Last week flew by, and before I knew it, I owed D two new recipes. So here they are.
CROCK POT CHICKEN SANDWICHES
What you need:
4-5 Boneless, skinless chicken breasts cut up into chunks.
1 can cream of chicken soup (I use the heart healthy version from Campbells)
Garlic powder
Onion powder
Pepper
bread crumbs
Burger buns (I use whole wheat)
Optional: Lettuce, cheese, tomato...any sandwich toppings.
What you do:
Put chicken breast into crock pot. Add cream soup, and season to taste with garlic and onion powders and pepper. Cook on high for 2 hours, until chicken is cooked through. Shred chicken using two forks or whatever method works best for you. Add bread crumbs to thicken mixture, usually about 1/2 to 1 cup depending on preference. Then all you do is build the sandwich!
The next recipe I made for lab meeting this week. It's super easy and versatile.
CHEWY GRANOLA BARS
What you need:
1 stick of butter, melted
1 cup of old fashioned oats
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
12 oz of fruit jam or jelly (I like raspberry)
What you do:
Combine flour, baking soda, and butter in a large bowl until coarse crumbs form. Mix in oats. Grease an 8x8 pan (I've also used a round cake pan). Press mixture onto bottom of pan, reserving about 1 1/ cups. Spread jelly over oat mixture. Top with remaining oat mixture, pressing down slightly. Bake at 350 degrees for about 25 minutes until top is golden brown.
I have combined the jelly with melted chocolate chips. Someone in my lab is trying it with white chocolate chips and strawberry jelly. Another labmate is using nutella (SWOON) and raspberry jam. You can create your own flavors. :)
Showing posts with label the necessary survival skills of a Grad Mom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the necessary survival skills of a Grad Mom. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
The PhD bracelet
In my lab, we have a tradition. Whenever a member achieves something noteworthy, my adviser purchases a bottle of champagne. The person with the accomplishment paints the cork a certain color, depending on what they have done, and fires it at the ceiling. Then, they sign the tile next to the cork mark, and the lab drinks happily in celebration. Our ceiling is amazing.
But...
I can't take the ceiling with me when I graduate.
I wanted something to mark each milestone, each accomplishment, of my own.
I give you: The Pandora PhD bracelet!
It started with 2 charms, one for acceptance into the PhD program and one for getting an assistantship that covers my tuition and gives me a stipend. The third charm is for presenting at the Animal Behavior Conference in Bloomington, Indiana this past spring. Whenever I publish, pass a milestone (prelims, proposal defense, etc.), receive an award or grant, or present research, I will get a new charm. When I graduate, if all goes as planned, I will have one amazing bracelet to remind me of all the hard work I put in over 4 years and what I have achieved.
But...
I can't take the ceiling with me when I graduate.
I wanted something to mark each milestone, each accomplishment, of my own.
I give you: The Pandora PhD bracelet!
It started with 2 charms, one for acceptance into the PhD program and one for getting an assistantship that covers my tuition and gives me a stipend. The third charm is for presenting at the Animal Behavior Conference in Bloomington, Indiana this past spring. Whenever I publish, pass a milestone (prelims, proposal defense, etc.), receive an award or grant, or present research, I will get a new charm. When I graduate, if all goes as planned, I will have one amazing bracelet to remind me of all the hard work I put in over 4 years and what I have achieved.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Hoop Jumping
When I finished my Masters Degree from USF, one of the reasons I chose not to go into a PhD program right away was the administrative bull crap that comes along with any degree. It was not the work, it wasn't the research. It was the hoop jumping that was required.
I'm pretty organized. I learn my degree requirements and make sure I understand the program, what's expected, and when it is due to the proper officials. I can handle that. What starts to drive me batty is when requirements for the College and for the Department don't line up and NO ONE CAN EXPLAIN WHY OR HOW TO FIX IT.
Being a PhD student, I belong to a bunch of different people (to simplify things, I'm calling them people). I belong to the Graduate College, who have fairly generalized requirements and don't understand a lick of what goes into scientific research but seem to like forms and paper. I belong to the College of Arts and Sciences, who start to understand science and somewhat know the requirements of the Grad College. Finally, I belong to the Department of Biological Sciences. I am not really sure what they understand, to be perfectly honest.
I don't pay to come to school here. I have an assistantship that covers my tuition and gives me a teaching stipend. It's awesome and I am very grateful for this. It was smooth sailing for the first year. I applied for in state residency to save the Department money on out of state fees. I do my registration on time. I get my forms in early. I have an awesome adviser who rocks at science and research and getting his students out on time. We sat down at the beginning of last fall, made a time line and check in to make sure we are there every so often. Well, not all the grad students are like me or have adviser who even know what the degree requirements are. Degree programs are being stretched to their limit, and the Department only has so much money to give. That means they have to cut and set limits.
Recently, the Department decided they are only going to pay for 6 credit hours per fall and spring semester per grad student and 1 hour in the summer, unless there are unique circumstances. Students can still get out on time (I can't really say this with a straight face because apparently this is a problem in our Department). HOWEVER, the Grad College stipulates full time graduate student enrollment is 8 credit hours during the fall and spring, 4 during the summer. Here come all the hoops.
I have spent more time on the phone and sending emails this summer than I care to spend. I am enrolled for 2 credit hours this summer. Two does not equal four. So I am not full time. This bumped my student discounts on insurance. One of my student loans from undergrad threatened to fall out of deferment. Isaac's and my health insurance was dropped since I am under the university policy and they can only cover FULL TIME STUDENTS. The State retirement fund (I technically work for the State of Ohio) takes 10% of your paycheck automatically if you aren't a full time student. That makes no sense at all to me, and my summer stipend was already lower than a minimum wage job at McDonalds. It was literally one thing after another.
