day: the last

Day 7 of 7.

I debated whether or not to write this post tonight because I'm in quite a negative mood from a work issue that came up. But maybe it will be therapeutic to do something I can (almost) completely control, as long as my anger doesn't taint the writing too much.

7am. Alarm goes off early today b/c I have a to-do list that needs to start before Genghis does. Get up miraculously 10 minutes later and start in on scripture study. Afterwards, check in on some emails, shower, get ready for the day.

8am-1pm. Genghis gets up. We play with legos in his room for a while, then venture out the main room for breakfast. Oatmeal, toast, and bananas. During breakfast I write out the ingredients I need for some freezer meals I'll be making in bulk with a few friends later in the week. Part of my baby prep plan.

Genghis and I play around the house after lunch. I reorganize my office space, and he helpfully empties some drawers for me. I also inventory our pantry food supply in preparation for a trip to Aldi's later in the day, where I shop for bulk pantry goods.

We take a long route to the car in the late morning to enjoy beautiful outdoor weather. Genghis expresses interest in running into the half-frozen pond by our house and I exert my parental authority to prevent him. We drive to the home of a woman from our church for visiting teaching (see an explanation here). Genghis's quietest moments during the visit are spent spinning around in an office chair in her living room.

Back at home, we have lunch, Genghis stacks some balls up on the couch, gets extremely frustrated when they don't look just so, and I round him and his grief up for nap time.

1-3pm. Good nap today. I plan out an extensive shopping list for the afternoon's trip to the store. I also put some time into work and general email catching up. Does anyone else notice that "checking email" is the biggest time sink in the world?

3-6:45pm. Soon after Genghis wakes up, we head out to the grocery store. Genghis is close to angelic as I pile more and more goods into the cart, almost supplanting him with a sack of potatoes towards the end. It may have helped that I was feeding him white fudge gingerbread cookies during the trip. I am not above food bribes in the grocery store.

I can't get everything on my list because it won't all fit in the cart. This is probably okay, since I just spent an entire month's food budget in one trip. But our deep cupboards will be stocked for the next two months. Abe told me later that he heard a report about the cost of living increasing, mostly in food bills. That made me feel (slightly) better.

When we get home, Genghis watches from his car seat while I haul load after load from the trunk of the car to our front porch. He starts to get antsy, perhaps when he sees me carrying away the bananas. Once I'm done and get him unloaded to the porch, he hunts through the bags until he finds the bananas and brings them to his high chair. I acquiesce, hoping to buy enough time to make dinner. 90 seconds later, Genghis has finished the banana and is requesting more. I set him down and request his help in unloading the rest of the groceries. He complies, though him dumping bags on the floor turns out to be not quite as helpful as I originally imagined.

Abe comes home a bit early, and entertains Genghis with vacuuming, while I finish stocking the pantries and getting dinner ready. I collapse at the table while they finish up and join me for dinner. I have never felt more grateful for bath time with Daddy after dinner. I sit on the couch and read, not moving a muscle.

We do a quick family home evening, where I share a lesson about the importance of families as taught in The Family: A Proclamation to the World. We play tag for an activity and suddenly it's bedtime for Genghis.

6:45-11:15pm. Abe and I spend some time trying to think of names for our baby girl. Until now, we've just waited for the name to come to us; now we're doing due diligence. After, I continue to spend a good while reading on the couch, while Abe rows, talks to his brother, and cleans up dinner. I also get involved in the frustrating work issue that I mentioned at the beginning of the post, and spend the rest of the evening trying to get over it. I think I'm almost there. I'm at least to the point where I want to stop letting it bother me because I want to move on with happier, more productive things in life. Abe and I play a round of Agricola, and now head to bed.

in love with the end of the day

Day 4 of 7.

7:15-9:15am. Alarm, sleep 15 more minutes, then get up. Genghis is up on the early side of 7:30 and he's headed to the babysitter's at 9, so I go in to his room right away for some quality time together. I think he's been missing me (could I possibly be projecting?). We spend a while in his room organizing his animals. Then I use his coyote hand puppet to sniff around the room asking "Where's Genghis" while Genghis squeals in a corner until coyote finds him and tickles his tummy. We enjoy this until Dad comes in for a morning hug and Genghis asserts his independence by stiff-arming Dad and running out of the room.

