Ear surgery and fooling the brain

I wrote about discovering my hearing impairment in my post about paranoia and motherhood. This year, I finally committed to the surgery to correct the problem, and the results have surprised me at many levels.

The world is louder. At first, startling so.  For a week after the surgery, I had to close my eyes to regain my bearings. But I would also stop, mesmerized, to listen to water fountains gurgle and awake to the patter of rain through double-planed glass. Six weeks later, I still cannot hear the birds twittering outside with my fixed ear, but I was not expecting perfect hearing from the surgery.

My home, on the other hand, is quieter. Not only because the kids have been making the effort not to aggravate mamãe's sensitive ears, but also because I am not instigating the loud behavior by raising my voice unconsciously. I hope we can maintain this newfound volume, and the added politeness that seems to stroll hand-in-hand with it.

Other changes are temporary, I was told (and truly hope). Apparently, the taste nerve meanders through the surgery site on its way to the brain. I woke up from anesthesia with the sensation that my mouth had been burned by hot tea, a feeling that has not dissipated over the weeks. I had been told to expect a metallic taste that could linger for three to four months, but for me, the taste resembled licorice--Pastis liquor to be exact--on the left side of my tongue. After a month, the flavor of salty tears replaced the licorice, prominently by my lower lip.

As can be expected, my disturbed taste has changed how I perceive standard foods and beverages, and some of my favorite dishes clash horribly with the odd flavors my brain combines with them. Instead of feeling annoyed, I decided to call it amusing. If my taste nerve can fool my brain, maybe so can I.

Middle grade books for elementary school kids

My sons are seven and nine, with overactive imaginations and slapstick humor like kids their age seem wired to have. As much as they enjoy living vicariously the rough days of a wimpy middle-schooler, they are more than ready to embark on wild, fantastical adventures, be it on the Hogwarts Express or through a portal to Narnia. Quick trips in a magic tree house still entertain my younger son, but the older one needs more volumes in a story--as long as there isn't much kissing. Even though he reads above grade level, he is as interested in relationships as James Bond.

Of the many books people have pitched my older son's way, Rick Riordan's novels always score. And not just due to my son sharing Percy Jackson's dyslexia. Be it Greek or Egyptian, Riordan's take on gods among earthlings mingles enough reality into his stories for suspension of disbelief, while keeping the peril fantastical enough not to give nightmares. That sense of safety in reality is essential for my son. The later Harry Potter books do not scare him, but the kidnapping during Halloween in the opening of the Five Kingdoms series did. He found it was a lot easier to empathize with kids that get into adventurous trouble because they are supernatural than because they did something stupid. Whether he was conscious that the kids' behavior in Sky Raiders was of the kind that fuels helicopter parenting, I'm not certain. But after reading three chapters aloud together, we had to set the book aside.

The fidgeting is the first sign of discomfort, which can develop into cartwheels or brash declarations of "I'm too tired" from a kid who has choosen not to go to sleep voluntarily since he was old enough to open his eyes. My counter-tactics alternate between stopping to discuss the issue, sending him to bed, and plowing on through Harry's jitters whenever he tried to talk to Cho. Even after watching the movie, my son was not prepared for the crush-related angst of the Order of the Phoenix. On the other hand, Harry kissing Ginny in the Half-Blood Prince was, as for the boy at the end of The Princess Bride, not a problem.

Maybe my kids will feel the universe shift when they meet a new classmate in forth grade, or watch their crush kiss their frenemy from a rooftop balcony when they are thirteen. For now, I am happy that they still want to read aloud with me, even if what we end up discussing is toilet papyrus and Egyptians walking sideways. Rick Riordan, thank you for the connection.

Green paint and sadness

Last night I came home to bright green paint splattered all over the clothes in the dryer. Not uniformly dyed like the pink spacesuit from the "Despicable Me" movie; a crap-hit-the-fan kind of mess. One of the soccer jerseys my dad brought back from Brazil was the culprit, but throwing the offending shirt in the trash did not prevent the tears I needed to shed.

Dada's response was to buy new ones. But these were the new ones--mine, his, and the kid's. I at least had to try to wash off the stains and maybe recover some of them, because I knew I wasn't crying over a dryer mishap. My father-in-law is dying. His speedy deterioration over the past few months has tugged at everyone's heartstrings. But just as it is a lot easier to focus my emotions on imaginary characters whose fate is at the tip of my fingers, it is also safer to cry over spilled milk and paint stains, which are much less overwhelming.

This morning most of the clothes had lost their offending green streaks. Not all of them, so I wouldn't be tempted to rescue the conniving jersey from the trash bin. This means I will be looking for other silly everyday catastrophes to unburden the pain welled up inside me. I cannot mourn a loved one still with us; those tears have to wait.