This morning, I took care of what I hope to be the final issue for this year. When I filled out my financial aid forms in the early spring semester, I put that I was enrolled full time. This was before the Department changed what they would pay for. That means, I was awarded the maximum amount of federal aid allowable to a full time student. Until, I wasn't a full time student anymore. All of sudden my award disbursement was suspended and I had no idea why. I took care of everything as it was popping up. I need that money. Isaac needs that money. WE NEED THAT MONEY. I finally figured out this morning, after a length call to the financial office, that my award status does not meet my enrollment status. I had to change it to match, or my aid would be severely delayed, if not cancelled for the Fall semester.
This is not a hoop. This is a flaming hoop like the ones the circus wants animals to jump through. It's a pain in the rear, to put it delicately.
I have enough going on in my life without the hassle of dealing with these types of things that arise since other students can't get their act together to graduate on time. I understand extenuating circumstances. But when the average length of the programs is getting longer and longer because people fail to get their requirements done on time and I am being stifled because of it? That I don't understand.
Fingers crossed there are no more issues. I have a dissertation to complete.
I'm pretty organized. I learn my degree requirements and make sure I understand the program, what's expected, and when it is due to the proper officials. I can handle that. What starts to drive me batty is when requirements for the College and for the Department don't line up and NO ONE CAN EXPLAIN WHY OR HOW TO FIX IT.
Being a PhD student, I belong to a bunch of different people (to simplify things, I'm calling them people). I belong to the Graduate College, who have fairly generalized requirements and don't understand a lick of what goes into scientific research but seem to like forms and paper. I belong to the College of Arts and Sciences, who start to understand science and somewhat know the requirements of the Grad College. Finally, I belong to the Department of Biological Sciences. I am not really sure what they understand, to be perfectly honest.
I don't pay to come to school here. I have an assistantship that covers my tuition and gives me a teaching stipend. It's awesome and I am very grateful for this. It was smooth sailing for the first year. I applied for in state residency to save the Department money on out of state fees. I do my registration on time. I get my forms in early. I have an awesome adviser who rocks at science and research and getting his students out on time. We sat down at the beginning of last fall, made a time line and check in to make sure we are there every so often. Well, not all the grad students are like me or have adviser who even know what the degree requirements are. Degree programs are being stretched to their limit, and the Department only has so much money to give. That means they have to cut and set limits.
Recently, the Department decided they are only going to pay for 6 credit hours per fall and spring semester per grad student and 1 hour in the summer, unless there are unique circumstances. Students can still get out on time (I can't really say this with a straight face because apparently this is a problem in our Department). HOWEVER, the Grad College stipulates full time graduate student enrollment is 8 credit hours during the fall and spring, 4 during the summer. Here come all the hoops.
I have spent more time on the phone and sending emails this summer than I care to spend. I am enrolled for 2 credit hours this summer. Two does not equal four. So I am not full time. This bumped my student discounts on insurance. One of my student loans from undergrad threatened to fall out of deferment. Isaac's and my health insurance was dropped since I am under the university policy and they can only cover FULL TIME STUDENTS. The State retirement fund (I technically work for the State of Ohio) takes 10% of your paycheck automatically if you aren't a full time student. That makes no sense at all to me, and my summer stipend was already lower than a minimum wage job at McDonalds. It was literally one thing after another.
This morning, I took care of what I hope to be the final issue for this year. When I filled out my financial aid forms in the early spring semester, I put that I was enrolled full time. This was before the Department changed what they would pay for. That means, I was awarded the maximum amount of federal aid allowable to a full time student. Until, I wasn't a full time student anymore. All of sudden my award disbursement was suspended and I had no idea why. I took care of everything as it was popping up. I need that money. Isaac needs that money. WE NEED THAT MONEY. I finally figured out this morning, after a length call to the financial office, that my award status does not meet my enrollment status. I had to change it to match, or my aid would be severely delayed, if not cancelled for the Fall semester.
This is not a hoop. This is a flaming hoop like the ones the circus wants animals to jump through. It's a pain in the rear, to put it delicately.
I have enough going on in my life without the hassle of dealing with these types of things that arise since other students can't get their act together to graduate on time. I understand extenuating circumstances. But when the average length of the programs is getting longer and longer because people fail to get their requirements done on time and I am being stifled because of it? That I don't understand.
Fingers crossed there are no more issues. I have a dissertation to complete.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
The R Word
Coming back into Ohio, as well as into the academic setting after so long in the workplace and in California was a huge adjustment that I have talked about many times (and probably more to come). I have learned a great deal about myself, my husband, in addition to valuable lessons on trust, integrity, and commitment. One of the most important lessons, however; has been running through my mind frequently over the past two summer months. This is one on a word we all know: RESPECT.
Everyone wants it. Everyone thinks they deserve it. But a very small handful seem to understand that they have to earn it.
I attended this university as an undergrad, and took courses from many of the professors who are still here today. Some are in the same positions, others are not. Perhaps it is the time I spent away from academia, or this university, or this State in general. Perhaps it's that I am older and been in different environments. Or perhaps it's always been this way, and I did not see it.
I can't respect people who throw out racist comments that visibly make others uncomfortable. I just can't. Especially when this comes from someone who should know better. There are a million excuses, but the bottom line is this: with great power comes great responsibility. And that responsibility involves being aware of comments you make in reference to race. Period. I know that I can't respect that.
But what if that person is in a position that deserves respect?
I can respect your position and your authority, as long as I am in a position below you. But I can't respect you as a person. And as one continues down this path, it becomes increasingly difficult to respect you in your position. Know your place. And adapt your behavior to it appropriately. Then I will respect you.
In addition to being a student, I am a teacher. I have taught a diverse group of students over the past 2 semesters and summer session. I have had amazing students in all my labs, both majors and non majors. And not so amazing ones.
Let's set the record straight. I respect your position as a student. I realize that entering the world of higher learning as a freshman is difficult and everyone comes from different cultural, social, and academic backgrounds. I understand that my class is not your only class, but please don't expect me to hand out pity because you "can't get out of bed on time".
