This has been a smashingly good summer.

I know I complained about being sick during the first part of the summer, but since approximately mid-June, I’ve been feeling pretty fantastic!

R and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary with a marvelous trip to coastal Maine.  We took our kayaks and spent some time on the water.  We wandered through art galleries.  We ate lobster.  We had a glass of wine with every meal.  We got massages.  It was most excellent.

While on our trip, H went on a camping/fishing excursion with his grandparents.  H caught a 17-inch bass.  We are so proud.

H started swim lessons this week.  He’s doing great!

We’re doing other things, too.  Like visiting the library and the aquarium/science center.  Tending our small garden (we finally have sugar snap peas!).  Going on hikes.  Enjoying “picnics” on the front lawn.  And fitting in those house projects, slowly but surely.

H begins preschool on Sept. 1.  I go back to work (part-time) on August 29th.  I’ve started prepping my class, but I won’t have too much done ahead of time.  It’s just been hard to do it with H around.

I’m also feeling conflicted about work stuff.  For now, teaching 1 class/term is clearly a good choice.  It helps me keep my CV current, I get to feel like I am doing something productive outside of the house, etc.  And because I’m teaching an evening class, we don’t have to fuss with daycare.  These are all good things.  But I am starting to have second thoughts about pursuing the usability business.  Although usability research could be interesting, I keep feeling this tug back to my original field.  I just can’t shake the feeling that I am abandoning learning about the brain.  I feel like there’s something I am missing.

I recently submitted my very last manuscript from my postdoc.  Now I have no more data.  And I am jonesing a little bit.  I feel like I need to plan an experiment, execute it, and let the data roll in.  And today, I had a weird experience.  H was having his annual pediatrician appointment (that kid weighs nearly 37 pounds now!).  The pediatrician recalled a conversation we’d had 2 years ago, where I shared with her my controversial and as yet, untested, hypothesis about the effect of prenatal SSRIs on later development of autism.  Today, the pediatrician showed me a new paper just published in the Archives of General Psychiatry, which is suggestive of such a link (although causation still hasn’t been established).  It got me thinking about the animal model I had designed around this very idea, how I wanted to run some kick-ass studies to explore the model, and how everyone I talked to thought it was too speculative and too risky.  And now, here is some evidence to support it.  It made me think that I really know what I am doing, even if no one else seems to think so.  Several months ago, my postdoc advisor told me I was welcome to come back any time to tinker in the lab if I want to.  It was a nice offer.  And it’s tempting.  But I’d be a volunteer again.  And for what?  Would I be taking a step backwards?

I feel like I need to be choosy about my commitments these days.  I can only take on things that are going to advance my career, since I’ve already wasted 8 years building a career that just can’t happen here.  I keep thinking about how doing clinical neuropsychology would be right up my alley (and I would have a job here), but as I concluded months ago, it would be a long and expensive road.

Do I just need to teach part-time for a while, and think about it all some more before I delve into anything new?  It’s clear that I am conflicted.  It’s clear that I am not 100% committed to any one decision.  Maybe I should volunteer for the Brain Injury Association of Vermont.  Make some connections, learn some new things.  Maybe that would be good.

One question that has thrown me for a loop at the playground is this:  “Are you a stay-at-home mom?”  I wince whenever I hear it, and I quickly reply no.  Yes, you can hate me for saying this, but I’m just being honest.  I don’t know why the question always makes me feel so insulted.  I think it’s because the phrase “stay-at-home-mom” is insulting.  I don’t know any moms that *just* stay at home.  We’re all running around all the time, doing our parenting at the pool, the park, a restaurant, a friend’s house.  It’s not like mothering is relegated only to the private sphere, to be kept out of the public eye, like nudity, sex, or drug use.

But also, I feel like it’s a judgmental question.  Stay-at-home moms probably think I am selfish for working, and working moms probably think I lack ambition.  I am in the purgatory of the parenting work world, having “stayed at home,” worked part-time, worked full-time, and everything in between since having H.  I don’t really feel like I belong with any of them.

My best friends in VT do not have kids.  In some cases, they won’t ever.  And that’s awesome.  Nearly all of my friends in VT with kids are those who already had kids at the time I met them.  And now I am rambling.

I don’t know where I am going with this, other than to say I am nearly 100% sure that all of the moms I know struggle with career/identity/balance issues.  And also, I am nearly 100% sure that I have had conversations with nearly 0% of them about this fact.

