Archive for the 'alternative career' category

Your boss can’t always be your mentor

“You shouldn’t be afraid to tell your boss exactly what you want to do for your next step – it’s their job to mentor you,” is the advice I have given many people, particularly grad students and postdocs who decide they want to pursue careers other than strictly academic research but are afraid to tell their bosses. And now under similar circumstances myself, I have become very hesitant about what information to give my boss about my career plans. I see all the reasons that people would not want to be upfront with their bosses.

  1. I don’t want to get fired. If my boss thinks that I’m no longer right for this job, or the kind of person they want to train, they could just let me go.
  2. As far as I can tell, my boss is not interested in mentoring me for a career outside of academic research.
  3. I don’t want to appear flaky or uncertain. Mostly for reason #1, but also because I still want to be able to count on good letters of recommendation if needed.

At the same time though, there are reasons I should talk to my boss about this.

  1. I could use some advice, mentoring, and maybe even connections or referrals, and I still believe it is part of a boss’ job to provide those things.
  2. I don’t want to waste any more of our time or energy applying for research and training grants, if that is not a direction that will help my career.
  3. Doing so may actually push me to move out into the career I want – even if it was because I got fired.

Plus, I just prefer to be open and honest and I’m sure my boss would prefer that as well. So I will try to first get some mentoring outside of my boss, come up with a game plan for my next career steps, ideally a plan that includes a clear reason why my current position is valuable for my future, and then open up to my boss about it.

With this new perspective, I completely understand why people would not want to be completely open with their bosses, and I apologize for acting like it was so clear cut. That said, as many before me have noted, I do think that most PIs need to be more aware that the majority of trainees are not going to end up as PIs like them, and be open to the many career possibilities that appeal to PhDs. And let’s be honest, your PI probably can’t be a great mentor to you when you’re pursuing a career outside of academia, the only path they’ve traveled, an you’ll want to find another more helpful mentor anyway.


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I get it now: Reflections of a seasonal stay at home mom

I used to balk at the prospect of staying at home with my child. My mother in-law has frequently and less than gently suggested and touted the benefits of staying home with her own small children. “I’m a busy body,” I would respond, and “I like to feel like I have value outside the home.” I frequently reposted articles to Facebook that touted the benefits of staying in the workforce, partially to reinforce my decision. (http://www.pbs.org/newshour/making-sense/how-much-does-it-cost-to-leave-the-workforce-to-care-for-a-child-a-lot-more-than-you-think/). I’d vehemently disagree when people argued that childcare is too expensive to allow them to work. (Here’s my math: 2 kids in daycare at an average of $1,000/month is $24,000 dollars a year: A lot of money, definitely, but certainly not more than the annual income of many of my colleagues.)

I work part time as a high school teacher. I love the work, but the pay (especially as a part-timer) is admittedly low. Many perks counterbalance my small paycheck. Among these are ample breaks; I get every holiday off, plus two weeks at Christmas, a week for spring break and 10 weeks off in the summer. I cherish these breaks, both for my own sanity and the precious time with my small daughter (and soon to arrive baby boy!).

The first few weeks of summer, I often feel antsy. I frantically clean the house during naptime and create projects for myself. I organize, weed the yard and bake healthy muffins. Within a few weeks, though, my toddler and I get into the groove. I read books, listen to podcasts and frequent the neighborhood park. I make regular trips to Target, and we never run out of diapers or paper towels. I make dinner every night, get the laundry done at a non-frantic pace, and get us packed and unpacked from a multitude of summer trips. When my husband gets home in the evening, instead of flitting around the house to finish our chores and prepare for the next day as we do during the school year, we spend quality time together. We reflect on our days and plan for our future. We pour over the unreasonable number of photos and videos of our daughter I’ve accumulated in a short 10 hours, and climb into bed content instead of exhausted. My husband recently commented, “I feel like I’m on break, too,” despite working 55+ hours per week.

As a result, this summer, I have for the first time really, truly understood why many families choose to have one parent stay home (and I don’t think it’s usually financial). With one of us home, our relationship is better and our life is less stressful. We have time to chat about our days and energy to go out to dinner occasionally just the two of us (without feeling like our daughter lives in childcare).

I’m certainly not ready to leave the workforce. A lifetime of internal dialogue regarding the benefits of working when combined with a deep love for my work in science education is not outweighed by my recent revelations. However, I vow to be relinquish my previously judgment over those who choose to do this life differently than I have and to be more open minded. Maybe one day I’ll be a full time stay at home mom. Or maybe I’ll work full time. But for now, I’m thankful for this season.


