Time keeps on slippin'...

I don't know how the time keeps slipping past me. Well, I take that back. I do know what happened last week. Last week I was in a funk.

My job is as a contingent faculty member in a wonderful department in a wonderful university. Seriously, I love what I do and where I do it. I work with a great bunch of people. However, I am on a one-year, non-renewing contract. I always know that April may roll around and my name not appear on the schedule.

Evidently some other people in my same position practice magical thinking and secretly believe that some how, some way, they will achieve the holy grail for masters-level faculty: lectureship.

Right.

One person was actually kind of lied to about the possibility of a lectureship. But you know what? She read the writing on the wall and got a real job.

Me? I continue to hold on, mostly because I like our insurance and I have kids at home. One is in ballet and piano and one is in therapy. Both of them keep me running.

But I digress. The reason that I am all in a funk is that our chair, in trying to make everyone understand why we will not be getting lectureships, somehow makes us seem like... well, unimportant. Replaceable. Interchangeable. (This is not completely his fault. The university has a policy that codifies that stance.)

So there it is. For the first time in a number of years, I am considering work outside of education. I am even considering an MBA. (Evidently math is not really a requirement.)

(I am also considering whether starving myself the rest of today can somehow manage to make my weight go back to last week's weigh in by my weigh in tomorrow. I consider lots of things.)

Time Machine in a Legal Pad

There is nothing quite like stumbling up on an old notebook. I have rarely used separate notebooks based on subjects or even projects. Instead, whatever is on my mind during a particular time seems to migrate itself onto the pages of the notebook (or legal pad) of the moment.


Take the one I found today. In its pages nestle a book idea, free writing from writing along with students, perhaps, or just killing time, notes about an extinct publication that I was once part of, email addresses of students long graduated, notes from articles that I read, notes from a class that I was taking and notes from a class that I teaching, a phone message, and notes from a presentation that I gave.

From the class notes, I would place this notebook in 2007. I was in my second semester of my PhD program in my first class with Stephanie, Hannah and Vince.

A Week Later

I've been actually tracking my food since I wrote last, and have lost another pound. Maybe Weight Watchers in my head is not as good as Weight Watchers in my computer.

I've survived the second week of the semester, and I survived session three of some professional development that I have been doing at the local high school. I am so glad that contract is almost done.

I've at least looked at my dissertation lately, which is something. I am hung up on figuring out how much sewing women actually did at home before paper patterns and sewing machines. I feel like it is important to have that bit of information. How else can I talk about the rhetorical construction of "work"? And how women's identity were defined? That seems to be important to me.

How does this happen?

How on earth does 8 months go by before I post?

I think that I am too busy living life right now to sit down and reflect. Work. Kids. PhD (ha!).

I should report that Weight Watchers Online has been a success. I've lost about 30 lbs, but then I've stalled. I wish that I could make myself get serious about it again. Fine. I'll go track yesterday's food.

Done.

See? I need more reflection in my life.

Now, of course, I need to eat (something healthy!) and go teach my last class.

Autism Awareness Day

Every day is autism awareness day at my house. My autism awareness is aided and abetted by my son, who has autism. He is 6'4" and weighs close to 300 lbs. He's hard to miss.

Turns out, autism (well Asperger's), is not the hardest thing about living with my son. I mean, we're kind of a quirky family, all in all. (They say that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all.)

But the past couple of years, I would say since 8th grade, the boy has been depressed. Severely depressed. Keep in mind, he has been seeing therapists on and off since 7th grade, now. I suggested, during a family session (because secretly, the therapist thought I was the crazy one), that W might be depressed. The therapist paused, and said, "I can see that" and spoke to the psychiatrist about Celexa. (Really? What was I driving to Little Rock and paying that man for, anyway?) The Celexa helped. For a while.

Fast forward to last year. W is going into 10th grade. We ended up having to get the courts involved because he was knocking holes in the walls and occasionally striking myself or the girls. He was completely out of control.

We found a new therapist, through a tip from the wife of a former student of mine who is a psychiatric resident in another state. The therapist is very behavior-focused which is wonderful.

With the new therapist came a new psychiatrist, who played with the dosages a bit.

That went on for a few months. In January, though, W became suicidal, and got a few days at Methodist, where they changed is anti-depressant and took him completely off of stimulant medication. He's on Wellbutrin and Abilify. There is night and day difference. Suddenly, the suggestions that his therapist made are working, and he is back to being a wonderful kid. Now, he is still a teenager. Still a bit socially awkward. Still a bit lazy. And disorganized. We've been using Flylady to help with the organization.  And Parenting With Love And Logic to help with general parenting. But now the programs are helping.

