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.

Eight Things About My Marriage

The lovely M has tagged me for this meme and I confess to having sat on it for a couple of days just to think about my answers.

1) Where did you meet your husband?

Juan and I first met at a Golden Key Honor Society regional meeting that our university's chapter was hosting. I got roped into volunteering by two friends who wanted me to join and Juan was already a member. We worked the registration table together and I don't think he said more than a couple of words to me the whole night. Anyone who knows Juan knows just how absorbed he can get when a laptop is in front of him, so I can't blame him for completely ignoring the future love of his life that particular night. ;-P

We re-met at the start of the 2001-2002 school year when I joined GK and we started eating lunch together with our mutual friends. That's when we actually got to know one another.

Incidentally, two of my good friends also met/started dating their future husbands because they were involved in GK, so at one point we had a semi-serious discussion with Headquarters about marketing the society as a dating service. Oh, the eyes that must have rolled in Atlanta during THAT phone call...

2) What was the first thing you said to your husband?

Oh geez, I have no idea. Probably, "Hi, I'm Carolyn." I assume he grunted something in return. He's a man of few words.

3) Where was your first kiss? First date?

First kiss is easy--on the couch in his room while watching "The Simpsons"..

First date...that's a bit harder. See, we have different ideas about what our first date actually was since we hung out as friends a few times before what I consider to be our first real romantic date. Juan disagrees and says that those friend outings were also dates, so I'm going to tell my version of the story and then let him tell his.

Carolyn's story: After I discovered that Juan hadn't seen the movie "Shrek" yet (remember that this was early November, 2001) I proposed a trip to the dollar theater near our university to see it. We went, we ate Reese's Pieces, and midway through the movie he reached over and held my hand. It was the first time he'd worked up the courage to let me know in an explicit way that he liked me as more than a friend, which is why it was CLEARLY our real first date.

Juan's story: Okay, so he won't guest blog for me, but in a nutshell he came to my work one night (Halloween, actually) to ask me if I'd go to an Air Force ROTC Dining Out (for those unfamiliar with bizarre military traditions, it's essentially a roast/fancy dinner) the following night since he had to attend as an Army ROTC representative. I recall him saying that he "needed" a date, so I assumed that he was asking me because we were friends and he was asking me to do him a favor. The fact that he gave me 24 hours notice also contributed to this impression. He believed (and still believes to this day) that I should have somehow known, given this setup, that he was asking me out on an actual date-date. Anyway, I had to get my prom dress cleaned overnight since it was the only thing I owned that was fancy enough, we went, had a good time, and really started dating a little over a week later.

4) Did you have a long or short courtship/engagement?

We dated for 18 months (long by Utah standards) and were engaged for less than a month before eloping. The reasons for the elopement were far less interesting than most people probably assume. Basically, we realized that given Juan's medical school schedule there was no way for us to get a marriage license in Utah (where we both agreed the wedding had to be) without literally camping out in front of the County Clerk's office less than an hour before our Monday morning ceremony. We couldn't change the date or convince the clerk to waive a rule about how long a license could be issued before the marriage took place, so we were legally married in Maryland 8 months before our family ceremony in Utah.

5) Where did you get engaged?

In my parents' living room in front of my entire family. Not exactly what I had always dreamed of, but it was very sweet nonetheless.

6) Where did you get married?

Our legal ceremony was in downtown Bethesda, Maryland; but what we think of as our "real" wedding was at Red Butte Gardens in Salt Lake City.

7) How did the reception go?

I thought it was pretty fun. We had a light lunch for everyone, people talked and had a good time catching up (our wedding was small enough that most people knew almost all of the other guests), and there was a sword to cut the cake. Who could ask for more than that?

8) How was the honeymoon?

Aside from the fact that there's really not much to do in the Poconos in March and the fact that I had to spend one afternoon trying to manage a work crisis that erupted because a stupid Congressional staffer WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS BECAUSE I AM A NICE PERSON decided to lose a map I hand delivered to his office and then lied about it to my boss, it was a lot of fun.

Hmmm... I think I'll tag Kathleen, Mama A, and Mama Emily to do this one next.

