I’m going to count this as a parenting win

My older son did a sweet thing today.  Little Boy and I were running around the block this morning (or more accurately, taking a walk break during our run around the block) when I saw a penny on the pavement.

“Look, a penny!” I said.  “Pick it up, it’s good luck.”

Little Boy, currently a few months away from turning four, has a piggy bank made from an old Gatorade tub.  We’ve talked about how money can be saved and used to pay for things that he wants, and he seems to have an age-appropriate grasp of how that works.  I thought he might like the penny and he did pick it up, but a few steps later, he became concerned.

“I don’t want this money.  I can’t put this money in my piggy bank.”

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s not my money.  It’s somebody else’s money.”  And he set the penny down on the sidewalk for the original owner to find.

Can’t really argue with that.

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A pile of new books: late additions

I have two late additions to this year’s “books received for Christmas” pile, courtesy of my mother-in-law, who presented them in person when we saw her last weekend.

Marie Kondo's book "The Life-Changing Magic of Cleaning Up" sitting on top of Caroline Fraser's "Prairie Fires."

Don’t worry, I asked for both of these; the Marie Kondo book is not some kind of passive-aggressive mother-in-law comment on my tidying skills.

A pile of new book(s), 2018 edition

The book Artemis by Andy Weir.

Not really a “pile” this year, just the one book.  (A book that I’m quite excited to read, since I absolutely loved The Martian.)  I received some other excellent Christmas gifts, including LEGO’s Women of NASA set and a beautiful framed photo set from my spouse.  I’m still working on last year’s books, plus an extra bunch sent mid-year by fellow blogger Leah, so I’m not in any danger of running of things to read any time soon.

Five children's books.

Little Boy got a more pile-like quantity of books for Christmas.  The picture above includes only the new stuff; my mother also gathered up a half-dozen books from my childhood and sent them home with us.  (She also found and gave us my old Sesame Street sheets and my brother’s Thomas the Tank Engine towel, all in remarkably good shape.)

What are you looking forward to reading this year?

I’ve been looking forward to this

Little Boy went for a run with me today.  Rather unexpectedly, when he overheard me talking last night about my plans for a morning run, he announced that he wanted to run, too.  So I did my main workout, a slow and awkward two miles, and then told him to put on his shoes and join me.

I’ve been looking forward to this, to him being big enough to join in activities that I love.  He may or may not stay interested in running for the long term, but for now he’s three and spending time with Mama is one of his very favorite things.

We ran up one side of the street and down the other, pausing to look at Christmas decorations and the neighborhood peacock.  He ran right next to me or slightly ahead—he likes to be the one in front—while I kept pace comfortably.  It was a beautiful day and it was fun.

Introducing Younger Brother

Kid #2, who shall henceforth go by the pseudonym of Younger Brother, has arrived!  Eleven days early and nearly nine pounds.  He is healthy and adorable and relatively calm for a newborn.

Close-up image of a newborn baby's foot.

I like a good birth story, so I’ll write up the details of my labor for a later post.  I never went into labor with my older son (who was breech and born via C-section), so this birth was an entirely new and different experience.  Recovery has been much easier.

(Side note: You might have noticed that I’ve changed some blog things recently—like the name—to reflect my graduation and changing life.  Those updates aren’t completely finished, so please pardon the mess!)

A fun office trip with Little Boy

Little Boy’s daycare is closed for a few days of teacher training, so I brought him with me to campus this morning.  My office is in a mostly-empty outbuilding, so there weren’t any major concerns about disrupting others.  (Not that there are many other people on campus at 9 AM in early August anyway.)  The plan was to try to keep him entertained with the novelty of it all while I sorted some papers and packed a few things.

It went delightfully well.  When you are almost three years old, there are many new and exciting—and sometimes scary—things to experience at a university.  Parking garages!  Elevators!  Public bathrooms with loud toilets!  And of course, Mommy’s office, with swivel chairs and a dry-erase board and stuffed animals and a vuvuzela (yes, really).  Plus a scientific calculator (he assumed this was a phone at first) and a computer with a mouse that he could click and scroll and use to make new desktop folders!

I had several dozen old pens that had accumulated over the years, and set Little Boy to checking them.  “If it works, give it back to Mommy; if it doesn’t work, put it in the trash can.”  He was quite effective at this task.

The best part of the morning was when my friend, who is also graduating and packing up her office across the hall, arrived.  Little Boy was ridiculously excited to see her, despite only knowing her by name before today.  He spent a good 20 minutes jumping up and down and running back and forth with sheer happiness.  Preschooler enthusiasm is amazing.

When I was Little Boy’s age, my dad was a PhD student.  I’m going to have to ask him if he has any stories about my visits to his office and lab.

Dr. Crazy Mama

My dissertation defense was on Tuesday … and … I passed!

(It’s taken me a few days to sit down and blog about it, because my parents are visiting and Family Time is fun but exhausting.)

It was not surprising to pass—it’s extremely unusual in any PhD program for someone to fail after being allowed to defend—but I am so very happy and relieved to feel like I deserved it.  That was my greatest fear over the last year: that I would be passed out of kindness or pity or just to get me out of there.  I am comfortable that that’s not what happened.

Defenses in my department are a short (30-minute) public talk, followed by an hour or two of private questioning by the committee.  My extreme social anxiety doesn’t transfer into prepared public speaking situations; as long as I’ve practiced (which I definitely did here), it only takes a few sentences for me to get comfortable.  So that part went quite well.

The questions from my committee were generally relevant and reasonable.  It was all big-picture knowledge stuff, plus some questions about possible follow-up work.  No one asked me to justify any of my methodology or even any of my conclusions.  I had to write on the board a few times, but didn’t need to pull up any plots or refer to anything specific in my written dissertation.

