Sabbatical

I learned last night that my sabbatical request was approved, which means in 2024 - 2025, I will have a year without my regular job responsibilities and service assignments. I thought that my first reaction would be pure, unadulterated joy and it was... for about an hour. Then all of a sudden an unexpected emotion -- paralyzing fear -- started to creep in. Wait, where did that come from? This is finally my chance to take a break, refocus, pursue meaningful work, find some balance, pick my kids up from school. What in the world is there to be afraid of? 

There are some legitimate fears at play. I'm currently in an "Interim Director" role and have been for almost two years. By the time I go on sabbatical, it will be 28 months. And if I'm being honest, it's a role I would love to be in permanently. If I go on sabbatical, there's a chance I'll lose that opportunity. I don't know who will run my Lab if I leave, and I don't even know if there will be a Lab to come back to with the current state of our funding. I have the most amazing office tied to my Interimship. If I leave for a year and someone else moves into that office, will I ever see it again? What if they stick me in a windowless box upon my return? What if working from home drives me crazy? What if I suddenly have all this free time and realize I'm still not capable of writing a book? 

But if I'm being honest, I'm tired of letting fear and scarcity drive my decisions. Over the past ten years as I've gained confidence and competence at work, I realize I've always set my bars low to ensure I clear them or stayed in boxes that felt acceptable to those around me. For some time, and maybe this is just some sort of midlife crisis or midlife awakening, I've felt like there is more out there if I could just be brave. I've felt stifled, and I've lost joy. This pains me to say, but I'm not as good of a mom as I used to be. Prior to this Interimship, I had work life balance. I was fun. I cooked all the time and actually made my family sit down for dinner together. I've practically given up at this point, most nights defaulting to nuggets or mac and cheese or hot dogs and letting my kids eat in front of a show because I'm too tired to make people do things they don't want to do. This is not the person I want to be. 

Staying unfathomably busy has made meaningful change impossible. I want to break the cycle with this sabbatical, which is not to say I want to do nothing. Sitting around all day sounds truly awful. But I want to learn to reserve my energy for things that really matter. I want to engage in meaningful work. I want to focus my attention. I want to write a book. I want to spend significant time reading and writing everyday like I used to. I want to lovingly care for my home, kids, and husband again. I want to remember how to lovingly care for myself. After letting this news set in for 12 hours, where I'm at is realizing that I might lose things: my current status at work, my expansive office with floor to ceiling windows, my sanity if my husband and I work at home at the same time. But deep inside me, I feel like there is more on the other side of crushing busyness; a life that's more authentic, beautiful, and joyful than the one I'm currently living. A life with enough space around me that I can finally breathe. Maybe a life that doesn't make me resent or disdain those around me who aren't "doing enough." And if I can peer beyond the fear, I do feel a deep certainty that what will come out on the other side might not be my current dreams (becoming the actual Director, keeping my big office), but ones that are even better than I can imagine. 

Utah Elementary Chess Tournament - Spring 2023

A fun surprise of 2022 was Harper's burgeoning interest in chess. It started her kindergarten year at Camp Wildlife where she learned how to play after school with some of the bigger kids. In typical Harper fashion, she then marched her six year old self into the school library and asked the librarian where she could find books on chess. After learning the basic rules, she started playing at home on Mondays and Tuesdays with grandpa and with Ashton who, at the time, was four and not exactly a prodigy. But she would move her pieces and then help him move his. Sometimes he would move his own and she would say, "I see why you did that Ashton," or "oh no, Ashton, you don't want to do that" while my heart exploded with silent joy in the background. 

With this as prologue, you can see why Harper was excited to learn that Dilworth was starting a chess club on Wednesdays before school. While getting out the door at 7:30 isn't exactly my idea of a good time, I was delighted to give Harper a chance to learn with about 40 of her peers from a saint of a Dilworth parent who seems pretty darn serious about chess. Last week, said parent sent an email to the rest of us letting us know about the Utah Elementary Chess Championships was happening at the University of Utah. I was instantly intrigued. I love exposing the kids to new experiences and my only reference point for kid chess tournaments, or any chess tournaments, were from Searching for Bobby Fisher and, more recently, the Queen's Gambit. Fortunately, Harper was equally excited to play in a tournament so we signed her up and hoped for the best. 

Saturday morning rolled around, and I truly didn't know what to expect as I packed up a small cooler full of strawberries, clementines, chips, and Uncrustables (don't judge). Harper was supposed to be "on board" at 9:00 am so we left the house about 8:15 and drove the familiar route to the University of Utah where I work. The tournament was bigger than I thought, with hundreds of kids filling up the Student Union. Harper was in the smaller kindergarten/first grade room adjacent to the large ballroom where parents and kids relaxed between games. There were 32 first graders in the tournament, and I was surprised to see that about half of them were from a private school called Waterford. More on that later. My first impression was that it basically looked like smart kid central. Observing the giant hall before our first game, I spied lots and lots of kids reading books (my people) and fewer, but still a significant amount of kids, playing warm up chess with their parents on roll-up boards. I became acutely aware that while I brought my kids and food, I forgot to bring anything to actually do between Harper's games. No toys, no books, no tablets. I might be a rookie chess mom, but I am no stranger to all-day events and needless to say, I should have known better. 

The tournament itself was run exceedingly well. The pairings for the first game were released a few minutes before 9:00, giving the kids a chance to go find their board. An interesting thing about chess compared to sports and other activities is that the parents aren't allowed to stay in the room. I was allowed to walk Harper to her board, give her a kiss, and say good luck, but then I had to disappear to the other side of the glass wall. In other words, you can watch your kid play but from outside of the room. I imagine at other venues, you may not be able to see your kid play at all. Honestly, as much as I love cheering for my kids, there's something I kind of love about this. When I coached volleyball for 12 and unders, there were plenty of parents I would have loved to banish to another room. Chess kids can just focus on their game and not get distracted by parental expectations or worse, bad behavior. 

