I'm finally back to my old habit of taking the bus to school and walking home (for which the planet and Berkeley traffic both thank me). For weeks or months I was able to rationalize driving because I thought I had too much to carry and what would happen if I forgot x, y or z things that Jack cannot possibly make it four hours without? But I guess now that I better know what to expect I don't feel like I have to pack the whole house up with me every time I leave it. I have surprised myself by suddenly settling into this easy routine of dropping the baby off, working in the morning, picking the baby up, and having my afternoon free to do whatever I like and actually enjoy myself because I already got some good work done. I could really get into this working part-time gig. I feel so extraordinarily lucky, and in the back of my mind can't help but wonder how on earth the next one's going to work. There's no way it will be as easy. Maybe I'll just have to get a second phd. (I'm kidding. Mostly.)
Because I'm walking home now, with a sleeping babe strapped to my front, I'm feeling ruminative and my trusty sidekick will let me babble on unchecked. Last week I went to a departmental mixer, not because I've finally come to terms with paying for childcare so that I am relaxed about socializing during my work day, but because there was free pizza and I decided the 20 minutes spent scarfing and mingling with entomologists would've otherwise been spent packing a lunch, so it was a wash. And all else being equal, if free pizza is involved you can bet that I'll be there. At said mixer, I spent a while chatting with a professor who'd recently become a father. He had that dazed staring-off-into-space look that I remember so well and that made me wonder why he'd even shown up to this thing. I soon learned: administrative commitments. Really? They don't let you out of those when you've just had a baby? He shook his head emotionlessly. Anyway, I congratulated him and he returned the gesture and asked, "so I hear it's supposed to get better at 3 months- does it get better at 3 months?" I didn't know quite what to say. First of all, it was discombobulating to have a professor asking me for life advice. They're supposed to be so far ahead of me on that path, it's weird when they're not. Life trajectories get all screwed up by the modern career world. There's a 20 year span where it's perfectly acceptable to have babies. That's crazy. Second, did what get better? Things got different, they keep getting more different, but better or worse are not the right words. I could tell that was not what he wanted to hear, though, so I just smiled and nodded, yes, it gets better and better. He mentioned that the one place they could reliably find solace was in the car; their baby falls asleep as soon as they start driving. I bit my tongue again, because I remember that stage, and it didn't last long. The car is Jack's least favorite place now, although he hates it less than he did a month ago. But what good would it do to tell him that? Besides, maybe his kid will be different. Almost certainly she will, in plenty of ways, if not this one. And I hate it when people say, oh just wait, you'll see, blah blah blah. I don't want to be that person. So I kept my mouth shut, and listened to him list off the cute things she does, as he grew less glassy-eyed and more human with every thing he shared, and I realized then that we were the only people in the room not talking about bugs and/or the new museum space we were celebrating. This professor and I don't have a lot in common other than the class of his I took three years ago, but suddenly, for that 20 minutes, we were peers. We were just a couple of new parents, and it's funny how that levels the playing field in so many ways.
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