The gods must be crazy

It's not often that comment spam makes me laugh out loud (nor do I usually read it) but in skimming my most recent (now deleted) spam, I uncovered the following gems:

Your infertility was favor, for the gods were granting you more time in hope you could get out "before" this obligation forced you to stay. The Italians bred like rabbits:::That they got "pregnant immediately" illustrated their undesirability.

And this:

If you lived in a communisitic state your 10 year old son wouldn't be able to see pornographic images on the internet. The government would have filters in place to protect the people from this damaging behavior.

And of course, this:

The gods are asexual. They have no sex organs nor rectums.

There was also a whole section about how McCain would have had an easier time winning against Hillary than "Osama" (yes, Osama).

Usually, my comment spam tries to function as advertising or linkbacks of some kind, but this? This seems like the stream of consciousness ravings of someone in an altered mental state. And what I really want to know is, how did they end up on my blog? Was it my fervently stated belief that I want my 10 year old son to be able to see pornography? It is a free country, after all.

Comments and community

Thalia's recent post about keeping up with blogs has me thinking, so rather than hijack her comments, I thought I'd move this here.

I've been reading without commenting for months now, because it's all I can do to keep up through Bloglines (and even then, I have over 500 unread posts in my queue right now - though some are from review sites and the like), but it takes more time and energy and focus than I usually feel I can muster to actually click through and come up with something useful to say in response. And then I think how that makes blogs one directional, and how one of the things I value about the blogworld is the conversation and support and communication... which is to say I think I need to break out of my bubble and get back to commenting rather than lurking. By the same token, I've slowly been unsubbing from some of the (bigger) blogs where I never really felt like part of a community so much as a flock - where I never really commented much anyway. (And by *some* blogs I mean one or two so far - it's hard to stop following someone's story.)

I haven't been posting either, obviously. We've had a whole confluence of circumstances combined with what is probably a bit of low-level depression and a ton of projects and huge life changes and I've barely managed to keep my head above water. But I'm hoping the tide is changing, and one of the things I really WANT to do is get back to blogging and participating in a bit of a blogging community - for fun and for sanity. I make no sweeping claims, since I hate setting myself up like that (see how well I did with the Moxie challenge?) but for myself, I think I'm going to try. It might mean reinventing my blog identity, or changing how I think about blogging, or commenting, or something. It's a process, and I'm only beginning.

Take yourself seriously

Moxie is running a 60-day Take Yourself Seriously Challenge, and I'm trying my best to join. The premise is to choose three things you want to work on and commit to them for 60 days. I didn't read all of the comments, but it looked like a lot of people were (1) reducing their intake of high fructose corn syrup, (2) drinking more water, and (3) trying to have more sex. Yes, really. I'm sure J would like it if I added that last one to the list, but for now it's a much lower priority. Although, what does that say about the state of our marriage? I'll have to think about that. Anyway...

There are so many things I think I want to tackle, and then I get overwhelmed at the enormity of it all and accomplish nothing. So I'm trying to make these goals do-able to have a taste of success (I hope) and then add in additional goals in the NEXT 60 days (or whenever).

1. Start T-Tapp and do it regularly. I think that means a 4 day bootcamp and then every other day, but since I haven't started yet I'm not sure what schedule will end up working. But STARTING is the big thing.

2. Be more present with my kids more often. It's so easy for me to get caught up on the computer and just watch over them, rather than sitting down and being fully present. They're at a fabulous age and I don't want to miss it.

3. Get to bed earlier. Work on this bit by bit - I don't think we'll be able to change the habits we've slipped into overnight (ha ha), but bit by bit, work back to getting to bed by 10:30.

For future (so I don't forget):
- more veggies. Husband and kids are not so keen on them, so it's easy to let it slip by.
- focus on dissertation writing. Advisor is somewhat too relaxed, so motivation must all come from self. Motivation seems to have disappeared with arrival (19 months ago) of babies.
- reclaim my office. Which might help with the dissertation writing.
- get off the computer. Hey, wait, I think I'll try that now.

I feel kinda dumb now

I can't believe I'm admitting this so publicly, but here it is.

In my defense, I did pass the AP Biology exam in high school. And Calculus. Which might be the last time I studied math or science, since having passed the exams exempted me from any such classes in college.

But what am I going to do when my kids start taking science classes? Sure, J is probably better at these subjects than I am, but still. I really don't want to be the dumb parent.

Hip(py) enough?