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Mission Statement

There is so much that I love about my career as a Research Scientist in BioTech. I love the creativity and intellectual stimulation, the teamwork and independence, the opportunity to apply expertise but always keep improving and learning, and I love the puzzle of it all. But sometimes I feel drained, and recently I’ve been in a bit of a funk. I think part of it is from our continued fertility struggles; but I start thinking that maybe I’m not in the right job or even the right line of work…. Maybe I want to run away and be an illustrator or a farmer. I should go live on a commune and teach kindergarten in a tree house. But when I really sit down and outline what I want out of a career/my life I realize (again) that I’m doing it, I have my perfect job. So why do I feel so blah?

? I recently came across a blog post entitled “why a personal mission statement is key to career bliss.”  Based on this maybe the question I need to be asking myself isn’t what I want to be, but rather who do I want to be. I like this idea! I don’t need go external and look for a new passion project or do anything drastic to find my happy place, I just need to be more mindful of my “core motivators” and make sure that I honor that thought in my daily life. Here is my first attempt at a personal mission statement, it’s pretty broad, but I like that it applies to my work-life and my life-life.….

To be a compassionate and creative person who contributes to, and supports teams trying to make the world a better place.

I would love to hear from you, do you have a mission statement?  Has it helped you?


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Listen to yourself

For the last six months I’ve been co-facilitating a peer mentoring group for postdocs, a group initiated by our postdoctoral affairs office. We’re seven people, all in some kind of biomedical research, but not necessarily with the same career goals. The aim of the group is to support each other and give feedback as we move forward on our career development paths, focusing on a specific task each month such as conducting an informational interview about a prospective career option.

One thing that has really struck me about this group is that at over half the people have changed their top-choice career goal just in the six months we’ve been meeting! And it’s not like we’re fresh off the PhD and just bouncing around all the options – most of us have been postdocs for more than a few years, and several of us have done two postdocs.

There are two main ways people have been led to change their goals. The first is through some introspection. We used an Individual Development Plan (My IDP) to facilitate this – I highly recommend this to anyone as a way to clarify (and quantify) your interests, skills and values in a way that can show you more about yourself and good potential career matches. It certainly has some limitations, but it can be eye-opening. For example, the first time I used this tool it told me that, based primarily on my interests, my top career choices (i.e. Principal Investigator) were actually at the very bottom of my list of all the potential science career matches. So that was hard to swallow, and apparently I still haven’t dealt with it completely since that’s the main career I’m still pursuing… but this post isn’t about my problems right now, it’s about helping other people!

The other way that people have been led to awareness of a need for a shift in career choices is by being alerted by someone else that they’re not on the right path. This usually comes in the form of someone saying “When I hear you talk about -X- you sound really excited, and you’re clearly putting a lot of effort into it, but I never hear you sound that excited when you talk about things related to your current career path -Y-.”

My hope with this post is that those of you who are not feeling great about your current career trajectory can really listen to yourself as you talk about different parts of your job – what do you find yourself talking excitedly about, wanting to share with others, or putting ahead of other tasks you should be doing first? If you can listen to yourself and identify those things you’re truly excited about, then you don’t need another person to notice and tell you when you’re on the wrong path, and hopefully you don’t need to waste any more time waiting for someone else to steer you right. And if you’re better with numbers than hearing your own excitement level, the IDP can help you consider and quantify what your top interests are.

I try to check in with myself periodically and hear myself talk. The easiest thing to notice is that I am virtually never excited to talk about research. The next thing I notice is that I am more enthusiastic about things involving students. I first thought this meant that teaching was the right path for me, but when I really thought about what aspects of my teaching and interactions with students I liked the best, I realized that it was the mentorship and guidance that I valued more than teaching content. I’ve been mulling this over for the last couple of years, thinking about and exploring different jobs and careers that can best translate these interests and skills. I’ll keep you posted on where I’m headed!

Has anyone else made a startling discovery/decision based on the way they communicate about their jobs, or been in a position to convince someone else they have a better fitting path to pursue?


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Why I stopped faking it

When I was in grad school I felt like I wasn’t good enough and at the same time that I deserved to have it all – perfect grades, grants, awards, fantastic publications, a great social life and a happy family. My way of trying to achieve this was by acting tough, and it actually kind of worked.

