Happy Birthday, Sweet Boy!

I can't believe you're a year old already. As cliche as it is, the last year has just flown by and all of a sudden my little baby has become a walking, talking toddler. I tell you all the time that you're not allowed to get any bigger, but you don't listen and frankly I don't really want you to. Watching you explore the world and learn how to relate to it has been the highlight of my life.



You love books, your sippy cup, and all animals. Everything is a doggy to you right now, except your beloved rubber ducks who you invariably refer to as "ducky!" You're the most amazingly tactile kid I've ever met--you won't put much in your mouth (even food some days) but you need to touch EVERYTHING you see. Textures fascinate you, and I can't wait until you're a bit older and I can introduce you to modeling clay, finger paints, and paper mache.



This summer has been chock full of disruptions, from Daddy and I leaving you with Grandma and Grandpa for the first time ever while we went to Greece, to you and me going to visit them for three weeks last month. I worried, as I am wont to do, that you wouldn't deal well with all the changes in our routine and surroundings, but you handled them all beautifully. I continue to be amazed at how flexible you are when it comes to where you sleep and how you spend your days. I am the furthest thing from flexible about certain things, and I hope I don't pass that trait along to you.



Last week we had your birthday party and you had only one wish for the entire day--to be allowed to play with the balloons from dawn until dusk.



I think you enjoyed the balloons even more than your first bite of cake with frosting, though you decided cake was pretty good after the first few tentative tastes. By the time you decided you were finished, you were so covered with blue frosting that we had to take a break from the party to rinse you off in the wading pool. You didn't mind much.



Next week school starts up for me again, and the transition is going to be rough on both of us, I fear. We've had a wonderful little summer at home, and now you'll be starting at a real daycare for at least the next few months. It's going to be different, but hopefully in a good way.

I love you, sweet precious boy, and I can't wait to see what the next year holds for us. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I'm so thankful every day that I get to call myself your Mama.

D is for...

"DUCKY! Duuuuucky! Ddddddducky!"

Do you know how difficult it is to work on lessons (AP lessons, no less, that I'll be delivering in less than THREE weeks) with an adorable boy talking about his new favorite animal upstairs? It's hard. Very hard.

In other news, Luke now also says "Doggy" and "Daddy" but with far less precision than "Ducky." Every person he knows is "Daddy" and every animal except a duck is "Doggy."

Updatey

Many apologies for going dark--Luke and I have been living the high life with my parents in Salt Lake for the last couple of weeks and blogging (actually, all things Internet) has really gone by the wayside. Lots of pictures to follow when we're home and I have access to my camera cables again, but for now we'll just run down the numbers:

-Number of days Luke has woken up before 6:00 am: 7
-Number of days I have woken up before 9:00 am: 2
-Number of days my dad has gotten up at the crack of dawn to play with the baby so I can get some freaking sleep: All
-Number of pounds I've lost since starting Weight Watchers: 9.2
-Number of pieces of mouth watering homemade cherry pie I've refused: 47
-Number of points in one piece of mouth watering homemade cherry pie: 9
-Number my baby will be turning in just 13 short days: 1

So, as you can see I've paradoxically become the queen of both sloth and willpower on this trip. Hopefully returning to "real life" shortly will cure the former but not the latter. Hope you're all enjoying the last few days of July!

Progress Report--Week 1

I fully expected that this entry would be full of whining about how hard it was to stick to a diet, especially since I've never tried to really watch what I eat before. Therefore, I'm pleasantly surprised to report that staying on my Weight Watchers plan has been really, really easy. I've eaten more fruits and vegetables in the last 7 days than I think I have in the last 7 months; realized that most of my favorite foods are still okay to eat as long as I A: don't eat them every day, and B: limit my portions; and upped my activity level. Result? I'm down 4 pounds from this time last week.

Now obviously I'm not going to lose that much every week, but it's nice to know that this diet is really working. My challenge this week is to keep up my good eating habits while having to eat out once a day due to a conference I'm attending. I went over my daily "target" points today without trying at all, so I need to really buckle down if I'm going to do continue my good progress.

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.

Accountability

Scene: One year ago, C's OB/GYN's office

Dr. J: I see here that you've gained [insert unspeakably high number] pounds during your pregnancy. I'm concerned that you're going to have trouble taking them off.

C: Pshaw, I gained the weight, I can take it off. How hard can it be to lose [unspeakably high number] pounds when you're running around after a baby and breastfeeding?

Dr. J: Just so we're clear, I'm not going to answer that question for fear that you'll throw something at me.

C: I'll be fine, trust me.


Scene: Last month, in C's bathroom

C: Hmmm... I wonder what I weigh these days? I'll just pull out the old scale and find out.

*steps on scale*

*Silence*

C: AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

C: That can't be right! I weighed this much when I was 6 months pregnant!

*thinks*

C: I guess all those pints of Haagen-Daz have been adding up. And the Pirate's Booty. And the egg rolls. And every other piece of crap I've shoved into my mouth without thinking about it for the last few months. Fock. I need to go on a diet. Maybe I'll just try eating sensibly on my own. I'll be fine on my own.


Scene: Last weekend

C: Hm, wonder how that DIY diet I've been kind-of sort-of doing is coming along?

*steps on scale*

*silence*

C: AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Two more pounds? What the hell??? "Fine" my ass.


Scene: This morning

*type, type, type*

*type, type, type*

*type, type, type*

C: Okay, it's done. I'm officially a a Weight Watcher. I wasn't "fine" gaining all the weight during my pregnancy, I wasn't "fine" trying to lose weight on my own, and I'm definitely not "fine" weighing this much. Hopefully this works.

End Scene

My hope is that by making my weight loss attempts public I'll be a bit more motivated to stick with it when the novelty of entering every bite that I take into the computer wears off. I'm trying to lose 26 pounds by parent/teacher conferences in early November, which seems do-able all things considered. Today was my first full day on the diet, and I was surprised at how not-hungry I've been. A half cup of pasta with meat sauce can be surprisingly filling, and a serving of sorbet is almost as good as a pint of caramel ice cream after dinner. Baby steps.

Accountability-wise, since Mondays are my official WW weigh-in days, I'm going to start posting here about my progress every Monday as well. Wish me luck!

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.

I'm sorry, were you saying something?

Because while you had your back turned, look what Luke was up to



and then he did this



and this



No, it's not really walking, but considering that he's pointedly ignored the push toy since we bought it two months ago, I think of this as significant progress in that direction.

Like a Fish in Water

I swear, there are days when I wonder what the heck I've been doing here for the last two years. The city continues to surprise me with new hidden gems I never even knew existed, and today was a case in point. Who knew the base had a free water park for kids under 4?



Did I mention that it was free?

Luke loved it once he got over his initial fear of the bigger kids who were splashing nearby. He crawled all over the shallow end (eventually going in up to his chin before wanting to be carried around again), did some splashing himself, and generally had the time of his life.





I think this is going to become a weekly ritual for us now that we know it exists. The best part is that we have a little group of friends-with-babies who will be going with us on future excursions. Swimming fun for all!

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)

Of updates and jet lag

Why hello there, it's been awhile! The Internet being what it is, I didn't want to publicize the fact that Juan and I were going to be out of the country until we were back home, but we just returned from a much-needed vacation to Athens, Greece. It was an amazing trip, but it's good to be home.

