But I felt strange calling my children a "special circumstance that has interrupted or delayed my Ph.D."
I have often said that my children have helped me work more effectively, and had other academic parents nod in agreement. I now have limited windows of work time, and so I put my head down and concentrate. I get a lot done. Rarely do I check social media or do anything non-work related during work time. Now that I work most days from my home office, I ignore the housework that could be done, or the bed that could be napped in (3 years of rarely sleeping through the night and counting!) My work time is invaluable to me, and I want to honour my boss, the German taxpayers funding my scholarship, and the One who created work and gave me the capacity to take pleasure in it.
I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God's gift to man. Ecclesiastes 3: 12-13
I have the luxury of spending about half of my day in the quiet of my office (introverts who are mothers of young children say amen). I love what I do, but I also love standing up, using the 8 minute walk to Kindergarten to clear my head and shake out the kinks in my mouse-clicking arm. I relish picking up my children: it takes a second for their gaze to rest on me and make the click of recognition in their busy little minds and bodies. A smile bursts onto my toddler's face as she wiggles and squeals and hurls her way toward me. My rambunctious three year old always greets me the same way: no smile, no words, he hurtles headlong towards me and tackles my legs.
Before I had kids, I could sit up all evening researching for my M.A. if I wanted to. I could write all night if the words were flowing and sleep some other time. Back then my husband and I were both students, and we often had meals at strange times, or ate bread or cereal while we worked evenings/nights/weekends - whatever needed to be done, whatever suited us. Obviously, we don't work like this anymore. We love to spend as much awake-time with the kids as possible, so our children help us to be as effective and efficient with our work time as possible. We still tend to go to bed too late, but no matter what we'll be awake at 6 and the morning routines will start again.
Children give rhythm and routine to our days. When I was home during two winters with my two newborns, with no appointments, classes or jobs forcing me to be somewhere at a certain time, I languished. I thrive on deadlines and a bit of structure, thus I love our new Kindergarten-dictated routines. The drop off and pick up times provide us with a nice framework to organize our day around. I know my time is limited, which is a motivator and a certain freedom in itself.
Do children get in the way of my career? Of course, I have fewer hours to work than a doctoral student with no children. Of course, I took time off with my newborns that someone who didn't have babies did not take off. I choose to rarely travel to conferences or workshops in other cities while my kids are so young (which is also a plus, as I am very discerning about what is really worth going to, and which conferences are the best fit for my research). However, the bottom line is that I probably I would have finished my Ph.D. sooner and published more articles if I didn't have children.
Yet they are my blessing, my very great reward.
I do not regret the maternity leave I took with my babies for an instant. I do not sigh with frustration when I have to interrupt the flow of ideas that are finally getting somewhere because it is time to pick up my children. My afternoons with them, whether filled with joyful giggles and adorable glances, or tired tears and disobedience, are priceless. I am their mama and want to be with them. They inspire me. They refresh me. They give life perspective. They save me from my workaholic tendencies.
As an academic and an introvert, I can tend towards reflecting, analyzing, reading, journalling: that is, living very much inside my own mind. In the current season in which I am not teaching, just writing, writing, writing my dissertation, my kids help me get outside my head and into the tangible world of play-dough and a pile of pillows masquerading as a bear cave. The tactile world of angel-baby-hair and velvety soft skin, of wet bed sheets and scrubbing jam off the floor on hands and knees. Of one-minute editions of "Noah and the people who make fun of him" and "Jonah and the whale who swallows him," reenacted for the hundredth time. The world of foggy-crisp air filling our lungs on our 8 a.m. walk. The world in which my son exclaims gleefully "Look!" while I put on his sister's shoes; I follow his finger and see the pink-tinged sunrise sky just now breaking, and we thank the One who painted it (and I thank God for the wonder in my little boy's eyes). The world of sidewalk chalk-covered hands and a big brother sharing his Kindercappuccino with his sister. The soothing routine of sorting clean laundry, the sense of accomplishment at seeing tiny socks matched and clean clothes provided, order restored.
With or without the grant, I'll keep proclaiming that children are an asset to academic careers. And they are my heritage, my blessing, my very great reward.