Thoughts on reading

Ever since I started writing, I have been reading less. My spare time is limited, so I need to choose between the hobbies I enjoy. I scrapbook less too, and movie watching is a rare event. When I ask myself what I would rather do, most often the answer is write.

I used to read books just for the pleasure of being immersed in a story, but nowadays it takes more from a book to retain my interest. If the writing doesn't grab me, I put the book down and pick a different activity. I do not find myself waiting for things to get better. I have been using the Kindle sample feature a lot -- reading the first pages before buying the book. There seems to be no point in purchasing a book if the story does not hold my interest to the end of the sample.

Not only do I read less, but I noticed I read differently nowadays. I am looking at form, not just inhaling content. I pay attention to word choices and descriptions that I used to just skim over. I ask myself what makes me keep reading or why I feel like putting the book down. There is much more to a book than just the story it tells. How the tale is told makes all the difference.

A whole new world

There are some things you just do not wake up one day and decide to do. I never decided to be a scientist. I liked biology and math, so biology seemed like the logical major to follow. I also liked history, but my attraction to history seemed more of a hobby than a profession. I enjoyed doing research in the lab, so I continued that type of work all these years.

I never woke up one day and decided to write a novel. I did wake up many times in college with stories in my head that just needed to make their way into my journals. I needed to stop thinking about them and writing them down was the quickest way to get closure. However, one of those short stories kept nudging my mind like a recurring dream for years. I started giving it a setting to flourish and before I realized it I had created a world for it to inhabit - not just a planet but a whole galaxy.

It took me years to take those words out of the journal and type them. It took me months to fill in the gaps and create the whole picture. And now there are seventy five thousand words staring at me. Twice the length of my dissertation.Where it goes from here only time will tell. There is a whole new world I now need to investigate.

Not here, not there -- where?

It has been a busy year for everyone and, until we figure out how to be in more than one place at once, there will always be a place where we cannot be. As September arrived before I expected and my turn to host the Scientiae Carnival came up, my question was where has everyone not been?

Karina, of Ruminations of an Aspiring Ecologist, has been doing field work for over a year and is ready to not be there anymore. She is desperately trying to finish collecting data for her Ph.D. so she can go home to write her dissertation. She has special plans for the final stages of her Ph.D. and it includes having a kid. Another Ph.D. student, Rowena of PhD Journey: fire, kids, erosion, turned the final stage of her Ph.D. into a vacation by treating herself to a writing retreat.

Removing all extraneous workloads such as cleaning, cooking and kid wrangling frees the mind for flowing words and  thoughtful ideas.

If you are not convinced by this idea, check out her photos and I believe you will change your mind. Speaking of photos, Alyssa, of Apple Pie and The Universe, said she discovered that she has not been 22 for ten years and was surprised to realize she looks older than she feels.

Science Girl has been in a spinning wheel of work and family obligations and she feels that she is not fully anywhere -- with a toddler in tow. Another toddler mom, Melissa of Confused at a Higher Level, has a list of all the choices of where not to be she had to make this past month. She also has a great parody of Green Eggs and Ham; my favorite part is:

There is but only one of me,
I can’t do more, oh don’t you see.
I cannot be both here and there,
I simply can’t be everywhere.

Penny sent me a link to her friend's blog who suffers from an unknown medical condition, the name of which is just not there. The search for this elusive name has even directed her career choices and hobbies. Biochem Belle talks about juggling at work and having to put her hobbies, such as blogging, on a halt to focus on all the other things that are going on.

There are many days that I wish I had more time (or minions) so I could do more. With the amount of work I’m juggling, sometimes a ball drops—some experiment is postponed, the apartment isn’t cleaned as well as I’d like, my husband and I forfeit a day together…

Likewise, I have not been blogging over here very much, but for the opposite reason. In the past I have mostly posted here when I am stressed, but nowadays it has been hard to put the stress into words. Instead, I have been letting the other side of my brain express itself and distract me so I can focus on the everyday tasks instead of worrying about past, present and future. As experiments get more and more frustrating, most of my accomplishments are at my other blog. Some days I worry my hobbies are taking over my life, other days I think I am OK with that.

35, Oh My!

May is a birthday month - a large percentage of my family celebrate their birthday this month, myself included. When I am in Brazil it is a month full of parties, my family loves excuses to get together and be together. The phone rings all day with calls from well-wishers; my e-mail is full of happy messages.

However, among all the messages and presents, the birthday data was the best of all. After eight months of optimizing the assay and setting up the screen, then the four months of screening of less than half of the population, I was getting worried that I was wasting my time and effort. Oh the joy of seeing ten candidates emerge after two days of struggling with data analysis was very encouraging - especially with the conference I am attending coming up in two weeks!

