Mom Minutes

"Two friends separate, with one of them living in the plains and the other going to live in the mountains. They meet up again years later: the one who has stayed down has lived less, aged less, the mechanism of his cuckoo clock has oscillated fewer times. He has had less time to do things, his plants have grown less, his thoughts have had less time to unfold... Lower down, there is simply less time than at altitude." 

- Carlo Rovelli The Order of Time -

Time is a complicated concept. I'm currently reading The Order of Time by Carlo Rovelli. In it, Dr. Rovelli explains the ways in which time is irregular. Time passes at different speeds for a person depending on their altitude and their speed. Time on other planets is different from time on Earth. Time is a problematic variable in physics because it is a variable with variables.

I know it's a pathetic comparison, but today it had me thinking about mom-time. There's less time closer to sea level than in the mountains... and it seems like there's less time after you have kids than there was before.

I dropped my girls off at school this morning and, while we were in car-line, I told them I'm only about four classes away from getting my biology degree! I told them because I'm really excited that I've made it this far. I've been in school for four years and I've had to limit myself and take it a little slower than some other students because I've got a lot of other responsibilities, but I'm almost there! However, the response I got was, "Daddy already has his degree."

Their dad, my ex-husband, just graduated last weekend. He has a bachelors in math. I'm happy for him, but I don't want to be compared to him. I don't want my kids to think of this as a race that daddy won. Especially since daddy was a single, childless dude for about 91.95% of the time he was pursuing that degree while I have not had anywhere near that luxury.

The kids have existed since well before he started working on this degree, sure... but he had them for about 29 hours every other weekend (unless he was too busy). He never had to schedule or attend eye exams or doctors visits or spend hours in urgent care when one of them was sick on a weekend. He didn't have to take four kids (or even just his three kids) shoe shopping or clothes shopping or school supply shopping or birthday shopping. He didn't have to plan their birthdays or make their cakes or cook their meals or make sure they take baths. He rarely even had to help them with their homework, and I would estimate that when that obligation fell to him, he forgot it somewhere near half of the time and it wound up being my job anyway.

He has called and told me he was too sick to take them or he was concerned that he was getting sick and didn't want to take them or he had so much homework to do... can we trade weekends. I have never done any of that to him. When I ask to trade weekends, it is always because of an activity the kids want to do or a vacation we're taking with them.

I might be a little bitter. I'm so close to getting my degree! He already has his. He didn't have to get a job because I allowed him to pay very reduced child support while he was in school. He didn't have the kids most of the time and I was flexible about his scheduled weekends when he said he wanted to skip or switch for a variety of reasons. And while his achievement of his goals is good for everyone, and yesterday I was happy for him and excited for my own future... that comment my daughter made in response to my excitement really shot it down.

As a mom, I saw my ex-husband's degree as a worthy goal for him and an important lesson for our children. I felt that they should see him working toward that and how it changes his life, hopefully for the better. I agreed to many compromises, wanting to see him succeed because I believe it is best for our kids. But with all of the responsibility we take on, and the compromises we make, there is less time for moms.

What took him four years might take me five and a half. For every four classes he was able to take, I have been been able to take about three. When I have a list of things I need to get done in a day, I have to plan for lost shoes, un-synchronized potty breaks, buckling and unbuckling of numerous seat belts, arguing over who has to sit next to little brother, and pouting an refusing to cooperate. Sometimes I spend 15 or 20 extra minutes trying to find something my five-year-old left in the store when he screams at me after I've already loaded the groceries in the car.

I just finished a semester. Here's what my general schedule looked like:

Hubby took all of the kids to school on Tuesdays because I couldn't. Cub gets out of school early on Fridays, so I couldn't do much with my bisected time. You see a lot of space for research/homework... let me explain. I have a research project I've been working on for two years with some great people. However, our schedules never seemed to sync, so I frequently spent that time working on research papers for classes, researching grad schools, talking to professors about my grades or grad school or our research, or trying to organize my life. I couldn't do a lot of my chemistry homework without help, so hubby and I worked on it after the kids went to bed about once a week.

Hubby doesn't get home until sometime between 5:30 and 6:00 pm. He got a new job with a different company in January, so he can't work from home as much as he used to and his hours are more difficult. He also doesn't answer his phone like used to at his old job. All in all, I'm more alone than I used to be, but not as alone as many moms out there (single moms amaze me!).

Weekends! Weekends are for grocery shopping, laundry, guilt-cleaning (you know what I'm talking about) and taking care of other catastrophes (e.g., emergency shoe run when a 5th grader's sneakers start leaking, and clothes shopping when their jeans suddenly don't fit, then on to the fabric store for that class project they have coming up...). Once in a while, if we've planned especially well and worked extra hard... we get to go hiking on the weekend!

It just feels like I'm constantly in motion and running from one obligation to another. Everything takes longer and there's more that needs to be done. It's like the fabric of space-time has some special kind of wrinkle just for moms. It's taking longer to get my degree and I'm still losing my mind in the process. But I only have four classes left to take! I'm almost there! In fact, I could finish it in a semester if three of those classes weren't sequential. I'm going to get there... and then keep going!

One of the things I learned the hard way was that it doesn't pay to get discouraged. Keeping busy and making optimism a way of life can restore your faith in yourself. - Lucille Ball

Disclaimer: When I say "moms", I hope you know I mean parents of any gender who take on the majority of the child-raising responsibilities... not just women who have children. "Mom" is just easier to say.

