Is this thing on?

I got two drive-by pregnancy announcements in the past month, and even though we're not in the trenches of trying or anything (which is a topic for another day) I felt blindsided. After all this time, I guess the pang of jealousy over seemingly easy conceptions and neatly spaced children hasn't gone away. Though apparently, J's tact about such things has -- he relayed one piece of news without any preamble in the midst of the evening getting-home-from-school chaos and I had to excuse myself to the other room to just process it alone for a minute. And then I just felt lonely, since I couldn't run to my computer and blog it all out and hear a chorus of support, and then I thought "hey, why not?" So here I am. Though I expect there's not much chorus to speak of anymore. And I have no idea what I'm doing here anymore, or where this will go. But here I am, for now, anyway. Ambivalent much?

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And because it feels wrong not to play catch up a bit:

M&B are 3. (Three and a quarter if they were older and counted in quarters, but M is in the phase of shyly holding up 3 fingers when asked her age so we'll go with that.) They are rambunctious and feisty and sweet and fabulous and fascinating. A couple of months ago, one of the kids got a fortune from a very wise cookie that said "You are a bundle of energy, always on the go" which is perhaps the most spot on fortune I've ever seen. They also snuggle and cuddle and generally melt my heart in the very best ways.

J is deep into the career shift process, which means he's gone back to school and might at some point try for an entry level position in his new field of choice. Hopefully soon. Which is wonderful, of course, but also tense and tenuous. I'm a planner, and this level of unknown makes me anxious on so many levels.

Plus, I am back from the land of the employed to the land of the (theoretically) dissertating, though so far I've been spending time organizing my household chaos, and lounging about, and feeling generally unproductive.

And those are just the highlights. Wasn't that fun?

Be warned, students!

I just came across this on a syllabus for an undergraduate class. Freaking awesome.

I will prepare a challenging pop quiz for every single lecture of the fall quarter. Incorrect responses to these quizzes will deduct points from your overall course grade. I will only administer the quiz, however, if a cell phone, Blackberry, laptop, or any other electronic device rings, vibrates, or otherwise disturbs the class during lecture. This caveat also holds true for those of you with uncontrollable email, text messaging, and FaceBook addictions. If you and your classmates cannot discipline your use of electronic peripherals for less than three hours a week, then you should be prepared to take pop quizzes on a regular basis.

Identity Crisis

M and B will turn 1 next week. But this isn’t a birthday post. At least, not really. Not yet.

M & B will turn one, and I will start the countdown to the end of my official leave of absence from my life as Grad Student. I don’t talk about that part of my life here much, partially because I can’t talk about my specific research without risk of outing myself, and partially because for a long time, I’ve been ambivalent about being in grad school. Since the first year, actually. And I’m now in my 6th year. (It’s a PhD program. In the social sciences. Normative time in my program is 7 years. It’s not unheard of for people to take longer.) For those of you that know something about the world, here’s where I am: I’m ABD. For those that don’t, that basically means that I’m done taking classes and jumping through hoops in terms of exams, and all I have left (all I have, as if it’s so little) is to write my dissertation. I defended my dissertation prospectus (and you don’t just present, you DEFEND) when I was 9 weeks pregnant and feeling queasy - physically and emotionally. And I’ve done virtually no work on the project since then. I kept busy for a while, and the time after the initial defense is always a bit of a downtime, and then I went on bedrest, and then I delivered, and, well, you sort of know what I’ve been up to since then. I’m entitled to 3 quarters of leave. Unpaid leave, mind you. This is not the cushy land of generous maternity leave plans and universal health care. (Actually, going on leave meant that I lost my university health care, so it’s a good thing that I’m also covered on J’s plan, even if it is with the EvilHMO.)

Anyway. I took a leave of absence and threw myself into parenthood. I didn’t see any other way. Initially, I thought I’d take just part of the year as a leave, then return to school somewhat part-time to get my head back in the game. Except the babies wouldn’t take bottles. And childcare is expensive, and it’s not like I make any money as a grad student. And I didn’t really want to leave. And I didn’t really want to be back in school. So I’ve been home.

I never really envisioned myself as a full-time SAHM. I planned to be home much of the time, but somehow I thought I’d also be working (or, for now, in school) part-time. It seemed so ideal to be in school, actually, because I have a flexible schedule and can do my work in the morning, at night, on weekends, at home, on campus, at a coffee shop, wherever. In theory. Only I can’t. I can’t get anything done at home. Even when we had a sitter coming a few times a week (she’s on summer vacation, sob), that precious time was spent showering, or going grocery shopping alone, or at a doctor’s appointment. I didn’t have enough time or focus to do MORE.

Here’s the thing. I don’t particularly miss my research. I’ve been ambivalent about this program, and my schooling in general, for a long time. I’m not one of those people that just LOVES the thinking and theorizing and jargoning. I’ve stuck with it for varying reasons: I couldn’t judge the program based on the structured first-year curriculum; I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do instead; we moved for me to go to school, so how could I stop; I don’t want people to think I’m a quitter; and now, because I’ve invested so much time in it that it seems silly/lame/pathetic to just quit.

Mostly it’s just that last one, now. Most days I’m sure I don’t want to go into academia, professionally, and this isn’t a field where there are lots of industry jobs just waiting for me. So the degree is somewhat unnecessary. (Though for the kinds of jobs I might someday want, it might lend me a touch of credibility.) I’m no longer excited about my research topic (if I ever really was). The worst part right now is the feeling of limbo, which translates into guilt. If I’m reading blogs, I’m not keeping up with the journals or other academic discussions. If I’m home with the babies, I’m not taking part in colloquia. If I’m keeping the kids happy and healthy and the house running as well as can be expected (if not smoothly, than at least functionally), I’m not doing much else. I can’t. There just isn’t enough of me.

And so it goes. My leave of absence is coming to a close and I have to make this decision, and then stick with it. Come September, will I throw at least a portion of my brain power back into the academic arena, buck up and get to work, or will I say “to hell with this” and move on? I just don’t know.

I’m not sure I’ve even laid out the problem here, but it’ll have to do for now, since I have laundry to move to the dryer and dishes to wash.

Measures of Success/The Road Not Taken

I went to high school with a girl (call her E) at a school known not so much for its academics as its artsy focus. She and I were the only two students taking a specific advanced class, and we were friendly, but not the kind of friends you keep in touch with after school. I’ve Googled her before, so I had a sense of what she’s been up to, but something triggered the search again the other day, and I scoped out her latest - after spending two years on the faculty of Well-Known Midcountry School, she’s now on the faculty at Very Prestigous New England University. She’s my age and she’s already been working as a tenure-track professor for three years. I’m on leave from a program I can only hope to finish in another two or three (or five) years.

It’s not the path I want to take anymore, nor was it ever really my path, but even so, it’s hard not to compare. She’s completed her graduate training at a top-notch school, married a colleague, and been hired into not one but two Name Brand Schools. She’s also a rocket scientist/brain surgeon, speaks 20 languages, and can recite the alphabet backwards

while dancing
in high heels
on a tightrope
over a pit of alligators
who are hungry.

Last week I was a human tissue. Today I was a jungle gym.

I’m not saying she has the better deal, not at all. I’m where I am because this is what I wanted, this is where I put my time, energy and resources, and this is my payoff. And it’s a big payoff. But still, it’s hard to avoid the moment of comparison, the brief imagined trip down another path. What would my life look like if I’d chosen a path sooner, focused on my research, published and presented?