life, apparently

TheKid has always been a terrible, horrible sleeper. Like me, he takes a long time to unwind before dreamland arrives. I usually watch a little TV, something mindless. He plays, reads books to the baby dolls, talks to the train, cries until we come back, or some combination thereof. Most nights it takes about 60 minutes for him to fall asleep, sometimes closer to 90. Yesterday, he came up with a new strategy to prepare for bed -- he threw every * single * item in his entire room except the chair, desk, bed, and laundry over the gate. We ignored him - we certainly didn't want him to think this was an effective attention-getting strategy. (The gate apparently fell down at the end.) He cleaned it up (well, ok we cleaned up 80% and he picked up 20%) in the morning. Fun times.

Elmo is apparently being potty trained along with TheKid.

If we are not having a birthday party, why are 6 people driving 2 hours to come to my house right now?

Suppose you bought a train for your son's birthday. Would you:

A.) Make your son an expert in using the phrase "what the hell!" as you spend an hour fighting with the form fitting plastic holding (onto for dear life) all the little parts.

B.) Spend about 3 hours trying to put all the little parts together, have a mini-mental breakdown because parts will NOT fit together.

C.) Then rememer there was some sort of paper that came with train. Retrieve paper. See that paper in fact has instructions AND a list of all the little parts. After reading said paper, realize that one little part is missing (& has been replaced with similar little part but with opposite ends). Realize it is not possible to put together all the little parts with one missing and send husband back to store to get replacement train.

D.) A then B then C

E.) A then C but not B

Happy Blog-o-birthday to me! This is my 100th post. I hear that a blogger "finds her voice" in the first 100 posts and the quality thereafter tends to be better. Don't bet on it dear readers!

So what do I have to say for myself in this 100th post -- I just scheduled my first job talk at Univ of Hearing. I'm excited. Not so much because this is a dream job, though it does have a pretty solid group of faculty. I'm more excited because I've been paranoid since, hmmm about March, that I would be a jobless drunk at home with The Kid next year. Don't get me wrong, this job talk does not mean that I will not be jobless drunk SAHM* but it does give me hope. And it is always so nice to talk to these people on the phone because they are sort of obligated to tell you that you are great and who doesn't love that? Person from from VeryGoodButReligousSchool called me a superstar.

*I have the utmost respect for SAHMs because I'm pretty sure I'd pull out all of my hair in the first week. I can do a max of 4 consecutive days at home before I'm ready to throw myself in front of a train.

When I got back from my very fabulous talk I had the following email waiting:

Dear apparently,

PersonInYourArea and I (and others) are very happy that you are

interested in this position. The search committee meets soon and

should have some information to convey regarding your

status in the search around {exact date}.

Chair

UnivIPredicted

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours later when I got home I had this email waiting:

Dear apparently,

We've reviewed your application and I'd like to call and ask a

few questions. When are you available?

Chair

VeryGoodButReligiousSchool

and so it begins, job search3.0

I just gave a great talk to a great audience and there is nothing better!*

I was composed and clear, animated, and a touch funny. The audience asked all the right questions at all the right times and a few hard questions. I love hard questions - not mean questions but hard questions - I like being forced to think during a talk rather than just perform.

The first talk I ever gave was a utter failure. Actually, the talk itself was ok, maybe even approaching good. But before the official talk I scheduled a practice talk during lab meeting. I made nice slides and have everything in perfect order. When I stood up to give my practice talk, I completely fell apart. I tried to talk but I couldn’t. I literally froze. Then I laughed and tried to talk again but I just kept saying “uh, ... so, ... uh, ...so”

BestAdvisorEver stopped me and said we’d work on it later. Then that weekend (it was a Sunday evening and I remember thinking how generous BAE was to spend all Sunday evening working with me on this) we met and he told me a story about a very famous academic guy who gives wonderful talks.** The little secret is that VFAG is performing. He writes down every word that he intends to say, repeatedly edits it until it is just right, and then memorizes it word for word. Of course, VFAG realizes that giving a talk is a performance, the content of what you say is often just as important as how you say it (even academic talks). The key is that it doesn’t sound as if his talk is memorized (at all).