Updates from the home front--I'm now a temporary stay-at-home-mom, and I think Luke is getting bored already. There are only so many times the boy can crawl around the house before he gets frustrated that there aren't any other kids here to play with, so we're going to start some Gymboree classes with a friend and her daughter next week and try to find some other activities to fill up our days.

In less happy news, my grandmother was officially diagnosed with esophageal cancer two weeks ago. She begins chemo/radiation treatments tomorrow, and any good thoughts you can send her way would be very much appreciated.

Finally, since I still kind of can't believe that we were actually in Athens this time last week, a few pictures from the trip:

All good things...

Six days from now the school year will be over and I'll be a free woman for ten glorious weeks. Summer break truly is one of the best perks we teachers get, and this time of year almost feels like vacation already because the students have taken their finals and are just doing busywork-type assignments and watching (mostly relevant) movies while we feverishly grade papers and finalize their grades. Even though my inbox is full and I have piles of books and personal items to pack up and take home in the next few days, the overall mood is so relaxed that it's hard not to get sucked into feeling like it's summer already.

However, it's also a sad time of year since I love my students and won't see many of them again once they graduate and move on to bigger and better things. I've found myself tearing up in class on more than one occasion because really, these kids are amazing. With remarkably few exceptions they're interesting, well-behaved, inquisitive young people; and while they drive me crazy on a daily basis I absolutely adore being their teacher.

So while I'm looking forward to being a pseudo-stay at home mom until the next year starts in August, I'm more than a little maudlin at the thought of saying goodbye to "my" kids next Tuesday and leaving this job I love, even for a much-needed break.

Roller coaster

First, please keep Kathleen in your thoughts. She's very ill and needs all the good thoughts and prayers you can send.

Second, what a roller coaster week this has been. Awful, awful news from every corner just keeps raining down, and I'm honestly afraid to pick up the phone when it rings because at this point I've received at least three calls in the last 24 hours that have reduced me to tears. I don't want to talk about it right now because I'm still processing (besides which, some of the news isn't mine to share) but that post will be coming at some point in the future.

Third, I've decided that a roller coaster is the perfect metaphor for the first year of parenthood. Big shocker, right? A: that the English teacher searches for metaphors for her life, and B: that the metaphor is an old, tired one. Hear me out, though!

Pregnancy is the looooooooong ride up to the top of the first drop. You think you're never going to get there, you're nervous and excited the whole time, and then BOOM! You drop!

(that's birth, by the way)

The initial 10-15 seconds of the ride, where you're disoriented and screaming, are the first months of your baby's life. Everything is new, you can't anticipate your next move, and you feel like you're going to fall off and/or throw up the entire time.

Then you start getting used to the jerkiness of the ride and begin really enjoying it. You can anticipate some of the curves, you might even have a chance to glance outside of the ride and see the water feature or popcorn stand nearby, and life is good. Sure, you're still on a roller coaster, but it's not new and strange anymore. Those are months four through 12.

Then, of course, the ride stops and you're forced to get off, shaky and dizzy, which I assume is a good analogy for moving from babyhood into the toddler years when everything changes again.

In case you can't tell from my above analysis, I'm feeling pretty confident about parenthood right about now. Life is (generally) predictable, and every once in awhile Luke makes a breakthrough that feels exactly like a lull in the ride. Case in point, he can now put himself to sleep.

For any non-parents reading this, putting oneself to sleep is a milestone that can never come early enough. After spending months and months nursing, rocking, singing, cajoling, and begging a baby to fall deeply enough asleep to be put down in his/her crib without waking back up again; it feels like clouds lifting and angels singing when one night you put down your baby awake (after spending WAAAAAAAY too much time on the above activities and giving up in sheer frustration) only to have him/her roll over and fall fast asleep.

Luke has now put himself to sleep several nights in a row, and I am loving it. LOVING IT. I know full well that I'm probably jinxing it by writing this, but I don't care. Every one of these little milestones, every one of these little things that he can do on his own, feels like the roller coaster slowing down. That doesn't mean it's stopped, or that parenthood gets easier, but it's getting more predictable. More normal. And that's a good thing.

Mother's Day: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

My first Mother's Day was wonderful. The three of us celebrated yesterday since Juan was working today, and Luke and I spent the "official" day together shopping, playing, and enjoying each other. It was a great day, but a rather eventful one for a number of reasons.

The Good: Luke was sitting on my lap playing with a stuffed toy and he kept pushing it at my mouth. After three or four nosefulls of Lamaze firefly, I finally realized that he wanted me to kiss the toy. I always make a game of having his toys kiss him (complete with big "MWAH!" sound effects) and he was mimicking me. He's never done that before, and he started cracking up as soon as I started giving the toy kisses. He'd put it near my mouth, I'd give it a big "MWAH!" kiss, and he'd laugh. Then I'd laugh, which would make him laugh harder, and so on and so forth. I think it was the first time we've shared a laugh like that, and it was wonderful.

The Bad: My grandmother isn't doing too well, and I'm really worried about her.

The Ugly: We got the green light from the pediatrician to start Luke on table foods, but I'm not sure he's ready. We tried two different Stage 3 (meaning small chunks of soft foods mixed in with purees) foods today and he gagged and vomited on both of them. He clearly has major issues with texture, and part of me wonders if he's just not ready yet. The other part, of course, thinks that it's very likely that he needs to continue to try new textures (he did okay with just one or two small pieces mixed in with a more runny puree) or else he'll never get used to them.

So, that was Mother's Day.

Bravo!

Luke has been learning new skills left and right this month at a pace that makes my head spin a bit when I think about everything he can do now that he couldn't just three weeks ago. He can pull himself to standing very easily, crawl across his room in under 10 seconds, and make "T" sounds. The one that I still can't quite believe, though, is that he's obviously starting to understand certain words and phrases we say to him.

His name was the first word he definitely recognized; that was a month or so ago. "No" isn't quite clicking yet (I think when he does react to it he's listening more to my tone of voice than to the actual word--to be honest I rarely had to use the word before he was mobile) but it's close. His newest word, though, is "Bravo!" Our Spanish-speaking nanny taught him how to clap last week, and now whenever someone says "Bravo!" to him (and he feels like it) he'll clap. It's beyond adorable and we're trying to catch it on camera before the novelty wears off.

My little baby is turning into a little boy, and it's going too fast. There are days when it seems like he'll be like this forever and others when it seems that he noticeably grew physically and cognitively overnight.

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.

The cutest thing in the world

I double dog dare you not to agree that this is the cutest thing the world has possibly ever seen.

Moot Point

Well, it seems as though Luke read my last post because he's been waking up at 2:30 for the last three mornings. Oh well, we'll get this "through the night" business down someday, I suppose.
In other news, I've been approached to maybe possibly teach AP English next year. Everything depends on what a couple of other teachers decide to do (one possibly retiring, one probably transferring to a different campus) but if the spot opens up it's mine. I'm afraid to get too excited about this because it's still very uncertain, but since I have to start doing prep work now if I'm going to be ready by next September it's been on my mind pretty much constantly since I found out about it on Monday. It would be huge for me to get this, not only because it would be an amazing challenge in and of itself, but because it will look really good on my resume when we move at some point in the next few years and I have to find another job.

