Step One

I've realized from looking at some of my old posts that I have been stuck for quite some time. And I'm not making any promises here, but I've got a long way to go and I know that I'll probably slide back a few times, but I've got to try harder than I'm doing now.

Tree of Knowledge suggests learning to let go and she's right. I can't keep thinking that I'm gonna be able to do everything. That was one of the problems I had right after babe was born. I kept thinking that I should be able to be the same person I was before babe. What does that mean? That person stayed up until 2 or 3 in the morning, making lecture notes, reading comp theory, Kennth Burke, grading papers, making 'fun' games, and watching alien abduction shows. A really dear professor told me that one of the worse things I was doing to myself was trying to hold on to that old person and not allowing this new person to take over. I can't stay up and do that anymore, that doesn't mean that I can't still go back to school or be a good teacher or writer or researcher, but it just means I've got to do things differently now. Maybe, just maybe I can be better organized now, because babe has forced me to be organized, in her own little disorganized way.

So, I once had another professor who kinda went crazy, but was actually always really good to me and DH, tell me once that the most difficult thing is deciding what you want to do. After that, all you have to do is to make a plan and then put everything in action. So, thats what I'm working on now, deciding what I want to do. I've got some ideas...but for those of you who know me so well, I'd like to hear what you think.

1. Stay where I'm at (location wise) for the next year or two. Babe needs stability and I do too with babe. Plus, we've put too much time and effort into county house to just abandon it. I feel like I can be nutured in this environment and thats what I need before I launch into a doctoral program.

2. Take a class in the Spring. I need to just get back into the 'practice' of writing and I'm lucky that there just happens to be a wonderful class being offerred in the Spring that I can take.

3. Create a good teaching portfolio. I need one regardless for grad school or for Instructor-ship positions.

4. Make a new CV. I never really made one in the first place. Any good suggestions of format?

5. Try to write for a conference paper call, or submit to a journal. And I mean really doing it, not just saying that I am and then not following through with the work.

6. Figure out why and how I teach. I need a teaching philosophy that states more than, "I use a collaborative rhetorical process approach."

7. Do some volunteer work again, I need to step outside of myself.

8. Start to think about what I really want to study and write about for 5 years of my life.

9. Keep blogging. This is about the only writing I do on a regular basis and it helps. A lot.

10. Wait to begin numbers 1-8 until I'm settled into county house. Its hard to work when you are living out of one room.

The Mask

I'm feeling like I need to wear a mask. I'm hiding.

From myself.

I'm feeling lazy and downtrodden and just sick of it. I want to be in my house. I want my clothes to be clean and straight. I want to be able to eat when I'm hungry and fix good meals. I want to be able to read again, to write again, I want to be hungry again, not for food but for knowledge of self.

I used to know what I wanted, and when I'd figure out something I'd work for it. But this year, I've had so many obstacles and distractions that I've let myself go.

I can't do this shit no more. I write and complain so much and feel like an idiot when I go back and read what I've written, because the power is in my hands. I have the ability to choose and work towards whatever my goal is. But I'm lazy about it, I'll be honest, its me.

So that's why I'm wearing this mask, because now I've got to decide who this person is underneath and what she's done to herself, is doing, and where she's gonna go next.

Making some changes, making a list, checking it twice

Got lots done today:

hair cut
manicure/pedicure
lunch with DH and babe
some christmas gifts for the babe
paid bills
balanced check book
new list for county house
*finally* changed my address with dmv
figured out i can really do whatever in the hell i want about school/work/etc

Got more to do tonite:

another list for county house
finish laundry
watch Law and Order
relax
think more about what in the hell i want to do with school/work/etc

I had to go to the DMV today to change my addy and stuff and while I was there I saw so many young (we're talking 15-17 years old and I know this because they were talking about being in high school) with babies. Young girls with babies, its nothing new and in some ways its an 'old' issue and one that doesn't get as much attention anymore, but it just got me to thinking. There should be programs out there for these girls. Maybe there are and I just don't know about them. But these are the ladies who need prenatal yoga and massage, how frucking stressed would you be at 15 with a baby on the way? They also need to know how to learn to give themselves the respect they deserve so they aren't out in the street trying to find it.

I know how hard it is to have a babe in a committed relationship. I can't imagine if I had to do this alone, and if I were 10 years younger.

>>>>Keep up the Thinking<<<<<

The Confessions of a Nervous Mum

Its not something that I'm super proud of or anything, but I am a worrier. I do it like breathing, it just comes natural to me. I see to always find myself stressed out or worked up over something. The past couple of weeks its been work and school. Before the babe was born I was thinking that I'd be easily studying and applying to go to grad school for next fall. I had no idea that I would still not be getting any sleep with her being 6 months old nor did I think I'd be at a point where I'd much rather read Good Night Moon than bell hooks.

But I am. I'm trying to take this time to do what my own mother suggested, reorganize my thinking and try to figure out exactly what it is that I want to do and then create some type of plan for those goals. But I'm finding myself getting very nervous.

I want to go back to school. I want a PhD and a tenured job. But I'm scared shitless. I have friends in programs right now and they don't have kids and seem to be having a hard time. I don't want the babe to suffer because I still get a kick out of pedagogy, reading, resaerch, and trying to tie together random bits of knowledge that no one else seems interested in. I want to have more kids, well maybe just one more. How do we as women work for this balance?

I'm not willing to sell my soul or sacrafice my family for career, but I still want career too, I guess I'm just going at this in a different way. How can I work towards my goal with my little one still being my primary focus.

I'm calling on all you ye ole Phd-ers and mums and who-ever else has something to say about this to help me out.

How do I create balance? How can I work towards getting myself back in a program now? How can I be competitive, but at the same time show my daughter that you can't be a super-woman, just a woman who tries to do it all, damn that don't even make sense to me.

Help.

Run on for a long time...

I'm really into Johnny Cash now. I've been listening to his cds for the past 1 or 2 years. DH and I got reintroduced to him through Elvis. We watched a special on Elvis a couple of years ago and then became really into his music. I think I just passed him off as 'Elvis' not really understanding the impact he made to the music world. I know that I used to be pretty biased when it came to music from that time period just because I'd always been told that Elvis 'stole' music from black folks and pawned it off as his own creation. Now, while I don't know if he did that intentionally or not, what I do know is that there were probable black folks who were doing that kind of music but didn't get the same amount of attention or play because they were black folk.

Now back to Cash. There's just something about his music that takes me back to being a child and listening and watching my Pa-Pa when he would listen to the radio or his CB 'talkie' as we called it. My Pa-Pa was a truck driver and always had a CB radio in his trucks. I would beg him to let me sit in the truck with him, I'd climb up on the leather sits, feet not touching the floorboards decorated with Yosemite Sam. Then I'd wait patiently for him to tune into a station and start talking. This was probably my first introduction to a language other than English. I would get him to talk and then translate to me what the others were saying. Some of the conversations were probably not at all appropriate for me, but when he would tell me how the truckers would be looking around for a place to eat, or talking to one another about the weather or traffic. I loved listening, it was like they had their own little world and with that their own way of communicating. The thing I really enjoyed was the secrecy that surrounded the language because no one else knew how to speak this except my Pa-Pa and the voices that came out of that box.

I found this website that has some CD slang.

This wooly bear is gonna truck it easy on down to the county house, got work to do 10-17there today. Hoping that the 10-17 down there goes well.

10-10.

Da easter Bunny

When I was in elementary/middle school (grades K-8, because in Catholic School thats how we did it) I performed in musicals. We had a music teacher who loved doing fall and spring productions. You had to be in the choir to participate and I because I was totally overzealous and liked to participate in everything, I was in most of the musical productions.

We did everything from Fame, to The Easter Bunny Who Couldn't get Sold, To the 'Greatest Gift'. We even had costumes. Well, sort of, most often they consisted of the choir wearing black pants and white blouses, or white pants and red blouses. You get the picture. One year I remember we did a particularly big number for our School's Spring Festival where we sang the theme song from Fame and then did a medley of Gershwin. At the time, it was just fun, and something to do. But looking back at it I can see how our choir director was really introducing us to all sorts of different music, and that was good for a school that had a majority of poor african-american kids.

We would practice like everyday after school for weeks. Singing, learning dance moves, and practicing our cues.

I have a confession to make: I never sang a note. I would lipsync the entire time because i was too afraid to sing, but loved being on stage.

One of those things that makes you go, hmmmm.

68.2

I am still very angry. We contacted the police in the county and they told us that things like that hardly ever happen in that area. That doesn't make me feel any better. And I know that this could happen anywhere and it does, but that don't mean very much until it does happen to you.

I also found out that my uncle believes the folks who approached him live in that neighborhood, what a welcome wagon introduction. How am I supposed to feel comfortable now. I do worry and thats something I've never felt before about a place where I live. I've felt uncomfortable in certain neighborhoods, but never fear.

And I also know that I shouldn't let someone have control over me like that, but I can't help it. There is so much on me right now, I don't feel like I have a choice, I'm scared and I'm angry.

I should be reading papers right now, but instead I've been doing some research on hate crimes. According to the Stats provided by the government, in 2005 there were 4,691 hate crimes that were reported as being racially motivated, of those, 68.2% were anti-Black.

As much as I want to say that things are good, better, whatever, I just feel so stiffled and filled-up right now. I want to believe that we as a country our headed in a positive direction, but with numbers like this, I don't know. What's the problem? What's the solution?