We have leftover pancakes for breakfast, along with yogurt and grapefruit. I think about all the years of delicious, fresh grapefruit I missed out on when I was grew up in Arizona and didn't like the fruit.

We get ready to go to the babysitters, which involves the traumatic experience of packing up Genghis's truck in a small toy bucket. He demands to have the truck back and I finally distract him with a pink balloon from the bow party last night. He follows me around the house for the rest of the morning, softly repeating "boon".

The babysitter comes over at 9am to pick Genghis up. She happened to be in the area, so we arranged for a pick up instead of drop off. This is Genghis's first time with this babysitter, so I have overpacked his bag with toys, food, a change of clothes, and a list of "Things to Know About Genghis", including a warning clause about the hazards of diaper changes. Genghis cries when I leave him in the car but I try not to think about that the rest of the morning.

9:15am-12:45pm. Time for work. I put in my trusty retainers and slog through another section of the paper. Almost done. Take a break for a client phone call and let myself get distracted by email more often than yesterday. By noon, I have a complete rough draft of the paper and quickly close the document so I'm not tempted to re-read. For the next 45 minutes I listen in on a conference call. My goal in this set of conference calls is to try to find one useful thing to chime in with on each call, so I can break the habit of being a total mute. Unsuccessful yet again. I hang up early to go pick up Genghis.

12:45-4:45pm. Genghis is having a jolly time at the babysitters when I arrive, going back and forth on the rocking chair and yelling "Weee!" (Usually rocking or spinning of any kind is accompanied by this phrase.) The babysitter reports that Genghis enjoyed playing with his truck in the yard, following their 10-year-old as she lured him around the house with a giant bouncy ball, playing with the neck wrinkles of the aging family dog, and eating just a bit of vanilla ice cream for lunch. He also obediently laid down during his whole diaper change. Go figure.

I have a hard time getting Genghis out of the house and into the car, which is a good sign. Looks like the trial run of babysitting went well, so we're set to do it again next week.

The only downside I can see is that they live on a dirt road. That combined with the spring thaw means my car is completely covered in mud. Every time I brush up against the car, I have a new mud cake on my outfit (if lounge pants and a sweatshirt can be called an outfit). I take a mental note to wash the car ASAP. I like to wear those lounge pants often.

Genghis falls asleep on the way home but I still have to pry the balloon (he's had it with him since the morning) out of his tight grip before getting him in the house and into bed. He rouses during the transition and immediately looks around for the balloon. After a brief mental debate, I pull out another balloon from the party stash and let him take it to bed. 15 minutes later, I am worried that he has surely strangled himself on the string (bad mom, bad) so I sneak in to his room, grateful to see the balloon floating on the other side. I guess he was pretty tired.

Nap time involves some scripture reading, a bit of work, a bit of vegging to TV online, and a half-hearted attempt to reorganize the office. I think I'm feeling Friday tired. I bravely eat a whole carrot instead of one of the frosted cupcakes on the counter. In full disclosure, I also have to change my clothes because I sneezed twice and bladder control at this point in pregnancy is just not what it used to be. Genghis wakes up after about an hour. We have a snack together (still holding out on that cupcake) and then pack up to go to the car wash and enjoy the rest of the afternoon at the park.

Genghis brings his balloon along.

4:45-7pm. After the park, we pick up Abe from work. We briefly flirt with the idea of take-out, and then turn towards home where I scrounge together a dinner out of the items left in the fridge. Not bad, but leaves me craving Indian curry. Genghis lets the balloon out of his site during bath time and I hide it in the laundry room. We enjoy a lovely evening of play time (my favorite part of the day is often between bath and bed). Genghis shows me his new trick of sticking his fingers in his eyes and spinning around. This time he is concentrating too hard to say "Weee!" He also runs into the bookcase. Should I worry?

7-?pm. Finally! An evening with just Abe and I, and no work on the agenda. Abe just finished the dishes while I wrote this post. I hear him setting up Agricola. And those cupcakes are waiting for me.

working day

Day 3 of 7.

5:15-7:15am. Wake several times, but it doesn't bother me because each time I know I still have more sleep before I have to wake up. Alarm clock at 7:15. Snooze.

