up-a-hill for J. No strollers, no diapers, no snacks I had to be in charge of. And we stayed at the zoo for very nearly 6 hours. They both had specific things they wanted to see, didn't whine when exhibits they wanted to see were closed (baby red river hogs, of all things), made amusing comments that were understandable not only to me but to passersby, and when we got ice cream as a huge splurge treat (who buys ice cream when it has at-the-zoo prices?!?! Never me) they ate it without making any mess. Not a big mess, any mess at all.
It was amazing. And fun. And remarkably easy. I felt like I was in some sort of alternate universe from my normal one.
And though I'm still sad that I don't have the baby I want, I did get to have a moment of "life is so much easier with this plan than it would have been with mine."
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Strawberries
Every year we pick strawberries that I then freeze or process into jam. Someday I'd love to have a strawberry patch - it's definitely on the "dreaming about it" list for the mini-farm someday. And we have enough plants that my kids snack on an ever-bearing variety most of the summer. But for now we have to go elsewhere for real quantity (and quality, in all honesty).
This year we had to find a new place because the drive to Indiana just seemed a bit much, even though we really liked the farm we used to go to when we lived there.
So I found a new place, and we picked 23 pounds of strawberries this morning. Well, Ben and Bee and I picked, J mostly wandered and said "Daddy, wee-ewww hold me fah why-dull?"
Now, price-wise I'm sure we're no better off than what we'd be buying them from the supermarket. It's either an even match or just a tiny bit cheaper, which the gas to make the drive will offset.
But there are things that make it worth it:
1) They are TINY, very red berries that are all sweetness and no genetically-altered white puffiness in their inside flesh.
2) They use no pesticides or organophosphates on their plants - which means I'm not stockpiling chemicals into my kids' systems.
3) We did some hard work with our own two hands. NEVER a bad thing.
4) My children observed things like "This is a hard job! I think I want to be an animal doctor instead so I don't have to be in the sun all day!" and "I'm glad there are people who work picking berries so I don't have to pick my own every day! They work hard."
All in all, a worthwhile, yummy, and fun morning.
This year we had to find a new place because the drive to Indiana just seemed a bit much, even though we really liked the farm we used to go to when we lived there.
So I found a new place, and we picked 23 pounds of strawberries this morning. Well, Ben and Bee and I picked, J mostly wandered and said "Daddy, wee-ewww hold me fah why-dull?"
Now, price-wise I'm sure we're no better off than what we'd be buying them from the supermarket. It's either an even match or just a tiny bit cheaper, which the gas to make the drive will offset.
But there are things that make it worth it:
1) They are TINY, very red berries that are all sweetness and no genetically-altered white puffiness in their inside flesh.
2) They use no pesticides or organophosphates on their plants - which means I'm not stockpiling chemicals into my kids' systems.
3) We did some hard work with our own two hands. NEVER a bad thing.
4) My children observed things like "This is a hard job! I think I want to be an animal doctor instead so I don't have to be in the sun all day!" and "I'm glad there are people who work picking berries so I don't have to pick my own every day! They work hard."
All in all, a worthwhile, yummy, and fun morning.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Paying it forward
Were it not for the confidence, wisdom, and encouragement of a phenomenal woman who has profoundly influenced my life, I never would have applied for a PhD program.
After all, it wasn't something that was on the checklist I was taught from Sunbeams on....you know, the "get baptized, get my YW recognition award, go on a mission (but only if I wasn't married!), go to the temple to get married, have babies and be happy forever" list. That one. The "I've completed the checklist, now I get to be righteous!" list.
I started my MA program simply because Ben wasn't done with school yet and I needed something to do. And then my worldview totally shifted. And I started to think that maybe I could do something other than the "checklist" approach with the rest of my life.
My dear mentor and friend (you know who you are!!) encouraged me to believe I could do it. Not just to go through the motions, but to recognize the qualities in myself that made me fit for academic work. She still reminds me of it sometimes, on my bad days. And I'm really thankful to her for that.
Today I got a voicemail message from a young woman who's finishing college and considering a graduate program. My memories of her are of a really cute hairbow-wearing 6-year-old, the much younger sister of my younger sister's friend. The message was something along the lines of "My mom said I should call you because you've done the graduate school process and might have advice for me."
I hope that I didn't overwhelm her! :-)
I just spent over an hour talking to her.....it's funny how you find a kindred spirit in someone you never expected to. I heard myself asking questions about her plans and what she's done so far, then saying things that have been said to me, words of encouragement and validation. She's obviously done her homework and is very serious about making sure that she's following the path that God has for her....and that is what makes me so sure that she's going to be just fine.
It felt good to pay the favor forward, and especially good to help her feel confident and capable. Especially when she said that growing up in the Church had kept her from seeing the grad school path as an option.
I've been there, and felt that dichotomy. Fortunately for me, I recognized its falsity. It was good to be able to discuss it and re-affirm my knowledge that you can manage both; I would hate for her to feel like she had to choose between the two.
After all, it wasn't something that was on the checklist I was taught from Sunbeams on....you know, the "get baptized, get my YW recognition award, go on a mission (but only if I wasn't married!), go to the temple to get married, have babies and be happy forever" list. That one. The "I've completed the checklist, now I get to be righteous!" list.
I started my MA program simply because Ben wasn't done with school yet and I needed something to do. And then my worldview totally shifted. And I started to think that maybe I could do something other than the "checklist" approach with the rest of my life.
My dear mentor and friend (you know who you are!!) encouraged me to believe I could do it. Not just to go through the motions, but to recognize the qualities in myself that made me fit for academic work. She still reminds me of it sometimes, on my bad days. And I'm really thankful to her for that.
Today I got a voicemail message from a young woman who's finishing college and considering a graduate program. My memories of her are of a really cute hairbow-wearing 6-year-old, the much younger sister of my younger sister's friend. The message was something along the lines of "My mom said I should call you because you've done the graduate school process and might have advice for me."
I hope that I didn't overwhelm her! :-)
I just spent over an hour talking to her.....it's funny how you find a kindred spirit in someone you never expected to. I heard myself asking questions about her plans and what she's done so far, then saying things that have been said to me, words of encouragement and validation. She's obviously done her homework and is very serious about making sure that she's following the path that God has for her....and that is what makes me so sure that she's going to be just fine.
It felt good to pay the favor forward, and especially good to help her feel confident and capable. Especially when she said that growing up in the Church had kept her from seeing the grad school path as an option.
I've been there, and felt that dichotomy. Fortunately for me, I recognized its falsity. It was good to be able to discuss it and re-affirm my knowledge that you can manage both; I would hate for her to feel like she had to choose between the two.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)