I tried to join the local Natural Families yahoo group/email list (membership is pending “approval”) and all I could think about was Stacie’s post about proving your credentials. I had to submit an introduction to the moderator, and I couldn’t tell for sure but felt like what I needed to do was prove that I was AP/granola/crunchy/alterna enough to join the group. I mentioned our cloth diapering, cosleeping, and breastfeeding, because I felt like I should, but really, those things have very little to do with our parenting philosophy. The CDing is a cost and environment thing, mostly. We’re currently cosleeping out of convenience (we started on a trip - the kids didn’t much like the hotel cribs so both eventually ended up in bed with us and it was pretty cozy - and they’ve been sick so we’ve just found it easier) and while I haven’t tried to stop BFing, neither have I tried to continue. Mostly it’s just laziness - the kids like it so much that I can’t see what it would take to stop right now. Point being, it all feels pretty circumstantial. And yet, I felt like I had to trot out my AP credentials to get in the door. What I’m hoping to get out of the group, besides the possibility of meeting other families, are things like recommendations for local services (a homeopath, maybe?) -- which seems more intentional than the others, but wasn’t what I felt I was supposed to say.

Whose children are these?

On the one hand, I'm not sure they're mine.

Point 1: Based on their 18 month measurements and this height predictor (via Stacie), B-Boy is going to be 6'2" tall, and Miss M will be 5'6". I am 5'1" (on a good day). J is 5'9ish. J said, I am trying to picture him standing eye to eye with me and all I could do was crane my neck (and cry a little at even the thought of my baby boy being a grown man someday).

Point 2: Miss M learned a new word today. Broom she said, after I swept up a bit of a mess in the backyard. And then made me sweep some more. Yes, it appears that my kids are into cleaning. MissM also likes to wipe and sponge. And yes, I know that's developmentally good, and all that, but it's not like I generally model cleaning for them. Ha. As if.

On the other hand, well, of course they're mine. And how.

Point 3: Miss M seemed fascinated as she watched me flip my head over to put mousse in my (curly) hair this morning. So I put a dab in her hair, too, and her curls lasted longer than usual. I'm sure there's some reason I shouldn't put product in her hair though, right?

Point 4: B-Boy is now the less-than-thrilled owner of his very own nebulizer. Poor boy seems to have inherited my lungs. Both kids have had a cold, and when we were in for their 18 month "well child" visit yesterday our pediatrician confirmed that he's wheezing and put him on meds. Which would help more if I could get them into him. How do you get an 18 month old to sit relatively still through a nebulizer treatment? It's not like it's fast. The pediatrician suggested that we do the treatments in front of the TV (yes, we have doctor's orders to put our under-2-year-old in front of the TV!) but it's not really helping. The machine is LOUD, and TV is only a minor distraction. So, any ideas? We'll probably only have a couple more treatments for now, but I expect we'll need them almost every time he gets a cold - that's generally my pattern, too.

Progress on the self-front (pathetic navel-gazing below)

I got my hair cut and colored. Make it funky, I told the stylist. I feel frumpy. So far so good, though I have yet to really test the wash and wear-ability, and since that’s what I have time for most days, that’s the ultimate test. But the color is purrrty. And the time spent reading People magazine at the salon was decadent, too.

Not so sure about clothing or body changes, yet. I have the T-Tapp book, but am waiting on the video because the descriptions are so complex I can’t get through the workout. I’m trying not to be daunted by this. Clothing-wise, I went and bought a new pair of jeans, since my one remaining pair that fits now sports a very trashy rip in the crotch. So sexy. So put together. So not. The new jeans were not the size I’d hoped, but it seemed worth the temporary investment in clothing that fit. Except that the first time I wore them they stretched out so far that they were falling down. Which should have made me feel thinner, but mostly just made me feel like buying cheap jeans was a big waste of time. So I’m back to having no jeans that fit. Speaking of which, in response to the comments on the last such navel-gazing post, I’d love to wear some of my formerly cute clothes except that (a) I wasn’t all that cute or trendy before, either, and (b) they don’t really fit. The “THIS is what a feminist looks like” shirt, for example, was skin tight 4 years ago, and if I knew where it was I still couldn’t wear it. Sad, no?