The problem is so large and the solution, I don't even know where we'd start until we can truly define the problem and how we got here. But you got too many folks now days who don't want to acknowledge the past, who think that because we are 'free' we should be thankful and just move on about our lives. That's a good part of the problem right there.

According to these stats, in 2005 VA had 295 hate crimes reported.

Where am I gonna raise my daughter?

I guess the question isn't so much where, as it should be how will I raise her, because by the looks of things this kind of ish is happening everywhere.

I just don't feel safe or comfortable.

Beef

" Some beef is big and some beef is small, but what ya'll call beef is not beef at all, beef is real shit happening everyday..."

-> Mos Def

Today at county house shit hit the fan. My uncle is working and doing most, if not all, of the remodeling on the inside. He's African-American. Believe me, that will be very relevant info in a few sentences. He drove out to the house like he has been for the past 4 weeks he's been working there. Two white men in a pick-up truck followed him, pulling out from around a corner in the subdivision. They drove to the house and parked and got out when he did. The conversation that ensued went something like this,

White man: What you doing 'round here?

Uncle: Working on this house.

White man: We don't want none of your kind round here.

Uncle: What are you doing bout mayne?

White man: I got kids in this neighborhood and I don't want your kind around here, I'mma call the cops.

Uncle: I can save you the time and trouble, becuase I'm gonna call the cops on you! This ain't right, I'm here to work.

More stuff said, white man got back in his pick up and so did uncle and all drove away.

Its fucking 2006 and some bigots have the audacity to try to fuck my shit up? They have kids and don't want 'his kind' around? I got a kid and I damn sure don't want her to be round no racists ass shit. I know its inevitable, I know, I know, I know, that no matter where you live there is going to be some kind of ism, but its goddamn 2006 and someone has the nerve to pull up on some shit like this? I'm in awe. Just shocked.

But maybe I shouldn't be. I live in the South, I've had people scream racist shit to me and DH as we walked togheter to school, and that was like 6 or 7 years ago. We've gotten stares, not been seated at a restaurant, had folks purposefully not serve us, and even had 'family' try to run game on us.

I'm not letting someone fuck up my place, where I want to plant roots and nuture my family for right now.

No.

How can they try to have me running before I even get there?

Me list!

Well, while I've not read the 68 essays that need to be read by morning I'm about 10 slides away from being done with my presentation and I've made a list of all the things I need to complete by the end of the week. Now, that list doesn't mean too much, but it does at least get the shish out of my head and into me cute little orange notebook.

The babe is still sleeping and so is her dad.
Better finish this up before they both arise and proclaim the necessity of my presence!

Let them eat cake or mustard, or Mrs. Dash, or, or something...just let them eat

I have found a new place to work here in my parent's house, the kitchen. Now, normally this wouldn't work because there would be a ton of folks in here cooking, eating, or watching TV, but tonight mom's not home from work yet, dad is napping, and babe and DH are in the living room. I am supposed to be working on a presentation, but finding it hard to do it. I would rather eat or blog.

My attention span is shot. I have a hard time focusing on any one activity and the ONLY thing that is motivating me to work on this presentation right now is the fact that tomorrow is my last day doing it!

Okie, I'm gonna play a little game with myself, I'll see how much I can get done in 1 hour.

BRB

progress

Well, we now have pipes in county house and door too! Its hard to believe, if you looked at the house now you'd be like, this is not that bad, it couldn't have possibly been as bad as you say, but oh yes it was!

Its almost 2:30 and I have not gotten much accomplished at all. Woke up at 9:30 with babe, watched some Seasame Street and then climbed back in the bed around 11:00AM and now I'm just getting up. I don't feel too guilty though because babe didn't go to bed until 2 last night.

I'm not letting myself stress over her sleepin habits today, as long as she does get some rest and eats and poops and pees, I'm happy.

Now I'm working on my final presentation for the little prep writing class I'm teaching, I'm so glad that's almost over and done with.

I gotta say, today is a good day.

saturday morning special

I'm feeling a bit better today, last night was kinda rough, and the post reflects that. I think that I was feeling tired and angry. This morning though, I woke up to a happy smiling babe in a cute purple pj suit with 'feet', warm waffles, oj, and family talking and moving about.

The county house is getting new doors today and more paint. Hopefully on Monday it'll get water, lol.

The babe is napping and quite happy with herself because on Wednesday she started to sit up on her own. Yesterday she turned six months old. I keep telling myself I just had her, and now she can sit up on her own, throw toys for attention and grunt when she poops. Time flies.

I'm also working on some of the much needed school work that I needed to do while I have some quiet time.

Not bad.

what you eat don't make me shit

Why do I care so much about what other people think?

Family, friends, random folks. I once knew a girl who didn't care about those things. I knew her and she would listen to whatever music she pleased, she would bop her head as she walked around in thrift store finds and a tape player when er-body else had a cd player. She didn't care.

And the turth is, that girl still doesn't care, but she doesn't care in another way now. An almost haphazard way.

I want so badly to get back to doing and working and just feeling good about myself and things. I want that, but then some days its just a struggle. I feel so far behind. With everything. I thought that I'd be together by now, but so much shit happened, and here we are.

****
"sounds like a love song," "i gotta make the song cry"
-Jay/Z

I feel like I gotta make my blog cry. My post last night, when my bro read it, said that it made him want to cry, and thats just how I was feeling. I wanted to paint a picture that was pretty, but sometimes things are so pretty and so beautiful that they make you sad.

I remember when, not even when I was little, but when I would go to my gma's house and sit around on the bed, finding a small space to try and sit down because er-body was up in there. On a Friday nights like this, we'd all be in and out of my gma's room. Eating, snakcing, laughing, and I can't even recall a specific conversation. I mean, it wasn't so much about what we said but it was just the fact tht we were all together. We would laugh at each other, rehash all the problems and difficulties we'd faced that week and gma would find a way to sort them all. If one of us was too quiet, she'd say, "Now, what on your mind?" And the shit that really gets me, is that she meant it, she wanted to know exactly what you were thinking, and if she didn't get it the first time around, she'd go through and have you explain again. Then, she'd repeat what you said, and she'd understand. She really would.

I think we are all missing that, we're missing having that one person who could keep us all together.

Last week, I went to my gma's house for the first time in months and it made me so sad. So sad, and not much has changed, but one significant thing had, the smell. My aunty now burns candles in the house, and my granny would have never done that. She didn't belive in lighting 'fires' in the house when you didn't have to. But now the house smells like sweet candles. Not like my sweet granny.

And I know that things have to change, I know what happens when you don't allow yourself to move past a certain stage, you never get a change to move past the pain, but I'm so afraid of not remembering.

"I know you can hear me now, for the record, I love you,"
mary-j

Pretty Memories

On the first of the month, when my aunty and granny would get the food stamp booklet in the mail, we'd all pile in the back of an old Buick and go to the grocery store. We would have been eating cornflakes and hamburgers for the last week of the month and would be eager to have some new flavor on our palates.

My granny would take one cart and my aunty another. Mostly my bro and cousins would follow my autny around in the grocery store because we knew she'd get the good stuff. My granny would get potatoes, meat, bread, peanut butter, juice, eggs, butter, lunch meats, waffles, syrup, and cereal. My aunty would get cookies, chips, lil'debbie snack cakes, and drink*.

We'd plow through the line with our two carts, not understanding what food stamps were, except for a way to get something good to eat. Not paying attention to the looks we'd get from other customers as we loaded froozen pizzas, ice cream, and candy bars onto the register's belt. See, we hadn't learned words like handout, welfare, liberal, conservative, poverty. We just knew that these brightly colored notes were our tickets to Count Chocula and powerded donoughts.

Our food stuff from my autny's cart would be gone by the end of the week. A bag of chips left opened on the table would allow the chip crumbs inside to turn soft, the kind that melt on your tongue without any drink. The cookies would all be gone, except for the vanilla creme ones that no one liked, and the drink would have been downed in a day.

But what would remain would be the meat and bread and peanut butter my granny brought, and she'd find a way to get in you, especially if you were hungry, and even more so if you were hungry but just didn't know it.

What would remain was knowing that there would always be something to eat, thanks to her resourcefulness and planning.

We always had the cornflakes. And if you wanted a sweet treat, you put sugar on them. But just enough to sweeten the milk a bit.

Pretty memories.

This number has been disconnected.

My mom and dad's phone got disconnected. From the folk who pay bills way before dem thangs is due.

I know we've hit a bottom.

Like oh, my gosh, Becky, can you believe this? This is like so whack, they like don't have a phone. Oh my gosh, are they like poor? Or like stupid?

No, its called we just have let shit go. But don't you worry, these is just technical difficulties.

We gone get it together.

no words and all words

I'm feeling a lot of different things today and I'm too tired to put full words and sentences around the feelings, so pardon me while I clear my throat with splurges:

-guilt. had to teach all morning and then work all evening, still working (kinda, bit of a break). as a result the babe had to get lugged around with me, feel bad she didn't get to do her normal rountine, had to be outside a bit too much. worried about her cold.

-tired. so. tired. work at the county house. work at my parents house. just work. but can't get ahead. would take me a solid week of working to get ahead. not even talking about housework, but being caught up on the bills and balancing our spreadsheets for all these home repairs.

-work. did i mention i have an article STILL to write? and cfps that i would really like to respond to? and that i'd like to take one class in the spring, but damn if i can't keep shit together now, how can i do it with a class and teaching? and the fact that i want to write...so badly...again.

-eating. not eating the way i should. DH needs to eat better, we need to do it for the babe and we need to exercise. i hate exercise. no i don't. i hate not having the time to do it. i hate making excuses.