Onward and upward on a number of fronts, it seems.

Advice welcome

I am dying for sleep here. Luke has taken to waking up between 4:00 and 4:30 for the last two weeks, and since it takes him over an hour to go back down and we have to get up by 6:00, no one is getting enough sleep. He's tired and cranky, I'm tired and cranky, and Juan is too bleary eyed to know which way is up.

The good part of this is that two months ago he was regularly waking at 2:30, last month it was 3:30, and my hope is that by May/June he'll be sleeping until it's really time to wake up more than once a week. The bad part, of course, is that we appear to be stuck in this awful pattern until his system matures just that little bit more to stay full an additional 90 minutes overnight.

Most of you readers have kids, so I'm asking for suggestions to help speed things along if at all possible. I'm entertaining all options (including formula) that could help us all get enough rest.

And incidentally

My blog is the number one hit when you Google "babysitter disaster stories." I'm so proud...

Lull

I'm liveblogging straight from parent/teacher night and it's...dull. Many of the parents of my problem students have shown up, many of the parents of my good students have shown up, but it's still slow. Bummer. The one thing that kept me from bursting into tears when I left Luke with the sitter this morning (the first time I've left him for longer than a standard workday and only the second time ever I've not been the one to put him to bed) was the thought that at least I'd be too busy talking to parents to miss my boy. I'll give you one guess as to whether or not it's working.

Can I go home yet?

Not BAD, just bad

I'm trying to do more cooking on weeknights these days (in the vain hope that someday we'll break our takeout habit) and am meeting with results that, while far less hysterically awful than previous attempts at culinary perfection, are just...not good. Tonight's dinner was a case in point. A crock pot recipe for cashew chicken that should have been good. Chicken, broth, snow peas, bamboo shoots, cashews, what's not to like? Okay, so it took four hours to cook and I didn't start it until after 5:00. And, okay, I may have forgotten to make the rice until after 9:30, but who cares. Homemade cashew chicken! Good!

It was the blandest, boring-est, waste-of-calories-est meal I've ever eaten. Total disappointment, especially for poor Juan who put in a 16 hour day at the hospital only to come home to crappy food and a wife who wouldn't STFU about how much dinner sucked.

So, in case any of you were wondering whether or not I still suck at all things domestic, the answer is yes. Yes, I do.

Nice Time

I have a confession to make--I lied last week when I wrote that Luke and I would be spending Spring Break lounging around the house. We did, but not our house. Instead, we flew to Utah and stayed with my parents for five days. The reason for the deception was that my very good friend Marcie (who reads this blog--hi, Marcie!) is having a baby in June and our friend Michele and I conspired to throw her a surprise baby shower last week complete with a surprise special guest--me! I couldn't exactly talk about my trip when she didn't know about it, ergo the lying. I'm sure you'll all forgive me someday for it.

The shower went well, Luke played wonderfully with Michele's 4 month old daughter, and my parents hardly let me hold him the rest of the week since all they wanted to do was play with their grandson. I can't say I'm feeling much more rested today than I was a week ago, though, what with Luke's refusal to nap longer than 30 minutes or go through the night without two or three wakings.

Since today is mostly just recovering from the excitement of our trip (U2 in 3D! IKEA! Visitors galore!) I'll leave you here with a few pictures of the boy on Easter when Arcadia suddenly had a personality transplant and decided to be very patient with him.


Well hello, this is something unusual


Okay, okay Daddy I see how to pet the kitty. Let me try!


I'm good at this!


And look, there's even this handy little tail for me to grab and put in my mouth! Mmmm.... kitty fur!


Wait, where are you going kitty?

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.

Seven Months

Luke turned seven months old yesterday, in what truly was one of the crummiest Mondays on record. He didn't sleep Sunday night, and then when I got to school I discovered that someone had stolen my classroom laptop over the weekend. Oh, and I forgot the breast pump at home.

Needless to say, I was not a fan of the seven month birthday, but today (after filing a police report, getting a loaner laptop at school, and experiencing a rare uninterrupted night of sleep) things are looking much brighter. Plus, my adorable boy has started smacking his lips and saying "Bah!" which we can now add to "Gah!" as his favorite syllable.



We're also moving ever closer to crawling as Luke has started getting up on his hands and knees unassisted. He knows he can get most places by rolling, but he's bound and determined to move forwards as well as sideways.



Sitting is also getting better every day, and while he really likes having someone to lean on, he's starting to discover how much fun he can have on his own. He looks so proud of himself when he manages to stay balanced while reaching for a toy--it cracks me up and melts my heart at the same time.



Overall, I'm giving a big thumbs up to seven months!

Hold onto your hats (errrr...nunchucks)

Remember all those news stories about people throwing Wii remote nunchuck controllers that came out a couple years ago? Remember laughing hysterically at the thought of perfectly capable, competent adults getting so involved in a video game that they actually threw the game through their TV? Well, Juan almost did that tonight, only instead of throwing it through the television he managed to almost break his elbow and the remote at the same time after swinging it a little too close to my armchair during a rousing game of Wii Bowling. He bowled, connected with the chair, the nunchuck went flying (it landed behind the dog's crate) and a number of curse words were yelled rather loudly while he clutched his elbow.

So, the moral of the story is: use the little rubber handgrip things that come with your Wii remote so it doesn't get broken if you happen to hurl it into space while playing. Also, don't gloat over your wins at Wii Tennis and Baseball after doing something like hurling your Wii remote into space while playing or else your wife might blog about it.

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.

Because more vents about education will only depress everyone

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.

Wii likey

In a moment of sheer insanity I told Juan that if he could find a Wii he could buy it. Call it an early birthday/Father's Day/anniversary present. I was convinced that he wouldn't be able to track one down, especially since most stores seem to get shipments in the middle of the week and his only days off are generally Saturdays and Sundays. Imagine my surprise when he got up at 6:00 this morning, headed over to Target, and managed to score one of the handful of systems they put on sale today.

Now, I am not a video game fan. I don't think I've so much as picked up a controller since the joystick went out of fashion, and the idea of spending hours repeating the same limited actions over and over again appeals about as much as a root canal. The Wii intrigued me, though, since at least it gets players up off the couch. So, when Juan brought the boxes home this morning I thought hey, maybe I'll like this.

No, I don't like it. I LOVE it! I kicked butt at Wii boxing (Juan's butt, to be precise) and bowling, but he can beat me pretty easily at tennis and baseball. We're both feeling the burn tonight too, since we were able to play for a solid 90 minutes during Luke's unheard of long afternoon nap. The only problem is that Jasper doesn't quite "get" what we're doing with the remotes and barks like crazy when he sees us playing. Oh well, for this much fun I'm willing to put up with a slightly loud puppy.

Geek 2.0?

Juan and I have often joked that we've set poor Luke up to hate school. With an MD/computer geek father and an English teacher/history nut mother, we're both clearly a little obsessed with learning and want to pass that on to him and his (future, someday, WHOLE DIFFERENT POST ENTIRELY) siblings. Whether or not he'll love school is something we obviously can't know yet, but hopefully he'll at least be interested in a subject or two and motivated to get good grades the same way we were.

