Excuses

February 25, 2009

I was doing an ivf cycle 1500 miles from home.

I was tired.

I was doing another ivf cycle long distance

My husband lost his job.

I was dealing with insurance companies.

And social security.

I was doing a third ivf cycle.

I was pregnant.

I was exercising, dancing or practicing yoga every day.

I was tired.

I had a baby.

I was depressed.

I was nursing.

I bought a house.

I was tired.

I thought I could work full time with the baby at home.

I was grading papers.

I was audited by the IRS.

I was audited again.

I am still dealing with insurance companies and social security.

I am depressed.

I am tired.

Who wants to hear excuses anyway?  My colleagues also have busy, tiring, and occasionally traumatic lives, and they “meet expectations.” Also, except for the fact that I might lose my job, I am really rather happy with my life. Having a baby was a good thing, not a negative one. (The IRS, though, not so much.) So, since I don’t want to make excuses at work, I’m sticking them all here, even though I could also point to any number of bloggers who are productive despite busy lives.


They Might Not Pay for Themselves

February 23, 2009

The cost effectiveness of compact fluorescent light bulbs goes down considerably if one must take into account inevitable (in our house) breakages and collateral damage. It will take a lot of energy savings to pay for the new sofa slipcover now that we’ve discarded the not-so-old mercury-laden one.

I was thinking that my husband would probably find cleanup instructions somewhere that were less paranoid than EPA’s guidelines. Unfortunately, he came back from his online search saying, “I hate it when the paranoid site is the most convincing.”

Of course, we both have memories of playing with the mercury globules from broken thermometers when we were kids. That could mean “hey, no problem with mercury, we turned out fine!” or that we should be extra careful having already absorbed a lifetime supply of the stuff.


Customer Input

February 12, 2009

Dear Owner / Manager of New Restaurant Nearby:

Do not put a banner across the front of your restaurant announcing that you are now open if the highly visible playscape next to your patio is not in fact open yet.

Sincerely,

May Never Be a Customer After All

Fortunately, the same shopping center in Tony Enclave We Don’t Live In has another restaurant with a bigger playscape attached, so all was not lost. I could hardly blame Zeb for getting upset when I encouraged him in his exitement about the playscape, only to inform him once we got close that he couldn’t play there after all.


Parenting News Notes

February 10, 2009

From the NY Times, and for once not in the style section. On the other hand, I’m not sure if they provide much in the way of new information.

1. Sick kids and day care/school. Keep them home if they have a fever or are miserable, take them in despite sniffles and coughs. Wash hands, lots. Who knew? In Science Tuesday.

2. Update on taking breast milk through TSA checkpoints at airports. In the business section.

Bonus: Is Scholastic Book Club taking advantage of its position in schools?

I’ve been reading the NYT in print because I’ve been doing the crossword  puzzles at the cafe down the street from from Zebediah’s day care. It would probably be more cost effective to subscribe to the paper or to the Premium Crosswords online, but that would mean admitting I have a habit.

and a question: why in the world would this blog have a spike in posts today, before I posted? I haven’t even commented anywhere recently.


Argh.

December 19, 2008

I am listening to a commentary by William Saletan on Morning Edition (or maybe it’s a local commentary?) and all I can say is: an embryo is not a baby. Since I am also trying to grade grad student re-writes, I that’s all for now.


18 months

December 9, 2008

Happy half birthday,  Zebediah!

In lieu of a tender and moving post about Zeb, I will just say that he is a joy.


No Prizes for Me

November 11, 2008

Sunday, instead of remembering to post at 11:30, I remembered after midnight. I could have just gone ahead and written Monday’s NaBloPoMo post, but I was up till 4am as it was, and even a nothing post might have extended that. Did I mention that Mondays are a little crazy around here too? This Monday ended with me missing my normal evening appointment (group therapy) because my husband couldn’t watch Zebediah. Then I went to bed when Z fell asleep, at 8pm. Which means another late night tonight, sigh. Only three more night classes and a night exam and then no more until next fall at the earliest.

I haven’t decided if I will try to keep up with the rest of GloBloPoMo, or try to post at least once a week, or just slide into my recent near-abandonment of the blog.


How We Deal with Money, Part 1: His, Mine, Ours

November 8, 2008

We put all of our money in the common pot: joint accounts at the bank. There’s a cd in my name, just because I was the one who went in to renew it, but it’s part of the common money.

In a community property state, everything we earn now is common anyway, but I know people who keep funds separate or partly separate. One friend said, “but don’t you want a separate account, like so-and-so has, so you can buy things (like presents) without the other person knowing all the details?” Other people think it is important to have one’s own account. My friend who was denied access to a joint account while her husband was traveling would probably agree with this (I’m not sure when it happened, though she told me the story 20 years ago, but I know where–the state I live in now).

