RIP, Old Faithful

Last night, after 5 faithful years of service, my beloved iBook laptop rolled over and died. One minute I was happily surfing the web, the next the screen turned white and stayed that way. The hard drive, thankfully, was fine, but the LCD screen couldn't be saved. After much gnashing of teeth and shedding of tears, I went to sleep last night convinced that my days as a laptop owner were at least temporarily over, but woke up this morning to a new MacBook courtesy of Juan. He's kind of a great husband, if you haven't picked up on that by now.

The new computer is great. It's got a bigger screen; more memory; and because we were able to save the hard drive from my old computer, the transition between the two has been seamless. Even my Internet bookmarks are all where they're supposed to be. Still, I miss my iBook. That computer saw me through a lot of hard times, and it's going to be hard to let it go.

Daycare WTF, or Why Other Parents Are Crazy

Luke's class at daycare exchanged Valentines today which, whatever. They're all under age 2--like they have any clue what a holiday is in the first place, much less one like Valentine's Day. I still went out and bought some cute Pooh and Tigger valentines, filled them out, and sent them in with him this morning. Imagine my surprise when he came home with a bag FULL of cards that fell into one of the following three categories:

-fancy schmancy homemade cards complete with google eyes (hello, choking hazard) and glitter.

-cards attached to candies a toddler shouldn't be eating (like suckers and conversation hearts) even if you're the type to give your toddler candy in the first place.

-store bought cards from parents like me who clearly don't feel the need to be an overachiever for a toddler Valentine's Day party.

I'm sorry, but WTF is with two-thirds of these parents? I can see making homemade cards if you're into scrapbooking and have some free time on your hands, but who doesn't realize that the crap you're gluing on said card could choke one of the recipients? The hard candies I just don't get. We don't let Luke eat candy at all, but it really worries me that some of these parents apparently think that a Blow Pop is an appropriate treat for an 18 month old.

Thankfully his teachers gave out nice age-appropriate cards that included every toddler's favorite thing in the whole wide world, stickers. Still, I can't quite wrap my brain around these other parents. WTF, moms and dads?

Too Many Thoughts in My Head

Juan didn't get the fellowship slot he'd been virtually guaranteed just a month ago by People In The Know. As a result we've spent the last 48 hours scrambling to put together a list of bases we wouldn't hate for the next year or two until he can re-apply. Staying in El Paso is a possibility, but the job he would need to take here would be 90% paperwork to 10% actual medicine. Not only would he likely be miserable if he took it, but he'd be deployable. Neither of us wants that. Most of the other positions at the top of our list (hospitals in the DC area, San Antonio, and Washington State) would be similar.

Then there's Korea.

He would be working in a hospital and practicing actual medicine, he wouldn't get deployed, Luke and I would be able to go with him. To Korea.

I don't know what I want at this point. Well, I take that back, I want our original "guaranteed" plan back. That's not going to happen, though, which leaves us with a number of less-than-ideal options. Korea is at both the top and bottom of that list. On the one hand, it would be an amazing opportunity for all of us to live overseas. On the other, we'd be gone for two years in a country so far away that coming home even once might not be financially possible. Plus I'd almost certainly have to give up teaching until we got back to the States.

So, I don't know what we're going to do. If we decide about Korea (and we need to decide soon--like before Christmas) then we'll have a set plan in place as soon as the decision is made. If not, we won't know where we'll be going until February at the earliest.

Winner

I did it. I spent 30 days writing a novel and I finished it tonight, just hours before the deadline. Over 50,000 words (which translates to roughly 200 pages, give or take depending on spacing and font size) that, if nothing else, proved to me that not only could I start a novel, I could finish it. It's complete crap, of course, but with some major editing I think it could turn into something I'm really and truly proud of.

Now off to celebrate my achievement! Wine and peanut butter pretzels for everyone!

Just to be very clear about this

1993--C babysits by herself for the first time, the microwave explodes.

1997--C is left home alone over the weekend for the first time, gets in her one and only car accident.

1998--C is left home alone over the weekend for the second time, the car survives but she is evacuated by a SWAT team because the crazy neighbors started threatening one another with guns.

