Regarding the pay issue, I'm CAS (I think that stands for Contract Academic Staff). Rather like the Reserves/Guard in the military, it is part time. Since when I was in the Reserves, I was a fairly senior leader, "part time" was a bad joke; I spent almost as many hours/week on the Army as did most full time Commanders.. As CAS, I mostly do clinical teaching. I get paid for whatever patients I see by the Province (same as if I saw patients in my office). Teaching slows me down, so make less, but I enjoy doing it, so I do it. I get zilch for whatever administrative work I do, but it's part of the game. Within limits.
For whatever reason, I’d done enough “stuff” that they promoted me. As noted, it is really an ego thing to get the promotion, since they aren’t paying me, I do it for the pleasure of teaching and the "glory" of being university faculty. It is way too soon to put in for Full Professor, and frankly, I haven’t done enough stuff to get it, and probably never will. However, I put together my CV in the format they want, and had a meeting with the Chief of Medicine (Derm is a division within the department of Internal Medicine), because I thought it was time to talk to him about my academic “career.” Is there anything for me to move forward and upward into? Is it worth it? When I got out of the Army, I thought I would move up in Academia in a similar fashion. In the Army, I moved up in rank, and also in authority (for doctors, not always the same; most don’t want to Command anything. I did). I thought I’d get more involved in teaching and research, and move up from Undergraduate Training Director (eg medical students) to Residency Director (could have had that 2-3 years ago) to Chief of Dermatology (maybe). Why didn’t I take Residency Director 2-3 years ago and move forward and upward? Something - or rather someone - more important came along. Now 2 someones. In a couple of years, the someones are going to be starting school, and I might want, or be willing, to do more academically-administratively. On the other hand, it’s a pain in the butt, and I’m not sure I care.
Doctor-Professor-Chief of Medicine easy to talk to, and I enjoyed the conversation, although the upshot is that it is very, very unlikely I will ever get selected for full Professor (which would rather like being full Colonel in the Army). As for Residency Director or Chief, he wasn't encouraging about what would be involved: too much work, not enough resources, little-to-no pay. Even disregarding the "I tend to piss people off" part, the small amount of ego gratification is not worth my time commitment when I have more important priorities. I screwed up one marriage (no kids involved) by devoting too much time to an organization; not going to make the same mistake twice. Many years ago, a wise friend said something about not needing to grab any more brass rings; she already had a whole drawerful. Maybe if I'd never done anything else in my life, I would be more tempted., but I what would it add besides lots of aggravation and one more line on my obituary.
Hedgefund took pictures of me and Wallstreet today. She's "taken pictures" before, in the sense of picking up my phone, and realizing that when she pressed the little picture (camera icon), it made a "click" noise (and maybe a flash). She had no idea this was taking pictures, but it was fun for her to do 1 or 2 (or 50) times in a row. This time she picked up the phone, and announced that she was going to take a picture of "Papa and Baby."
Will have to work a bit on the framing (also see attached).
Only 2 out of 11 were framed well, but that's on a par with most adults from what I've seen. I grew up with film (for my younger Gentle Readers, ask your parents/grandparents), which means it learned that it costs money if you don't frame shots correctly the first time, so I'm good at it (plus having inherited Mom's artistic eye).
Other new capabilites? Nom and I were sitting in the den, and she walked (can't even really call it toddling anymore) in with a bottle of milk. She also can pour her own milk: open the fridge, take out the pitcher of milk, take out bottle, and pour from the one to the other without getting too much of it on the floor (and wipes it up if she does).
At this rate, I'll get to retire sooner than I thought.
Anyhow, now have two large car seats in the back of the car. One facing forward (hers) and one still rear-facing (his - he's just at the borderline weight to turn it around). Fortunately Nom is quite slim, so she just might fit in between the two seats. Haven't field tested the whole lash up yet. To be continued.
When got home from the trip, the Good Folk had been hard at work, and everything was clean and put away. We'd left out bread & milk, not to mention scotch and dark chocolate for them. Okay, we'd left out money for our highly efficient cleaning lady, who had promised to do an extra good cleaning while we were away. The place looked great for, oh, let's see, divide one condo by 2 toddlers, carry the
WS is walking for real now. Since around 1 year, he was "walking" which is to say, taking 2-3 halting steps from my arms to Nom's. Now, just past 13 months, he is truly walking, 10-20 steps at a time. Even within the past week, he's gotten better; he still holds his legs wider apart than an adult, but narrower than earlier this week.
WS also likes blonds. If he sees a blond woman, he starts smiling and giving her coy looks. HF had done the same to men at this age, but more catholic in her tastes as to hair color. I'm told it is common for 1-year olds. I wonder if someone destined to be gay does the same for same-sex adults at this age. Anyone have any experience?
Apparently my face is too loud. HF so informed me the other night. I have no idea what she meant by that, but she certainly knew. Unshaven? Too close to her? Possibly, as she followed up that announcement by saying "go away face." (Hey kid, you're standing in my lap, not the reverse. Feel free to leave.) She usually does make sense (in three languages!), allowing for the limited vocabulary of a 2-1/2 year old, but that one lost me.
WS is also beginning to talk. Only a few words (mix of all three languages as best I can tell), but definitely more than just baby cooing. I keep telling him he's supposed to be the strong silent type, but I think it's only going to be one out of two; I'm going to have 2 chatterboxes (uh, well, three) around the house soon.
A colleague called from New Brunswick. She'd been one of our residents, we'd worked on a project together, which much later got published. She had a cutaneous lymphoma patient she was having trouble treating, and called me for advise. I think that officially makes me an expert. *ego rush*
I have so much to be thankful for.