Sources:
Rovelli, Carlo, et al. The Order of Time. Riverhead Books, 2018.

This is Political

John says, "Man, I got to go out in my Halloween costume with no coat last weekend!"
Sally sarcastically cheers, "Thanks Global Warming!"

Today, my genetics class talked about sickle cell anemia. I asked my professor if he thought that the area affected by sickle cell anemia might expand in the same way we're seeing with the malarial belt, as the global climate changes. Individuals who are heterozygous for sickle cell anemia (meaning they have one copy of a normal red blood cell gene and one copy of a sickle cell gene) are at a reproductive advantage in areas also affected by malaria because the odd-shaped red blood cells are more easily damaged, which encourages the body to dispose of old cells more quickly, thus interrupting the life cycle of the malaria parasite.

We came to the conclusion that, in a world without modern medicine, that would probably be the case, eventually. If sickle cell anemia improves your chances of surviving malaria, it follows that selective pressure would push the two forward in the same places. But that wasn't the only value in our conversation.

I came face to face with my scientific privilege today. In a room scattered with college students, I threw up my hands and said, "okay, let's talk about global warming!" and I got an entertained smirk from my professor, but it was clear that no one in the room was a denier... at least not vocally. This is the crowd I'm used to. I ask questions about how disease, migration, habitats, and human activity are affected by climate change. All this time I figured we were all on the same page.

But this election has me turn on my head. I keep hearing about candidates who don't believe in climate change. How is that even possible?! It's HAPPENING! It is measurable! And it's not just that we got to go trick-or-treating without our coats on this year. You can see it in the Northward spread of malaria and the change in migration of the birds and the melting ice caps and the vanishing ski resorts and yearly restrictions on watering your lawn. If you want to do the math, all the charts will show you an unprecedented and horrifying climb. Even if you're still on the fence about it, you could at least err on the side of caution in case all those scientists actually know what they're talking about, because the predictions for the consequences are truly apocalyptic.

I can't vote for a person who thinks all of those highly educated, hard-working, award-winning scientists are just wasting their time by trying to warn us about our own undoing. But that's only one of the backwards things I'm hearing about.

I won't let a man tell my daughters that the things Donald said are, "just locker room talk." It disgusted me to see him say it at the debate. We watch those with our kids! No matter what he wants you to believe, a good man doesn't talk that way about women, even in private. He judges women on their appearance and bad mouths them for not having big enough breasts. Then he says no one has more respect for women than he does... Well, I DO!

It seems like everywhere I turn, I read an admonition against voting for this man, and not a single one of them lists all of the reasons I could come up with. I think it's because there are too many. But people are still voting for him... which scares me.

My fear is not that the orange man will become president. My fear is that this country is a hot damn mess if these are the people we have put forth as our options for POTUS. Plus, I'm realizing that, as close as this elections has been, I clearly don't understand a surprising number of people in my own country.

I have so much more to say. I've been stewing in this anxiety/depression/rage/disappointment bubble for far too long. This election cycle is painful and probably ruinous, especially to my outlook on my fellow Americans. But I voted. I just want this to be over.

School is Cool?

It has been almost a month since we decided to put M and S in public school. Shortly after they started their classes, I started mine: I am on campus five days a week this semester and I have field work to do. I knew it was going to be a difficult schedule and an uncomfortable transition, but assumed we just needed some time to adjust. Now, I'm not sure.

Laundry isn't getting done or folded. The playroom is rarely getting cleaned. Every time papa mentions some as yet unscheduled activity, I want to shoot it down because I immediately assume anything new is going to be the thing that makes my google calendar explode. On top of that stress, I'm having very mixed feelings about this public school business.

M is in first grade. She's doing fine. She's a little behind with her reading, but we knew that. I think sending her to school has renewed her motivation to pick up sight words and work through short books. Something about having her teacher backing us up, and sending home packets of stuff to work on has made her more serious. She's got someone new to impress, I guess.

Her teacher, a young man so tall and muscular that he would be intimidating if he weren't so darn friendly, is optimistic. He also uses a program called "class dojo" to keep in contact with parents, which I really appreciate. I have had to use the app to ask him for advice on getting the dry erase markers out of her clothes, and he is able to inform me if she is having a moody day.

S, on the other hand, is in fourth grade. She is struggling with more than just the academic part of public school. Her teacher says she's struggling with math and handwriting. The handwriting doesn't surprise me, but she's doing the math homework just fine, with almost no help... and choking on the quizzes in class. She made friends, but her friends are the target of playground bullying. She shares her classroom table with two boys who argue with each other constantly and have no interest in her, and a girl who doesn't speak much English. She doesn't want to go. She mopes every weekday morning, and her teacher describes her (on the phone with me) as "sad".

I have talked to S's teacher only once. I have never seen her. I knew about the playground bullying several days before I was able to tell her teacher... who apparently didn't know. I could have guessed that S was sad in class, but I didn't know until the end of last week, when she finally called.

S says she feels like her teacher cares about her. So, now that she knows about the playground situation, and I know about the all-day sadness, it's time to see if things improve. The teacher wants to try moving S to a different table and says the school takes bullying "very seriously". But I'm skeptical about bullying policies. I'm not sure that any amount of "seriously" is going to fix the problem. Still, we intend to give this a few more weeks to work itself out before we deploy the parachute... and we're not quite sure what that is going to be just yet.