The kids are sick again. So am I. Just what we needed on a rainy week. My MIL seems to think that if we were sleeping better we wouldn’t be getting sick. I had to bite my tongue a little bit to keep from snapping at her. She means well, but really her commentary on our sleeping situation is not remotely needed. And actually, in the brief lull between the last cold and this one, I thought our sleep was working pretty well. M made it all night, or almost all night, in her crib - coming to bed with us at 5 or 6 am to nurse. B was waking between 11 and 2, coming to bed, nursing, and then sleeping peacefully. It was only a struggle when they were both in bed, struggling for the apparently prime real estate near my right armpit. Or, in M’s case some of the time, staying latched for hours. Ow. But otherwise, our sleep was fine. Really. Bizarrely, even in the midst of this nasty bug, we’re sleeping relatively okay. Bringing them to bed means I get more rest than I would if I was trying to get them settled in their cribs a million times. Not right for everyone, but for now it’s working.

I have no idea where they got this latest cold. I would have blamed the very cute but totally germ-ridden kids play area at the local coffee/play place (a very cool thing, germs notwithstanding) but the timing doesn’t seem right. They might have picked it up at the preschool we took them to visit last week (they played on the playground with the grandparents while we toured classrooms). Everyone knows preschools are hotbeds of infection. Right? So why am I thinking about putting them in school next year? More on that soon.

It’s taken me a week to write this, so clearly I need to devote a little bit more time to me, and to the cheap therapy of blogging. And I should just hit publish - editing be damned.

Things that make me go "awwwww"

M woke up from her nap today in a good mood. Sometimes she wakes up crying. Today she started talking: "Ma Ma Ma Ma" and when I went to get her, she said "Hi!"

---

We have regular nursing spots - in the nursery and in the living room. Today, when B wanted to nurse (less than an hour after the last time, and right as we were trying to get dinner on the table...) he pulled me over to the couch and pulled down the pillows I use to get comfy - one to sit on and one for my back. And then he patted the pillow, as if to say "sit here!"

Identity Crisis

Once upon a time, I had an identity other than mother. And it showed. Once upon a time, you could tell by looking at me, that I had opinions, that I was not “mainstream.” Once upon a time, I was funky, cool, interesting. And it showed.*

And now? I have a politically liberal bumpersticker on my suburban-mom-mobile. But otherwise? I look like a mom. Which is not to say that I’m not hugely tremendously earth shatteringly thrilled to be a mom. But. I am more than a mom.

I am working in a new neighborhood bakery/cafe. I am sitting near a guy wearing a political shirt, with a folder covered in stickers, and more on his computer. And I show no outward signs that I agree, that my politics align, that I am more like him than he probably suspects.

When I used to mentor the undergraduate feminist group at the university, they made T-shirts that said “THIS is what a feminist looks like” - and some of them wore them skin tight, cropped, over snug fitting low rise jeans. Broadcasting. Challenging.

I don’t know if what I’m wishing is to change how I look - I feel dowdy, and old, and while I love being a mom, I think maybe I wish I didn’t look like one all the time, even when I’m sitting in a coffeeshop working. I suppose I should instead think about how to challenge the notion that how people look has any bearing on who they are or how they think. That would be the noble thing, right?

But still. I think I need a funky makeover. I want to broadcast that I am a mom, and I am a feminist, and I am still funky inside.

How about you? Do you think your outisde reflects your inside? Am I being totally trivial? Is it lame that I’m asking questions here? Fess up.

* Okay, no, having red or purple hair or an eyebrow piercing does not inherently mean anything about one’s personality or politics. But still.

This thing we do, here

Mommyblogging, or whatever it is I do now, is hard. When I was writing about infertility, it seemed more like a story, with at least some semblance of a beginning, a middle, and an end. I didn't start writing until the middle, but I backed up to tell the beginning, and clearly I ended up with a happy ending. But writing about mothering, or within mothering, somehow seems harder. Maybe in the beginning of a story you don't yet recognize it as a story and so you can't really think about it as such until at least the middle, if not the end? Or maybe day to day life is a series of small stories, not a big one. Or maybe I'm so caught up in the tremendous importance of the story, and in feeling like I have the power to control it (as delusional as that may be) that I can't even start. Whatever it is, I've been blogging a lot less than I'd like. I feel like either I need to give it up or I need to give it more. So I'm going to try more.

I've also been teetering on the edge of a rather unpleasant fog of depression, which probably has something to do with my inability to focus, or to put words to paper (er, fingers to keyboard?). And at the moment, we're all sick, which doesn't help matters. But there's more to it than just that, I think. I'm just not sure what.

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Sweet moments of baby sickness:

Sadly, neither kid really knows how to blow their noses. (When do they learn that, anyway? It's tremendously useful.) But, after watching me snuffle and snort into tissues, B can now pretend to blow his nose - he'll hold the tissue to his nose, then make a snuffly nose-blowing sound with his mouth. Weird, but bizarrely cute.