I should interject here to say I was slightly worried about Harper's first game. I could decipher from the pairings sheet that some kids were "unrated" like Harper, and other kids had US Chess Federation ratings from previous tournaments. The first girl Harper played had the highest numerical rating on the sheet. Gulp. I wasn't sure what getting creamed looked like in chess, but that's what I was prepared for and tried to level set Harper's expectations according. "Remember, it's just for fun! Win or lose, you're going to learn so much!" Predictably, Harper did lose the first game, but it still looked like a good game. Harper was disappointed but fine. We talked about saying "thank you" and "good game," which I could see through the glass hadn't happened. 

There's a lot of waiting around between games. You have to wait for all the kids to finish playing and then they have to go calculate new pairings so there's at least 30-45 minutes of downtime in between games. I was grateful that a nice dad who runs the Whittier chess club and teaches math at the U, played a game with Ashton in between the first and second match. I never knew how much of Harper's "instruction" had gotten through to Ashton, but I learned he actually did know how all the pieces move. As the day went on, the general decorum of the room deteriorated, which was hilarious to behold. As well-behaved, quiet, and studious as the children were at the beginning of the day, by the end of the day they were almost all running around the room, playing hide and seek and tag or playing on tablets.  They are smart kids no doubt, but, to my great relief, still kids. 

Harper's second game of the day was more evenly matched. She played a sweet girl named Penelope and unlike her first match, they actually talked to each other a little while they played. The game was long, each capturing most of each other's pieces before Harper emerged victorious. Winning her first game was thrilling for Harper, and she started dreaming aloud about winning one of the trophies on display in front of the room. I could see that there were trophies for 1st through 15th place in varying sizes, and with 32 first-graders, it didn't take a math genius to ballpark that you have to win at least 3 of your 5 matches to get a trophy. I let Harper know that and also reminded her that we were here to learn and have fun, and even if she didn't win a trophy today, if she practiced hard she could certainly win one in the future. Harper heard me, but she still couldn't keep her eyes off of those trophies. 

Speaking of trophies and winning, the intensity of some of the chess parents was something to behold. Most parents, like most people in general, were very nice, and I enjoyed getting to know them throughout the day. I could tell straightaway that some of them were more businesslike and hands-on with their kids, going over the matches as soon as their kids emerged from the room. They could tell how the games were going in real time and often wore t-shirts of their kid's chess teams or quirky chess apparel like, my favorite, a "Me and this army" sweatshirt with images of king, queen, knight, bishop, rook, and pawn pieces. All of that was great, but when I saw a dad let his kid have it after a match, it took every ounce of willpower not to remind him that it was just a game and his son is just a kid. There was also an uncomfortable moment later in the day, when the tournament organizer gathered the parents together to let us know that there had been reports of a parent signaling moves to their kid. If caught doing so, the organizer said he would have no choice but to pull that child from the tournament. Reminder... a kindergarten and first grade tournament. 

Coming into the third round at 1-1, Harper's next opponent was a boy from Waterford who was ranked eighth in the tournament. Let's circle back to the aforementioned Waterford. I had never heard of Waterford before Saturday, but apparently it's a private school in Sandy that is very, very serious about chess. My first exposure at the tournament was seeing a sign at the front entrance directing the Waterford kids to their own private room to relax in between games. Okay. Then, as mentioned above, it struck me that almost half of the kids on the pairing sheet had "Waterford" next to their name. Hmmm, alright. I learned throughout the day in conversation with other parents that Waterford has a professional chess coach on staff and all their first graders take chess as part of their curriculum and have the option of joining the chess team. I think that's wonderful, but there's no doubt these Waterford kids have a real leg-up on the competition. Honestly, my inner underdog, rooted for Harper twice as much against the Waterford kids. But sadly, she did lose her third game, promptly asking me if she could still win a trophy. I let her know, again, the trophy wasn't the most important thing but she could probably still win one if she won her last two games. 

Harper was paired with another Waterford boy in round 4. It was a good game, both kids seemed serious and engaged, which I'm learning is the default look in chess. Ultimately though the boy won and Harper looked so distraught that my heart leaped out of my chest. As she emerged from the room, she collapsed against me in a puddle of tears. "Does this mean I can't win a trophy?" "No, my love, probably not. But I am so proud of you and you are learning so much. This is your first tournament and there will be trophies in your future." A learning lesson indeed.  

By this point, there was no other word for the kids in the waiting room except wild. The once reserved readers were running, dancing, and jumping from windowsills led, of course, by Ashton. It was a relief to see the fifth round pairing released so we could finish the day and get going home. 

For the third game in a row, Harper was paired with a boy from Waterford. The fifth round should theoretically be the most evenly matched of the day as the pairings get more and more refined. Once again, the games looked intense, all those small, serious faces turned downward. The kids were getting wiggly at this point and many stood hovering over their boards. Camaraderie had formed between the parents by the end of the day and we were chattering and bonding in our holding cell. I won't pretend to have any idea what is happening on the board, but when Harper's face lit up at the end, I knew she had won. I was glad to still see her exuberance even though there was no trophy at stake. 

Harper was delighted at the awards ceremony when she learned that even kids who didn't win trophies were still given medals. I know "participation" awards are highly controversial and subject to much derision, but I've never really had strong feelings one way or the other. This day though I was a fan and grateful to see Harper looking at her medal with shining eyes and unbridled pride. She still wants a trophy, she still has something to strive for, but she was brave, she tried her hardest, she won two games, and she has a tangible thing to remember this experience. 

