You should see her eyes when it’s sleepy time and she asks „Play, pleeeease“. Like puss in boots facing the knights in Shrek II.

Heute wurde Baby-A. von einer Wespe gestochen. Zwei Mal, mitten ins Gesicht (Sauviech!). Die darauf folgende Krankenhaus und Cortisonaction verlief zufriedenstellend und jetzt sind wir alle wieder glücklich zu Hause. Das Krankenhauspersonal war voll lieb.
Das Baby schläft jetzt selig (nur das Auge ist noch ein wenig zugeschwollen, ansonsten ist alles wieder abgeklungen).

Das Gefühl, nichts bewirkt, erreicht, getan zu haben ist unangenehm. Nicht katastrophal, aber irgendwie unangenehm. Wie leichte Kopfschmerzen.

Natürlich habe ich nicht „nichts“ getan. Im Gegenteil. Ich hatte kaum ein paar Sekunden, wo ich nicht „etwas“ getan hätte. Ich verbringe sicher jeden Tag 3h damit, mich um Essen zu kümmern (vom Einkauf über die Zubereitung, das Anrichten und das Verzehren, wobei 2 Kinder zu füttern sind, bis zur Beseitigung der dabei entstandenen Spuren… das ist eine konservative Schätzung.), kutschiere meine kleine Schwester zum Tennis, trage das Baby herum, spaziere mit den Kindern durch die Stadt, hänge Wäsche auf und ab, packe Umzugskisten aus (es ist fast ein Jahr her, dass wir umgezogen sind. Und es ist noch immer nicht vorbei.), kämpfe gegen den Verfall (Lebensmitelmotten, eingehende Rasenmäher, Reparaturen an Haus und Auto) und ein paar hundert Sachen mehr.

Aber irgendwie fände ich etwas, das mehr Resultate liefert, schon besser als dieses Fighten für den status quo.

Choice is a matter of alternatives

It is absolutely clear what I should do. No problem. Print out my spreadsheets. Take a watch and try out the presentation. Have a look if powerpoint really works the way it should. Pack my things. Look for a train at around 05:30 (what a cozy hour to leave town….). Prepare my business-clothing. Have a meal ready when C. returns from kindergarten in 3 hours. Spend the afternoon with the kids, gaining as much energy as possible. Getting to bed as early as possible. Get up tomorrow at 04:00 am, leave the house, go to a far away city and hold the presentation there. Look tidy, don’t look tired. Don’t get stains on your blazer. Make no mistakes. Wear a smile. „Did I mention the baby fell asleep on my chest today?“ Oh, no, that’s not the way to start a presentation. The way is „Ladies and gentleman, today I’m going to discuss…“. Because, hey, we are here discussing law and whether you have kids or not is your private thing. (Really, this distinction between private and job… it’s like splitting your personality.) Leave the far-away town, take the train, be back home when the kids are already asleep and fall right into your bed at around 11:30 pm. Dream happy opting-out dreams.

It is a little tight schedule, but I’ve had far worse and always managed. It is not at all impossible. And now…. the thought is so sickening. Bye, bye, baby is a feeling I can’t handle. Getting up at 04:00 seems so terribly impossible. I’d like to tell someone how it all sucks, but no one will want to hear that it breaks my heart to leave the baby, everyone will just expect my to function.

Having to get up at 04:00 – well, my own fault, why did I choose to live somewhere else. (… would you believe me if I told you that I did it for the kids? So that they could have a nice garden, a room to play, enogh space for everyone in the family...)
Having to leave the baby – well, my own fault, why did I choose to have kids when I can’t stay with them. (… I’ve planned them. And considered everything. And it seemed to be the best time given the fact that I’d probably lose any job for being pregnant and staying at home)
Having to look tidy and have a proper business-like attitude – well, my own fault, I’ve chosen this environment. (And, come on, would I want to work as a cleaning-woman?)
Only that „It was my own choice“ doesn’t feel true.
This whole women can have both, women can choose… it seems like a downright lie to me. Sure, you can choose to have your kids at another time. But which time would be better? If the best time is only the „least worst“ time – what then? Choice is a matter of alternatives. The choices we are offered therefore don’t really deserve the name of choice.

PS/EDIT: I’ve managed to do it all. But everytime I have to do this tight schedule/leaving house thingy again I hate it more. It’s not like I’m getting used to it, it’s like a growing pain.

fml

Today the baby started to laugh when the sitter came. This feels both good and bad. Good because I know that these 12 hours a week that I spend working are 12 hours spent with someone who the baby likes. Bad because… this was my smile. The smile I get. This complete baby-trust smile.
I know she prefers staying with me, which makes me feel only more bad… because she would prefer staying with me and I make her stay somewhere else. She is not her peaceful self when she is not with me. She needs constant entertainment, not only closeness, when she is with someone else. And she sleeps a lot, it always reminds me of an „off-button“ she uses. Just sleep and forget that mommy is not here, wake up and it’s over.
I don’t know. Probably I’m just the discontent type. Probably I would feel discontent as a housewife and mother 24/7 as well. Probably… but something inside my head keeps whispering „Sure not. It’d be great.“
And all these mothers who stay at home with „only“ one kid… rationally I know they are not having it easy, their (maybe noble, maybe clever) minds focussed on dull housework and sweet toddlers who can’t converse. But I envy them for staying at home. A lot. This is also strange as I never considered myself an envious person, not at all.

