Autumn is on its way

,
This is a strange concept for me, that it could start to get cold in late August. That decade, plus, in Tucson completely reset my internal sense of seasons. It should be over 100 F from May through October, as far as my body is concerned.

Mix this with a healthy dose of already being acclimated to cool-ish summer temperatures in a country where air conditioning in residences is rare, and I can't wait for this week's 90 F and sunny to end at the same time as I am horrified by the forecast for rain and 65 F by weekend. I think I may only like 73.5 F and partly cloudy for weeks on end right now.

Anyway, the windows and curtains and metal shutters are all closed throughout the apartment since 10:30am this morning, in hopes that the heat won't make it in the rooms very far by the time we get home from the river, and then they'll open briefly until dusk, close again for mosquito feeding hour, which is also known as "Let's go eat M to a pulp" and the night.

A's water toys are packed, as are her swim diapers, and some snacks, for our almost daily trip to the river. The water is a glorious 77 F, and clear greenish-blue. The current isn't too fast, but it makes you feel like you're swimming in something thicker than water, half-set jello according to my friend I. There are shade trees and toddlers and everything you need to spend 4-5 hours escaping the heat.

I've stopped taking many photos recently, somehow there is just too much life to live and not enough time to even take out the iPhone, so let me finish with a few scenes from our trip a few weeks ago to Milan. Fish, street art (commissioned and not), and design were big themes on this trip.







We stayed in yet another AirBnb great find, an apartment where the owners had twins, so we had everything we needed for the stay - didn't even bring a stroller. Which is the height of travel-with-toddler ease, let me tell you. And the apartment was near the biggest green space in the city, with four off-leash dog parks for the dog (who came with), something she hasn't seen since we moved to Zurich. They don't do dog parks here. We followed most of the latest NYTimes "36 Hours in Milan" guide, which provided equal parts great food and gelato, and design museums and other such destinations. All who went had a great time. Ok, except maybe the rental car that got us there and back and got hit in the lot it sat in the whole rest of the time. In true name-your-favorite-stereotype fashion, the lot attendant had no idea how that could have happened, even though we had left it parked for him in the middle of the crowded lot and it was parked in a space when we picked it up.

I'm not 5 minutes late

Turns out, I was 6 days 23 hours and 55 minutes early for the meeting. And had just made the 30 minutes trip into town. Well, ok, the 35 minutes trip, which I keep rounding off to 30 minutes, which is why I keep being late.

Late, then early, then without my wallet which means I couldn't fit in some 2nd hand baby clothes shopping of grocery store stop to try and salvage my trip. Because, of course, time cannot be wasted. Which is the true point of an iPhone. You can be productive, or at least active (I'm rarely that productive unless I'm using the Hipstamatic app) at all times. If you have your phone with you, and today I did have at least that.

So let's just ay that the pupper got to practice relaxing in her crate for an hour, I got to window shop and put some shoes and pants on hold for A, and then I scanned the comments on a friend's Facebook request for books to read. Just so happens, I also had my Kindle with me, so I used some 5 minutes downloading samples of books that people recommended to her.

Whew. Thank goodness I had all my technology with me, or I might have been a rotting, smelly, worthless drain on all that is important about humanity.

Now I'm home, I've fielded a work call, and I've taken off my boots and socks to let my toes drink in the gloriously warm, sunny day that our balcony finally has access to. Our sun shade was stuck in the open position for the last 2 months, and when the motor was finally replaced last week, you could almost hear the plants screaming "Gah!! What IS that?! I thought we lived in Seatlle?!" The zucchini plant seemed to shudder and realize that it might just have to overproduce some squash for us after all.

Whiny voices are on my mind this morning. A is a bit sick, which meant she was restless last night and that M and I got less sleep than we could have used. And this morning I, being the master of appropriate timing, thought I should stop responding to her whiny reactions. While she's sick. M gently mentioned it might not be the best time. I gently, inwardly, agreed and proceeded to keep asking A what she wanted, to tell me in words. Time to go digging in the child rearing books again for some suggestions on how to do this consistently and nicely. I have to say, that after letting A cry a bit when I didn't try guessing what blue thing (that was not in sight) she wanted, holding her, telling her I'd like to know what she wanted, letting her have some space, not letting her hit me, though,....she finally piped up in her tiny voice...."nuggi." Pacifier.

I jumped to my feet, A in arms, smiling, and said "You bet! Let's go find it. I'd love to find it. I really just wanted to know what you wanted!" and we went in search. So, she can do it. And when I have patience, I can encourage her to do it. And it may take 5 minutes of tantrum, but if it leads to a verbal request, I am so there for her.

Now if I can just get her to wear a bib and sit a bit longer at the table......

Other people's sad

I'm still thinking about the encounter with the neighbor moving out. It hits a particular part of my personality, the one where I think (1) I should somehow share in another person's sadness, (2) that I can handle it better than they can and so (3) by sharing it I can take some of it away. Okay, now that I've written that poorly worded sentence, there is a sense in which I think it is true. That sharing sadness helps others. But my brain takes is a little (too) farther, in thinking I can take on the person's sadness for them.