My answers were awkward and clunky at times.  Someone once told me that the point of a PhD defense is to find out the limits of your knowledge (and decide if it’s enough)—and so to expect people to keep asking questions until they ran into those limits.  I think not all of the clunky answers were my fault, though.  Some of my committee members were just not very good at articulating what they were looking for, and it took a few rounds of clarification to get there.

There was only one point when I felt really nervous, and that was when they sent me out of the room after an hour of questions, to decide if they were done or if they needed to ask me more.  I began the wait feeling confident, but after about five minutes started to worry that it was taking too long, even though rationally I knew that it wasn’t.  (And it wasn’t: they called me in after about ten minutes to congratulate me and sign the passing paperwork.)

I passed with no revisions, meaning that I don’t have to rewrite anything or add components to my dissertation.  Each committee member pointed out a few typos and suggested a clarifying sentence here or there in my introduction, but that’s all.  This is fairly common in my department, nothing extraordinary, but it still feels good.

Officially, I will receive my PhD in mid-August, when my university confers degrees that were completed during the summer semester.  I do still have to fix those typos and formally submit my dissertation to the university.  (Submissions are electronic these days, with much less stringent margin and formatting requirements than they used to require for paper copies.)  I’m also waiting to hear back from the referee on my latest paper, and I won’t feel mentally totally done until I’ve taken care of revisions on that.

To be honest, it still feels pretty unreal.  Did this actually happen?  Am I actually (almost) done?  My brain doesn’t quite know what to do with it, I think.  But it does feel good.

I love that Moana ties her hair up

The animated Disney film Moana came out on DVD/Blu-Ray last week; we hadn’t had the chance to see it in theaters, so we bought a copy and watched it at home.  It is a gorgeous, wonderful movie, with a strong heroine, great music, and the most amazing animation of water that you’ve ever seen.  Disney put a lot of thought into its portrayal of Polynesian culture and people, and while I have read thoughtful criticisms of some of their choices, the overall response seems to have been quite positive.

Blu-Ray case for the Disney movie Moana.

The quality of the animation is much higher than the quality of this photo.

On top of all that, there is a smaller aspect of Moana that was a joy to watch: Moana’s hair.  She has long, dark, wavy hair—and it behaves like real hair.  When she gets washed up on a beach, her hair is sandy and salt-poofed.  When she jumps or turns, her hair sometimes gets in her face.  And so when she’s getting ready to do some tricky sailing, she ties her hair up in a bun.

It was absolutely delightful to see a female character whose hair did not magically stay in place in all contexts.

I have straight, blonde-ish hair, so I’ve never suffered from a lack of “people who look like me” in movies, nor have I ever had to face the conscious and unconscious racism that can creep into people’s assessments of what constitutes “professional-looking” hair.  It’s still frustrating, though, that the cultural expectation for long-haired women of my age is that we wear it down, without clips or headbands or obvious hairspray to keep it in place.  And this is definitely a thing in popular entertainment—seriously, don’t even get me started on Supergirl’s hair.

My hair simply does not stay in place.  It gets in my eyes when I walk outside, when I play with my kid, even when I’m just sitting at my desk typing.  If I were superhero-ing or navigating a ship across the Pacific, you can bet my hair would be tied up.

It was so nice to see this in a movie!

Happy second birthday, blog!

It’s now been two years since I wrote my first post—happy birthday, little blog!  *Blows noisemakers and distributes virtual birthday cake.*  My posting frequency has been more erratic this year, but I’ve noticed something: my views-per-day never drop to zero anymore, even when it’s been weeks between new posts.  It feels like crazy grad mama has found its little niche on the internet, and that’s nice.  (Or maybe it’s just that the spambots know where to find me.  I prefer to look on the bright side.)

My biggest post this year was the one about why I hate attachment parenting.  It got shared by someone—I don’t know for sure, but I think it was the Skeptical OB—when it was posted in April, and continues to get new views nearly every day.   I like to imagine that new moms are finding it through search terms about their own frustrations with the expectations and pseudoscience of parenthood.

And speaking of traffic, a big shout-out to nicoleandmaggie, whose Saturday Link Loves have been my biggest driver of views after social media and search engines.  I was reading their blog long before I started my own, and it continues to be consistently excellent.

It’s been a big year outside of blogging, too.  I got another research paper published, and we put out a little press release that got picked up and repeated by the standard science content-reporters (IFLS, Gizmodo, etc.).  So now more people have read about my research than have read my blog, although I’m still quite sure that more people have read my blog than have read my actual research papers.

This coming year is going to be… well, it’s going to be full, and that’s about all I can predict with any accuracy.  Expect posts about pregnancy and new babies, about gender and identities and finding one’s place, and about the stress of finally finishing a PhD.  Oh gosh, what am I going to do about the blog’s name when I graduate?  Maybe it’s time to invest in a fancy header.

Thanks for being here for the ride.

Two pink lines

A positive pregnancy test.We have news.

We’re very happy, of course—we wanted this—but also kind of terrified.  It is a totally ridiculous time for us to have another child, but it is also the best of all possible times.  It may be the only possible time.

Early pregnancy is a time of waiting.  It’s too early for an ultrasound to tell us that everything’s going as it should.  Too early to see the flicker of a heartbeat on the screen.  The embryo is a tiny grain of rice, busily doing things that are entirely out of our control.

My body knows it’s there, though.  In the days before the test read positive, my face broke out like a repeat performance of puberty, and I lost the ability to fall asleep in a reasonable period of time.  The above paragraph originally noted that it was too early for morning sickness, but today my stomach started to notice the rising hormone levels and complain.  More symptoms will come, and my body will stretch and change as it did before.  And it will be scary and uncomfortable and wonderful and awful and amazing.

Hopefully.

Grow well, little one.