Eons and ages ago...

I applied for grad school.

This was way back when sexism was slightly more rampant, I guess.

I met with a chemistry professor (actually he was the chair of the department) while interviewing and the conversation went something like this:

Me: "What classes would I teach as a TA?"

Him: "Chem 101 and 102."

Me: "Would I ever teach upper division chemistry?"

Him: "No. We have found that women aren't generally well received as TA's for upper division classes."

I wanted to leave right then. I knew I wouldn't go there and my lunch with grad students (the male student interviewing got to lunch with professors) shed light that this was not an isolated incident and that sexism was "rampant" in the department.

I ran the other way.

A few years later I heard that professors name and cringed. A woman I knew was leaving our grad program to go work for him. I warned her. (She never graduated.)

The guy's name has popped up randomly over the nearly 20 years since I was checking out grad schools and each time I shudder.

The group I am working with is awesome now. No sexism at all. I think my company is average. It hasn't been absent in my career over the last 12 years, but it hasn't been "rampant" either.

A friend of mine a few years ago made the comment that she had noted a distinct lack of sexism and poor treatment from her male colleagues who had daughters. And she is right. That's not to say that men who don't have kids or aren't married with wives working outside the home are sexist at all - right now I work with a totally awesome guy who is in his late 50's, never married and no kids - and he has all the same expectations for me as anyone else in the group. And maybe more actually. But some of the most patient and best mentors I have had along the way are dads of daughters.

That icky professor popped, once again, back into my life a few weeks ago. My colleague (who has a college aged daughter) and I are hosting a Workshop this summer. It is truly an honor to be running this thing and to be hosting the accompanying roadmapping session for all the leading agencies on US research investment in mass spectrometry. One of my duties is to invite people to attend and to respond to our client's requests to send invites.

I got one a few weeks ago asking me to invite jackass sexist professor. I cringed and wiggled and made faces at my computer. Then I sent him the canned invitation and didn't even write on it, "you probably don't remember me, but you told me I wouldn't be well received as a female scientist teaching upper division chemistry. Not only did I teach it at the University I attended, but I received both department and University wide teaching awards. And I went to work here and am now have a very successful career where my teams have won a number of awards. Jackass."

I sent the normal template and set to waiting. Then when out for drinks with my male colleagues where after a few glasses of wine I confessed what brought puke to the back of my throat and made me steam a bit at my desk the other day. They weren't shocked. We had an interesting discussion about sexism in the workplace. One of my contractors told me about his good friend who is dean of sciences at a very well known California school who confessed to him the number of struggles she STILL HAS with the old school professors. He is probably 70 years old and just does not understand how this could still be the case.

Anyways.

I got a reply from jackass sexist pig professor.

"Thank you for the invitation Dr. Nuclear Mom. I am so sorry that I will not be able to attend as I will be on vacation during that time. My best wishes for your success in this roadmapping session. I hope you don't mind that I sent your invitation to my daughter who is a graduate student in chemistry at X university and have recommended that she attend the Workshop portion of the week. I think she would enjoy it. Thank you again."

WTF.

He has a daughter. In college. Studying chemistry.

I counted back. She was a baby or toddler when I sat in his office.

I don't have any answers. Still. But it set me back a little. Was it that she was a baby and he didn't see the possibilities? I am guessing he wouldn't tell his daughter not to expect a teaching appointment in upper division as she is a woman. Or would he? No. He wouldn't. Has he changed?

Do I care? Yes and No. And I can't really explain it. But maybe I have softened to him. This person I met once a long time ago who once said a really stupid thing that I couldn't let go.

And oh, his daughter did not decide to attend our Workshop. I kind of wanted to meet her. So I am slightly bummed.

Well Children

Silas - age 1

Weight: 25.78 lbs - 86.62%
Height: 29.75"  - 49.6%
Head 18.9 in - 89.55%

Crawling fast, pulls himself up, mama, dada, ca (cat), uh oh (when he throws something on the floor). Loves his food - eats everything we put in front of him. Loves balls more than anything.

Skadi - age 7

Height: 45.75" - 16.3%
And since she is getting older, I am not going to post her weight. But it is commensurate with the height.
She is losing pace and I am trying not to be worried. She is a poor eater with lots of tummy aches that we have seen numerous doctors for. Even though she did not test positive for the celiac screen or for wheat allergy, we are trying gluten free for awhile. This has to show Skadi's desparation to resolve the issues as she is a baked goods junky. She gets this from me, I am positive.

Comparisons:

Skadi age 1:
Length - 29.75" - 75th percentile
Weight - 25 lbs, 2 oz - 95th percentile
Head 45 cm
Leif age 1:
Weight 23 lbs 12.5 oz (33%)
Height 30.25" (55%)
Head 47 cm

Skadi and Silas are still tracking well together. Silas just a touch heavier then Skadi. What surprises me is that Leif had a half inch on Silas at this point, but was nearly 6 lbs lighter! Bean pole. Still is.

Busy busy bees

Well life is definitely busier as a mom of three. I love my blog - keeping it, going back and reading the past. And I want to stay on top of it, but my time. I have none.

I have a tough transition this week. To that of a non-nursing mom. I have always loved nursing my kids. When we thought we wouldn't get to have another baby after Skadi I mourned the fact that when I weaned her I hadn't really thought or commemorated in my own mind, "the last time I am nursing". And I regretted that at the time.

This time around I am wondering if that wasn't the better option? Now it is marked. Now the last nursing session (unless something goes very awry) is going to be tomorrow.

I am headed out Monday morning at the crack of dawn to get on an airplane where I will be gone all week to Tennessee. Yay. Not. Honestly I am most looking forward to sitting in the hotel working and catching up on things, uninterrupted.

That means that the last time I nurse Silas will either be Sunday afternoon or Monday early morning.

He has been weaning - only nursing once during the day and if he wakes at night. I don't have much milk at all. But making this final step going cold turkey has me panicking a little!