This birthday is a big one, even though it is not the big one. I feel the impact of 35, but I was not dreading the date as I did before I turned 30. I now have many things to celebrate, such as two adorable sons, a big house and a job for the next four years. My life seems stable enough, my project seems to be coming together. I still want things, but I do not feel like I need anything - other than first author publications...

Traveling with toddlers

Last month we took a two week vacation to Italy. Dada had a conference there and we decided to make a family trip out of it. We left ten days before the conference, and my mother joined us for the second (and conference) week, which luckily coincided with her Spring Break.

It was not the first time we traveled with the boys. We had taken them sailing in the Chesapeake Bay for a week back in 2008, we had visited my extended family in Brazil in 2009, and last Christmas we went to England for ten days. Planes are not a challenge, unless we fail to convince the kids to go to sleep. However, this was the first time we did not stay at someone's house - this was the first hotel trip. 

Staying at hotels was not a problem, we found several that had triple and quadruple rooms that let you add a baby crib (sometimes free of charge). We took the trip slow, not expecting to see twenty cities in ten days. We spent our whole first week in Venice so we could actually enjoy it. The first couple of days were mellow, with only one tourist attraction before lunch and nap time. But by the end of the week we managed to see three small museums in a single day!

The kids enjoyed themselves immensely and if you ask my four year old he will tell you the armory in the Doge Palace in Venice was his favorite place. My two year old was completely in awe of the fresco ceilings at the Basilica of St. Marco. After that he would look up every time he entered a room, just to make sure he was not missing anything. By the time we got to the conference site they were ready to be kids and hit the play park all day long.

We did not run into many problems, at least none that we could not work around. We realized that lunch and dinner out was too taxing on the boys, so we had lunch at a restaurant then a picnic dinner in our hotel room more than half the time. We tried to incorporate nap time every day, even if some days it was a little later than normal. We tried to focus on what we got to see, not what we were missing.

Apparently traveling with toddlers is not a common thing to do. I lost count of the number of people that called us brave throughout the trip. I am glad we introduced our kids to traveling early, and that it has not been too difficult. Dada and I love traveling, and there are still so many places to go, so many things to see... And academic vacations are such a great excuse!

Holiday Traditions

This weekend we took down the dead tree and the decorations from our front porch. We made turkey soup with the frozen carcass leftover from Thanksgiving. We cleaned the house and did laundry - removing the last traces of our winter vacation. The end-of-year holidays are officially over...

Through the years we have slowly accumulated a series of traditions at our house. We celebrate the holidays with feasts for Thanksgiving and Christmas. We light Hanukkah candles (most) nights, we decorate a Christmas tree with a Star of David on top (like them), and we head out of town for a family vacation the last week of the year. Many of these are a blend of practices that Dada and I enjoyed while growing up, while others came about perchance - like shelling half a bushel of oysters as a prelude to our Thanksgiving dinner.

I grew up Jewish, with an emphasis on the -ish. The non-practicing secular kind that recounts the history but shuns the religion. I had great-grandfathers from both sides that broke off with Judaism as a religion but brought up their family respecting and propagating its traditions. We always celebrated the food holidays, and for me being Jewish has always been associated with the flavors and smells from my grandmother's kitchen - dishes that I attempt to recreate at my own home, thus passing on these traditions to the next generation.

Dada is not religious either, his parents having deserted their church-of-choice during the civil rights movement. Throughout his early years they celebrated the Christmas holidays with a family vacation - most likely bare-boat sailing in the Caribbean. Their holiday practices also include a mountain of presents, accumulated throughout the year - as well as anything else that can be wrapped for the occasion. I found this assortment of gifts overwhelming at first - as much as two weeks on a 40-foot boat with my future in-laws. However, now this sea of presents has even engulfed my parents, despite the "small gift for you, big gift to share" philosophy they had while I was growing up.

We have always celebrated Christmas at my house by feasting with relatives and receiving presents at midnight. Santa did not seem to care that we were Jewish. I was in my teens before I realized that there was a religious aspect of the holiday for which we were not accounting, as the word for Christmas in Portuguese - Natal - has no Christ in it. I always assumed my mother preferred her craft projects over an expensive plastic tree - and they were definitely fun to make. I never experienced any sense of guilt for enjoying Christmas, or receiving chocolate eggs from the Easter Bunny for that matter. I never felt constrained over what we could celebrate or what we could not. We enjoyed the holidays with no strings attached, and this is a tradition I want to make sure I pass on to my kids.

Docking at low tide

A loss, even when expected, is still a loss.