Today is the Wednesday morning after the chess tournament. It's also daylight savings week so we'll be heading out shortly for chess club in pitch blackness. But today Harper gets to wear her medal and take a picture for the Dilworth yearbook, and she could not be more excited. She also thinks after everything she learned Saturday, she's going to play better at chess club today, and isn't that really the whole point? 

For my final words I want to give a big, heartfelt thanks to our Dilworth parent volunteer, Kellen McAffee, for fostering this interest in our kids and exposing them to something new. We don't have a chess coach like Waterford, but Kellen wakes up every Wednesday morning at the crack of dawn to teach our public school kids chess, and for that, sir, I salute you. 

Early walks

I've started a thing. When we were in Mexico in June, I would get up early and take a walk around the resort by myself, sometimes listening to a podcast and sometimes just lost in thought or muttering to myself when a salient thought hit me. I've always been an early riser and require a certain amount of time outside, preferably by myself lost in thought. But for the past several years, I've had these tiny babies and toddlers and always imagined them wandering out the door to find me if they woke before I got back. That fear was enough to keep me tethered to the couch in the morning; not a bad place to be with my cup of coffee and morning news and the promise of a bleary eyed child getting up shortly for matted hair snuggles. 

But Harper turned seven last month and Ashton turns five next week. They know how to find their dad, they can get their own snack, and even turn on the TV. They look for me when they wake up, sure, but they wouldn't worry or go looking for me if I weren't there, they would simply find a plan B. So several months ago after Mexico, I realized that these cleansing early morning walks need not be relegated to vacation, they could become part of my normal routine. It's not something I do every day, I don't set an alarm or anything. But when I wake up at 6:00 or 6:15 and have sufficient energy, I pour a cup of coffee that Robert sets up to automatically start in the morning (#bless), throw on shoes and head out, sometimes in pajamas and sometimes in sweats. 

Good morning, house.

I see things in the morning that I don't see the rest of the day. It is startlingly quiet in my neighborhood and very dark that early in the morning. On clear days, there are still tons of stars in the sky when I start my walk, and I notice the same bright ones every day. I always stop and take a deep breath because the air feels cold and crisp in the morning, right now with hints of fall earthiness. The leaves on my street have started turning yellow, which of course I notice more in the day, but the crunchiness is more apparent before dawn without the sounds of cars and neighbors or even birds to detract. 

Morning mountains

I feel safe in the morning. Maybe I shouldn't because it's pitch black, and I am all alone, but there is a perhaps naive part of me that believes night is for bad guys. Good guys are up at 6:00 am. Dog walkers, early morning joggers, diligent essential workers boarding buses in the cold, construction workers getting an early start at the giant development at the corner of 21st and 21st. I check out the construction every day with the curiosity of a 5 year old boy, watching the excavators dig and the walls come up. What used to be a hole in the ground is now the skeleton of a mixed use apartment building and shopping/dining center. I plan on living in our home for another 50 years which means I might grow to love some of the restaurants and shops or even occupants of the building. I may grown to hate how it affects parking or traffic or our local elementary school down the block. More likely, it will just become part of the fabric of our community, and I will get used to it. But this morning, the front walls came up for the first time, the ones closest to the street, and I realized I could see a little less of the mountains from my walk on 21st South, and a knot entered my chest because I often see the sun come up over those mountains right as I turn that corner, and it's a small time outside of time moment in my day. I tried to explain that later in the day to my teenager, and he didn't quite understand why I felt so sad. "Can't you see the mountains when you walk further up the street?" he asked. "Yes, I can" I said still feeling sad. 

October 2022

Recently, I gave my first keynote speech at a conference, which was practiced almost exclusively on my morning walks. Practicing without notes, slides, or distractions works well for me. I would say words out loud testing their effectiveness, holding them up to the first light of day and my clearest mind to see if I really liked or believed them. It was a good speech. At first I was embarrassed when I walked past other people and I was talking out loud, but then I realized most of them had AirPods on and couldn't hear me anyway so I stopped being embarrassed. I would still give them a nod and smile like I do to all my early morning compatriots. 

Today it's October 22 and we're supposed to get our first snow of the year tomorrow, and then it will proceed to be cold for the next six months. I'm not sure if I'll keep walking or maybe the couch, coffee, and fire will exert a stronger gravitational pull. Either way is fine, I just want to codify here on the blog how much I've enjoyed these walks and how my best days are always the ones that start that way. 

Riviera Maya 2022

For someone who loves to recreate, I am not a great traveler. I have had three passports in my life and each has been used exactly once. My family of origin did a lot of western US trips, camping, house boating, and sports travel, but international travel wasn't really part of the equation. In my adult years, our money has mostly gone to raising kids, student loans, cars, the mortgage, childcare, etc. Because of my staggered childbirths, I've also basically had smallish children since 2005. We take a few vacations a year but mostly to visit family in California or to regional spots like Bear Lake, Las Vegas, or the many gorgeous Mountain West locations within a few hours of our home. But last October, on the heels of a two week trial and thirteen years of basically never taking a day off work, Robert told me to book a vacation. Anywhere I wanted, preferably somewhere pretty. Out of my element and unsure where to turn, I gravitated to my most trusted and reliable resource: Costco Travel. 

In short, this weeklong trip to Mexico was a big deal for our family. And now I'm wondering why we waited so long because we had the best time ever, and, for the first time, I feel like I actually got a vacation too. Not to dunk on our normal vacations, but they usually they feel like a ton of work. The packing, the travel, the cooking and cleaning on vacation. "Vacation" for me often bears an uncanny resemblance to my normal life bookended by stressful travel days. 