I was an undergrad once. I know it's hard. I know it's overwhelming. I know you are dealing with a mountain of changes in your life. I respect that. I also know how hard it is to have a family and be a student. I respect your position in being a parent first. I understand the importance of that role. What I do not respect is all your excuses for not coming to class. You know what? I respect honesty. You know what I don't respect? A sense of entitlement. You could be a genius. You could go on to make brilliant scientific discoveries like curing cancer. Until then, please remember, you are a student, my student. And I am going to give you all due respect. And I do mean all DUE respect. Truth be told, I am pretty lenient and laid back. I let you make work up if you attempt to show you have respect for me, my time, and the course. If you acknowledge you are in the wrong and try to modify your behavior. I'm clear on my expectations from the start.
Early in the last semester a student was mouthy with a professor of the class I sit in on The professor called him out on it, and rightly so. Later that afternoon, I got a call from the Department Chair wanting to know what had happened and what I thought of the situation. A student had complained. I told the truth. The student was out of line, big time and deserved to be called out. I didn't think the fully tenured, experienced professor who had taught me many years ago was wrong. This professor was clear on his personality and methods and expectations from the beginning. I came to find out that the student that complained about the professor being offensive was not even the student called out in class. That particular actually apologized for his behavior after class. And all of a sudden the Chair starts showing up in class to monitor the professor, not telling him of his intentions. W.T.F.
The lack of respect in that situation made me sick to my stomach.
These situations got me thinking about how my son will behave in class. How he will learn respect. I can tell you this much. If my son spoke to a professor in that manner, I would be appalled and angry. And embarrassed because that is a reflection on me. If my son made racist comments in a public setting and wasn't an elderly man from the deep South (not that that makes racism ok, but makes it understandable that he thought that type of remark was ok. The person that made this comment was not those things), I would feel the same.
The bottom line is this. No matter what position you are in, respect needs to be earned. And respect needs to be given to those positions above you. You may not respect the person, but respect authority. And then set the example to change the behavior.
Everyone wants it. Everyone thinks they deserve it. But a very small handful seem to understand that they have to earn it.
I attended this university as an undergrad, and took courses from many of the professors who are still here today. Some are in the same positions, others are not. Perhaps it is the time I spent away from academia, or this university, or this State in general. Perhaps it's that I am older and been in different environments. Or perhaps it's always been this way, and I did not see it.
I can't respect people who throw out racist comments that visibly make others uncomfortable. I just can't. Especially when this comes from someone who should know better. There are a million excuses, but the bottom line is this: with great power comes great responsibility. And that responsibility involves being aware of comments you make in reference to race. Period. I know that I can't respect that.
But what if that person is in a position that deserves respect?
I can respect your position and your authority, as long as I am in a position below you. But I can't respect you as a person. And as one continues down this path, it becomes increasingly difficult to respect you in your position. Know your place. And adapt your behavior to it appropriately. Then I will respect you.
In addition to being a student, I am a teacher. I have taught a diverse group of students over the past 2 semesters and summer session. I have had amazing students in all my labs, both majors and non majors. And not so amazing ones.
Let's set the record straight. I respect your position as a student. I realize that entering the world of higher learning as a freshman is difficult and everyone comes from different cultural, social, and academic backgrounds. I understand that my class is not your only class, but please don't expect me to hand out pity because you "can't get out of bed on time".
I was an undergrad once. I know it's hard. I know it's overwhelming. I know you are dealing with a mountain of changes in your life. I respect that. I also know how hard it is to have a family and be a student. I respect your position in being a parent first. I understand the importance of that role. What I do not respect is all your excuses for not coming to class. You know what? I respect honesty. You know what I don't respect? A sense of entitlement. You could be a genius. You could go on to make brilliant scientific discoveries like curing cancer. Until then, please remember, you are a student, my student. And I am going to give you all due respect. And I do mean all DUE respect. Truth be told, I am pretty lenient and laid back. I let you make work up if you attempt to show you have respect for me, my time, and the course. If you acknowledge you are in the wrong and try to modify your behavior. I'm clear on my expectations from the start.
Early in the last semester a student was mouthy with a professor of the class I sit in on The professor called him out on it, and rightly so. Later that afternoon, I got a call from the Department Chair wanting to know what had happened and what I thought of the situation. A student had complained. I told the truth. The student was out of line, big time and deserved to be called out. I didn't think the fully tenured, experienced professor who had taught me many years ago was wrong. This professor was clear on his personality and methods and expectations from the beginning. I came to find out that the student that complained about the professor being offensive was not even the student called out in class. That particular actually apologized for his behavior after class. And all of a sudden the Chair starts showing up in class to monitor the professor, not telling him of his intentions. W.T.F.
The lack of respect in that situation made me sick to my stomach.
These situations got me thinking about how my son will behave in class. How he will learn respect. I can tell you this much. If my son spoke to a professor in that manner, I would be appalled and angry. And embarrassed because that is a reflection on me. If my son made racist comments in a public setting and wasn't an elderly man from the deep South (not that that makes racism ok, but makes it understandable that he thought that type of remark was ok. The person that made this comment was not those things), I would feel the same.
The bottom line is this. No matter what position you are in, respect needs to be earned. And respect needs to be given to those positions above you. You may not respect the person, but respect authority. And then set the example to change the behavior.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Mini-Vacations
This summer has been so incredibly busy. I like busy. I thrive on busy. However...I'm tired. And the busy won't be letting up anytime soon. I knew that going into a doctoral program would make my free time and me time vanish instantly. It has, and don't get me wrong. I love my program. I love what I am doing. But...I'm tired. PhD programs are busy. Being a mother is a busy job. I'm pretty sure the only people who do both at once are crazy type A people, like myself, who obviously are masochistic and thrive under pressure (Sidenote: what a wonderful way to describe myself! If anyone else said that to me I would rage on them with a stapler)
I don't know where May and June went. Or July for that matter. I remember the spring semester ending. Then I was making electrodes and pollution sources. I was reading articles and learning to use power tools. I was looking at new rental houses. Then I was in California for a the only vacation I will get during my 4 years (unless someone else gets married out of state. That always gets me a long weekend at least). I was home for 3 days and packing to go up to UMBS for my field work. Another 9 days passed. Next was packing and prepping to move. And teaching 3 labs and one recitation a week. We moved. Now, I had to unpack and decorate because apparently garbage bags, laundry baskets, and rubbermaid tubs are unsightly decor. Now here, I sit in the last part of July, as my summer session of teaching is drawing to a close, the house has finally started to look like it's lived in, and trying to remember the last time I slept.