I can't stand pumping on travel. I have done it for a number of trips and I am really done. I am not hauling the big pump as I need to haul enough crap along on this trip. So I am taking the hand pump only. And after 5 days I fully expect that there will be nothing left when I get back.

And Silas will certainly have let it go.

Nursing hasn't been as easy this time around. Supply issues, cracked and bleeding nipples, you name it. Things I never struggled with before.

But still... he's my last! The last baby I will nurse.

There will be tears.

But next Friday all will be good and we will have moved on.

All about the baby

I keep writing posts that never make it to being published. Various reasons – spilling too much, that post sounds braggy, just plain too busy and then the post seems old. I know it doesn’t count that I intend to post.

 

Maybe if I stick with the kid topic I will be better? I posted so much about the older two kids early in their development. Silas is becoming totally the third kid.

 

All About Silas:

 

The big boy is just shy of one year old. Where has this last year gone? Seriously I feel as though I have blinked and he is suddenly a year old. I keep saying it. Must stop blinking.

 

He likes…

 

Silas is my ball kid. He loves balls. His favorite is a junior sized basketball. But he is starting to get dangerous with it as he hefts it over his head and shows that he can put some distance behind that ball and that his aim isn’t too bad. He loves his ball popper, his purple ball he can grip with one hand (and whip at someone walking by). The kid will rock at dodgeball. (If they play that anymore.) Silas will sit and throw a ball back and forth with you for as long as you are willing. When he goes to daycare there is a mad scramble for a ball to give him to distract him so I can walk out. It will be very interesting to see if he grows up to be a natural athlete.

 

Food. Silas also likes food. Pasta especially. Pizza too. He is an amazing eater and will eat most everything we put in front of him. I think Leif was like that. Skadi was not and we still struggle with getting her to even try a small tiny taste of things. Silas loves blueberries and grapefruit especially. This past weekend he ate an entire grapefruit. Not a half. A whole grapefruit. In one sitting. He is vocal when he wants more of something. Screams. Screams until he gets more. We are working on signing for “more” and “done”. This was a huge hit with my older two. Silas just prefers to scream so far.

 

His brother and sister. Truly thinks they are saints. Which is difficult because they can be serious turkeys and Silas just beams at them like the antics they came up with are the most wonderful notions ever. A common refrain in the house is, “but mom, Silas likes it!” One of Silas’ favorite things to do is sit on his riding toy and have the kids push him around the living room. And around. And around. What you thought 113 times was enough? He is screaming because he wants you to push more. They are usually quite willing, so it works out for all involved.

 

And what he likes MOST of all? His dad. Dada. Heaven forbid that AB come home from work and then leave again (like if he needs to go to the store) because Silas will scream until he returns. AB can do no wrong. He squeals “DADA!” when AB walks in the door. He squeals “DADA!” when AB walks by the room. Basically he squeals “DADA!” nearly all the time.

 

Silas also likes the cat. Or “ca”. He loves to go in and feed “ca”. But he also calls Skadi’s hamster “ca”. Interestingly enough, Freya is not a “ca”.

Have you noted that Mama has not been mentioned? Yeah. Me too. 

 

Silas has 8 teeth and is working on four molars. Fun for all. He crawls and pulls himself up on things. Cruises a bit along the couch and such. No standing by himself yet and no walking. Why would he walk when everyone hauls him around?

 

Containment is not his thing. At all. It is ok if he is in the backpack out for a walk. But similar with my other kids, the stroller is evil. And once the food disappears in front of him, the high chair – it is evil too. Going to listen to his brother’s first piano recital = torture of the purest sort. With the other two kids we didn’t have much to attend to outside of them as they were little. But the kids have their big music performance coming up for school. And that would be misery with Silas. Hello babysitter. Finding that we are leaving Silas with a sitter a lot more than the other two kids saw a sitter at this age.

 

Daycare has been up and down. We loved the two lead infant teachers. Then one was fired. Unjustly IMO. Thanks to one of those Nazi first time moms who thinks that her child is the only one in the room and deserves one on one attention all the time. We picked up the fired teacher as a nanny and enjoyed that for a week. Then she got a new job she couldn’t refuse and I couldn't match (benefits), so I scrambled back to daycare and begged for our position back. And yes, it all worked out. And Silas got to stay in the first infant room with the little babies because his teacher loves him so. (Or so they tell me… I always wonder if it is because I am a real pain in the ass parent and none of the other teachers wants to deal with me?) Anyways, she loves Silas and wanted him in her room until he was one. I said sure and hoped a tiny bit that she would keep him until he was 5. But she said no. Regardless, we will make the move to the toddler room in a few weeks. Then two months after that we will make the move down the road to the Montessori school that has siphoned away so much of our money for the last decade.

 

At nearly one year old the other difference between Silas and my other two is weaning. Skadi would have nursed for a few years if I would have let her. She weaned at 16 months – actually I should say that I weaned her. Leif was 13 months. So I guess I am not terribly far off with Silas as compared with Leif. But I was a serious cow with the other two. Production queen. I could have had triplets! Not so this time around and we have had to supplement Silas with formula since Christmas. I suspect my age, but the nursing just has not come easily this time around for some reason. It is good I had such a good experience with the other two, because I can totally understand why some moms cave and quit. But I have been determined to make it to a year. I have struggled with cracked nipples, lack of production, inability to pump acceptable amounts, bottle rejection… it hasn’t been easy. But I will make it to one year. Then I will moan and sob about my last baby.

 

It is all bittersweet though. When things have gone well with nursing, I love it. I love those tender moments. But the issues I have had to work through this time around actually have me feeling not so terribly sad to see the nursing go by the wayside. And hey, I am REALLY looking forward to wearing a normal bra again. But there will be tears as I realize I am nursing my babies for the last time ever.

