My mom worked at Harvard for over 6 years and all I got was this lousy t-shirt

Yeah, I'm just gonna go there for a little bit. Indulge me in a few moments of bitterness.

Yesterday was my last day at Harvard before maternity leave. I started working there in early August of 2003 and in the history of the position of Choral Administrator, I have been the person in that position who has stayed the longest. I invested a lot in the job, working to overhaul the image of the program, generate marketing materials that were unified, create a website where prospective singers could gain information, simplify procedures, streamline budgeting, advocate relationships between alumni foundations and students, be an ear and a shoulder for new student management and help out with whatever I could.

In the normal world, I would think that might result in someone saying, "hey, you've been here a long time and done a lot and now you have a major life event coming up fast. Let us celebrate you in some way." But, I don't work in the normal world.

Even the process of finding my replacement was a mess. Essentially no one did anything until late summer and at that point, options were limited. The two people they offered it to fell through, one due to housing the other due to the lack of pay (amen, folks). So, who did they get but the former manager of the Glee Club who was horrible to work with when he was a student. I kept reminding myself that I don't have to work with him, but it was admittedly hard to think of all the work I've done over the years unraveling because you know this kid ain't gonna give a shit about any of it. Throughout the time of trying to get him in to be trained the feedback I got repeatedly from those around me was, "well, I just don't want him calling me with questions." Right, because the woman who just gave birth should be repeatedly bothered at home to get answers others who are on campus should provide? Thank goodness for caller ID...

As I mentioned earlier my boss emailed me at the beginning of the week to ask when my last day was, never having bothered to note it or, god forbid, actually plan something for me. This is the same person who never acknowledged my wedding in any way, so that it would even cross my mind to think he might care about the baby is a bit ludicrous, but I think somewhere I still hoped. I have worked with the staff at Office for the Arts for 5 of the 6 years and forged some relationships there too. People are always grateful for my organization, my ability to manage the boss and willingness to help, so it feels crappy that no one there did anything either.

What I did get came from Kevin, my co-worker, who needed to meet up with me so he could become a co-signer on the account we hold at the Credit Union. He brought me a little Harvard t-shirt for the baby. It was very nice of him to think of doing something, but just sort of augmented the blasting silence of everyone else around me.

So, it is over and done with and I'm hoping to go over to campus to pick up the remainder of my music and the blankets I brought when I taught yoga and move them home for now. Mentally it will take me a while to process that I'm not having to go to the basement every day and maybe a little longer to really view the truth about how little I was valued in that job.

Clomp, clomp, I'm down off my box now and will quit my whining.

11 year olds eating at Hooters. Really?

I probably should let this turn over in my brain for a bit before blogging about it, but I listened to the story on NPR today and have since read the man's blog who took his 11 year old son to Hooters for lunch. The title of his post might say it all: "My 11 year old son's first trip to Hooters" - the implication seems to be he knows there will be more. Maybe with him, maybe on the kid's own.

On NPR it sounded like the dad did it as a way of addressing the objectification of women in society. That sounded like a weak argument to me. You don't need to go to Hooters to find that. Just walk into the checkout aisle at the grocery store and look at the cover of Cosmo. Go to the movies and see how actresses are dressed and promoted. Look at any advertising on TV and see how sex is used to sell everything with one standard for women and another for men.

When I read the blog it sounds more like he and a friend just decided to take their sons to Hooters for lunch and the prospect of seeing how their kids reacted to women who were scantily clad was a secondary idea (perhaps a justification?), contemplated as he blogged. He says in his post that there were many families dining at Hooters....as though that would make his choice more okay.

I have to say I disagree with taking your pre-pubescent child to a place like Hooters. Well, bottom line is I disagree with the existence of a place like Hooters. A visit to their website confirms my thoughts. On first pass the largest text on the home page says "Making buns look good for years." Going back to the homepage it says "Hooters, more than a mouthful," with a young woman with large boobs in a little Hooters uniform, proclaiming perkily, "Wow, I've never seen anything that big before". Ahhh, the not so subtle double entendre. It seems as though Hooters fundamentally contributes to the objectification of women and promotion of sex selling anything and everything, including hamburgers. We don't even need to go to the discussion of what the food is probably like nutritionally.