PSA

I have it on good authority - mine - that if you’re looking for something high fiber, something that will go right through your kids, that brown rice is a good idea. If, on the other hand, you’re not....

Ah, the joys of cloth diapering.

The Best of Intentions

Remember way back at the beginning of the month, when I said I was going to post more? Yeah. About that. I planned to post again, and then I missed a day. What the heck, I thought, it's not like I'm doing NaBloBlaBla. And then I missed another day. And before I knew it I'd missed most of the month. Ah, well.

I have some posts in the works, including highlights from our recent cross-country trip to see the in-laws (and a certain fabulous blogfriend and her family), musings on airplane karma, recent thoughts on (my) kids and tv, and an update on my recent visit to the Clinic that Couldn't. But we're still jetlagged, so this is all I can muster for now.

The Good, The Bad, and yeah, that's Ugly

The Good: Both kiddos, but especially M, have started climbing into our laps to cuddle or read. It’s so cute it almost hurts.

The Bad: We all have a cold. And our sitter is out of town this week (on a cruise - the nerve!). And J’s had to work way more than usual - which is especially frustrating since we knew the sitter was going to be away, and so he was supposed to try to take some time off so I could get a break and, you know, do some actual work.

The Ugly: In the past few days, MissM has developed a new behavior. When she’s really upset, she cries until she’s coughing, then she sticks her fingers in her mouth, gags herself, and throws up. I don’t know about the first time, but at this point I’m pretty sure it’s intentional. It’s a hard thing to ignore - I don’t really want her to throw up, and once she does, I can’t really just leave her in her crib or wherever covered in vomit. It seems to happen most when she’s tired - she did it yesterday to protest being strapped into her carseat after a long morning visiting J at work (because I had a meeting I had to go to) and way past her nap. And not even five minutes later she was sound asleep. My quick googling found one source telling me it’s a developmental/behavioral thing and to ignore it, and another telling me it might be the sign of a serious medical problem. (Though that one seems to be more about vomiting after eating, and that’s not really what she’s doing.) Oh, what to think? And how long before I just call the pediatrician?

(I called a couple of days ago to get the ped’s advice about decongestants. Yes, I know they’ve been recalled, but so far as I can tell, it’s because people were misusing cold medicine - especially the multi-symptom kind - and misdosing. When the kiddos are super-stuffy at night, a dose of decongestant is sometimes the only thing that helps. I got a callback from a nurse instead, who gave me the official line about how they’re not recommending any cold medicine to kids under 2, and then helped me confirm the correct dosage. So there’s that.)

Cleanup

Surveying the mess on the floor under the highchairs, which is getting worse as the kiddos try spoon feeding themselves. Tonight they had "popeye pasta" (pasta in a creamy spinach sauce - I'm trying to work in the veggies more) which left a sticky green mess.

Me: I wish I had a little hand mop. There must be such a thing.
Him: It’s called a sponge, dear.

Like a Light (Switch)

They go from awake and babbling (or, um, crying) to asleep instantly. It really is like flipping a switch.

Of course, they also go the other way - from peacefully sleeping to loud wails - just as fast. And more and more often, lately.

Much miscellany

Maybe I can finally manage a post if I just use bullet points:

• These are not babies anymore - they’re toddlers. Walking, climbing, exploring. It’s great - and SO exhausting.
  
• They can find their belly buttons all the time, and mine too. And ears, and noses. And tongues, which is super cute.
  
• At 15 months I’m starting to buy 24mo clothes for B - mostly things like pajamas where they can be a bit long right now, but it’s not far off. And now I have to figure out where they’re going to sleep at Thanksgiving (at my in-laws), since I think he’ll have exceeded the weight limit on a pack and play by then!
  
• They are firmly in the pull-everything-off-the-shelves stage. And every day they can reach things I thought were safe, so constant vigilance is necessary.
  
• Our babysitter is back, and life on that front is so good. They love her. It’s a good thing I do too, or I’d be a bit jealous. She’s the star attraction.
  
• I’m back to some aspect of my feelings of parental inadequacy. In the early days, I couldn’t comprehend managing both babies alone so when anyone else did it made me feel that much less competent. Now I have trouble feeling comfortable taking both babies outside, for example, but the babysitter is fine with it.
  
