Adversarial

I have been declared adversarial. On two conservative LDS blogs. Simply for saying things like "Actually, marriages of girls at 14 was not terribly common in the 1840s" and "Census data in Utah during Brigham Young's lifetime does not support the idea that polygamy was necessary because of excess women. There were actually more men than women, which meant that some men went wifeless to allow for polygamy." The thing is, I firmly believe that you can know this information to be true and still have a testimony of the church.

Neighborly

Note to the substance-addicted, unreasonable neighbor downstairs who lied to the apartment manager so that we're on notice for eviction if we don't resolve the "noise problem" (yeah, we're totes awake at 3 am and spend TONS of time having friends over to drink):

It is not my fault that you are alone. It is not my fault that you spend most of your time hungover. It is not my fault that you wake up in the middle of the night. It is not my fault that you're working a crap job. It is not my fault that your car is dying. It is not my fault that you're a grown man living in a college apartment. It is not my fault that you can't put together a reasoned argument.

So stop blaming me and my children for your unhappiness, mmm'k? Sending the management after us won't make your life any better.

Secondary infertility

I didn't even know this was a thing.  Apparently it is, though.  For the last year or two, most of my energy has been devoted to considering why it is that Ben and I were able to conceive with relative ease when we had Bee and J, but have had such difficulty adding baby number three.

I've devoted a lot of my considerable research skills (if I may so flatter myself) to learning about the topic.  And I've come up with this incredibly useful conclusion:  there are about a million possible combinations of factors, and we don't have anything close to the amount of money it will take to figure out what it is.  We'll do some initial things, and maybe we'll get lucky.

But I'm facing up against the possibility that we may not have any more children, regardless of what I want.  It's a sad thought.  I'm working through it, not to mention fighting the muddled feelings that surge up when I interact with a number of babies and small children in my life who either lack parents entirely or have incapable, negligent, or selfish ones who don't meet the needs of the children in question.

There's no easy answer, and for a woman who grew up in a church that wraps so much of a woman's worth into her child-bearing potential, this is something of a crisis.  But like everything else, Ben and I are slogging through it.  We'll see where we land.

Can it be?

Some days, life is just too very good to seem true.

Fibers and old books

Reasons why I feel like a nerdy old lady today:

A colleague/mentor today loaned me a book that's out of print and not at my library, saving me the inter-library loan wait.  It's full of photos of theater renovations in Spain of old corrales, original beams and everything.  I reacted the way many (most?) women would to jewelery or a romantic trip someplace....giggly and excited about the prospect of using/enjoying it when I got home.

I found a place that does natural alpaca fiber, spins it and dyes it themselves and everything.  AND THEY'RE LOCAL.  AND OWNED BY A WOMAN!!



So pretty soon I'm gonna scan me some photos and crochet me some super-soft, hippy fingerless gloves, or maybe a baby hat.

As a somewhat somber side note,  I need a baby of my own to crochet for, but apparently God's not feeling generous with babies lately, at least ones for me.  Which makes me more than a little sad.  Oh well, at least I have work to keep me busy.

Remembering Mamaw

I'm thinking about Mamaw* tonight.

She always gifted me books.  We have a photo of a six-year-old me hugging a leather bound copy of the complete works of Lewis Carroll that was the preferred present that year.  She also gave me Little Women, The Secret Garden, and introduced me to the Laura Ingalls Wlder books.  In some ways I think I can blame her for both my lasting interest in women writers and my love of feminist criticism.  The fact that I'm now near completion of my PhD in literature would have thrilled her.  

I can see her sitting in the swing on the back porch at the Lake, the slightly-yellow light on and the warm summer air cooling while we rocked back and forth.  She used to start almost everything she  said to me with "Emily honey...".   She was so very wise and helped me to be patient with both myself and others.  She also helped me to enjoy white hyacinths for the soul.

So tonight in celebration of submitting revisions, I'm pretending I don't have grading to do and eating an evening snack that's a collection of my favorite things.  Thanks, T, for saving Mamaw's china for me so that I can feel a little closer to her at times like this.

* it is important to know that my family comes from Tennessee and her name is "Maw-maw." Not "Meah-maw."

Taking the easy way out

I've been revising most of the day.  Finished a chapter, started on another.

I'm tired and frustrated and worn down by the whole process and by the fact that it seems like I still have SO MUCH to do before it's done. 

I still have to basically re-write the worst chapter (saving the worst for last), plus write a conclusion, plus finish the works cited page, plus do all the formatting the graduate school and the online submission folks require...

I need to do this all before Monday night.  My students take another round of exams on Tuesday, which will mean me buried in grading again next week with no time to work.  My adviser needs time to look at the draft so that she can approve it or I can make some last changes before the committee gets it, but they need it before March 1st so I'm under a crunch.

It makes me feel overwhelmed.

So, just for now, I'm going to take a break and do easy things.  Run the sweeper, unload the dishwasher, and shuffle the laundry. 

Too bad I can whip my house into perfect shape in something like 35 minutes.  If only I could write as easily.

Outside observers

Yesterday while Mom and I were chatting (on a writing break), we got to talking about the way Ben and I manage things.  House, kids, money, work, driving, camping....just everything.

She said that as she's watched us, she noticed that we're either both working or both resting.

Which is true.  Unless I'm napping or Ben is out with the dog, we're either both doing a job (paid, out of the home or maintenance in the home) or both resting.

It made me think that maybe I should teach my kids to look to marry a person that they love enough that they're willing to work so that they can rest with them.

For example, I hate doing dishes and folding laundry.  If we work together to get them done, or he does one while I do the other, then when we finish we do something together.  We'd both rather be playing with kids than working at out-of-the-home jobs, but since we both work  we get to do great things (like backpacking trips or visits to faraway family) all together with the kids.  (As opposed to Ben working insane hours so we could scrape by).

I like it!  It works!  And it makes me happy!  It makes the challenges we come up against seem much more manageable....I guess because we handle most things together!

And I thought...most of my leisure time is spent with Ben.  And how great is that? 

I'm glad for her observation and my analysis of it.

Support

This week I'm grateful for people who love me and love my children.

Ben has outdone himself with fixing things around the house, taking kids to do fun things, and keeping things like laundry and dishes and homework together while I wrote like a madwoman last week.

This week mom is here, and I've made such dramatic progress that I can't even stand it!  I mean, I haven't written 9 pages in one day since before Bee made her appearance!

I'm sure I could finish the dissertation without help with those things.  But my life would be a sad, sad, sleep-deprived shadow of the good thing that it is with their help.

And so I'm glad for support - not just the verbal "Go get 'em, tiger!" kind of support, but money-and-time-where-your-mouth-is support.

Light

I finally see light at the end of the tunnel.  I've started the outlines for the last two chapters, I've got one outline done and one nearly there.

So next week while Mom's here to help with kids, I'm hoping to get them both drafted, even if they're rough.

And even though writing looks like this:

I feel a lot like this:

Time to watch a movie with Ben and then eat some ice cream.