Writing Maternity

Status Update

In 6 days, M. l'Oignon, Squiss, Tricksy, and I will leave for three weeks in Europe.  We'll start out with a week in the south of France with les grands-parents l'Oignon, and we'll then head up to Paris for a week with la famille fantastique, good friends from M. l'O's graduate school days.  (Les garcons fantastiques are known in our house as The Boys Who Only Speak French, so that Squiss is braced for trying to play with kids who, well, don't speak English.  It's been a fairly successful incentive scheme, actually.)  We'll then conclude with a week that is really more about work than about play, but which I'm secretly sort of looking forward to the most: a week in London, covering 2 days of Trustees' meetings and other work-related events for M. l'O and 4 days in the British Library for me.

(We've done a good bit of research on kid-friendly activities in both Paris and London -- and Squiss is so excited about it all that she can rattle off the full list from her perspective to anyone who asks -- but we're wide open to suggestions, as well.  Especially if there are secret pockets of things that would be good for or with a two-year-old.)

I haven't been to Europe since Squiss was 1.  I haven't been to London -- really, my favorite city ever -- since 2002.  It's going to be really good.

But first I have to get there.  Hence, the countdown.  I have slightly over a day-and-a-half until the Faculty Development Extravaganza begins, and we leave on our travels two days after it's over.  So, it's time to spend 15 minutes I don't really have making lists:

Travel-to-do

• all four passports and other travel documents up-to-date and in known locations
• new-for-the-plane-ride books, toys, and DVDs purchased * packed
• final laundry
• packing: planned * started * done (M. l'O and I spent a good, productive half-hour making the list to end all lists last night)
• materials to get a new reader's card for the BL: located & packed
• pre-research trip prep: started * completed
• other work materials (I'm only taking two books, I swear!): decided-upon * packed
• friend to take over weekly CSA boxes
• friend to water baby trees & bring in any packages
• stop mail

Work-to-do

• finalize and prep for 11 5 2! faculty development workshop sessions (I'm sorry, I can't break that down any more; it's too depressing)*
  • I'm now in the final rehearsal stage; the big show starts tomorrow!  sigh.
  • the first day went well -- and now I'm almost halfway done.
• lead a 20-minute workshop on writing for a terribly-named "Developing Student Skills" session for the New Faculty Workshop

* I've typically described doing this workshop to other faculty as the equivalent of preparing for and then teaching half a semester's worth of a course in 2.5 days.  Whenever I actually pause and look at the numbers, that feeling is reinforced.  On the up side, this Extravaganza is my biggest and most important bully pulpit of the year; and when it goes well, it's a pretty great high.  I can remember thinking at about this point last year that I'd have to be sure that take sabbatical in the spring, so that I could get a break from this particular tyranny.  But about halfway through the actual *doing* of the workshop last year, I realized that I couldn't possibly let the opportunity go by.  When else do I get roughly 25 faculty of all ranks and from across the college in a single room to talk about teaching and writing for several days in a row?

blech

I've been reading essays for departmental prizes all week, and am about to turn to the theses under consideration for our thesis prize.  And I have to say that I *hate* reading student writing under these circumstances.  It's the worst end of grading: purely evaluative (and without the ability to make fine distinctions), with no possibility of substantive feedback.

I will say, though, that I'm generally more impressed with the quality of the papers submitted by frosh and sophs than by juniors and seniors.  While the latter are more ambitious in some very good and impressive ways, they're also more colonized by the worst qualities of academic writing: nominalizations, abstract grammatical subjects, inflated diction, etc.  These are essays from across the college, not just from my own department.  What are we teaching them?

changes and, well, just plain work

It seems I'm going to have to call him Reg now, given that he's blogging and all himself ... Or perhaps just M. l'Oignon.

As of this moment, I've hosted a candidate on campus for a full day, interviewed 14 applicants for writing center tutor positions, commented on a draft of the report from the Big Scary Thing, attended at least two workshops or lectures, and applied for a passport for Tricksy.  This week.