My grandfather was in the hospital for the past few weeks, battling a pneumonia that would not respond to antibiotics. At 96, the effort to heal exhausted him and breathing became difficult. To ease his suffering, he was sedated and put on a respirator for the past week. He continued to heal, and we waited. The sadness and anxiety were overwhelming at times - especially across the equator. The fear of not seeing him again, or hearing his voice on the phone while he tried to get a word in between my grandmother's chatter, constricted my throat and sent tears to my eyes. But we should not mourn the living...

The image that came to me again and again this past week was of our sailing trip last year. We spent a week sailing on the Chesapeake Bay with my in-laws. On the last day the wind waned and to make it to harbor at a decent time to drive back to their house, we brought down the sails and motored home. When we arrived the tide was too low to dock, so we sat in the cockpit waiting for the tide to rise enough to get into our slip. We could have been sailing, we should have been on our way home... Instead we were siting around waiting.

Waiting... and thinking - this week in the same manner, not at sea and not at dock. I have been remembering the good moments spent with my grandfather: how happy he was at my wedding; how he enjoyed his last visit to the US, just in time for the birth of my oldest son. I am immensely gratified that Dada and I were able to take the kids to see him in Brazil last May, and celebrate together his 96th birthday. He was having a great year, all four of his great-grandchildren came to visit! Yesterday the doctors decided to take my grandfather off his sedatives and give him a chance to wake up. However, he did not make it - he could not breath on his own. The mingled feeling of sadness and relief can be both numbing and overwhelming. I alternate from a state of tears to a sense of peace in minutes.

He had a life worth remembering, even if all I have are snippets of it in my mind: A veterinarian who hated cats & dogs. He married my grandmother in an arranged marriage, 13 years her senior - she accepted him because he liked tomatoes. He walked around the neighborhood daily, stopping to pull off vines and low branches from the trees in his path to help them grow. He saw a brother exiled for 15 years due to the military dictatorship that took over Brazil, when our famous scientists were kicked out of the country. After he retired he started compiling the history of veterinarians in Brazil, backwards through time - when he reached the early days of colonization he moved on to the rest of South America. He outlived both older and younger brothers. He lived a long life, embraced in a tight-knit family - even when spread across the globe.

After his 96 years of sailing through life, it was time to dock with the tide...

A small collection of forks

Looking back into my early years, there were not many major decisions I had to make, but they most definitely had a distinct impact on how my life has turned out. There were a few major forks in my path, some minor ones, and those daily decisions that can go unnoticed. As much as I am convinced I took the best path, there is no telling if going the other way would have had a positive or negative effect on my life. Albeit, it would certainly be a different life...

My strategy for deciding which path to follow also varied greatly depending on the situation. Most of the time I followed my 80% rule, including the stroll I am taking through the family lane. Nevertheless, some forks presented agonizing choices, which at the time needed stringent consideration and/or alternative tactics. When faced with the decision to continue my education in the US or return to Brazil, I settled the debate with a gamble. When deciding where to pursue my PhD, I followed my heart. In both cases I never looked back, and probably would have made the same choices if faced with similar options.

However, many of the minor choices I made hardly seemed like there was anything to consider at the time, but now I can see how I could have followed a hidden path. The one that comes to mind these days relates to when I fell in love with history of science as a junior in college. I felt that it was too late to become a history major - I was set on a career in biology since high-school. I vaguely remember considering a change of path, but not more than making an off-hand comment to my parents on the phone. Once my Dad pointed out that I could enjoy history as a hobby but that biology was a full-time deal, I was back in gear towards the career I had sought out to pursue. I am happy with my choice, but I always think of history as a "plan B". If I ever need a change... Amazingly, going back to school and taking a different path does not seem scary at all.

And then I heard crack...

I am sure many, if not all, working mothers have these moments. The ones where you are trying to do everything. The days you forget that supermom does not exist. In this particular case, I was trying to hold up the fort so that Dada could get off to work early. He had a huge multicollaborator multinational grant due and labor day weekend was coming up - 3 days without daycare...

So there I was going through the motions of getting the kids to daycare and myself to work, while cleaning up after breakfast and starting laundry. I got the kids downstairs and was putting on their shoes when I noticed I had socks for the wrong boy and was missing a sippy cup. So I tell them I will be right back, run up the stairs, gather what I am missing, and run back - all before the little one can get to the second steps. That is when I panicked - and supermom should never panic.

Baby brother can climb the whole staircase, but he gets so excited that he tends to stand up and say "yay" after every step - potentially falling backwards. Hence, I rushed to get around big brother, who was trying to keep little brother sitting, so I could be behind the little one if he tipped backwards. In my rush I jumped over the last step and heard a crack when my foot hit the tile floor. Fortunately, I did not panic then.

