Light and Momentary

Seven Quick Takes: Astonished Edition

1. In the wee small hours of yesterday morning, I sent the dissertation off to my committee. They have two weeks to read it, and then on March 10 they will convene. I will present for about an hour and they will grill me for about an hour, and then they will decide whether or not I pass. Passing is the most likely outcome. My advisor wouldn't have let me proceed if she had any doubts, because it would be really bad for her tenure case if I failed and also because she is a really kind person who would never set me up for failure. Me, though, I am seizing the opportunity to be doubtful because that's how my anxious little brain seems to operate. Part of me can't believe it: I wrote a dissertation. I'm almost finished with my Ph.D.
2. To celebrate I went out and bought sock yarn. Two skeins, because I know how to live it up. Then I came home and organized my yarn. (My husband is going to sigh a sad little sigh when he reads that part. Right now our house looks like its keeper has been completing a dissertation and mothering five children, with not much time to spare for filing or culling magazines or tidying the back entryway where the feral shoes are nesting and plotting house-wide hegemony. There are many things that need organizing around here, and the yarn was not what you'd call a pressing organizational need. But it makes me happy to have my stash organized.)
3. It is perhaps a little wacky that I then made myself a knitting to-do list. I have been doing the Ravelympics (because hey, wrapping up a dissertation isn't enough to fill my time here in the last half of February), and I am going to have to sprint to the finish line. I am making a little Tomten Jacket and while I have all kinds of embellishments in mind for it (applied I-cord edging! afterthought pockets! little felt flowers appliqued around the bottom!), I am going to be happy to get the seams sewn and the zipper in by Sunday evening when the Olympics end. 
4. All this time spent writing and revising has made me weary of the sound of my own voice. It also makes me glad I'm not writing a dissertation in the humanities! Kudos to Lilian and blogless Rachel (who should totally start a blog) -- I don't think I could do it. I had good intentions about replying to all of your encouraging comments (I still have good intentions about that), but I was tired of hearing myself yammer on. And on.
5.  I am struck by the irony of continuing to blog when I am complaining about the sound of my own voice.
6. And when my house looks like its organizational scheme was dreamed up by Cornish pixies run amok. (Was it Cornish pixies that wreaked havoc in Chamber of Secrets?)
7. So we'll make these last takes really really quick. Thank you, everybody, for all of your encouragement. It's been such a help to me.

Mardi Gras Screenshots

I just sent my advisor an email.

It will take her some time to read.

But I hope she perseveres, because it has a happy ending.

Typing this part brought tears to my eyes. (More in comments.)

Typing this part made me smile.

Now I am going to eat some Mardi Gras ice cream. And go to bed.

Seven Quick Takes: Piecemeal Edition

1. My 10yo had a big project due today, and we were working until bedtime last night to get all the parts and pieces printed out and presented neatly. When we finished, he sighed with relief. He said, "Mom, have you ever had a big project and a deadline and you weren't sure if you could get it finished?" I said, "Yes, darling, I sure have."


2. Are you sick of hearing about my dissertation? Do you wish I would stop grousing about it? Believe me, I am SO ready to stop talking about my dissertation. But it is crunch time, crunchy crunchy crunch time, and I am crunching away. Today I am trying to get chapter 4 revised. I have five chunks left, and I am going to write a quick take each time I finish one. Watch this space -- I'll see if I can get it finished by bedtime.


3. I had a moment of blogger's regret when I realized that my oldest son had commented on my MathCounts post without reading the other comments. I felt churlish for not responding (belatedly, thank you all for the congratulations and good wishes and reminiscences), and especially about not remembering that Tracy had mentioned the "mathlete" thing. I asked him if he might like to comment again after reading the nice things people said about him, and he said, "This is why I don't want you to blog about me." SIGH.
   
   If you have wondered why I rarely blog about my sons, it's because my oldest went through a stretch where he didn't want me to write about him at all, and I realized how quickly his brothers would be the same age. I remember WRITHING in embarrassment when I was in junior high and my mother talked to one of her friends about me. Imagine if she had posted it on the web! It makes a person grateful to have come of age in the era of carrier pigeons. More or less.
   