But this trip was a true vacation. First of all, this year I finally bit the bullet and got my kids tablets. I cringe saying it because I hate the sight of two small children scrolling frantically on devices, chipping away at their attention span and executive function. On the daily, I genuinely try not to give Harper and Ashton phones or tablets, even though they watch plenty of TV. But in the spirit of making this trip fun for everyone, including me, they got their own Amazon Fires and headphones. As a result, the travel days were easy peasy. I even got to read a book and watch movies on the plane as if it were one of my work vacations. 

Layover in Denver

The captain pulled Harper and Ashton into the cockpit. It felt very pre-9/11 to have that kind of access.

Prior to the trip, I had some low-level anxiety about three things completely out of my control: flights, seaweed, and rain. Perhaps due to fear-based social media content, everything in my feed was warning me about the perils of air travel including rampant cancelled and delayed flights. My weather app was showing daily thunderstorms in Cancun, and my Costco travel agent had long since warned me about higher than normal levels of sargassum, the noxious seaweed invading the Caribbean in summer. So my expectations going into the trip were that our flights would be cancelled, it was going to rain every day, and that the white, sandy beaches of my dreams would be clogged with mountains of seaweed. And of course there is always the background anxiety of traveling during covid and possibly getting sick or stuck in a foreign country. Good times. 

The reality? It was absolutely perfect and made even more so due to my modest expectations. Flights were fine, beaches were beautiful, weather was gorgeous. The Hard Rock Hotel in Riviera Maya was the most family friendly resort imaginable with nonstop activities and amenities. Every day the kids and I would hit the beach, the many pools, the water park, and the splash pad. Aidan and his cousin Bob, our two 16 year old travelers, loved pool basketball, volleyball, the escape room, and Hyper X Gaming lounge. Everyone loved the ubiquity of food. Around the pool, where we congregated most of the day, there were delicious street tacos, burgers, fries, fire oven pizzas, multiple full bars, and even swim-up bars where the kids could get virgin pina coladas and daiquiris. Room service was available 24 hours a day, and there was an amazing buffet for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. There were several restaurants, but the one and only time we tried the restaurants both Harper and Ashton fell asleep at the table so after that we stuck to faster, easier food options which, again, were literally everywhere. This is a small thing, but as an early riser, I also appreciated that there was hot coffee available by the pool at 5:30 am when I would wander out for daily morning walks. 

One reason we chose Hard Rock is their man-made Lagoon where the kids could swim and play in the ocean without waves or a heavy current. 

Harper called this our secret patio since no one else was ever on it the whole time we were in Mexico. 

Looking for fish

Water park

Splash pad

Pool basketball

Big slides at the water park

One of the many pools

Because it was Hard Rock, the music was everywhere and we danced all day, every day we were there. 

These thoughtful, early morning coffee carafes around the resort were clutch. I see you Hard Rock and salute your attention to detail. 

After beach, pool, and water slides, the kids were toast by dinner every night. 

In addition to the breathtaking number of amenities, the staff and activities made the trip extra special. Aidan and Bob participated in the resort's Mario Kart tournament, and both made it to the finals! A credit to his countless hours on every possible gaming device, Aidan brought home the gold, and Bob came in 4th out of 16 competitors. Another night there was a freeze dance party in the lobby for the kids, which sent Harper and Ashton into fits of giggles every two minutes. In the beginning of the trip, I felt guilty dropping the kids at Roxity, the Kid's Club, but on the fourth day of the trip we finally tried it because Robert and I had a couple's massage booked and needed childcare. They LOVED it and were sad when I came back a few hours later to pick them up. The next two days they did Roxity again and got their faces painted, made balloon animals and magic wand crafts, discovered Pokemon, and had a jump rope contest. My one regret of the trip was not taking advantage of Roxity our first three days there so I could sneak in more reading and yoga. 

Mario Kart tournament

Aidan was totally in his element here, and reveled in being the best gamer. While I don't usually condone showboating, in an early round he crossed the finish line backwards. One thing that was sweet to behold was Bob's complete faith in Aidan's gaming ability. Before the tournament even started, he told me multiple times that Aidan had it in the bag. 

With their Hyper X buddies.

First place! 

Kid jet skis in the pool

We beat the escape room! Mostly thanks to Aidan but with substantial contributions from the rest of us. 

Face painting day in Roxity.

The list of things we didn't get a chance to do was as long as the list of things we did do. We missed the zip line, nightly entertainment shows like Michael Jackson and Queen tributes. We never left the resort to visit the ruins or swim with dolphins; I never tried the gym or Temple Yoga like I planned. As mentioned above, we barely tried the restaurants. In part that was by design. I have become such a slave to productivity in my daily life that I was determined not to pack the trip with a mile-long to-do list or have FOMO for every activity we didn't get around to. Even after a week of the things we did do (beach, pool, water park, escape room, gaming lounge, dance parties, spa, Roxity, etc.), you know what Harper and Ashton said their favorite thing of the trip was? Walking to the lobby to get donuts with me every morning. Bless their hearts. 

Morning donuts

Apparently, this was the best part of the day. 

Morning sunrise at Hard Rock

A habit I picked up from my dad is never missing the beginning of any day. It's the only time of the day where I feel more like a soul and less like one of my many roles. Every day in Mexico, I woke up at 5:30, walked, prayed, stretched, and set my intentions. Sometimes I would listen to an audiobook and walk around before going back to get the kids for 6:30 donuts. 

