It's 3 a.m. . . . I Think I'll Call the White House
So the irony is that of the three of us, the four-month-old is the best sleeper tonight. I've been having some trouble sleeping lately, and I think it's the knowledge that the summer, which has been the happiest time of my life, is speeding by. I know things will work out in the fall when I return to work, but never having ridden this bike before, I only know what it's supposed to look like--I don't quite know how to do it yet myself, or how it should feel. It's hard to prepare mentally for something so new, when the immediate consequences of my doing it seem so important, as every single day is so important in how Allison Clare changes and grows.
Here is what I know so far: Sam and I set up our teaching schedules so he will teach in the morning and I will teach in the afternoon, and we will have a babysitter for a couple of hours on certain afternoons each week so I can attend afternoon meetings. Covering our classes and office hours will not be a problem.
But I would say that being in the classroom amounts to only about 15-20% of my job. It will be more of a challenge to cover all the other things: class prep, reading, mountains of grading, departmental and committee projects, advising, workshops, administrative projects, etc., much less progress on research.
This summer, as I've had day after day of largely uninterrupted time at home with Allison Clare, Sam and I have found that when I'm not working, we enjoy a really lovely life. There's room to breathe, get things done, keep our lives the way we want them: passably clean house, good meals at home, little household stress. If Allison Clare needs a long nap, she can have it; if she needs more attention on a given day, I can give it to her easily. I didn't know before she was born if I would feel like I occasionally needed time away or something, and honestly, I don't feel that way--what I want is to be with her and enjoy her littleness all the time, every precious minute.
It may sound like I want to stay at home. Truthfully, I do. But 1) I also want to work--in the future. Or at least, I am not certain enough about how I'd feel in the future if I were to give up forever my ability to pursue my profession, such as when AC goes to school herself and no longer needs me for a good part of each day. 2) In my field, it's virtually impossible to leave for a few years and return. To illustrate, there were 300-400 applicants for three jobs in our department the year I was hired; a candidate who had been out of the profession for a while would have had little shot. I could perhaps teach on an adjucnt basis, but that equates to much of the work without many of the rewards. And of course, 3) there are the years of grueling and heartbreaking work that went into obtaining the degree.
All of that said, part of me also wonders these things: 1) When she goes to school, will I regret all the more not having been with her during this time? 2) As far as the likelihood of finding aother job, I somehow feel certain that if I took the step I was supposed to take now, there would be another "right" option down the road, even if it were one I could not anticipate. 3) I'd always have the education for its own sake, right, John Dewey? (Or to take a darker tack: sunk cost . . .)
So, here I am. It's an embarrassment of riches, I know: should I stay home with my healthy, wonderful baby, or go to work at a job that I love and am way (undeservedly way) lucky to have? It's not even really a question right now anyway; I'm committed to my department and scheduled to offer certain classes this year. And we weren't able to sell my house this past year, so we are carrying two mortgages, partially offset by renting the old house out, but at a loss.
But still.
As this entry probably makes clear, I'm not getting any closer to sleep, though I am getting closer to AC's wake-up time.
The one good thing is that as a result of this open question, I think the balance is shifting slightly back to a center between the contemplative habits I had enjoyed prior to marriage/baby and the praxis (taking care of other people in a physical, practical sense) that has been the substance of my devotion in the past year. I often think of our lives and our faith as circles around us; as our lives enlarge, our faith needs to grow too. In that time when one has grown past the other, we experience an anxiety, but a productive one, one that at best drives us to our knees, whether in fear and trembling or awe and gratitude--or both.
Here is what I know so far: Sam and I set up our teaching schedules so he will teach in the morning and I will teach in the afternoon, and we will have a babysitter for a couple of hours on certain afternoons each week so I can attend afternoon meetings. Covering our classes and office hours will not be a problem.
But I would say that being in the classroom amounts to only about 15-20% of my job. It will be more of a challenge to cover all the other things: class prep, reading, mountains of grading, departmental and committee projects, advising, workshops, administrative projects, etc., much less progress on research.
This summer, as I've had day after day of largely uninterrupted time at home with Allison Clare, Sam and I have found that when I'm not working, we enjoy a really lovely life. There's room to breathe, get things done, keep our lives the way we want them: passably clean house, good meals at home, little household stress. If Allison Clare needs a long nap, she can have it; if she needs more attention on a given day, I can give it to her easily. I didn't know before she was born if I would feel like I occasionally needed time away or something, and honestly, I don't feel that way--what I want is to be with her and enjoy her littleness all the time, every precious minute.
It may sound like I want to stay at home. Truthfully, I do. But 1) I also want to work--in the future. Or at least, I am not certain enough about how I'd feel in the future if I were to give up forever my ability to pursue my profession, such as when AC goes to school herself and no longer needs me for a good part of each day. 2) In my field, it's virtually impossible to leave for a few years and return. To illustrate, there were 300-400 applicants for three jobs in our department the year I was hired; a candidate who had been out of the profession for a while would have had little shot. I could perhaps teach on an adjucnt basis, but that equates to much of the work without many of the rewards. And of course, 3) there are the years of grueling and heartbreaking work that went into obtaining the degree.
All of that said, part of me also wonders these things: 1) When she goes to school, will I regret all the more not having been with her during this time? 2) As far as the likelihood of finding aother job, I somehow feel certain that if I took the step I was supposed to take now, there would be another "right" option down the road, even if it were one I could not anticipate. 3) I'd always have the education for its own sake, right, John Dewey? (Or to take a darker tack: sunk cost . . .)
So, here I am. It's an embarrassment of riches, I know: should I stay home with my healthy, wonderful baby, or go to work at a job that I love and am way (undeservedly way) lucky to have? It's not even really a question right now anyway; I'm committed to my department and scheduled to offer certain classes this year. And we weren't able to sell my house this past year, so we are carrying two mortgages, partially offset by renting the old house out, but at a loss.
But still.
As this entry probably makes clear, I'm not getting any closer to sleep, though I am getting closer to AC's wake-up time.
The one good thing is that as a result of this open question, I think the balance is shifting slightly back to a center between the contemplative habits I had enjoyed prior to marriage/baby and the praxis (taking care of other people in a physical, practical sense) that has been the substance of my devotion in the past year. I often think of our lives and our faith as circles around us; as our lives enlarge, our faith needs to grow too. In that time when one has grown past the other, we experience an anxiety, but a productive one, one that at best drives us to our knees, whether in fear and trembling or awe and gratitude--or both.
posted by Tara | 3:05 AM
2 Comments:
I share your concerns--I too love my job and though unlike you, do sometimes feel the need to get away, I wonder and wonder if I'm doing the right thing. But I think (and this is just me) that the happiness that comes from having so much richness is an important inheritance to pass onto our children--so maybe we'll feel as though that will balance out having less time at home. I mostly do feel that way. But I do love my weekends with my boy.~Noël
This is one of the hardest things about having a career. Like you, I'm in a field which won't allow one to take years off to raise a family. I think the most important thing is learning to segregate work and private time. On working days, I never check my email or the internet while Lydia's awake. I also try to pack as much love and fun into those hours that I'm home as possible. It's not perfect, but it's a trade-off.
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