• We’re taking a sort of mommy and me class at one of the local temples once a week. Not sure what I think of it so far - half the other moms in the class are moms from my playgroup, so I already know them and their idiosyncracies. But I guess it’s good to get out and do it.
  
• Another of the playgroup moms is pregnant - and the first is due pretty soon. And we recently got three more “second-baby” announcements from other friends. I’m sure I have more to say about that, at some point.
  
• I’m working part-time and trying to get my head back to my research so I can finish my degree. It’s been so long since I’ve worked that I might end up with an entirely new topic. Got any good ideas for a dissertation?
  
• Our local Moms of Twins club Fall/Halloween party is this weekend. Which is nice since most everything else has been cancelled this week. Have I mentioned that I live in San Diego? The kiddos will be dressing as train engineers (stripey overalls, red bandanas, hats - if they’ll keep them on). They wore them to a pumpkin patch already and terrorized the chickens and bunnies in the petting zoo.
  
• That was a longer list than I was expecting. I guess it’s been a while.
  

I’ve been working on this list for like a month now. I miss blogging. I read, and sometimes even comment, but it’s rather one sided. So I’m going to try. A bit. And hopefully more than just bullet points.I guess I just really needed to get caught up. I’ll try harder - less with the baby updates, maybe, since that gets out of date so quickly and then I just feel lame. I already can’t keep up with the baby books.

If I wait for perfection, I'll never post anything, ever.

Playtime

Of course I think my kids are extraordinary, but in general I know they're pretty typical. Which is good - developmentally they're pretty much right on track. Both are walking (M more smoothly than B, but she also had a couple of week's head start) and into everything. And temperamental - they want what they want, when they want it (now - always now). And playful, both with the nice toys that we and their grandparents have provided -- the wooden play cube is a big hit, as is the somewhat annoying electronic play table (thank you craigslist) and various push wagons and blocks and puzzles and books -- and with whatever they can get their hands on. Tupperware drawer? Love it love it love it. Wooden spoons, metal bowls, paper slipped from a shelf that used to be out of reach? All fun. And today they came across a box of miscellaneous nursing and pumping supplies. Apparently, the "horns" for my old hospital-grade pump are excellent toys that have been in high demand ever since. Who knew?

The $10,000 Question* (Updated @ end)

Welcome, Akeeyu, to the world of stupid twin-parent questions. It’s lovely here. Really.

We just got back from a week’s vacation with the in-laws. They rented a house in a mellow mountain town, and we mostly just hung out and played with the kids. Midweek, I managed to pinch a nerve in my neck, or throw something out of alignment - whatever it was, it hurt. I couldn’t find a local chiropractor with availablility that day, so J booked a massage for me at the local “day spa.”

I was already a bit unsure about the massage therapist when I met her and she had a weak handshake. I don’t know about you, but I generally think of hand strength as a good thing in a massage. But my whole neck and upper back had tightened up around this spot, so I stripped down and settled myself on the table. She starts working, and making small talk - where are you visiting from? how did you hurt your back? I said I was playing with my one-year-old twins, and she said... “Oh, are they natural or did you use drugs?”

Yeah. Because that makes for a relaxing massage. I said, “We were lucky” though that answer totally feels like a cop out on a number of levels (although it’s true, we were - are - lucky). And then she said, “I lost a set of twins.” And what do you say to that? Especially when laying naked under a sheet in a room with a virtual stranger. “Um, I’m sorry.” **

But otherwise it was a lovely vacation, and my babysitter is back in town (halleluyah!) so maybe I’ll actually find a few minutes here and there to write. And shave my legs. And pee in peace. You know, the little things.

* As in, If I had a nickel for every time I’d been asked the question, I’d sure be richer now.

** UPDATE: Not that it lessens the pain any, but this woman's kids are in their late 20s or early 30s, so any loss was a long time ago. The vibe I got was that it was a miscarriage, though I don't know why I think that. I'm not saying that makes it less painful - god how we all know that - just that it wasn't quite as fresh as it might sound. And the massage was only mediocre, so I got more caught up in that than her potential loss. Sometimes I am incredibly selfish. Perhaps a conversation for another time - the balance between being a compassionate person, and being granted an hour of blissful and mindless relaxation.

Hooray for small victories

I successfully made wheat-free, egg-free cupcakes for the babies to try at their party tomorrow. Not that they'll know the effort, or the difference. But stil, yay!

(Longer post, ruminating on the passing of a whole year of their lives to come, but for now I have a party to make happen, and cupcakes to frost. My ruminating will have to happen later.)

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.