2005--C is left home (albeit only for the day--I debate lumping this story in with the others because Juan was just at the library studying) and the building across the street from the condo catches fire and burns almost to the ground.

2008--C is left home alone with Luke over two consecutive weekends and manages to not only have her car battery unexpectedly die in a Wal-Mart parking lot, BUT, almost loses three years worth of pictures, music, lessons, and OH YEAH THAT NANO THING when the baby dumps an entire cup of coffee all over her laptop.

Needless to say, I don't have a good track record when it comes to staying home by myself. Thankfully (for today, at least) the laptop started working again when it had been dried out and cleaned up a bit, and all the data I needed on it has now been backed up several different places just in case it's waiting until the next time I'm alone to off itself in a more permanent way.

We're doing this again? Seriously?

Tonight we signed the papers to list our house for sale. Ugh.

Even though it's been three years, it still feels like we just did this and the thought of keeping the house spotlessly clean 24/7, having random realtors ring our bell at odd hours, and experiencing the frustration of showing after showing that doesn't result in an offer leaves me rather cold. I. Don't. Want. To. Sell. My. House.

It's not even that I'm resisting the move as much as I'm resisting all the crap we have to do in order to get to the place where we can move. Selling the house is really just the tip of the iceberg, and this listing means getting the ball rolling on things like quitting my job, finding a new one, renting a new house, etc...

Anyway, I'm once again soliciting good house selling thoughts. In this market, we're really going to need them.

C and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

1:00 AM: I wake up, WIDE AWAKE with a throbbing sinus headache
3:00 AM: Still awake
4:00 AM: Still awake
5:00 AM: Drift off
5:45 AM: Alarm rings, time to get up
6:00 AM: Luke starts crying, get him from his crib, somehow manage to smear poop all over one of my hands during diaper changing.
7:20 AM: Finally get out of the door, ridiculously late
7:30 AM: Drop Luke off at daycare, he screams bloody murder when I go to leave. Worst dropoff we've had in over a month, I feel horrible and worry that he's getting sick again.
8:10 AM: Finally get to work and find a line of students already forming outside my door because (of course) today is the last day for them to turn in late work before I have to hand in progress report grades.
8:20 AM: The first bell rings, I realize I forgot to put on deodorant and socks today.
8:55 AM: Finally get the students working independently so I can turn my attention to the piles of papers that have magically appeared on this, the last day to turn them in.
8:56 AM: My computer dies. Really dies. Blue Screen of Death Dies.
8:58 AM: IT says to bring it down but they aren't making any promises. Also, I can't have a loaner computer to finish my grading. Sorry.
9:00 AM: My headache returns with a vengeance.
9:15 AM: I call Juan (who's working nights and is thus home, sleeping) and beg him to bring my laptop from home to school so I can enter grades. He got no sleep the night before and doesn't think he's safe to drive. Dammit.
11:30 AM: I get my BFF to cover my study hall so I can leap in the car and race home to get the laptop
12:15 PM: Get halfway back to school with the computer before I realize I forgot the power cord on the kitchen counter. My battery can last around 30 minutes at this point without needing to be plugged in, so I've just made this trip for, essentially, nothing.
12:17 PM: My head really hurts
12:30 PM: Get back to campus, inhale some lunch, greet my next class
1:10 PM: My laptop, predictably, dies.
1:15 PM: A student asks if I'm okay. I seriously consider bursting into tears but decide against it.
2:00 PM: Dismiss my last class, run to the library (tailed by half a dozen students wanting help with late homework) to log onto one of their computers so I can finish grading. Also hoping for some leftover pot luck chocolate cake and/or Diet Coke to make myself feel better.
2:03 PM: No cake, no Coke. No librarian (who I love and wanted to vent to) since she left early. I should have left early today too.
4:00 PM: The final bell rings, I'm maybe a third of the way through my stacks of papers. Realize I'm going to have to come in over the weekend.
4:30 PM: Kick the last of my students out of the library, close up, head home.
4:35 PM: My head REALLY hurts.
5:00 PM: Get home. Luke screams and bursts into tears the second he sees me since he knows that Mama coming home = Daddy leaving soon.
5:20 PM: Luke stops tantruming.
5:23 PM: Juan gets up to leave, Luke starts crying again.
5:30 PM: My head--in case you were wondering--HURTS.