BAE suggested I flip through each slide and write down exactly what I would say for each slide. He then edited my typed out words. I then translated his editing into words I’d be comfortable saying. And I memorized.

I used this technique for many years and I still use it when I feel anxious about an upcoming talk. I used it for my job talk last year.

Somehow I’ve gained a bucket full of calmness and confidence in the past few years. I’ve finally reached that stage where I believe that I know more about the topic I’m presenting than anyone in the audience does. Recently I’ve been giving good talks (of course, I’m talking about MyVeryFavoriteManuscript so that helps) and I’m just so pleased with myself. Speaking is definitely one of those areas where I can sit back and appreciate just how far I’ve come. Today was a good day.

*well, ok I can think of a few things but they either involve food or sex

**was this a true story - I don’t know but I do know that he named an actual person. VFAG is chair of a dept to which I am applying - maybe I’ll get the chance to ask him.

Funny story for those of you who’ve come this far - about a month ago we bought temporary tattoos for TheKid. I put a ring of spiders around my ankle. Then this morning, I put on capri-like pants and saw my tattoo. I could not remove it - I tried putting on lotion, oil, vasoline, and nothing worked. I did manage to run off parts but that only make it worse. So, I gave a great talk with a half-removed spider tattoo clearly visible on my ankle.

you were upstairs sick in bed and heard your mother-in-law say to your not-yet-2-yr-old-kid "if you touch that* again I'm going to smack your hands" when you have a clear and FIRM belief in using NO physical punishment?

a.) go downstairs, grab (rescue?) kid and tell off MIL
b.) yell, "I don't think so lady!"
c.) realize that if you move an inch, you will vomit all over the place and then the whole situation will go haywire. so just wait in bed until you realize the kid has moved on to bigger and better games and is no longer being threatened and then vow to never let MIL babysit again. Then spend 2 hours asking your husband how he plans to deal with this situation. My parents are VERY clear on this situation (though they obviously believe in physical punishment given my childhood) so I figure this is for him to address.

The correct answer is C (though if I were not sick, I'm sure it would have been A)

I'm not sure what to do now. I like MIL, I really do. But seriously, WTF lady? I'm pretty sure we've discussed this in the past. I'm 99% sure because I remember a story she told me about smacking her kid in front of her mother who then smacked her back and said "don't you ever hit my grandson again" So what is she thinking? Especially threatening to smack him over something so ridiculous. Believe me The Kid has done much worse than try to play with a rock.

I'm not an indirect person or shall we say I'm not very good at sugar-coating requests or opinions - if I resolve this situation, it will go something like this:
"MIL, I understand that you have opinions on how to discipline kids and that is fine. You are welcome to have your own opinion. But here is my opinion and it is the only one that matters because he is my kid. Do not ever hit, threaten to hit, or so much as place a hand on my kid with an unpleasant thought in your mind, you will never and I mean never see him again - got it? Let me say it once more because I'm not fucking around here - you will never hit, smack, or even tap my kid or threaten to do so, are we clear?" And I'm very good at remaining perfectly calm in these situations which seems to scare people. I guess if you freak out or cry or something then people attribute your behavior to being crazy or angry or hysterical but if you are calm people really understand that you mean it and it can be a little intimidating (or something, I don't know because I don't scare myself).

For the moment I'm not dealing with it but something must be said. Gotta love the relatives.

*He was touching an unlit candle surrounded by rocks, he likes the rocks a lot. Why? Because he was probably bored out of his skull. MIL just wanted him to watch TV and wouldn't take him outside to play with balls and run around - his all time favorite activity. Why MIL didn't just move the tempting candle is beyond me - she must have told him no a thousand times that day.