I sat down. I took a deep breath. The kids sat with me. I was asked "Are you OK Mamãe"? I took a deep breath. I got their shoes on. Big brother asked if he could "kiss and make it better". Its healing powers are amazing... I was up - with a bit of pain, but it was bearable. A 2 on the 1-10 scale could be walked on. The day could go on. I took the kids to daycare, got gas for the car, and went to work. Walking into the lab was when sanity started to return - maybe ice would help. By lunchtime I was still icing my foot when Dada called. I declined a lunch outing due to my episode that morning and heard reason shouted in my ear: I heard a crack!

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur. I called my mom to take me to the emergency clinic after Dada threatened to do it himself. I got x-rays, a dorsal fracture, a temporary splint, crutches, and appointment with an orthopedist for the next day*. The next day I got one of those "aircast" boots after another set of x-rays**, with instructions to avoid weight bearing on that foot at all costs. Hence, I was stuck at home for the long holiday weekend -and the following weeks - with Dada being superdad, superhusband and superscientist, and lots of help from my parents who even took the kids out of town for an entire day.

After spending the first week with my foot up or walking on crutches, I really hope the healing process will not take very long. And there is just so much work I can do from home, especially now that I finished the 1,000 Blast searches for our phylogeny paper. The doctor did mention I could be in a walking cast after 2 weeks, so I am keeping my fingers crossed. And I can hardly wait for Dada to get back. Did I mention that he had a conference this week too? I am very glad my parents are in town to help with the kids! This suppermommy is out of commission for a few weeks...



* my insurance is "great" so I needed 2 doctor visits to immobilize.
** didn't I say I had great insurance?

Month in review

First week. July was a month of visitations: we had relatives from Brazil and my in-laws in town. As much as I love my family dearly, it was nice to return to the peace and quiet of our everyday lives. The kids get a bit frantic from being off their normal schedule. Now they can settle into a more constant pattern of school days and home days, knowing what to expect.

I had spent the month of July delving into the notebooks of former students, many of which did not even sign their own name on them. I finally got the (published) experiments figured out and troubleshooted by the time August arrived. It was nice to have my new lab finally set up and be able to focus on experiments.

By the end of the week I got notice that we will be moving across the hall in September to make way for the chemical synthesis project that will be going on in our current lab. I also got a letter from the kids daycare saying they will be closing half an hour earlier, starting a week from now. We told the kids they might be changing school, to try to prepare them. We got two different responses: little brother continues to suck his thumb and assumes we know what we are doing, while big brother decides to make our life miserable in the meantime. There will be no peace this month...

Second week. Dada and I spent two mornings researching and visiting daycares that have extended hours. We really liked the accredited center a block from our house, so on the third day we took the kids for a visit. It went well, so I spent Thursday and Friday mornings there too - transitioning the kids to their new environment. They spent the mornings at the new school, then afternoons at the old one. Big brother is still acting up every morning, but once we get him clothed and in the car he behaves. I think he likes the new school, but after being at the same center for 3 years - since he was born! - the unfamiliarity of the new surroundings is a bit overwhelming.

Of course Mamae here is stressed out too, even re-living her own uprootings from way back when - creeping memories, hidden traumas... but I manage to get myself focused enough at work to keep my experiments going and plan out the new lab layout. I will miss having a window, but I will rejoice leaving the monster chemical hood (and all the noise it makes) behind.

Dada spends the weekend cleaning the house for the big party next week and clashing horns with our 3 year-old. From refusing to wear clothes to a hunger strike, we have a weekend as none before. As much as I remove baby brother from the arena, he gets stressed too. Or maybe more teeth are coming in to join the festivities...

Third week. The kids started officially at the new daycare, everybody is much calmer. We feel assured the change was for the better. Now Dada can focus on the grant he is writing and I can try to get as many experiments wrapped up before they start taking my benches apart.

We hosted a "welcome to grad school" party for Dada's department on Saturday. We had ~40 people over: faculty, students, postdocs and significant others. It is odd being binned with the latter when I was so used to being included in the middle two. I also find it amusing that many of our guests assumed that I did most of the prepping, when in fact all I did was buy the beer and make a salad - then spend the afternoon napping with the kids. The only compliments I did not refute were the ones concerning my well behaved kids. They are indeed a pleasure in company...

Fourth week is about to start... It seems like everything is back under control, but maybe it is too early to count victory. My lab move is scheduled for next week (or the following), so I can get a few more experiments done this week. I can also work on the review I should be writing.

Peace & quiet? I will not give up yet...

Summer thoughts

Ever since I finished my PhD five years ago, my research is not directly affected by the academic calendar - where the year is divided into three terms: football, spring and summer. Living in Florida, where we have warm weather 90% of the year, I can only tell that it is officially summer by the dwindling number of cars on the road when most of the students take off. But research never stops, and my husband and I managed to find a daycare for the kids that is open year-round (and almost all holidays) to avoid the summer lull. Hence, we can work most of the time and also take vacations at random times.