Unrealistic Expectations

I just finished that three-week intensive course on field methods which involved poison ivy exposure and several days of sweating without showers. The girls all went to their great-grandparents' house in Colorado Springs for a week while I camped at the field site. Cub stayed home with Papa, who worked from home for the first time so I could go be a sweaty (but kick-ass) mess. I couldn't do what I do without help from all of the incredible people in my life.

Even so, I have a very hard time getting things done. In fact, lots of things don't get done. I gave my final presentation yesterday. I was home at about noon. Since then, I have been trying to catch up on laundry, vacuuming, yard maintenance, general tidying and cleaning, and sleep. But there's a fallen limb in our back yard which has been sitting in the same place for months because Papa and I can't seem to find the simultaneous time and energy to hack it up with a hatchet.

During a regular semester, I fill my "off" days with laundry, cleaning, and appointments. Homeschooling get sprinkled in between switching loads or while we sit in the waiting room or while I'm technically doing my own homework, or as we share a meal. I need to get the kids to the dentist, but I keep forgetting to call the office, and when I do think about it, the thought of trying to wedge one more thing into the calendar is a little upsetting.

Saturdays are our leisure days. We go to the park or the zoo or the museum. Sometimes we stay home and play video games together. Sundays are filled with grocery shopping. We spend so much time grocery shopping.

And, next semester, it looks like I might be taking a 9am class on Tuesday and Thursday and an 8am class on Monday and Wednesday. Plus, I have an online class and I'm trying to get involved with an undergraduate research project.

People are always telling me they don't know how I do it. The truth is, I don't know either. It seems like I'm constantly having to cut corners and make sacrifices. And, once a season or so, I have a minor melt-down and cry a little bit about how much pressure I deal with and the sisyphean struggles of being a mom and a woman.

Despite the fact that we, as a society, are beginning to accept that not every man marries a woman and that not every woman becomes a mother or a homemaker, we are still judging ourselves and other women based on ridiculous "happy homemaker" metrics from the 50's like:

• The relative order or chaos of her home
• The deliciousness, creativity, and from-scratchness of her food
• The stylishness of her hair
• Her makeup skills and commitment to doing her makeup every day
• Her fashion sense
• Her kids (by any standard you can imagine)

I know because I do it, even though I know better. I know because I see other people doing it even though, if I asked them about it, I'm sure most would say it's wrong. And I know because I judge myself by these standards, in part because I assume others will. 

But you know what?

I can maintain my makeup and my fashion sense and cook from-scratch meals every day if I'm also on a tight schedule teaching my kids to be little angels and maintaining my cutting edge hair style and cleaning and organizing my house... AND going to school. Someday I'll have a career and I definitely won't be able to do it all then. We can't ask women (or anyone for that matter) to juggle this many obligations. 

If I were the president, or the first lady for that matter, I doubt I'd have to cook all my own meals and clean my house and somehow also be the main source of child care and the leader of the free world all while looking amazing. But the peanut gallery is always going to be there to judge me for not spending enough time with my kids, not keeping my house clean enough or my yard pretty enough if I have a career... and then judge me for being lazy and complacent and perpetuating gender stereotypes if I choose to be a stay-at-home mom.

So I think I need to take a step back and realize that I'm asking too much of myself. Maybe that's because society seems to ask too much of all women, but regardless, I can refuse to get caught up in it. The trouble is, I'm not sure I'm ever going to be okay with lowering my standards, even if I stop caring what other people think. But it's a start. 

In conclusion: Screw you, societal standards. My standards are already an impossible challenge for me to meet and I can't be bothered to care about yours too.  

Be Imperfect

My school is attempting to reintroduce a "Field Methods in Plant Ecology" course. It's a three-week intensive course that I am taking right now, and we all agree that there is far too much information to cram into just three weeks. I've learned a lot and had a lot of fun, but I've consistently felt like I couldn't keep up. It's an important class for anyone who wants to work in the field with their biology degree, so I suck it up and stick to it.

Last week, we spent Monday through Friday at a state park, running transects, laying quadrats, taking voucher specimens and soil samples, and recording data from 9:00 am to 6:00 pm with highs in the 90s. Because I live 45 minutes away from the field site, I chose to reserve a camp site and pitch a tent with a few of my (now much closer) friends who were also braving the heat for credits.

By day, my sun glasses were sliding down my nose in slicks of sweat. My awesome science nerd hat (with the brim that goes all... the way... around) was saving me from squinting and sun burn, but contributing to a pretty gross hair style by collecting sweat at the band. I waded in the river in my field clothes, which provided a chance to relax and a short period of relief via evaporative cooling. I accidentally came in contact with poison ivy while in the woods and had to use river mud for friction to hopefully wash away the oils and prevent urushiol-induced contact dermatitis (read: river mud exfoliating facials). After that, I started covering myself even more to prevent further exposure.

I got a bit of sun burn on my nose because I forgot to reapply sun screen. My forehead broke out where my hat pressed against it all day. On the last day, I chose which shirt to wear based on strength of stench.

By night, I filled out my field notebook by the light of a camp lantern, took hobo showers, and slept in a backpacking tent.

Come the end of the week, I felt pretty gross. But I learned something.

Obviously, I learned some awesome methods for sampling vegetation for study. I also learned that you really should do this stuff at the crack of dawn and then disappear into the air conditioning somewhere once the sun starts to beat down on your science-nerd hat. But I also learned something unexpected: being gross is important to me.