My schedule since teaching started has been steady and consistent. Wake up, get ready, guzzle coffee, get Isaac up and out the door to be at school by 8:30 to set up lab. Teach for 3 hours. Take care of the crayfish system (which is leaking and has to be drained so it can be repaired.) and print outs. Answer emails. Head home around 1 to eat and let the dog out. Do laundry and dishes. Run errands. Grade papers to hand back the next day. Write the next day's lecture and go over the lab. Pick up Isaac. Make dinner. Give Isaac a bath. Work on dissertation proposal and data from the summer. Suddenly it's 11 pm. Weekends are spent unpacking and with family parties (seriously, did everyone have to be born in the summer?) and are gone before they start.
I'm exhausted. And burnt out.
To recharge, I have decided that every Wednesday, I am allowed to eat fast food for lunch and then take a nap. I ignore everything else until after I pick Isaac up from daycare. Wednesday nights aren't that much fun, but I need these mini-breaks or I would GO INSANE.
I know what I signed up for. I also know my limits. I have to have this one afternoon as my vacation, as meager as it may be.
I don't know where May and June went. Or July for that matter. I remember the spring semester ending. Then I was making electrodes and pollution sources. I was reading articles and learning to use power tools. I was looking at new rental houses. Then I was in California for a the only vacation I will get during my 4 years (unless someone else gets married out of state. That always gets me a long weekend at least). I was home for 3 days and packing to go up to UMBS for my field work. Another 9 days passed. Next was packing and prepping to move. And teaching 3 labs and one recitation a week. We moved. Now, I had to unpack and decorate because apparently garbage bags, laundry baskets, and rubbermaid tubs are unsightly decor. Now here, I sit in the last part of July, as my summer session of teaching is drawing to a close, the house has finally started to look like it's lived in, and trying to remember the last time I slept.
My schedule since teaching started has been steady and consistent. Wake up, get ready, guzzle coffee, get Isaac up and out the door to be at school by 8:30 to set up lab. Teach for 3 hours. Take care of the crayfish system (which is leaking and has to be drained so it can be repaired.) and print outs. Answer emails. Head home around 1 to eat and let the dog out. Do laundry and dishes. Run errands. Grade papers to hand back the next day. Write the next day's lecture and go over the lab. Pick up Isaac. Make dinner. Give Isaac a bath. Work on dissertation proposal and data from the summer. Suddenly it's 11 pm. Weekends are spent unpacking and with family parties (seriously, did everyone have to be born in the summer?) and are gone before they start.
I'm exhausted. And burnt out.
To recharge, I have decided that every Wednesday, I am allowed to eat fast food for lunch and then take a nap. I ignore everything else until after I pick Isaac up from daycare. Wednesday nights aren't that much fun, but I need these mini-breaks or I would GO INSANE.
I know what I signed up for. I also know my limits. I have to have this one afternoon as my vacation, as meager as it may be.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Committment
I try really hard to leave school at school so that when I am at home, I can be AT HOME. It doesn't work. Somehow, I end up bringing something home. Especially now, this close to the end of the semester. I understand it, and so does Ben. The person that doesn't is Isaac Boo.
About this time last semester, Isaac wanted to watch Cars. I put in on for him, and then he told me that he wanted to watch "Mater and the Ghostlight" which is a 7 minute Pixar short that is included on the disc. I was tired and had a bunch of work to do. I told him no because I didn't want to have to wait for it to finish so I could start the actual movie. He cried and asked again. I told him no again.
And then Ben came in and asked what the problem was. I told him and he said he would lay with him while he watched it and start the movie after. I went downstairs to start the dishes.
And to start crying.
I had just flipped out and told my son that I didn't have time to watch a 7 minute movie with him. 7 minutes. What kind of mother doesn't have 7 minutes for her son?
When we lived in California, it was Isaac and me a lot of the time. I took him to the park to feed the ducks all the time. I took him to swing. I took him to see the big trucks. We played ball-in-tree. I miss those times. We got used to it, both of us.
We made big sacrifices moving back here, that we were fully aware of. We knew what we would be giving up and what we stood to gain. The person that was not aware of those sacrifices was Isaac Boo. We were prepared but he wasn't.
There comes a time that enough becomes enough, that sacrifices become to great. What was more important to me, a clean sink or 7 minutes with my son? A letter grade or a walk to the park? I had to start drawing lines and rebalancing. Something wasn't working.
This degree, my studies, my research are all so very very important to me. But not more so than my beautiful baby boo.
I decided that no matter what my schedule, no matter was due, no matter what the day or how late we got home, Isaac was going to get one hour of solid, undistracted, mommy time.
It works for both of us.
We do puzzles. We read books. We color. We take Luna to the park. We make blanket forts and watch Bambi.
It's perfect. And although I might have to give up some sleep or some cleanliness. I don't care if my house is clean. I don't care if I have dark circles under my eyes. I don't care if I get a B instead of an A (ok, I kinda do because I am total type A, but I can deal, or at least I am learning to). My baby is only my baby once. He's only 3 once. And while I won't remember what I got on the GIS test in a decade or so, I will however, remember this time with Isaac when he sings the Bumblebee song to me.