By this time next week, I will have hosted two more candidates (Tuesday & Thursday), made decisions about next year's writing center tutors, attended a lunch for the parents of admitted students, reviewed 17 applications for new course development grants, taken Squiss to the dentist, attended at least one more workshop, and (oh, by the way) made a recommendation to the department about which theses should win our prizes.

Meantime, I'm waiting to hear from the various committees that need to weigh in on the conversion of my position to a tenure-line, my mother will visit, and M. l'Oignon and I will plan the seder and get ready to host four adults and twin two-year-olds for that weekend.  And by the time that's over, we'll have launched into the end-of-the-semester social and other whirl.

rbo wednesday

• I've read and responded two four of the nine thesis drafts.  They're all coming in at 70+ pages, so this is not small.  The bad news is that I really have to finish them by the end of the day on Friday, and I have four hours of meetings tomorrow.
• I've made three people quite happy by calling to tell them that they're finalists for a good job.  It's nice to be on this side of the academic job market.
• I've just sent out 52 (yep) invitations to students to apply to work as Writing Center tutors.  Surprisingly enough, precisely 50% are male and 50% are female. I'm curious to see what the return rate by gender is.  Bet it ain't 50/50.
• Tricksy has what might be her first serious verb ("come!") and what I'm quite certain is her first three-word phrase ("I got it!" or, in Tricksese, "Igollih," with the "l" well-swallowed and preferably said multiple times in conjunction, thus: igollihigollihigollihIGOLLIH!)  (Parents sometimes take a while to clue in.)

And, with that, it's time for bed.

wavering

So I got tapped last fall to participate in a Big Scary Thing.  Being tapped was both an honor and a pain in the neck (as honors that bring more work so often are), and I'm now in the midst of it.  One minute I feel completely in over my head and the next I feel perfectly competent and okay, if aware of the fact that I'm the youngest person participating in the Big Scary Thing by about 20 years.

The thing is, I was asked to participate because of writing program stuff, and when I'm just called upon to opine about that, it's all good.  It's when I'm asked to opine about some of the other stuff involved that I get all squirrelly and feel as though my comparative youth and inexperience broadcast themselves all over the country.

Worst thing is, while we're working on/participating in Big Scary Thing, we spend all day in meetings and then need to write Major Important Reports in the evenings.  Which means no one orders wine with dinner!

make your sacrifices

So, earlier today meg and I decided that we needed to figure out which Greek deity was in charge of things technological, because clearly it was time to start sacrificing incredibly huge herdbeasts of various kinds.  G and discussed the matter briefly over dinner, before referring it to the in-house expert.

Squiss considered the question carefully.  She then immediately pointed out that, when she thinks of Hera and Persephone, she thinks of them as *queens* of things, not *gods.*  (Of the gods of Olympus and the Underworld, respectively.)  So her first instinct was to think that one of them should be the god(dess) of computers and technology.  Reasoning further, she decided that Hera should be goddess of fairy princesses: because they have powers, and Hera likes power.  (That's what she offers to Paris, after all.)

That left Persephone as the goddess of computers and technology, and queen of the underworld.  She then went over to the fireplace ("where we sing Christmas carols") to say her prayer to Persephone to please keep all the family computers safe and working.  She reported that Persephone heard her, since gods and goddesses can hear you, even if you whisper, and even if you're very far away from Greece or Olympus.

G and I had been more inclined toward Hermes than Persephone, in our own meditations on the subject.  The trickster god, the god of thieves and travelers -- a crosser of boundaries, writ large -- strikes me as a good fit in this day and age.  But I'm more than happy to make my obeisances to both.  Persephone is a more generous and merciful personality than Hermes, and so I like having her there to temper his sense of humor.