One thing I insisted on during the trip was a small 20 minute family photo shoot on the beach because I know from experience is that 1) when it's all over, all you have are photos and memories, and 2) every October, I panic about getting a good family photo for the holiday card. How nice for me to have that done in June so I can get my cards ordered and out by Thanksgiving this year. Everyone was a pretty good sport for the photos even though I never, ever get all my kids smiling and looking at the camera at the same time. Also, the resort photography studio definitely runs quite the racket. They were up front that each photo would be $25. Gulp, pretty spendy for one photo, but if I could knock the holiday photo out for $25 that's undeniably a great deal. But then they take 100 photos, many of which are downright adorable and way better than the candids I took all week. I was told there is a "discount" on buying bulk photos and the cost of all 100 photos would only be... $700. Insert cackling laughter because there's no way I'm paying $700 for a 20 minute photo session. Ultimately, I was still a sucker though and spent $200. Oh well, my kids are only young once, and my 2022 family photos are done. Plus, we got Bob in our photos which will be a fun unexplained curveball on our holiday cards. 

#RivieraMaya

My dream life. Look how balanced we look with two teens and two littles. Thanks, Bob!

12 years and counting! Woot! 

Ashton's Riviera Maya face. 

Heading home

Sign of a great trip.

1:00 am in SLC waiting for the Uber

The trip is over now, and I'm already checking prices online to do something similar next year. Costco really was super easy to work with, especially for someone like me who doesn't travel a lot and feels overwhelmed looking at every conceivable option. In typical Costco fashion, they narrow down your choices to just enough acceptable options. Their agents are available and friendly and give great advice on what would probably work for your family. One thing I will say is that having 3-4 kids instead of 2, really cuts down options and almost doubles the cost of the trip. I can see now why my parents stuck to camping and house boats.  That being said, hopefully this won't be the last time my passport is used in this ten year period of my life. 

Normal is awful, take me back to pandemic life

Hi everyone. It's my favorite part of the day, the hour in the morning when no one is up yet, I sip my coffee, and, as Glennon Doyle says, remember I'm a soul before I slip back into all of my roles. Like so many mornings, I have already taken the time to book every second of my day. Get ready, take the kids to school, consider what projects and tasks are most pertinent to complete around my four scheduled meetings, plan what time I have to leave work to get Ashton and meet Harper and the grandparents at Little Gym before we go home, make dinner, and get one hour of quality together time before falling into bed. Today is a reasonable day. I don't have deadlines I won't make or classes that I've only had a chance to half prepare for because adequate preparation is only something that can be done when one's to do list isn't a mile long. But it's busy. Every day is busy. 

Lately the busyness feels impossible. I'll focus on the work element of this impossibility first. I have too much work. I know this now deep in my bones because for 18 months, for maybe the first time in my life, I didn't. During the pandemic, I worked from home, had one job, and, because the world was crashing down around us, felt empowered to say "no" to things that were outside of my wheelhouse or job description. Most days, I would accomplish a few meaningful things, but was also able to take my dog for a walk, prepare some lunch, throw in a load of laundry, maybe even schedule a doctor's appointment or swing by the bank or grocery store on my way to get the kids. My house looked decent because I was able to do small things every day in between my meetings and classes and service commitments. I think for a little over a year I had found that elusive balance of work-life motherhood. I was still busy, mind you, but I could breathe. 

This stands in stark contrast to this semester. Spring 2022 has been absolute chaos. I am stressed and over-committed. My to do list is impossible. My house is a mess. Due to the great resignation, which has hit my library hard, I am doing the work of 3 librarians right now. Just for fun and perspective, I typed out a list of my current work responsibilities and it looked like this: 

Running a Biweekly Speaker and Workshop Series
Running a competitive faculty and grad student Fellowship Program
Hiring a post-doctoral fellow
Program Director for Summer Digital Literacy Workshops for secondary teachers
Supervising Program Assistant and Undergraduate Internships
Monthly Digital Matters Reading group/ New Media Studies reading group
Supporting and pursuing Digital Scholarship projects – currently written into 3 grants
Gateway to Learning Workshops for College of Humanities
Digital Library Outreach Monograph
DHU Planning Committee
Reviewing NEH Grants
Serving on a thesis committee 
Advisory Board for IMLS Grant
Political Science Liaison
ULA Advocacy Chair
Library Day on the Hill Co-Chair
Faculty Review Committee
ICPSR Rep
Teaching LEAP
SEBS Chair
Zotero Workshops and Support

This list may not mean a lot if you don't work in academic libraries, but when I look at it, I see someone set up for failure because no one can do that many things in a 40 hour work week. And I hate failing at anything.

In Anne Helen Peterson's fabulous keynote "The Librarians are not Okay" she says, "... if a person’s body can only create one widget a day, and they’re paid to work five days a week, and they’re told they must create seven widgets — something’s gotta break, the number of widgets or the employee’s body and health. You’ve all been breaking yourselves to do more. And it has to stop, no matter how much of a failing it might feel like to cut back on a part of your work that felt essential."

On that note, I will save this post and look back hopefully in a few months proud I made it through and of the ways I've been able to say "no" in the pending months. Stay strong, friends. 

March Madness

I suspect if you found all my blog posts around the first half of March, they would all say the same thing. I'm tired of winter. This year, I'm feeling that "tired of winter" extra since we just got a huge amount of snow in the past week and I'm back to putting my kids in full snow regalia. Apparently Ashton rebelled at daycare yesterday and refused to put on his snow pants, which means he sat in the office during outdoor play time. I'm not even mad at him. I get it. I'm done too, buddy. 