Early on my PI told me that if I needed something from him I should keep “nagging” him (his words) if I wanted it done. He was right, he was a very busy man and I learned to do what I needed to do to get things done and I had a successful and happy grad career. At the intro to my defense he proudly told a story about the lengths to which I went to make sure that he signed paperwork in time for submission (I followed him to the restroom and waited outside until he came out). But acting all the time took its toll. By the time I was looking for a postdoc position I was burnt out (I know, almost everyone is burnt out by the time they defend), and I was so tried of trying to “fake it ’til I make it.”

The way this feeling manifested for me was in my choice not to pursue invitations to interview at top tier labs, and instead to join a good, but not a stretch, lab at a good, but comfortable University. I just wanted to go somewhere where I could do good work, be a good lab-mate and collaborator and be supported in turn, and I thought I had found just the place. It nearly broke my heart when I learned that my new PI had hired another postdoc at the same time as me and had given her the same project as me. I still don’t know if this was the result of a brain fart or if it was a may-the-best-researcher-win type thing, but it sucked! She was a very nice person and once we realized what was going on we were totally open with each other about what we wanted to do with the funding and the project and we made the best of the situation… but it broke me down. I stopped pretending I was strong and acting tough. I let the fact that I was sad about the situation show and completely shifted my research topic (for multiple reasons) – we were already competing with the rest of the research community, I didn’t want to have to compete with my lab-mates.

When my husband and I got the opportunities to move to California I was thrilled. It was a chance to move on! I’d decided that I wanted to leave academia and see if biotech was a better fit, but I’ve still not put back on that mantel of toughness. I’m a lot truer to myself and my feelings now, I’m not sure if that is a good thing or not. It means that my insecurities are more pronounced; I’m suddenly a lot more visibly nervous giving talks. I also push myself less, I’m less focused and for better or worse I’m not trying as hard to have everything right now. I feel like I lost my edge when I gave up pretending that I was perfect and stopped grabbing for “all the things.” On the other hand I’m happier and less tired all the time. I get to prioritize my personal life along with my career. And now that I’m less concerned about credit and what I deserve, I think I’m a better collaborator and team-mate. Things that used to drive me crazy, like when people would co-opt my ideas without credit, don’t affect me the same way. When I realized this change I initially felt terrible, giving up my (righteous?) entitlement seemed so sad, but most of the time now, I don’t see it that way. I think there is a healthy line that I’m still learning to walk between wanting everything and accepting anything. I hope as I become more honestly confident that I’ll find my middle ground.


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Topics of Interest

Currently a former neuroscientist turned stay-at-home mom, I get to stay home, and watch and play with my two girls.  Old habits do not die too quickly; I often find myself observing my kids as if they are my former experimental subjects, rats.  As they grow up and acquire new and more advanced skills, many questions have come up regarding what is going on in their brain and brain in general.  Here are some questions I might ask if I were choosing a topic of research right now:

  1. Lifetime taste memory?

As I watch my 2-year old put everything and anything in her mouth, I can imagine what each object tastes like: metal, plastic, fabric, paper, wood…  Although I have not actually tasted them recently, I am fairly certain that my ideas about how those objects taste are pretty accurate.  But how do I know?  When was the last time I actually put those items in my mouth?  Do I remember from the time I was an infant/toddler when I did the extensive savoring?  And would I remember those tastes forever?

 Though I could not find exact answers to my questions, I did find an interesting study that suggested that memory for taste forms as early as in utero.  According to the authors in this article, many flavors, e.g. garlic, carrots, vanilla and mint, are diffused into amniotic fluid and breastmilk.  In this particular study, three groups of mothers drank carrot juice either during pregnancy, lactation, or never.  When the babies started eating solid food several months after they were born, they were fed cereal prepared with carrot juice.  Their facial expressions during the first feeding were recorded. The babies born to mothers who drank carrot juice during pregnancy or lactation exhibited much less negative facial expressions than those born to mothers who never did.   

The authors suggested that less negative facial expressions are due to being already familiar with the taste via amniotic fluid or breast milk.  This is one way that food culture and preferences are passed on.  The ideas of how food taste are reinforced throughout the years after birth, but exposures to non-food stops at some point (hopefully).  Are memories of metallic and plastic taste actually retained for lifetime?