You might remember an earlier post I wrote about people who don't teach their kids the right names for their genitalia. I don't mean this post to contradict that at all. I just don't think the emotional maturity of an 11 year old is going to lend itself to a productive conversation about the ramifications of women working at a place like Hooters. What's next? Going to a strip club with your 15 year old and saying you're doing it so he won't be tempted to get a fake ID and try to get in?

I do agree with the blogger that sex is hard wired into DNA. Denying it doesn't do anyone any good, but how about demonstrating to your son in the way you treat your wife and female co-workers respectfully or using teach-able moments in real life to communicate that objectifying women is wrong? Why not talk with him about loving someone when you choose to be sexual with them (seems age appropriate for 11) and empowering him with information about how babies are made and how to prevent them when you are ready. In fact, you could begin that education when he is a young child and asks where he came from. Why approach it by helping to perpetuate objectification by supporting a place that has women parade around in tight fitting uniforms that emphasize their physical being?

Ben's Birthday

Here are a few photos from Ben's birthday celebration last weekend. Ariana was rockin' a new do with her hair and enjoying full body contact with her piece of chocolate cake. I just love that girl...

You how it is when you just don't need one more thing to do?

And of course, there is suddenly one more thing to do? This week is busy, though it is nearly the end. I've realized there are some things I would like to get done, along with those that must be done before the baby. So, this afternoon, I'm getting my haircut. Tomorrow afternoon I'm meeting with the pediatrician to be sure he's the one we want. Thursday afternoon I have my midwives check up. Friday afternoon I'm going to acupuncture so we can continue the 'move towards labor' stuff and work on relieving my back pain and improving my mood. Oh, and we had to take Ben's car in last night because it has suddenly started forming Lake Ontario behind the passenger seat whenever it rains and maybe it will be fixed today which will mean a trip right during the dinner hour (read: rush hour traffic) to pick it up, thus delaying dinner and pushing me close to a breakdown due to lack of food.

Each day, those activities mean I need to leave work right on time to catch the bus and get back home to get my car and head out to wherever I need to be.

Then, this morning, at 3am, I wake up and my eye hurts. I try to open it and find it glued together with ick. After stumbling into the bathroom, turning on the light and blinding myself, I finally am able to see enough out of my other eye to determine that there is copious redness, some swelling and a major amount of goop.

Great, an eye infection is sooooo just what I need right now. So, I dutifully call my primary care who can see me at noon today. But, that necessitates getting to their offices and back to campus in time to teach at 1. It is do-able as it is less than 2 miles away, but it is also amazing how much time that can take when dealing with both public transport and doctors who notoriously run behind.

So not what I needed to try and factor in to life today, but here it is, so I'm trying to deal and not just lose my poop over it.

And P.S. I'm now back from the doctor, but when I went to leave and walk into the bus station....they've closed it at that entrance due to filming a movie....arrrggghhh. I gave them a withering look that they'd make a 9 months pregnant woman walk to another entrance!!!

Contemplating a Move

So, the time has nearly come for me to leave the basement. As a symbolic way to reflect my move above ground, I am thinking it might also be time for a new blog, yet to be named, that reflects the transition. No longer will I be writing from the basement, but likely from the comfy, sunny, spot at the dining room table, where the cat will inevitably be lounging next to me (I fail to shoo her off because I have accepted that she walks where she wants when we aren't around, why not let her do it when we are...) and the baby nestled quietly in her bouncy seat (one can dream right? Of course it might be a choice of cat or baby, as the cries of the newborn may send the cat into permanent residence in the basement).

