L. has been doing this thing for a few days where, when she's just asleep and I put her in the Rock'n'Play (which, a hundred alases, we're going to have to give up soon because she's getting both too old and too big for it), she wakes up a bit and gives me a mad-sad face and starts crying. But when I pick her up and cuddle her, her head sinks onto my shoulder and she falls asleep for real.
It's a little like the very early days, when she was something like three or four weeks old: often when she cried (but didn't concretely need anything) I could hold her against my chest and she'd nestle herself in and go to sleep. She stopped doing that after a while, I think about either the six-week or two-month mark. But this new variation, so to speak, is a sweet one.
8.05.2017
7.12.2017
Cranky Question (Alternate Title: First-World Problems)
So if chocolate is basically produced via modern-day slave labor a large percentage of the time, as I heard back in grad school, isn't there some U.S. governmental body that looks into supply-chain issues? There are regulations about so many other things. Do we not set standards for how things get sourced? Can we really not do anything on our own end, even if we can't change other countries' regulations?
Because I'm going on, like, my seventh year of having to feel guilty every time I eat something chocolate-based that isn't expressively Fair Trade, but I can't help wondering why it's my job to not buy things because I don't know how they might have been made, as opposed to some governmental body, something with actual background knowledge and actual clout, being in charge of keeping them off the shelves if they truly are a moral outrage. I understand that people gave up sugar back in Wilberforce's time, and I'm not saying there's something wrong with that. But I am saying that that shouldn't have to be the default strategy. The default strategy, if the stakes are as high as slavery, should be for government bodies to do their jobs, not for us to call on semi-informed citizens to engage in a boycott if they aren't made of money and can't buy Fair Trade everything. Like, didn't C.S. Lewis write something about this somewhere, about how to some extent, you can't be expected to background-research every charitable cause before you give to it? It's kind of a similar thing, isn't it?
Because I'm going on, like, my seventh year of having to feel guilty every time I eat something chocolate-based that isn't expressively Fair Trade, but I can't help wondering why it's my job to not buy things because I don't know how they might have been made, as opposed to some governmental body, something with actual background knowledge and actual clout, being in charge of keeping them off the shelves if they truly are a moral outrage. I understand that people gave up sugar back in Wilberforce's time, and I'm not saying there's something wrong with that. But I am saying that that shouldn't have to be the default strategy. The default strategy, if the stakes are as high as slavery, should be for government bodies to do their jobs, not for us to call on semi-informed citizens to engage in a boycott if they aren't made of money and can't buy Fair Trade everything. Like, didn't C.S. Lewis write something about this somewhere, about how to some extent, you can't be expected to background-research every charitable cause before you give to it? It's kind of a similar thing, isn't it?
6.14.2017
Summer Leave '17 - Week One of Six
There's no way for a mere human to "cherish every moment," but I don't know when I'll ever have so much time again to spend with my baby - whether it be this one or, if God wills, any future one(s). Well, unless I take some of my FMLA time unpaid next time around, I guess, since it took me four years to earn enough sick time to cover most of this leave. But I suppose it's possible that a governmental push for a standardized paid parental leave could succeed by the time we end up doing all this again.
Anyway, in some ways the time has seemed short, but in other it's seemed kindly long. The early-March near-panic of trying to figure out L.'s car seat feels far in the past, succeeded by a fairly low-stress ability now to just strap her in and go, not crazily far from the have-baby-will-travel attitude I'd been dreaming of when I originally contemplated this time of year. (Here's hoping that eventually putting her in the Baby K'tan will feel the same way, though at least there's now the Ergobaby to bail me out in a few months if not.)
But for the grace of God (I am still very thankful for all the prayers for my job situation those years ago), I would probably be now in the place of some other moms in the nursing-mothers group I attend weekly: searching for daycare while wondering if it really makes sense for me to go back to work at all. My mom cycled through all three classic configurations of work-motherhood balance over about the first dozen years of my life - full-time work, stay-at-home-momhood, part-time work - which contributes to my being able to picture myself in any of them. Nerd though I am, I think I could be very happy staying home: I love my daughter (and my husband, who would presumably share in the benefits of my having a domestic-engineering job), I like to cook and run errands, I can tolerate cleaning house, and I could do more for church. But even if our health insurance and some of my future retirement funding weren't running through the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, I don't think, in the end, that I'd stay away from school. I have the kind of job I wanted most in high school, although I didn't know then what form it would take: I think I am "doing something that means something." While no worker is irreplaceable, and education is not quite the shining and salvific thing that college employees are often tempted to conclude that it is, my students do tend to need the day-to-day things I provide, and for a wide range of reasons, I think I'm able to provide contributions to the program I serve that, at least for right now, are unique.
So I'm praying that we pick a good place for L. to go during the day, and I'm hoping to make something good out of these next six weeks. Some days it still feels weird that L. is here with us for good (though certainly that's what I want). But she is, and I hope to remember more of her babyhood (and, for that matter, my marriage) than I remember of most other things. Hopefully returning to this blog will aid that.
Anyway, in some ways the time has seemed short, but in other it's seemed kindly long. The early-March near-panic of trying to figure out L.'s car seat feels far in the past, succeeded by a fairly low-stress ability now to just strap her in and go, not crazily far from the have-baby-will-travel attitude I'd been dreaming of when I originally contemplated this time of year. (Here's hoping that eventually putting her in the Baby K'tan will feel the same way, though at least there's now the Ergobaby to bail me out in a few months if not.)
But for the grace of God (I am still very thankful for all the prayers for my job situation those years ago), I would probably be now in the place of some other moms in the nursing-mothers group I attend weekly: searching for daycare while wondering if it really makes sense for me to go back to work at all. My mom cycled through all three classic configurations of work-motherhood balance over about the first dozen years of my life - full-time work, stay-at-home-momhood, part-time work - which contributes to my being able to picture myself in any of them. Nerd though I am, I think I could be very happy staying home: I love my daughter (and my husband, who would presumably share in the benefits of my having a domestic-engineering job), I like to cook and run errands, I can tolerate cleaning house, and I could do more for church. But even if our health insurance and some of my future retirement funding weren't running through the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, I don't think, in the end, that I'd stay away from school. I have the kind of job I wanted most in high school, although I didn't know then what form it would take: I think I am "doing something that means something." While no worker is irreplaceable, and education is not quite the shining and salvific thing that college employees are often tempted to conclude that it is, my students do tend to need the day-to-day things I provide, and for a wide range of reasons, I think I'm able to provide contributions to the program I serve that, at least for right now, are unique.
So I'm praying that we pick a good place for L. to go during the day, and I'm hoping to make something good out of these next six weeks. Some days it still feels weird that L. is here with us for good (though certainly that's what I want). But she is, and I hope to remember more of her babyhood (and, for that matter, my marriage) than I remember of most other things. Hopefully returning to this blog will aid that.