2. Bilingual brain

My husband and I speak English to each other in an English-speaking country, but we each have a second language.  Before our first daughter was born I declared to everyone around us that our daughter was going to be a trilingual.  After our daughters have been born, my husband has been very diligent in speaking his second language to them. I on the other hand have been slacking off (it is more difficult and takes more discipline than I thought!).  As a result (and attending an immersion preschool in my husband’s language), my almost 5-year old is a true bilingual.  She switches between two languages beautifully.  As I listen to my daughter and husband converse and have no idea what is being said, I wonder how language is processed by and represented in brain (not just a second language, but a first language as well).  

My 2-year old is at the point where she repeats everything she hears.  Her pronunciation of some words that I teach her of my second language is sometimes better than my 5-year old’s.  Experts discuss a “critical period” for learning a second language. When you learn a second language prior to the age of 12, you speak the second language with vastly few or no accent. From my small study with a sample size of two, there seems to be age-related smaller windows and/or stages for language reproducibility and acquisition.  I am certain there are actual studies on this, but it is still fun to observe in my kids.

[I want to expand more on this topic in a later post — there are many fascinating studies out there!]

3. Educational Neuroscience

While being a working neuroscientist, I had many conversations with my sister who was a high school English teacher.  She often expressed wishes to have taken courses in neuroscience during her teacher training so that she could understand how the brain works and have come up with more effective ways of teaching.  The discipline of Educational Neuroscience is emerging to bridge the gap between neuroscience research and classrooms.  As a mom with kids approaching school-age and with learning and memory research background it is of a particular interest.  Some neuroscience findings have already been applied and implemented in schools: delaying school start time and keeping recess and physical education.  Skepticism of bringing neuroscience to classroom is there and perhaps sometimes warranted, but if done correctly and carefully, I believe there is much Neuroscience can offer to devise a method/environment for efficient and effective learning.

As my daughters exhibit any behavior, I keep asking why and how. I just hope that there are no negative repercussions for observing (or parenting?) my daughters with this type of ulterior motives…


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I’ve made a huge mistake

This is it. I’m saying it out loud (well, writing it anonymously) for the first time… I’ve made a huge mistake. I am not on the right career path. And I don’t know how to move forward from here.

With each year that’s passed since graduate school, and each postdoc position it’s become more and more clear that a PI in academia, at least at a research-intensive university, is not the right job for me. Here are a few reasons.

1) I don’t have the passion.

I see other people who get so excited about new prospective techniques or experiments, or new lines of research and ideas for grants, and all I think is, “I wish I cared that much.” I just don’t care. Like, at all. I’ve always been pretty interested and even excited about my own projects and moving them forward, but it’s really hard for me to care about anything outside of my immediate field. And I also think about those people who are so passionate, “I hope they get the faculty positions they want… they definitely deserve it more than me.” It makes me really sad to hear about people who are so excited about the research but just don’t think it’s feasible for them to get to the place of running their own lab.

1b) I have other passions.

I’ve become a lot more excited about side projects I’ve been working on – science related, but outside the lab. I hear myself talk about these other projects with enthusiasm and ease that is completely lacking when I talk about my research, present or future.

2) I don’t have the vision.

I’m not exactly a “can’t see the forest for the trees” person, but I am learning that I don’t have a good sense of the big picture, or where the field (read: funding) is going and how to insert myself there. I’ve never cared about the latest tools or hot topics. I just want to do what I want and keep moving that forward. But that’s not the way to keep a lab funded for 30 years.

2b) I am really good at seeing other things.

I am a great problem solver, and good at seeing holes and what needs to happen to fill them. Somehow this doesn’t translate to a big-picture scientific vision.

3) I don’t like the environment.

Over time, I’ve been exposed more to the side of research I really detest – the cutthroat, competitive, nepotistic, money squandering, high-impact-chasing side of science. Or rather, scientists. I’m pretty sure I could play the game my way and maybe even change some things for the better, but I don’t even want to be a part of a world like that.

I do know that there are many reasons I’d be a great PI, but these three above are really telling me that this is not right for me. So, now what? I am well into my second postdoc, and starting to write a grant for a transition to independence… How do I get off this track? Do I look for a new job right now? Or just keep doing my postdoc for the foreseeable future but not take on any of the academic career-building moves I had planned? There are brief times when I think I can do this, and that’s part of what keeps pushing me forward, so I’m hesitant to give up when I have this momentum – I definitely wouldn’t want to regret jumping off the track because I know I wouldn’t be able to get back on.