… this reminds me of a Bulgarian friend who told me what he thinks about his job „I eat shit for money. But it’s a lot of money.“
fml.

a friend of mine asked me what it’s like to be a parent…

„Offspring can be disturbingly illogical yet profoundly fulfilling. You should anticipate paradox.“
(Tuvok)

potty training

The kid wet MY pants. Twice.
I’m getting serious doubts about my sucess with her potty-training. Of course I’ve read about it, her proud „Did loo!“ is the first step towards „I want to go to the loo“, but still…
: P

PS: Little-C.’s new suggestion: „The cat needs diapers!“
PPS:
Now the baby is asleep and A. has the big one. He’s doing funny voices when reading books to her. Like an evil witch or a crazy gorilla or something

Complaint number 123/04/2009

This is going to be the 1000th „I don’t want to do scientific writing“ complaint I’m lodging.

Thing is: I don’t want to. But the voices in my head are whispering their „It would be wise“ and the kids keep crying their „Mother! Feed us!“ and my husband keeps repeating his „You’ll manage, darling“ and I think all three of them are reasonable. The one who is not reasonable is – well, me. Me with my stupid „Don’t want to“ and „Want to sleep“ and „Want to do bullshit“.
The problem is…. ever since the first baby came I thought about quitting after finishing with the MA. I was totally sure that I wouldn’t f*ing quit before having a degree. This was my motivation. Now I have the degree and I think the writing pointless (I guess it will not shake the universe, whatever I find out about Austrian defamation law). Plus, I would like to do something else. Nothing of great value, just stupid things: Writing prose (did I mention my dream of writing an average book that will shake the universe even less than my thesis), gardening, sleeping, doing my taekwondo club, unpacking boxes and putting pictures on the wall.

I also think about having a job outside the house. I know I just couldn’t do it with the baby (I dislike not seeing her for more than half an hour), but somehow I miss talking to grown-ups from time to time. You know, I do meet other mothers and other (childless
; )) people and we chat and it is nice, but it is something completely different from the talk between grown-ups only. How serious can your grown-up talk (you know, plotting the world-rule, making concepts for educational reforms or simply mentioning that you think Ashton Cutcher no longer hot) be while you are stopping the toddler from smearing lipstick over the coffee-table.

In fact I spend quite a lot of time thinking about what I should change. Because it’s all too much for me. And too little at the very same time.
Possible changes would include:

- quitting the thesis and the ph.d studies and apply for some stupid part-time job (if someone has seen an academic part-time job, catch it and let it be brought forward and yielded to me) of about 15 hours/week

- usurp the world rule

- apply for an academic job and let husband enjoy being a homemaking father (I know I would totally envy him for that and I don’t want to be without my kids so this is not really an option)

… the longer I look at the other options the more I know that keeping up the combination of mothering/ph.d is the best. But if you are not really content with the best amongst the given… what then? Stay and fight, I guess.

Um halb fünf Uhr morgens* aufzustehen lässt interessante Erkenntnisse zu.
1) „Craddle to love“ ist ein unglaublich witziger Song.
2) Radiomoderation ist unglaublich witzig.
3) Man kann zu jedem Song den Anarchistentanz tanzen.
4) Man liebt das Kind offensichtlich sehr (sonst hätte man ihm verdammt noch mal gesagt, dass drei Uhr früh keine Zeit für „aufstehen! Will Saaaaft!“ ist)
5) Man ist ebenso offensichtlich hoffnungslos willenlos und dumm (s.o.)
6) Das mit der Maslowpyramide ist absolut wahrhaftig.

* A.’s Zeit: drei Uhr morgens.

…. I don’t want to do scientific work. I want my baby.
And as I am the person deciding what I do I now have the baby with me. I’m also reading scientific articles. But my mind is focused on the baby. What a stupid, useless idea, commenting law instead of *sigh* having my baby. This smile… you have no idea how it feels in my heart. This utter happiness and all.
For me personally – though I don’t want to claim this for all women, it is just for me and I have no intention of bashing women who want to work – working is not what I want. It is what I do to support my family, what I do for my career (which I want to have to help my kids get along, not because I think 40 office hours a week are sooo fulfilling) – what I’d like more would be being a rich housewife. Rich like having a cleaningwoman and some paid help and managing these helpers and educating my kids and never seeing any need for paid work. Maybe working for 10 hours in some nice field.
Baby is far more froody than work.
gotta get C. from kindergarten!

cya

bye