Mostly just a ramble

Today, I got my hair cut, which was long overdue. Now if I could just get motivated to color it, I'd be in business.

My current project is rehabbing a couple of American Girl Kirstens that I bought on eBay. One of them, I knew was a Kirsten. She even had her "meet" dress. But some darling child had styled her hair in what can only be called dreadlocks. Her hair is dried out and in really terrible shape. The other one came in modern jeans, tennis shoes, and a jacket. It was billed as a "Just Like You" doll, which is one of the modern ones that have a variety of eye and hair colors to match the girl they are intended for. But she is also a Kirsten. And her hair is in much better shape. Mea and I have washed it, sprayed it with vinyl restorer and will probably get her ready to sell on eBay next week. I am hoping for a nice return on her, since Kirsten dolls are retired. The other one? I don't know. Her hair is soaking in Downy right now, which is really a "last resort" kind of treatment for doll hair. If it works, I probably sell her, too. I could sell her anyway. I saw a doll listed for "parts" sell for more than either of these did.

An old friend came over last night. He is grad school, so he had spring break, too, and spent at least part of the week with his family, who live about a half-hour away. Yesterday, though, he came to visit his friends here in town. It was so nice to see him and just visit. :)

Really, that is all that is going on. Oh, except my daughter's boyfriend broke up with her yesterday. Really, how is that to top off the week she's had?

Spring Break, Part II

First thing, Wednesday morning, Mea got a phone call from her friend, R. R had called to tell her that two of their friends, who were brothers, had been in a wreck. The younger brother, Jacob, was dead, and the older one was in the hospital. As the day went on, it became apparent that the older brother, Keith, wasn't going to make it, either. He passed away Wednesday afternoon.

Mea has not really lost anyone to death, other than her grandmother. But her death was hardly a surprise. Mamaw had brain cancer, so we all knew that it was coming. At the end, she couldn't even talk, which hurt her and hurt us to watch.

The death of these two young men, though, was unexpected. They were young. They never got into any trouble. They didn't drink or even dance. They were what we all hope are children turn out to be. Their lives ended so unexpectedly and so quickly-- they were just out running around on the back roads. Keith was driving with one of his college friends in the front, while Jacob and another friend were riding in the back. (I cannot tell you how many times I've ridden in the back of a pickup.) Keith lost control of the pickup and it rolled several times.

And they died. On Tuesday they were here and yesterday they were gone.

Two of my colleagues had Keith in their comp classes this year. By their accounts, he was a smart, dedicated, hard-working kid. He was acting in a film that one of my friends is making for her thesis.

He leaves a hole in our college, our town, his church, and in the lives of his friends.

Jacob, Mea says, is a "great big puppy dog." A "Labrador retriever" she says. Always upbeat, kind, sweet. He was in band and his locker was near Mea's.

The funeral is Monday-- after school. School on Monday, though, will feel hollow.

I doubt Tuesday will be much better.

Spring Break, Part I

This week has been a busy one. Mea and I went to Norman, Oklahoma to visit the University of Oklahoma. We left Sunday night, and came back Monday night. I have to say, I've been on a few campus tours, and OU knows how do a tour.

Tuesday morning, we got up and drove to Kansas City to see my husband's mother, Mabel, who is in a nursing home there. She has Parkinson's disease and Alzheimer's. My sister in law, L, manages her care, and spends a lot of time at the facility. She also pays a couple of women to come in a stay with Mabel. Mabel, however, is difficult to be with. She is agitated, and really doesn't know why.

She's just moved to a new unit, the Memory Care unit, on Monday because she needed more oversight than she was getting in assisted living. She's not adjusting terribly well to the new unit. She wants to get up and walk, she wants to be wheeled to different places.

On Wednesday, Todd spend the day with his mother and gave L a break. She got to go home and spend some time at her home, which was nice. Todd, however, had a pretty miserable time of it. His mother has always lacked tact, and losing the controls that helped her keep her quiet has only added to her bluntness. Several times, she asked Todd when his sister was coming back. She also asked when his wife was coming to pick him up.

I can't say either of them enjoyed the visit, but L enjoyed having a break, as well as having someone understand what she goes through. Every.Single.Day.