I had every intention on journaling my weight loss journey through winter, but a few things happened, some of which are already in the blog. My family caught covid. Legislative session. I started a new job. My basement flooded. Houseguests upon houseguests. There's always something. But I've still been able to lose a steady amount of weight. On January 1 I was 149 pounds. Today I'm 141, but I've been as low as 140. I still have not broken that 140 barrier, which I'm starting to think of as this impenetrable force. It's infuriating. I'm starting to feel a new surge of motivation though with impending trips and warm weather. We're going to Vegas at the end of this month, California next month, Mexico in June, Texas in July. Plenty of bathing suit and dress up opportunities. 

Mostly though, I just want winter to go away. I am so ready for yellow flowers and warm air, muddy spring hikes, and budding trees. 

Our covid Story (Part 2)

I'll start this post with the asterisk I added to my last post. Ashton did end up eventually testing positive for covid. After six days in quarantine with our family, he tested positive. No symptoms. Maybe a slight runny nose but it's hard to tell because Ashton's nose is runny much of the time. But here's the kicker. Because he didn't test positive until six days after quarantine started, and unvaccinated kids need to stay home ten days after their positive test, Ashton is out of school for 17 days this month. And he was never ever sick. I get it. I know we need to slow the spread of covid and I can't send him back infectious to a classroom of unvaccinated 3-5 year olds, but 17 days of quarantine does feel... long. 

Today is the 16th day of quarantine, and I've had a lot of time to think about covid, the last two years, and how our family adapts to covid moving forward now that every one of us has some level of immunity ranging from my own "super immunity" (booster + infection) to Ashton's recent infection. These last two years have been hard and made so much harder due to the politics and polarization of covid. I don't know if I've walked the tightrope of balancing physical safety with mental health perfectly, but I did my best. Even in the earliest days of the pandemic, I took my kids outside everyday to parks and hikes. We did more arts and crafts at home than I had done in my 14 years of parenting prior. When restrictions loosened in May 2020, we started gymnastics at Little Gym again. I remember Ashton's first class back, we were the only people there and every class was like a private class for a month. I kept buying merchandise from Little Gym like leotards, water bottles, and masks because I was genuinely worried they wouldn't stay in business. Not long after, maybe July 2020, we started swim lessons at SwimKids. They were one on one, the teachers were masked, and, again, hardly anyone was there. My rationale was that based on data, my kids were far more likely to die by drowning than covid. We did lessons for almost a year and by Summer 2021 started just swimming at Uncle Rob's twice a week. There were a lot of things the kids and I did freely: parks, Red Butte Garden, hiking, This is the Place, Hogle Zoo, sledding, outdoor playdates. There were other things we did more sparingly when cases were low: trampoline parks, movie theaters, the aquarium, indoor playdates (post-vaccination). At each stage of the pandemic, we've moved towards normalcy, which, of course, got a big bump when everyone we knew over 18 was vaccinated. Grandparents coming back at Easter 2021 was one of the most meaningful steps towards post-pandemic life. Aidan and then Harper getting vaccinated were two more big ones. 

And now we're here in January 2022. Vaccines have been universally available in the US for almost a year. You can get a booster at the drop of a hat if you want one. Every one of us in my immediate family has antibodies of some sort. We've had Omicron and it was even more mild than I thought it would be. 

Yet when you start considering whether it's time for your individual family to start moving forward, you get a giant giant lash of "just because you're done with covid, doesn't mean it's done with you!" Okay, probably not. It's an endemic virus. I'm not saying go back to 2019. We're better at washing our hands and staying home when we're sick. When required or appropriate, we'll wear a mask. When Ashton can get vaccinated, and when we're eligible for boosters we'll get them. But... what else? How much more life and joy should we sacrifice in the name of a virus that we are, quite simply, just going to have to learn to live with? 

A pox upon our house (our covid story)

We made it so far. Two years of living in a pandemic but never truly being of the pandemic. Two years of adjustments and sacrifices and vaccines and masks and social distancing and canceled plans without any actual virus. But this week, our number was up. That fast-moving son of a B Omicron evaded our vaccines and got us. I still don't know exactly how. We did risky things over the holidays. Family was in town and stayed with us for two whole weeks. We rode the Polar Express and went to Hale Center Theater to watch A Christmas Carol. We saw Hamilton, went skiing, and attended Christmas Eve service at our church. And nothing. As always. Like the last two years, we were just fine. 

And then somehow, two weeks later, when we were taking no risks whatsoever outside of school and work, it came. Harper woke up on Friday with a runny nose. Just the slightest runny nose, not even something that would have given me pause about sending her to school in the before time. But it was Friday, which was a Grandma pickup day, and I am always more cautious when we know we'll see grandparents. And Omicron was raging, which led to everyone saying in casual conversation, "covid is everywhere right now." So my caution was heightened, and I decided to give Harper a rapid test before school. Positive. Really? Did not expect that, especially the month after she was fully vaccinated. 

First came the calls. Harper was actually totally fine, playing happily and energetically in the front room so I got to the list. I called Dilworth to let them know she tested positive and wouldn't be coming to school. I emailed BioKids to let them know Ashton was exposed and wouldn't be coming in. They let me know if he tested positive in the next three days, they would have to close BioKids. Yeesh. No pressure having the childcare of twenty families hanging in the balance of Ashton's unvaccinated immune system. I texted Grandma to let her know she wouldn't be picking up Harper today and should steer clear of us for awhile. I texted the other grandma for equity of information. I rapid tested me and Ashton. Negative. Negative. Phew. I texted Little Gym to let them know Harper and Ashton wouldn't be at dance or gymnastics that week. I called my doctor to cancel an ophthalmologist appointment. I emailed my boss to let him know the situation, changed my auto-reply at work, and went about the business of canceling my classes and meetings for at least the next five days. I emailed Ashton's speech therapist and let her know he would miss Friday speech class, and used the Remind App to let Harper's aftercare know she wouldn't be there. I went into CVS's vaccine appointment system and cancelled Aidan's Sunday covid booster because he had been exposed. When Aidan woke up, I told him to text work to see what he should do. His school was already online so no need to check in with them. I reflect on the fact that this is the invisible mental load of motherhood. 

