Thursday, February 23, 2012

Dear little one

Dear little one,

Am I really too ambitious, thinking that I can teach and work on a dissertation, and handle a new born come June all at he same time? Maybe. But if I have to give any of the above up, it will not be you.

Today, I ran into the doctoral program adviser in the hall way. She asked me about my progress. Yes, yes, I am shaping up my topic. Yes, yes, I'm doing preliminary lit review. Yes, yes, I am forming a dissertation committee. "And how are other things going?" she asked, not that subtly indicating towards my growing belly, at you.
"It's going well," I said.
"Uh-huh. Is it going to cause problems?" ("It"? You know, "baby" isn't a bad word to use, even if we are standing in the hall way of an academic institution.)
"I've budgeted a couple months time for when the baby comes."
"Good. As long as you factored it into your timeline. What is this, your third?"
"Yes, my third."
"Jesus!" She reacted in a you-are-so-out-of-your-mind, this-is-too-outrageous-to-comprehend sort of way. And I wondered, is three the new twenty in academia?

I walked away after the brief exchange bitterly amused by it. School and motherhood is an uneasy mix. Balancing the two is challenging enough, it turns out that finding someone established within an academic organization who understands what parenting is about and how why a not-crazy-person might choose to become a parent is even more difficult. When you face a roomful of faculties who chose not to have children, how do you explain that you really only have two full work days a week because motherhood takes up the rest of the day AND night, physically AND mentally? How do you convey that sitting on a park bench watching children play for a couple of hours is a good use of your time? How do you help them understand a sick child or a school vacation day means no work time for you? How do you help them see that even though these are the cases, without your children, you will not be complete any more?

But never mind them. I look at your sisters, listen to their laughter, bask in the overflowing glow of love they shower each other in, and feel a joy and contentment that I cannot put into words. I feel your movements in me and cannot wait to meet you, learn more about you, and see you jump into play with your sisters. Yes, you are my third. You are not a roadblock. You are not an extra. You are not the "break" that needs to happen. You are my child, and you will be cherished just like my first and my second are. You will be (are already) loved with all of my heart.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Love is in the air

Monday, when I went to pick Evelyn up, a little boy whom she'd be in the same class with since summer before last came to her and gave her a prolonged, real, heart-felt hug while mumbling "see you tomorrow. See you tomorrow." I told him she won't be back the next day, but will be here again on Wednesday. He looked kind of sad. I wondered what that was all about.

Wednesday morning, as I busied myself helping Evelyn stuff her winter jacket onto her hook, I noticed that, out of all the empty mail boxes, hers were filled with drawings. I thought they may be her art work that I neglected to bring home of Monday, and I thought wrong. They were 11 stick figure drawings, all from the little boy, drawn especially for her. Eleven. Evelyn told me he would also like a play date.

Thursday morning, I got an email from the little boy's mom inviting Evelyn over for the play date.

Friday morning, I signed Evelyn in, looked up, and found the little boy, with his eyes already glued on Evelyn, asking her to go over. Behind him, their teacher looked over and mouthed the words "so in love!" After over a year of being in the same class, it seems like the boy has finally really seen Evelyn and been entranced. He gazed at her through lunch while she munched on without a clue, asking her questions like "Evelyn, do you like the color blue?" He talked and asked about her on the days when she wasn't there, and generally stayed by her when she is. It is very cute, this puppy love. But, you know, with an intensity that took me by surprise. I mean, it's been only a week and we're heading over for a play date already! Clearly not harboring just a slow burning fire, this one!

I am simultaneously amused and heart warmed and, I don't know, nervous about it. Love, could be a finicky thing. I wonder how long it will last and how it will all unfold. I hope it will remain as sweet and fun and harmless as my own first crush (at 7) was.

Monday, February 06, 2012

Lauren's world of purple

Lauren has a purple car. She drives this purple car with her purple key. And in this purple car is the purple blanket of her doggy (which I don't think is purple). She would drive this purple car to her park that has rides (aka Disney), or go to the doctor's to get her purple medicine, which she will take in her purple cup. Thankfully, this purple world happens only in her imagined world. When we sit down for dinner, I am still free to give her a yellow cup. Her sister used to have one regular imaginary character, Janey, that would assume the role of a sister, daughter, or a friend. But Janey always stayed within a story framework, and not into the physical world. Lauren's imagined details, now, have begun to spill over into real life. Yes, there were times when we can't clean up toys because doggy is still using them. But then...

I lay down with her at bed time the other day. It was cold, and I asked her to share a corner of her blanket with me.
"But you have a blanket," she told me, sitting up to point at my legs which are not under any cover that I can see.
"Where?" I asked, a bit confused.
"You have doggy's blanket. Doggy is sharing with you," she said, settle back into bed again and regathering every inch of blanket back to herself.
Right. "But I want the real blanket," I sounded whiny, but I was cold.
"You have the purple blanket. Green blanket is mine," the green one is the solid one that I can see, touch, and get to launder from time to time. The purple one is the cousin of the emperor's new cloth.
After much negotiating, she finally relented and generously let me have some real blanket on top of the doggy blanket. The greedy mommy, hogging TWO blankets.

Another such episode happened in the bathroom, because of course that's where everything takes place. This time she came in with me to use the potty. When it was my turn to go, she turned to open the door. I stopped her, and she said, very indignantly "but doggy has to go potty!" "Tell doggy to wait, she can go after me." I'm getting good at this. When it was doggy's turn, we left the room and closed the door so doggy can have some privacy that I didn't get to enjoy. No, I was not jealous at all.