I worry about his educational experience, though, because as a high school teacher I see every day just how much the No Child Left Behind Act is sucking fun and innovation out of our classrooms. By way of example, at every high school in our city students spend 6-8 weeks in every core class (English, Science, Math, and Social Studies) doing nothing but preparing for the state assessment test. In English we teach them to compose formulaic responses that wring all creativity out of their writing. In history they memorize dates of "important" historical events that have a decided Western/European bias. In math and science they memorize formulas and have less time for practical projects and experiments than they did pre-NCLB. In short, even students who generally enjoy school hate it from January through April because the focus is on passing the test rather than genuine learning. Things are worse on the elementary level because many schools throw certain subjects out the window entirely for weeks before a different subject test to just focus on skills needed for that test alone. No science in the weeks before the English test, no English in the weeks before the math test, etc... It's appalling.

Frankly, it worries me to think that Luke will have to deal with the repercussions of this era of "standards" in education. To be clear, I think we do need to measure student achievement in some way that doesn't involve report cards. Standardized tests are simply not enough to measure that success, though, particularly when you consider the things that a standardized test simply can't measure such as creativity, an individual's unique learning curve (since not everyone learns at exactly the same rate), and intellectual curiosity.

All of this is a very long-winded way of saying that I am rather concerned that by the time Luke gets to school there won't be any room for the types of fun and innovative learning that Juan and I were exposed to as students, particularly in the areas of math and science. I confess that I wasn't a fan of math and science classes when I was in school. English, history, art, and drama were where my talents lay, whereas I struggled with concepts that involved numbers. I still do, as a matter of fact. Juan, on the other hand, excelled across the board in school but he was especially gifted in math and science, and thanks to some excellent teachers he decided he loved them enough to major in Biology and go on to medical school.

I want Luke to have that experience if at all possible. Not necessarily the majoring-in-biology-going-on-to-medical-school bit, but the fun and interactive math and science lessons that can really capture a child's imagination and give them insight into the genuinely cool real world applications for these disciplines. We all need to understand basic math and science principles to function in today's world, and a more advanced understanding (and passion) only helps people who have passion for those subjects. I doubt many parents or teachers would disagree with me, and yet here we are. We're losing the point of so many subjects--teaching children how to think critically rather than just memorize facts--so we can evaluate how much they're learning. In what twisted world does that logic make sense?

Hopefully the educational pendulum will have swung back in the direction of sanity by the time Luke is in school. If not, well, I guess we'll be investing in some home chemistry, biology, and practical mathematics lessons in addition to the hundreds of books we already own. It just makes me sad that we even have to think about how his education may be lacking the very things that made school so enjoyable for us.

This post was inspired by the Parent Bloggers Network's Bringing Science Back blog blast. Go to PBN and read more about it!

The delightful thing about being married to someone who majored in Biology

Him: "Hey, what's the name of this DVD you want me to rip?"

*pause*

Me: "Jane Eyre"

Him: "Oh. How do you spell that?"

Me: (waits a minute to weigh the benefits of snarking him versus the very real possibility that he may refuse to finish making the DVD if I'm too snarky)

"J-a-n-e space E-y-r-e"

Him: "Shut up."

Me: (collapses in laughter)

Ah, love.

Fangirl

I implore you to RUN (figuratively speaking) to Jennifer Weiner's fantastic blog A Moment of Jen to read the first chapter of Certain Girls, her new book that's coming out in April. It's a sequel to Good in Bed, which is easily one of the best chick lit novels out there, and based on the first chapter Certain Girls is going to be another winner. Plus, infertility storyline! If there's a writer who's equipped to deal with infertility in a funny and sensitive way, it's Jennifer Weiner, hands-down.

What are you still doing here? Go, read, enjoy!

I think it's a hit

Want to know how to make your incredibly geeky husband really, really happy on Valentine's Day? Get your mind out of the gutter and (apparently) into...



He hasn't stopped grinning since he got home and opened it up. Methinks it's a hit.

The only thing keeping me from crying today makes me want to cry

I'm having a rough week. My students have been acting out for substitutes lately and (of course) I have a mandatory training off-campus all day tomorrow so there's going to be yet another sub coming in. Combine that with a grant application deadline that's looming, a lingering cold, and some very wakeful nights with Luke and I'm just miserable. It's a miracle I haven't fallen asleep or burst into tears in class, that's how tired and miserable I feel right now. All that's keeping me going right now is the knowledge that Juan doesn't have to work this weekend so he can take over parenting duties while I take some much needed naps, and that makes me feel even worse.

After all we went through to have Luke I feel guilty for whining about how tired or stressed I am even though I know these thoughts don't mean I'm not incredibly thankful to have him. I've seen some discussion about this guilt on parenting-after-infertility message boards, so I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. It's a "how dare I wish for a baby-free day when there are still so many couples out there who would kill for what I have" feeling that doesn't go away even though I know, intellectually, that being happy all the time just isn't realistic. I'm a new mom who hasn't had a decent night's sleep in over 6 months and has a full time job outside the home--it's not unreasonable for me to want a break from my life once in awhile. Try telling that to the little nagging voice in the back of my head, though.

Six months!

Today is Luke's 6 month birthday and it's hard to believe how fast the last half year has gone by. At his appointment on Friday he was 25.59 in. long (25th percentile) and weighed 14.69 lbs. (10th percentile) so he's still a small boy, but one who's growing every day.

The big news out of the visit was that he's teething! Surprise! Juan and I had no idea he was so close to cutting teeth, but the doctor took one look at his gums and declared that both bottom teeth are "right there". Sure enough, you can easily see them when he opens his mouth wide (which he's refusing to do right now, otherwise I'd share a picture) and I can even feel the sharp ridge of the right one when I feel his gums. He's being a trooper about them even though they must be uncomfortable, and other than a low fever he's been running on and off this weekend he's his normal happy self.

He's very anxious to be on the go, and while crawling isn't happening yet he's found a very effective way to scooch around on his back. The cats are less than thrilled with this development, and while they'll still come near him when he's on the floor they've learned to stay attentive to how close he is to their tails.

We've also started to see some real stranger anxiety from him, which is a bit early but not wholly surprising. There doesn't seem to be a consistent pattern with who he decides he doesn't like, but mostly he seems to be more afraid of women than of men.

Overall, though, Luke continues to be the happiest, most easygoing baby I've ever known. Happy half-birthday, little boy!

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.

Things parents should never, ever do at their child's school

Report cards came out last week and we're all starting to hear from parents who just can't understand why Tommy or Suzy didn't pass English even though they received MULTIPLE calls over the course of the semester about their child's poor grades. So, in honor of those parents, here are a few things that drive teachers absolutely crazy. If you're a parent, please take note to never, ever do these things. Ever.

-Ignore academic problems until it's too late
Last year I had a student whose parents didn't care about his failing grade in my class until three weeks before graduation. THREE WEEKS. By that time I had made a dozen calls to his home to inform them of his grade situation, the school counselor had been in touch about his chances of graduating, and five progress reports had gone out, all of which had contained failing grades. Three weeks before graduation, though, was the first time anyone from his family ever wanted to meet with me to discuss the situation, and by that point it was really too late to do anything to fix things. He ended up taking the class over in summer school.