(On that note, I'm currently writing this from my fully functioning laptop, connected to the home wifi.  The highlight of the entire 6 hours I've spent with various tech support people at Apple and Verizon in the last two days was, without question, the moment when today's second Apple tech started to direct me to find System Preferences.  Then he interrupted himself: "but I bet you know where that is, don't you?")

(Thank you, oh generous and merciful ones.)

okay, I did it!

I just finished the last administrative work project that temporarily fallen off my desk as a result of the burglary.  This means, I think, that I can actually climb back on the writing wagon, and remind myself of the articles and other projects I'd been planning to do this spring.

I have a feeling that this moment is only going to last about three second, because there's another big administrative work project looming.  But I don't think that I actually need to start fretting (much less working) on that one until next week, which gives two half days (if I'm honest) to write and contemplate writing.

And that, my friends, feels like a veritable ocean of time.

working motherhood

Aspazia has a characteristically thoughtful post today about motherhood and working-outside-the-home motherhood, specifically.  Since we have two finalists coming in this week, I doubt that I'll have time to respond as fully as I'd like, but this jibes with a thought that I've been formulating over the course of the last week or so.

I ran into a colleague (whom I like, but who is not a close friend) the other day and she stopped me to say, essentially and almost literally, "How do you do it?"  That's a question I've gotten versions of several times over the course of the last couple of years, and I never know how to respond.  Sometimes it comes from people about to have children, and other times it comes from people who are childless (or even partnerless).  (Generally women in the latter case, but not in the former.)  The short answer is, of course, that you just do; the longer answer is ultimately so individual and idiosyncratic that it won't do anyone else any good.

I barely had maternity leave when Squiss was born, so I never had the luxury of only being a mother.  Integration had to happen right away because classes started three weeks after she was born.  Perhaps for that reason -- but not only for that reason -- I've never been fully comfortable with formulations that pit my professional work "against" my family or children.  Which is more important?  How can I answer that question?  If Squiss or Tricksy gets sick, I tie things up quickly and dash off to pick them up.  (Or G does.)  We take time off work.  We care for them.  But if (as tonight) there's a talk and a dinner I need/want to go to, I go.  I often wish my work were less demanding of my time, so that I could leave at 3:00 every day and have more time with my kids.  I often, also, find my kids exhausting and look forward to the moment when we'll put them to bed, so that we can hang out with one another as "grown-ups."  It isn't all work and kids, after all. 

I'm not saying this clearly, so I'll try again.  For me, mother and teacher-scholar-administrator are so intertwined in who I am that I can't imagine choosing.  Not only can I not imagine choosing, I can't really imagine the situation that would require me to choose: I can't imagine an hour-and-a-half or a single day that would make or break either endeavor.  My children have thrived in daycare; both are creative, independent, deeply affectionate beings.  And I am better for having a more public outlet, for having extended conversations (in writing and speech) with colleagues and students about things other than kindergarten and tantrums and so on.  I am (even) a better mother for that outlet: it gives me balance and perspective, it gives me greater patience with my daughters, and so on.

This imbrication is perhaps why my mental image is one of balance rather than juggling.  There aren't really any balls that I can drop, because everything is ultimately attached.

update

I didn't get the grant, but that's actually feeling okay (in part because I have another one out for the same project, so there's no need to get depressed about it yet), and I just completed a project that was looming over me all week.  It's amazing how writing tasks that are new and alien (and/or have higher-stakes/different audience than those I'm used to) scare the crap out of me, still.  It's good to have the reminder periodically, since that *has* to be much of what it feels like to be a college freshman.

The thing that essentially didn't happen this weekend, that I'd hoped would, was getting back into  writing and exercising grooves.  I'm hoping that I can chip away at both next week, although with two candidates coming to campus, that seems a trifle unlikely.  We'll see.  If I can just reclaim my office after this week's whirlwind, that will be no small achievement.  That, and set some writing goals for the next six months. 

a sign that I haven't wrapped my mind around the semester yet

I left the power cable for my laptop at home this morning and had to run back and get it.