First week in, 2010

If I'd had any sense at all I would have taken a day off this week. Two weeks off work and then a full week back is well night on exhausting. Especially when my rapidly stretching self is just not used to sitting for long periods of time in an office chair. This evening, I have the uncomfortable sensation that the skin underneath my ribs is stretching which -- duh! -- it is, but the knowledge of the stretching is almost as uncomfortable as the stretching itself.

I remember this from last time, just as I remember the discomfort of same, the constant congestion, the stiffness / waddliness of sitting long periods, and the need to heave my larger self up from the floor or whatever other surface of things I happen to be on -- car seats, sofas, beds, toilets, etc. Not to mention the pokiness of a child flailing around in my lower abdomen, startling me with unexpected jabs to my bladder and causing me to suddenly realize with an urgency that I need to visit the bathroom, and then just as suddenly realize it's not true, it was just a foot poking at me. It's the sort of thing you kind of forget in a way, but which rushes back with alarming familiarity.

I spent part of work today planning out my vacation days for this year and for the following year's return to work; I have 32 days to spend this year, and although the fantasy of my using every single last one starting around the beginning of March, I am alas aware of the fact that I need to save at least some for the very likely possibility that my child won't get daycare for when I need to return to work. However, I did plan out two weeks at the end of April to sit about in my full term discomfort, and for mat leave to start May 1, for a due date five days later. And I'd just like to let you know that I now have 71 days of work left.

You'll know it's getting bad when I start counting down the hours.

Academe

Some many years ago, as I sat and contemplated my future prospects, I emailed my undergraduate supervisor, and asked him bluntly -- if I pursue a doctorate in this area, will I find a job in Canada?

He answered: no.

He was kinder to me, I think, than many, at least according to this article, which suggests that many academics tell hopeful students that there is much hope for work, that retirements will ensure a steady need for humanities professors. And that fewer than 50% of them now find work, given retirement jobs are not filled, hiring freezes are in place, etc. A cousin of mine is in this situation -- he has worked as an adjunct for many years now, moving from town to town. It doesn't sound like fun.

Oh, I think still that perhaps had I changed my area I might have found work; I know others who have. But I didn't think at the time that spending four or five years in something I wasn't extremely passionate about -- not to mention teaching it for the rest of my life -- was worthwhile. If I was going to dedicate my life to something, it had to be something I loved.

Of course, I've currently dedicated my life to something else that I'm not sure I love, so there is that drawback. I mean, I love writing, so I guess in a way I'm dedicated to a love, but what I'm writing is generally not an area about which I would wax poetic.

I think my cousin would argue that it's worthwhile to be doing something you love. And frankly part of me agrees with him. At least the part of me that looked at my to-do list today and sighed.

I still plan to do it, someday. I plan to go back and get that doctorate I wanted. I can do it after retirement. For me, it's like that novel I want to write: it's something I want to do for me. It's something that it doesn't matter when it gets done, or even if it gets done if something else I'm passionate about -- raising children, perhaps, or a new career turn -- takes precedence.

Still. No matter what, there's part of me that wishes for the alternate life I could have lived, and wonders just where I would be now had I not heeded his advice, and just taken a chance.

Confession

I am totally embarrassed to admit that today, for the first time (that I remember) in 35 years, I bought shoes that are neither brown nor black. For the longest while I was too poor (university, grad school, first job) to buy anything that wasn't wearable with everything; and then soon after I had enough money to be more adventurous I had a baby and it just seemed frivolous again. But I got a raise late December, and dangnabit I went and bought shoes that are red. RED. I love them. I will wear them every day.

You know, except for those days I don't have an outfit that will go with red shoes.

If this coming baby is a daughter, I will encourage her to always own at least one pair of shoes that are fun only, and not practical. Something red, or pink, or bright blue.

Although to be fair, I will probably, being me, also encourage her to be practical, and make sure she has a pair in black that go with everything.

15 weeks

No, that's not how pregnant I am. That's how many more weeks of work I have from when I go back tomorrow until I am off to have a baby. That's .... that's not much. Especially since two of those weeks at least will be mostly off working at home during the Crazy Times (aka the Olympics). Thirteen weeks of being at work! My heavens!

I haven't been writing much on the baby, mostly because ... well, there's not much to say. The baby moves, I enjoy it. I'm getting bigger, although it seems imperceptible to me. (I don't feel any bigger than I did at seven weeks, but clearly I must be.) The baby is about 11 inches long, but I feel tiny to have such a big thing in me.

At the moment we're still on sporadic midwife visits (which I think get more frequent after this next one) and it's a bit like we're all biding our time waiting for the kid to just grow. I'm about five months (in months) or five and a half (if you want to measure weeks) right now -- just before Christmas was about half way. At this point it's all about growth and more growth and ... well, that's about it.