-Lie to your spouse about your child's grades
A colleague of mine had an irate parent call the principal last year to complain that she had never informed him or his wife that their son was failing. After some back and forth between my coworker, both parents, and the principal it finally came out that she had spoken to the mom--twice--about the kid's grade but Mom didn't want Dad to know about it so she never told him about the calls. Bad idea. It was, as you can imagine, horribly embarrassing for the parents plus their son had to repeat that semester of English the following year.

-Just show up in the middle of the school day without any warning
Now, don't get me wrong, if your child is failing my class I want to meet with you in person. I don't, however, want to meet with you while I have a class in session. Last week a parent came by with her son to ask why he'd been marked tardy so many times. I would have been happy to talk about her son's issues with getting to my class on time, but not while I was in the middle of a lecture. Word to the wise--if you want to talk to your child's teacher make an appointment. Just showing up in the middle of the school day will never get you what you want.

In short, pay attention to your child's grades throughout the school year, keep your spouse informed of problems at school, and call ahead if you want to talk to your child's teacher about a problem.

The joy of 5 months old

Five months old has been very good to us so far. Luke is finally on something that resembles a nap schedule AND he put himself to sleep at naptime for the FIRST TIME EVER this morning. It took a few minutes of fussing and a dozen or so replacements of the pacifier after he ripped it out of his mouth so he could yell a bit, but finally he just rolled over, closed his eyes, and is now out like a light.

He's not quite able to sit up on his own yet, but with a little assistance from a Boppy pillow he can stay up for quite awhile. His tummy muscles are clearly able to support sitting, it's just his balance that's a bit iffy still. He's not tripoding much, but I think that in the next few weeks he'll figure that out.

His favorite toy is still his Exersaucer (though Juan thinks it's encouraging his ADD side since sometimes he'll play with each toy for 15 seconds before spinning to the next--I think it's hysterical) and we're going to have to increase its height pretty soon since he's almost too tall for the lowest setting. Anything that involves standing (while supported) is a big hit, which is probably why he's still wobbly while sitting--it's difficult to get him to want to sit some days!

We were at Costco on Saturday since I had an eye appointment, and I can't even tell you how many people came up to me and commented on what a happy little boy Luke seemed to be. And it's true--he's just the smiliest, silliest, most content baby I've ever met. He loves interacting with people but is generally okay to be by himself too. He's not showing much stranger anxiety yet (though we think it's coming soon based on a few experiences he's had recently with new people when he's tired) and flirts shamelessly with other babies and big kids when we're out and about. When we're in the car he mostly sleeps or sits quietly looking out the window. Gone are the days when he'd just scream and scream in his carseat--he still doesn't like being buckled in, but once he's there he's happy as a clam.

Overall, five months seems pretty good, and that makes me extraordinarily happy. Every month I think that things can't get much better, that he can't get any cuter, and then he does. It's amazing. I feel like the luckiest woman on the planet to have gotten such a wonderful little boy as my son.

Five Months

A few days late, but better late than never.



In other news, Kathleen is having her baby as I type! Congratulations, Kathleen and Brett!!!

Poor Baby

Luke has his first cold, and if there's anything more miserable than being sick with a newborn it's having a baby who's sick. Poor boy has been feverish, stuffy, and coughing since Monday and we're all feeling the strain. The good news is that (for the most part) he's still his happy, smiling self most of the day. The bad news is that he's waking up 6-7 times a night, which is making for both a tired baby and a tired Mama.

With any luck he'll kick the cold in the next few days and we'll be able to go back to our usual schedule. In the meantime, please send good health (and sleep) vibes Luke's way!


Please get better quickly, baby!

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.

Did you know...

Want to know how to make 100 teachers scared out of their ever-loving minds? Spend 8 hours lecturing them about gang and school violence (complete with demonstrations on just how easy it is to conceal dozens of semi-automatic weapons in a pair of baggy jeans) but don't say a WORD about exactly which gangs are active at their school or what kinds of weapons the school's cop is pulling off students.

It's been a fun first day back at work.

We're starting to calm down a bit after the accident, in a segue that has absolutely nothing to do with the above observations, and I was even able to get a decent night's sleep for the first time since it happened. Hopefully that continues since the (suddenly scary) students come back to school on Monday and it's going to be a tough first few days back as they adjust to actually having to do work for the first time in two weeks.

I just hope none of them are packing heat.

Pardon the dust

A new year seems like a good time for a new look around here. The design and layout will likely be changing over the next few days, so apologies if the blog suddenly becomes difficult to read.

PSA

We're safely home and, well, that fact is more significant than it may appear on first blush. Yesterday afternoon we had a pretty bad car accident on our way back to Salt Lake from Idaho. The roads got icy very quickly and our car rolled. We got very, very lucky and nobody was injured. The accident happened when there weren't any other cars around us and the car rolled off the shoulder (and not into oncoming traffic) in an area where there was a lot of brush and snow, so damage to the car and to us was about as minimal as it gets with a rollover. We were also all wearing seatbelts, and I've never been so thankful for a piece of fabric in my entire life.

People, wear your seatbelts. Make your kids wear their seatbelts. Make your mothers and your sisters and your friends wear their seatbelts. It doesn't matter how good a driver you are or how many times you've driven that stretch of road; an accident can happen in an instant, and frequently there's nothing you specifically do to cause it. I can't even count the number of times we've made that same drive, usually in worse weather conditions than the ones we encountered on Friday. It didn't matter--we hit ice and that was it. If we hadn't been wearing seatbelts (and Luke hadn't been strapped into his carseat) we certainly wouldn't have walked away from the crash without a scratch, and we might not have walked away at all. Wear your seatbelts.

Everything but the kitchen sink

Packing for our first trip away from home with Luke is...challenging. I'm fighting the urge to just throw every piece of clothing, toy, and baby accessory we own into his suitcase to cover all the bases, and clearly that isn't an option. Experienced mom packers, what's one thing that you wished you had brought with you on your child's first overnight trip?

Reasons why this is not a good week to mess with me

I am not the most pleasant person to be around this week. Luke has officially entered the 4 month wakeful stage (so nicely coinciding with the week we're taking him on his first overnight trip away from home) and I'm dead on my feet. Between his sudden decision to drop his evening nap and the last few nights of "MAMA, I IS AWAKE AND WANT TO PLAY!" shrieking into the monitor at 3:00 am (both before and after feeding, I might add) we're not getting much rest around here right now. Mom, Dad, Julia--you are officially drafted for baby duty when we get to Salt Lake this weekend so Juan and I can take a nap.

Anyhow, all of this is just to explain to you exactly why my students don't want to mess with my right now. Aside from the fact that I'm so tired I just spelled "right" as "reight" and had to pause a second when spellcheck flagged it because it looked okay to my sleepy eye, my work laptop was abducted by the IT department yesterday and I had nothing to do (seriously, I couldn't even grade papers, that's how dependent we are on those laptops at my school) for 8 hours. On a normal day that wouldn't have been a problem, but I was giving exams so I couldn't even while the time away by giving a lecture or three. I didn't bring my knitting because I thought I'd have my laptop, and reading a book during an exam just isn't kosher.