I've felt this about a lot of adults in my life, especially when I was younger - that I could bear their sadness more easily than they could. Really? Seriously? That's one I need to practice not believing. As if my own life doesn't have its own sadnesses for me to deal with. I somehow forget all that I've been through with A and living in a new place and M and the dog and my depression, and think that somehow I should have had time and energy for this other person, while I was busy trying to keep myself above water. Or for this other person's sad. To take it on on top of my own.

And it leads to a nasty side-effect, that I am uncomfortable sitting with someone, in silence, and just being there, letting them have their sadness. Or, at least, I'm not good at doing that. And in the end, that is what I regret most about Tuesday morning with the neighbor. I quickly jumped in when she said she was going to a home, that it might be easier, to have all that help. And she agreed. Because, as her daughters told me later, she's a brave woman. But I wish what I had been able to do for her, and which I was able to do with her daughters later, was to ask how she felt about the move. And to let her tell me.

Because not broaching a topic, that both people in a conversation kind of know the answer to, doesn't make it disappear, or become a non-issue. It is still there. That sadness, the nervousness about a new place after living here 30 years (also learned from her daughters). All the ways I might have actually made the connection I was so regretting having missed with her, had I just listened, and asked, and not pretended that all was okay so we could smile together.

I can't take on another person's sadness. But I can just sit and listen and let them be sad.

(Note: I realize this neighbor might not have been all that sad, but I've mixed together two topics here - my lost opportunity to connect with her and my tendency to want to take on other people's sadness).

I do, however, need to learn more about how to do that last part with boundaries. Because part of the difficulty I have is that I drown in other people's sadness. It overtakes me, again, maybe because I think (mistakenly) that if I can just feel sad enough for them, they won't have to? I'm not sure, but it makes me very cautious about interactions with people who are sad. That said, not everyone, but some people, who have a lot of sad, constantly, in their lives. Or who feel and project a lot of it. It overwhelms me to the point I feel like I can't breathe. And that just doesn't work, now does it?

Lots and lots of rich, lush, glorious photos...and I have no idea how to make paragraphs that match photos!

Time for some photos. Of Mallorca, which, outside the city of Palma, and near the lovely town of Pollenca, was really relaxing and family friendly. We rented a house, for me, A, her aunt L, and her Bobute (my mom). We rented a car. There was a pool, visiting cats, nearby miniature horses to visit every day, country quiet and stars at night, and a 10 min ride to the town.
M had a conference in the US, so it was three women vs. one very excited and attracted to water Beibis (that's A). It was an even match. First order of business on the trip was to change into a newly arrived purple pajama and check about size restrictions for overhead luggage. Luckily, I think A forgot about the overhead thing once we'd boarded the plane so I didn't have to forbid her from riding in the bin.

A week with very few toys, and no playgrounds. And it went...just fine.
Each morning, no matter if she got to bed at 8:30pm or 11pm, A woke up at 7:30am. Ungh. We'd climb out of our beds, wander into the kitchen, open all the windows, put on some coffee, grab a yogurt from the fridge and head into the backyard. The baby chair wasn't all that stable against a pushy, flicky leg toddler, but we had some great conversations about what exactly was the table (where feet are not allowed) and what was the chair (where, on the usual parental, last-second decision in favor of peace and a chance in hell of actually making some coffee, I decided was ok).


Seafood was on many menus. It was all over this restaurant's menu, in fact. Monkfish, lobster, cuttlefish (sorry smart animal I didn't really like the taste of!), fish, more fish, clams, and fish.



The streets of many towns in the Northwest part of the island were preparing for a festival, and thin strips of flags fluttered above many of them.
There was a jacuzzi with the pool. Not a hot tub, really, since the water wasn't heated. But a great place, 5 feet above the pool level, to try escaping from.
We spent the whole day at this cove. With a rented beach umbrella space and chairs, snorkelling, swimming, eating, napping, and sifting through all sorts of shells, sea glass and rocks.

Ah, the pool.
Someone had a great time running around and around and around the post box near the placa where we were having dinner. Enclosed public spaces, where parents can sit and eat, and kids can run around, were one of the things that made this trip so toddler friendly.

Aunt L and A skip down the streets of Alcudia, new bags in hand. Or, arm.

The neighbor I wish I'd gotten to know

I was lying down for a 45 min nap, just after M and A had gone off to school, and the bell rang. Crap. Was the cleaning lady here super early? Dog walker? No, he doesn't have the house key and the ring was from our apartment door. There was our neighbor, a sweet woman of about 85 or 90, who lost her husband some 5 months ago, saying "Goodbye" and that she is moving to an assisted living facility, where she won't have to cook and clean by herself anymore. She speaks good English, she gave us a pajama present when A was born, she broke her hip and has been walking more and better every day with physical therapists. I think she and her husband lived in Canada and in Singapore for some time. I have always been meaning to invite her for a tea or coffee, to hear her stories, to ask about her life. And then it always seems I'm rushing, to get some work or errands in, and if A is around, she is sick. And I've been scared to pass that on to a woman who doesn't need a cold or chest infection, and for sure not the flu's we've had.