It’s difficult to bring up with my mentors, especially with my current advisor. Like a previous poster described, I feel like I am letting them down or not living up to their expectations. Mostly, I feel like I appear flaky or indecisive, or worse, deceptive, and that’s not something I want to show to my bosses! I’m more inclined to wait until I have a plan and then present it and defend it if necessary… but on the other hand isn’t a mentor supposed to help you work through issues like this?

For those of you who left your original career path, did you wait until you had a clear path or job lined up, or did you jump ship as soon as you knew you weren’t on the right path?


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Ideas (About Science Careers) That Should be Retired

I love podcasts! The other day I was listening to Freakonomics, one of my go-to podcasts, and they started talking about “ideas that must die.” The hosts ask scientists what popular scientific ideas should be gotten rid of because they are impeding progress. The first example is from Sarah-Jayne Blakemore, a professor of cognitive science at University College London who wanted to debunk the idea of people being either left or right brained. Other ideas offered up to the chopping block included the power of statistics, the relevance of mouse models and that life is sacred. While I didn’t agree with all – actually most – of the suggestions it seemed like an interesting topic to explore for the blog. So I’ve come up with a list of misconceptions about careers in biology that I think should be retired.

  1. Research Professors have better/more flexible schedules than other career options. This is crap. All of the tenured and tenure-track faculty I know work their butts off non-stop and many non-academic jobs allow you to work around scheduling conflicts… it’s all about getting work done.
  1. Leaving academia is shameful and people who leave are not as smart/motivated/are only interested in the money (I’m still working on this feeling for myself but I love what Perima, StrongerThanFiction and Torschlusspanik have to say about careers outside of academia)
  1. PhD’s always make more money than researchers who have bachelors or masters degrees. There are a ton of online debates about whether PhD’s earn more than researchers with bachelors or masters. The bottom line is, it’s not clear – so don’t go to gradschool for the money!
  1. Grad school is super hard and a terrible, horrible, torture fest. Yes, I had crappy days and at times it was hard to juggle everything, but it was a fantastic experience. I have way more good memories about my time in grad school than bad ones.
  1. Academia produces the highest quality work. I was surprised when I got to industry and found out how often we try and fail to replicate published results, even when consulting with the original authors. I heard a lot of talk about how the pressure in academia to publish diminishes the quality of papers. On the other hand, scientists in Biotech have their own pressures that can also be reflected in publications.
  1. Researchers in Biotech have no scientific independence. It is true that you are usually hired to work on specific research topics. But I have found that I am able/encouraged to bring up new ideas and follow up on diverse research questions. I don’t know if this is the norm, but I have been very pleasantly surprised at how much interesting research I get to do.

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My (blank) lab alumni page

The other day, I was looking for the proper citation for a publication from my graduate lab. I’ve been working on a manuscript to be published in an educational journal. In the process, I had to resurrect some information from my graduate research project. My search for the proper reference brought me to the website of my graduate research lab. I quickly found the proper reference, but couldn’t help but clicking around the other links on the page. I was pleased to see some of the news from the lab: new publications and grants for which I silently congratulated my former lab members. Curious to see if any new members had joined the lab since my departure the previous year, I hovered over the “lab members” page. I scrolled down and was pleased to see that my PI had finally hired the long-term lab volunteer as a research assistant, a few pictures had been updated and a new grant had been obtained.

I then got to the lab alumni section. There were only four of us, as my PI is relatively junior.  Two of those individuals were technicians that had moved on to other institutions. Then there were me and my classmate—we started in the lab at the same time and graduated at the same time. Under his name, the name of his prestigious postdoctoral institution was listed. The space under my name was blank.

My graduate advisor is aware of my new position, teaching advanced biology at a college prep high school in the same city as my graduate institution. We’ve exchanged emails and he congratulated me on my job. I was a productive graduate student, earning the NSF Graduate Research Fellowship and publishing 3 first author papers. All of this information is touted on the lab website. Because of this, the omission of my current job feels deliberate. In the weeks since then, my mind has frequently revisited this moment. I feel more hurt the omission of my recent career decisions than I initially thought. Because of my scientific nature, I’ve tried to analyze why I care about the lack of a few little lines on an infrequently visited website for a small biology lab.