So, I started off the day in a bad mood because I was very tired and very annoyed that my computer was forcibly taken from me by people who swore that it would "only take an hour" to do whatever needed to be done to make the computer less vulnerable to hackers or elves or whoever else might want to invade my files. Then my students decided to forget the million or so reminders I had given them for the last week that their final was today and they needed their books, two pieces of blank paper, and a working pen or pencil. Over half of them showed up to class without anything at all and had to book it to their lockers to get the things they're supposed to bring to class every day.

I'd just like to state for the record that I was a very anal retentive high school student. I always brought my books to class; was never without a large spiral notebook and lots of pens; and I never, EVER forgot about a test. So, you can see how frustrating and perplexing it is for someone like me to be confronted with not one, but at least a dozen students who simply "forgot" that today was their test and *gasp!* they needed school supplies to take it. That doesn't include the two kids who outright refused to take the test (resulting in automatic referrals to the Assistant Principal's office) and the one kid who, for some reason, decided to crumple up his essay and put his gum in it so it was impossible for me to grade. I swear, the scheduling clerk gave me all the winners in this year's sophomore class.

Anyway, I'm very much looking forward to Friday since I have the day off to run errands and get us packed before we leave town Saturday. The kids and I need a break from one another.

Four Months

Luke turned four months old on Monday, and I have to say that I am LOVING this age. He babbles constantly, smiles and giggles when you play with him, still wants to snuggle a fair amount, and loves nothing more than reaching for toys and then jamming them firmly into his mouth. He's also started to enjoy the sitting position quite a bit, and just in the last few days he's stopped arching his back and trying to "stand" when we get him to sit.

Vital stats from today's pediatrician appointment:

Length: 23.6 in.
Weight: 13.6 lbs.
Head Circumference: 16.5

We've gotten the go-ahead to start him on rice cereal, so we'll probably give it a try this weekend. Surprisingly, he didn't have a major meltdown after his shots, and right now he's happily playing with Juan and acting like nothing in particular happened at all today. Hopefully this is the way all of his future vaccinations go (as if)!

Now we need to gear up to face our next big hurdle--traveling to see both sides of the family for Christmas.

homeownership bites (no, really)

The roof is leaking, sheetrock needs to be replaced (since it's now wet from said leaking roof), one swamp cooler is shot, and the cat is peeing on furniture again.

Oh, and it's only Monday.

That kind of day

Today was the kind of day that reminded me of the best and worst parts of my job. The best:

-actually getting kids who normally do nothing but goof off to do serious work,
-having a student trust me enough to ask for my advice about a serious personal problem,
-and having some free time during the day to stop and chat with my friends

and the worst:

-not knowing what to say to the student who came to me with the personal problem,
-having a student ditch class and steal my stapler,
-and practically dying of heat exhaustion in my classroom since the building's a/c is broken.

I also had the opportunity to learn that over half my students think that Europe, Africa, Paris, and Barcelona are all countries, and that two of them think that plagiarism shouldn't be a big deal because teachers apparently do it "all the time" with no consequences.

The extreme good and bad of teaching rarely coincide on the same day, but today was clearly special.

Dear Students (stupid, stupid students)

Dear Students,

You may wonder why my door is frequently closed and locked before school, during lunch, and during my conference period. Those of you who need to talk to me about different issues (usually related to excuses you have concocted in an attempt to get me to accept late homework) might find it irritating or inconvenient to come to my classroom only to find that you can't get in. For that, I am sincerely sorry.

Those of you who actually pay attention in class should remember that I have said (and repeated ad nauseum) that if you need to see me when my door is CLOSED AND LOCKED you should leave a note for me in my box. I'll come find you so we can discuss whatever pressing issue is on your mind. Those of you who spend class time braiding your hair or flirting with a member of the opposite sex, however, may not have absorbed this information, so you knock on my CLOSED AND LOCKED door when it is CLOSED AND LOCKED. Those of you with more than three brain cells to rub together will come to the conclusion that I'm not inside when no one answers your knock, and hopefully you'll come back later. Those of you who, I assume, don't have any brain cells at all (and no, I don't want to know why) will decide that maybe I'm inside, desperate to visit with you in spite of my CLOSED AND LOCKED door, and will rattle the knob. And knock again. And rattle the knob. And knock yet again. This tactic, while it will force me to make a mental note to remind all six of my classes of what to do if my door is CLOSED AND LOCKED, will not gain you entry. There is a very simple reason for this, and I guarantee you really don't want to know what it is.

Really? You want to know? That much?

When I'm in my room with the door CLOSED AND LOCKED and there isn't a class in session, I'm not grading papers. I'm also not talking to parents about confidential student issues (although this is what I will tell you in person if you ever ask). I'm not even having a wild party with all the other cool teachers. I'm pumping. Breastmilk. To feed my baby.

See, I told you that you didn't want to know.

So, I encourage you to respect the fact that when my door is CLOSED AND LOCKED, I will not let you in no matter how much you bang on the (tastefully frosted) glass or rattle the handle. Even if I'm inside, there's no way you're gaining entry. Accept it and move on, but please don't waste ten minutes of your time trying to break in. It won't work, and (if I ever find out who you are) it will almost certainly affect your grade in a very negative way.

Sincerely,

Mrs. M

P.S. I worry for the future of our nation when a 15-18 year old cannot understand that a CLOSED AND LOCKED door means that either no one is inside the room or someone is inside and they don't want to be disturbed.

P.P.S. In case anyone cares, our nanny made it home from Mexico late Sunday night, so daycare crisis averted. Barely.

I don't have the right kind of personality for my life today

I don't do well under stress. My anxiety genes take over the rational parts of my brain (you know, those parts that recognize that relatively minor annoyances don't constitute cause for large-scale freakouts) and I end up massively overreacting in the worst way. Take the last 24 hours, for example. Last night I learned the following:

-Our nanny may not make it back home from Mexico by Monday morning, which is when Luke is supposed to start with her. We had no backup childcare arranged.

-My principal expects us to perform the pedagogical equivalent of performing backflips on a balance beam before learning how to walk, all in the next two weeks.

-Juan will be working the night we return home from our Christmas vacation, leaving me home alone with a baby who will almost certainly be overstimulated, sleep deprived, and mad as hell at having his schedule so screwed up.

Number three is annoying, but it's just something to get through. Number two caused me quite a few headaches until I figured out how to juggle a few things around on my calendar to "make it work" this morning. Number one, however, is what kept me up most of last night, even after getting the names of some highly recommended in-home daycare providers from one of our friends.

I think it's the uncertainty of these kinds of situations that just kills me. I don't do well with change as a general rule, and when I'm forced into changing plans (be they big or small) I tend to resist with every last ounce of strength I have. Professionally and personally this isn't a very good personality trait for me to have (as my colleagues remind me at times like these, flexibility is the name of the game when you work in education) and my inflexible nature then turns every unexpected event into a crisis to stress and obsess over ad nauseum.