7:30-9:30am. Wake up, having time for a full 30 minutes of scripture study. No attempt to shower or get dressed. I hear Genghis waking up around 8am so I run into the kitchen to whip up some pancakes for breakfast, because I'm tired of oatmeal. Genghis and I enjoy a pancake breakfast with applesauce and yogurt. He is content to dally about the house but I get to take him to his side of the babysitting swap at 9, so I am rushing him to get ready. We make it out the door at 9:15.

9:30am-3pm. This is my working time for today. As soon as I get home from dropping Genghis off I set about writing this paper that I avoided yesterday. I don't even let myself get sucked into email first (okay, really, it was just that no one had emailed me). I worked for an hour and a half straight and made amazing progress. Writing is much easier when you decide beforehand that everything you type is perfect the first time you type it. And when you decide that if it an idea seems to difficult to express, it probably is, so you should just let it go.

Have a phone meeting from 11-11:30 which leaves me with an hour of follow up work. Determined not to let that deter me from the paper writing. But I do get myself 15 minutes to shower, dress, and eat lunch. Okay, maybe 30 minutes. I love working from home but I have to muster up all the discipline I learned years ago, practicing the piano for two hours every day after school.

I write for another hour and a half and get through the majority of the paper. Plenty to feel good about at the end of the day. As long as I don't go through and re-read it. That's another tip for writing: it's like letting bread rise. Once you finish a draft, don't go back to revise until you've let it sit for a few days.

3-6:30pm. Pick up a neighbor and her child, then pick up Genghis from the babysitter, and all four of us head to the house of a woman in my church for what's called "visiting teaching". The basic idea is that pairs of women go visit other women in the congregation, to check in, provide any help that's needed, and generally make sure things are going well for her. Unfortunately, today's visit mostly involved me trying to console a crying Genghis who wanted to play with this woman's older daughters but was (I think) afraid I was going to leave him again and he just hadn't had enough mom time that day. Also unfortunately, he will be going back to her house tomorrow morning for actual babysitting. Hopefully both he and the woman do not lose sleep tonight at the prospect.

When we get home, we consider going on a walk around the neighborhood but Genghis is in such a bipolar mood that I decide to just stay inside until dinner time. The crankiness continues, but at least I don't have to lift and pull him away from things; he has free reign of all rooms in the house (at least, below the 3-foot mark) except our bedroom.

Dad comes home at 5:45 and we enjoy white chicken chili for dinner, which I miraculously remembered to put in the crock pot around noon. Dad does bath time while I write this post. I'm leaving soon for a bow-making party in celebration of our coming daughter. Pretty sure I'll be too tired at the end of the night to write.

Looking back, days are much more calm and perhaps less interesting when I'm working all day.

(Update: 6:30-11pm. Put Genghis to bed, talk with Abe for a few minutes, head to bow party. Enjoy three hours of talking with friends, eating delicious food, and making all colors and styles of bows for a baby girl.)

down dogs relieve pain during pregnancy and provide a nice distraction from writing

Day 2 of my 7 day life chronicle.

7:15. Alarm clock.

7:30-10. Get up, shower, but no time to do hair before Genghis gets up. I'm starting to really like that my hair is long enough to pull back.

Genghis spends much of breakfast fear-stricken that I will leave the room. Mostly, I'm just walking around trying to get the next food group ready to put on the table. Oatmeal, toast and peanut butter, milk, grapefruit. After breakfast we enjoy playing with some toys and practice only getting a few categories of toys out at a time. Instead of dumping out all the animals, all the blocks, all the balls, and all the books and then tripping over them for the next 8 hours, we try to play with the balls and blocks, then put the blocks away when we decide to move on to books. Genghis seems a little bewildered by this new attempt at structure, but goes along with it pretty well.

Eventually, we migrate to the bathroom for a diaper change and dressing for the day. Genghis methodically brings all of his animals and his "fuzzies" (comfort blankets) into the bathroom before coming in himself and carefully closing the door behind him. I have given up on getting him to lay down during diaper changes, but today as he roams the bathroom and I chase him with wet wipes, I am nervous about how many loads of animals I may have to run through the wash if things get out of control. Luckily, all goes well.