 

9 Month Comparison

So I am a bit slow in posting my 9 month comparison. But here it is!

Silas:
Wt: 24 lbs 4 oz - 90th
Length: 29" - 75th

Skadi:
Wt: 24 lbs 3 oz - 98th
Length: 29" - 87th

Yes seriously. I can't figure out why Skadi looked so much chunkier honestly.

Leif:
Wt: 20 lbs 12 oz - 50th
Length: 28" - 75th

"Five Star Shops"

Before embarking on this wacky post, here is the background you should know:

Fortune Street has been one of our favorite family Wii games. It isn’t particularly easy (Skadi isn’t old/interested enough) and it is long as hell (Monopoly on steroids). Basically you buy shops (properties), some you build on (vacant plots) and others are already established. There are a lot of nuances – like if you build a home, everyone gets warped there. Or you can build a tax office where when you land on it you receive payback, while others land on it and they pay you. That all is the Monopoly part. The “On Steroids” part comes from the investment and stock options. You can purchase stock in your or other people’s properties. And “real-ish” stuff happens, stocks go up, some go down a bit, you get interest when someone lands on and pays and you own stock.

 

Leif latched onto this game from an early age and mastered it. This triggered his interest in stocks and he now has his own (very small) stock portfolio. (Yay Bank of America, Boo Nintendo) In the game your shops are awarded stars as you build them up and invest in them. Eventually you might get to the point of having “Five Star Shops”. If you are Leif, this is your ultimate goal and certain recipe to winning. We have told Leif that yes, there are in real life, five star shops.

 

And that is where the story begins.

 

Well lately this has turned into a rating system of sorts to him. Walmart, one star. Target, two stars (I push for the third, but he is a stickler). The shops at the mall, they are three star. And Leif someday hopes to own his own string of Five Star Shops - in real life.

 

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Going to a “Real Five Star Shop”

 

We went to Seattle for a day last week. Skadi had a doctor’s appointment and we decided to haul everyone over for some good food and a zoo visit. AB declared that if we all go over that he wanted to eat some really good food. Poor guy. I have gone on travel lately and have been able to partake of “five star” restaurants in relative peace. Not AB. He has been stuck at home.

 

I honed in on a few options for dining and we had a plan in mind since we would have all three kids. We would go early – like 5pm – heavily armed with every sort of distraction a 9 month old may want. And then with the other two? Impress them.

 

Impress upon them the importance of behaving well. Impress upon them mommy and daddy’s need for good food. And then – simply impress them! So when we sat down leery-like at Wasabi Bistro in downtown Seattle I blurted it out.

 

“Hey Leif,” I said, “this is a five star restaurant.”

 

And well they probably don’t even have one Michelin star. But it was definitely the nicest restaurant they have been to.

 

“Really!!” Leif gawks.

 

“Yep,” I told him, “and you can order whatever you want on the menu.” (Knowing full well it would probably be chicken teriyaki.)

 

“DO I GET TO ORDER WHATEVER I WANT?” Skadi squealed.

 

And you know what? It worked. They behaved. Silas was a notch below “behaving”, but we dealt.

 

Leif settled on the Wagyu beef sliders (amazingly no chicken teriyaki), he was a little disappointed that they didn’t have bacon that you could pay $1 extra for. Honestly I didn’t ask if they could put bacon on them. He added a sashimi plate (happy hour special $7) and a bowl of miso.

 

Skadi ordered teriyaki chicken. Or more accurately I discreetly ordered the Crispy Miso Chicken with a side of steamed rice for her.

 

Silas had applesauce and a few grains of rice and then a case of the fussies. AB and I grazed on sushi rolls. And clam miso. And sake. And nigiri.

 

The kids loved it and raved about the food and they weren’t totally obnoxious. Phew.

 

 

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

 

Five Star Cooking

 

Leif’s teacher has them set goals, they write up the goal, she checks it and then sends it home for a parent’s signature. This month’s goal is to read more cooking books with the ultimate goal to “be able to cook a five star restaurant quality meal”. I read this and smirked.

 

Lofty goal for a 9 year old.

 

And I love it. Challenge has been set.

 

He picked up my Culinary Institute of America Textbook to get a little background and start honing in on his goal. Shellfish.

 

Hmm…

 

He has eaten a clam before and declared “I like it, but not sure I want to eat another right now.” He loves shrimp. Cold peel and eat shrimp or shrimp sushi with a little soy sauce. He has absolutely no interest in shrimp that has been altered in any way with sauce or cooking methods.

 

Shellfish?

 

“You know if you cook it, you have to eat it?” I asked him.

 

“Umm,” he said. “I thought I would just cook it for you.”

 

“Tasting your food is a major part of cooking. You can’t cook and not taste your food,” I told him channeling my best Tom Colicchio while my husband smirks off to the side.

 

AB decided to jump in for the save.

 

“How about you cook filet mignon or pork chops? Those can both be fancy meals and they are things you love.” AB asks him.

 

SOLD!

 

This weekend I am looking forward to very fancy meal researched and prepared by my nine year old in his every effort to create for me a Five Star Restaurant experience.

Piano lessons and pies and sausage gravy and technique and doing what you love versus not

My parents started me in piano lessons when I was five. I am learning now that that age was ridiculously young to start piano lessons. Here I thought that starting Leif at age nine was ridiculously late and that he would spend his life lamenting - "well I could have been a piano prodigy, but you never listened to me". He has been asking for lessons since he was four or five. And yes, it took me four to five years to buy a piano and find a teacher.

Anyways, when my mom interviewed my piano teacher she told my mom "I do this as an avocation, not a vocation." Or I might have reversed this... whatever - basically she told my mom that she does this to make money, not because she particularly enjoys it.

Lately, as Leif has started lessons with Mr. Hopkins, I wonder about Mrs. Connoly. She was a funny French woman. She only drank "fresh" juice - if "fresh" is defined as coming from the can in the frozen aisle. Her husband sat in his recliner daily smoking a pipe.

