Automatic Pilot

Years ago, when I was studying for my PhD exams and thus doing a lot of procrastinatory reading, I indulged in one of those fabulously long New Yorker articles about something you don't particularly think you're interested in, but the writing draws you in despite the topic (I lost the better part of a week in college to a 3-part piece about interstate trucking).

This happened to be a piece about pilots, and how airline pilots learn to fly, how difficult it is to get the hours in the air required for a commercial pilot's license unless you're in the military first (or independently wealthy). And while I was absorbed in the piece, I mentioned it to a friend, whose dad was a commercial pilot at the time, and he said that while of course there's a lot of complicated work involved in flying a plane, in some ways, once you've got that big bird up in the air, it's kind of like driving a bus. And I found that so comforting, somehow. I've never been terribly afraid of flying, but it always used to make me feel a bit anxious, like I needed to concentrate very hard to keep the plane aloft. But now, after the take-off is accomplished and the plane's leveled off, I tend to relax and think, "Automatic pilot. Like driving a bus."

Having spent 11 hours on planes yesterday, and today feeling the effects of the 10-hour time difference I crossed, I've been thinking a lot about automatic pilot, and how much I wish I could engage it right now. Of course, pilots don't use it when they are tired, but to avoid getting tired. They can set the course and relax a bit, knowing that they don't have to concentrate for five or ten solid hours on each little adjustment required to keep a plane in the air. Now I'm not saying that my life here at home is quite like keeping a plane flying, and I'm not responsible for 300 people in this house, but the two people I do share responsibility for are reacting to their jet lag with an astonishing relentlessness, requiring continual food and drink and books and thoughtful responses to incessant "why" questions (Eli will not be brushed off with "Because" right now) and tape and markers and help with lego creations. They are very happy, and very energetic, and --unlike most days when they will go off and play by themselves for a little while and even (Eli anyway) nap for a couple hours in the middle of it--requiring a lot of participation and witnessing to their play, while I just want to curl up in a ball and nap. Why don't they? That's my why question for the day.

I guess the auto-pilot system for parenting is called a babysitter. With all the plans I made for this trip, that's one that slipped through the cracks. Next time.

Desktop

We're on the verge of leaving town, but this post by MomBrain inspired me to stop packing and puttering and organizing for a minute and just take a bloggy little snapshot of my desk. Here's what it holds:

A tube of hand cream and some lip stuff, because a girl can't write if she's distracted by chapped lips and dry hands

A lumpy black rock that fits perfectly in the palm of my hand, from a beach near Seattle

A green resin bracelet made by my late father-in-law (clanks the keyboard too much to write with it on)

A box of tissues

A box of ginger altoids

An empty box of ginger altoids filled with paperclips (and yes, I do reach for the wrong one all the time, and yet I don't feel the need to mark them in any way. It's my little daily surprise.)

A Venetian glass quill pen and a tiny bottle of blue ink, a birthday present from friends when it looked like I was going to make a go of this writing thing

2 pink ribbons with red, heart-shaped Cancer Is A Bitch dog tags on them, plus an early copy of the book, my friend Gail Konop Baker's amazing memoir

A parking ticket

A list of things I can't forget to do before we leave town: grab the boys' loveys from their beds; take the garage door opener out of the car and leave it for the woman who is house sitting; turn off the computers and printers; pack airplane snacks...

Encouraging notes from my guys: a picture of the sun from Tony, 3 colorful splotches from Eli, and "I hope you feel better!" from Ben

Review copies of The Dinner Diaries by Betsy Block and Opting In: Having a Child Without Losing Yourself by Amy Richards, books on subjects near and dear to my heart

A red clay heart that Ben made for me in preschool

A copy of my book proposal; a copy of a friend's book proposal; a copy of an essay I'm trying to write

An empty glass of water. Come to think of it, I'm thirsty!

Guidebooks

We're leaving for a big vacation in a few days, and so Tony and I have been reading a lot of guidebooks:



Apparently, Ben thought he could do just as well:

We have a winner!

But don't let that stop you from posting a review on Amazon -- there'll be more great prizes coming later this summer.

Mama, PhD: The Giveaway

Did you hear about the Mama, PhD gear? We've got t-shirts, of course, and hats and bags, but did you also know we have the all-important license plate holders and beer steins at our Cafe Press shop? Sure, why not?

So as long as we're making all this stuff, I'll be giving some away to faithful readers every once in a while. Today, I've got one men's large Mama, PhD t-shirt for the first person to post a brief review of the book on our Amazon page. And by brief, I do mean brief; if all you have in you is "Nice cover!" then I'll be satisfied with that. I'm just looking for a little action over there. Post your blurb, send me the link, and you get a cozy t-shirt, good for a nightshirt, beach cover up, or a gift to the Mama, PhD-supporting man in your life.

And next month, maybe I'll give away a stein!

First Tomato (Sandwich)

Libby's recent column over at Literary Mama brought me back to one of my favorite series, the Bunny Planet books by Rosemary Wells. In each one, a bunny is having a pretty lousy day until the Bunny Queen, Janet, whisks the animal off to the Bunny Planet for "the day that should have been."

I've always identified most with the hapless Claire, who doesn't get a good breakfast and whose shoes fill with snow on the way to school; she has to sit through two hours of math at school (no matter how long the math lesson was, it always felt like two hours to me), is served baloney sandwiches for lunch, and then is the only girl in her gym class who can't do a cartwheel: this sounds like any number of bad days in my childhood!

Luckily, in the Bunny Planet, it's summer and Claire is home, where she can pick vegetables from her garden and then hang out in the kitchen watching her mother cook -- this, in turn, sounds like any number of good days from my childhood.

Claire's mother makes her soup from the summer's first tomato, but I think my mother would agree that the best thing to do with the very first tomato is a sandwich, and that's what I made today: just one sliced tomato, on toast, with some mayonnaise, salt and pepper. Yum.


I ate mine too fast to take a picture; this image is from Out of the Garden

Mama, PhD: The Movie

Yes, it's true, the book's been out a couple weeks now (though we're not yet at our official publication date), the blog's been going for a couple of months, and even the store is doing some brisk business in Mama, PhD gear. Clearly it was time for the next step (clearly Elrena either had a pressing deadline, or had just a bit of time on her hands!):