I heart nature

Wow! As seen at Pharyngula:

Bathroom reading? BATHROOM reading?!?

Yesterday was the second day of the material culture course I'm teaching during the first summer session. The day went well, I thought. We talked about corsets, hats with dead birds on them, and African-American women's church hats, with tangents into stiletto heels and push-up bras. Lots of good discussion, and some laughter, as is appropriate when talking about push-up bras and hats with dead birds on them.

After I dismissed the class, a student who had missed the first meeting came up to tell me he was glad he was taking the class because it was "cool."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it already," I replied.

"Yeah, I love this stuff," he said. "I love knowing random bits of stuff. It's like, you know, bathroom reading. I love those bathroom readers."

*sigh*

Child development

Playgroup update:

Well, so much for playgroup. Lucas fell asleep in my arms shortly before we were to leave. I planned to let him sleep for an hour or so (his usual morning nap duration) and then catch the second hour of playgroup.

Except then I lay down next to him and the two of us slept for almost two hours. Oops.

Oh well. 'Tis for the best, since he had a weepy eye yesterday, and the LAST thing I need is to be known as That Trashy Mom Whose Kid Gave Everyone An Eye Infection.


In other news:

Mr. Trillwing and I actually had a date last night--Thai food and Superman. Fun!

Lucas discovered his penis during his bath a couple days ago and wouldn't let go of it. Mr. Trillwing feigned tears: "He is my son!"

This morning Lucas is trying to figure out how to open the closures on his diaper. He's big into snaps, buttons, zippers, and drawstrings, so I guess it's inevitable that soon he'll figure out the Velcro-like attachments and be running around nekkid. Yay.

In other diaper news, I noticed that the size 5 diapers are getting a bit small on him. I don't recall seeing size 6 diapers, so I checked online, and sure enough, it appears many brands don't carry size 6. Really, I didn't expect to be checking out pull-ups at 10 months.

The little guy has a paper addiction. We can't keep him out of the paper recycling bin. He tears off little pieces and chews them like gum until Mama throws herself across the room to sweep her finger through his mouth.

Lucas has learned not only to pull his daddy's DVDs off the shelf, but how to take the boxed sets apart. Right now he's playing with Kojak, Columbo, and All in the Family. Quality viewing for babies!

House envy: rambling and rumbling

So. . . I don't consider myself to be particularly materialistic. I mean, I have stuff. Lots of stuff. But none of it is of particularly high quality because hey, I'm a grad student, and because I'm not about brand names or top-of-the-line products loaded with features (OK, except for Apple. I love me those Macintosh computers). I wish I could live more simply--with less stuff--but honestly, most of my personal stuff right now is dissertation- and school-related: books, papers, shelves, desk, etc.

Our living room has an old, broken-down couch and two, er, well-worn chairs, as well as the "kitchen" table and the hardware trappings of Mr. Trillwing's multimedia funhouse. It's not pretty.

Accordingly, we don't have people over much. Grad students, yes. That we can manage. People who understand the madness, the sacrifices, and the teeny-tiny paychecks behind the squalor.

But I'm starting to go to more and more playgroups, and the assumption is that if one goes to playgroup, one hosts playgroup every once in awhile.

And I have yet to see a playgroup held in an apartment complex, let alone in a house that isn't, um, perfect. We're talking new hardwood floors, built-in bookcases, granite countertops, etc.

It's enough to make a trillwing reconsider her life's path. Instead of having (ahem) $XX,XXX in debt, might I have made a down payment on a house in that same amount? If I had done so five, six years ago, it would have qualified as a nice down payment. Today, even if that debt had absolute value signs embracing it (remember those from algebra class?), it still wouldn't be enough for a down payment.

These moms' houses are $500,000, $700,000 homes. So I know these people are carrying a lot of debt, too. But they also seem comfortable and happy in their homes, able to have guests over and entertain.

I'd be embarrassed to host these new mothers at my place: the carpet stains I can never seem to conquer, the ever-present floating dog hair, the stacked plastic tubs of dissertation archive materials, the scratched kitchen cupboards probably last refinished in the 1980s, the boring white heavily textured walls. It's depressing, really, even if it is my current home and if I've had a lot of good times here.

I'd host a playgroup in the park, but it's too damn hot these days.

I think I've mentioned before that my parents bought their home in 1968 for $28,000. It's three blocks from the beach, three bedrooms, big yard, lots of nice wood floors and moldings. At the time they bought it, $28,000 was about 3x their combined schoolteaching income. Today the home is worth about $1.5 million.

(Mr. Trillwing's salary + my salary) x 3 = not enough for even a down payment on a home like that, let alone one in the dusty hothouse of the Big Tomato (aka Sactown, Sacto) or its sprawling suburbs. And there's no way--absolutely no way--we could afford to buy real estate in this pleasant, if scorching, little town where we currently reside.

Don't get me wrong: I don't feel sorry for myself. Not at all. But I'm wondering how I'm going to negotiate this brave new world of mommy networking without a "real" home base.

And I'm wondering, too, if accepting an academic life means I'm stuck on the sad little rental track for a long, long time.

Conversation with Lucas

Me: Son, you can't be both nocturnal and diurnal.

Lucas: Nya-nya-nya-nya-nya!

My Age of Aquarius

I can't remember on whose blog I saw the Environics 3SC survey, but here are my results:



Surprise! I have an inner angry, sarcastic hippie.