But I feel sad. Like I let her down. There goes my feeling that I am supposed to make others happier. I feel sad that we didn't have a coffee together once a week, just for a little chat. What could I have learned from her? What could I have given?

Sigh. No more napping. The weight of the missed opportunity, especially with a woman who reminds me of my late godmother, is too big. It is a rainy, warm day, and I guess I'll just be sad. And remind myself that I also romanticize other people's hardships. They must be sad, or needing my help, it must be tragic. But that isn't necessarily the case. She has children and grandchildren. She had visitors. I wouldn't have filled in for a lost husband or made her younger.

I just wish it was a bit easier to know the neighbors here. And I'm too good at going along with the custom of not interacting much. This is a case where I wish my American-ness had come forward a bit more.

Hmm.

Are scientists born or made?

I'm in at work early again, since for the last 2 weeks M and I have switched who takes the little one in to daycare. He gets some blessed moments of silence at home, and I get to work with time to spare. It works best if, like last night, we all get a lot of sleep and I am not in need of my morning nap to think clearly. And somehow, even though the night started of warm (80 F) and by midnight there was a crazy hail and lightning storm ripping through the neighborhood, we all slept pretty well. Ok, not the dog. Thunder and lightning make her forget she needs an invitation up on our bed and she pretty much just thinks "Sorry, guys, but I've got to come smush against you to get through this." So even with a dog in the bed, we all slept until 8am. Giving us 30 minutes to dress, eat, and get out to daycare. Luckily, I took a shower last night.

So here I am, in a dark, quiet office. Rainy, cool day. Trying to put down a few more thoughts about academia before I forget.

This came up during the workshop I did, not on a slide, or maybe it was. Anyway, it is another offshoot of my study, something that struck me towards the end of analysis, in conversation with M and others and my data. The idea of intelligence as fixed and hereditary instead of learned and fluid closely follows the notion of whether a great astronomer is born or made. I think the view of a department (as a unit and as a collection of people) on this question will dictate its policies and how the program is structured. Even how student success/failure in coursework, research or communication is interpreted.

If great astronomers are born (=intelligence is fixed, hereditary), then the job of the department is to find those who are born astronomers. The focus is on weeding out the non-astronomers from the chosen few. The assumption may also be that a true astronomer can be recognized by her/his grades, recommendation letters, GRE scores, and undergraduate institute of origin during the admissions process. In classes, if the material is "too easy" then "we let everyone in" or "we dumb down the process" and non-meant-to-be's also survive. There is research on academic mathematics grad programs that has looked at these attitudes. The notion of a "weed out" course should be common, and accepted by instructors and students. Failure of a student can be attributed to "not meant to be an astronomer" status, and quality of mentoring is largely of the hook. If you have a good mentor, great, but if you don't, that shouldn't stop a real astronomer from graduating and getting a good position. Nothing should stand in the way of

My dirty little secrets

Guess what? I have a cleaning lady. In the colloquial sense of that phrase, not like I own a human being who sleeps under the couch.

It has taken me quite some time to get used to the idea of having help cleaning house, even back when I was finishing my dissertation full time, or when A started going to daycare. But I'm finally learning how much it helps to have help with the house. I still do the shopping, and recycling, and M and I split the laundry. I cook most nights, dinners that I'm happy to put in front of A. But I rarely do dishes anymore, or clean the floors (which run rampant with dog hairs, but not, due to the dog's tongue, rampant with food around the highchair). Or the bathroom.

About 2 months after we moved here, we hired a cleaning service to come every two weeks. M would have started right on in at every week, but it took him some time to convince me. Yes, my husband advocated not only for cleaning help, but also any other help we need. He's really good that way.

Now, wonderful S, from Montenegro, with whom I speak broken German, comes for a full apartment cleaning once a week, and a few other mornings a week, just for an hour, to do the kitchen and then anything else if there is time. Do you know how wonderful it feels to walk into my bedroom and see the bed made with fresh sheets? I hope I'm not sounding like I'm bragging. If we couldn't afford the help, life would get so much more hectic and tiring. I'm telling you, for those of you who have maybe thought about getting the help, that it is one of the best things our money goes to. I would give up many other things I spend money on before this one. It gives breathing room to our family, and joy.

It means I can spend the extra time getting work done but also still keeping up with the bills and my yoga routine for my back. I can take care of myself enough to have energy for A. Which counts a lot.

Anyway, I thought I'd write about this today, because I think having cleaning help is still somehow taboo in American culture, and women feel like if they aren't completely overwhelmed, they have no right to hire someone to help. So, we have doggie daycare 3x a week, child daycare half time, I work half time, M works full time, we have cleaning help 3 days a week, I order groceries online to be delivered, and we have a babysitter we use for a night out or sending A for an overnight every few weeks, just to stay sane.

Oh, and S is the first person I've actually wanted to learn more German for. Not a local, but for the woman who takes such lovely care of our apartment, and even arranges the dog bed, I've wanted to be able to ask her more about her day, and to communicate better. And in fact, the new words I've learned in German were things like "leave", and others related to the household.