Anyways, I thought about this phrase - doing something for money and not for the love of it - recently. I think a lot of people do this in many forms. For many, they work their current jobs because they have to, not because they love it. I am lucky, I am in a spot right now where I really love what I am doing. I haven't always had that and I don't have any expectations that I will always have it in the future.

So if you know me or my blog, you know I got my degrees in chemistry. I admit it - shhh - I don't love chemistry. But it enables me to do what I love to do in my job. I know this seems like a weird dichotomy to some. But molecular equations don't drive me. Applications of science in general, that drives me.

Many chemists also love to cook. It makes complete sense. If you enjoy building stuff from the elements, then you might also enjoy building your food from scratch. I do. Lots.

I love to cook. I love hearty, winter foods. Short ribs, gravies, roasts, ducks, chickens... I actually like cooking more than I like chemistry and I sometimes think I could have made a career being a chef. Except that I don't smoke. And I can't seem to stay up after 9pm. And I am not tattooed.

I also have my list of things I love to eat... pie, pot pie, breads, scones, muffins... pastry based items of all types. But here is my downfall (aside from the fattening aspect)... I love eating them but I turn into an evil beast when making them. I have a keen understanding that it is all about technique. And I get the technique and well understand that there are no substitutes for cold butter, cream, and getting  your hands dirty. And that the rub method (cited by CIA - that's the CULINARY Institute of America, not the other org) is the only way to go and that a food processor turns good butter and flour to a warm meal. Blah blah blah.

I can do it. I can make an amazing pie because I understand the technique and I can execute it. And I love to eat pies, but a real treat is one produced from people who understand the technique as well, that it isn't always all about the filling, because I am a snob like that. (But I never turn down pie as a general rule.) It wasn't until I embraced the technique and quit looking for work arounds to getting my hands dirty that my baking world changed. So I can do it. But man I don't love doing it.

I like doing it ok most of the time because I love the results. But I could NOT make my life as a pastry chef.

Every year (or so) AB and I do pot pies. They are freaking amazing. And I know why they are amazing. They take a few days. Rubbed pastry. Cooked carcasses. A perfect roux. And veggies cooked just right. Results are amazing. And every year we do a bigger and bigger batch. Except last year. Because I was pregnant and unwilling to do what I really really don't like. Make double pie crust after double pie crust after double pie crust. This year I was a little more pliable and looked forward to the deliciousness. But last Saturday night I went into a spiral. Four pot pies down and filling for at least another four (I was thinking about them as gifts or for donation to the church to give to families after a life event). And I raged. A little.

Result is that now I have four pies in the freezer and four bags of filling in the freezer.

So anyways. That's my lesson. Vocation vs. avocation. One you love, one you do because you have to. I make pastry because I have to eat it. It is a must. But I don't love doing it.

As an aside and what got me thinking about this, this morning, particularly in concert with Leif's piano lessons (which he did his second last night) - was my need for biscuits and gravy. WTF? I don't eat biscuits and gravy. I have never made freaking biscuits and gravy. Ok - I made biscuits in Home Ec. But not something I make at home regularly. But I embraced the challenge this morning.

Biscuits in a classic method - a-freaking-mazing. And no, I have never actually made sausage gravy. But I know the technique quite well and have sausage that has never seen a store. Came straight from the butcher.

Finished and my husband fell at my feet. I rock. But don't ask me to do it again for at least a few months.

Happy New Year

I am not a huge fan of New Years. I am usually still trying to let go of recover from Christmas. Then there is that pending birthday that arrives a mere week later. Not to mention that as a government employee I am kind of left pondering ‘haven’t we already started 2014, like 3 months ago?’ Oh and then AB and I have a long history of crappy New Year’s Eve celebrations too – at least back when those NYE celebrations seemed to actually matter. When we cared about going out and not staying in. A thing of the past now.

 

Now, we would rather stay in.

 

This year we hauled the trailer out for a winter camping trip and had a great time. Hanging with the kids in the trailer on New Year’s Eve – exactly what I wanted and needed. It won’t be long before they will be off running to hang with their friends for the holiday. I need to gobble up the ones now where they actually want to be with us. With Leif approaching 10 I see only a handful of family New Year’s Eves left.

 

I told the kids they could stay up until midnight. And so we all set about around the tiny trailer table with snacks and board games. Then we started Monopoly. And then AB and I started getting tired. We knew exactly what needed to be done – a movie. Then at 10:20 pm AB was transporting sleeping kids to their bunks. And we headed off to bed. There was some mumbling to the kids about “yes, it is midnight”.

 

It was perfect.

 

I don’t like resolutions – I am doomed to fail at resolutions. I like the idea of setting goals. I guess they seem less rigid and doomed to failure for some reason. I haven’t even introduced the kids to the idea of resolutions yet either. I kind of find myself hmm’ing and covering my ears when I hear about “resolution time”. Oh and I am also reminded of how dreadful it will be in getting three kids into the health club for swimming lessons…

 

My goals this year:

 

This year I would like to work on the Master Bedroom – get it painted and organized. Figure out some furniture that will solve problems in that room. Refocus on a place for us. Silas is moved out and into his bedroom (except for the changing station, which is still there as a matter of convenience). I also want to boot the older kids out of the Master bath. If I boot their toys that litter my shower, will they follow? They each have a bathroom with a bathtub and shower. (Yes, spoiled kids.) I think they should use them instead of the soaking tub / swimming pool and the falling apart standalone shower that I keep eyeing as a reno project.