-anger. i get angry at myself. at mil. at random people. for no reason. no, i take that back, i do have a reason, most of the time its because of myself.

-county house- ugh. county house. where fore art thou county house. i know where you are, and its coming along slowly but surely, but so slolwy. oh so slowly.

Another week with so much to get done. I need to get organized. i have 3 calendars i'm working with. and none of them work.

Guess who I am for Holloween?

The boogy. woogy. wonder woman

coming clean

I got a much needed haircut yesterday, a total of 3 inches. This is the shortest my hair has ever been and I'm really enjoying it. I've never been one to really put too much into hair, makeup, etc but sometimes its just fun to be pampered. I really wanted to do something different with my hair so the stylist gave me a Chinese bob. I like it.

I realize my posts have been kind of sad, but it seems that as the holidays draw near I'm missing my gma so much more every day. I also went to a funeral last week, my uncle passed (also from cancer) and so I think I've just got death on my mind. Some days I have to fight myself to remember the good days I had with her, and not just her last 3 sick months. Its so hard, I never imagined it would be this way. But the one thing that makes it better is the babe.

Babe some how is intune to what I need. As much as I might think she doesn't understand, she certainly proves me wrong. At just over 5 and 1/2 months I'm in awe of how much she is growing and how smart she is, and I'm not bragging here. She enjoys music, reading, and flipping over. She is brilliant!

My haircut and the babe have actually made me feel much better these past two days. My head feels lighter and my heart warmer with her.

The county house is still being worked on...hoping that the plumbers will come this week and restore working pipes. Hoping the sheet-rocking will be done. Wanting to get more paint. Ooo! and order appliances.

The haircut has done me some good.

missing her.

Some times, since my gma passed, memories come at me out of no where. I can just be driving and all of sudden one will rush over me. Today it happened and it hurt. I was driving down to county house to meet some workers when all of a sudden it just hit me that I hadn't been to my gma's house in well over a month, longer probably. That used to be unheard of. I would go at least once a day, at least. Its hard for me to go now, its even hard for me to drive in that direction. It hurts.

When I have hard or difficult memories, I try really hard to wash the bitterness away with something happy. Last week when this happend and it really started to get at me, I was walking downtown and I just started to think about how many trips my granny and I took down there. On Fridays it was like a treat. We'd take the bus, leaving home around 9 or 10 in the AM and go downtown to pay her bills and just look around. We'd have lunch at the counter of Murphy's and then be back home in time for her stories on TV. Something so simple, but I have it forever.

Today, when it happened I started to think about Sesame Street. Every morning when my mom dropped me off at gma's before she went to work, thats what I watched. Then I'd have a snack, maybe a nap, play outside if I could, and come back in to watch another afternoon episode of Sesame Street, 321 Contact, and whatever else came on PBS..

Here I am, 28 years old, and thats what I think about, those times I treasure. But there is much more, my gma did more than take me on the bus and let me watch TV, its the fact that those simple things were made so special by her. With her.

#453

I am tired.

I want to be in my bed, snuggled in warm pjs, with a good book and some hot chocolate and a really big cookie.

I am at work, in an office with no window (one day, maybe) and I need to read papers. I don't want to read papers.

Tomorrow I have to meet two contractors and hope county house does not fall in on itself, no more than it already has.

I am tired.

Or, in my drawl, "ty-erd".

Procrastination

I should be doing the following:

-finishing a powerpoint presentation
-working on a presentation
-reading a story to babe
-doing stomach crunches
-reading an article
-working on a business plan draft

What I'm doing instead:
-bloging
-reading blogs
-taking funny pics with my mac
-dancing with my bro
-dancing with babe
-eating rice pudding and drinking lemonaide
-not wanting to fill in my calendar for the week
-about to call my DH
-thinking bout taking a bath and reading
-thinking bout going to bed
-wondering why I don't get shit done

#345

This weekend has not turned out to be as productive as I needed it to be. With the long list I made the other day, I can honestly say that not much got done, except for taking care of a babe and loving a babe, which are necessities and fun too.

We went to county house and tried to work more, but that was hard, the former resident of county house is still there (sort of) and said party really didn't want to through away too much stuff. That makes it hard for us to have folks come in and do work and to clean up. But, we are making some process...two room are just about ready to be painted and the plumbers are supposed to start work this week. Hopefully, hopefully we'll be in just as the semester is winding down.

As for my own work, I did not read any papers, nor did I read or research. No surprises there.

I'm going to have to try a different way to get myself to actually get things accomplished. Maybe set smaller goals for each day? Instead of my two page long lists that I'm so fond of.
***

This week we've got more folks coming out to the hosue to work and I start with a 3 week presentation I'm doing for workplace writing/GRE prep. I've also got to prep for my comp class and find a way to remodel a bathroom. I also have to..I don't know what else I have to do.

Arg...

Frrrrrruckkk You

I've just been told that another member of my family has cancer and is dying.

Fuck you cancer.

If you remember, my grandma passed, two great aunts, a great uncle, now my uncle is dying in hospice. My mother-in-law finished her treatements and we are hopeful.

This is just ridiculous. There aren't even any words I have to describe what I feel. I keep doing research and reading and trying to learn more, but right now I can't even focus.

Just saying fuck you cancer

Let's get Organized

Must get Organized....

Okie, no need to panic just have hella lots to do....

1. Take care of babe
2. Take babe for holiday pics
3. Pick paint for rooms
4. Buy paint
Pick flooring
Write review for journal
Uh...read article that needs to be reviewed for said journal by Friday
Read mid-semester papers
Design a prep course for writing for professionals
Continue with VBAC research
Clean county house
Clean county house
Organize cleaning of county house
Sign up for running training
Find a way to get hair/nails done

Not to mention there are tons of articles I've been reading because of the research I've been working on that I hope to post here soon.

I'm a bit pissed because my laptom is a MacBook and I have Safari as the internet browser, Blogspot doesn't recongnize that and so I can't post links like I'd want to.

So they look like this:
http://www.newyorker.com/printables/fact/061009fa_fact

But that is a good article that I want to comment on...just not right at the moment because the babe just woke up and should be sleeping so I can write, but oh well...I'd much rather read Good Night Moon.

G'night

In my house...

County house is trying to break us, not financially, but mentally. We've been fortunate in that we have got some good deals for folks working on the house. We are trying to do a nice job with the restorations, but we don't have thousands of dollars to put in this. However, mentally I think we are all suffering because we don't have a home. We are staying with my parents, most of our stuff crammed either in the babe's pack-n-play or in my mom's old room. We haven't been able to cook a decent meal in months and can't run around in our underwear (babe included because my folks believe in having a babe dressed in layers).

I am hoping that things wil really start to come together after this weekend, the thing is I keep finding myself saying that. After this weekend we should have this done, after this weekend, this, and so on. But really, I am hoping that we can see some change after we work again this Friday and Saturday.

I can't complain too much though. My folks are letting us stay here without giving them any money and they do cook (lots of fried this and fried that, *smile* they are true southerners with their soul food). But I have to admit there has been something comforting about eating in that way. I started eating meat when I was preggers with the babe. Most days, early on, my taste was so off I didn't know what to eat. Then I found Subway's Turkey sub with cheese and LOTS of vinegar. Oh my Lord, I would eat them twice a day. Thus began my transition back into the world-o-meat. I still don't do pork or beef though. But my parents pretty much eat whatever. My mom fries chicken, fish, makes porkchops, roast, a little bit of er-thing.

The past few weekends when she's made chicken or fish, I 've found that my spirits have been higher and I think its because we do turn to food for comfort. And right now that is really what I want.

Wish I could get that served deli style.

visualizing meaning

In class a week ago, my Comp students and I discussed why visuals are so important. We 'see' pictures most often and not words when we are thinking. As we read we don't see the words in our heads, but instead are able to conjure images while we are reading that allow us to connect with the written word.

At Cornell there is a project that is asking professors to do this, to describe or show the most important diagram, or chart, or image that relates to what they do. It's called Visualizing Meaning and it looks really cool.

Any thoughts on what you'd use?

'tis be the Sabbath

Tree is talking about evangelist in her post right here and I can understand this. Around here at this University we often have a man who comes out (with a TV camara and recording equipment) and he shouts about Jesus and religiion and faith and why everyone should be non-denominational and believe in Jesus. Mmmm, sounds like there is definitley a denomination in there. What pisses me off is that the whole thing is so staged, its so much of a set-up that its not funny, but I fear many students get sucked into hearing him talk and end up wasting preciscious time arguing with the dude.

Religion in my family used to be a very private matter, until my brother left the church he was raised in and turned to an entirely different religion. My parents freaked and so did my grandma. They felt like he was turning against them. The sad thing is, this whole event could have been a wonderful way for them to learn more about another way of connecting to God and being a good person, but it just turned out to be ugly. Things are better now, but my bro does worry about who will come to his wedding, if he ever finds a bride. *lol*

Burrr

I'm not feelling well today. And I should be feeling good, today is the last day for two of my intensive classes which means I'll only have to teach one class twice a week in the evenings. As much as I was enjoying the ESL coureses, it was getting to be kinda hard not getting home until like 10M, then having to rush to get the babe fed and ready for bed (or to at least pretend she was going to bed).

So, I think I'm just plain ole worn out. We're still staying with my parents until the coutny house is done, which looks like it could still be another month, and both my mom and dad have had colds. That plus the fact that I'm just not sleeping like I should or eating like I should, has a lot to do with why I'm feeling crappy. My only wish is that the babe doesn't get sick. She has a bit of a cough now and some sniffles too, so I'm trying to be diligent about handwashing and not kissing those chubby little cheeks!