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Rememberance Day

I am woefully late in updating with this today (it's been quite a day) but I wanted to link to the Pregnancy and Infant Loss Rememberance Day site as today is their Day of Light. Please take a moment, light a candle, and send good thoughts to those in your life who have experienced a loss.

The Other Side of the Fence

I've spent a lot of time recently thinking about friendship. The friends I lost while going through infertility, the friends I gained, and the friendships I already had that grew stronger through shared heartache all occupy a significant portion of my thoughts these days.

Friendship is something I've always struggled with (I spent most of my childhood agonizing over why I didn't have friends and now that I'm an adult I've had to move away from the wonderful friends I made in Salt Lake and DC) so thinking about lost friends always saddens me. The combination of infertility and distance cost me one of the closest friendships I've ever had, and I know that's something I'll always be angry about. It also helped me grow closer to two friends I'd had for years, and if nothing else I'm grateful I had the chance to support them and get their support while we were still trying to conceive.

Now that I'm on the other side of the infertility "fence" though, I'm struggling with completely different issues. Namely, how do I stay a good friend to those who are still going through infertility hell? How do I know when to back off and give my friends space if that's what they need? How do I make sure not to say or do something that hurts them? You would think (hell, I would think) that it would be easy to know what to do since I've been there myself, but what's right for one person isn't necessarily right for another.

I've been very open about my infertility from day one. My parents and sister know about it--they even read this blog daily. All of my friends know what we went through; my in-laws know; and because I was a patient at J's hospital while we were searching for a diagnosis, many of his coworkers are aware of our problems as well. In spite of the intensely private nature of infertility, I had no problem with "going public". Talking about what was going on, sharing our story, and trying my best to de-stigmatize it helped me cope. I know that's not the case with everyone, though, which is one of the reasons why I think I'm having such a hard time knowing how to "be there" for my infertile friends now. Most of them aren't as open about their struggles as I was (and am) so the things I wanted people to do when I was in their shoes such as e-mails asking how I was doing, phone calls to check up on me after another failed cycle, etc... likely aren't what they want from me now. There's also the issue of Luke--I know that seeing or hearing about a new baby while you're infertile can be incredibly difficult. I never want to cause my friends the pain I felt when someone insensitively sent me unsolicited baby photos or wouldn't stop talking about their children while we spent time together.

I want to be a good friend. I know those I care about who are still battling infertility need good friends. I just need to know how to be what they need me to be.

Sunday at the Patch

I've been a little obsessed with pumpkins lately. Specifically, with pumpkin patches. We never went to one when I was little, so my first exposure to a "real" patch (as opposed to the piles of pumpkins at the grocery store around Halloween) was in college. After visiting Thanksgiving Point I decided that when I had kids we'd go to the pumpkin patch every year to buy our jack-o-lanterns. So, last weekend I started researching patches in El Paso and today we packed up the boy and drove to New Mexico to the La Union Pumpkin Patch. Luke was...unimpressed. We had a great time, though, and got some really nice pictures of the three of us.

Top Chef!

Anyone else see a resemblance here?


Top Chef's Dale


Luke

I think this seals the deal--we're rooting for Team Dale during tomorrow night's finale. Mohawk wearers unite!

Baby Smiles

Peaceful Moments and a Big Milestone

I'm on the mend again, and while I still have a stuffy nose my fever has broken and I was able to get a good night's sleep on Tuesday. Last night was a bit rough because Luke had a hard time staying asleep, but overall I feel much better.

I know I keep saying this, but things are going too quickly. I go back to work in just over a month, Luke's going be seven weeks old tomorrow, and as often as I tell myself that I'm going to slow down and try to appreciate all of the wonderful things about having a newborn I still find myself rushing around and missing little moments. The first few weeks of his life seemed to go by so slowly, but now there aren't enough hours in the day to do everything and still spend hours just staring at him.

Luke is finding ways to make me slow down, though, most notably by giving me his first genuine for-sure smile yesterday. He was in his crib after a diaper change, and greeted me with a huge grin when I went to pick him up after washing my hands. We spent the next 10 minutes exchanging smiles, and I only wish I'd thought to run downstairs and grab the camcorder or camera to capture the moment. I promise to post some smiling pictures soon, though.

In lieu of a smile, then, I thought I'd give you all a sneak peek of the photo we picked for his birth announcements--the precious boy, asleep in his swing.