After the calls, came the feelings. Is Harper okay now but on the precipice of being really sick? Even if she doesn't get really sick, will the lingering virus cause long covid, diabetes, or some terrible thing we don't even know about yet? What about Ashton? He's not even vaccinated. Will he be okay if he catches it? Should we keep them apart? What in the world would that even look like? 

But swirling in with the worry (I am vast, I contain multitudes), I would be lying if there wasn't a tiny part of me that was relieved. After all this time, the other shoe had dropped. Two years of being worried about catching covid, maybe we could just get this over with. None of us are particularly high risk, all but one of us are vaccinated, and statistically, Ashton should be fine. We hadn't seen the grandparents in a week and with faster moving Omicron, it's unlikely any of us could have spread the virus at that point. Maybe this supposedly milder strain would protect us from future variants and paired with our vaccines we would be one step closer to a normal life. 

Four days later, the "fine" part of me has triumphed over the worry. On Friday, Harper had a runny nose and fever; she was lethargic and, at its worst, her temp briefly spiked to 102.7. This whole thing lasted, literally, less than 12 hours. Runny nose in morning, sick in the afternoon, 100% fine by bedtime. It was almost like the virus entered her body, and the vaccine kicked it out as suddenly as it came. We talked to Harper about how her body had the instructions to fight the virus as soon as it recognized it, and she was proud of her body. Maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part or confirmation bias, but it certainly felt that way to me. Assuming she tests negative on Tuesday, she should be more or less ready to exit quarantine by Wednesday. 

On the Friday where Harper was sick, I was the lucky recipient of many sneezes and coughs directly to the face, and Sunday I woke up with what felt like a head cold. I knew I had caught Harper's 'rona even though the first test came back negative. I wasn't very sick on Sunday, but I was tired and had what felt like a light head cold. It's frustrating to be tired because I have so much to do, but I did lay in bed for five hours on Sunday watching Emily in Paris and that felt unbelievably decadent. Monday I woke up nose still running, voice hoarse, but full of energy. Pretty much same today. Not sure how long this runny nose will linger, but I'm okay so long as I don't feel super sick. 

Robert, Ashton, and Aidan are all still fine.* In fact, Aidan's work says since he is vaccinated, asymptomatic, and testing negative, he should still come into work. It feels a bit fraught to me, but keeps Aidan's life somewhat normal. I guess the wheels of capitalism still need to spin, and if everyone who was exposed stopped coming to work, everything would grind to a halt pretty quickly this month. We're not done with quarantine. We never kept anyone apart because that felt like a fool's errand, but I am sleeping downstairs with Harper and Robert is sleeping upstairs with Ashton to separate the covid positives from negatives at least at bedtime. I've started to wonder if Ashton had covid at some other point because he has been with Harper all day (mostly, not going to lie, watching TV), everyday since this started. Or he's Superman. One or the other. 

Our personal experience with covid stands in such stark contrast to the havoc it's wrecked on society. On a scale of 1-10, this sickness for us has been like a 2. I doubt I would have even missed a day of work for this in normal times. Harper would have stayed home Friday and been back at school Monday. It wouldn't have even stuck in our memory as a time we were sick. And yet, this same virus has killed over 850,000 Americans in less than two years. It has decimated our supply chains and social fabric. It has made my kids' schools missing or masked for two years. The gulf between knowing covid is super dangerous and having experienced it as so mild is dissonant to say the least. It gives me some degree of empathy for families who have suffered tremendous losses financially, educationally, and otherwise, over what... a cold? Standing next to that visceral, human reaction, is just plain gratitude and humility. I know our experience with covid was a lucky one. So many families have lost loved ones, often unnecessarily because of vaccine hesitancy. There are so many others who due to age or circumstance, haven't fared as well. Keeping all these seemingly contradictory thoughts inside one's head is difficult. And I want to sit in that discomfort because it makes me understand why our society is at such an intractable place right now. I understand people who have both said we've overreacted and underreacted to this virus. Paradoxically, if everyone says you're doing it wrong, maybe you've actually found the best possible balance. 

To recap what I do know: Harper, symptoms started Friday, tested positive Friday, if testing negative can be out of quarantine tomorrow. Me, symptoms started Sunday, tested positive Monday, out of quarantine Friday. Ashton, Aidan, and Robert have immune systems made of steel. 

* Not long after I wrote this, Ashton tested positive as well. He hasn't been sick, maybe a slight runny nose. But since he didn't test positive until Wednesday, the 19th, he's not allowed back at daycare until January 31. More than two weeks out of daycare, and he was never even sick. Thanks, covid. 

The honeymoon continues

I love this diet so much. Seriously, it's amazing. It's Day 14 (really like Day 11, but we'll count from January 1).  I started the new year at 149.4, and today weighed in at 144.8. Almost 5 pounds in 2 weeks! I keep saying this, but I know the beginning of a diet after eating literally whatever one wants for two years is going to produce quick results and in a week or two, I'll be fighting for every lost pound. But aren't I entitled to enjoy this while it lasts? I've been eating three big, healthy meals every day but haven't strayed from the Clean Simple Eats meal plan at all except for adding red wine with dinner. 