 

I also need to lose the baby weight and get back to exercising. “They” say that there is always time for exercise, that you should make time. I would challenge someone to look at my schedule and current situation and help me figure out where that time is and what should suffer for that time slot. It is my goal for the year – it isn’t going to happen immediately. But maybe once Silas is sleeping through the night I can consistently get up 40 mins early to exercise like I used to and not feel totally sleep deprived. Those blanket statements that come from people that are something like “if you really wanted it, you would find time for it” really piss me off. As a working mom of three children ranging in age from 9 months to nearly 10 years old I will be the first to tell you that everyone has different needs and priorities. I do want to work out, and it is my goal to find time in 2014, but I also need to keep my head above water.

 

The other day at church one of the guest speakers was talking about goals and planning for the year – keeping organized in your life and finding passion. A lot of what he said struck me and I walked away with a lot of tidbits. One of my favorites though is that to add something new in your life that most of us need to say goodbye to something else. I don’t have spare time. I don’t get bored. I don’t do a lot of mundane tasks. The 3-4 hours of TV I watch a week are on Friday and Saturday evenings when AB and I can sit together on the couch. It doesn't happen any other time. I can’t just fill time with things I want to do. Something needs to give in order for me to add anything in.

 

Traditions:

 

One tradition I had with my mom was shopping after Christmas sales. I had intended to haul Skadi out with me after Christmas this year to shop. She likes to shop. But then I started looking at the store options here and figured I would hit Target for the stuff I actually needed and forego the actual going to the mall shopping mindlessly event. And she is a good shopper, but not THAT good yet. Not good enough for endurance shopping.

 

But then I started to miss shopping. And even moreso I started despising my clothes. And seeing big gaps in my uber tightly packed closet – go figure. I needed new clothes. The tradition that my mom and I had ate a hole into me that needs filled. I finally gave in and went online and shopped. New clothes!! Yay! I love winter clothes, but I really love winter clothes on sale…

 

So that is about it for my New Years celebration…

 

Spent it with my bickering kids, couldn’t have been better. A few goals for 2014, they aren’t resolutions. And some new clothes. Now back to the regularly scheduled 2014!

 

Oh - and Happy New Year!

Changes afoot

So a few weeks ago I delved into the work side and ended with the statement that things might be changing. I never want to count my chickens before they hatch and wasn't sure how things would go. I have seen others start down this path and have it end abruptly and I feared that.

I am happy with my job with the exception of one time a year - staff development reviews. They are hard. They are nearly never happy unless you are getting promoted (which is extremely rare) - but even then they find crap  you did wrong and harp on it. But especially the year after a promotion. Sucky. My SDR this year sucked. Ok, you talk to AB and he says, "that didn't read bad, it was fine". But I know better. I know those key words.

I was perplexed by a few statements "it is the job of the PM to maintain a cohesive team". Actually not really. That is, of course, a bonus. But the job of the PM is scope, schedule and budget and if one thinks I am not going to piss people off in that, well delusional. Cohesive team? It's a goal of course, but my job? Methinks one does not understand the role of the PM - and this was confirmed in my SDR when my management made the statement that they were still trying to understand the role of the PM.

One of the things that really bothered me was the statement that I was still - after a few years of a major blow up - having PI/PM issues. WTF? I believed it to be legacy. They denied it. I work the PI/PM model with only one other person on active projects presently and he and I get along amazingly well and I am constantly getting kudos from him. So he is either a complete liar or my management is making crap up.

An example was provided to skeptic me and it was VERY obvious which project they were referring to when they talked about an instance with one of my task leads. It's that project where *I* AM THE PI. So I would be having conflicts with my PM? Oh MYSELF! I just about imploded on the spot. This is "written in stone" in my record and to me is simply evidence that my management has no idea what I am doing and never read my contribution report to understand the roles on the 9 projects I am working.

Oh and going back to the cohesive team comment - the example was that a few of my presentations this year weren't as smooth as they could have been - you could tell that multiple people / team members had contributed to the presentation and they could have been smoothed a bit. Ok fine. I buy that. I have two task leaders with VERY different styles - one sends me quarterly slides with only pictures and five words (love him) and the other sends slides with no pictures, jam packed with words and hard to read tables (no love). I try to turn it into my own presentations without completely redoing their work. I know what they are talking about. But wait, wasn't this comment about cohesive teams in reference to my being a PM? Yes? Then why is the example from the project where *I* am the PI and [that other woman] is the PM. Shouldn't this be on HER SDR if this is a PM issue?

Silence.

"Well if you ever want to promote in this group you need to work on this."

Near implosion again.

I don't recall how we got on to the topic - maybe I mentioned that the group I am spending a lot of time working with was working on a turn around office for me. And then suddenly my management piped up, "have you thought about switching groups?"

Is this a trick question? What do I say? I admit truth, "yes, I have". I have for a few years. At first I thought about leaving my directorate in favor of another - but then their funding tanked and frankly I like my directorate a lot. Then I started working a lot with one of the sister groups.

We discussed some options - I stay in this group and have my office over there. I switch groups. They gave me the option of thinking about it and all I could think of was, "oh believe me, I have been thinking about this for a year". But I hadn't been ready to pull the trigger.

I pulled that dang trigger.

It was agreed that management would talk. I would speak with the other manager. She would talk to her staff and then our division director would provide a recommendation.

And the result of this few weeks of work came down yesterday. In the hallway, I ran into my current manager. Final in a day or so, I am leaving.

Hasta la vista!

The October Goal - Finished!

Ok, so it is nearly the end of November, but I am happy to exclaim that the October goal to paint a portion of the living room is done! Finished! Yay!

I am really, really happy with it.

I messed around with some brownish-tan colors. I wanted a shade darker than the "brown teepee" that we have settled on for the neutral throughout the first floor. But they all seemed icky and weird. Or not darker. I needed something that would go with the neutral but compliment the grey in the dining room (diagonal and not directly attached the living room), the remaining "white" in the living room/kitchen, the green in the foyer (that is growing on me - AB likes it - I was iffy for awhile). I didn't want to pull the grey into the living room, but that was starting to look like an option.

