As the leaves begin to change color

"Can you set the DVR to record the Ohio State games?" my husband asks of me.

"What are you talking about? They don't start for a while yet." I reply.

"Um, they start on Saturday..."

This was a conversation that took place between my husband and I just a few weeks ago. Now here I sit, three weeks into college football season, knee deep in the semester, as the weather cools down and I try to figure where summer...or the whole year for that matter, has flown off to. It seems like only yesterday that I was packing to head up to Michigan for field research. It has been so busy, I have barely had time to take a shower, let alone blog about everything I want to. So here's a quick recap so I can shirk the guilt and move on.

I finished my first dissertation research data set. It's as beautiful as data can be, and holds a mountain of possibilities. Now comes the analysis and writing. I'm presenting it at the SICB conference in January...in San Francisco! I'm so excited. :) I am starting trials for my second project, just hammering out kinks in protocol. My formal courses are completed, so this year is filled with reading and studying for my prelims, seminar hours, and writing my proposal. I taught the second summer session of Gen Bio lab, and all of a sudden, 6 weeks had raced by. It was a lot of fun, and I loved the material more than the other courses I have taught. However; I'm not teaching this semester. I landed the prep TA spot and I'm holding onto it as long as possible.

Isaac started preschool! He is adjusting really well, although he claims it is too hard. Oh buddy, it will only get harder. Ben started a new job, working as a service adviser for a local VW dealer. He loves it. He's home more, and the money is better. The new house is finally unpacked. Just looking for a few things to make it home. This proves quite a challenge as we have no extra cash. This summer drained us.

Isaac met Thomas, met Dora, and went to the zoo countless times. He visited museums, went to fairs and festivals, and rode an elephant. I can't even count how many times he went swimming and fishing.  We've hosted cookouts and parties.

Even though the summer went so fast, I'm super excited to what this fall holds for us. Apple butter, pumpkin picking, football games, trick or treating, more holidays and birthdays with our family.

And before you know it, I will be sitting in this same chair, looking out my window at snow, wondering where the fall went.

The War of the Pets: How My Cat Tried to Kill My Dog

Guiliani, our black cat, was my first pet. My first real pet that I had living on my own, that is. He was my baby for 2 years, until we got Layla, our little Siamese. Their personalities are opposite, but after Isaac was born, they finally began to tolerate each other to the point of kitty friendship. Layla is very skittish, very afraid of strangers, but very very sweet. Guiliani is fearless, very friendly, and has a load of attitude. When we moved across the country, Layla claimed the basement and was barely coming upstairs. Guiliani was fine.

And then we got Luna Lu.

The cats hate her. She tries in vain to play with them with no avail. They HATE her. Layla refuses to even look at her, and when Luna manages to get close to her...it isn't pretty. Layla arches her backs or hunkers down and hisses. Growls. Guiliani is more tolerant, until Luna tries to play. Sometimes he indulges her, but most times he acts pissed. And swats. And hisses. At the old house we used to have a baby gate up in our bedroom door so Luna couldn't get in. The cats would sleep up there. Layla ran from the basement to the bedroom, never really figuring out there was a whole front half to the house. Guiliani went where he wanted. When we moved, we opted not to put up the baby gate. Partly because it was broken and I didn't want to buy a new one. And partly because it seemed like it was a good time to let Luna into the bedroom. She sleeps on the floor next to the bed.

Guiliani doesn't approve. He likes to sleep on the bed, preferably on my head. Having Luna in the bedroom, even on the floor, cramps his style (Layla is once again a basement kitty and we hope to see her upstairs sometime in the next year). He sits atop the bedside dresser, watching and scowling as Luna sleeps.

Every night before we go to sleep my husband sets out his prescription painkillers for the next morning. Three of them. This morning he woke me up. There was only one on the edge of the dresser, balancing precariously.

I'm pretty sure Guiliani knocked them onto the floor and Luna ate them. Because LUNA EATS EVERYTHING.

What do signs of narcotic overdose look like in a 75lb Siberian Husky?

We aren't sure when said acts happened. Isaac came into my room about 4am and I got up to take him back to bed. At that time Guiliani jumped off the bed and Luna chased him out of the room. Nine times out of ten, I don't put my glasses on to stumble the 10 feet to Isaac's bedroom from my own. So I don't know if the pills were on the dresser then. However, Luna came back up to the bedroom after a quick jaunt into the yard and wolfing down some food (munchies?!). Guiliani did not. Why return to the seen of the crime?