I know that weight is just a number, but there is one interim victory that means a lot to me and that's breaking the 140 pound barrier. In 2019, my weight varied between 130-138 during the year. Then the pandemic hit and the scale immediately jumped. While my weight has varied between 140-149 over the past two years, I have never once been back in the 130's since the pandemic started. While I know I shouldn't put too much emotional weight (no pun intended) into what's on the scale, seeing 139 will feel like I've taken an important step to getting back on track. 

In the meantime, this is the point where it's also important to start measuring non-scale victories because the scale is going to start moving a lot slower now that the initial "slippery five" is off. And I do have to admit, scale notwithstanding, I feel amazing over the past two weeks. I'm full of energy, feeling less cravings, listening to my body, and feeling more confident already. I'm never hungry but also never too full, just always satiated and energized. I haven't tried wearing jeans again, but I feel like my stretchy pants are fitting better (yes, my stretchy pants were feeling tight, the ultimate indignity). Right now in Utah, coronavirus is absolutely raging (over 12,000 cases yesterday), and while I can't control the surge, I feel like being vaccinated and working on my own health puts me in the best possible position should I encounter the virus. I'm making tons of new recipes, some of which are downright incredible, and learning to sub more healthy ingredients for less healthy ones. So many little victories. 

Week 1 and done

Hello, friends. I'm one week into 2022 and riding the euphoria of a new lifestyle challenge. Back in 2019 (a million, bajillion years ago), Noom taught me many things, one of which was "The Motivation Stages." According to their handy chart (see below), I am currently in the hype, or perhaps honeymoon, stage. Either way, it's a high motivation stage of my wellness journey. On January 1, I weighed in at 149.4, and today, January 8, I weighed in at 146.0 without ever having felt hungry the entire week. I just ate super healthy, reasonably portioned meals and lost over three pounds. I even had a small glass of wine while cooking most nights. Oh, the honeymoon stage is sweet. I've been on this ride enough times to know you lose that slippery weight in the beginning and that the next couple weeks I may hit that frustrating plateau where I stay in a calorie budget, hit my daily step count, and the scale doesn't budge. But then if I stick with it long enough and layer in additional healthy habits, the scale will move in the right direction once more. 

The Noom Motivation Stages

I noticed something interesting this last week that happens the first week of every January and yet feels especially ubiquitous this year. It's this giant wave of pushback against diet culture, that, while well-intentioned, feels like it veers into diet shaming. And I completely understand why. Diet culture can be incredibly toxic, rooted in misogyny, and fueled by a capitalistic impulse to make you feel bad enough about yourself to pay someone money to fix any perceived shortcoming. I've fallen prey to this in the past including deprivation diets, wrinkle creams, gym memberships, and unsustainable lifestyle changes, and I know how futile and harmful it can be both to your wallet and self-esteem. 

But I also know the vast and varied benefits of a healthy lifestyle. Eating real food and the right amount of it that makes you feel fueled instead of full. Getting over 8 hours of sleep a night. Joyful movement. Managing stress levels. Drinking enough water. These are valid, achievable goals, not some evil plot hatched by the diet-industrial complex. And after the decadence of the holidays, New Years has always felt like a wonderful time for a reset. And there are excellent tools, some of which cost money, to help you along the way. I adore the Noom app, which guides you step by step to a healthy lifestyle using the psychology of eating. Another amazing company is Clean Simple Eats, whose protein powders are yummy and seven-week challenges are social and fun. I love my $30 step tracker that gamifies my walking every day and gives purpose to taking the stairs or making the extra laundry trip. 

So there is this tension between wanting a healthy lifestyle and wanting to make sustainable change with a chorus of voices telling you that you're fine the way you are and that new years resolutions are just another form of self-loathing. Sometimes it feels like code words are the differentiator. If I say "diet," the thing I'm doing is bad. If I say "health and wellness," it's good. But that feels wrong too. Isn't your "diet" merely the food and drink you consume? And couldn't a predatory company use the term "health and wellness" to sell you on an unsustainable lifestyle that doesn't serve you wrapped up in modern verbiage? If I set my intention on good, healthy habits in 2022, does it really matter if I call it a diet (which, I admit, is a loaded term) or something else? 

Anyway, I think we need to stop acting like all changes around food and exercise in the New Year are inherently bad or inherently good. Methods, motivations, and expectations matter. Are your methods healthy for your body? Are they based on medically sound and time-tested principles like eating vegetables and getting more sleep? Is it something you could do for the rest of your life? What is your "why"? Are you changing yourself for approval? To meet some impossible beauty standard? As a rule of thumb, if you are dieting to please others, your efforts seemed doom from the start. 

What are my "whys" this time around? I've thought about this a lot so I'm glad I'm taking a second to write it down. Some of these reasons are certainly more noble than others, but they've all fueled my motivation this week and hopefully will help push me through the inevitable plummet and slips and surges ahead.

My Whys

1. To feel strong and healthy. 

2. To play with my kids. 

3. To do the things I love like hiking, yoga, and snowboarding. 

4. So that my clothes fit again. I have invested too much money in my closet for those clothes to go to waste. 

5. To give me energy to run the 14-hour marathon that is my life every single day. 

6. To protect against illness and disease. I never really thought about this before, but this pandemic has brought into stark relief the real health risks of obesity. 

7. To feel confident. I admit this motivation feels suspect. Shouldn't I feel confident at any weight? Yes. But I also need to be honest that I just don't. Internalized misogyny is real. 

8. To model healthy habits for my kids. At Harper's 6 year checkup last week the doctor asked her favorite vegetable, and she replied "chicken nuggets." So yes, a change is in order. 

There's more reasons to be sure, but those are the ones I come back to again and again. I'll keep checking in as I go, and maybe this post will serve as a reminder of my big whys along the way. 

Take care, my friends. Love you.