I finally went and bought some browns that were so way darker than everything else and then we had the difficult task of narrowing down the choice because we - surprisingly - liked them all.

So it is dark. It is chocolate-esque.

And I love it.

The area over the couch still needs something - it is a very large brown space. But that is the fun part! Getting to look for art on our future trips to fill in the space. I don't have a burning desire to fill it in now. I can wait - and I often do wait - until I find the PERFECT pieces for us.

Happy happy!

December Goal? Survive and make Christmas.

Note I found in Skadi's backpack

I don't think I got into writing notes until I was in junior high. But apparently that is the "in" thing in first grade now?

I found this one in Skadi's backpack from her friend, Rebecca.

"Water Princess - Rebecca
Snow Princess - Skadi

Snow melts into water. We are both a pice of snow. Snow is just frozen water. I am abull to turn into snow and ice. We have a different ability. We both can take care of penguins"

I personally loved the last line.

Guess who?

Leif.

Freaky, eh?

The Biggest Little City

When AB and I left Reno, I was sad. I went there a bit reluctantly... sad to leave Colorado, but happy to get away too. Going somewhere new. A long ways from family. With someone special to me - AB. I didn't expect to fall in love with Reno, but I did.

I was invited back to Reno to the University this fall when I was notified that Congratulations, I had been awarded the "Young Alumni of the Year" award for UNR. I immediately questioned whether they had the right person... they did say "young". And well I am 12 years out of my Ph.D. But apparently you are young if you graduated less than 15 years ago. They asked me if I would attend and I couldn't resist even though all I could envision was swollen boobs and pumping around the clock and my husband dealing with a baby for a few nights.

But how often are you awarded this type of award really? I had to go.

I booked my flight, booked my room at Circus Circus ($49/night special - can always count on the Circus) and it was on.

I arrived and wandered around the Circus Circus, Silver Legacy and Eldorado complex. I rode the Circus Circus train over to the tower where my (actually very nice) corner room was. While on the train two girls sat across from me. I asked them where they got their Starbucks, making a mental note for tomorrow. Then one of them eyed me and said it... "where are you from?" I suppose it was the tone. It wasn't "oh, where are YOU from?" It was "where are you FROM?" Like I had probably never been there before. Hard to explain. Anyways, I told them and added the caveat - "but I lived here for about 6 years in the late 90's.

It was like walking into a 12 year time warp. The big dome with the rig is still there. Only a lonely ghost hanging out for Halloween - no laser light show that I saw. If you haven't seen this, it is huge. Like 4-5 stories tall I think. Humongous.

The Bistro Roxy is still there - first martini bar I ever entered. And outside is the fabulous Bacchus statue. Same same.

The next morning I was up nice and early courtesy of the melons attached to my chest. I got up, gazed at my old stomping grounds... and went for a drive before meeting my graduate advisor (now the chair).


UNR viewed from my Circus Circus Room.

The Vietnamese restaurant across from Circus Circus that we used to frequent.

I drove up to our last apartment while in Reno. This is what I remember - a great view of downtown Reno. Our beautiful dog, Winny. And the balloons from the balloon festival flying overhead. Ah the days.

 

And now. Built up enough that I doubt there is a view from FF103 anymore. Did you ever hear the story of FF103 and F103? AB loves to tell this story. A tale for another day. I guess what really surprised me though was the foliage up there. You can see in the one above that Winny sat in front of sagebrush. Not anymore.

 

But there were the bad times. The upstairs neighbors at that place that still make me bristle. The management of the complex that spontaneously lost every noise complaint filed. Resulting in the one and only time I have had to mentally restrain myself from knocking the living shit out of someone.

We had previously had a great apartment in South Reno with wonderful walking paths nearby. But we wanted a dog - and they wouldn't let us have a dog. Sad. The second floor apartment here is our first Reno apartment. Where I hosted my first Thanksgiving dinner. Where we were sleeping when a 5.2 magnitude earthquake hit.

I drove over to our old walking/running path and called my advisor to see if he was ready to meet.

Reno from the South

 

So some things never change? Yep. My advisor still looks like he is 22. But even scarier... the lab. I could have walked out of there 3 weeks ago or 12 years ago. I used to sit in that chair. I put that chamber together. Even the same computers - my advisor lamented. See those drawers? That is my handwriting on every single one of those labels. Labeled and organized THEM ALL. Even the signs were the same. "CASEY GROUP" on the front door (blocking the looky loos)? Mine.



 

 

 We walked around the new buildings on campus and it appears that the University is doing quite well with the new buildings. But I got to learn about the other side of things. The state funding side from my former advisor. I learned that they have a wonderful piece of equipment that they can't even set up because they have no money to pay for the argon to run it. Sad. I fear for the future of my department.

So I suppose it shouldn't have been a surprise how that evening went at the Alumni recognition event. I was whisked in - I was a bit late because Reno has changed A LOT. I saw faculty from my department and was anxious to get over and stand with people I knew. I am not good with small talk. Though I have to admit I think I am getting better.

Nope. I was ushered past the people I knew and whisked up to the Dean, who shook my hand and shook my hand. Told where I would sit - with a large donor family (whose son was also being honored) and then *I* became the dog and pony show.

I met donor after donor and was (embarrasingly) lauded as a huge chemistry department success. I chose Nevada for grad school because I wanted a small department where I would have a good chance at success because I had absolutely no confidence I would succeed otherwise. I loved my time at UNR. I had a great class I entered with (about 50% graduating success I think) and I felt I left with an excellent education that spanned chemistry and physics.

I am an introvert. I am a woman. As I learned from the Lean In book, the fact that I shun recognition is probably more of a quality of being a typical woman. I looked around the table that night at the man (and his family) who was also being honored and he beamed at pride at every recognition while his wife made certain to remind everyone how MANY awards from the University he had achieved in the past few years. Really a smart and entreprenuerial guy actually. I kind of envied him. Actually I envied his self assuredness. I tried to sit up straight and stick my chest out like he did. Then I became increasingly aware of my swollen melons and worried they might rupture... when last did I pump anyways?