- My family. I could not believe I could be this happy, nor love having children so much. I get weepy just thinking about it.
- My family of birth. We don't seem close, but when I look at other families, I realize how good we have it.
- My extended family. They are loving and supportive.
- My job. I love what I do: 90% of the time, I basically like it; 5% of the time, I think they aren't, and couldn't pay me enough to put up with the cruddy parts; but 5% of the time, I can't believe I get to do this cool stuff, and they even pay me.
- I'm healthy. Not perfectly healthy, but way better than the average 60-year old.
- I live in a free and wealthy country. Even at the worst, it's a great place to live, and I have it far from "the worst."
- I was born, and still a citizen of, another great, free, and wealthy country. Ditto the above. (And both of these, despite the idiots we have as leaders.)
- I served in the military for a long time. Deployed 4 times to war zones. It was truly an honour. (And I'm physically unscathed.)
- I have a lovely, comfortable condo in a good part of a great city, and will soon by moving into a lovely, comfortable, large house in another good part of this city.
- I have enough to eat, and can eat with great variety and delicious taste whenever I want.
- I have traveled the world. I'm (mostly) bilingual. Having a second language gives one a second soul.
- I can read, and have books as my companions whenever I want.
I am so lucky.
( Read more... )
Although WS could care less, and even less remember, said party, we felt it was important to mark the event and have people over. Since it is "cold and flu season," it ended up a smaller gathering than originally planned, but flowed well. Nom had done most of the necessary shopping during the week, and the evening before, we scurried about, buying last minute things and putting up decorations. Since you asked: streamers and balloons (in blue and white), and letters spelling out "Happy 1 Birthday Wallstreet." (Well, his actual name.)
Oddly enough, the next week, I had a mother bring in her son (I forget which was the patient) who was born within a couple of days of WS. We did the compare notes thing. Since he was her first, she was more insecure about "is he developing on time" than I, with my vast experience of one prior child. For the record, Wallstreet has teeth (three of them). He can manage to stand on his own for a second or five, and took what can be claimed to be a couple of very shaky steps. He’s clearly wanted to do both for months now, pulling himself up and trying to move forward. Sometimes I act as “training feet” - like training wheels, but for walking. Yeah, I’m being the sappy, doting parent, boring everyone with diaper stories. Deal with it.
( Oops, already happened. )
I find myself wondering if common sense is recessive (I mean genetically). I'm not referring to Brexit, but to my home life. After all, I'm the most logic being this side of the planet Vulcan, and the most sensible human to ever walk the face of this benighted planet (imho), but somehow have managed to produce the two silliest children in history of the world.
Another round of misunderstanding-your-toddler's-speech as I was typing this. Hedgefund just asked me for milk. I thought is sounded like she wanted a smoke (she's not very good at pronouncing "s"). "No, it will stunt your grow-- oh, milk. Yes."
*We went out to dinner with Nom’s family. It was a combined celebration. Belated Father’s Day for her Dad, who couldn’t make the official extended-family Fathers Day dinner, plus Primary School graduation for our neice, plus something-else-that-I-forget. Primary School graduation. Harrumph. Back in my day, we didn’t need no fancy graduations from primary school (to which we walked, barefoot, 5 miles uphill both ways, in a blizzard, and we were happy to do so...). I suppose a prior generation would have said the same about HS graduation. Come t’think of it, I didn’t attend my HS graduation, because I thought it was a waste and a farce even then.
He was enjoying his suce(soother / pacifier / dummy), but let it fall out of his mouth. It's attached to a string clipped to his sweater, but the string was longer than his arms, and he couldn't reach the suce. He figured out that if he pulled on the string, he could get the suce, did so, and put it back in his mouth. Go Wallstreet.
Wallstreet had his first "solid" food, which is to say several spoons of very milky cereal. He scarfed it right down, opening his mouth for more every time Nom brought the spoon near him.
( Feeding baby pix )
When I was a Commander in the Army, one of my biggest satisfactions was teaching Soldiers, or watching them learn on their own. It could either be individual Soldiers, or units as a whole. I recall one time, as a National Guard Company Commander, when the troops were qualifying on the rifle range. One Soldier's rifle jammed. She looked at me for what to do. I just said, "What's your mnemonic?" (There's an acronym for the steps to go thru if your weapon jams.) She repeated it back to me by rote, initially perplexed, then her face lit up. She suddenly realized that it wasn't just some Army nonsense we made them memorize, but it had an immediate, practical use. She went thru the steps, unjammed the weapon, and qualified. I get the same thrill teaching medical students and residents, but nothing compares to its being my own children learning and discovering.
In more mundane news, we went out to brunch today to Patrice. It's a place near us that we love for pastry, had always wanted to try their brunch, and decided to risk the havoc and chaos of bringing the kids. It actually worked. With Hedgefund being almost 2 years, she can sit still for a few minutes at a time, and Wallstreet mostly just sits or lies anyhow. I admit we weren't having deep, intellectual, sparkling conversation, but at least sorta got out like adults. At one point, I was feeding Wallstreet (with his bottle), and Nom was feeding Hedgefund, herself, and me (with a fork).
Since going out is rather hit-or-miss, have started watching pay-per-view movies. Unlike going out to the movies, can watch en famille without disturbing others, pause when needed, and much cheaper that way too. Not quite adult date night, but works as a compromise.
mở is VN for "open," which, as I've mentioned before, she uses to mean "open," "give me access," or "take off." Socks is English for "socks." So, she wanted her socks off, and said so in a complete sentence. Reading, complete sentences, I'm kvelling, as we say in French.