The other nite I had another little melt down, as much as I was all about keeping my eyes on the prize, I still have days where I just feel off. More like, I've fallen off. The other night I saw an old professor and he was like, whats going on, how are things, and I began to break out into a sweat. I just got so nervous because I thought I needed to talk to him about academic stuff and I just started babbling on and on because I really haven't done anything academic- I had a baby for Pete's sake. But at that moment I didn't see it that way, I was sweating and rolling my eyes around and looking trully like a feign. But what I didn't get was that really, I don't have to try and pretend that I'm all academia, there is more to me than just that. I'm a mom now, but for some reason, I just could not get that through my head last night.

I was talking with DH and bro about what happened and they both agreed: you have got to be honest with yourself about your place in life. And I've got to be honest with where I am right now, I'm a new mom, with a gorgeous 5 month old little girl who rightfully commands all of my attention for the moment. I have always had such a hard time with prioritizing, I'm really an all or nothing type of gal. So I think that what has happened now, is that I've thrown myself into the babe and feel guitly if I do anything non-babe related, i.e.:work, research, writing, reading papers, anything that is non-homemaker like. But what I fail to realize is that in order to be a good mother I've also got to be a good woman. Its easy to get lost in the world of diapers and wipes, but I hope that can show my daughter that there is a way to create harmony, maybe not balance because that suggests that everything is equal, while harmony shows that things can coexist. You can't do it all, thats just the bottom line.

For now, I need to focus on feeling better and getting rid of this cold. Then, I've got a house to get in order. I also need to draft a new CV, and work on some CFPs. Oh, and the babe and I got a new toy today! Stacking rings, that's first in order.

Eyes on the Prize

My post was gonna be all about how angry I was because I happened to look at the blog of a person who is in grad school and who is reading stuff I read like 3 years ago and the person is actiing all like this is the best stuff in the world and is all brand new. So I was gonna be all angry and upset and pissy because I was feeling like I should be reading that stuff and writing that stuff because I did that stuff a while ago. So, that was what my post was gonna be. Anger and jealously. But I've decided to redirect my energies.
***

Sometimes I spend so much time reading what other people are doing and thinking about what people are thinking about or trying to think about what they are thinking about me, that I just waste time. Tonite, my bro set me straight. I mean he really did and I needed it. This ain't no time for being focused on what other folk is doing (or saying they doing) this is time for me to do what I need to do.

I've been watching 'Eyes on the Prize' tonight (you can find out more about this program on pbs.org) and it never fails to motivate me. I remember watching this show when I was a kid in middle school. Grades 4-8 piled in a room (I went to a small prodimatley Black Catholic School) and so we could easily fit into one large classroom. We watched the entire series, its basically about the African-American struggle. I didn't realize how important it was for me to know and learn about it, but I always felt good when I watched it and just didn't know why. Now I know that what I was feeling was a connection, a connection to the struggle and to others. While in no way do I think my life even compares to the way folks struggled before, but nowdays things are just different. The issues of race and class are so blurred. Some of my friends who aren't brown folk have experienced many of the same things I did because of class, but there is are still race/color issues. But anyways, when I watch this show I just always had this since of pride and feeling good about where I came from and who I came from. I would listen to stories from my grandma about how when she was a child Jim Crow was rampant. White folk would give little Black boys a penny or two to sit in a window and eat watermelons and peanuts. Schools shut down in her town because folk did not want to integrate.

We have come so far, but have such a long way to go.

Because of all these setbacks and injustices we just have so far to go. I'm thinking bout how we sent our kids into schools to try to integrate and how there would be riots. Riots. Riots, because little girls and boys would go to school. Now there are riots in our schools- us against us. Ridiculous. We are so lost in so many ways, and I don't know how we can get back on that road again- my guess is that it starts small. Hell, I'm feeling lost so let me start with myself.

So, instead of bitching and moaning and complaining and being a hatah, I'm not gonna put that energy out there. I'm gonna put good positive energies out there, and think about folks like Malcolm, Martin, Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglas, the Blackstar, and more local- my granny, my grandpa, those folks who made it even possible for me to be doing what I do.

And made it possible for me to keep dreaming and working towards doing even more.

You da Mama

When she is screaming and feet flying...
...I'm da Mama

When her mouth is sore from teeth prying...
...I'm da Mama

When she has been up for 12 hours straight...
...I'm da Mama

When her diaper is full and cannot wait...
...I'm da Mama

When she has to have milk and her brow is furrowed...
...I'm da Mama

When I got to get papers graded, an article read...
...I'm da Mama

When she need to be feed...
...I'm da Mama

When I got groceries to unload, dishes to wash, a call to make...
...I'm da Mama

When she make that soft cry, that I know is fake...
...I'm da Mama

When she don't sleep, fights a nap, and drops off noddin' in my lap...
...I'm da Mama

When she sit on my lap and watch my fingers as I type...
...I'm da Mama

When we lay on the bed and roll over on our tummies...
...I'm da Mama

When we stand outside and watch the sky above...
I feel so much love. I hold her. I hug her. I keep her tight.
I'm da Mama.

The babe is becoming more mobile. For the past 3 weeks she has been rolling herself over. She does this every oppotunity she gets, its especially fun when changing a poopy diaper.

Tonite, I'm feeling lonely and sad. We are rushing around like mad to get the county house in order so we can move in. My classes are moving slow and I'm missing not being in school. More than anything, I'm missing my granny. She would have been able to help me prioritize house stuff and she'd have known just what to do to soothe the babe's gums from teething. I miss her awful. My bro and cousin were talking about her tonite, just how she always knew just what to do and to say. Her cancer made the last 2 months of her life so horrid, bit she stayed so strong and beautiful to the end. She had to be the strongest person I've ever met in my entire life.

I feel like I need to do something to really honor her life, her legacy, but I'm not sure what. I've been thinking of organizing a walk or something, just something to do. I felt so helpless for her at the end and I miss her so much now, I just need to do something.

And on rainy nights like this, when everyone is sleeping or busy I think of her even more.

The babe keeps me going though it never fails that on nights when I feel really alone, she always either wakes up or stays up and we end up dropping off to sleep together, that helps me not to feel so alone.

Babe is fussing now so I must tend to her.

Just switched to the beta blogger

...does anyone know the difference? i see that i can now attach lables....kewl.

Things I have Learned

This is the end of two of my courses for this semester, I was teaching two intensive English Writing Classes. I want to take some time to write about what I've learned and what I think I need to do to improve my teaching of these classes in the future:

1. Take more time to read the short stories ahead of time. Most of the students are non-native L2 or L3 speakers and they will need quite a bit of time to go over the stories we read.

2. Revamp my own way of thinking that you don't use literature to teach writing. This was something I picked up in grad school and it has stuck with me. That made it really difficult for me. I think I spent too much time sometimes talking about literature and too little time talking about writing. I've got to find a balance and have got to work on letting students know that this class while its focus is writing, is also about how to respond to literature.

3. Design more writing prompts that help connect thinking about writing and thinking about the stories.

4. Find a way to have office hours!

5. Spend more time talking about grammar within our papers, not with worksheets.

6. Give more background on the stories we read and contextualize them for students.

7. Bring in outside articles and have students write responses.

8. Make sure students understand what the class is about before they even begin.

9. Find a way to use more technology.

***On a more personal note***

-Prep for two to three weeks, have backup assignments in case the English of the students is not exactly what was expected.
-Writing games/activites
-Grammar presentations
-Presentation on the stories by students

Don't teach two long classes back to back. You have a babe now and you are way too tired once you get home.

Pump plenty before class so your boobs don't look and feel like cantelopes.

Uhh.

I just feel uhh. I am tired and extremely discombobulated. I don't know if I spelled that correctly and I'm too lazy to do spell check.

There is much still to be done with the house and it gives me a headache. We've been using a uhaul truck almost every weekend to pack and move things around to and from storage. Plus we still have to help DH's mom move this weekend.

Not to mention I still have a zillion things I have to do for work, its hard.

Uhh.

Post-post Confession

But.....sometimes I do feel guilty because I think I should be able to do *all*

all =s babe, husband, family, teach, research, write, study for GRE, go to Grad school, obtain PhD, write more, teach less, become a special CNN correspondant for International Language Politics.

But some days I'm doing good if I can take a shower.

How do other women/men deal with this? Sometimes I just have to tune myself out.

Going to order the _Mommy Myth_ book....well, gonna put that on my list.

Bad Pooh-Pa

The babe has been having pooh-pa like crazy. (Translation- bowl movements, I just think pooh-pa is so much cuter and so does she because she laughs when I say, "Did my babe just have a pooh-pa or a wee?) Its amazing how much your vocabulary changes with children. A year ago I was saying things like, "through the application of Burke's theory of terministic screens, we can deconstruct.." I think the later statement was filled with more pooh-pa than the babe's diaper.

She is teething and has a bit of a belly upset so that accounts for the pooh-pa.

In my last post I asked about writing and finding time to do my 'work'. Well, you know what I've discovered? Some things don't work like they used too. At one time I taught 6 undergraduate classes (5 comp, 1 lit, and 1 volunteer ESL). Now, I'm teaching 2 paid ESL, 1 comp, and trying to get back into the swing of writing. Its not working. So, I'm stepping down from some of my teaching duties (now just teaching 1 comp) and focusing on moving us into our new house and then working on getting the writing thing going again. I've become much better at balancing since having the babe.