Unluckily, the next thing on my to-do list is laundry, and I realize that a soak in cold water was definitely not helpful in taking butter stains out of yesterday's clothes. How much do I care about these clothes? The answer must be not much because now, at 9:30pm, they are still just sitting on top of the washing machine, albeit sprayed with stain remover.

Perhaps to balance out the chaos of stained clothing, I decide to deep clean Genghis's high chair area for the morning project. Genghis himself is busy emptying the kitchen cupboards, and discovers that he can make silver mixing bowls spin round and round to his endless amusement. In the meantime, I scrub his high chair, the chair it sits on, the plastic covering underneath, and the walls around. My arms are getting tired by the time I get to the walls. Genghis has also crawled under the table at this point and is watching me intently with an expression that clearly says "my mother is crazy and it's making me exhausted".

10am-1:15pm. Once the cleaning is done, we head out to the car for the downtown library to meet a friend and her children. I know going into it that this trip will involve a lot of re-directing of Genghis's attention (for example, hefting him away from the DVD rack which he can swipe clean in under 10 seconds). We happen to be there during story hour - the one geared for the 2-5 year olds rather than the 0-24 month olds, which is what Genghis and I usually attend. He is clearly interested in what all of the tall little people are doing and expresses it by running through all of them and up to the front of the room to spin around in circles and cry out "Weee!"

More hefting.

We settle in at the back of the room for most of story time with some yogurt-covered raisins and a car puzzle.

After story time Genghis terrorizes the library for about 30 more minutes while I try to snatch bits and pieces of conversation with my friend. When we leave, my back and various tendons in my midsection are hurting so much that I literally hobble to the car, grateful for umbrella strollers that double as walkers.

Next, lunch, adorable playtime that involves me sitting on the floor and not moving, followed by nap.

1:15-5:30pm. This is a working afternoon for me. Abe comes home to watch Genghis and I attempt to be as productive as possible in the other room. Today's big task is to write a project report. The first step to good writing is to avoid it as long as possible. Luckily, I had several emails and project logistics to address. As a bonus, there were unread blog posts in Google Reader. At 3:00, armed with some peanut butter and chocolate chip graham crackers as periodic rewards for getting work done, I seriously start in on writing. I make myself wear my retainers between rewards, possibly to remind myself that some things are more painful than writing.

5:30-6:45pm. I close up work and join the family for dinner. Abe and Genghis have just finished and are heading to the bath. Genghis runs back and forth between the living room (where I am) and the bathroom (where the bath is), clearly communicating that I must come watch him in his bath since he hasn't seen me all afternoon. I eat a plate of spaghetti sitting on the toilet next to 2 diaper pails. But, I'm rewarded with hearing 2 new words from Genghis. "Please" and "Oh no!" He says the latter in a distressed cry while swishing back and forth on his tummy in the tub. I think he's imagining a shipwreck in the Pacific or something equally dramatic. Play time after bath, and bedtime at 6:45.

6:45-9:40pm. I fall asleep on the couch for 30 minutes. Abe is working from home for the night. When I wake up, I head back to the computer to work on our finances, which always boils down to 2 basic emotions: 1) frustration with Mint.com (I have mixed feelings about the site) and 2) lamentation on how much I consistently overspend on groceries and home supplies. I wrap up my evening work by brainstorming some ideas for an upcoming church activity for the women in our congregation and writing this post.

I have no idea what I will do for the next hour. It will likely involve chocolate and a book or chocolate and a movie. Or perhaps just chocolate and a bed.

yes, i'll have fries with that!

Some people wish there were another hour in the day so they could accomplish more.

I am not one of those people.

Sure, I usually have an unfinished to-do list at the end of the day. But I'm certain that an extra hour wouldn't help that. I would just put more on my to-do list. In the end, an extra hour simply means more work. No, thank you.

Last week, though, I had the rare experience of having, not just an extra hour, but a whole extra day. I was coming home from a conference. Abe and Genghis were coming home from a family reunion. I got home just fine. The others' flight was canceled, so they had to stay a full day more. For me that meant one full, unexpected day with no dependents under my roof.

What, oh what, would I do with all that time?

I found out about this situation while still driving home, and I spent 2 hours in my car envisioning afternoon matinees, decadent desserts, no alarm clock, dinner at a fancy restaurant. Heck, mini golfing. The world was open to me (should I be embarrassed that my imagination extended only to putt-putt golf?).