Rain, rain go away

Three straight days of rain. Three straight days of MONSOON rain, almost a month before monsoon season is supposed to start. Three straight days of being cooped up indoors because of the piss-poor drainage that's caused the main roads near us to flood. Three straight days of grey skies and canceled activities. Boo.

The sound of evil

I hate the ice cream truck. Every afternoon at 3:30 pm it rolls through our neighborhood BLARING the pinwheel song, and every afternoon at 3:31 Luke wakes up from his afternoon nap SCREAMING at the top of his lungs because no amount of white noise can drown out the music.

If he would go down for an earlier nap our problems would be solved, but alas he's steadfastly refused to go down a second earlier than 3:00 for the last month. Other than bribing the driver to skip our street (or at least turn the music down) what other options do I have? Homicide has come to mind, but I think that might be a bit of an overreaction.

Open letters

Dear Newly Divorced Man Across the Street,

I noticed this morning that you invested in some new artwork for your truck. "I swapped my wife for a gun--it was a great deal" is both a rather bold statement to make and a great way to let your neighbors know that not only are you bitter towards your ex, but now you're also armed! Thanks for the heads-up.

Sincerely,
C (who really hopes you didn't go out and buy a gun)


Dear Colorblind Couple at the End of the Block,

Did you know that your house was a lovely shade of buttercream up until last fall? It was. I often thought that yours was one of the prettiest homes on the street, and that was saying a lot. We have some beautiful homes here. Now, I don't know you personally, but I've been assuming that you both suffer from some form of colorblindness after the fateful day last November when I came home from work to discover that you had repainted your house pea green. Not a pretty pea green (if such a color exists) either, truly the ugliest shade of 70s throwback pea green I've ever seen. I dearly hope you're not planning to try to sell your home...ever because no matter how it looks on the inside I just can't imagine potential buyers doing anything other than screaming and running away once they catch a glimpse of the exterior.

Sincerely,
C (who really, really hopes you're planning to re-paint soon)


Dear Frozen in Time Neighbors,

I'm not sure if you got the memo, but Christmas was almost 6 months ago. I know, feels like yesterday, doesn't it? The thing is, the unwritten rule about holiday decorations is that they're supposed to be taken down no later than the end of January. Seeing as how one usually doesn't display 3/4 scale nativity scenes on a year-round basis, I'm going to assume that you forgot about it (and are shut-ins since it's really difficult to miss it in your front yard) or have no idea that it's actually almost July now. Either way, I'll take the damn thing down myself if you're not going to because it's driving me crazy.

Sincerely,
C (who has limited tolerance for yard sculpture even when it's seasonally appropriate)

Stung

Remember back when Juan found a scorpion on our couch? And when I found one in the washing machine? Those were unfortunately just the first two of many ugly, scary little "friends" we've found here in the last two years. Well, tonight my arm looks like this:



because I got stung.

Juan and I were playing with Luke in his room, and when I put my arm down on my knee I felt the sting. It HURT. I haven't been stung by a bee in twenty some-odd years, that's roughly how it felt. The good news is that this type of scorpion's sting is about as dangerous as a bee's, so while Juan did make a point of circling the sting with a pen (and noting how far the redness spread) it's not dangerous in the slightest.

That said, I still kind of can't believe that I was stung by a scorpion.

I'm really not sure what to do about the fact that we've found more of them in Luke's room than in any other part of the house. I don't like having the exterminator spray in there, especially since it's hard to keep him away from the baseboards now that he's crawling, but I also don't want him to get stung. Ugh. We never had to deal with this kind of problem in Maryland.

Done and done

Thank God it's Friday. No, really, THANK GOD IT'S FRIDAY. If I had to go back to that school in anything less than 48 hours I would probably go crazy.

(this is where my rant about today's administrative fuckup would go if, you know, I could blog about it. Suffice it to say, there was a fuckup, I will quit if it isn't resolved, and there's nothing I can do about it until people I don't completely trust do what they need to do)

BUT, the silver lining is that today is also the day we booked our tickets to GREECE for our anniversary/medical conference trip in June. It really can't come soon enough.

