Presenting at a Conference with Your Baby: It Takes a Village and Realistic Expectations

I meant to put up this post months ago, but completely got side-tracked by excessive need to chat about anything other than what I mean to talk about.

One of my first posts when I re-started blogging was about how difficult I found it to travel with my family because it was hard to let them act as childcare, because they were doing me a favor. Well, I realized that this desire to minimize the help I received was not leading me to accomplish any of my goals and I began to be more vocal about what I needed and expected if someone was so kind as to offer me their time.

I had a paper accepted at an international conference. A big one. The paper presentation was in October, when Z was not even 2 months old. I needed to take her with me. I needed to give the paper. I needed to see some of the other papers/attend some meals/do some schmoozing. I needed help.

My dad offered right away. I didn't think it was going to work out. My dad likes to attend the conferences. He would want to hear the papers. If left with a 2 month old, he would not be able to join in the fun (and, yes, to us, this is fun). However, after considering hiring a local sitter to watch the baby and seeing if my sister was available, I decided to go with my Dad, because he was willing and could pay for his own flight.

I now feel bad because he did excellently, although I do think that this trip was such a success because I both stated my objectives and what I expected of him as my child's caregiver, but, also, I lowered my expectations about what was truly possible. Also, most of the historians I hung out with were women - many medievalists are women - and, even though I'm sure some will be surprised as they are all ardent feminists, they LOVE babies. The only person there who tolerates babies is my adviser and I knew this going in. My adviser, however, is completely realistic ABOUT babies. She is the oldest of a large family and knows what they demand.

What I'm saying is: you want people to remember you and you are a medievalist? Bring your baby to a conference. Everyone loved her, cooed over how well-behaved she was (she's an infant, she sleeps), and were also so impressed with my Dad, who basically followed me to a foreign country, so I could give a paper.

Here's what I told my Dad: I would leave him with the baby for only two hours at a time and then I would switch with him. He would not be able to bring the baby to my paper. No matter what, he needed to watch the baby while I gave my paper.

Here were my hopes: Attend at least one panel a day. Attend one conference gathering around evening. Go to the "big" conference lunch. Go to dinner with adviser and fellow panelists. Give paper.

Here were my expectations: Give paper.

Honestly, I went into this weekend with the belief that if I just could give the paper all would be well. I embraced Dr. Sear's mantra that even if Z cried for the 90 minute panel, she would be crying in loving arms. Luckily, it wasn't an issue.

I left Z with my dad for two panels on two different days as well as my own panel. I brought her with me to the lunch, to the evening gathering, and to the last panel of the conference. She started the dinner with my adviser hanging out with my Dad, but ended up joining us, screaming in the restaurant on my shoulder for 5 minutes, and passing out. She hung out in a bar with me and some other attendees. For some of this, my dad hovered outside, just in case. For some of it, I let him wander off.

Ultimately, it was a success, because after traveling with Q and trying to figure out what to do and how to handle everything, I decided that I wasn't going to handle everything. If I brought Z somewhere and she became upset, we'd leave. It was life. She was a newborn. Everyone would and did understand. All I wanted to do was give my paper and I did that and more. I had a great weekend. Z loves her PawPaw. As of right now, it is my favorite conference, which I have attended ever.

Also, it's always cool to bring your baby into a bar. Z is so hardcore.

A Funny Thing My Grandmother Said To Me

Now that I've told you about my grandmother's funeral and a little bit - a very little bit - about her life, let's travel even farther back in time ... no, wait ... this post is about something she said before she died (probably obvious), but after I ate all her tums. Okay, it's in the past. (I'm sure the Germans have a tense for this occasion.)

One of the last times I visited with my grandmother, she told me to "Always have a boyfriend on the side." When I told my mother that Grandma M said this, her reaction was "Why didn't she ever say that to me?!?" No idea.

Was my grandmother just telling me to live life and throw away societal norms and give in to my passions? No, not at all. This fact may shock you, but being a ventriloquist on the radio was not exactly a lucrative gig. I know, your mind: it is blown. My grandmother was a secretary throughout my mom's childhood. Given the fact that she was blind, this job garnered her a mention in an article. She wasn't, however, a proud feminist showing that women can have it all. No, she was a woman trying to keep food on the table and a roof over her family's heads.  Instead of thinking that skills and education were the way out of this predicament - after all, she had both courtesy of the Lighthouse for the Blind - she believed the answer was to have another man to fall back on and help provide. If something happened to your husband? Make sure someone was there to step in. My grandmother didn't want my mother to go to college or wear pants and when I transferred colleges and broke up with my boyfriend, whom my grandmother liked, I think she was concerned for my future.