Sicky sick sick

If there's anything less fun than being sick when you have a baby I want to know what it is. Maybe it'll make me feel better. Fever + cranky baby + husband who can't stay home to lend a hand = miserable C.

Grandma is wise

Back when my parents were here (a whopping 4 weeks ago--good grief, having a baby has totally distorted my perception of time since 4 weeks feels like 4 months right now) my mom told us an hilarious story about how when I was a newborn she and my dad made all of these little charts and graphs to try to figure out if there was any rhyme or reason to my behavior.

(I should add here that I was an incredibly difficult and colicky newborn, so I don't blame them for trying to figure out what made me tick and/or scream all the time)

Naturally, there was no method to the infant madness, and they gave up on the charts after realizing that I just did things when I darn well felt like doing them.

Well, guess what brilliant idea I had over the weekend? That's right, a lightbulb went off in my head and I thought "Hey, let's chart Luke's meals, naps, and moods so we can figure out what his schedule is!"

I am such an idiot who needs to listen to my mother more often.

All week I kept Excel spreadsheets detailing Luke's every move. When he ate, when he slept, when he pooped, etc... Guess what I found? That's right, there's ABSOLUTELY NO PATTERN TO HIS BEHAVIOR WHATSOEVER.

Surprise, surprise, my newborn is acting like a newborn.

I did learn a few things, though, mostly about how I need to try to control his day a little less. I'm the queen of managing my own time down to the minute if I need to, and in college my friends used to tease me for being rigid about following my strategically planned day as outlined in my day planner. Life would clearly end if I took longer than 12 minutes to walk from my dorm to the student union back then. Now I need to realize that babies (and older kids) do things on their own time, and it's okay to relax a bit about the "schedule" and follow his lead on what to do and when to do it.

Like his mother, he is easily amused

Luke is on my lap right now and is just enthralled by the ceiling fan. Glad to know my child doesn't need all those fancy-schmancy toys we bought him in order to have a good time.

Aaaand he just spit up on my leg. Motherhood is fun.

Mama Bear

I think I may be a wee bit overprotective of Luke.

Saturday Juan and I decided to make the looooong trek out to Babies R Us because we had some good coupons and "needed" to buy a few things for the baby. What can I say, we wanted to get out of the house and decided that spending oodles of money on baby toys was as good an excuse as any for a 45 minute drive.

In any case, we packed up the diaper bag, strapped the boy in his carseat, and piled in the car. Juan in the driver's seat, Luke in the back, and me...right next to Luke. "How long are you going to keep riding in the back with him?" Juan asked me. I confess, I thought about answering "Forever" but decided that was probably not what he wanted to hear.

The truth is, I don't especially enjoy riding in back with the bulky carseat, especially since you have to be a contortionist just to get the seatbelt buckled. There's also a lot less elbow room than I prefer, and Juan and I rarely talk much when I'm back there. And yet... I can't shake the feeling that I need to be next to him. Just in case he needs me. Truthfully, Luke would be just fine if I was in the front. After all, no one is sitting next to him when he and I go out on our little adventures during the week and he does just fine. When I have the option of sitting back there, though, I have to do it.

"I don't know, maybe another month" I said after a long pause to consider Juan's original question.

Anyway, the trip was made, baby toys were purchased, and I rode in the backseat with the baby on our way home.

Then yesterday I surprised even myself by reaching a new level of overprotectiveness.

Juan was working all day but it was very slow at the hospital so "working" became "watching TV in his office while twiddling his thumbs." I was going a little stir crazy at home with the baby, so around 4:00 we hopped in the car and went to go visit Daddy at work. We ate potato chips, I watched some of the red carpet show while Juan played with Luke, and fun was generally had by all. Then the time came to drive home. Juan volunteered to take Luke in his car since I wanted to stop by the grocery store to pick up a few things we needed. I agreed, and as I pulled out of the parking lot I realized that this was the first time Luke had been in a car without me. It felt weird and, well, wrong even though he was with Juan. Juan's a careful driver, and in fact he's probably a better driver than I am if you wanted to compare, but it still didn't feel good to be in a different car than my baby.