When I came home, I swore I was smelly. I hadn't shaved in a week. My hair had been rinsed but not washed for four days. Still, Papa thought I was amazing and insists I never smell bad, "Seriously. You're like magic." Coming home to him, seeing that he didn't mind the sweaty mess I had become, was reassuring, but more importantly, I had given myself permission to be that sweaty mess and it was okay.

You can't be perfectly preened all the time... or, if you can, you're not being nearly adventurous enough. So, if that's not an option, you're going to have to come to terms with giving zero shits what other people think about you.

This is not my first "fewer if any showers" adventure. I've been gross for good reasons many times before. In fact, I've taken two other classes of this type. I guess I like to earn credits for sweating. I'm familiar with this form of (what I would call) therapy. I just never thought of it as therapeutic before this. Maybe we all need river mud facials once in a while.    

Can I Still Do This?

My birthday was yesterday, and a birthday seems like a good time to really consider what you're doing with your life. I'm two years into school. I've got 52 credits and a GPA of 3.47, but I'm looking at having to slow down because Cub is demanding a lot of my attention and classes are getting harder. The classes are getting objectively more difficult, but doing almost anything has gotten more difficult for me. Writing blogs, for instance, has become almost impossible. 

I decided to dial back the intensity of my college grind because I felt like I was making unacceptable sacrifices. Although our homeschool has always been very free-range, which makes for a lot of useful flexibility, last semester still stretched my time thin. My Women in World History class demanded a lot of attention and Botany required substantial time spent studying, which made me feel like I wasn't able to encourage the kids to learn as much as I normally would. 

To put it simply: I got a B in my botany class, and I would give myself a C in homeschooling last semester. I made sacrifices in both areas just so we could all get through the term. We all passed. We all learned. Despite my copious pile of distractions, the kids still all worked on reading, math, art, social skills, biology, and computer skills. Still, I know we would have made more progress if I had more time to spare. 

I know we could have done better because, now that I'm home for the summer, we are doing better. Cub finally decided he wanted to learn his ABCs (so he can learn to read, so he can play Munchkin), so I taught him. The twins have been working on irregular spelling words, parts of speech, place value and multi-digit math. M has been focused on consonant blends and improving her reading skills. 

I still think homeschooling is the only right answer for us right now. C still has potty problems, which I don't feel like any doctor has given us a good explanation for. S still has a little bit of a tongue thrust speech irregularity. But the biggest factor is that we can't afford the types of schools we would consider sending them to regardless of those issues, and even if we could, we'd have to move. 

I don't always love homeschooling. My kids don't always love it either. One of my friends (also a mom and one of my professors) pointed out that, "Kids act completely different to other adults than their parents." I think that is my biggest struggle. Additionally, they all want to take separate classes because they have a really hard time focusing when they're around their siblings. It's the dinner-table dilemma. Four siblings around the dinner table can not be talked into quieting down and eating. Four siblings working on homeschool work seem to take four times longer to finish one task.

What we are doing is difficult, but because I still feel like it is the best option, I will cut back my hours at school and try a little harder at home.

Costa Rica: It Begins

I started writing a blog entry the day I arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica. Here are some excerpts:

When I got here, I felt intensely out of place because I don't really speak Spanish. Thankfully, everyone I've had to communicate with has known enough English to help me hobble through the conversation. Clearly, they deal with people like me all the time. 

...

Several minutes later, he (the guy who called my taxi and said it would arrive in 5 minutes) said this, "Five minutes is twenty minutes in tico time." So, welcome to Costa Rica.

...

There's nothing like being in a Central American country in the back of a crappy van, careening down loud streets in a neighborhood where all the houses are surrounded by bars and many barred fences are topped with razor wire. I'm so glad I didn't have to drive. I never want to hear another United States citizen complain about drivers from other states. If you haven't driven in Central America... you don't know!

I wasn't the first to arrive. Several of my classmates flew in early so they could enjoy a bit of a vacation before class officially started. When I met them, I worried I wouldn't fit in. Not only had they bonded before my arrival, but they were still in vacation mode and I was ready for class. In retrospect, I was feeling a little stuffy (and it wasn't congestion).

Over the course of the 10 day class trip, I worked my tail off. Some days I had scheduled activities before breakfast and/or after dinner. I often felt like there wasn't enough down time to get any useful work done on my field notebook (which is required for the class), and I know I'm not the only student who felt that way. I was winded, I was sore, I got noodly arms on an 8 or 9 mile kayaking trip (having never kayaked before in my life), I was sweaty, I was tired, I was itchy, I was sun-burned. And I had the best time of my life so far.

I saw an incredible array of animals and plants in this biodiversity hot spot, and I learned more than I think I have ever learned in a class. There's a tree in Costa Rican forests called a suicide tree because it produces seeds only once, then dies. Sloths only really come down from their high perches to poop. They dig a hole with their nubby tails, poop in it, and make their way back to the canopy. Darker roast coffee is roasted for longer and loses more of its caffeine. Sugar cane is full of potassium. You can tell an insectivorous bat from a frugivorous bat by the shape of the uropatagium (tail membrane). All of that academic excitement aside, let me share with you the most important thing I learned while in Costa Rica:

I learned to slow down. Don't take things so seriously. Everyone I met while there was patient with me while I was struggling to communicate or understand. And, with the exception of chasing the "bonk" of an out-of-season bellbird, none of the natives were in any particular hurry and they never made me feel rushed. I think "Tico time" isn't a derogatory term for chronic lateness in natives, it's a label for the comparatively more leisurely and enjoyable way that Costa Ricans live their lives, without strict time pressures.

