Well, every couple of years or so, Jon gets a new job. This happens because after the first year at any given new job is completed, suddenly the shit hits the fan.
At Pall, it was because the guy who hired him in was basically just using him to get his own promotion ("Look! I got a Ph.D working under me!") and once the promotion was attained, he regarded Jon as more of a threat. Made things highly unpleasant for Jon, so he found another job.
At NT2 (biotech startup), it went swimmingly for a bit over a year; then the guy who owned/ran the company missed a couple of grant application deadlines for funding the company's research, and pfft, the company had to fold. This was a month before our accident. Good times, good times.
So here we are. Jon has finished his first year as a prof. at YSU.
POOF! Now they're on strike -- the faculty, I mean. The rest of the employees (clerical, technical, non-academic professionals, maintenance, etc.) have been on strike for a week now. So for the moment, we're without health insurance (until COBRA kicks in, if the strike goes on for more than a week), the term is supposed to start a week from today, and it's total chaos. Jon, not knowing if the strike will last a day, a week, or the entire semester, is still working frantically to get his lectures written and the materials assembled for his class. The research he was starting is now impossible to do, because he is not going to cross the picket line. He needs to get a couple of papers published and one more grant application submitted in order for tenure to happen. OK, he has somewhere between 4 to 6 years to accomplish this, but still.
WHEN? THE? FUCK? WILL? WE? EVER? JUST? GET? TO? LIVE? OUR? LIVES? WITHOUT? ALL? KINDS? OF? SHIT? FLYING? STRAIGHT? AT? US??????????
I'm a tad frustrated.
The back-to-school stuff is really bringing up a lot of grief things for me. That's no fun, either.
I read an article that pretty much caused me to shit my pants, hyperventilate, and make a few tin-foil hats to wear just in case: http://www.rollingstone.com/news/story/_/id/7203633?rnd=1121636006239&has-player=unknown Don't say I didn't warn you. I've calmed down a bit, but the overall effect (apart from getting us to think more concretely and less theoretically about conservation and money management in our own lives) was to make me feel even more depressed than ever -- like there really is nothing to look forward to.
And finally, I am being driven mad by my inability to cope with perfectly normal, fairly manageable three-year-old behavior on Emily's part. I know it's not her -- it is most definitely me. I am at the point where I just don't think I can even be a parent, sometimes. I just don't know how to get myself to calm down, go with the flow, and just enjoy this stage. Maybe I'm missing Hannah and unconsciously angry because Emily is not Hannah? I don't know. I don't think I even want to face that one.
I'm hoping that once she starts school (9 more days!!!!) and we get settled into more of a daily routine, in which she gets the interaction with other children that she craves so desperately, it all might settle down. Maybe we're just sick of each other and burned out after a long, and decidedly stressful summer.
I love her so much I can't begin to describe it. You mothers out there know what I mean, but it's just impossible to explain. Maybe that is why I get SO frustrated with her -- if I didn't care, stuff wouldn't bother me so much. I want nothing more than to just be happy and content with her and let her just be what and who she is, and not get so fucking anal about her table manners and whether she cooperates instantly or not. She's THREE, not five, or eighteen, or thirty. Why can't I just accept it? She is NOT going to be this way forever -- it's a matter of days before school starts and she will grow even faster than she already is, through learning so many new things.
I am expecting far too much, and she is doing absolutely admirably under the circumstances. I can't take her anywhere without someone commenting to me on how good her behavior is, how well she interacts with people and how charming she is. (Yes, I'm gloating, but the fact is I hear this ALL THE TIME from all kinds of people who see her out in public.) I know that kids generally behave better out in the world, or with other people, than with parents. Even with Hannah, I sometimes wondered if her teachers, and her friends' parents, were talking about MY child -- she was a great, sweet kid, but she definitely pressed my buttons on a fairly regular basis.
I know that I struggled with Hannah at this age, too. I've discussed it here before -- that long, hot summer-before-preschool. No longer a baby, dying to get out and experience stuff, wanting to do everything herself, and yet still so needy, so vulnerable -- it's rough on both of us. I think it's not unlike what middle-school-aged kids and their parents contend with, although the clothes, music and hairstyles are not nearly as cute.
Maybe it's just that I miss Hannah so much -- and the way she was when she left us. Five years old, going to school, so much more independent, having a social life of her own, old enough to be a genuine help with some things, past the toddler stage. I think on some level I'm expecting Emily to behave like this, and she absolutely cannot do it yet. It is simply impossible -- physiologically and otherwise.
And I need to also stop and realize that a year ago at this time, I would have KILLED for her to start behaving even just the way she is now -- able to eat in restaurants with us and actually have it be FUN; not clinging to my leg every time I left the room to empty the dishwasher or take a shit or get some coffee or something; talking so much and so clearly; able to go to stores (mostly) without having her run around trying to grab everything off the shelf and rearrange it on the floor; able to play independently (well, sometimes).
There is also the fact that I am still (VERY reluctantly) nursing her for a few minutes at bedtime, as part of the routine. We have had so many talks about how big kids who go to school don't nurse. No pressure, but just discussion. We g0 down the (long) list of friends she has and none of them nurse any more. We talk about how we can cuddle and read stories and do other things at bedtime. But, she is just not ready to completely give it up, and I'm not sure how far I want to push her right before starting school -- it's a big transition and I think as excited as she seems about it, she's also a bit nervous and apprehensive. Not to mention that I'm sure the tension of the last month -- ILs visit, Zoe's surgery, our concern about the strike/job stuff, a bit of travel -- has had its effect too.
But I think the nursing is part of why I'm feeling so burned-out and resentful. Even if it's only a couple of minutes at night, it's EVERY. NIGHT. and I don't know if she'll go to sleep without it, and I don't want to either make her miserable by not being there, or gut it out and then have her wake up constantly at night because she's upset. I'm so ready to quit this, but I'm too much of a wuss to do what it takes to transition her away from this.
Hannah self-weaned right after she turned 2, when we moved to MI -- she was only nursing at bedtime from about 18 months anyway, and was able to go to sleep without it anyway, like if I was out with friends or something. Around the time we moved she was only doing it once every other day or even less; finally three or four days went by without; I asked her one night if she wanted to, and she just said "No", and that was that.
Well, Emily did kind of self-potty-train, so maybe that means that I just got one freebie per child.
Maybe I'm just in worse shape emotionally than I let myself feel. I do know I suppress a lot, or kind of sublimate it into a more cerebral, cognitive channel. I'm so afraid to actually FEEL my grief. But I think it's my main problem in coping right now. I honestly do not know how to get beyond this and just deal with it and start healing.
Well, guess that's why I have a therapist.
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