As with my desire for a relatively traditional wedding (friends in attendance, standing up and making vows, not done by the Justice of the Peace, and not done in Tijuana), my feelings on this are partly related to my parents. I remember seeing a list on the fridge at my father’s house, detailing who had paid for what recently. My grad school housemates and I had a list like that, but ours was just groceries and utilities, not the kid’s orthodontist and so on. It reminded me of one of the stories in the Joy-Luck Club, in which the daughter in the failing marriage has a financial list like that (am I confusing this with a story from Charlie Chan is Dead? The fact that ice cream is on the list of shared expenses even though the wife is lactose intolerant is a key part of the story…)

In our case, when we were going out, we put money into a kitty and used that to pay our restaurant bills, movie tickets, and such. When we moved in together a few months before getting married, we had separate accounts, and kept those lists of groceries and utilities and rent to split the costs. After we got married, we got a joint account. I kept my non-community property (pre-marriage savings) in my old credit union, which refused to give us a joint account becuase of my husband’s credit rating. My husband had debts rather than savings, so he doesn’t have a stash of pre-marital money.

My husband lost his job three months before our wedding. Aside from emotional stress and financial insecurity, I think this is a good thing to happen to a couple, because it makes it clear that both of you are in this together. A friend of mine in a similar situation (can you say “high tech crash”?) agreed. It is especially good if the person who loses the job is the one who usually makes more money (ie. the computer programmer, not the literature professor). He (especially if it is the he) gets to experience being the one contributing less money. And she (in our case at least) gets a feel for the stress of being a sole breadwinner for a while.

Anyway, since I do all the financial record-keeping and paying of bills, it helps to have things in one place, albeit multiple accounts.

Maybe it is good that I keep forgetting to post until almost midnight, or I would really ramble on about things.


Birth Certificates

November 7, 2008

How many placeholder posts can I get away with this month?

It can’t be good that I almost forgot about posting.

A couple of days before his seventeen-month birthday, I finally went and got Zeb’s birth certificate, so that I can get him a passport, so that I can take him with me to a conference in Rio de Janeiro. (Did I mention that conference? Fodder for another post).

For some reason I thought that the state would send us a copy of the birth certificate. For the record, my husband thought so too, so either we both misunderstood the birth certificate women at the hospital or they were mad at us for waiting till the last minute (a couple of days after leaving the hospital) to give them Zeb’s official name and somehow diverted the birth certificate.

I got my first passport when I was 13. We had to keep going back for one reason or another. The first problem was that the birth certificate my parents had wasn’t the official one, but rather the pretty one from the hospital. We don’t have a pretty one from the hospital either. We do have the option of paying $60 for a special “Republic of X Native” heirloom birth certificate.

For some reason, as I was wandering around a campus of state buildings with poor signage looking for the Vital Statistics office, I was thinking about how much worse this would have been in the last week of my pregnancy when I suddenly got to the point where it was difficult to walk. It’s a good thing you don’t have to get the birth certificate before the birth is what I am saying.


A Bit of a Placeholder

November 6, 2008

As I said, Wednesdays are long days around here, which means Thursdays we are all usually in recovery mode. A visit to the pediatrician and a few shots in the morning for one of us doesn’t help matters.

On Wednesdays, I usually leave the house at 9:20am and return between 9:00 and 9:30 pm (yesterday I got home at exactly 9:00, but usually it’s a little later). Zebediah is home with my husband all day, because the day care closes at 6:00pm, and even if it wasn’t crazy to drive back 30 miles to Capital City to pick him up, take him home, and drive back to work, I don’t have time in between my afternoon class and evening class to do it.

The good news is that there are only 4 more late Wednesdays left.  I hope and plan that by the next time I teach a night class (not next semester, probably next year), I will have another level of child care in place to handle things like this.

More good news: I found out I will have one course worth of release time next semester, so I will be teaching two classes instead of three. This was a surprise, because I’ve already had some release time for the project in question previously, so I didn’t even know it was an option for the spring until a week ago.

Bad news: As our chair reminded us in a meeting recently,  25% percent release time (I know, 1 course out of three is 33%, but there’s a little more to it than that) never really compensates for the work people are usually doing on the task that got them the release.  So probably, the release time will not actually give me more time for writing.

I might settle for more sleep, but if that happens it will have more to do with moving to 4 days of day care instead of the current two. Yes, currently my students (as represented by their work-to-be-graded) are disrupting my sleep more than the toddler, not that he is sleeping through the night or anything like that.

Now that I have written a long post to excuse what was going to be the shortness of the post, I will get back to watching an old episode of The West Wing.