I also never felt judged. When you walk into a new class on campus, you feel the heat of dozens of eyes examining you... sizing you up and deciding where you belong. I never felt that from a Costa Rican native.

There were hammocks and chickens and care-free dogs everywhere and people seemed to love what they were doing. That is how life should be.

I Failed

Remember that math test I was pretty sure I failed? I did, in fact, fail. What's weird is, I felt better, not worse, when I saw my grade. In fact, I felt a lot better. I felt relieved. I don't exactly know why, but I think it's something like this:

• I hadn't failed a test in my adult life previous to this, so now I've set a record... and a bar. It's okay to make mistakes. It's okay to fail. It happens sometimes. I know I've been pretty busy and had a lot of crazy stuff going on in my life lately, so I don't take this one too personally. And, so far, I've only failed this test, which came at a bad time for me and included a lot of difficult stuff and, it turns out, everyone else did surprisingly poorly as well. Which brings me to the next point.

• It was an anomaly. I got A's on my other two tests in that class. I've gotten perfect or near perfect grades on the homework. It wasn't a surprise, because I went into the test knowing that I wasn't really prepared. Still, it was an exception, not part of a trend.

• No one was upset with me. Some people expressed some sympathy (or empathy, since anyone who has ever tried to get a college degree has probably failed a test), but no one was disappointed. That includes my professor. She recognized that this was unusual for me and the rest of the class and is offering us an opportunity to get some extra credit by reworking the problems we missed and turning the test back in on the day of the final.

I will still probably get a B. Like I said, I did really well on the previous two test and all of the homework and I'm not too worried about the final. I just need to study this weekend.

I failed a test and it was okay. It means I'm trying something new and difficult.

So, here's what I learned about parenting, and this is an important topic that a lot of people seem to be talking about lately: It's important to teach your kids that failing is... not only okay, but essential. If you are pushing yourself, trying something new, expanding your boundaries, you are going to fail sometimes. It's important to see that failure for what it is and learn from it. You don't have to feel bad about it. Feeling bad about it is a waste of your time and emotional energy. Besides, there's really nothing to feel bad about since everyone fails sometimes.

I think I expected disappointment. I expected to be disappointed in myself, but I also expected everyone I told to be disappointed. I don't want to disappoint people I care about, so I had an uncomfortable lump of fear. When no one reacted the way I expected, I thought, "Well, of course. I'm not in compulsory school anymore. My failure or success is entirely my own and no one has the power or reason to berated me for my shortfall anymore."

But why does anyone berate anyone for their shortfalls? Why do we breed fear of failure in our kids? They get pressure from every different direction. Their siblings judge them for being less capable in some way or another. Their teachers pressure them by giving them definitive grades and expecting them to learn at the set pace of the classroom (this reminds me of a blog about the pressure of grades I wrote over a year ago). Their peers label them for struggling with a concept. They don't need more pressure to perform... it just becomes more fuel for fear of failure.

I want my kids to fail, because I want them to be trying. I want them to be changing and growing and pushing the limits. I want your kids to do the same. The kids who don't fear failure will be the future innovators who stand on the edge and say, "we can make this jump". Maybe they fall, but they can get back up, armed with new information and try something else. They will be the leaders who change everything because they're not afraid to try.

Ask your kids what they failed at today... and be proud of them. Talk about what they learned and be glad that they tried. Make it a friendly, comfortable topic. Destroy the fear.

It's Okay to Cry

(I wrote this on Wednesday)

I'm pretty sure I failed a math test today. I could give you a lot of reasons why. I feel like I need the reasons because I did so well on all of the previous math tests this semester. I don't think the content was more difficult. I think I'm just wearing myself out.

I'm not getting quality sleep lately. My nose gets stuffy when I lie down... but only in the winter I guess. So I'm tossing and turning and waking up and stress dreaming. Plus, I started (or tried to start) this gym routine that has me getting up at 5:30 on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Needless to say, it has been very sporadic. It seems like my gym buddy or I have some reason we can't at least once a week. Still, we try.

My math teacher put together a review for us and we worked through some of it in class, together, on Monday... but I was too tired to understand what she was explaining. In fact, when I was driving to campus that morning, I had repeated feelings of being in a dream instead of actually driving. Apparently, that's called depersonalization and is a form of anxiety attack. Sleep loss increases anxiety, my good friends. Fun times.

So, I studied. I put it all on myself. "I must have just forgotten the stuff we went over several weeks ago." It was logarithms and completing the square. It's not simple stuff, and it had been a while since we talked about it. Review would surely help.

Last night, while the girls were with Daddy, I sat with Papa and reviewed the stuff I couldn't remember. But what he was explaining to me often didn't make sense and I'd have to ask him to start over. This stuff I learned several weeks ago was not coming back to me. It was like I was learning it for the first time... again. I cried a bit and got a little angry... as I am known to do when I come up against a wall I don't know how to climb.

We didn't have nearly enough time to go over everything I was struggling with, but we worked on every problem in the review, one by one, until I understood how and why we did each step... until we had to give up and go to bed.

Then, this morning, I skipped the gym so I could hopefully sleep a little more... but I had tossed and turned all night and spent hours lying awake, panicking about all of the school-related obligations creeping up on me. So, I left the house a little earlier than usual, planning to get to class earlier so I could jog my memory by studying the problems we had done last night.