   I mostly blog about the baby because if she does get to junior high and say, "How could you write about me like that? All those posts about how cute I was and how much you all loved me?" -- then I will tell her as lovingly as possible to get a grip. And I won't even feel guilty about it.


4. On the subject of blogging about kids, it's hard to know what to blog without seeming braggy. If I restrict myself from talking about our struggles, then I'm left with telling you how super-awesome my kids are. And of course they are super-awesome, but they're also real kids and they make real messes and they do things that leave me spluttering real splutters. It's a tricky balance.


5. For instance: they're really into numbers. Rob commented about thinking that "8!" in the supergeek post meant 8 factorial. They love factorials. They talk about them all the time. On the playground last fall, a kid said to Joe, "My dad could beat up your dad!" Joe said, "As if! I bet your dad doesn't even know what 8 factorial is!" I was astonished the day before yesterday, when the 10yo asked him, "What's 8 factorial?" and Joe answered right away: 40,320. Weird, huh?
   
   It's hard to get the tone right, to make it clear that I am not saying "Behold, my genius children" -- only trying to share a snapshot of life in our family, where we all like numbers but where I am on my fourth attempt to tape the dryer vent back together. We're not so much with the handy around here, about which more later.


6. Our dryer wasn't working right. It would get hot and spin the clothes around, but it took them forever to dry. So I took it apart. (She said modestly, secretly pleased with her hexhead-screwdriver-wielding self.) Inside I found enough lint to make a baby sweater, enough change to buy a cup of coffee (in 1990), and enough buttons to open a haberdashery. (A very small haberdashery.) Also, an assortment of Lego pieces and rocks.
   
   The dryer works much better now, except I have to tape the vent hose again. You would think that duct tape would be just the thing for taping ducts, but it doesn't hold. I have new tape and steely resolve -- not to mention an alarming pile of laundry. If the PhD thing doesn't work out, maybe I can go into dryer repair.


7. My brain hurts. Revising is slow. The end.

More quick takes, most of which are probably finished, are here.

Attack of the Spammers

Is anybody else having a little explosion of trackback spam? More than half of my email this morning was notifications of spammy trackbacks. I could solve the problem by turning off my trackbacks -- it's been a couple of years since anybody used one legitimately -- but they make me kind of nostalgic for the halcyon days of 2004.

Gah! Another one came in as I was typing this post. I was remembering how I started blogging, after I found Chez Miscarriage while glumly googling "miscarriage prevention." I don't know what happened to Getupgrrl, but I am still grateful for the way she made me laugh out loud on a bleak day.

Gah again! Two more as I was sitting here reminiscing -- connecting with Arwen after I posted about the Liturgy of the Hours, meeting up with Summer on a trip to DC when Pete was only 2 months old, giving my home address to Magda with a little trepidation, agreeing to disagree about Bush with Lauren.

Oh, well, it will never be 2004 again, and life's too short to spend very much of it deleting pharma spam. I'm turning off trackbacks. It was a fun trip down memory lane, though.

Son of Supergeek

I have posted before about my sports indifference. It's a point of contention between Elwood and me, because he thinks a kid should have a sport. I can see where he's coming from. I will sign the boys up for soccer or swimming or whatever. I will get them to the practices. I will take snacks on schedule. But honestly? I cannot muster much enthusiasm for the whole thing.

Today was the MathCounts competition for our area; I went to watch the head-to-head competition at the end. And what do you know, I found my inner soccer mom.

Seven Quick Takes: The Edition In Which I Break Out My Imaginary Lasso

1. It was SO helpful to me to post that list yesterday. When I was tempted to get discouraged or off-task, I kept my eyes on the prize: <s>. I don't know what it says about me that I am so motivated by crossing things off lists, but I am.


2. When I posted it, I thought I would get it all done in one day. I don't know what it says about me that I consistently have completely unreasonable expectations for myself, but I do.