Still, I wasn't going to be the mom who couldn't be separated from her kid for even 30 minutes. I was, however, the mom who insisted on staying just ahead of the car her baby was riding in for 20+ miles. I couldn't help myself. Juan didn't know what I was doing (though he does now since he reads my blog) but it somehow felt safer that I keep my car ahead of his during that drive. My gut told me to protect my baby, and that was the only way I could think to do it.

So yes, I'm in full-on Mama Bear mode. My dad has joked many times that there's a part of my mom's brain that is always focused on me and my sister, and now that I'm a mother myself I can finally understand exactly what that feels like. I just hope I can manage to loosen up a bit since I'll drive us all crazy if I don't.

More on how I shouldn't blog about my job

Enjoying my maternity leave would be a lot easier if I wasn't being inundated with evidence that my sub is royally screwing up. It's almost enough to make me throw up my hands and just go back early, which really makes me mad. This time should be about Luke, not worrying over what kind of mess I'm going back to in November.

Growing boy!

Luke is growing like a weed, which makes me happy since it means that he's getting enough to eat (a concern I think every breastfeeding mom has) but also sad because my little baby is already growing up way too quickly.

Exhibit A: Coming home from the hospital




Exhibit B: Coming home from a picnic last weekend



So big!!!

Thoughts on a complicated day

Six years ago I was a college student in Utah. My roommate woke me up after she turned on the news and, like everyone else, we spent the rest of the day watching television, crying, and trying to understand what had happened. I remember thinking that nothing good could ever happen on any future anniversary of that day that would even begin to erase the horror and pain I felt anytime I thought about the terrorist attacks.

Last year I had an exploratory laparoscopy to figure out why, after a year and a half, we couldn't get pregnant. That turned out to be the one thing we needed to finally conceive, and two months later I found out that I was pregnant with Luke. Looking back, September 11 2006 was one of the best days of my life. I have very few clear memories from that day thanks to the lovely, lovely drugs they gave me, but the one thing I do remember was my OB/GYN telling me as I was wheeled into the recovery room that he had removed "a ton" of scar tissue from around my ovaries and that I shouldn't have any more problems getting pregnant. If I could have cried tears of joy at that moment, I would have.

Today I stood in the nursery holding my baby and singing to him, and all of a sudden I was bawling. I remembered the horrific images and events from six years ago and the wonderful weight that was finally lifted from my life last year and then looked at the beautiful baby boy in my arms. It was all just too much for me.

I have no idea how I'm going to explain September 11 to Luke when he's old enough to realize that it's not just another day. We'll be having lots of talks about what is and isn't age appropriate before that happens, but I know that I won't be able to tell him until he's much older how he's changed how I view it. Yes, it's still an unbelievably sad date, but it's also the anniversary of something that has changed our lives for the better in so many ways. I'm happier than words can say to be able to associate something so positive with a date that will always be connected to tragedy.

Did you know...

Did you know that babies can poop and burp simultaneously?

I didn't, at least not until 5 minutes ago.

Happy one-month birthday, sweetheart! You teach me new things every day!

All by my-self

Well, J's paternity leave is over, my parents have come and gone, and now Luke and I are officially on our own. All day long. Every day until Thanksgiving.

*gulp*

I admit, yesterday (our first day alone together) was rough. He screamed, I cried, it was hard. Today was a bit better. He had his worst meltdown yet before 9:00 in the morning, but I managed to get him settled thanks to our swing-of-awesome-baby-soothing-powers which made me feel like I might just do an okay job at this mom thing. Of course, he napped for three hours after calming down and hasn't had a decent nap since (and we had another meltdown at Target tonight) but we're working on it.

The whole time I was pregnant, I never really pictured what this time would be like. I imagined what I'd feel when I met him for the first time (and, as imagined, it was incredible) and what it would be like to see him really smile at me, to start to crawl, to take his first steps, but never this brand-new newborn stage where eating, sleeping, pooping, and screaming are pretty much all he does. I can't say I'm loving every second of it, but it's amazing to watch him take in the world for the first time.