We have backup childcare set up now, though I don't like it as much as I like our nanny. The school stuff has been sorted out for the most part, and, well, the Christmas thing is just going to suck. So why do I still feel like I'm in panic mode? Why are my nerves on edge and why am I snapping at everyone who dares come near me? I wish I knew, and I wish I could just turn off whatever part of my personality reacts to stressful situations this way.

One year ago today...

Exactly one year and one day ago I was convinced I wasn't pregnant. I came home after a long day of work to an empty house since Juan was on call, made some dinner, drank a beer, and started meticulously planning out my next cycle. It was going to be our 21st--twenty one months since we had started trying to get pregnant. I was considering taking a break for a cycle or two until our insurance processed the paperwork for my referral to a local RE but hadn't made up my mind one way or another yet.

In any case, I ate, I watched some TV and I went to bed. It was an altogether unremarkable night, but it was also one I'll remember for the rest of my life.

Exactly one year ago today I woke up, brushed my teeth, turned on the shower, and (just for the heck of it) took a pregnancy test. I expected it would be negative--hell, I was testing when Juan wasn't even home, that's how much I was expecting a negative result. Except...it wasn't negative. It was positive. Positive.

I remember thinking that I should be crying. You're supposed to cry when you finally get the one thing you've wanted more than anything else for almost two years, right? I couldn't cry, though. All I could do was stare at that test. Positive.

Sitting here now, staring down at Luke, part of me still can't believe that it really happened or that I'm really, finally, a mother. It's been an amazing journey, and I feel like the luckiest person alive to have taken it.



I love you, little boy. You were unquestionably worth the wait.

This time the kitchen fire wasn't my fault

Juan started a fire in our oven on Thanksgiving.

Let me repeat that for those of you who are now staring at your screen in disbelief. JUAN started a FIRE in our oven on Thanksgiving. Juan, not C. The male half of our relationship started the fire. The one who never does stupid things in the kitchen almost burned our house down. That one.

Hee.

As you can tell from the lighthearted tone of this post, no serious damage was done (except the damage to Juan's food) and we were able to put the tiny fire out in about ten seconds, but still. I wasn't the one who caused culinary mayhem this time.

But let me rewind things a bit so you can get a full appreciation for what actually went down at our house last Thursday night. Being a fan of red meat and a decided hater of seafood, Juan responded to my decision to serve lobster for Thanksgiving dinner with a request for something that didn't swim. Fair enough, so my parents and I prepared our feast while Juan planned his own. We had lobster, shrimp, snow crab, spanikopita, apple pie, and (just for Juan) steak. Since there were so many different dishes (all of which had to be served piping hot) and one of us had to juggle Luke since he wasn't napping well that day, we ate in shifts. My parents and I dug into our lobster while Juan's steak was still broiling in the oven and everything was going very well until Luke needed a diaper change. Juan checked the steak, decided it needed a few more minutes under the broiler, and took the baby upstairs while my parents and I continued eating. Suddenly, smoke started pouring out of the oven and all the smoke detectors in the house went off at the same time.

Needless to say, scrambling ensued.

Sure enough, the steak had caught on fire while it was in the oven. Juan's steak was pretty charred, but some quick moves by my dad managed to save a small corner of it so he still had something to eat for dinner. The oven appears to be undamaged and we're very, very sure that the smoke detectors work properly, so overall the night wasn't a complete bust.

I should probably feel bad for crowing a bit over Juan's mishap, but given how much pleasure he's taken from my kitchen catastrophes over the years, it seems only fair for me to take some pleasure from his.

I take it back

Something exciting IS happening in our house after all! My mom and I went to lunch and a movie this afternoon in celebration of her birthday and when we came home my dad told us that he and Luke had a surprise for us. He propped Luke up with some couch cushions, made a funny noise, and Luke LAUGHED! My baby laughs!

In other baby news, Luke slept in his own room, by himself, for the first time last night and did great. I, on the other hand, hardly slept a wink for worrying about him. Hopefully tonight is better, otherwise it's going to be a very sleepy Thanksgiving for me.

Vacation, WOO!!!

I'm probably a little too excited about the Thanksgiving break given that I've only been back at work for a week and a half. I am excited, though, especially since my parents are still in town, Juan's week off starts on Thursday, and we have four delicious lobster tails in the freezer.

As you can see, I don't have any scintillating stories to share so I'll just wish you all a very happy (early) Thanksgiving.

Zzzzzzzzz...

Day three and I'm still alive. Being back at work has been hard. It's not just leaving Luke (who is doing much better at taking bottles, by the way) but it's also the fact that teaching is physically exhausting even when I'm not operating on 4-5 hours of sleep a night. I'd sort of forgotten how much energy it takes to jump around a classroom keeping kids engaged for 8 hours a day, and especially given the situation I'm coming back to discipline-wise I can't slack at all while they're in the room.

Anyway, I'm tired and will be going to bed now even though tonight is the premiere of Project Runway ans I never miss Project Runway. Better to delay the first "make it work" of 2007 than end up passed out and drooling over my laptop.

I came, I saw, I wanted to go home

Well, at least I didn't cry.

The first day back was predictably difficult and I spent most of my time feeling discombobulated after spending 6 months out of the classroom. The kids (who got away with murder during my absence) don't especially like the fact that I'm *gasp!* enforcing the rules, but I think things will settle down in a few weeks.

As for Luke, he spent the day displaying the kind of stubbornness only my child is capable of and refused to eat more than an ounce and a half all day. Wish us all luck in trying to convince him to take a bottle more readily tomorrow.

I may have a nervous breakdown, but at least I have a stapler

I've spent a good 10 hours putting my classroom back together this week (suffice it to say that I am less than thrilled about how my sub took care of it) as a way of focusing my anxiety about going back to work on something other than actual work. Fretting about the decided lack of a stapler in my room was a lot more appealing than thinking too hard about the fact that I would be away from Luke for at least 9 hours a day starting on Monday. We put the finishing touches on things this afternoon, and now all that's left is for me to walk in there tomorrow morning prepared to lecture my heart out about the English Renaissance and Elizabethan sonnets. Either that, or I'll break down in tears before the first bell rings. Who knows.

I wasn't even cooking...

Remember this and this? Yeah, well at least those times I was trying to make something.

We had a big day here today (rolling! Luke rolled over!!!) so I decided to celebrate with a nice glass of wine after Juan got home. I went upstairs to the wine fridge, picked out a good Riesling, and pulled out the corkscrew. I had a hard time getting it to actually puncture the cork, but I just thought that the foil around the top was especially thick or something. After a minute I got it in, though, and it was remarkably easy to finish screwing it in.

And then I pulled up. And...no cork came out. Because there wasn't a cork, it was a screw top.

Exhibit A:



After Juan picked himself up off the floor where he had (literally) collapsed from laughing, he insisted on taking photos to commemorate the event. I confess that I was laughing pretty hard by that point too because, really, WHO DOES THAT?

Anyway, that was my evening, and the upside of all of this was that we had to drink a whole bottle of really delicious wine. Pumping and dumping, here I come!