I am ready to embrace this part of the change. It is not lost on me that just this day my boss emailed me to ask when my last day was. Well, let's see, I told you back in April that it was October 23...could you have written that down somewhere, or maybe just committed it to memory, or maybe demonstrated some interest in what's going on here, or asked me, even once, this fall how I'm doing, or could I use any help with anything, or assistance in getting ready to leave? Of course you couldn't because you are a self involved, self righteous ass. It is somewhat amazing to me, and probably more so to others that I've made it to my seventh year working for him. Really, that has happened because he sits in another building and I see him, on average, once a semester. We last saw each other the last Saturday in August at a meeting (yes, we had a meeting on a Saturday because what we do is oh so important that we all had to give up weekend time to be on campus...)

Wow, this post rapidly devolved into my feelings about the person I've worked for, rather than the fun of contemplating a new blog. Back to matters at hand. I'm going to mull over catchy titles and I'll let ya'll know when I've come up with something...

So there are day care centers and then there are day care centers.

Today was visit two to another (and, in fact, only other) day care center near our house. After my first visit a week ago to Another Place to Grow, I felt pretty depressed. 7 infants in cribs in a room with two 20-somethings just made me feel bad. It smelled like diapers and the staff was just sorta doing their job, but nothing extraordinary. To give them a fair shake, it was nap time when I was there in the infant room, so only one kid was up, but the care provider who had him in her lap was more interested in talking to her co-worker than with him. Maybe it is a different environment when everyone is up and rolling.

For the record, we aren't sure yet what we are doing about day care, but wait lists are long and it doesn't hurt to be on them. There is a possibility that Ben has some flexibility in his schedule to maybe be home while I work. Both grandmas are possible options for partial days as well and I could do some teaching on the weekends. In any event, I feel a lot of pressure to be both a mom and a person who is intelligent and has something to contribute to the professional world and want to do both without giving anything up. Well, that ain't gonna happen. I know that much...

Anyway, today I visited with Arlington Infant and Toddler Center. We'd had a recommendation from a friend for this place so I was intrigued to see it to contrast last week's visit. Here there was a staff that was engaged with every child. Even though the kids were 3-10 months old, they spoke in complete sentences to them, hugged them, engaged with them and played. Nap times are done on the child's schedule, not everyone herded at once into the crib room. The director knows all the kids names and while it made my visit over an hour long, she stopped to talk with the little ones throughout the center, calling them by name, asking them questions and pointing things out. She showed me every single classroom and the staff all introduced themselves without prompting. She shared her educational philosophy about the importance of teaching the kids to talk, to problem solve and to engage as citizens in the world - they do field trips to nursing homes, the fire station, the post office etc. It doesn't hurt that the person who recommended me happens to work for YoYo Ma and when I mentioned I knew Cecelia's mom, the owner just said, "oh, so you must know YoYo as well. His kids went here and we just love him." I told her I'd met him at a few Harvard events, but he certainly wouldn't know me from Adam.

What I found interesting was not only did I think that I'd feel far better about taking my 3 month old to this place, but I found myself wanting to work for her. The energy and passion she has for what she does is so evident. She's been at the center for 27 years and her staff has good retention as well. I found myself thinking, hmmm, it could be fun to get certified in something like kindermusik and do that and yoga with kids while my own are little....

There's one more place that is in another part of town, but we'll go to the open house and then maybe investigate some home day care centers and before you know it, have to make a decision.

Guess we haven't come that far after all

Our home is now largely populated with things from Fisher Price and Graco. This morning I noticed how these items are marketed to women only.

On the Graco Stroller box it says, " Ask moms who know." I get that 'know' rhymes with Graco, but couldn't they say, "Ask moms and dads who know"?

Also, on the Fisher Price box for the bouncy seat it says, "Good for baby. Good for mom." Really? Only mom? I think the bouncy seat will also be good for dad when he's here with the baby, or when we're both here with the baby.

Alas. I guess we really are still in a place where the prevalent message from society is that only women take care of children and men buzz in at the end of the day to finish up story time and tuck 'em in. Makes me grateful that I have a husband who is very interested in arranging his schedule to be home to do some of the childcare providing while I'll be working.