3. On the subject of completely unreasonable expectations, remember my New Year's resolutions? FlyLady got flung under the dissertation bus and my daily decade average is probably only in the high single digits, but I had been doing well with not eating sugar until the weekend. And then blam -- it always takes me by surprise, how much worse I feel when I start eating sugar again. Energy, equilibrium, everything. Blech.


4. On the subject of blech, I have to revise my results chapter this weekend and there are so many things I'd rather do. Organize the basement! Replace the annoying flapper valve on the downstairs toilet! Clean out the dryer lint hose! Have a recreational root canal! Go through childbirth! At least after childbirth you get a baby. My dissertation is not going to be very cute or very cuddly. If I lie down and die of dissertationosis in the next couple of weeks, put it on my tombstone: Here Lies Jamie, Done In By Figures 3.1 and 3.2 Because Lordy They Just Would Not Cooperate.


5. Sorry, this quick takes post has been interrupted by the search for a lasso with which to rein in my inner drama queen.


6. Huh, with my inner drama queen tied up (imagine Miss Piggy in one of the Muppet movies, tossing her hair and squealing and demanding to be freed in order to write more epitaphs for herself), I don't have very much to say.


7. How about a baby story? With all of my babies I have played a silly game. I ease them down over my shoulder, holding their ankles as they dangle down my back, and say, "Oh, dear, I've lost my baby! Where could he be? I'd better look around for him." Then I turn around in gentle circles and usually the upside-down baby giggles at silly Mama. Holding on very carefully, I say, "Oh, no, I've lost my baby AND there's a big LUMP on my back. What could it be?" I slide them down all the way until we can peek at each other through my knees. (I am doing a terrible job of explaining this.) I say, "OH, it's YOU! I'm so glad to see you!" and we both laugh as I set them down on the floor.
   
   Stella does not think this is a fun game. She clings to my back like some kind of fierce little marsupial and will not slide down. I have almost given up trying it with her, but the boys and I had so much fun with it when they were toddlers. I want to tell her, "If you could relax a little, sweetie, and trust that you were in good hands, you would have more fun."
   
   Which could be a lesson for her mother as well.

More quick takes here.

Sorry, it's a list

I know, it's really boring, COLOSSALLY boring, to read someone else's to-do list. But I need a little extra motivation today, so I am posting it. I love to come back and insert those happy little <s> guys.

1. Send off chapter 2 revisions.
2. Send off chapter 4 revisions.
3. Finish draft of cover letter.
4. Draft last part of conference application.
5. Get three two one more loads of laundry washed and dried so kids need not wear barrels + suspenders to school tomorrow.
6. Send off package that needs returning.

A cranky pep talk

Oh, internet, I have been in this ridiculous tailspin, not getting anything accomplished. Anything! It's like I got all stressed out about having a completed draft, like part of me doesn't really want to finish this degree or is afraid of what comes next or is perhaps just a raging wackaloon.

I am applying for a job and I am nervous. I got rejected for that faculty position, which is fine because I really didn't want it, but now I'm braced for more rejection. I can't get past the first paragraph in my cover letter. If I don't apply they can't reject me, right?

I am applying to present at a conference in June and I am stuck on that application too. It could be really fun -- I was trying to persuade my husband that we should slip away to this cool city for a few days, just him and me and the baby -- but I have to get unstuck first.

We got in an argument yesterday over the stupidest thing: the sheets came off one of the boys' beds. Minor, yes? Not a big deal, am I right? Except it was one of those arguments where -- whoosh! -- all of a sudden it's ugly for no good reason. I'm still mad.

I told my advisor I'd get her a batch of revisions by the middle of this week. That would be today, and I am nowhere. Nowhere! Perhaps the most exasperating thing is that I just need to put my head down and WORK for an hour, maybe an hour and a half. I've been busy thinking up passive-aggressive Valentine's Day cards instead, because I'm mature and forgiving like that.

Blargh. And blargh some more.

I am going to flex my atrophying diligensius muscle (oh, shut up, spellcheck, it is totally a muscle) and see what I can crank through before I need to get to bed. But sometimes a person just needs to say it out loud: internet, it's time for me to get over myself already.