I still suck, but somewhat less than yesterday

Yesterday was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. It started at 6:45 in the morning when I went to the garage to pull some breastmilk out of our chest freezer. I've been dipping into my freezer stash (mass quantities of frozen breastmilk left over from my maternity leave for those who've never had to stock one) and discovered only three bags were left. Three bags, or six ounces total, out of a stash that had once been close to 300 ounces. Since those six ounces combined with the twelve I had managed to pump on Monday only equaled 18 and Luke needs 24 while I'm away, I had only one option: formula.

Now, formula isn't the devil. It's not even close, and all along I've known that this day was going to eventually come. I've been back at work for over 4 months now and can only pump twice during the day--getting 24 ounces in two sessions just isn't realistic. Still, I had to battle a lump in my throat when I pulled out a dusty can of (not yet expired--I checked) formula we got as a sample when Luke was a newborn and walked across the street to the nanny. She was very understanding and assured me repeatedly that he was going to do great, but I still felt like a failure. I wanted so badly to make it through Spring Break next week without supplementing and I was this close to making my goal.

Anyhow, that put me in a funk the rest of the day, which wasn't helped by the dozens of kids who either A: didn't do their midterm projects, B: did the project wrong because they didn't read the assignment sheet carefully, and/or C: waltzed into my room five minutes before my final deadline to hand in make-up work wanting to know how they could pull their 35 up to a 70. Needless to say, I did a lot of yelling.

I finally shoved the last kid out the door with a reminder to DO HIS WORK ON TIME FOR THE NEXT REPORT CARD and made it home around 5:20. Luke and I played for awhile and then it was time for him to eat dinner. Dinner these days is one jar of baby food and three tablespoons of oatmeal cereal mixed with breastmilk. He'd been balking at cereal for a few nights, but I honestly thought it was because he was full rather than because he changed his mind about liking it. Wrong. After three bites (and I should say here that I think I'm mostly to blame for this since I realized after the fact that I made the cereal thicker than he's been eating it lately and I suspect he didn't like the texture) he gagged and then vomited everywhere. His high chair, the floor, me, the dog, you name it. Poor baby!

Naturally I panicked a bit since this was the first time he's truly thrown up, so after consulting Baby 411 and scoffing at their suggestion to give him only Pedialyte for the next few hours (at bedtime there ARE no more hours, plus we had no Pedialyte in the house and Juan was still at work) I threw him in the tub and nursed him to sleep. Then I called my husband and my mom, in that order, needing some TLC.

Today has been quite a bit better, but I think what I really need is a vacation. Good thing Spring Break is coming up next week and I can spend the whole 9 days laying around the house, playing with my boy, and trying to remember that the good days vastly outnumber the bad ones around here.

Mother of the Year

I suck.

The end.

No, really.

Please skip if you have a weak stomach

Jasper had a grooming appointment this morning, so Luke and I got up, dressed, and ready to go fairly quickly compared to most Saturdays. I left Jas outside for awhile figuring that he'd be cooped up indoors enough today what with the hair cutting and drying, but what I didn't figure on was that he'd find poop to roll around in while he was out there.

Poop. All over the dog. ALL OVER THE DOG. This was no little poop he picked, and he was quite literally covered from head to paw.

After spending several minutes covering the baby's ears while I cursed whatever gods decided to ruin my morning, I decided that A: we didn't have enough time to hose him off before going to PetSmart, and B: I'm paying the groomer good money to wash my dog, so they might as well earn it! I covered the passenger seat of my car with a sheet, said a few prayers, and drove like a maniac before the smell made me puke.

Naturally there was a line to check in when I arrived, and naturally I got dirty looks from all the other pet owners whose clean dogs wanted nothing more than to rub up against my unbelievably filthy one. I wanted to explain to everyone that this literally JUST happened right before we left for the groomer, but figured that a quick dropoff and exit was my best bet. After apologizing profusely to the groomer (and making a mental note to tip her extra when I go back this afternoon) Luke and I practically ran out of the store. Ugh. I'm sure they're making a note in our file as I type "Owner brought dog in covered in poop, charge her double next time" and I can hardly blame them.

Of course, it could have been a lot worse. He could have rolled in the poop right after he was groomed.