When I opened my notebook and looked at the study guide... none of it made sense... again.

Then came the test. There were whole problems I couldn't even begin to work. There were problems for which I could find a solution using my calculator, but couldn't show my work because I didn't know the first thing about how to manually solve them. I wrote a note to my teacher on the scratch paper she provided. I explained how embarrassed I was by this test and that I studied but I couldn't understand or retain a lot of it for some reason.

After the test, I cried. I called Papa. I vented about how difficult it is to study, how tired I am, that I'm doubting my motivation and resolve to even get this degree. Why am I doing this?! Why am I making myself so miserable and stretching myself so thin? I want to show my kids that college and a career are viable options... I don't want to teach them that torture is how you get there.

Papa says I don't have to go full-time. I don't have to graduate in as few semesters as possible. But I don't want this crap to be a part of my life for any longer than it absolutely has to be. It was just one test, but it broke me.

Having calmed down, I know I am more than a sum of my failures. It's okay to fail sometimes. I've obviously over-extended myself. I was tired, and I have been for weeks. I am over-burdened and have been for a while now. I'm okay. I just need a break. Good thing Thanksgiving vacation is coming.

Pura Vida: No Worries

Photo: http://www.visitcostarica.com/

Every new thing I do is the new most amazing thing I've ever done. In January, I'm going to Costa Rica! I found out on the the 3rd (a week ago as I'm writing this) that I my application was accepted for a class that involved a biology research trip to Costa Rica. I didn't have time to be excited until now (and I barely have time, now).

I got an acceptance email on Thursday. I had a weekend backpacking trip to prepare for because I was leaving Friday. Then, I was gone until Sunday afternoon. The backpacking trip was part of a class, so I was busy learning and working my butt off all weekend, but it was one of the best weekends I've had in a long time.

When I came home from the trip, I had some "being a good friend" to do. Someone I care a lot about was in need of love and support. I love to love the people I care about. Don't get me wrong, it's sad when they really need it because I hate to see them hurting. Still, it makes me feel good when one of my friends come to me when they need something.

Anyway, Monday, I had no classes because it was Labor Day, so we took the kids to the zoo. Yes, the zoo, after I had just hiked more than a dozen miles with a 35lb backpack. I said I would, so I did... after I dosed myself with ibuprofen.

Tuesday, I went back to the zoo for an adult volunteer meeting. Then, I took a class designed to teach me the basics of front gate work, so I can volunteer to be that awesome, bubbly person who greets you and takes your tickets. I had planned to go grocery shopping after that, but the class ran long and I didn't have time. So, I was home for a little while before I went back to campus to take the test for my Outdoor Ethics class.

Wednesday, I had classes from 8am to 4:45pm and an online math quiz to take when I got home.

So, today....

Today, I'm finally trying to take a moment to let this sink in.

Reasons this is amazing:

1. I've never been out of the country before. 
2. Dr. Carello is my hero, and she's one of the professors who runs this trip. 
3. This will look great when I'm looking for a job after I graduate.
4. It sounds like it's going to be incredibly fun, not just academic.
5. 110 species of bats are known to live in Costa Rica, including fruit bats and vampire bats.
6. 52 species of hummingbirds.
7. There are over 300 different endangered species in Costa Rica. 
8. Seven active volcanoes.
9. Supposedly, older natives are pretty short so furniture is about 6 inches shorter there... I'm gonna fit right in. 

I'M 

SO

EXCITED!

Nature Nerding

How do you relax, recharge, and reconnect? It's Labor Day. It seems like this is the weekend when just about everyone tries to do those things. For most holidays, we invite family into our homes for celebrations, or go to their homes instead. We decorate and plan and cook and it can be crazy stressful. Labor Day is just different for most people.

We often spend Labor Day outside: at a park, in an open space... probably near some water. A few years ago, before Cub was born, we spend Labor Day teaching the girls about directions and compass use in a big park. Last year, I took the kids to an open space near our neighborhood, we packed a lunch, ate under a huge tree, and played in a creek. This year, I went backpacking with a group of other college students.

I'm taking a class called Outdoor Ethics and Leadership. We learned a little about map and compass use, and a lot about leave no trace camping. The class consisted of three girls and three boys with a professor and a student aid. It was amazing.

Probably the most important skill I got to practice and reinforce within myself was patience.

I don't think I could have asked for a better group of peers, but there was one member of our team who was a little less helpful and sometimes even a bit frustrated (and frustrating). The rest of us proved (for ourselves and each other) over an over again that a certain level of maturity and patience was the best way to deal with a bad attitude. After all, we were all there to help each other.

From little things like being physically incapable of getting your water bottle back into its pocket because it's behind you to bigger things like wounding yourself on the trail, we all need help. We help each other pitch tents, set up tarps, cook food, find a place to potty in the dark, get our packs back on, filter our water, wash our hands (someone has to hold the bar of soap for you when you're getting water from a canvas bag hanging from a tree), and understand the ethics of leave no trace camping. We put up with each other's snoring, tossing and turning in the night, lagging behind on the trail, and speeding ahead.

We didn't really know each other before this weekend, but I feel like I know these people better now than I do some of my friends. I actually think I know myself better now. And, as a parent, and a friend, I can see that I have changed, at least temporarily.