Many of our summer vacations were taken outside the university's official break weeks. Dada's teaching schedule is mainly a month out of a team-taught class, unless he offers a journal club. Mainly we need to plan around his field schedule. I still remember having to plan our wedding in Brazil in between pollinations and harvest. This year we went to Brazil for my grandfather's 96th birthday in mid-May, at the start of the summer term but before pollinations kicked in. Last year we went sailing with the kids on the Chesapeake Bay late August - fall semester had started but planting was done. A few years ago we went to England for a friend's wedding mid September and fall semester was in full swing.

It hit me today that, for the first time in my life, I am not associated with an academic institution. Nevertheless, as the academic calender has not affected my life in the last five years, I don't think I will notice much of a change. Living in a college town, I might still get caught up in the university schedule. However, working on the outskirts of town I might be able to ignore the hustle and bustle on campus. Maybe I'll even escape the football season pandemonium, but that might be hoping for too much...

Dear Ihctap,

As I glanced at you this morning and reminded you to brush your hair, it hit me how crazy our life has become. When I tried to mention it to you, you just rolled your eyes and continued brushing your teeth. You seem to do this to me a lot nowadays - the rolling of the eyes bit. I notice it at the gym, while I try to lose this pregnancy belly that annoys me to no end. I notice it when I try to hide in the bathroom, to get some peace and quiet at the end of the day while chaos breaks out between dinner and bedtime.

Gone are the days when we had time for ourselves - time to play, time to chat. Now I hardly have time to greet you, and some days I wonder if you are still there. Some days I miss you more, miss the time we spent together when we were little. Growing up, you were the one who was always there for me, regardless of where we moved. The girl in the mirror... In our teens we commiserated together when the rest of the world didn't get it. You always understood me, and never told me I wasn't acting my age... even when you pointed out I didn't look it. You used to roll your eyes back then too... (Remember when we were out shopping and the shop assistant would try to tell me things would fit better in a few years when I turned 15? I was 15!)

We've been through so much together! Moving back and forth over the equator, living with family and without. You still insinuate that I don't look old enough to be who I am, or do what I do - and I sure don't think you have aged much either. But we really did make it through college and grad school. We've been hopping from postdoc to postdoc for the last few years in order to keep doing research. And, somehow, that other part of life caught up with us in the meantime... and we managed to integrate it to the scientist's life that we thought could define us by itself.

A scientist, a wife, a mother - you amaze me on a daily basis... I watch your kids playing with my kids, I see your family smiling at mine. I know you will always be there for me, no mater how crazy life turns out to be. You'll keep me focused and heading forward. And when I wonder how I got to this place and time, you'll roll your eyes at me. But if I ever ask you if this is the life I want, please point out the obvious: If I had the choice, I would travel the exact same road again - hindsight and all...

Love,
Patchi

Ihctap & Patchi - best friends

Not an expert

I have changed fields three times since I defended my Ph.D. five years ago. All three changes were pretty drastic - different organisms and subject matter - as far as biochemistry will allow. My major incentive was the new techniques I was setting out to learn. I wanted to expand my tool kit and be able to tackle a problem in different ways. However, deep down, my options were limited by the fact that I did not want to move away from my family. I have learned more than I probably would have if I had moved, but after these five years I am lacking research I can call my own.

When I defended my dissertation on a particular plant family of kinases, I thought of myself as an expert in the field. I was ready to challenge the current model and show the world they needed to think outside the box. I knew the current literature but I could not see my advancement in that field without external input. There were many questions to be answered that required techniques that I needed to learn. Tools that very few other experts in the field were actually using.

In my search for practical knowledge I moved to an enzymology lab in which I worked on a metabolic enzyme from bacteria and it's relative from fungus. The enzyme itself was not fascinating to me - maybe because I'm not a chemist - but I learned enough kinetics and structure analysis to open my mind to the possibilities. It was daunting to think of how much I still needed to learn to be able to do what I wanted to do! However, money was short and I had to move on...

My rescue raft was a membrane biology lab, working with mammalian cell cultures. A whole new world... Hence, I immersed in the literature to become familiar with my new proteinaceous best friends and where they lived. I noticed that the learning process became easier with experience, and I managed to feel confident that I knew what I was doing - but not really an expert. Maybe if that postdoc opportunity had lasted longer I would have really gotten into it, but once again money dried up and I had to look for greener pastures.

Once again I find myself scrambling to get familiar with a completely different subject and the literature seems overwhelming at times. Now I'm working with yeast and hormones and unfamiliar second messengers. Who knows how long it will take to feel comfortable in this new environment? Expertise is far, far in the future... I know there is a lot to learn, but I also know that with effort, a day at a time, I will. I might even become an expert if I stay in this field long enough. It did take me almost six years for that Ph.D. after all...

