comfort & joy

Friends. Hi! Wow. It would appear that it has been nearly but not yet quite two full calendar years since my last missive, and so I figured I might as well get one out. This way I can technically say that I’ve sent at least one of these things “every year” since my first one back in 2017. (Remember 2017?? Apparently that’s about to become six years ago and while I’m pretty bad at math I’m absolutely certain that's a mistake.) My extended absence from your inbox notwithstanding, I’ve been regularly mulling over various possible TinyLetters in for the past 23 months, and if there were a way to directly transcribe my inner monologue while showering I probably would’ve sent a dozen by now. Instead, all that narration evaporated—some of it lapsing into obsolescence—before it ever reached a reader. I could’ve talked about doing another round of IVF, having it fail, and despairing (as of fall 2021), or shared the journey of how I’ve come through to the other side of that saga feeling honestly pretty fantastic about having only one kid. Being that this is ostensibly a “where to find my writing” outlet, I definitely should’ve shared the two-part interview/Q&A I did with HerCampus back in spring 2021, or, more recently, the pseudo–Dear Businesslady column I did for Evil Witches (a newsletter you absolutely should be reading if you’re signed up for mine). I even have another bat story I’ve been meaning to narrate (remember the bat story??), but I feel like I need to save that one, if only as motivation to write again someday. I will, say, however, that our home has been BAT FREE* since June 2021.*Interior only. The attic remains somewhat contested territory but they seem to have gotten the message as of late. For now, I will just offer some quick thoughts on working parenthood, to preserve the vestiges of the Businesslady brand (such as it is or ever was) and, more importantly, to synthesize some of my most recurrent ruminations. Even though I think we can all agree that the pandemic was/is—not too be too controversial here—bad, it did have the positive side effect of granting me an unprecedented amount of time with my kid during his first two-plus years. And yes, I do consider that a positive (although I appreciate why many other working parents would disagree). I hadn’t spent much time around babies until one emerged from mine own body, and as a result I didn’t have much context for why anyone would want to be around one voluntarily. Even though I went through a lot of effort to become a parent, if I’m being honest, it was based on a vague hope that my kid would become a fun conversational partner circa age four. And even that, during the most anxious moments of my pregnancy, felt overly optimistic. On some level, I never really understood the appeal of having kids around all the time. And—while I’m being candid—although I absolutely respected the choices made by parents who chose to step back or drop out of the workforce so they could focus on their little ones, I never really understood them either. A while back I found a big-picture to-do list (the kind whose scale is less “send email” and more “buy house”) from January 2020 that included among its line items “research childcare leads for summer.” The excellent daycare that my kid now attends starts at 18 months, and while I was willing to at least attempt caring for an infant without professional help, pregnant me was not optimistic that I’d have the patience to stick it out very long. (I’d have a heavily engaged coparent helping me, of course, but I was operating on the principle that doing 50% of something you’re bad at and don’t enjoy is still a heavy lift.) Needless to say, the pandemic disrupted that particular gameplan. And while of course many parents sent kids, including infants, to daycare in summer 2020 and beyond, it didn’t make sense for two people with a decently spacious house and (aside from the times when Doug was teaching college classes remotely) fairly flexible work-from-home jobs. So instead—and until April 2021 when our kid met some of his grandparents for the first time—it was just the three of us. (Plus the bats.) In a narrative twist that will be especially familiar during this season of shmaltzy fiction, and which probably comes as no surprise to anyone else but me, I discovered that…I really like my kid? I like having him around. And while I was already grateful for my flexible WFH job pre-parenthood, the fact that it allowed me to keep working while luxuriating in his unfolding personhood felt like an incredible gift. Obviously my particular situation is especially best-of-both-worlds (although not without its tradeoffs—our household jointly brings in less money than a lot of professionals make individually, for instance) but I feel like I should issue an apology for all the times I encountered parents who prioritized their families over their jobs and looked at them quizzically. I get it now. And, you know, the fact that perspectives can change is a good reminder not to judge people, especially when their circumstances are different from your own. So in conclusion: quit your jobs and have babies!! Juuuust kidding. Anytime I wade into the waters of “writing about other people’s parenting choices” (including the decision to opt out of parenthood entirely) I’m compelled to make abundantly clear that there is no one right way to do these things. But to the extent that my career advice has an overarching thesis, it’s this: your work should make your life better, not worse. That may mean an intense schedule coupled with fantastic financial compensation or a rich sense of satisfaction. That may mean the flexibility to spend time with family or friends or hobbies. I don’t know (nor do I want) your life. However, I do know that we have precious little time on this earth, and it offends me on a spiritual level to think about how much of it gets wasted on dispiriting jobs. If you’re feeling frustrated about the allocation of your invaluable energies, consider this a sign from the universe to try making a change in the year ahead. Prioritize personal fulfillment over someone else’s abstract notion of what constitutes “success.”How could I not end on that note, right? Imagine that the snow just started falling as we smile at one another in recognition of the meaningful lesson we all just learned. See you in 2023! ~courtP.S. Know any untenured (including non-tenure-track) scholars of American art history, or are you one yourself? I followed my own longstanding guidance about seeking out rewarding work opportunities and started editing for a fantastic program called Toward Equity in Publishing, which pairs authors with mentors who help them develop article manuscripts and other materials. Applications for the next cohort are due March 15th, so spread the word and/or apply if you’re eligible! PHOTO TIME: It remains to be seen whether I’ll ever get my act together enough to send out holiday cards, but if I’d done any this year, this pic would’ve been on ’em.