I can totally understand what Tree is going through over at Cheese & Responsibility

I'll call mine, The Stages of Super Woman Overextension

1. I can: wash clothes, feed a babe, pump milk, make breakfast, read papers, post assignments, prepare notes for a meeting, take babe for a walk, record favorite TV show, make grocery list, hire a plumber, find a trustworthy carpenter, research buying a new car, and take a shower before 2 PM.

2. It's 2 PM, I have feed the babe, pumped milk, but have not quite made it out of the bedroom because the babe wants to be really cute and show me how she can roll over and over and over and stick fingers in her mouth. Finding a way to pee when the babe has become mobile takes me at least 2 hours. Its okie, I still have 2 hours before class.

3. Its 3PM, now I panic. I've had no shower, my hair is standing on end (babe looks at it funny), she has been fed again and re-diapered and is happy. I have no notes for class. I didn't make groceries. I think I forgot to eat. Babe needs to eat again. Need more diapers.

4. Time for class. Who wants to write about diapers and wipes?
I'm sweating. Did I put on deodorant? My hair is not behaving. My notes are scattered. I ate gross nuggets and too-sweet tea.
I wonder what the babe is doing.

5. Fuck it, my babe was fed, happy, and I actually got us both out of the house in one piece.

6. I have some time in between classes. I'm reading other blogs. People out there have kids and manage to work, have successful academic careers and families. What the hell is wrong with ME?

7. I call to check on the babe. She is good. I miss her. Daddy says she is eating her fingers and smiling.

8. I try to research for the article I'm working on. I look at babe's pic on my laptop and miss her horribly. I feel guilty. I should be at home with her. I should not make her drink from a 'baba' she should be with me at all times! I want me babe!

9. I see an old grad school friend, she is getting a PhD now. I have stopped my studies for babe, I am good with this, but she makes me feel like I should be able to do it.

10. I'm o.k. Class is almost over. I get home around 10 PM, babe is up and happy. She and I will play until the wee hours of the night and then try again tomorrow.

This is why my lists get longer as the week goes on because I can never quite finish everything. The old me would try hard to do so, I would even cry if I couldn't. But not the new me. The real *super* woman. I realize that my priorities are the babe, myself, and DH. That's it, everything else is just frosting, if the cakes are good the frosting I can wing.

I am re-thinking my plans. I thought I'd try grad school next Fall, but instead I think babe and I might learn a new language, I also think I'll build a play set, I've always wanted to use wood. I'm going to focus on family and my writing. Grad school can wait, for now the babe is in command.

Question:

How do you find time to write? I used to journal while the babe took naps, but she is refusing to nap now. And I need to get an article ready for review, write a book review, and try to pretend that I can write a paper on race and young African-American women.

Umm. Help.

Any suggestions? How do you carve out time to write when you have so many projects....I really need help.

Did I also mention I'm a BIG procrastinator.

Yes. Help. Please.

Run, Run Part II

I'm thinking more about leaving and what it means to leave and come back, and what a 'home' is and where it is. I'm staying with my parents now because the county house is not ready yet. It will probably be a good month to two months before we can get in there. Much plumbing, painting, and fixing needs to be done. I'm looking forward to that, sort of. I have huge Basquiat paintings that I was given last Xmas and I'm going to have them framed and put them in the hallway and my 'library'. Yeek! I do get a library.

This past summer I was still thinking that I was going to try and study and take my GREs this fall and try to apply for school again. In my mind I was going to be able to achieve this because babes are supposed to sleep for like 12 hours a night, and take 2 3 hour naps a day, and I wouldn't be digging myself out of sewage or refurbbing a home that hasn't been touched in 20 years. But, as I have learned--when we make plans, God shows us who the boss really is. I'm learning, I'm learning.

I do have so much that I need to do and work on in order to leave, maybe I just wasn't ready yet. When I think about the things I've gone through this year, all the sad and all the beautiful, I can see that things like school and moving are still in my future. I just have some other lerssons to learn first.

My PaPa died about 14 years ago and since that time he has often appeared to me in dreams. One of the most vivid came about a year ago. I was asking whether or not I should go to school and in the dream he showed me 2 roads. One was straight and clear and the other long and curvy and bumpy. He told me to take the long one, smiled, and nodded. Guess I'm not in for any shortcuts.

Babe is crying she wants to blog too. Or maybe its the milk she's after.

Tree makes me think about roots

So my dear friend Tree left a post about my my post yesterday, "Run, run," and tree said:

Tree of Knowledge said...
Re: "what if I don't leave?" It is a beautiul area, not a bad place at all to be rooted in.

You'll make it your own. there's no need to worry about that. It will happen without trying or thinking about it.

You know, the reason I'm afriad of staying is because I've equated staying here with being a looser. In my head, for quite some time, I've always felt that I needed to go away in order to make something of myself. When I was in high school all I could think about was leaving home. That was my sole drive my senior year. I applied to four schools: three in the state, and one in California. I got into all but one instate and I got into the school in Callie. I had no clue about financial aid, loans, or any of that stuff. I just knew my parents weren't gonna give me any money to go to school and unless I could find a way, Callie was going to be near impossible. So, I stayed here and I think that I really regretted that decision for quite some time. I always though that in order to 'make it' you had to leave, go away, then come back and 'show' folks what you had done with yourself. All of my examples of people who had 'made' it, were those folks who had left the area and then came back. I don't know. For so long DH and I have been saying that there just isn't anything here for us, opportunity wise, school wise, career wise. I've applied for several jobs in the area and not gotten any. DH has had a somewhat similar experience in that he doesn't feel like there is any room to grow. As far as education is concerned, there really aren't any places for me to further my school career around here. So what do I do? As much as I want so badly to leave and then come back and show people that I've 'made it' I gues I don't really know what 'making it' means anymore.

And I don't really know who I'm trying to show what to anymore.

My primary concern is babe. I want her to be in a safe, loving environment, where she can grow and thrive. Where is that place? And maybe I need to continue to work to find it.

Or maybe I'm running from myself....

Run, run as fast as you can....

In the weeks immediatly following my grandma's death, sometimes I 'd find myself in the car driving with no real destination. It was the strangest thing. I'd get up in the morning and just feel like I could not stay in my apartment. I'd pack up the baby bag, feed and dress the babe and then get in the car. I'd sit in the parking lot and try to find someplace to go. I usually ended up at the Chic-fil-a near my parents house. If it was before 10:30AM I would order a number 1, chicken biscuit and tots and an iced tea. If it was after 10:30, I'd order a number 2, grilled chicken sandwhich with fries and an iced tea.

I'd park in the lot, eat my food and then drive. I would drive in hopes that I could find a house for us to buy. I knew what I wanted, something small, cozy, with a large yard for the dogs, and a fireplace. I wanted like a coattage style or cape cod. I never found that house.

For the longest time I've been trying to find a place that just feels like home. I can't quite find a place that fits. I know now that I miss the space we (babe, DH, dogs and I) had in the apartment, not the actual apartment, but what I miss is just being able to move around in my own space. I miss fixing tea at 2 in the morning, or pizza, or walking around in my underwear. I miss sharing that space with DH and babe.

We are working towards getting the county house together, but it just doesn't feel like home. I think its because it still feels so much like the other person still resides there, and well she does. She also has not changed anything in over 20 years or so. I need to find ways to put my own touch on things.

None of this is happening the way I thought it would, but I never seem to be able to have plans that work that way, do any of us?

I'm afriad, even as I post about wanting roots that these might be my roots forever, what if I don't leave? The house feels heavy and I'm really wanting to find a way to make it feel different. Different from the first time I walked through the door and felt like I shouldn't be there. Different from the first time I drove past with DH and knew I wasn't allowed to be there. Different from how I imagined it when I didn't even know the person who lives there.

Everything just feels different. But how do I make different my own? I'm tired of running.

I swear, in another life I was a nomad.

We've moved. This past weekend, actually a week to this night, we were shoveling sewer water out of kitchen window. Trying to call our maintance man and trying to not let the nasty water get into the rest of the deparment. We worked for like two hours and no one ever called us back or came. So, we called the city, the health department, whoever we thought might be able to help. Nothing got done until 2 days after it had all started. Then, a day later the flooring in the living room began to bubble up. At first it just rose in a few spots, then, before we knew it, it looked like a giant ass earthworm was breaking through the floor boards. And, there was brown nasty water leaking out from all over the place. Gross.

So, we got out of our lease and our now living with my parents, sort of. DH is back and forth because our dogs our at his mom's house because she has a yard and my folks are NOT pet people.

I can count how many times I've moved and the all occur with a quickness. Like most folks move over a period of time and plan things out, not me. I usually find out I'm moving about an hour before it happens and then I have to be out. I am really good at packing though. And thanks to Glad trashbags, I always have plenty of luggage.

My first move happened about 6 or 7 years ago. I'd been living at home when I decided I just could not take it anymore. My dad and I have always had a very weird relationship. The problem is we are both just alike. Well, one night we'd both just had it with one another and I called him a dirty ole dictator and might have said a few other things, and then told him I was gonna leave. So, I called DH then DB and was out and gone in like an hour. I fled to my grandma's (rip) house and stayed there for about a year. I lived in a bunk bed with two drawers to hold all my stuff. I shared a room with my 13 year old cousin. It was rough. But I was so thankful to have a place to go that was calm and safe.

And now, I'm back where I was 4 years ago. In my bro's room, but this time with a babe. It makes it harder and its really hard because DH has to be up and down the road.