This commitment to him is the easiest one I have ever had to make. It's a commitment that is hard to keep sometimes, but is the easiest to try for.
About this time last semester, Isaac wanted to watch Cars. I put in on for him, and then he told me that he wanted to watch "Mater and the Ghostlight" which is a 7 minute Pixar short that is included on the disc. I was tired and had a bunch of work to do. I told him no because I didn't want to have to wait for it to finish so I could start the actual movie. He cried and asked again. I told him no again.
And then Ben came in and asked what the problem was. I told him and he said he would lay with him while he watched it and start the movie after. I went downstairs to start the dishes.
And to start crying.
I had just flipped out and told my son that I didn't have time to watch a 7 minute movie with him. 7 minutes. What kind of mother doesn't have 7 minutes for her son?
When we lived in California, it was Isaac and me a lot of the time. I took him to the park to feed the ducks all the time. I took him to swing. I took him to see the big trucks. We played ball-in-tree. I miss those times. We got used to it, both of us.
We made big sacrifices moving back here, that we were fully aware of. We knew what we would be giving up and what we stood to gain. The person that was not aware of those sacrifices was Isaac Boo. We were prepared but he wasn't.
There comes a time that enough becomes enough, that sacrifices become to great. What was more important to me, a clean sink or 7 minutes with my son? A letter grade or a walk to the park? I had to start drawing lines and rebalancing. Something wasn't working.
This degree, my studies, my research are all so very very important to me. But not more so than my beautiful baby boo.
I decided that no matter what my schedule, no matter was due, no matter what the day or how late we got home, Isaac was going to get one hour of solid, undistracted, mommy time.
It works for both of us.
We do puzzles. We read books. We color. We take Luna to the park. We make blanket forts and watch Bambi.
It's perfect. And although I might have to give up some sleep or some cleanliness. I don't care if my house is clean. I don't care if I have dark circles under my eyes. I don't care if I get a B instead of an A (ok, I kinda do because I am total type A, but I can deal, or at least I am learning to). My baby is only my baby once. He's only 3 once. And while I won't remember what I got on the GIS test in a decade or so, I will however, remember this time with Isaac when he sings the Bumblebee song to me.
This commitment to him is the easiest one I have ever had to make. It's a commitment that is hard to keep sometimes, but is the easiest to try for.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Trade Off
When we lived in California, I never worried about money. My husband pulled a 6 figure salary, and I had a steady job. Yes, our rent was more than what we pay in three months out here, and a gallon of milk often cost as much as a kidney, but we were fine. Although I bitched about frivolous spending, we didn't worry about it as much. We paid our bills on time, more than the minimums, we saved, and we lived our lives.
Except we didn't have lives.
Correction, my husband didn't have a life outside work.
While he loved the amounts of his paychecks, he was working 24/7. When he wasn't physically at work, he was on the computer or on the phone. Let's face it, that kind of salary is never attached to a 40 hour work week. Since he was working so much in San Francisco, he often stayed in the office apartment above the store. It was an hour drive each way, and when you aren't leaving until 9 and have to be back by 7, there's not a lot of sense in coming home to sleep for a few hours. There were days when Isaac didn't see his dad, until we figured out how to Skype. Ben would go on business trips, meetings, trainings out of state, and we couldn't even do that much. We had to reschedule our Disneyland trip 3 times. 3 TIMES!
I didn't worry about money, but I did worry about my marriage. It was just me and Isaac ALL THE TIME. Even when Ben was home, we were hard pressed to find a babysitter so we could go to dinner or to a movie.
When we knew we were moving across the country, we started saving and paying off more. I started planning how we were going to survive on one third of what we were making. It's been rough. I didn't plan as well as I thought I did. Ben messed up his back and has been to all kinds of doctors for tests. One of the cars has needed repairs. SNOW TIRES, ugh.
Anyway, now I worry about money all the time. Like, I wake up at night for Isaac and I can't fall back asleep because my mind won't turn off. But you know what I don't worry about? MY MARRIAGE. I see my husband everyday. EVERY SINGLE DAY. When we have a problem, we can talk about it, face to face. We resolve things. Isaac sees his dad in real life, not over a computer screen. Most days, we eat dinner together. When Ben is home, he is HOME, not on the phone constantly or worrying about numbers or customer issues or whatnot. He's worried about, well, nothing. (Except maybe the fact that his wife is seriously inept at keeping up with laundry). We get to be a family. A broke family, but we are a family that sees each other.
This is a trade off I am willing to deal with. Somehow, dealing with money troubles seems immensely easier than dealing with marriage troubles. I'll take it.
Except we didn't have lives.
Correction, my husband didn't have a life outside work.
While he loved the amounts of his paychecks, he was working 24/7. When he wasn't physically at work, he was on the computer or on the phone. Let's face it, that kind of salary is never attached to a 40 hour work week. Since he was working so much in San Francisco, he often stayed in the office apartment above the store. It was an hour drive each way, and when you aren't leaving until 9 and have to be back by 7, there's not a lot of sense in coming home to sleep for a few hours. There were days when Isaac didn't see his dad, until we figured out how to Skype. Ben would go on business trips, meetings, trainings out of state, and we couldn't even do that much. We had to reschedule our Disneyland trip 3 times. 3 TIMES!
I didn't worry about money, but I did worry about my marriage. It was just me and Isaac ALL THE TIME. Even when Ben was home, we were hard pressed to find a babysitter so we could go to dinner or to a movie.
When we knew we were moving across the country, we started saving and paying off more. I started planning how we were going to survive on one third of what we were making. It's been rough. I didn't plan as well as I thought I did. Ben messed up his back and has been to all kinds of doctors for tests. One of the cars has needed repairs. SNOW TIRES, ugh.