My grandmother during her secretary days.

Unlike my grandmother, I am a feminist. I want my girls to have both education and skills.  When people talk about the Good Old Days when women were women and men were men, I'm not sure what they are talking about. Most women have always had to work, although in the days of cottage industries, not all needed to go far. We do our daughters a disservice not to prepare them for the real world.

Am I saying a women can't have a life goal of motherhood and staying home to care for their children? No. I have always wanted to be a mother and H and I made plans, so that I could be at home the majority of Q and Z's babyhoods.  If something was to happen, however, I have the skills to find work and, more importantly, a belief that I can take care of my family. I think that we need to make sure that our daughters are prepared for all possible problems and that none of them need or believe they need "a boyfriend on the side" to handle it.

I don't Pinterest and that's okay

(Dammit - I just noticed that the Bloggess's most recent post is about pinterest and now I feel like it is going to look like I'm writing in response even though our posts have nothing in common other than mentioning pinterest in the title. I just really like my title, so I'm keeping it. I seriously doubt anyone would care, because, let's face it, she's the Bloggess and I have, maybe, ten readers on a good day. Hello, readers!)

A few weeks ago, the article Why You're Never Failing as a Mother made the rounds on facebook. The intent behind the article is obvious: don't feel bad about keeping up with the Joneses (how do you make that plural?).  The "Mommy Wars" have received a lot of coverage over the past few years and I'm not going to say that they aren't alive and well, because I'm sure many people have experienced them (or the fall out), but, in my experience, it isn't about stay at home moms against work at home or bottle feeders versus breastfeeders. It's about someone being a jerk and, to be honest, I'm pretty sure that person would be a jerk about anything, not just your or my choices on motherhood.

Yes, people have told me to sleep train my 5 week old, yes, people have told me not to feed her as often, yes, people have stopped me at the playground with (unsolicited) "advice" for how to help my non-crawling 9 month old crawl (Q didn't crawl until 10.5 months). But you know what? I never thought to myself, wow, you are so right, I feel so badly about my choices and you make me second guess myself. Nope, I just thought, "jerk" or "you're crazy."* (One time, a friend and I were at the Fra Angelico exhibit at the Met - I think it was that exhibit, she is an art history grad student, I'm not, and it was over 5 years ago - and we were examining representations of the dormition of Mary, which is an Eastern Orthodox, not Western belief, I believe. At least, my 12+ years of Catholic school hadn't mentioned it and I was confused and said, "I've never heard of the dormition of Mary." Well, a woman behind me interjected to tell me that I need to "read more." It turned out she was a big fan of Dan Brown - no, I will not link to any of his work - and firmly believed in a Church cover up about Mary. My internal reaction? "You're crazy." My external? "Oh, wow, thanks, yes, we'll look into that.")

How do I internalize the majority of unsolicited advice or critiques on my parenting? I don't. I just - in most cases - think "Jerk." What I'm saying is, if you offer me unsolicited advice or criticisms, I will mentally categorize you as a crazy Dan Brown fan who accosts innocent museum-goers and insists that they "read more" until they are as steeped in the crazy as you.

A better question for the Mommy Wars is not "why are women fighting amongst themselves/not supporting their sisters" but "why are women so willing to second-guess themselves?" And it isn't just about motherhood.

I have two little girls and I want them to be confident in their beliefs and choices.

Disclaimer: I am talking about unsolicited, unhelpful advice, not suggestions by professionals. Also, my mom loves Dan Brown. Furthermore, while I don't Pinterest, I love seeing all the creative efforts. My sister did EVERYTHING for her wedding, including making her own papier mache centerpieces and cake top. It looked wonderful and even made it to Style Me Pretty. She and many people are really talented and I am in awe of their and, perhaps, your abilities. But they don't make me feel like my mothering is subpar, since I have not one crafty/artsy bone in my body. They just make me appreciate your efforts all the more. You want to explain the origins of the undead to preschoolers? I'm your mom. You want to make cupcake toppers? I am not.

Z doing tummy time on a blanket made by my sister while wearing PJ pants ALSO made by my sister.  See? Crafty. Me? Not at all. But I reap the benefits.

*I am so badass that neither my parents nor H's liked Q's name when we told it to them when she was still in utero and their negativity did nothing to make me change my mind about it other than to think, "Why would you keep asking what we were going to name the baby, only to shoot it down as soon as we told you? Jerks."