Did I also mention that I'll be moving again? We got a house in the county but its old and needs so much work that it makes my head hurt. I have no idea when we'll move again. Soon. I hope. I want roots.

Roots.

I think Common said it best, "I just wanna be, be."

One of my students gave me this quote...

And I've got to think about it and want to write about it...just no time today:

Think about the exit, before you even enter.

Rainy Day

Well, I've been meaning to post sooner, but I've been so busy. Between the baby, a busted kitchen sink, preparing to move, and teaching, I'm just plum-warn-oout.

But, I do have some interesting news. The great-aunt who passed, her funeral was two days ago. I wasn't able to attend, but my mom and aunt did. Apparently, folks have been digging around trying to find out more about our family's history. And guess what they have unearthed?! My great-great-grandfather was in the Confederacy. Shocking, but true. My great-grandma was mixed, her father was a White man who was clerk of the county and had a 'hushed' relationship with a Black woman.

I always wondered why I could whistle Dixie.

There is a lot I want to write and say and think about this. So I'm filing this one in my brain and on my blog as something to return to.

I am just going to say a Bad word

Fuck cancer.

I lost my grandma to cancer on June 20, a great uncle on July 14, and now a great aunt on yesterday.

Fuck cancer.

My mother-in-law just finished her last radiation treatment today.

Fuck cancer.

My grandfather lost his voice and life 14 years ago this July.

Fuck cancer.

My father had testicular cancer.

Fuck cancer.

I challenge and ask everyone to find a way to Fuck cancer.

Fuck you Cancer

I am Broke and it ain't No joke

For most folks who are adjuncts, or have been adjuncts, or work as TAs in grad school, or whatever you know what its like to be this broke. I'm just that broke. We have been without two checks since my maternity leave ended this summer and I am feeling it and NOT feeling it.

I'm too broke to publish a free blog post.

The First Day of School

Labor day weekend always brings back very fond memories for me. When I was in elementary school I loved planning my first day of school. As soon as August rolled around I'd start scanning the newspaper for binders, notebooks, and bookbag sales. Because I went to private school and we wore uniforms, the only flare I was allowed came by the way of the supplies I choose. The only problem, my mom wanted to buy in bulk and find value, I wanted to get the flashy cool stuff. Strawberry Shortcake pencils, glitter pens, Trapper-Keppers with puppies and kittens, these were my items of choice.

Once I had my school supplies, which it normally only took us a day to get them because I was quite anal and would not leave the store unless we had purchased everything on the school's list, I would take my supplies home and spread them out on the coffee table and sofa. I LOVED labeling my supplies. I would prnt my name on each item. And I do mean each item, even crayons, last name, first initial. I would put masking tape on each of my magic markers and then print my name on those. My mom would order labels from the locak five and dime and I'd watch as she ironed my name into my shirts, uniform jumper, and sweathers. I can stil remember how the uniform felt soft and worn because we'd buy used, in grades 1-3 I wore a white peter-pan collared shirt, and burgundy plaid jumper with white socks and burgundy shoes.

I would line up my uniform in order of how I'd put my clothes on. That meant that the jumper was last, the shirt on top, them my t-shirt, socks, underclothes, etc. My sweater and jacket would be by the door, shoes under the rocking chair with the clothes.

My lunch-box was another matter. In the early grades, my grandma would pack my lunch because I caught the bus from her house. She would pack whatever she knew I loved. This made for a very interesting lunch, some days I'd have hamburger patties on white bread with the edges of the bread neatly trimmed off, and a pat of mayo. Or, a ham sandwhich with the same neatly lined bread, small plastic bags of chips, a cold drink in my thermos and a twinkie. Once, I was so excited by my lunch that I ate the twinkie with the wrapper partially on. Yum.

I remember that I would pack my bookbag several times, trying to find just the right way to line up notebooks, binders, and the pencil box. Pack, unpack, pack, unpack, trying to get everything in and snug. To this day, I am the best packer in my family. I can work wonders.

The beginning of the school year was my favorite time of the year. I always felt like I could turn over a new leaf, make changes, become a new person, I felt like anything was possible as I began this new year.

I want to label crayons again. I want to turn over a new leaf. I miss my grandma.

I am my grandfather's granddaughter

My grandfather (on my dad's side) used to wrap his hair. For those folks who don't quite know bout this, Lucy, let me splain:

He was bald/balding (not exactly certain which state his hair was in) around the center of his head. However, he had very long hair around the sides and the back. Long and black. So what he would do was to wrap his hair around his head, all the way around to cover the balding front hairline and the center. Then, sometimes, or most of the times he'd wear a hat. So he kinda had a turban of hair.

I am now doing the same thing, my hair is thinning horribly because of post-partum hair loss.

I now don the turban-o-hair.

Rock on.

the rise of the phoenix

Today I ran into the store to get a few items to tide us through this storm and I ran into an old friend. The last time she saw me was when I was preggers so she asked how the baby was, how I was and then she asked a question that people very rarely ask, how was the birth?

It made me stop and think about my answer. For the past few months its something that I've thought quite a bit about. Her birth was long and arduous, but in the end I got a wonderful baby girl. Of course normally when people ask I don't go into great detail, but today I did, and I think it was good for me. I finally admitted to being a bit disappointed. I had been in hopes of having a totally natural vaginal delivray. I'd taken the classes, done prenatal yoga, walked, squatted, drank mother's tea, and read all the books. I thought surely, I'd be able to handle this, certainly I could let go and do this one thing that women had been doing for thousands of years before me. But I couldn't.

I went into labor on May 3 around 2 in the morning, when I woke up to pee. I waddled into the bathroom and noticed my underwear were wet. Thinking I'd just leaked a little, I washed off changed underwear and went back to sleep, or tried to. Because I was laying down for only about 10 minute when I noticed I was feeling wet again. Up I went, back to the bathroom. This time I woke DH up and told him what I thought was going on. We paged the doula and called my mom. Both told me to take it easy and just try to get some rest to prepare myself for the long day ahead. That was easier said than done. I slept off and on for maybe about 3 hours, before the doula called and asked how I was. She suggested I eat a light snack and continue to get some rest because I couldn't feel any contractions.

Around 6 that morning I noticed blood when I went to the bathroom and decided it was time to try the hospital. So, I called and the doctor told me to come on in. I showered, got some yogurt, had some tea and did my hair. Yup, I was calm enough to do my hair.

We got to the hospital around 7, got checked in and the nurse told me to put on a gown. I was feeling good, real good. She checked me and hooked me up to the monitors and told me that I was already having contractions, they were about 3 minutes apart. This is nothing I thought, I'd noticed my tummy tightening, but nothing major. I knew I'd be able to handle this.

My doctor came in and checked me, I was only about 3 centimeters dilated and the baby's head hadn't dropped down. So, he broke my water and started me on pitocin. This is where the story starts to get foggy. I remember laying down in the hospital bed, water spilling out of me everywhere, the doctor, nurses, doula, and DH standing around my bed. Pretty soon I had IVs hooked into my arm, and I was feeling out-of-it. The pitocin made the contractions stronger and my body had a hard time adjusting. My blood pressure began to shoot up, at one point I just remember it being like 150/111 or something and the nurse made me lay down on my side. I'd planned to be able to walk around, do yoga, get in the tub, walk the halls, but none of that happened.

My progress was extremely slow, I just remember the doctors and nurses coming in ever so often to check my pressure and my progress. Not much changed. They tried to have me sit up occasional, but my pressure would go up again. I'd move in the bed from side to side, but still nothing. Finally, after a day of moving, peeing, water dripping, and the bed being turned almost upside down I was told that I'd have to have a C-section. At that point I think I was so tired and out-of-it that I didn't care. I just wanted to know how fast it could be done. At 9:30 PM the decision was made that I'd have a c-section and by 10 I was being prepped.

I'd known all along that because of my low platelet count, if I had to have a section, I would have to be put out with general anesthesia, but I don't think I fully prepared myself, but how can you? The anesthesiaologist came in and told me about all the horrible things that can happen and asked me if I could manage to drink a yucky liquid to settle my stomach acids, I chugged it like it was a jell-o shooter. The next thing I new my belly was being shaved and a folly-cath being inserted. From that point on, I kept my eyes closed.

DH whispered his I love yous, my mom rubbed my hair, and my doula said she'd come back to take pictures. But other than that, I was on my own. They rolled me out of the room and into the OR, I opened my eyes twice. The first time I was in the hall and the second time I was in the OR. Once there, the room was cold, they made me recite my social security number and asked me if I knew why I was there. I rattled off the numbers and told them I was having a baby, I was so afraid that if I didn't get it right they wouldn't do it! I looked up and just saw a huge light. It reminded me of an X-files episode where there were examining an alien on a table. I was the alien.

I remember a cold brush going across my belly and I could hear them talking about my case, "low platelets, examined the case earlier, 40 weeks, first pregnancy." The next thing I knew there was a voice coming from behind me telling me to breathe deeply and that she'd take good care of me.

In less than 30 minutes I had a baby and was back in my room. I looked around to see all the faced I'd left and then I looked down and there was my baby, attached happily to my boob.

I think my emotions have run the gambit when I think about my labor and delivery. Certainly, I'd wanted a natural birth and ended up with anything but that. But what I've got is so much more awesome, a healthy babe. I've also decided that out of this birth I learned about my own stregnths, ones that I never before thought I'd had.