Anyway, now I worry about money all the time. Like, I wake up at night for Isaac and I can't fall back asleep because my mind won't turn off. But you know what I don't worry about? MY MARRIAGE. I see my husband everyday. EVERY SINGLE DAY. When we have a problem, we can talk about it, face to face. We resolve things. Isaac sees his dad in real life, not over a computer screen. Most days, we eat dinner together. When Ben is home, he is HOME, not on the phone constantly or worrying about numbers or customer issues or whatnot. He's worried about, well, nothing. (Except maybe the fact that his wife is seriously inept at keeping up with laundry). We get to be a family. A broke family, but we are a family that sees each other.
This is a trade off I am willing to deal with. Somehow, dealing with money troubles seems immensely easier than dealing with marriage troubles. I'll take it.
Monday, January 16, 2012
What a Lazy Day Means
Today the University is closed for MLK day. That means I don't have daycare or classes or teaching or anything academic related that is obligated. I stayed up late last night gabbing with friends over red wine and some delicious kind of chocolate-y cake magic from Kroger. That means Isaac was due to wake up at 6:30. My husband came in the room to get something, and I rolled over and muttered something unintelligible about it being too damn early to be up on a holiday and to take the baby gate down so Isaac could come get me when he was done with his movie (I use it as a buffer. He lays around and watches a movie until he is ready to get up. It buys me anywhere from 15 to 45 minutes.).
When Isaac finally appeared at my bed, I took one look at him and decided it was a lazy day, which I texted to my husband. A few seconds later, I received the response "Soooo...that mean's you aren't taking a shower or putting on a bra today?"
If I could give him the stink eye over text, I would have.
That, dear husband, is NOT what a lazy day means (but maybe what it implies.)
A lazy day in our house means that Isaac and I eat junk food for breakfast and curl up on the couch until at least 10:30 watching movies. Which we did. It means we are spending the majority of the day in our PJs, playing trains, doing puzzles, and catching up on Pinterest.
It means that we are reading stories, playing with Play Doh, and making cheesy eggs in a dish for brunch.
It means the dishwasher is running but it most likely will not be unloaded.
It means that I consider productivity to be checking the bank balance and emailing our insurance agent enough for the day.
It means instead of reading GIS and making flash cards, I am reading "The Hunger Games" and sipping on my 3rd cup of coffee.
It means that Isaac is using Luna as a pillow and is on his 4th Disney movie (he only watches about 30 minutes of each). It means we have scoured the internet for an appropriate potty prize and printed said prize out to post next to the potty.
It means that we are spending the day relaxing and pretending that tomorrow we don't have to get up early and blow dry our hair, put on make up and jeans and accessorize. It means that we are enjoying the hours we get to spend together before we have to go back to daycare and teaching and listening to people tell us what we should be learning and already know.
It means today, the only thing that matters to me is that Isaac is my baby Boo and we are celebrating our togetherness.
And that I am not taking a shower or putting on a bra.
When Isaac finally appeared at my bed, I took one look at him and decided it was a lazy day, which I texted to my husband. A few seconds later, I received the response "Soooo...that mean's you aren't taking a shower or putting on a bra today?"
If I could give him the stink eye over text, I would have.
That, dear husband, is NOT what a lazy day means (but maybe what it implies.)
A lazy day in our house means that Isaac and I eat junk food for breakfast and curl up on the couch until at least 10:30 watching movies. Which we did. It means we are spending the majority of the day in our PJs, playing trains, doing puzzles, and catching up on Pinterest.
It means that we are reading stories, playing with Play Doh, and making cheesy eggs in a dish for brunch.
It means the dishwasher is running but it most likely will not be unloaded.
It means that I consider productivity to be checking the bank balance and emailing our insurance agent enough for the day.
It means instead of reading GIS and making flash cards, I am reading "The Hunger Games" and sipping on my 3rd cup of coffee.
It means that Isaac is using Luna as a pillow and is on his 4th Disney movie (he only watches about 30 minutes of each). It means we have scoured the internet for an appropriate potty prize and printed said prize out to post next to the potty.
It means that we are spending the day relaxing and pretending that tomorrow we don't have to get up early and blow dry our hair, put on make up and jeans and accessorize. It means that we are enjoying the hours we get to spend together before we have to go back to daycare and teaching and listening to people tell us what we should be learning and already know.
It means today, the only thing that matters to me is that Isaac is my baby Boo and we are celebrating our togetherness.
And that I am not taking a shower or putting on a bra.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Black Friday Virgin
Since I have had a week to recover (READ: DRINK) I can now retell how I lost my Black Friday virginity. I suppose I could say I was a newbie, but this is was a violating experience. There is no other appropriate way.
For some unknown reason I decided that I was going to go Black Friday Shopping for the first time this year. Alone. AT WALMART. Oh wait, it gets better...I WANTED LEGO DUPLOS. I had attempted to go to Toys R Us last year in California with a neighbor, but when we got there, the line was wrapped around the entire building, twice. Yeah, not so much. We drove home and I curled up with my laptop and leftover turkey in my pj pants. This year, we have a tight Christmas budget. I wanted to stretch it as far as possible.
I left Isaac with Ben, at his parents' house and drove back to our local Walmart. I had changed into my sneakers and my hair was in a ponytail. I had my GAME FACE ON. It was a little past 8. I got a rock start parking spot close to the doors. I played on my iPhone for a bit, and noticed an increase of people walking into the store. At 8:10. I figured I could go in and walk around, since I needed things that weren't on crazy sales, like dogfood, shampoo...etc.Upon entering the store, I noticed no one was wearing a coat or a purse. Because clearly purses are for sissies. I returned to my car to drop off said items. I BARELY GOT A CART.
I decided to scope out the layout to see where the things that I wanted were located (side note: I had to run to Walmart the night before because we were out of coffee.). All the specials were on pallets, and shrink wrapped with signs saying they weren't available until 10 pm. I wanted to see where my pallets were. Oh, and they were handing out MAPS. MAPS OF PALLETS IN WALMART.