Often enough I browse the literature of my Ph.D. field, and even though it is not foreign to me I know that I am not an expert there anymore. I might still instigate the current experts to expand their horizon, but I have not delved deep into the most recent publications to question the current assumptions. Free-time is lacking, with family and all, and hobbies are hobbies. There are many other things at which I am not an expert... some I care, and some I do not. Time will tell which of those status I change.

In sickness and in health

As I pop the first dose of the antibiotics I'm taking for a sinus infection, I wonder should I have called in sick? I am obviously not very productive, my sinus pain is killing me, and I can hardly focus. But at the same time it is not debilitating enough that I can't putter around the lab and get some things ordered or sorted out. It's not the flu, any of them, and I don't think I'm more contagious today than I have been all week. Should I have stayed home all week?

Given that I started my new job in April and I'm leaving on a pre-planned vacation this Sunday, I think my leave allotment is mostly spent. Not to mention the days I had to stay home with the kids when they caught this bug. How did you think I got it in the first place? Of course they didn't catch it together, one was out two days one week, the other a day a week later. And a week after that Mom started sniffling. My version didn't come with the fever they had (which is why they couldn't go to daycare) but it didn't leave after three days either.

I guess my own personal sick leave policy is the same as the kids' daycare: fever, vomit, diarrhea. If I'm feeling extra lousy I'll leave early and take a nap before the end-of-the-day family chaos begins. Most of the time I'll work through it, especially when I need to take healthy days off to take care of sick kids. Which is probably why my colds linger longer and this one got a bit nasty...

Ready, set...up

It is amazing how one's view on life can change without notice. A year ago all I knew for sure was that the baby inside me had to come out. I was ending my postdoc contract and had 8 week of comp-time to pay back after my maternity leave, due to my pre-term labor mandatory bed rest. Stuck-Here Town seemed like a dead-end road and I was miserable.

By the time I was ready to get out of the house, I was contacted by my first postdoc adviser, who needed help getting his lab back in gear. The "dead-end" sign morphed into a "no outlet" one... six months was all he could offer me. Better than no job at all... I was in limbo but I had gained some time. I kept telling myself it was a step back before the two forward ones that were just around the corner. Believe it or not, I was right... Out of the blue came this unexpected grant, shining a light in the dark tunnel. Five years... I haven't planned this far ahead since I started graduate school! The cherry on top is not being associated with GradSchool-Postdoc-Postdoc University anymore... after 10 years there.

So here I am, embarking on this new adventure, or at least provisioning the boat. It is amazing how much work goes into setting up a lab from scratch. Compound on that the fact that you need to provide for experiments you (and everyone else on the project) have never done before... voila! my current life (minus the kids, untidy house & all the other stuff I escape from every weekday morning). When I was propositioned last year, all this seemed like a dream. Now that I started and the money is ready to be spent, it is more like a fairytale... shopping spree et al.

25 random things

I got this meme through one of those social networking sites. You are supposed to write 25 random things about yourself then tag others to do the same. I won't impose on anyone here, but if you write one let me know in the comments... it will be fun to read yours.

Here they are, the 25 things that I could think of,...in no specific order of importance.

1- I think to much, mostly about random things (like these). My thoughts keep me up at night, and the best thing I can do is write them out. I got tired of journals so I started this blog.

2- A very dear friend inspired me to write by letting me read his short stories. I've written a few short stories, but very few people have read them. Most are dispersed among my many journals.

3- I started writing two novels, one in college and one in grad school. They are both unfinished, even though I know how they end. I keep thinking it would be easier to find the time to write if I was writing on the computer, but I can't bring myself to type them up. I find it much more fun to write on paper.

4- Scrapbooking is the only activity I found that can keep me from thinking too much. I had an easier time during my second pregnancy's mandatory bed rest and maternity leave because of it.

5- As biased as it may sound, I think my kids are beautiful and (mostly) well behaved. But as a good Jewish mother I'm more than ready to point out their flaws to whoever compliments me on them.

6- As much as I've been enjoying motherhood, I could never be a stay at home mom. I felt like I was going crazy by the end of two months on maternity leave.

7- I actually enjoy going to the gym, but I haven't had time for it since I had my first son. If I had a few extra hours a week I would probably get more work done in the lab, straighten up the house and/or try to get more than 6 hours of sleep a day.

8- I hate my mommy tummy, but I couldn't expect less after 2 C-sections. The worst part is the number of people asking me if I'm pregnant again. I keep wanting to have a T-shirt made saying "The bun is out of the oven, these are leftovers". get one here :)

9- I had 2 C-sections because the babies were too big to come out on their own. Part of me wanted to have experienced a normal delivery, but most of me did not want to take the risk of harming the baby or myself.