Even the most old school faculty in academia seem to now realize the necessity of training graduate students for careers outside research. Despite this awareness, the stigma of pursuing a career outside the traditional remains, especially in the unspoken way that I experienced when navigating my former lab’s website. Rationally, I know that I am doing something that make a difference. Every day, I am empowering young women, training the next generation of scientists and doing something that makes me seriously happy. I feel like I am using my strengths, I frequently attend research seminars and engage with local scientists. Despite this awareness, I am admittedly offended by the omission of my current job (I’m a 3 on the Enneagram, for those that are familiar with this personality classification system).  I know that teaching high school isn’t glamorous and I am certainly overqualified for my position. I don’t make much more than a postdoc and I work really hard—certainly harder than I did in grad school.  Because of these sacrifices, I’d really like my former and present colleagues to acknowledge the value of my work.

If we are to really fix the Ph.D. job issue, then we need faculty to be both encouraging and accepting of diverse (not “alternative”) career choices among graduates. We keep hearing this mantra that “Ph.D. skills are transferrable.” If universities want to maintain the current training structure for graduate students and postdocs, than we must really value fields to which those skills ultimately transfer to—even if they are not the career trajectories faculty chose for themselves.


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A day in life of “opt-out mom”

I am afraid this week’s post will have nothing to do with science.  It will be a post that you might read on a mom blog.  I have been dreading to post my version of  “A day in life of…” for this reason.  However, I am rather inspired to write on this topic this week (ok, I am already past the deadline and I could not put my thoughts together on other topics…)

When my first daughter was born I was a project scientist at a university and went back to work when she was three months old.  At that time I so wanted to stay at home and stare at and take care of my beautiful girl all day.  The daily routine at that time was, wake up, get ready, drop her off at day care, work, pick her up, go home, cook and eat dinner, put her to bed, wash bottles, and go to bed myself.  I had at most 2-3 hours a day to spend with my baby.  That seemed eternally too short to me.

When my second daughter was born we moved for my husband’s work and I had left my old job without any prospect in the new city.  With compounding reasons I decided to stay at home.  I was fortunate to get what I wanted.

Depending on how you look at it, I am not the only one or there are not too many who choose this path.

So here goes a day in life of an “opt-out mom”.

7:00am – I wake up on my own.  Some days by this time we have a visitor in our bed.  Not this day, as my 4-year old finally went to sleep around 11:30pm the night before.  She did have almost 3 hour afternoon nap, and she was not tired at night.  It was my fault for letting her sleep for that long, but I just hate to wake up a napping kid.  I do have to wake her up in the morning in time to leave for preschool, and she will not be happy.

7:30am – I get up and get ready.  The girls are still asleep.  I mentally prepare myself for the wrath that is about to ensue when I wake up my 4-year old as I wash my face.

8:00am – Time to wake the girls up.  L (4 year old) opens her eyes as I enter her room and is not happy.  I smile at her but do not approach.  I peek into M’s (2 year old) crib and see her still asleep.  I exit their room once to give them time to wake up.  When I go back in, the girls are cranky.  I pick up M to get her dressed; she is easier.  L is a daddy’s girl – she is nicer to my husband.  He distracts her by telling her he is leaving for work.  L jumps out of her bed and follows him to the door. When she comes back, a long negotiation of what she wears commences.  For a long time now, she refuses to wear nothing but pink and purple dresses.  After failing to convince her to wear a pair of jeans, or a new blue shirt from her grandmother, I at least get her to wear leggings (pink) under her dress.

8:20am – Breakfast.  I want to diversify, but it is always cereal or toast, and fruit.  I prepare L’s preschool lunch.  Sometimes I make an elaborate bento box lunch.  Most days a sandwich, two types of vegetables, and one type of fruit.  I eat scraps of food left by the girls for my breakfast.

9:00am – Time to brush teeth, wash face, and tend hair.  This morning however the girls decide to have an impromptu tin whistle recorder concert. The squeaks are unbearable. I carry one girl at a time to the bathroom and get them ready to go out of the house.

9:20am – Leave for L’s preschool.  We live 6 minute car ride away from preschool.  This week is a Teacher Appreciation Week.  I am a co-class parent in L’s preschool class, and have been organizing and coordinating parent volunteering for this week.  I go in and give potted flowers to the teachers, and turn in documents and submit collected money to the administrative office.  I understand everyone is busy, but sometimes being a class parent is just willing to be ignored (just like when I served as a steering committee member for establishing a postdoctoral association at a university, and no one responded to my emails).