By 8:30 I could barely maneuver down the aisles. There were people camped out EVERYWHERE, waiting for the electronics to go on sale AT MIDNIGHT. The megaminds of the Black Friday sale had at least had the forethought to disperse said electronics and gaming systems throughout the store and not cluster them in their proper department. Apparently people had been waiting for the XBox for like, 7 hours or something. These people must hate turkey. And pie. And in my mind those people do NOT deserve an XBox. That's like anti-American or something.
I fought my way BACK to the toy section where the pallet of Legos was sandwiched between some weird rocking horse things and Disney princess dress up trunks. There were more people there than had been when I first passed the area. I camped out right in front of the pallet, pushing my cart against an aisle shelf. I quickly made friends with another Lego stalker, I mean, shopper. I don't know her name. But I know she wanted one red carton of legos. I wanted the green. It was 8:45.
By 9, my new BFF was like, laying on the Lego pallet. I was guarding the carts. She was hardcore. A beast. The hardcore beast of Legos. I am pretty sure every toy has one.
By 9:30, my phone was ready to die. That was probably the most active I have ever been on Twitter in a short amount of time since my maternity leave (killing time waiting for Legos...killing time waiting for the next feeding...SAME). I had texted all about my new BFF and how I was pretty sure that I wouldn't make it out of Walmart alive. I was one tiny person. I told Ben to tell Isaac that Mommy loved him and TO MAKE SURE HE GOT HIS LEGOS SO I DIDN'T DIE IN VAIN. It's like he didn't take me seriously though, because he didn't respond to that text. WHATEVS.
About 9:45 the banging and thuds started. There were a few screams. There were cops roaming around. And I am pretty sure the Walmart workers were packing some heat or at least bear mace. DAMMIT I WAS DETERMINED TO GET THE LEGOS. I HAD WAITED THIS LONG.
I had also made another friend to told me that it was like Walmart was trying to start riots. Last year, you could put stuff into your cart, you just couldn't check out until after 10pm. FLAW IN THE SYSTEM.
I was edging my way closer to BFF1 because apparently people didn't understand THERE WAS A PECKING ORDER HERE AND NO CUTSIES!
At about 9:55pm the shrink wrap was flying. So were the Legos. I GOT MINE! AND I PASSED A SET TO BFF2 with the help of BFF1.
Somehow I managed to get back to my cart and semi-navigate through the throngs of crazies...I mean shoppers. I managed to get everything on my list but the iPad cover. I wasn't brave enough to try to go through the electronics sections. By the time I made it to the $1.96 movies, there were like 5 left. COME TO REALIZE THESE MOVIES ARE ONLY $5 regularly. NOT WORTH A FINGER OR ARM PEOPLE.
I was out of Walmart by 10:20 with 4 sets of pjs, THE LEGOS!, a play doh set, 3 games, and table and chair set you could write all over and erase or something.
It took about 2 and half hours and 20 years off my life. But I am pretty sure I will go back next year.
MAYBE. Only if there are Legos.
For some unknown reason I decided that I was going to go Black Friday Shopping for the first time this year. Alone. AT WALMART. Oh wait, it gets better...I WANTED LEGO DUPLOS. I had attempted to go to Toys R Us last year in California with a neighbor, but when we got there, the line was wrapped around the entire building, twice. Yeah, not so much. We drove home and I curled up with my laptop and leftover turkey in my pj pants. This year, we have a tight Christmas budget. I wanted to stretch it as far as possible.
I left Isaac with Ben, at his parents' house and drove back to our local Walmart. I had changed into my sneakers and my hair was in a ponytail. I had my GAME FACE ON. It was a little past 8. I got a rock start parking spot close to the doors. I played on my iPhone for a bit, and noticed an increase of people walking into the store. At 8:10. I figured I could go in and walk around, since I needed things that weren't on crazy sales, like dogfood, shampoo...etc.Upon entering the store, I noticed no one was wearing a coat or a purse. Because clearly purses are for sissies. I returned to my car to drop off said items. I BARELY GOT A CART.
I decided to scope out the layout to see where the things that I wanted were located (side note: I had to run to Walmart the night before because we were out of coffee.). All the specials were on pallets, and shrink wrapped with signs saying they weren't available until 10 pm. I wanted to see where my pallets were. Oh, and they were handing out MAPS. MAPS OF PALLETS IN WALMART.
By 8:30 I could barely maneuver down the aisles. There were people camped out EVERYWHERE, waiting for the electronics to go on sale AT MIDNIGHT. The megaminds of the Black Friday sale had at least had the forethought to disperse said electronics and gaming systems throughout the store and not cluster them in their proper department. Apparently people had been waiting for the XBox for like, 7 hours or something. These people must hate turkey. And pie. And in my mind those people do NOT deserve an XBox. That's like anti-American or something.
I fought my way BACK to the toy section where the pallet of Legos was sandwiched between some weird rocking horse things and Disney princess dress up trunks. There were more people there than had been when I first passed the area. I camped out right in front of the pallet, pushing my cart against an aisle shelf. I quickly made friends with another Lego stalker, I mean, shopper. I don't know her name. But I know she wanted one red carton of legos. I wanted the green. It was 8:45.
By 9, my new BFF was like, laying on the Lego pallet. I was guarding the carts. She was hardcore. A beast. The hardcore beast of Legos. I am pretty sure every toy has one.
By 9:30, my phone was ready to die. That was probably the most active I have ever been on Twitter in a short amount of time since my maternity leave (killing time waiting for Legos...killing time waiting for the next feeding...SAME). I had texted all about my new BFF and how I was pretty sure that I wouldn't make it out of Walmart alive. I was one tiny person. I told Ben to tell Isaac that Mommy loved him and TO MAKE SURE HE GOT HIS LEGOS SO I DIDN'T DIE IN VAIN. It's like he didn't take me seriously though, because he didn't respond to that text. WHATEVS.