Of course, I ended up spending 8am-6pm working. To be fair, I did have a scheduled work engagement from 8-1. It wasn't all my fault.

What else made the list?
1. A super-sized McDonald's lunch. I have been craving a McD's cheeseburger for weeks. Someone should give their Director of Advertising a raise.
2. Quesadillas, with a virtuous salad.
3. Two episodes of Glee. I think it's a first and last for me. I felt like I needed to get in touch with today's youth. Check. Genghis, never go to high school.

The good news was that my extra day was pathetic enough to make me grateful for my family when they came back. Who knew that a family could be more fun than two corn tortillas with cheddar cheese?

stretching my intellectual reservoirs

I had 2 grants due today, one major one, one smaller one. I recently found out I have another grant to write by Wednesday. Ironically, the Wednesday grant asks for more money than the other 2 grants combined. And I'm writing it in about one quarter of the time.

So tonight I tried to turn my muse on while Abe was out playing volleyball.

But you can only use the words "economic turnaround" "ignite curiosity and inspire imagination" and "implementation plan" so many times before wondering if you could just randomize the text from previous applications, fill in the appropriate word counts, and pass it off as a new proposal.

As a blunt test of this hypothesis, I input several of my previous grant narratives into Wordle, which generates word clouds with word size corresponding to number of times the word is used, to compare the resulting images for similarities.

To my surprise, each application did have substantially different key words emerge in the word cloud. For example, guess what this application was for?



That's right. A new technology plan and system for staff at the Museum to save time.

Which means I should move to plan B. Write a list of words that I think describe the grant, give each word a numerical score indicating how important it is to the project idea, and then hand that list to a troupe of monkeys* to write the application.

*What is the proper counter word for monkeys? A fleet of monkeys, a host, a company, a menagerie, a flock, a posse?

For Instructions on Muenster Cheese Consumption, See Chapter IV.b.4

Today was a Very Good Day. A big part of my work responsibilities is to write grants, and I passed 2 major milestones in grantwriting today.

First, this afternoon, I submitted my first proposal to the National Science Foundation. NSF = big money, lots of paperwork. For example, this was actually not a proposal, it was just a preliminary proposal. It will be reviewed and we will receive a recommendation about whether to pursue a full proposal in November. It took several hours to figure out how to access the online application. Once everything was set to go, pushing the "submit" button was a 8-step 3-person procedure that went something like:

"When application (PI) is ready to submit proposal, each Authorized Organizational Represented (AOR) from the PI's lead organization must log on to the FastLane system, ensuring that said log ons are concurrent and in conjunction with the Standards of FastLane Coordinated Log On as outlined in the Grant Proposal Guidelines (GPG) Chapter V, Section 3.e.4.i.78.b. Once all log ons are complete, each AOR must enter his or her Secret Password, which can be obtained from the Office of Secure Services for Advancing the Equality of Proposal Submission (OSSAEPS). Please note that obtained the Secret Password can take between 3 business days and 7 years. Entered passwords will be verified by sub-contracted chimpanzees working in the lower level of OSSAEPS offices. Per Secret Password verification, AORs may then navigate through a small maze, the center of which contains a block of Muenster Cheese (MC). Upon obtaining the MC, AORs will be re-directed to the submission page. AORs may then all push "Submit Application" following which they will be asked to verify 3 times that they do, in fact, want the application to be submitted.

For questions, PIs and AORs are recommended to view our Frequently Asked Questions page, which contains insightful bits of wisdom, such as "Q: How do I submit a proposal to NSF? A: Visit this link for our step-by-step instructions written by the chimpanzees."

So you can see how actually submitting this preliminary proposal was quite an accomplishment.

Second (remember, there was a second thing), I found out today that one of my previously-submitted grants was accepted! The grant is from PBS for music education programs about content in a new PBS documentary called "The Music Instinct", which premieres tonight and which will mention us as a grant recipient.

It's not a huge grant, but it does equate to about 1/3 of my annual salary. And it makes me feel more validated in the work I've been doing.

Lost & Found

My dad has a saying for times when you are searching for lost items: "It's always in the last place you look."

