The update we received from our International Students Office:

International students should not travel outside of the U.S. at this time because of the quickly changing outcomes of these legal challenges, as well as the uncertainty of obtaining or renewing visas to enter the U.S.

Of course, many international students – especially the ones with passports from unprestigious places – never left the US throughout their course of study even before this. N was too terrified to go even just to Canada during his PhD. Who knows what whim will overcome the customs officer at the border.

I traveled freely with my Canadian passport, yet the customs officers were often unpleasant and sometimes downright aggressive. One, for instance, tore my student visa into shreds and threw it in the garbage. Just because.

A smart international student who does mind not being able to come back does stay put. People keep acting surprised that customs officers are mistreating travelers. This is only surprising for those who haven’t crossed the border with a non-US passport dozens of times like I did. The shit I’ve seen, you don’t want to know. And I’m white, female and pretty. People who don’t look like me have it much worse.

The climate debate seems to have nobody but freaks participate. Example:

The Summary of Policymakers in IPCC’s AR5 Working Group I said “It is extremely likely (95 – 100% certain) that human activities caused more than half of the observed increase in global mean surface temperature from 1951 to 2010.” More relevant to attempts to control CO2 emissions, chapter 10 said “more than half of the observed increase in GMST {global mean surface temperature} from 1951 to 2010 is very likely due to the observed anthropogenic increase in GHG {greenhouse gas} concentrations.”

This obsession with who caused it is nothing short of deranged. As if the corals won’t die and glaciers won’t melt as soon as you decide who or what’s to blame. 

The house is on fire, and they stand there doing nothing except engage in a vapid discussion as to who started it. 

The portion of my hair that grew out during the pregnancy is clearly visible because it’s not absorbing color. Not even the quite aggressive color I got the stylist to apply. The hair is colored at the top and at the bottoms but not in the middle. 

The Russian word for “courageous” or “brave” is “manly.” This is very annoying because when I want to say that Klara is very brave – and it’s true, this is one of her most obvious characteristics – it comes out as “Klara is manly.” Which sounds outlandishly bizarre.

What a useless language.

I turned on the Russian TV in the midst of some program and caught one of Putin’s propagandists delivering a sermon. 

“And then He came,” the man preached, his stupid little face shining with the reflected light of Revelation. “And he brought Life, Light, Truth and Hope to the world. It was a new spring of humanity. He, the great revolutionary, the Giver of change.”

Wow, look at how Jesusy these old KGB creeps suddenly got, I thought. 

“And his name is Donald Trump!” vociferated the propagandist suddenly. 

Well, it’s good to know he wasn’t taking the Lord’s name in vain, at least. 

Obviously, we haven’t gotten any merit pay in years. Hell, we don’t even get cost of living increases any more. Yet we still have to fill out endless merit paperwork. It feels like a cruel joke to waste all this time preparing documentation for merit pay that we’ll never get. 

I hate Rauner. 

Klara loves books. I know, what a shock. We only have every horizontal surface in this big house covered with books. She is trying to say the word “books” but for now it comes out as “boo.” There is no toy she likes more than her book collection.

Her favorite right now is “Eight Little Monkeys.” Her little face lights up with happiness whenever I start reading it to her. I think she likes it because I recite it in a singsong way and it’s repetitive and predictable. I have to read the monkeys to her at least 3 times a day.

Yesterday, I started reciting the monkeys to her while she was taking her bath. Klara was stunned. She started looking around, trying to see where the book was. It was shocking to her that the words were coming but the book was not there. She was equally stunned when N started reading the monkeys to her. She must have thought that only I could bring the words out of the book. 

It is beyond cute to see a child discover the joy of books.

Parenting is like teaching in the sense that you are much more a function than a person. If you make it about you as a person, a human being, you’ll be disappointed and miserable. 

For instance, N is unhappy because all of a sudden Klara seems to prefer me to him and wants to hang off my neck all the time. 

“What did I do wrong?” he asks. 

This is not about him, however. Just like it won’t be about him or me when at the age of 5 she’ll say, “I want to marry Daddy. Go away, Mamma.” Right now, she is undergoing the separation anxiety stage, which is normal at this age. It’s not about us as human beings. It’s about us as functions. 

Even when the children are very grown, even elderly, their parents are still much more functions than individuals to them. “This hairstyle doesn’t really suit you” carries an entirely different weight when said by a parent than by anybody else. 

It’s the same with teaching. Asking “But how can they lie to me or disrespect me” is a waste of time. You are not there. They are interacting with a function, not a person. Leave your self outside the classroom and you’ll be a fantastic teacher. 

So “Pat the Puppy” is one of those really great interactive books where babies can pet a furry animal, see themselves in a mirror, pull a tab and make a frog hop, make a toy squeak, etc. Klara loves this sort of thing. The problem with this particular one is that when it asks me to turn the wheel to see pictures of babies, the last one totally looks like Trump and Putin. 

See for yourself. What kind of ancient babies are these?

Freaks me out every day. 

I thought it would be a grand idea to give the kids at Klara’s birthday party little goody bags with small gifts. Nothing edible, of course, because half of the kids are from religious families with different dietary restrictions, and I don’t want to step all over that. Plus, you never know who’s allergic to what and whose parents are ideologically opposed to things like candy. 

So I headed to the dollar store and discovered that my brilliant invention already exists and it’s called “party favors.” There is a whole aisle of them at the store. 

It’s very hard to be original any more.