Details:

Incidence in Population

* Proportion of Canadian population: 5 per cent
* Proportion of Gen Xers: 14 per cent

Other Demographics

* Mostly mirror the general population

Fundamental Motivations

Social Justice and Experience-seeking

Key Values

* Adaptability
* Concern for the less fortunate
* Concern for the environment
* Respect for education
* Contempt for traditional authorities
* Hedonism

Words to Live By

* There is no being, only becoming
* Everything changed in Seattle
* No justice, no peace

Icons

* Singer Sarah McLachlan
* Author Naomi Klein
* Singer/activist Jello Biafra
* Rap-metal group Rage Against the Machine
* Author/activist John Zerzan
* Actress Sarah Michelle Gellar
* Dead Prez


Money Orientation

Making it: I'd never do work I didn't believe in.

Spending it: When I must consume at all, I consume with conscience.

Saving it: I'm not saving much now, but when I do I'll call the shots.

Stealing it: No, thanks.

Giving it away: Environmental and social causes.

Because there's a blog for EVERYTHING

Hitler Cats!



(as seen at Buzz Marketing with Blogs)

A few books I've been meaning to plug:

Assassination Vacation by Sarah Vowell: absolutely delightful, especially if you have an abiding interest in the weirdness of U.S. history.

Building Suburbia by Dolores Hayden: a fascinating history of the evolution of suburbs. A nice companion piece to The Lawn by Virginia Jenkins.

The Academic Kitchen by Maresi Nerad: on the academic domestic sciences and women students being admitted to Berkeley.

Disappearing Acts by Joyce K. Fletcher: a study of women design engineers and organizational culture, with a focus on relational practice and emotional intelligence. Sounds dry, I know, but it's an interesting read, especially if you're into women and science & technology.

The Science Education of American Girls by Kim Tolley: Did you know science was once considered a more proper course of study for young women than for young men? As LeVar Burton's minions would say, "you'll just have to take my word until you read the book yourself."

What the hey?

We lose Tabitha Teaches and Not Worth the Fuss in the same week?

I'll miss Betty's and Tabitha's insights. If you women are actually blogging elsewhere now, kindly drop me a line.

Crying it out: All together now. . .

Don't know who's more worn out these days: Lucas or me.

Oh hell, it's me, hands down. Who are we kidding?

Mr. Trillwing is treating himself to a concert tonight. There's nothing like standing in the 5 p.m. 106-degree sun in an outdoor concert venue. Needless to say, I stayed home. I'm not much of a concertgoer nor a standing-in-the-heat type.

But that means, of course, that I'm home with the babe. Since Lucas was especially active today and since his naps were a bit shorter than usual, I assumed he would be heading to bed early.

Ha!

Here's the deal: He made motions toward sleep at 8 p.m., so I put him in his crib, and he slept for about 20 minutes. Since then (it's now 10:40 p.m.), we've had quite the adventure. I tried letting him cry scream it blood-curdlingly out for about an hour, occasionally going in to pat him on the back. I gave him half a bottle of formula after the first 40 minutes because I was worried his little throat was getting raw. He cried while he drank because I didn't take him out of his crib. I turned on a nightlight for him and some music and hung out near his crib while he screamed. I'm pretty sure I suffered some hearing loss.

I threw in the Ferber towel around 10:15, cuddling with him in bed for a few minutes before I realized he was wide awake from all the shrieking. At 10:30 I took him for a walk with the dog, carrying him in my arms while he nursed a bottle. (Tangent: There were people out jogging at 10:30 because it's the coolest part of the day. Crazy!) Now he's reclining in my lap, gurgling, gripping his empty bottle by the nipple, and alternately waving the bottle in lazy circles and knocking it against my hands, his feet, and his head. It's a good life. . .for him.

I'm feeling increasingly trapped, mostly by the heat, but also by the childcare situation--and by a combination of the two, since strapping Lucas into a hot carseat in a broiling car, and then putting him in a stroller that's been baking in the trunk all day once we reach our destination, is not appealing. I'm trying to get out to playgroups, but I start teaching again on Monday, and my three-day-a-week teaching schedule will limit my time.

I'm also feeling a lot of dissertation stress. Fantastic Adviser and I put together a new schedule for completion, a very realistic one I think, but the whole revision process is still really stressful. Academic job announcements are coming out now, and I know I need to finish the diss before applying for any positions. My committee is demanding, and most days I think that's a good thing. Some days it's harder to accept the high standards to which I'm being held when I suspect other students have not been required by their committees to turn in the same caliber of work.

So: baby stress + dissertation stress + heat + lack of time & will to exercise = depression. I'm withdrawing into my own shell and I don't want to talk to anyone--even the usual people--about it, except my good friend Breena, who's just so full of positive, relaxed, take-life-as-it-comes energy that I can't help but feel cheered. My apologies to those of you whose e-mail and phone calls I haven't returned; I'm taking some me-time this month and next.


Meanwhile, there are people out there with real problems, and I guess it's good I still recognize that. I recently learned that someone for whom Mr. Trillwing and I have a great deal of affection has been going through some tough times these past few months, but I didn't notice because our interactions have been intermittent and it's always me, me, me! (You know who you are. Yes, you, the cute and usually self-assured one from Wisconsin. If you're reading this, sorry 'bout my totally failing to catch on earlier. Let's get together for Jamba Juice, if you're up for it. My e-mail address is over there in the right sidebar.)


Oh, a bit of good news: my "little" (she's 6 feet tall) sister got engaged yesterday. Yay! We're all thrilled for her and her engineer. Like Mr. Trillwing and I, they got engaged in downtown Hometown. We were engaged in a skyline restaurant; her engineer popped the question atop a Ferris wheel. I think it's a sign that things will go well for them.

She told me this joke the other day (it's a jibe at her ex):

Q: An engineer and an artist are in a restaurant. What does the artist say to the engineer?
A: "Would you like fries with that?"

Here's to happier times ahead, Sis.