**I would just like to add here that while I'm slightly buzzed, Juan can't turn his head too quickly or he'll fall over. We had exactly the same amount to drink. I may have tried to use a corkscrew with a screw-top bottle, but my husband's the lightweight in our relationship.**

One Week Left

One week from today I'll be back at work. I'll leave Luke with my parents (who generously offered to come down to help ease me back into the workplace by providing childcare for my first work week) pull out of the garage, and head back to the classroom. I'll be perfectly honest here and say that part of me is really looking forward to it. I've missed teaching, missed my colleagues, and missed having adult (well, semi-adult--I do teach teenagers, after all) conversations during the day. But... I won't be with my boy all day anymore. I won't get to see his smile a dozen times before breakfast, won't be able to spend endless hours playing with him, and won't be the one to provide everything he needs 24/7. That last one is hitting me particularly hard today. One of the most overwhelming things about new motherhood is how much you're needed all the time, and while it can be a shock to the system in the beginning, I really do love how much Luke needs me.

My favorite part of staying at home has been that I've been able to be there for everything. Aside from the handful of times that I've left Luke with someone else for a couple of hours, he's gotten just about everything he could possibly need from me. Now I'm going to have to not only hand him off to a caregiver every morning, but I'm also going to have to come to terms with the fact that that caregiver will do the things I used to do between the hours of 8:00 and 4:00. She'll feed him, cuddle him, get him to take naps, love him, play with him, and be everything he needs her to be. There's a big part of me that really doesn't want anyone else to provide those things for him even though I know that he'll be fine, he'll still need me, and that it's good for him to learn how to trust people outside of our immediate family.

So if I'm not very talkative for the next week, it's because I'm soaking up every last minute of these few days Luke and I have left together. They're precious to me, and even though I'm looking forward to returning to work, I'll probably always second guess my decision to go back because it means letting him need someone else.

Three Months Old

When You Send C to Target...

Yesterday J discovered that we were almost out of diapers, so he asked me to run to Target sometime today to pick some up. He really should have known what he was getting himself into at that point, but alas he didn't remember the Cardinal Rule of Target. Namely, Do Not Send C There By Herself Or You Will Live To Regret It.

But I get ahead of myself.

So, there I was, Luke by my side, and the entirety of Target in front of me. I like Target. In fact, I'll go as far as to say that I love Target just a little bit. So much stuff! Such reasonable prices!

Diapers, right. I needed diapers. Oh, and Stage 2 nipples for Luke's bottles since we're hoping that a faster flow will help end Bottle Strike: 2007.

(is it me or am I giving a lot of things proper names in this post?)



Diapers and bottle nipples, check!

But the baby section was tantalizingly close to the Halloween section, and it wouldn't hurt to check out the deals, would it? No, indeed it would not. And, in fact, I found some great ones!



This t-shirt--only $5!



This wreath, 50% off!



CANDY! It's Halloween and we need CANDY!



Oh, and a festive felt bucket to put the candy in!

But really, I shouldn't buy anything else.

Or should I???



"The Office" stuff! They have I (heart) Jim notepads! Magnets! Just fifty cents!



(And yes, I do plan to use the I (heart) Jim notepads for my hall passes when I go back. So there, boring post-it note people!)



MOVIES! J was just saying the other day that he wanted Transformers and the latest season of "Scrubs"!



(please note, I was a cool wife and bought the version of Transformers with a box that actually is a Transformer. Best Wife Ever.)

Needless to say, by the time I was done there was barely any room for the baby in my cart, much less any other random Target merchandise. Thus I checked out, crammed everything into my trunk somehow, and ended up at home on Halloween night taking pictures of my Target purchases.



Luke is not impressed by Target, but Daddy is pretty happy about his movies.

Wow. Mommy guilt really sucks.

We're not having a good week. Luke started a bottle strike over the weekend (he'll reluctantly take one from me, but not from anyone else) and I found out yesterday that our daycare center won't be able to take him in December after all. Add this to the stress I was already feeling about going back to work, and I'm kind of a wreck at the moment. The guilt I'm feeling about this--about knowing that he won't eat if I'm not around and that we're now having to make some tough decisions about who will care for him in just a month--is tremendous. I've never felt like this before, and there's a rising sense of panic thrown in with the bone-crushing guilt because at least the bottle issue has to be resolved quickly. Quickly, as in tonight or tomorrow because I'm going to parent/teacher conferences Thursday night and Luke will be staying with a sitter and Juan. I don't know how I'm going to sit there and make small talk with parents and kids I've never met before if I know that my baby is probably hungry and crying at home because he doesn't realize that people who aren't Mama can give him the food he needs.

Aaaaand now I'm crying.

Motherhood is hard in ways I never imagined, and these issues are just two examples of the problems I couldn't have dreamed of only 11 short weeks ago. I honestly don't know what to do.

Yeah, it's worth it

I have had it up to here with my sub. He's a moron who hasn't taken his job seriously from Day 1, and now we could both get in serious trouble because of his attitude.

BUT...

Every time I get angry about this situation, I try to remind myself of why I have a sub in the first place.



To have Luke, to have had the chance to spend the last 11 weeks doing nothing but caring for this precious little boy, I'd do it all over again a million times.

Unreasonable anxiety

The coverage of the horrible wildfires in California has me on edge. Fire is one of the few things I'm truly phobic of. I still have nightmares about the day a 4 alarm fire broke out in the building across the street from our condo back in Maryland. I left for the grocery store and everything was fine, came back and there were fire trucks and visible flames in my neighborhood. Thankfully that fire didn't spread beyond the original building, but it was still the closest I've ever come to a destructive fire.

Now, watching news coverage of what's happening in San Diego and L.A., I'm seized with anxiety and "what if it happened here"s. After feeling horrified when I read that some people only got a few minutes notice before the fires hit their streets, I started to wonder what I would do in that situation. I know I could get Luke into the car quickly--he's never more than a few paces away from me at this point--but Jasper and the cats are a different story. The truth is that I probably couldn't corral both Codi and Arcadia without at least half an hour lead time. That terrifies me. I can't even think about the fact that my car is too small for me, the baby, the dog, and the cats to all really fit without feeling panicked.

I really should turn off the TV and stop reading online stories about the fires. First, though, I'm going to make a donation to the Red Cross to help with relief efforts and read up on wildfire preparedness. Just in case.

Three Things

Amalah posted this challenge today and since I'm in a meme-y mood (and since it's a very good question) I thought I'd tackle it. To wit:

What are the three things you wish for your kids to experience in their lives?

1) To always feel safe and loved at home.

I've always had a very strong connection to my parents and "home". It made moving away after college really hard and is the main reason why I talk to them at least twice a week. I always knew that no matter what I could go home if I needed to feel safe and loved. Even though Luke will live in a number of different houses and cities as he grows up, I dearly hope he always feels that he can come "home" to me and Juan whenever he needs unconditional love and protection.

2) To make a difference in someone else's life

Few things are more significant, in my opinion, than making the world a better place for another person. There's really not much more I can say than that.

3) To have lifelong friendships

I thought long and hard about this third one because experiencing love is certainly something I want for Luke. Friendship is an important kind of love, more important than romantic love in many ways, and I know that I wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn't for my friends. You need people to turn to when things are bad, when you're unhappy, and when you need to talk problems over with someone outside of your family. I want Luke to know what that feels like, and I certainly want to send him out into the world knowing that he has people he can turn to no matter what happens. Everyone needs those kinds of friends.