3.85, 5, 2, and 2015 (catching up)

My littlest little is faithfully using his potty (as long as he's not inhibited by clothes). My two oldest have started earning money by doing chores. My middle child is learning to read. Tonight, the littlest cub, my two-year-old, is super excited about the water in the toilet tank. He's grabbing our fingers and dragging us each, in turn, to the bathroom to show us. At the same time, the rest of the children in the house are excitedly playing with key chain animals that squeal in various ways. I got those things as stocking stuffers. I knew better, but didn't listen to my internal monologue. It's been a busy life, lately.

A semester came and went. My grades were pretty good. Sure, I got a B in lab, but I wasn't exactly impressed with my professor. To be fair, he had never taught Gen Bio at all, and it was his first go at this Gen Bio lab business. I really think he'll fair much better next semester, and the school has given him a chance to teach the class as well as the lab this time.

It wasn't easy, and I don't want to make it seem like it was. I skipped out on this blog mostly because I was so stressed out about my grades and having a lot of trouble finding time and privacy to do my homework. I figure if don't feel like you're under pressure, you're probably not learning anything new or challenging. 

M's birthday happened. It kills me that she's five. She still hasn't learned to read. I taught her sisters at four, but M is considerably less interested. I guess she's got better things to do. She's also a lot more free-spirited and flighty than I remember her sisters being. I definitely don't want to kill her happiness, but I grit my teeth when she smiles at me while I'm trying to talk to her about her tantrums.

Anyhow, I'm teaching her to read this year. She's making great improvements in the way of remembering her letter-recognition and learning phonics already. We're also seeing some considerable strides in her writing. All of this centers around her rapidly improving attitude, which I'm thrilled to see. 

Of course, there was Halloween. And, of course, we had an Elsa, though no adult I know can comprehend why children all seem to prefer Elsa. We also had a Yoda, a Bat Girl and a Victorian Princess. I loved M's costume so much. E said, "coo coo" at every house, to much adoration. At the time, it was his way of saying, "thank you". He has since upgraded to something like, "Tek oo". 

Thanksgiving happened in a strange sort of way. We all took turns getting sick, which resulted in very last minute cancellation of our traditional road trip to St. Louis. (To those of you we missed seeing on that holiday, you dodged a bullet. Please remember we had you and your children's best interests in mind when we cancelled.) So, instead, we had our first Thanksgiving at home with my mom, sister and niece. It was actually quite nice. However, the kids and I haven't seen some of my in-laws since summer vacation, which is unfortunate.

Christmas came and went. There was a fake tree, because of time and budget restrictions, but there were something like five different kinds of homemade cookies, several flavors of glass candy (from my sister) and two different fruit pies I made from scratch. And that fake tree was adorably dwarfed by the pile of presents for the five children who woke up here Christmas morning.

Cub turned two (which is also freaking me out) but we haven't had his party yet. We were hoping to improve his birthday experience by 1.) distinguishing it from Christmas with at least one whole week of buffer and 2.) financially recovering from Christmas before trying to throw him a party. I want him to have a real party with a theme and all like everyone else gets, and his birthday falling on the 26th makes that awfully difficult. 

He suddenly wants us to read him every book from the bookshelf, several times a day. He sleeps in a toddler bed, faces forward in his carseat, and mostly takes showers with us instead of baths. Cub loves all things that go: firetrucks, dump trucks, backhoes, helicopters, rockets, robots, airplanes, and trains. His current favorite things to talk about (and request youtube videos of) are rockets and astronauts. He even says "Atronot". He got a rocket for Christmas (A note to Tutu, who got it for him: he sleeps with the detachable lander portion) and has a small toy Ernie doll he like to put in the rocket. Now, he's pretty sure that Ernie is an astronaut and asks me if the NASA astronauts in the youtube videos are Ernie. 

New Years was lovely. We finally got to see a good friend we hadn't seen in six months. He wound up staying the night because, upon his opening the front door to leave at 2am, we were greeted with the disharmony of police sirens from who knows where and realized... driving home might not have been the best idea. 

We had our traditional milk in champagne glasses, cracked holiday crackers, wore paper crowns, popped poppers and let the twins try to stay up until the new year. They made it to 11:45. To pass the time, we played a bit of D&D, because that's how we roll. 

I finished up the 2014 memory jar, but we haven't reviewed it just yet. I think I don't want to let it go. 

**I really wanted to add about 20 more photos to this, but it was getting ridiculous.**

Deaf Superheroes

I know, I'm doing a completely terrible job keeping up with the blog lately. You probably wouldn't want to imagine some of the factors that have contributed to that. Mostly it all just means I'm supremely busy.  I've been writing a lot for my comp class as well as writing every few weeks for ASL. I have so much reading to do as well. I just don't want to type up a blog as often as I used to.
So, I'm going to share one of the essays I wrote for my ASL class, because I thought it was particularly interesting. 

Deaf Superheroes

I originally thought I was going to write this report about deaf comedians, but when I started doing research on deaf entertainment, I found out that Marvel (one of the two major comic publishers in the US) is running a story arch in which Hawkeye is deaf and must communicate using ASL. Everywhere I looked, “deaf entertainment” searches were filled with Hawkeye.

Marvel is the origin of Guardians of the Galaxy, which was a summer blockbuster. They also created Spiderman, Iron Man, Captain America, and the X Men. In 1999, Marvel also created a Native American, female superhero called Echo (later known as Ronin, when she joins the Avengers) who is deaf.