About 9:45 the banging and thuds started. There were a few screams. There were cops roaming around. And I am pretty sure the Walmart workers were packing some heat or at least bear mace. DAMMIT I WAS DETERMINED TO GET THE LEGOS. I HAD WAITED THIS LONG.
I had also made another friend to told me that it was like Walmart was trying to start riots. Last year, you could put stuff into your cart, you just couldn't check out until after 10pm. FLAW IN THE SYSTEM.
I was edging my way closer to BFF1 because apparently people didn't understand THERE WAS A PECKING ORDER HERE AND NO CUTSIES!
At about 9:55pm the shrink wrap was flying. So were the Legos. I GOT MINE! AND I PASSED A SET TO BFF2 with the help of BFF1.
Somehow I managed to get back to my cart and semi-navigate through the throngs of crazies...I mean shoppers. I managed to get everything on my list but the iPad cover. I wasn't brave enough to try to go through the electronics sections. By the time I made it to the $1.96 movies, there were like 5 left. COME TO REALIZE THESE MOVIES ARE ONLY $5 regularly. NOT WORTH A FINGER OR ARM PEOPLE.
I was out of Walmart by 10:20 with 4 sets of pjs, THE LEGOS!, a play doh set, 3 games, and table and chair set you could write all over and erase or something.
It took about 2 and half hours and 20 years off my life. But I am pretty sure I will go back next year.
MAYBE. Only if there are Legos.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
A Relearned Art
I have always been a good multi-tasker. I have always been able to find balance and have exceptional time management skills in order to accomplish everything. The last time I was in grad school, I was taking classes, teaching classes, doing research, working about 30 hours a week, planning my wedding that would take place across the country, and maintaining a house (or sardine can, since we are talking about San Francisco). My planner was color coordinated with assignments, appointments, bills, due dates, meetings, schedules. I had discovered a whole new array of highlighters and type A OCD.
And let's face it, being a mother requires a high level of multi-tasking ability.
In my last job, I had many roles and responsibilities, all of which were possible simply because I could multi-task like no other. However, somewhere along the way, between deadlines and play dates and emails and phone calls and shopping and cleaning...something went awry.
There have been times when I started one task, like folding laundry. Then Isaac would call me into the other room and somehow, I was cooking dinner, folding laundry, typing an email, talking on the phone, paying bills, and fixing a toy and picture frame at the same time. This is a mild example, It only escalated from there.
I would start 17 tasks at once. Oddly (snort) none of them would get done, and then at the end of the day, I would be in stressed out tears because I hadn't accomplished anything and the next day, I had even more to do.
I moved across the country this summer. I quit my job and started my PhD. I'm taking classes again and teaching again. I'm starting research. All things I have done before.
However, this time I have a husband and toddler and a puppy and two cats. Oh, and I MOVED ACROSS THE COUNTRY.
Multi-tasking has taken on new meaning. Somehow my old methods just aren't cutting it.
I realized this when I was trying to download something off a course website, trying to pay a bill, calling to verify an address had been changed, sending an email, and chatting with a friend on Facebook. I wasn't accomplishing anything. I was having issues among the various tasks. And a fellow grad student was listening to my expletives and trying desperately to follow what I was doing. A few times she commented that she had thought I was still working on one of the other tasks rather than the one I was actually working on.
My stress level has been increasing and it was only the first week of school.
I realized that I had to slow down and retrain myself. I could still multi-task, but I needed to finish things. Now, I don't have time to not get my stuff done. I don't have time to have to redo things or bump tasks until the next day, because the next day is already full. I have decided that going back to school is not going to take more away from Isaac than it needs to. That means I need my weekends. I want to leave as much on campus as I can.
So...I have taken a step back. I am starting one task and seeing it all the way through. If I get interrupted and notice distractions or other things that need to get done, I force myself to finish the first task.
It's working very well. I AM GETTING STUFF DONE.It's taking a bit of time. And a llllllooooootttt of retraining and forcing myself to follow through.
And let's face it, being a mother requires a high level of multi-tasking ability.
In my last job, I had many roles and responsibilities, all of which were possible simply because I could multi-task like no other. However, somewhere along the way, between deadlines and play dates and emails and phone calls and shopping and cleaning...something went awry.
There have been times when I started one task, like folding laundry. Then Isaac would call me into the other room and somehow, I was cooking dinner, folding laundry, typing an email, talking on the phone, paying bills, and fixing a toy and picture frame at the same time. This is a mild example, It only escalated from there.
I would start 17 tasks at once. Oddly (snort) none of them would get done, and then at the end of the day, I would be in stressed out tears because I hadn't accomplished anything and the next day, I had even more to do.
I moved across the country this summer. I quit my job and started my PhD. I'm taking classes again and teaching again. I'm starting research. All things I have done before.
However, this time I have a husband and toddler and a puppy and two cats. Oh, and I MOVED ACROSS THE COUNTRY.
Multi-tasking has taken on new meaning. Somehow my old methods just aren't cutting it.
I realized this when I was trying to download something off a course website, trying to pay a bill, calling to verify an address had been changed, sending an email, and chatting with a friend on Facebook. I wasn't accomplishing anything. I was having issues among the various tasks. And a fellow grad student was listening to my expletives and trying desperately to follow what I was doing. A few times she commented that she had thought I was still working on one of the other tasks rather than the one I was actually working on.
My stress level has been increasing and it was only the first week of school.
I realized that I had to slow down and retrain myself. I could still multi-task, but I needed to finish things. Now, I don't have time to not get my stuff done. I don't have time to have to redo things or bump tasks until the next day, because the next day is already full. I have decided that going back to school is not going to take more away from Isaac than it needs to. That means I need my weekends. I want to leave as much on campus as I can.
So...I have taken a step back. I am starting one task and seeing it all the way through. If I get interrupted and notice distractions or other things that need to get done, I force myself to finish the first task.
It's working very well. I AM GETTING STUFF DONE.It's taking a bit of time. And a llllllooooootttt of retraining and forcing myself to follow through.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)