Why is this?

A selection of H-bomb quotes from over the past year or so. Many of these you’ve probably seen before on Facebook or Twitter… but I couldn’t resist a round-up like this:

• “I can’t use the potty because my butt is not real!”
• “Bus is my safe word.”
• “Do you like my Ouroboros sander?”
• H. on the ice-maker: “It makes tears and sunshine.”
• “I work at the White House. Downtown.”
• “Pork chops are the lobster of steak.”
• upon seeing a Domino’s delivery car: “Pizza taxi!”
• talking about our car: “Can we paint it fire engine red?”
• R.: “If someone asks you where you learned to play doctor, you tell them ‘Columbia Medical School’.”
  H.: “Ha! That doesn’t mean anything!”
• ♬ If that diamond ring won’t shine ♬ Papa’s gonna buy you a dump truck bird! ♬
• H.: “Pee comes out of my penis. Poop comes out of my butt.”
  R.: “Yes, that’s true. And what comes out of your mouth?”
  H.: (pauses to think) “Snakes.”
• “I’m plowing the rug.”
• ♬ head – shoulders – knees & butt – knees & butt ♬
• H.: “What’s that?”
  R.: “It says Nature’s Path Organic Pumpkin Flax Plus Granola with Omega-3s.”
  H.: “No. It says Cheerio’s.”
• “I’m making truck soup.”
• H. (holding a calculator): “Fix it.”
  R.: “What’s wrong? What are you trying to do?”
  H.: “I’m trying to watch a video.”
• “It’s bed time if you fart.”
• “I’m a paradox in my own business.”
• H. (playing with his new toy cooktop): “Mommy, I’m cooking some vegetables!”
  A.: “What vegetables are you cooking?”
  H.: “Bacon!”
• “…and then Santa will come in through the water pipes!”
• H.: “Cute cute cute.”
  R.: “Who’s cute?”
  H.: “The babysitter.”
• “Grasshopper ass-whopper.”
• R.: “Do you want anything else?”
  H.: “I want Rice Che— I WANT ANYTHING ELSE!”
• R.: “Do you want to go home and nap?”
  H.: “No. I’m talking.” (image)
• after being presented with a bowl of ice cream: “Warm it up?”
• R.: “Papa farted—what do you say?”
  H.: “Thank you.”
• “I’m talking about whining.”
• upon seeing a hot rod: “Car wad!”

Our little Holden turned 3 years old last week.  It’s just incredible.  Holden has developed into a sensitive, talkative, daring, and above all, HILARIOUS, little guy.  I would say that Holden’s sense of humor is his most defining attribute, at this point.  He “gets” double entendres, puns, and other more subtle forms of humor.  He laughs often, imitates other people’s voices, and enjoys playing “jokes” on people.  At the same time, he can be very intent on doing something, devoting all of his concentration and energy on a goal.  Despite being a bit of a silly joker, he still gets very frustrated if things don’t go according to his expectations, or if he isn’t able to do something as well as he would like.  He has become an interesting combination of perseverance, hilarity, and intense contemplation.  He is dynamic, and I LOVE him.  He is the greatest gift I could ever have been granted.

What is he up to these days?  Well, for starters, he talks non-stop.  All day long.  In his chatter, I often hear imaginary conflicts unfold among the characters in his apocryphal childhood drama, punctuated by a stream of vehicular utterances.  He is a storyteller.

He also understands that text represents words, and he’s beginning to show interest in learning how to read.  He still loves books, as he always has, and now he is learning that letters encode sounds, and that individual sounds create words when put together.  He’s learned how to spell a few words, even!  It’s amazing!  (Sometime, ask me about the R-rated reason that he learned to spell “kitty”).  He’s potty-trained (95% of the time) and he sleeps through the night (75% of the time):)  His favorite toy is still his wooden train set, even after an entire year of nearly round-the-clock use.  He loves animals, carpentry tools, gardening, painting, girls (yikes!), hiking, and making fun of me when I run on the treadmill.  He yells at the cat for being too close to his toys, but shares well with other kids.

He whines a lot sometimes.

He is a snuggler, and I still lay with him in his bed for 5 minutes every night as he drifts off to sleep.  He usually clutches my hand, squeezes it, and smiles back at me.  I kiss him on the forehead and tell him I love him.  He replies “I love you, too.”  Then I close the door, walk down the hallway, and think about how lucky and exhausted I am.  Lucky and exhausted.  The paradigmatic mother.