Most people know I am HORRIFIED about doctors and hospitals. I mean a horrible fear, but I did it. I never once freaked out, got loud, or tried to control the situation. The entire time I kept reminded myself to just be like water, let the pain, the fear, all of it just wash over and out of my body. That got me through those long hours. I was able to just focus on each contraction and let it go. Before the c-section I was able to focus on the event and let go my fears and worries. I learned from this a very valuable lesson, one that I should have learned a long time ago, but it took this to really teach me.

What a wonderful way to learn, I got the best gift of all.

ernesto

We're getting hit hard with rain from ye ole ernesto. That combined with the fact that the babe is feeling sniffly and teething means that I'll be staying in most of the day. No complaints with that, just wishing that I had some better snacks in the house.

I looked back over what I wrote earlier about feeling crazy. And I can answer my own question, LOL, no I'm not crazy. I'm just having a hard time dealing with the way things are:

I miss my grandma horribly. The raw hurt that I feel will heal with time, but maybe it would be helpful to do something to try and get myself to think more positively about her. Most of the time I focus on her last month which was so difficult and full of so much pain. Maybe every Friday I'll post a story or memory. I think sometimes I'm afraid I'll forget.

I do have a baby now and that means I can't get things done the way I used to. Tough tits. (literally) This just means I will have to pick my projects carefully and work even harder. That's a challenge that should be good for me.

I do want to be a teacher. There's no denying that. I am also disappointed that I've not been able to start school. I'm sick of the adjuncting game. But I've got to look at what I do have, a beautiful, wonderful, daughter.

Now, the hard part is just applying and remembering.

putting it into context

I feel like i have to put my last post into context, to be fair to myself and others.

1. Yes, I was admitted into a PhD program but didn't go because my MIL got sick and I got pregnant. My own choice and one I do not regret.

2. Maybe I don't regret number one, but in some ways do I regeret not going to school earlier?

3. I am sick of the bull-ish that goes on in school. And I think more than anything I just need to get away.

4. I'm tired of myself.

5. I'm sad, I miss talking to my grandma who would have been able to solve all of my problems and I would be feeling much better by now.

6. I don't have the focus on school that I used to.

7. Sometimes I wish I did have the focus, or the ability to do things other than the stuff I've got not.

8. I don't know who I am.

9. Do you think I'm crazy?

do you think i'm crazy?

I really dig the Gnarles Barkley song. My bro and I have been saying that it really relates to how we're both feeling at the moment. Kinda down, missing our granny, wondering what's up with the world, and how in the hell we fit into this atmosphere. I just don't know. Some days I feel like I have no answers at all.

Like today for example. I have so much that I need to get done: an article to review, lessons to plan, GRE to study for, contacts for Grad school, clean the house, do laundry, and the list goes on. But I didn't do any of it. Some days I just don't see the need, or better I should say, I don't have the want to do things, not like I used to.

I'm trying to avoid comparing myself too much to how I used to be, because the person I was no longer exists. At least in parts she does, but she's different now. Why am I referring to myself in 3rd person? Maybe because I'm trying to distance myself from myself (mmm) and try to take a look at who I've become. I don't know, it's really cliche to say that having a baby changes you. It does, I don't argue that at all. But how does it change you? I guess its different for everyone. In some ways I think it makes you more focused, in my case, my little one commands attention and it means quite often I have to put other things on hold. I don't complain about this though, because it has taught me how to prioritize. I can now quick-spot-clean our apartment in 20 minutes, or fix myself something to eat, or grab a shower and check email. There's a lot that can be done in that amount of time. But having her has also made me re-examine exactly what's important to me. And to long for things to be simple.

Some days I just don't give a who about theory or writing or teaching or learning, not unless it has to do with my baby. It scares me though, because some days I just don't see the point of the work I've spent so much time on, so much time thinking about, and really trying to work my way up that ladder. Some days I wonder if I've fallen, out of the 'ivory tower' wanna-be syndrome and if I've plummeted to where I was before I knew what academia was about.

My first experience with teaching came about 5 years ago. I taught immigrants and refugees English. I loved it. I would have a classroom packed with 20-30 people each night, friends would bring friends, mothers would bring grandma, grandma would bring aunties. And I would work on the most basic things with them, learning to read signs, reciting the alphabet, counting money, filling out forms for the doctor's office. It was tiring and I spent way more time prepping those lessons than I did working on my own stuff for grad school, but I loved it. I felt like I really had the power to change lives, to help people. It made me feel good when a student would come back and tell me she'd gotten a job or when they would thank me in English. I really felt that I made a difference. Now, I don't know. I don't get that feeling. I think I'm really disillusioned from with the world of academia right now. Working as an adjunct also doesn't help any. No benefits, no ability to travel, and no hope for promotion unless you adjunct for a gazillion years and are willing to kiss ass. I'm just not at that point in my life anymore.

I guess its more just a part of me being able to see that there are other ways to claim success in life, and they don't always have to do with titles or status.

I'm wondering if I don't need to seriously rethink my career choice. I used to see the benefit of my going to school and pursing comp studies/rhetorical analysis stuff, but now I just ask myself why? And who am I going to help that way? I know I need to be a teacher, its just what I am, its what I do, its a part of my core. But how can I help those who need it the most? That's what I feel called to do.

first day woes

Well, my first day of school was actually last week, but this is the first official week, or at least that's how I count it. I'm not feeling super thrilled about much of anything and I think that it has to do with the fact that I'm still grieving the loss of my granny and learning to function on an entire new sleep schedule. I haven't had the time like I usually do, to plan and create new activities. Teaching the same ole class gets borning, but I always enjoy adding to my in-class activities.

I am also in the middle of GRE studying and writing a review. But I'm having a hard time doing both.

I have quite a bit of trouble learning to focus and meet deadlines.

ugh.

Things that are Weird II

Reading Tree's entry here Cheese & Responsibility made me think of this one:

11. Keeping a Jean Luke action figure in the pocket of your winter coat, at 22, touching the figure when you feel nervous and being worried when he's slipped into the hole in your pocket and gotten stuck in the lining, and sad when you've lost him at the dry cleaners.

And whats even MORE weird? I don't even really know who Jean Luke is, but I totally dug his action figure.

Things that are Weird

1. Not being able to get good iced-tea anywhere but in the South. Don't other people drink their tea syrupy sweet?

2. Not having traveled enough to actually make the assessment made in number 1.

3. Having a baby who acts like a 40 year old.

4. Seeing random folks who were the shiz-it in school; but who are now struggling to just get by. The fall of the superhero.

5. Teachers who float into your life and then out.

6. Having those same teachers talk to you in a very un-teacherly way.

7. Missing Friday nights where the highlight was eating pepperoni pizza and drinking diet coke (especially because now you don't eat pork and are afraid of the chemicals in the soda).

8. Teaching at the same place you went to school. Sometimes I forget and feel like I should be sitting at the small desk, not the big desk.

9. Reading about random people's lives and caring about what happens. I mean really caring, like staying up when you should be asleep because you have a babe who will wake you up for milk in another 3 hours...if you even have that long.

10. Blogging.

so....

I made it through one day of teaching/orientation. It was nice to put on real clothes and have adult conversations, but at the same time I missed my baby horribly! The longest I'd been away from her was maybe 3-4 hours tops, but on Thursday I was away from 1-7! argh! She was with her dad, but still it was much harder than I'd imagined.
Before she was born I thought that I'd want to go back to work, back to school, back to 'normal' life right away. Boy was I wrong, I wanted to cry when I had to get out of the car. Its hard, because I know there has to be a balance and trully I want there to be. I don't think it would be good for me or her if I didn't have any other interests/jobs, but right now my focus has been only on her for the past 3 and 1/2 months, so its like how do I get myself back in the swing of things I used to do?

Actually, what I've realized is that I can't get back in the swing of what I used to do. I'm not that person anymore, and if I continue to try to think that I am her, then I'll never be able to enjoy who I am now. Having a baby changed me, I'm a different person now. Sure, I 've got some of the same qualities and strands of person that I had before, but I've also got some stuff too, and thats okie, in fact its good. The old me could have never handled any of this. If you had told me a year ago, I'd have a baby, not go back to grad school, AND loose my grandma within a month, I'd have told you there would be no way. No way I would be able to make it. But I have. Slowly, yes, but making it still. I used to be so caught up in what other people were doing or what people would think of me if I didn't do things a certain way. Not any more, its a waste of time to be that analytical, and if its one thing having a baby has taught me, its to focus on the present.

So, when I started my first day of class I did not panic when I hadn't quite finished the syllabus, didn't have the right section number, had a bit of milk on my clothes, forgot to pack extra nursing pads, and wore sneakers because my feet have gotten wider since having the babe. No, no panic, no worry, I walked in and did what I do best.

Trying to break the Ice

Well....its been quite some time. Almost 5 months to the day that I said I ended this blog, and here I'm back. Feeling more than a little bashful and afraid *kicks rocks around with foot and looks down like a new kid on the playground*.

I ended this blog because I felt like I couldn't keep up with others, or rather I felt like I wasn't where I should be and because it was painful, I just stopped writing and tried to stop thinking about it, well, things don't work that way. You still think about it.

I have gone through so many changes, so many. So many. Three months to the day my blog ended, so did my grandma's life. Just like that, gone. It was cancer and it hit with a vengeance. I'm no where near healed from the loss. None of us are, but I realize that she is not hurting anymore and we said our I love You's and I have to let it go with that. Knowing that I'll never forget her.