Today I met up with Abe for lunch on campus. At work we usually do the crossword puzzle during lunch, so I brought a copy with me. Which means I also brought my glasses, so I could read the clues without squinting.

The walk to campus was sunny and nice - certainly not weather for wearing glasses. I tucked them into my shirt collar. I remember them getting tangled with my ipod's earbud cords.

When I saw Abe on the lawn outside of the art museum, I ducked underneath the chain ropes to the lawn and met him there. We sat down (me in dappled shade, him in complete shade) and I commented on how this felt just like our lunch dates at college when we were first together.

We opened up the crossword and I reached for my glasses. Which were, of course, no longer there.

Thinking they must have dropped when I bent under the ropes, we searched back and forth along their length, and in the grass between. No luck.

Later, when I got back to work, I couldn't focus my eyes on the screen or papers in front of me. I'd basically given up on being able to find the glasses, so I got a recommendation from a co-worker for a cheap place for an exam and new glasses.

I walked to the bus stop, ready to go home, grab the car, and go get new glasses. At the stop, I called Abe, who said the only problem was that he had the car on campus, and needed it soon. So I changed directions to go meet Abe, get the car, drop him off, and then go get my new glasses.

It happened that Abe was in the building right next to the art museum. He needed a few minutes to wrap up his work, so I walked the length of the roped side walk - one last time.

And there, bright red frames against the green grass, were my glasses. In the last place I looked.

Incidentally, in my utter joy and astonishment, when I picked them up I immediately dropped them again. They skidded along the concrete sidewalk and now have a visible scratch in the center of the right lens. I'll try to think of it as a permanent reminder of good fortune.

motion for a 30-hour work week

All in favor?

I thought so.

Still, somewhere in the 8 hrs I have left after sleeping and working Mondays-Fridays, I have managed to squeeze in a well-balanced life. Despite my lack of posts in the last 2 weeks.

Monday: While everyone watched in despair and maybe horror as the snow accumulated throughout the day, I was anxiously awaiting 5:15, when I would bus home, grab the neighbors' sleds and Abe, and make our way to a local park. Between sickness and negative temperatures, I never went sledding this season.

There is a small but very steep hill close to our house that we scoped out in the fall. It did not disappoint. With the sun setting on our snowman bunny (we were coming up on Easter, after all), Abe and I stood at the top of the hill, daring each other to be the first to attempt descent. After I watched Abe careen to the bottom, I made my way to a side hill. We both ended up taking about 3 runs from the summit. We quit while we were ahead and went home to chili and hot chocolate.

Tuesday: Racquetball and weight lifting at the gym. Good stress reliever. Followed by freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and an episode from Season 2 of the original Star Trek series.

Wednesday: Dinner for a sick friend and entertaining her wonderfully fun children for an hour.

Thursday: Drawing a blank. Perhaps more Star Trek?

Friday: Burnt chicken, coloring Easter Eggs, special feature: Inner Space. Looking for a 1980s Martin Short movie co-starring Meg Ryan and directed by Steven Spielberg? I thought so.

perky polly picked a peck of potent peppers

but puddly paula poked a pack of porous potatoes



This is discouraging. I may have to start wearing make up on a regular basis. I didn't think my world would ever come to this. But several times in the last few weeks, when I went in to work, my coworkers look at me with concern and ask how I'm doing. One of them went so far as to call me "peaked" (merriam-webster's definition - being pale and wan or emaciated: sickly). This, for the girl who was recognized by her 11th grade cross-country coach for being "most enthusiastic" runner. Because what else do you call a girl who finishes the 5k in 45 minutes and smiling. Still, me and "peaked" didn't even use to share a room.

Alternative remedies to make-up to counteract my pale and sickly demeanor:
- Wear a high pony tail tied with ribbons. Think high school cheer captain.
- Dress in pastels.
- Dark sunglasses, or those creepy glasses with the open eyes painted on the lenses.
- Do vigorous push-ups in my office whenever people walk by.
- Sit with my cheeks resting on my hands, so they're bright red whenever I look up.
- Spread Vaseline on my teeth for a more dazzling smile.
- Sit on an exercise ball instead of my office chair.
- Wear sneakers.
- Close my office door.
- Walk in singing a show tune. "Oooooklahoma!"

Maybe I'll just go to bed earlier.