Good, Bad

Good:

-Getting out two hours early from TAKS testing because I happened to be testing with the only group of kids who were allowed to leave the building as soon as they finished their exams.

Bad:

-Getting stranded at school until 30 minutes after the final bell because no one else was available to check in dictionaries.

Good:

-Coming home to a happy baby

Bad:

-Coming home to a completely exposed roof because the roofers (who will henceforth be known as the Fucking Roofers or FRs) went AWOL today and left huge rolls of felt, shovels, and other assorted crap on our half-demolished roof.

Good:

-Nice, temperate weather all day

Bad:

-Rainclouds looming while the roof stands exposed because the FRs went AWOL

Good:

-Quick response by the roofing company managers to my call about the FRs, the exposed roof chock full of random crap that will doubtless be blowing all over the neighborhood when the wind picks up, and the looming rain.

Bad:

-Quick response requires a new roofing crew to come finish up the job the FRs left half done in the middle of Luke's bedtime.

Good:

-box full of ice cream sandwiches in the freezer

Bad:

-box full of ice cream sandwiches in the freezer that I will probably be stuffing my face with after Luke can finally go to bed.

Verdict:

The day appears to be a wash

Random list of things on my mind

We've been going through a bit of a household purge/upheaval over the last month. First we got confirmation that the roof needed replacing (lovely), then we decided to buy a dining set and replace some ruined couches (courtesy of the lovely Miss Arcadia who's lucky not to be skinned alive over the cost), and then our nearly new TV set developed an unbearable high-pitched squeal that we can't turn off. The TV is probably a goner if what I'm reading on Samsung sites is correct, so that's likely another big purchase on the horizon.

Maybe I'm strange, but all of this change (new roof, new furniture, new TV) is making me twitchy. I like things to stay roughly the same from day to day, and suddenly I'm looking around my house and realizing that I hardly recognize it. It's a little disconcerting.

********************

It took me nearly 45 minutes to vote in the primary this morning even though I arrived promptly at 7:00 am. Our precinct had the slowest poll workers ever manning the Democrat table, and at one point none of the six Diebold machines was being used while all four poll workers took their time v.e.r.y. s.l.o.w.l.y. highlighting the names of people at the front of the line and filling out caucus receipts. If I hadn't wanted my "I Voted" sticker to use as an object lesson for the seniors who aren't registered to vote yet, I probably would have just walked out at that point and gone back after work. Note to the Texas Democratic Party--don't assign 80 year olds to man the polls first thing in the morning on election day unless you want 50+ cranky people who need to get to their jobs filing complaints with the Secretary of State.

********************

When my husband falls asleep on the couch and starts snoring it sounds exactly like there's an out of tune radio on somewhere in the house. Very disconcerting, especially after dark and especially when he claims that A: he didn't fall asleep, and B: he doesn't know what noise I'm talking about. I honestly thought I might be having auditory hallucinations for half an hour until I realized what the noise actually was.

********************

The English Language Arts TAKS test is tomorrow and I'm nervous as heck about how my students are going to do. We've been prepping for it for over a month and I know there are still kids who are going to look at the open-ended prompts and totally forget how to write their responses. Stupid TAKS. Stupid kids who don't pay attention in class. Stupid me for not starting test prep before Christmas.

Beating my head against a wall

Some days I truly wonder why I bother. After a series of increasingly depressing staff meetings today about budget problems, district mandates to teach to new tests rather than to return our focus to actual literature, "new" initiatives that were tried years ago and were retired due to complete and utter failure, and other equally upsetting topics; I left school feeling completely and utterly helpless to do anything that might actually make a difference in my students' lives.

At least part of the problem is, as I posted the other day, the fact that NCLB has made testing vitally important to the survival of every public school. Thus, our administrators are justifiably desperate for ways to improve performance, even at the cost of actual education. A bigger part, at least from today's perspective, is that instead of trying just one or two new initiatives every few years to see if they make a difference, we're thrown half a dozen every year and told to make them all succeed, even when some work at cross purposes. It's like the district throws handfuls of pedagogical spaghetti at our little wall in the hope that some strands will stick even if most of them fall to the floor. The problem with that analogy, though, is that when real spaghetti goes "splat" it doesn't carry with it the future of hundreds of children whose educational needs are going unmet.