When I was young, my family was poor. Welfare, reduced lunch tickets, government approved babysitter (because the govt paid part of the bill), poor. We lived in a modest neighborhood, so it wasn't actually all that uncommon. There were certainly people who had less than we did. And people who had more. I didn't think too much of it. I do remember a pair of fushia high tops that some other kids made fun of. (Actually, I remember one particular kid - a tall red head named Keith* - making fun of them.) Yes there were left over from last year and yes they were buy one get one free from Payless and yes they were the only pair I had. But I liked them so I didn't really care what Keith thought. I've always been thick-skinned in that way. I do what I do because I want to. If you don't like it, that is your problem. In fact, I just might like it more because you don't. Keith had kangaroos on his shoes after all, clearly he had bad taste.

The only time I hated being poor (really, the only time I thought much about it at all) was at a birthday party. All the other kids seemed to buy bigger and better gifts. And this does not go unnoticed at a birthday party when everyone is gathered around oohing and ahhing at the fantastic gift from Bobby. Then oohing and ahhing at the great gift from Susy. So, I don't like birthday parties. I just don't. It brings back bad feelings. I wonder if anyone feels like I felt. These days I suppose it is more likely that someone is maxing out a credit card to buy that super terrific gift rather than being honest about what they can or cannot afford and I wonder about that too.

(related sidebar) I hate the idea of having stuff just to have stuff. I'm not saying that I don't have fun things, I certainly do. But I don't want my kid growing up with each and every must-have toy because it is a must-have toy. I want him to appreciate what he has and appreciate that he has more than others. No matter how little you have, there are always others who have less. No matter how much you have, there are always others who have more.

Why am I telling you this? The Kid's birthday is quickly approaching. The Husband knows everything I think and he pretty much agrees (even though he was raised in a must-have-it-all family). So, we don't have birthday parties for The Kid. We were absolutely tormented into having a party last year and so we did. We told people not to bring gifts and we told our parents to tell people we actually meant it. Some brought gifts anyway. Others assumed we wanted money rather than things and grudgingly stuffed money into cards (don't ask I have no idea, I guess the thought of bringing nothing is just too new age for some of my relatives). We knew this might happen (the gifts, not the money) and asked my mom not to have an oohh and awweee session (party was at her house). She did it anyway. So no more parties. When he gets older and asks to have friends over, we'll oblige I'm sure. But not a cake-eating, see who brings the coolest gift party. We'll have a have fun with your friends because you like to spend time with them party.

My birthday is just a month after The Kid's. Feel free to deposit birthday cash in my paypal account: lifeapparently@justkidding.com

*To be fair, Keith was actually a nice kid and he was my friend. He was a very tall, very redheaded kid so I'm sure he has his own memories of taunting.

I have to submit mid-term grades this week, look at my lovely (if slightly low) distribution.

F 5%

D 11%

C 36%

B 38%

A 10%

I'd like to get rid of the bottom 5% and shift everything else up a bit. Why do I have a feeling my students won't think it is so pretty?

I'm writing a longer/more reflective (that is the goal anyway) post on this but for now you should know that I need a cookie. Unfortunately I am broke and it is pouring rain so I'm just stuck here with nothing sweet to eat. boo hoo.

I had my teaching mentor come to class today to hold an in-class (anonymous) mid-semester evaluation. We generated topics/questions for her to ask last week and the plan was for her to have about 30 mins of class time (without me) to get a sense of the community voice of the class - the strengths and weaknesses of the class - and specific information to improve this class in particular and my teaching approach in general. She'll write up a summary, we will meet and discuss specific strategies to implement, and then to complete the circle I present the problems & solutions to the students.

Ok, I was all gung-ho. I actually asked for this (WHAT? my head is now screaming!). I have nothing to lose. I'm a post-doc so teaching evaulations have zero impact on my life. Tenure is not at stake. Right? Right. I wasn't nervous at all ... until the moment she walked into class. Then I fell apart. She was about 10 mins early and those 10 mins were the worst lecture I've ever given - I didn't even understand myself. And, I kept thinking "oh no, don't mess up NOW -- it will just give them bad things to say" which only added to the problem.

