It's Done, and I'm Off

Taking another big breath. More like a sigh of relief. The conference paper is done, despite E deciding that this week would be a good time to get a yucky stomach bug and cut two new teeth, which prevented her from being able to attend montessori until yesterday. Her staying at home meant hubby staying home with her, while I worked furiously at the office to:

- write the damn conference paper,
- prepare materials for Friday's class and the instructor who'll be filling in for me (thank you again Supadiscomama!),
- hold several conferences with students who are still floundering with the concept of writing anything other than a mere summary of a poem.

I've been confident all along that if I survive the month, everything else is cake. This week, it became an issue of, if I can survive this week, I'll be happy to be alive!

With the backpack loaded with conference paper, stacks of papers to grade, and materials with which I must plan the schedule for the remainder of the semester, I'll soon be off to Home State. Since E made a recovery in time, and my mother is convinced she can handle the minor crankiness of a teething baby, E will be joining H and I on the 6-hour drive back home. While I'm at the conference, E will be staying with my parents - Nana and Papaw - for the very first time without mommy and daddy. Tomorrow morning will find me flying to Conference City, putting in a long day at the conference, complete with dinner and plenary lecture, and then driving to my aunt and uncle's house for lodging (I finally have a conference near relatives!). Aside from all teaching duties, my goals for the weekend are to

- Make some good contacts!
I have a horrible habit of shutting myself up in the hotel room, only attending the sessions that sound interesting, and only speaking to others when I'm spoken to first. This is not good, and I know it must change. The plenary speaker is also an editor for one of the journals in my field, and she's someone I've considered inviting to campus as part of a symposium on early modern women playwrights.

- Watch the football game of Home State College Team on Saturday.
I realizes these goals are somewhat at odds with each other, as my panel is on Saturday and so is the game. And, English academics aren't known for vegging in front of the lobby bar's t.v. to watch some pigskin. But, one must make room for change, right?

I may blog while I'm gone, taking advantage of extremely rare Time Away from Husband and Children. Or, maybe I'll do as a friend recently recommended: go wild and crazy on the town! :)

What about when Daddy cries?

So, if you've read my previous post today, then you know I was doing okay this morning. Well, it all changed when Daddy cried (my husband, that is). First, you should understand that my husband is a big man, former Marine, extremely happy to be back to work on his dissertation, and generally not an emotional "softy." After visiting the baby at daycare today, however, he broke down in tears in my office. The baby wasn't hurt. She wasn't crying when he left her. There was no immediate emergency or danger. She was simply sitting in the swing, looking out into space. This was the problem.

My husband explained that seeing the baby sitting in the swing just staring off to the side reminded him of an old person in a nursing home, just rocking away in a rocking chair, unaware of their own situation (lonely, stuck, away from family). Yesterday hadn't been a problem for him because when he visited the baby someone was holding her when he walked in and someone was holding her when he walked out. Today, however, he realized one of the hardest things: our baby can't be held all the time at daycare. Moreover, I think he realized that she's not going to get the near constant stimulation that we offer her when she's awake at home. For him, the time she spent in that swing without someone talking to her, cooing at her, trying to get her to smile or coo back was precious, and that time will be lost each day she's at daycare.

Seeing my husband cry broke my heart and I broke down all over again. Not quite as bad as yesterday, because I felt like I had to be the strong one this time. I reminded him that it would get better as she gets older and that he'll be staying home with both girls this summer (since he's not funded by his dept. in the summer). But for the first time since I've known this man, he mentioned quitting his PhD and getting a "real" job! The only thing that stopped his train of thought was the fact that it wouldn't change the situation: baby would still need daycare.

My co-worker, who's also kind of my boss, came in shortly after and saw I was clearly in distress. We talked about what the problem was, and despite not being a "kid person" of any kind, she suggested that I talk with the director of the office about bringing baby to work or doing some/most of my work from home (or a combination of the two). I'm only funded to work 15 hours, so this is actually quite feasible. What's interesting is the fact that I never expected my trauma (and it absolutely is a trauma) to be a Daddy problem too. I'm glad it is, don't get me wrong. And it should be more often. But all the things that my great friends said to me yesterday - the things that made me feel better - didn't necessarily work with my husband. As a father, he didn't necessarily feel any better at all, which makes me wonder if there are any resources that put dads in touch with each other about this kind of issue. Needless to say, we're absolutely considering the work-from-home option for me, at least for this semester. It won't completely solve the problem, but it's the best we can do for now.