When the Dean read my list to the audience I know my face was beet red. And those at "my" table looked at me with jaws dropped. I wanted to make excuses - it was my teams. They deserve all the success. Not me.

Then I canned it. I went through hell for a few years with an extremely difficult team situation and strong personalities who wouldn't be sidelined. Until he was.

I freaking deserved this.

 

 

The latest

I have had a number of occasions lately where I have started blog posts - sometimes written them in full - and then never hit "publish". I haven't quite figured out why.

Life has been good lately. Really good. Sometimes too good to be true? Some concern I guess that as soon as I post something, the tide will turn? People will think I am bragging? I will think I am bragging?

I am not sure what it is really. Maybe if I get a post out of my system I will be able to move on. Not sure, but let's see if I can actually convince myself to hit publish this time.

So life is good. Work is good. For the most part.

I am in that phase after a successful project whereby I am receiving awards for receiving awards. I have management eyeing me with scrutiny... can she maintain the momentum? What can we nitpick so that she knows she isn't top of the hill? And politics. Egads politics. All the while I am trying to "Lean In", but actually feeling thwarted a fair bit... and by people who should know better.

So let's get the awards out of the way. I received a lab director's award for the national awards we received for the Navy work. I joked that I hoped it wouldn't confuse too many people that my award hanging in my office looks exactly like the one of the new lab fellows. Ok done. One award out of the way.

Next award. I received a Young Alumni award from my graduate university for my work. I have been planning a blog that goes more into this and about my visit back to Reno. My view for the first time of the state of things from my advisor's (now chair) perspective. My view of Reno after having been gone for 11.5 years (yes, I miss it). My view of being a "one woman dog and pony show" for an evening (gag). So second one, done.

See that wasn't too hard.

Next topic... Students. So part of the reason I got the award from the university is probably that my program wasn't high end. They turn out a good product. But I have laughed at times about how I occasionally have the opportunity to write letters of recommendation to institutions that I would have never even considered actually applying to! Well I have a new one. I have been receiving inquiries from students graduating from prestigious schools looking for jobs.

I had an entire post written about this and how it was driving me crazy. Not that I was getting my fragile ego stroked, but about how badly these students were doing this. It was a bit horrifying and the vast majority of students I have concluded that there is a reason that they are scraping the bottom of the barrel (i.e., me) in looking for a job. And you know what? They aren't getting one from me either.

Next topic... Annual Review. Not surprisingly my first year after promotion I managed to "achieve expectations". I don't care about the C rating. I heard you "always" get to achieve expectations after promotion. What killed me was some of the things that were written and then as the nature goes with privacy, everything is so vague. How am I supposed to change or improve if I can't have specifics on which team feels that I am not managing them... but only to find out after poking, prodding and digging that it is the team where I AM NOT EVEN THE PROJECT MANAGER.

Yes, makes sense. Or how about the one where I am taking over the technical side and not sticking on my side of the PM fence? UMM I AM CO-PI OF THAT PROJECT.

Every year I get more and more of an impression what a load of crap the annual reviews are. It honestly becomes hard to take them very seriously when they seem first, incredibly subjective and second, very ill informed. 99.5% of the year I love my job and know that I am doing a good job. But then that other 0.5% of the year is there to knock you down.

This year I made the decision that it is time for a change.

To be continued...

6 months, 3 children

So Silas is 7 months now. But I really did have him at the doctor's close to his 6 month birthday. And then I finally dug out Leif and Skadi's 6 month stats - because it appears I did not post that information here?

Anyways, the scoop is:

Silas:
Weight: 21 lbs 14 oz (95.65% because those sig figs are important...)
Length: 28" (88.66%)

Leif:
Weight: 19 lbs
Length: 26.25"

Skadi:
Weight: 21 lbs 14.5 oz (95%)
Length: 27.25" (81%)

On Oct 30, Silas popped his first tooth through! Early as compared to Leif.

He also seems to have strange anxiety. His doctor noted that this is a sign of high cognitive development when she walked in and he screamed at her and the nurse. I think he was just fussy and late for nap time...

Why Halloween?

Skadi: "I will tell you how Halloween came to be mom. See boys like scary stuff. And Jesus was a boy. And so they made Halloween to make Jesus happy. Ok?"

Me: "Actually..." (Launch into Day of the Dead...)

Skadi: "Ok mom, you are weird."

Goals Wrap Up September, October Plans

Well I wouldn’t say that I hit it out of the field this month on my goals. Maybe a base hit? Ah well, I am not a baseball fan, so I should really lose the baseball references.
 

The goal for September was to select quilt pattern (check!), select fabric (check!) and get started on Skadi’s quilt. And yes, I did get started on it. I cut a few squares out. I would have probably gotten more than a “few” squares cut out if I didn’t have a little helper bee who wanted to cut the squares herself for her own quilt. And well, yes, I have to allow her / encourage her to be crafty and learn to sew as my mom did with me. So I let her cut some squares out. But man is it scary watching your child with a rotary cutter in her hand.
 

And this was where I stopped.
 

I just have this fear of even pulling the fabric out that she becomes a moth to the flame and has an insatiable need to cut out her own fabric.
 

I have been thinking about how to handle this… and first in my mind is to give her some fabric to cut and make a quilt out of alongside me. But I know my daughter. It isn’t the need to make a quilt that is causing this obsessive behavior. It’s the rotary cutter. And I can’t really blame her – they are the epitome of cool tools for the quilter. I find tremendous pleasure in my very neatly ordered stacks of fabric with the precision achieved only by the use of a rotary cutter. Nope, scissors won’t work.
 