My daughter was also born, little Cucumber! She came on May 3 at 7lbs 10 ounces and screamed to the top of her lungs when she saw DH (I was out of it from the meds/c-section), our first meeting came with me waking up super groggy to find her attached to my boob. It was love at first sight.

So, I'm trying to ease back into things. I'm still an avid blog reader, but its hard to type with a 12 pounder on your hip tugging for more milk. Now that I'm starting with work again, I hope to carve out a little time to be able to write and still read. I hope to put myself out there more and become more a part of the blogging community. I want to read and respond and do more than just talk about myself.

I am also not putting forth any rules on what this blog is and what it is not. Just like I said, I'm trying to learn balance and keep a level head. I'm also trying really hard to get back into the swing of work/school because I've not lost focus and realize even now more than ever that its important for me to go back to school.

So, we'll see what happens. I hope I can find a swing on this playground *looks around for empty swing, or maybe a slide...*

When this blog first began, it was going to be a way for me to write about the transition from a life of adjuncting to graduate school and my move up North. Well, life happens and things change, so this blog is now a reflection of those changes.

I don't like this blog.

I think one of the reasons I'm not very happy with it is because I started out with a set agenda, "This is what my blog will say. This is the purpose it will serve." I tried to model it around other academic-like blogs and tried to really put my 'academic' perspective on things. I tried to hard to be witty, to comment on things I thought I should comment on because they were academic-ish and to make this a place that was going to be intellectual.

Well, when you set out with an agenda it becomes difficult to make it always fit. Or at least for me, because I have a tendency to not want change or to not flow and be like water (Bruce Lee- what was that quote he used...).

So, inevitably, the blog's role had to change because I changed, but my mind was still fighting for this to be an 'academic' space not mommy/preggo central, or a place to complain and whine, or a place to post random snipits of my life. I think that's why here lately I've been avoiding it and not wanting to post. I don't want to post because I don't like what this blog has become, me. And I'm not always very happy with myself. Usually, I'm never very happy with myself. I am my worst enemy and critic. And I know most people would argue the same, but its different for me. I come from a family where my father is a perfectionist and as much as I'd hate to admit it, I am too. So, when this blog didn't turn into a hot trobbing place to discuss rhetorical analysis, or teaching, I became soured.

The other part of the problem is that I also have a tendency to compare myself with others. Big time. What is Sally Joe's blog about? What does Petey have to say about comp theory? Whats the hot topic at Four C's? How does Coco Joe tell a story? Blog's serve many purposes and it does give you a bit of space to focus on your self (for better or for worse) and when you read how things are grrrrrrrrrrreat for others and their moving and shaking and doing er-thing you wanted to, if you have a perfectionist personality and compare yourself with others, inevitably you began to doubt yourself and feel like a failure. That's just the way it is, for me.

So, a month or so ago, I really started hating my blog. I felt like I wasn't focused, committed to the purpose of why I started one in the first place (to record thoughts/emotions about transition). I also think that not having an audience was affecting me also. Most folks don't blog just for themselves, for some it might be that this is trully a journal, a private space, but I find that hard to believe. If you are posting on the net, you have to realize there is a chance someone will read what you have to say, and I think most bloggers want that. That's why you ask questions in your post, that's why you have a comment section, or a blog role. Because you seek a community. Well, I don't really have one, or rather I should say I feel like I'm on the outskirst of lots of different communities: mother to be, former adjunct, former phd to be, stay at home mom to be, full time 9-to-fiver, wife, writer-wanna-be. In some of these communities I fit perfectly, while in others I don't really feel like I belong. And much of that is my own fault, or rather my own perception.

So, with all that said. I'd like to announce that this blog is going-bye-bye. I'm changing. I am allowing myself to change and not feel like I have to stay with this form. I'm going to be like water. (Where the hell is that Bruce Lee quote!?)

Top 10 Reasons why I love living in the South

1. Southern style sweet iced tea. (You ain't had tea until you've had it down here, its ice-box cold as my granny would say, and syrupy sweet)

2. Warm winter days. (This past weekend I've been able to sun myself because its been in the 80s)

3. Random small talk. (People, most of the time, talk to you like they've known you for years and are always ready to offer advice)

4. Food. (Mac and cheese made with REAL cheese and milk, fried everything, mashed potatoes, and the fact that we can serve gravy with every meal)

5. Sweet iced tea.

6-10. Sweet iced tea.

Ok, so I couldn't get to 10, but these do sum up rather nicely how I feel. I usually always have something negative to say about living down here, but this weekend I was trying real hard like to come up with some of the good points to being where I am.

I guess I could add family down there too.....

It would be easier for me to find reasons why I disliked it down here, but I won't even go there. Not while I'm sipping on my sweet tea.

So much...

The past couple of weeks have been nothing but constant activity. I've felt like I was on some sick ride that just wouldn't stop. Like when you go to those cheap carnivals and you know that the people running the rides are murders and stuff, just using the carnival get up as a way to travel from town to town, but anyways...I digress.

The activity started when I stayed home from work one day last week, I was not feeling well and my ankles were swollen. The only real remedy anyone could offer was for me to keep off my feet. So, I thought I'd have a relaxing day at home. WRONG. I settled in to take a nap when the dogs began barking like there were cats on parade in the house. They could smell the smoke. An arson investigator knocked on my door and told me to come out of my building. Apparently, someone had tried to set fire to the building in the basement. Yes, fire. Flames. Fumes. Smoke. Fire. In. My. Building. Where. I. Lay. Sleeping.

I of course had a panic attack and immediatley began the ever-so-dangerous what-if-game: What if I hadn't gotten up? What if my floors would have burned? What if this had of happened when I wasn't at home and the dogs couldn't have gotten out? What if this happened once the baby was born? What if there is a crazy pyromaniac in the neighborhood?

Once H came home, which felt like it took forever, but was actually only 10 or 15 minutes after I'd been asked to come out of the apartment, I just melted. We decided instantly that come hell or high water we were moving out.

Now enters next chaos, where are we gonna live? We've got 8 weeks until the baby comes and only 12 weeks in a lease.

No, that's not all of it. The next day I return to work, trying to catch up and get a phone call from my cousin. My grandma has been taken to the hospital. She's blacked out while driving and they don't know whats wrong with her. I panick again. Rushing out of the buildign and to the hospital I start the what-if-game again: What if she's not conscious? What if she had a stroke? What if she can't see forever? What if she isn't breathing on her own? What if I can't get to the hospital in time?

I make it to the hospital about 30 minutes later to find her wide-awake in the ER. Smiling and reassuring me she's just fine. The doctors say that want to keep her for observation, but they can't figure out what made her black out the way she did. She stays over night, more tests, more blood more, more waiting. And the next day I go back to the hospital to visit her and she's been told that they've found two suspicious spots on her scans. They can't say for sure what it is, but they do say the dirtiest word-cancer. They have to say it, or at least thats what they tell us, they have to warn us. It will be 5 days before we know for sure. She is in the hospital all weekend and dreads every moment of it, we all do. Our granny is the most active person I know and its hard to see her sit in a hospital bed, even harder to see her not know whats coming next. Finally, there is relief when the biopsy results come back and she's released, no cancer.

Now, a cooling down moment, I'm feeling better for us. But then, alas, the ride is not over, no, the carnival man has decided I should go yet another round. At my doctor's visit this week he announces that he thinks I have hypertension and that I could possibly be induced. Induced. In other words, a scheduled deliveray. My blood platelle count is also low, possibly another sign that I have hypertension or it could be thats my norm. More tests to come. I heard these words and yet again started the what-if-game: What if the induction doesn't take? What if it means I have to stay in bed and can't move around and do my yoga? What if I bleed and can't stop? What if the baby doesn't respond well to the induction? What if my uterus explodes? What if I can't take the pain? What if something happens to the baby?

The doctor reassures me that the baby is just fine and that there is still a chance I could go into labor on my own and not have to worry about any of this. I also learn that platelles dip a bit when you are pregnant and that if mine were severly low, they'd have but me on bedrest. Relax, everyone says, you are in good hands.

What if....to me, these are two of the most dangerous words in the English language when put togther. They can rip your brain and heart apart in seconds. Moving from one emotion to another was hard for me, but I think even harder because of the pregnancy. But there is something I realized through each of these events. I've got to let go of the what-if-game. I don't have any control over any of the above situations. All I can do is let God take care of us. Really, not to sound preachy here, but thats what I'm learning. As much as I'd like to think I'm in control of everything, I am not. I repeat: I AM NOT IN CONTROL OF EVERYTHING. I feel like I should write that 100x over.

So now, whats on my agenda:

Let it go.
Let it go.
Let it go.

Week 32=8 months?

8 months. I just figured out on Tuesday that I am now entering my 8th month. How did I just figure this out? Well, with so much going on, it seems like time has just slipped through my fingers.
I don't feel horrible, but I am slowing down and feeling tired again like I did during the first trimester. My ankles swell a bit, and I waddle when I walk and need help getting myself up and down. My heartburn had subsided, but has now returned and wakes me up with a burning fire during the night.
But...I only have about 81/2 weeks to go until my daughter makes her grand arrival. And I'm sure it shall be grand. I'm doing yoga twice a week now and H and I attend birth classes every Friday evening. Its just hard to believe that this is almost over. Just when I was getting used to it, lol.

But what we have to come is even more spectacular I'm sure of. H sings and talks to her now, and she does thump and move in response to her father's voice. Sometimes I tap my belly and she taps back, we haven't started teaching her any intricate drumming rhythms or anything, but I'm pretty sure she's well on her way to being the SMARTEST KID in the WORLD.