My 10 mins of lecture hell are finally up and I leave ... but she borrows the microphone (that I had to sign my life away for), so I had to wait outside so I could get it back. Fine. The first 20 or so minutes were fine. Then the students started to filter out. It felt like someone told everyone in the room a secret about me but since I didn't know what secret was told, I didn't know if I should cry or laugh or what. It was a very strange feeling. (The class doors open to a student lounge, so many of them were just hanging around waiting for their next class or drinking coffee.)

Now, it is 10 minutes AFTER class ends and she is STILL in there! And, I just can't take it anymore -- what could they possibly be saying? How bad can I be? So, I ask a student from my class to go in and get the microphone and I leave.

It was sort of like the first time I read an action letter -- tension builds and builds until I find out the verdict and then everything is ok again because I know exactly what to address to get the paper published (usually, anyway). The only problem is that I was waiting outside while the letter was being drafted and I don't get to see it for a few more days.

I'm ok now, for the most part, like I said nothing bad can come of this -- but a cookie would make it all better. (hmm, this is long maybe I won't write another post after all)

jobs applied for, 3 more to go. I just can't bring myself to finish the last 3 yet but I will.

I expect (hope? would feel pretty good if? think something in the world is not right if I don't get?) 5 interviews.* The Husband is guessing 7. Just for fun, I'll even tell you the 5 I'd bet on, if the bookies cared about such things:

1.) GradSchoolsFarmTeam (actually, it is this place)
2.) DurableUniv
3.) NearSisterBlueUniv
4.) MapleLeafUniv
5.) SnowstormUniv

*5 is a lot - SuperGeniusFriend got 3.** Actually I 've never known anyone whose had more than 3 except for the legendary tale of GradStudentWhoGraduatedBeforeIWasAnUndergrad who had 10, but as I said that story is often repeated but has never been verified (at least not by me).

**of course SGF only applied to something like 12 schools, I think 40 is some kind of record.

I’m reviewing 2 papers on the very same topic by the same author for 2 different journals. In one, they claim that the effect is due to X and in another they claim it is due to B.

This is annoying.

Let us review my options 1) tell them I’m reviewing both and they should stop this nonsense 2) ignore it, if anyone actually reads the published version (assuming they get published) then the authors will look silly for saying both X and B 3) reject both of them because I am so annoyed and the papers aren’t so great anyway

I already rejected Paper X but I suspect it will get a chance at revision. Paper B I’m still reading but so far, ehhh.

I've already sent out 14 apps for tenure-track faculty positions. I just packaged 13 more today. I am working on another right now and I just found a BIG typo.

----------------------------------------------------------
In addition, I have requested letters of reference from:

BestAdvisorEver (bestadvisorever.thanks)

PostDocAdvisor (postdocadvisor.thanks)

NationalMedalofScienceGuy (someoneelse.thanks)

JustALittleCrazyProf (justalittlecrazyprof.thanks)

----------------------------------------------------------

Hard to notice, isn't it -- I have the email of someone else who I no longer ask for letters (no reason, he just got bumped for people who have more face time with me these days) in place of NationalMedalofScienceGuy. Now, this is probably ok, NMSG already sent off all of his letters but still, come on apparently what is wrong with you -- 27 letters and you didn't notice!

So, what am I going to do now? Open those 13 letters I prepared but haven't sent off yet and fix them all. more fun times, at least I'm not in the bathroom.

I did this again. To review: 3 times in 6 weeks I've displayed my password on a gigantic screen to 100 students. My newest password involves "WTF" to remind myself that I am an idiot. Bets on how long it will be until #4?

I drove around for 20 mins today and couldn't find a parking space - even a 2 hour space (which means I'd have to move in 2 hours, but 2 hours > 0 hours in case you didn't already know) so I just drove home.

I arrived home while TheKid was napping (I knew this would be the case), so I am now hiding out in my bedroom working. If he discovers me, he'll never let me work. I happened to be in the bathroom when he woke up from his nap so I was hiding in the bathroom for about 10 mins. Fun times.

Back to exam-making.