9:40am – I see my friend with three kids whose husband just left for 2-week business trip.  I stop in my track to check in with her.  We decide to check out a new bakery.  I think about all the things I planned on doing that morning, and the most important thing for this day did not even register at the thoughts of chocolate croissants.

10:00am – The new bakery is not open on Mondays so we go to another. They did not make any chocolate croissants this day (@#$%^&*!).  I order a turkey and cheese croissant, cardamom raisin bun, and tea.  My friend and I catch up on our weekends.  Her all three kids had stomach virus and vomited all weekend. She also tells me that whooping cough is going around our school.  I express my anger and lament (mostly anger) at anti-vaxxers.  We both worry about baby siblings of students at school who have not completed vaccinations.  M soon gets bored when she finishes her food, starts walking around and eating crumbs off the floor…

10:40am – I glance at my phone, and it indicates I was supposed to meet a handylady at my house at 10:30.  How could I have forgotten?  I rush out of bakery and back home.  This is unfortunately typical of me, forgetful and/or clueless.  Sometimes even being organized and putting in calendars does not help.

11:00am – Luckily the handyladies waited at my house.  I talk with them what we wanted them to do, and I go inside with M.

11:30am – I check my email and social media as M plays by herself.  She is very good playing by herself, humming songs on her own. Sometimes she asks me to stack blocks, help her with putting diapers on her baby doll, or read a book.  I oblige.  I also try to tidy up a bit, but then resolves why bother when the girls will undo everything I do almost immediately.

12:45pm – Time for lunch.  Most of the time it is leftovers from the night before.  Sometimes I cook pasta or fried rice.  Today we have a sandwich and some vegetables.

1:20pm – Time for preschool pick up.  It is a bright sunny day.  I realize I forgot to put sunscreen (PSA) on L.  The kids are outside for one hour before pick up.  L tells me that she made something for me for Mother’s Day at preschool.  Her teacher tells her it was supposed to be a secret.  At least that’s what I think they said, it was spoken in a foreign language that I don’t speak.

2:00pm – We come home, and the girls are fascinated by what handyladies are doing.  I put M for nap, and let L play around.  I also want to put L to nap, but if I did, I would most likely doze off as well.  So I wanted to wait until the handyladies were done.

3:00pm – The handyladies are done, and I try to put L to sleep.  Since she only had ~8 hours of sleep the night before, she should at least nap for 1 hour.  She insists she is not tired and wants to watch TV.  I tell her no TV unless she takes a nap.  Sometimes I feel that all I do is to bargain with my child.  This does not seem the best way, but I do not know how else to do it.  I do doze off.  L does not.  She asks every 10 minutes if it was 4pm, which is when I told her she should at least sleep until.

4:00pm – Because L did not nap, I tell her she cannot watch TV. She gets upset and wails.  I stand firm.  I was recently told that I am too easy on my kids.  I make threats but do not go through.  I have been try to be stricter since then. I wake up M who slept for 2 hours.  She is clingy for next 20 minutes.

5:15pm – I start on dinner.  The girls are out on the deck spraying water at themselves with spray bottles.  Sukiyaki for dinner tonight.  Quick and easy.  All meals to be made under 20-30 minutes, or the girls will destroy the house or themselves.

6:30pm – Husband comes home, and we have dinner.  No dessert unless they eat everything on their plate. I thinks this one is a good bargain.

7:00pm – L asks to play princesses with me.  An evil mom that I am, I tell her I would only if she plays scientists with me. She says yes because it is worth that much for her, and all of the sudden I am not quite sure how to “play scientist” with a 4-year old in a living room.  Do we pretend to mix stuff?  Look at stuffed animals with a magnifying glass?  I need to be more prepared next time.  When we play princesses, we talk more about being brave and independent.  L asks if what she puts on herself makes her beautiful.  I tell her it is what is in her heart that makes her beautiful.  Poor L.  Do I indulge her in girly dreamland a little bit longer or pound feminist ideas from the very beginning?

8:00pm – Bedtime routine starts.  Kids are not tired while adults are.  Tonight both girls were asleep by 9:30.  Big improvement from the night before.

9:00pm – I wash dishes and tidy up.  The next three hours are usually spent on writing, crafting, processing pictures, playing a board game with my husband, folding laundry, or surfing internet.  I want to go to bed early so that I can go for a run in the morning, but that takes discipline that I do not have.  I try to be in bed by midnight.

When M turns 2.5 year old, we plan to enroll her in preschool.  One question is how hard would it be for me to “opt-back-in”.


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