Here’s some time-lapse Holden:

June 22, 2008

June 22, 2009

June 22, 2010

June 22, 2011

…that I am sick again.  Over the weekend I started to feel rundown again.  Slight fever, aches, fatigue, sore throat, ringing in the ears, sinus pressure, headache, ear pain.  It’s now Tuesday and I am feeling about the same, maybe slightly more tired.  Yesterday I managed to get H out of the house on a hike, thinking it would tire him out, but instead, it just tired *me* out.  Today I appear to be paying the price, because I am really, really wiped.

Today I actually locked H out of my bedroom so I could cry.  I cried because I’m at the end of my rope with being sick.  I am tired of being sick for a couple of weeks with a week or so reprieve, followed by more sickness.  I am frustrated with my doctors and my own inability to get myself healthy again.  I am irritated by the well-meaning advice of friends.  Everyone hates to see me like this, and they really do want me to get better, but if I hear “Have you tried getting enough sleep?” or “Eat your veggies!” or “Just eliminate yeast from your diet!” or “Try a naturopathic physician” one more time, I am going to slam my head through a wall.  I’ve tried everything—supplements, exercising, not exercising, neti pot, antibiotics, herbal teas, steam, acupuncture, gluten and dairy free diet for 3 months, etc.  I’m tapped out.  I’m tired of thinking about it, I’m tired of explaining to other people that yes, I really do take care of myself, and no, I don’t stay up till 3 AM shooting heroin.

If I sound bitter, it’s because I am.  I feel like my life is on hold until I’m able to turn this around.  Today, I have so little energy, that I can’t do anything with H.  It’s horrible.  I can’t even contemplate the huge task of starting my business this fall, or of developing my course for the fall, which I still have yet to do.  I can’t think about any of it.  It’s just too exhausting to think about.  And of course, the house reno projects are on hold whenever I feel like this.  Today, my grand accomplishments were one load of laundry, changing the sheets on the beds, doing a load of dishes (but not putting them away), watering the plants, taking H to the park, and answering “Why” questions all day.  That’s it.

So, I guess the only way for me to really deal with this is to just forget about all of the stuff I want to accomplish.  It’s too daunting and depressing to think about how all of that stuff is just waiting to get done.  Forget the business, forget the the house projects, forget the class I’m supposed to teach.  Half ass everything when it gets down to the wire.  Focus on take caring of myself, and focus on H.

Two steps forward, one step back.

That is an apt description for life these days, it seems.  H has taken to potty training in a big way.  He takes it pretty seriously (more so than we do), and within 4 days of committing to underwear only, he began to have accident-free days.  The problem with this (wait, there’s a problem?!!), is that for some insane reason, he has decided to potty train himself for nighttime, too.  Our intent was to not worry about nighttime at all for at least another year.  We were fine with throwing him in a diaper or pull-up for nighttime, and calling it a day.  What has happened instead is this:  H uses the potty before bed.  We put him in a diaper or pull-up, and stick him in some PJs.  We tuck him in.  He proceeds to wake up 3 or 4 times throughout the night to go to the potty.

Oh-em-gee.

We are tired.

I can’t exactly say, “Holden, don’t bother with the potty, just keep peeing in your diaper.”  No, that would not be a sane thing to do.  So, we are running with it.  Sleep deprivation and all.

We are exhausted and HE is exhausted, with all of the middle-of-the-night trips to the potty.  His patience and mood have suffered because of it—remember, this is a child who has not napped for an entire year.  Until, a few days ago.  He was actually so exhausted from his nighttime bathroom excursions, that he took a 2-hour nap.  He hasn’t done that in 12 months.  You know what I did while he slept?  I painted the wood paneling in my fucking dining room.

The 2-hour nap from the other day was unfortunately a one-time stint.  H continues to be exhausted during the day—he snaps at me easily, screams at the cat for getting too close to his toys, spits, throws things, and yells.  He’s not like this all the time, and yes, most of this is normal almost-3-year-old behavior, but it does seem to be going to a whole new level since we started using the potty a couple of weeks ago.

Even still, it’s a necessary step that gets us a bit closer to the beginning of preschool this September.  Growing up is tumultuous, painful, exhausting, and beautiful.