This baby is more docile than the last -- not much squirming at all. The Boy was a big squirmer, always moving, and this one can lie still for hours which always makes me wonder what the heck is going on. I have this image in my head of it kicking back on the placenta, remote control in hand. (My imagination does not actually notice if there's a TV in there.) And then there'll be a flurry of movement as s/he gets up for a drink and settles back down comfortably. Heh.

I'm still tired, but more energetic than I have been. I fell asleep on the couch at 2 today. but only dozed for half an hour or so, at most.

And now I'm going to see if I have enough energy to get to the maternity store to see if they have a dress that will fit me. Because I could use something pretty to wear (not to mention something comfortable!) for the next four months.

And shoes too. Because at least I can buy shoes that fit.

Today's gluten-free baking

Today I made chocolate chocolate chip cookies. Big ones, although I hadn't meant them to be so -- they spread more than I anticipated. They are mostly sweet rice flour, with some teff, millet, and tapioca thrown in for good measure. Sorry, no picture, but while I was doing this I was also trying to clean out a bunch of kitchen cupboards and get some laundry done, so I am sitting on the couch EX-HOSS-TED. And letting the baby kick for a bit. Or at least hoping s/he will.

(We went out for dinner New Year's Eve and as I exited the restaurant I went *ss over teakettle down onto my side on a slippery patch of tile -- it was raining outside. This prompted some calls to the midwife, who calmly replied the usual -- make sure the baby is moving, call me if there's any blood or fluid that shouldn't be coming out of you. And then also, in her typical midwifery way, did note that were there an actual problem "there really isn't much that can be done." Which is not terribly comforting, but at least doesn't give one the idea that one can solve the problem by being paranoidly suspicious over every little thing, and in a strange way is more relaxing than trying to notice every single tiny thing.)

(So I'm resting, is all I meant to say. And feeling for baby kicks. Which are coming, by the way, despite the fact that this child seems to be much more docile that his / her brother.)

I'm so off topic.

Anyway, the cookies. Well, they have dairy in them, so The Man won't eat them. And The Boy has declared them "too sweet" which kills me, because I have the most amazing sweet tooth and every time he says something like this I want to ask him exactly whose child he is? (The Man's, who also doesn't like overly sweet things.) So now I have about two dozen gluten-free chocolate cookies to eat all by myself.

Don't feel sorry for me. I think I'm going to enjoy it.

Yet another thing my kid won't experience

My kid is very fond of the Christmas special "How the Grinch Stole Christmas". We have it on video, and I've lost track of how many times we've watched it over the last two or three weeks. He especially seems to love the parts where the Grinch steals the toys and Christmas things from the Whos, commenting with gasps of horror each time, and reminding me that it's a good thing the Grinch didn't come to OUR house.

There's a particular scene where the Grinch takes candies and ice and food, and he also opens an old camera and takes the film. With each new theft, my child gasps. "He's taking the candy!" "He's taking the ice!" "He's taking the roast beast!"

And: "He's taking the RIBBON!"

We laughed, and explained that no, it was film, not ribbon, but we had no luck in convincing him. We had no frame of reference to explain it to him. We don't use film at all anymore. He's never experienced anything like it. He will grow up in a world without film, only ever knowing cameras where you can see each picture after seeing it.

What a concept.

New Year's Day

This morning began at 3:30am. My child was awake, furiously shrieking that his diaper had leaked. As I stumbled about looking for a replacement, I mumbled "Welcome to 2010" to myself.

He was up, up and awake and raring to go, and it was another 1.5 hours before he finally fell back to sleep; I lasted 1.25 of those hours before getting fed up and leaving him to his father. I went back to bed, and slept another two hours before being woken by my son's hysterical wailing -- he'd woken up, wanted me, and then when his father, very kindly, had tried to give me more time to sleep, he'd awoken the three year old beast. Once we finally quelled the tantrum, he climbed into bed with me, his father in the child's bed, and we all went back to sleep for another two hours.

Alas this was of course the only morning this week that we actually had to be somewhere -- my sister's, for 11am new year's family brunch. For which we were supposed to bring baking. We were, by some miracle, only half an hour late.

So it was hardly an auspicious beginning to the new year.

But we're home now, and the fire is going, and we're still enjoying the Christmas tree we plan to take down later this weekend. The Boy is still with the cousins, coming home later, and dinner is being prepared. Something yummy, to ring in the new year. So I'm going to scrap this morning's darkness and just pretend that this was the way we spent the whole day -- happy, playing, and relaxed.

Hope your first day of 2010 went as well as mine (kind of) did!