10- I find personality tests, IQ quizzes and astrology very amusing. They occupied most of my procrastinating time during my Ph.D., along with the chick flicks that I dearly miss watching.

11- My sun sign is in Gemini, my rising sign in Pisces and my moon in Sagittarius... all the duality signs. I guess it explains why I thought I had multiple personality disorder in high school... or why I have a hard time making up my mind.

12- As far as I can tell, my astrological map has no earth signs, not even in minor positions. I guess that is why I married the most grounded person I have ever met.

13- My wedding dress cost 1/3 of my wedding budget, mostly because I wanted something simple. I'm very glad I got to wear it twice... It is now "preserved" in a box under my husband's bed at his parent's house.

14- If I could change one day of my life it would be the day of that party in second grade that I refused to slow dance with all the boys that asked me. I'm sure I would have had an easier time in middle & high school...

15- In total I have lived by myself for two months, while I was doing an internship after college. I was hardly at home though, as I was taking swing lessons and dancing every night of the week.

16- This town is growing on me, even though I hate the 9 months of Florida summer. As my husband once pointed out, we get to travel more living here than if we lived somewhere really nice. And I don't think we could afford a 3000 sq ft house with a pool anywhere else either...

17- The weirdest scold I ever received was from my mother. She reprimanded me for only taking challenging classes in college and no "easy A" class to boost my GPA. I still don't understand why I should have wasted time on those...

18- The best advice I ever received was from my dad. I was freaking out because I didn't know any successful female professors with kids & family, and I was in desperate need of a role model. He told me to ask him again in 20 years and he'd show me one.

19- I joined a social network site to keep in touch with my family in Brazil and found most of my grade school friends there. I joined another one to keep in touch with my grad school friends and found most of my college friends there.

20- I'm proud to have breast fed my first baby until he turned one year old and I'm close to doing the same with the second (3 months to go!). I guess it's my way of mothering them without worrying if I'm spending enough time with them.

21- As much as I complain about not having enough hours during the week, I still manage to pump at work and make baby food from scratch. Probably for the same mothering reasons as in #20.

22- I came to the USA convinced that I was only spending a year here. Deciding to stay the second year was the hardest choice I felt I had to make. All the other ones just happened while I was making other plans...

23- The most outrageous thing I have ever done was to fly to England with an expired student visa, not knowing if it could be renewed there or if they would send me back to Brazil. That is how I solved the dilemma in #22...

24- I'm a believer of positive thinking, and I'm sure that's how I got my kids to be born with their father's eyes. I thought my grandfather had blue eyes, but it was actually my great grandfather. It is easier to work the positive thinking thing if you think the odds are more in your favor...

25- When I feel blue & think that life sucks the last scene from Monty Python's "Life of Brian" pops into my head and I start singing "you gotta look at the bright side of life" to myself. It always helps...

Family, (un)defined.

When people ask me where I'm from, it always makes me stop for a moment or two before I can answer. The easy answer is that I'm from Brazil, but that does not describe me at all other than the fact that I speak Portuguese. So I always follow the "I wouldn't have guessed" remark with a bit more of information. I tell them that my father's family came from Greece and Turkey, and that my mother's family came from Russia and Romania. I feel that this history describes me better than my country of birth. It integrates for my fair skin and my Mediterranean features, and sets me apart from the classical Brazilian mixture of Portuguese, African and native Indians.

Most people are amazed at how diverse my family history is, and how far back my family can trace its roots. Our family tree has about 10 generations in it, along with many of the parallel branches from people who married in. Not only do we keep track of our relations, but we correspond and interact even though people are spread around the globe. To keep my wedding small (Brazilian standards, 200 guests), we settled on inviting the portion of the family tree that included my grandparents, their siblings and their descendents. My paternal grandmother was upset that her cousins (and their (grand)children) were not included. It was hard to please everyone, but I did not want to overwhelm the groom... and his family of 4.

When we got married I warned my husband that it was a one-way street; people marry into my family, not out - regardless of how the relationship turns out. And that includes the spouse's family too, in-laws are not "out-laws". Most of the ex-spouses (and their families) are still invited to all social gatherings, and it does not matter whether you interact well or not with someone. Everyone is invited, they are family. The seating arrangements for my wedding took a week to put together, to make sure that the people that were not talking to each other at the time were seated at opposite ends of the ballroom. Some disputes are temporary, others are longer lasting... but in the end it is all family.

Moving to the U.S., I was introduced to the concept of a nuclear family: parents & kids. It was a foreign concept for me, what about the cousins? If you ask my husband he will say that everyone is a "cousin" under my definition of family... but I don't think that is such a bad idea.