Just call her "Cakes"...
We have been having fun with nicknames lately, with the girls getting to decide what nickname they would like for the day. Holden, of course, is sort of stuck with "Cutie Pie." Noella has a strong preference for "Buddy." Mariel likes a bit of variety, but has tended towards "Baby cakes," which her Babci calls her. She has decided that "Baby cakes" is a bit too juvenille for a girl of her stature (in elementary school and all) so has asked us to shorten it. So some days she now goes by "Cakes."
Friday, September 23, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Apple sauce is for the wild and daring
It has recently come to my attention that I am viewed by my students and potentially others as "sweet." Even more damning, "midwestern." I regularly get comments on student evaluations such as "Dr. Flaherty is a really sweet lady." and similar. Last week the projector refused to work at an inopportune time during one of my lectures. As I cursed under my breath, one of the students heard and gasped. "Dr. Flaherty!" he said. "I do swear." I told him, with a smile. "I'm a grown up." "I know," he replied, "But you are just a sweet midwestern mom!"
This lead to a little bit of self-reflection. Lets see... Woman in her thirties with three kids and two dogs. Clean house. Drives a minivan. Obsesses over sleeping schedules. Does laundry every night. Likes to cook. Has "date nights" with her husband in which they do things like make pickles and watch old television shows on DVDs.
GASP. Is this what I have become? Where is my edge? My mystery? My ability to surprise people with all of my interesting juxtapositions and uniqueness? Instead, I have become a very traditional and yes, very midwestern, wife and mother. There is little trace of someone who once skinny dipped and hitchhiked and could still cook a damn fine dinner if she made it back in time before heading to the bar.
How do I get that edginess back and persuade my students that I am not as boring and definitely not as sweet as I appear? Should I start wearing black leather to classes and spit on the students?
Is this what happens when one becomes an adult (and yes, I realize that I have probably made that transition too, but I can only handle one crisis at a time)?
Patrick and I discussed this today. He seems to feel that even if we move to a different region of the country, I will continue to be wholesome, sweet, and perhaps less midwestern, but still a wife and mother. Of course, my quest to be wild, dark and dangerous is hampered by the fact that we spent the morning picking apples and I am now canning apple sauce and apple butter. I fear that food preserving, even with the presence of boiling water, is extremely midwestern, very sweet, and probably wholesome. Gosh darn it, whats next? Oh wait, I still have buttons to sew back on to Mariel's coat. And then I will go to bed early....
It has recently come to my attention that I am viewed by my students and potentially others as "sweet." Even more damning, "midwestern." I regularly get comments on student evaluations such as "Dr. Flaherty is a really sweet lady." and similar. Last week the projector refused to work at an inopportune time during one of my lectures. As I cursed under my breath, one of the students heard and gasped. "Dr. Flaherty!" he said. "I do swear." I told him, with a smile. "I'm a grown up." "I know," he replied, "But you are just a sweet midwestern mom!"
This lead to a little bit of self-reflection. Lets see... Woman in her thirties with three kids and two dogs. Clean house. Drives a minivan. Obsesses over sleeping schedules. Does laundry every night. Likes to cook. Has "date nights" with her husband in which they do things like make pickles and watch old television shows on DVDs.
GASP. Is this what I have become? Where is my edge? My mystery? My ability to surprise people with all of my interesting juxtapositions and uniqueness? Instead, I have become a very traditional and yes, very midwestern, wife and mother. There is little trace of someone who once skinny dipped and hitchhiked and could still cook a damn fine dinner if she made it back in time before heading to the bar.
How do I get that edginess back and persuade my students that I am not as boring and definitely not as sweet as I appear? Should I start wearing black leather to classes and spit on the students?
Is this what happens when one becomes an adult (and yes, I realize that I have probably made that transition too, but I can only handle one crisis at a time)?
Patrick and I discussed this today. He seems to feel that even if we move to a different region of the country, I will continue to be wholesome, sweet, and perhaps less midwestern, but still a wife and mother. Of course, my quest to be wild, dark and dangerous is hampered by the fact that we spent the morning picking apples and I am now canning apple sauce and apple butter. I fear that food preserving, even with the presence of boiling water, is extremely midwestern, very sweet, and probably wholesome. Gosh darn it, whats next? Oh wait, I still have buttons to sew back on to Mariel's coat. And then I will go to bed early....
Monday, September 12, 2011
4 months old!
Holden is officially 4 months old! If you happen to see Mariel, you will find out that she also turned 5 and a half on the same day (September 10). She has been telling everyone, which leads to much confusion as the rest of the world does not routinely celebrate half birthdays like we do.
Here is our big man:
Friday, September 09, 2011
The Accidental Expert
For some reason, a mother of three seems to be considered by many people as an expert in parenthood. I am suddenly being asked by many people- friends, colleagues, complete strangers- how one "does it". This is NOT an exaggeration.
Store cashiers have asked me for labor advice, how to lose baby weight, and about strollers. At one store, the cashier really wanted to discuss her boyfriends ambivalent reaction to her pregnancy... and this was with a line of 5 people behind me.
Colleagues want to know how to balance work and kids (My answer: there is no such thing as balance in your life. And if there was, it is likely that you are not a well calibrated scale, anyway). How to decide what is the best job for them? (Oddly, my answer is that the best job for them is actually up to them to determine, and has nothing to do with what anyone else thinks. Given our professional obsession with what other people think, this is NOT the acceptable answer in academia.)
But here is the question: Why does the third child, who is really just born and has not yet given me too much trouble, make me an expert? I did not get all of these questions with two kids, and certainly not from strangers. All that I have proven by, say, going to the grocery store with three kiddos in tow, is that I am both fertile and still capable of going out in public... is our bar for parenting so low that this counts as an accomplishment?
At a conference last week I met a well known scholar who in a panel discussion mentioned the question of balancing work and family. Her next comment was something about her eight kids. I'm sorry, eight? I think that the next time someone asks me for advice, I will refer them to her.
For some reason, a mother of three seems to be considered by many people as an expert in parenthood. I am suddenly being asked by many people- friends, colleagues, complete strangers- how one "does it". This is NOT an exaggeration.
Store cashiers have asked me for labor advice, how to lose baby weight, and about strollers. At one store, the cashier really wanted to discuss her boyfriends ambivalent reaction to her pregnancy... and this was with a line of 5 people behind me.
Colleagues want to know how to balance work and kids (My answer: there is no such thing as balance in your life. And if there was, it is likely that you are not a well calibrated scale, anyway). How to decide what is the best job for them? (Oddly, my answer is that the best job for them is actually up to them to determine, and has nothing to do with what anyone else thinks. Given our professional obsession with what other people think, this is NOT the acceptable answer in academia.)
But here is the question: Why does the third child, who is really just born and has not yet given me too much trouble, make me an expert? I did not get all of these questions with two kids, and certainly not from strangers. All that I have proven by, say, going to the grocery store with three kiddos in tow, is that I am both fertile and still capable of going out in public... is our bar for parenting so low that this counts as an accomplishment?
At a conference last week I met a well known scholar who in a panel discussion mentioned the question of balancing work and family. Her next comment was something about her eight kids. I'm sorry, eight? I think that the next time someone asks me for advice, I will refer them to her.
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