As a teacher, my hands are mostly tied. I can speak my mind to my administrative team during staff meetings, I can even go to school board sessions and let them know what I think, but the ultimate decision makers don't have to listen to a word I say. They don't have to try to juggle all the balls we're supposed to manage each and every day. They don't have to explain to students and parents why they're having to learn yet another formula for writing essays rather than reading a novel or engaging in some creative writing challenges. Moreover, they don't have to try to look a kid squarely in the eye and try to come up with an explanation that makes any kind of sense for all the BS hoops she has to jump through in order to get a diploma. It's infuriating and disheartening, and it makes me wonder how I'm going to keep doing this job (this job that I love 95% of the time) in the long run if things continue like this.

I never learn

Why is it that I ALWAYS end up going to the grocery store on Super Bowl Sunday? It's like I'm physically incapable of remembering to buy some completely essential thing until the worst possible day to shop.

Naturally, because I like to up the ante idiocy-wise every year, Luke had to come with me to Albertson's today. He was an absolute angel the whole time, unlike the 20-something man we encountered in the frozen food aisle who ran past us yelling "Get in the fucking line already!" to someone on his cellphone while also steering a cart that, I kid you not, contained at least a dozen cases of Bud Lite.

We got out unscathed, and I am once again pledging to never, EVER go to the supermarket on Super Bowl Sunday again. Until next year, that is.

*****

Edited to add: Thank goodness the Giants won. Perfection is boring. Not that I watched the game--I've spent the evening participating in the anti-Super Bowl: a "Sex and the City" marathon accompanied by brownies and vegetarian chicken nuggets.

America's Next Top Offensive Talk Show

This news is making the infertility blog rounds today but I wanted to say a few words myself over the unbelievably offensive upcoming episode of the Tyra Banks Show that is currently soliciting comments/participants. The pitch for the show (direct from their website) is as follows:

DO YOU KNOW A WOMAN OBSESSED WITH BECOMING PREGNANT?

Do you know a woman who is obsessed with becoming a mom? Have you seen and heard her struggle for years, felt her unvoiced jealously and seen her desperation first hand? Have you watched silently for too long as she gets her hopes up only to be disappointed and heartbroken when she can’t conceive? Has she tried extreme methods and spent a lot of money to get pregnant with no luck? Do you want to finally tell her she needs to stop the emotional and physical stress on her body and seriously consider adoption or a surrogate alternative? If you know a woman who is obsessed with becoming a mom and getting pregnant, then SUBMIT BELOW.

Please do not submit unless you are willing to appear on “The Tyra Banks Show".

The worst part of this show is that the following e-mail was sent out to RESOLVE members after the Tyra Show contacted RESOLVE for their help in finding women to be on the show.

The Tyra Banks Show is producing a segment about women who've been in pursuit of a pregnancy for a long time. The show which will tape/air this Thursday will focus on those of us who've tried, without success, almost everything Assisted Reproductive Medicine has to offer yet remain committed to the quest. Producer Anne Redecki is looking for articulate women who will speak candidly about their experiences, the emotional, physical and financial costs associated with ART, and their determination to stay the course.

If you're interested in sharing your story and being on the show, please contact:

Kimberly Saunders
Phone: 646 638-5641
Email: Kimberly.Saunders@tyratv.com

Now, unless I'm missing something HUGE, this seems to be a classic bait-and-switch situation. It's like they want to deliberately mislead infertile women who would like to "speak candidly about their experiences" so their unsympathetic friends and family members can tell them they need to stop trying to have a biological child. It boggles the mind to think of what kind of sadistic asshole A: thought up this show in the first place, and B: wrote that e-mail and sent it out in hopes of deceiving and luring in women going through such a difficult situation. The fact that they misrepresented the aim of the episode to RESOLVE and used their membership in this way is just beyond the pale. For that alone, heads need to roll.

Contact information for the producer in charge of this trainwreck is above, and I'd encourage all of you to contact her to voice your disgust over what she and the Tyra Show are proposing. RESOLVE has been notified and is apparently handling their end of the situation as I type.