Her story is interesting. It begins with tragedy: when she is still young, her father is killed and the man responsible for his death raises her. She grows up never knowing the truth. She is sent to expensive schools for people with learning disabilities, but when she recreates a piano piece, she sent to a school for prodigies.

Her super power is “photographic reflexes” or the ability to copy the movements of others. Through this, she becomes an incredible pianist, martial artist, acrobat, ballerina, and jet pilot. While her attention to visual detail gives her great advantages, it also has realistic drawbacks. She is helpless in the dark, and does not respond to vocal commands from people she can’t lip-read. That can be particularly frustrating in the superhero world of full-coverage facemasks. Wikipedia says, “When she initially meets the Avengers, Captain America has to repeat all of Iron Mans’ questions for her.”

It must be tough to commit to such a storyline, but I’m glad they are. I may have to see about getting my hands on some of these comics.

It seems like last week’s essays seemed to focus a lot on the negative aspects of being part of a minority culture. Actually, a lot of articles I came across in my search for topic ideas were similarly aligned. A woman sues because she is forcibly reassigned to a different jury when the court finds out she’s deaf, because they don’t want to pay for an interpreter. A deaf man is murdered in Indiana and the local police face setbacks in solving the case because everyone this man associated with is also deaf and interpreters are a limited resource.

It’s nice to see a spot of sunshine amid the storm clouds. It’s such an incredible thing, as a kid, to have a superhero you can relate to. Four Deaf people created Signs and Voices, a British comic book starring four Deaf superheroes. They say, “This project will help our readers relate to and learn about social integration, and raise the aspirations of deaf young people.” I completely agree.

A common theme in superhero comics is a difficult fight against adversity. Iron Man is a billionaire with inoperable shrapnel in his chest. Superman is an alien, trying to fit in with humans by pretending to be Clark Kent. Batman’s parents were the only family he had until they were killed.  I think we could use a few more superhero histories that more people can relate to and be inspired by.

Hawkeye has been temporarily, moderately hearing impaired before. The new arch seems to involve severe to profound hearing loss. I wonder how long it will last?

Thoughts on Grades

I'm taking a sociology class this semester. This is really not my game. Rarely do I come across an article or book that isn't far too scholarly or heavy for me to enjoy. It kills me how these people write. For example:

I would like to suggest to you that the competition for grades, which you have already experienced for 12 years and will experience for at least four more, is a very dehumanizing and damaging system that has its roots deep in the injustices of our society. - Bell, Inge, Bernard McGrane, John Gunderson. This Book is Not Required: An Emotional Survival Manual for Students. Pine Forge Press, 2004. Print

When first I read that, I nearly laughed out loud. I thought, "That seems awfully dramatic. It's just a letter. These people really take this too seriously!" But... do they?

They go on to explain their point of view:

Throughout our school years, society teaches us to believe that grades display our intelligence. Because of this our motivation, learning, and personal growth are placed second to attaining the ultimate goal - the grade. Society first teachs us about societal norms and codes, yet it is in the school system where we are ultimately taught to imitate. We are programmed to imitate what the teacher wants. If we don't, we get a bad grade. This idea of imitation is so strong because it is reinforced through schooling for a minimum of 12 years. Imitation is the main cause for our stifled and structured society. Imitation, competition, and fear of grades hinder our discovery. - Bell, Inge, Bernard McGrane, John Gunderson. This Book is Not Required: An Emotional Survival Manual for Students. Pine Forge Press, 2004. Print

Okay. If grades are one leg of the tripod that is stifling our discovery and our entire society, maybe they aren't taking it too seriously. Still, I wasn't sure I could make the connection between letter grades and ruining society. Can you?

Do you remember getting gold stars for little achievements? I gave my kids skittles for using the potty. When I was in 3rd grade, we had a sticker chart that showed who had mastered their multiplication tables. As a little kid, letter grades don't really make any sense to you, but your authority figures want to reward you for doing the correct thing in hopes that it will motivate you to continue in that direction.

When you're a little older, the letters start to make their way into your life. You strive for an A in your math class (or maybe you just struggle to get a letter good enough to pass) instead of setting a goal to understand each new mathematical rule before moving on to the next. In this way, letter grades might be motivating kids to cheat, but more commonly letter grades are encouraging students to just get by.

Some students will turn school into a competition to have the most stars or the best grades. That's how we get valedictorians. Some students will find a tutor to help them get their grade just high enough to stay on the football team. Some students will still fall in love with learning, because you can't stop them.

Those who do will still try to build a solid foundation by understanding each new bit of information before stacking something else on top of it. They will study and try to comprehend instead of just memorizing, because they want to really know this stuff and not just be able to regurgitate it for the test. But we aren't inspiring these kids with letter grades and we aren't inspiring other kids to become like this.

We might be losing our critical thinkers, our scientists and mathematicians. We're not investing in bringing out the best in future adults but in getting the correct, immediate response out of children and teenagers. And you may ask, "Then, how are we supposed to provide incentive for our kids?" But I think the real question is, "What should we provide incentive for?"

Encourage your kids to learn, not to be right. Just be excited about teaching and learning. Instead of labeling your child with a letter or percentage score thus comparing them to their peers, be patient with them when they struggle and be excited for them when, suddenly, the light bulb blinks on. Enjoy those moments, because they are beautiful. Struggling is a part of learning. Everyone struggles with something. Help each other instead of flaunting one child's success over another's difficulties.

That's what I think.