So what I need in order to advance on this goal is a day at home without my daughter. I might be able to get the quilt cut out then. Then I could just battle her over the sewing machine…
 

So onto October! Hello one of my most favorite of months! The time when the weather cools and I get to wear my warm clothes again, cook yummy foods, enjoy the sounds of football in the background (because it is completely impossible for me to sit my butt in a seat and watch a game… if they were only 30 minutes, maybe.)

 

 

I suddenly have a number of things to hang on the wall. We have a print we bought near Mt. St. Helens. I want to relocate a metal art. And I have stacks of framed photos I want to shift around. And my foyer, office and dining room have no more prime wall space. I need to prep another wall!
 

So I am thinking I need to go small scale for October given my crazy October schedule – a trip to Reno, swimming lessons, Leif’s football, an itty bitty (but very important) surgery my husband is having (and he may disagree with me saying it is itty bitty…), me speaking at a local University to a women’s group – ah, the list goes on. Oh and not to mention that quilt is still on my to do list.
 

So my goal is to scootch the piano and sectional away from the walls they are residing on and paint said walls. Then scootch the piano and sectional back and hang some stuff on those two walls. It would be perfect for our Mt. St. Helens picture and might just also work for the metal art. Framed photos? Yeah, well maybe if I get these two walls done then I will have some clarity with the rest of the room. Or maybe it isn’t clarity I need… just motivation? (And money.)
 

Catching Up

I need some mental blogging capability. Because I really do enjoy blogging and love the journaling aspect. I really love flipping back to old blogs for reference (how big exactly were the older two at this age?) and when my kids are older I want to share some of the crazy things they did and said. In order to keep doing this, I need to keep blogging. And since adding hours in the day hasn’t panned out, maybe blogging mentally would work? I think about what I want to blog about and it just happens... someday it will be real.
 

Anyways, new fiscal year, let’s get it caught up and started out right.
 

Skadi: “Mom, pinky promise me you won’t tell dad?”
 

Me: “Ok.” (Crossing fingers because I tell AB everything.)
 

Skadi: “I have a boyfriend!!” Then she jumps up and down and squeals like the little girl she is!
 

Me: “Really!!” (Thrilled that she is telling me this and hoping she will continue to tell me these things as she gets older.) “What’s his name?”
 

Skadi: (Blank stare) “I don’t know that.”
 

----
 

Me: "Didn't you find your sweatpants in the dryer yesterday?"

Leif: "Yes, but they probably aren't there now."

Me: "Oh yeah, because our house elves came."

Leif: (eyeroll)

Minutes later the dishwasher is acting up.

Me: "Hans guess what you get to fit in today among everything else?"

AB: "Ugh."

Skadi: "What about the house elves?"

 

---
 

Girl Scout Coordinator to Skadi: "Would you like to join Girl Scouts?"



Skadi: "No I just want to buy cookies."

 

---
 

Daycare floater: “I have to tell you, I just love when I get assigned to Infant A because I know I get to go in and have Silas smile and laugh with me for at least some portion of my day. He makes my day.”
 

Awww!
 

Guilt and butterflies

I am lucky - I don't tend to have much mommy guilt. I have friends who do. Who feel very guilty about working or being away from their kids, etc. There are days I wish I was home with the kids. But for the most part I relish the fact that I have a job I really enjoy (for now), brings me a lot of satisfaction, pays me a nice wage and allows me loads of flexibility to be there for the kids when I want. I am truly lucky. Mommy guilt? Not much here.

But I do feel guilty about one thing.

This:

It might look innocuous enough. My son telling me that I make his heart flutter and saying he loves me. Sweet huh? And brings me loads of guilt.

See it is traumatic enough that I haven't talked about it since it happened. A few days before Mother's Day.

AB says I should have known what was in it! It's obvious right? "Flutter" and in a paper bag, must open it right now and not wait 2 days till Mother's Day. Oh and that they raised butterflies from caterpillars in class.

Duh, right?

Well I missed all the warning signs.

It isn't that I don't like butterflies. I do. They are beautiful. It isn't that I don't like gifts. I love gifts, particularly thoughtful ones from my son. It isn't that I don't like surprises. Well I don't really, but that isn't really the point.

Every year we raise butterflies from caterpillars at home. Then we release them.

Awww! My chunky baby girl with her flame red hair! Wow, how time flies. Anyways...

Note that is AB's hand. He reaches in and pulls the butterflies out. The kids play with them and when the butterflies get tired, they fly off.

 

Note that *I* am not in any of these pictures.

I stand safely behind the camera at a distance of about 5-6 feet away from the crazy fluttering that may ensue.

Oh and we love the Pacific Science Center's butterfly pavillion!

And I step gingerly inside with the fear that something like this may happen to me. And I might scream some. And please, please, please don't let me slap at it.

It's a location I probably shouldn't even visit. Because I have to supress that desire to squeal a little and flick something off me should it land on me. And I would probably hurt something like this:

Or this:

And then I would feel awful and they would probably kick me out.

So back to that paper bag that I should have known what was in it.

The freaking butterfly flew into my face and I screamed. And I panicked.

And Leif tried to calm me down - "it's ok mom, it's just my butterfly".

And he probably said something about having raised it from a baby caterpillar all himself.

And I shoo'd it out the door and off he flew.

There.

That's my mommy guilt.

Leif tells me it's ok now. He was maybe a bit sad about it at the time, he says. But he is fine now. The butterfly got released into the wild (neighborhood) and that is a good thing. Maybe it will have babies now?

But my guilt remains. It was his Mother's Day gift to me and I freaked. I should not have freaked. I must reign in this fear of fluttery flying things. Must do it before my daughter enters 2nd grade and brings her paper bag Mother's Day gift home. Or at least by then I will remember and it will be obvious when she brings home a bag of a butterfly.

For a little bit there I despised his teacher. How could she not warn us that a fluttery flying thing was coming into the house? But she is such a nice lady, I couldn't blame her for long.

Nope, this is the mommy guilt that *I* carry.