Luna seems fine. I called the vet, and they assured me that a dog of her size could handle a few pills. I watched for any signs of strange behavior, but for Luna that would mean behaving and being calm. None such behavior was seen today.

And I am pretty sure that upon seeing Luna reenter the house this morning, Guiliani gave her a look that cleary said "What are you still doing here?!"

Tonight the pills will not be on the dresser. Just in case Guiliani takes another stab at offing Luna. .

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. 

A Three Year-Old Is the Best Birth Control EVER

At least mine is.

Before I say anything else, I LOVE MY SON MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD AND I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HIM.

However, he's driving me insane. His second year, the "terrible two's" were relatively uneventful. We skated through that year. There were occasional fits and tantrums. And then he turned three. Still not a big fuss.

Last month someone flipped a switch and replaced my little boy with a POSSESSED CHILD.

It's hard. And trying. There's alot of crying by him and me.. He's pushing buttons and limits. He's throwing fits. It's like walking on eggshells. Sometimes when I do give him exactly what he wants, I don't give it to him HOW he wants it. Like milk with one ice cube in the orange cup with no lid. God help me if I don't get a portion of the request correct. Sometimes it's just easier to give him what he wants. Others I fight him on. I mean, that what parenting is, right? Making your kids hate you and feeling guilty about it?

The other night I asked Isaac what he wanted for dinner. He said he wanted a hot dog. "Two ones" to be exact. I said that he could eat one and then have another if he finished it all. He came back a few seconds later to ask for the second one. I asked where the hot dog went. "I gave it to Luna." Sigh.

This proceeded to happen with the subsequent grilled cheese. And green beans.

Finally, he seemed really excited to eat taquitos. I let him put them on the tray and put them in the oven. He watched them heat up through the oven door.

And then he bit into one, decided it was too hot, inedible and gave it to Luna. (Note: at this point Luna has had a lovely dinner of hot dogs, grilled cheese, green beans, and a taquito. Isaac has eaten NOTHING.) I told him if he didn't eat the taquitos he would get a time out. He fed Luna another one. To the time out chair we went. He started crying. And saying he wanted his taquitos. So I brought him one, which he proceeded to throw at me. Score another one for Luna. I knelt down to give him a stern lecture, and HE KICKED ME IN THE FACE. He got spanked. Put in the bathtub, into pjs, and sent to bed with no dinner.

By the time he got sent to bed, he was no longer upset. He called out to me about 20 minutes after I had tucked him in. "Mama! I'm hungry!"

This is where my heart started to break. I was torn between my motherly instinct to feed my hungry, crying baby and sticking to my guns to prove a point. A point that I wasn't even sure he was old enough to understand. He came downstairs, crying and I held strong. He went back up to his room and I could hear him crying and saying he was hungry. By the time Ben got home, he was quiet and I was the one crying.

What was I supposed to do? Ben talked to him. Told him what he did was bad and he couldn't behave that way. We eventually caved and gave him goldfish pretzels and cheese.

This scenario, along with others and the overall attitude of my child these days, has made me understand why people either space their children out by more than 3 years or have more before the first hits 3. It's mentally, emotionally, and physically EXHAUSTING. I am so drained, I have absolutely no desire to even think about having another child until Isaac is well past this age.

Boot Camp

This weekend is Boot Camp at my house. Not the physical kind, cause Lord knows I don't run (unless someone with a machete is chasing me). I am talking about Isaac's Potty Training Boot Camp.

I have heard from multiple mommies that this is the way to go. Isaac is so close, that I am hoping this weekend will cinch it for him.

The undies with Thomas the Tank Engine and Mickey Mouse have been bought. The waterproof crib liners are ready to be put on the furniture. There is a bucket of small prizes sitting by the potty.

Starting tomorrow morning, Isaac will wear underwear all day. Apparently the wet feeling of peeing yourself does the trick and will send him to the bathroom. I am really really REALLY hoping this does it. I am tired of buying diapers. He goes potty at school and at both his grandma's houses. Just not for me. I already have to clean up Luna's bathroom mishaps. I am kind of over changing the diapers too, when I know Isaac knows how to use the potty.

Fingers crossed that by Sunday night I will have a story of victory and not just a house that smells like urine.