Response to reader inquiry

A. and RLM asked for an update on how our first mother-daughter overnight separation went back before Thanksgiving. Thanks--I'm grateful for your interest.

The short answer is that all went fine. Tom should tell his side, but the version I heard from him is that the first 15 minutes after Edith woke up Saturday morning were a bit rough. He tried to cuddle her in our bed with a sippy cup of milk, but she was still groggy and confused and upset that the routine wasn't going as it normally does. So he switched tactics and fully woke her out of auto-pilot, half-asleep mode, then whisked her to the diner down the street for a daddy-daughter breakfast outing. From there they went to play flag football, then to an end-of-season flag football cookout, then to a neighbor's birthday party, then to a church friend's birthday party. The effect was that she didn't have any more time after that first 15 minutes of the day to think about nursing and enjoyed herself. I was back by the time she woke up Sunday morning.

On my end, I needn't have feared waking up at 5:30. After a delightful evening's conversation with my hosts and some true vegging time like I haven't had in months, watching "What Not to Wear" while trading our critiques of the critiques, I conked out on their Aerobed until the aroma of pancakes wafted into the room at 8:30. I think I could have slept another two or three hours, but 8:30 does count as sleeping in these days, so it was already a gift. The surprising thing was how normal it felt to be staying on a friend's floor again, responsible only for being a good guest and enjoying myself with old friends. It didn't seem possible that it had been at least 19 months since I'd done anything like that.

More striking was the feeling of driving to D.C. by myself. I used to love road trips--indeed, driving in general--but increasingly I've found myself avoiding anything that will require significant time in the car and facing any unavoidable drives with anxiety and reluctance. I've even been willing to let Tom do most of the driving. I thought this was all the product of getting old and fuddy-duddy and nervous Nellie, becoming aware of my own mortality or some such.

But on the way to D.C., I was pulling into the Delaware Memorial Bridge tollbooth, trying to roll down the window, turn down the radio, and get the appropriate change out of my purse while steering into a lane that accepted cash, when it occurred to me that I couldn't remember the last time I'd driven anywhere further than the grocery store by myself. And then I realized I was having fun. And that maybe most of my driving reluctance has not been about age and the sense that there are too many wacko drivers on the road but in fact, about steeling myself for high-pitched protests from the backseat and for doing the dance/sing/entertain distraction number. It was so different to drive without worrying about how long I could push it before someone else in the car needed to stretch his or her legs, how to time a stop for gas so as not to wake a sleeping child, or whether I would have to interrupt my driving reverie with 23 rounds of "Happy Birthday."

The conference paper went fine, too, though I probably could have been smoother on the Q&A. I was prepared for hard questions about the specific content of the paper and so was thrown by "Your advisor is very accomplished at transnational historical research; how do you propose to reach a comparable level of competence?" (which I don't think was a hostile question--more of a "hey, what's it like to work with that brilliant guy?" sort-of question). I was even worse at "To close we'll give each of the panelists a chance to say whatever they haven't said yet." In the future I'll try to prepare for a broader range of non-content-oriented questions. In the meantime, I have a few more academic contacts, a few more publishing possibilities, and a paper that might actually launch the next chapter of the dissertation.

Now it's your turn. Those of you with (ahem ahem) languishing blogs out there, tell us about Thanksgiving, victorious football games, viruses, first birthdays, and of course, your kids' latest antics. Inquiring minds want to know.