He's fascinated by our blinds, and will stare at them while he's eating or while we're walking around the house. He doesn't startle when the dog barks, which is amazing to me (though my reading tells me that it's probably because he heard Jasper barking while he was still in utero) and he's already starting to track our faces when we move above him. He adores the mirror Juan rigged above his Pack N Play, and one of my favorite games is to point out the baby in the mirror next to our staircase when we come down after a diaper change. He hates having a wet or dirty diaper, so the changing pad has become one of his favorite places in the house. We hung the quilt my mom made him above the changing table, and he'll grab for it every single time we set him down to be changed. I've never seen a baby so enthralled by a wall hanging before, and we need to get some better pictures of him with it because it's beyond cute to watch him reaching for the bright contrasting colors.

Every morning we read two books together before going downstairs to really start the day. I read Blueberries for Sal to him yesterday, and it brought back all kinds of memories of reading it with my own parents when I was little. There are so many books I want to share with him!

I could go on and on, and I probably should write all of these little things down in his baby book so I don't forget them. He's already getting bigger--he officially grew out of one of his smallest onesies this week, and his fingers suddenly seem huge. Where did my tiny baby go?

Yeah, I think we're going to do okay by ourselves for the next few months.

Ahead of the game

So...it's not normal for a 3-week old to be holding up his head on his own, right? Because my baby is HOLDING UP HIS HEAD ON HIS OWN!

We're all a bit freaked out by this over here even though he's been showing signs of having abnormally good muscle development in his neck since he day 1. Still, when I walked into the family room this afternoon and saw him holding his head up for over 30 seconds (completely unassisted) while my dad was playing with him, I couldn't quite believe it.

In other news, Luke had his first bath last night, and while I'm not going to post the pictures (he will be a teenager one day after all) I'll tell you that he did great and didn't cry or scream at all. We could immerse him in water every day of the week as far as he's concerned, that's how much he enjoyed himself. Hopefully he'll continue to enjoy bathtime when it's just him and me rather than him, me, my parents, and J. It's far easier to deal with a squirmy, slippery, screaming baby when you have backup than it is when you're by yourself.

One thing I won't mind at all if he does early? Sleep through the night. He was up every other hour last night and I've felt like death warmed over all day as a result. Poor J had to go to work after that night, though, so he wins for feels-most-like-crap today.

Secret Weapon

Is it just me or have an unusual number of Bush administration officials started resigning since my son was born? Coincidence? I think not.

In related news, J bought Luke the following onesie that will get him fired if Luke wears it to the hospital.



And finally, courtesy of Slashdot's comments section, a joke:

Q: How many Alberto Gonzalezes does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
A: One, but he does it multiple times because he can't recall doing it before.

Suggestion for pregnant readers

When you have your baby and realize that the only pants you can fit into are still maternity sized (and really, at some point you just start craving pants with a button and zipper) do yourself a favor and get some new pants. In your new size. With a button and a zipper.

My parents are in town this week, and my mom and I took advantage of one of Luke's naps to make a very quick trip to Ross for some non-maternity clothes for me. I'm still pretty far from my pre-pregnancy weight and body shape, but I was DYING for pants that weren't either sweats or demi panel so we went out in search of some cheap regular pairs that I could wear until I fit into my old clothes again. Thirty five dollars and three pairs of pants later I walked out of the store a much happier woman.

So yes, even though I won't be able to wear these clothes for very long, I give two thumbs up to post-partum clothing purchases. Psychologically, it feels very good to know I have some cute clothing options back in my closet.

Never blog about work

Okay, so this is basically rule #1 of blogging. You don't blog about your job unless you're willing to lose said job over the things you write. I've always tried to follow this rule, especially since I started teaching, therefore I won't go into details about what's happening with my job at the moment except to say that hearing "Oh, don't worry about it" after receiving two very disturbing pieces of information this week isn't exactly making me a happy camper today. I love my job. I love teaching, love my students, and really do love my school. That said, I don't love how they're handling my absence at the moment, and I'm more than a little anxious about how things are going to pan out while I'm gone.

Now here's a cute baby picture to make me feel better about not being able to blog about my job.

Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep little baby...

Oh dear, I think we have a boy who's mixing up his nights and his days.

(gulp)

Luke took two long naps today and now here it is, 9:00 at night, and he is wide awake. Not hungry, not fussy, just AWAKE. Awake and needing to be held. Daddy's on snuggle duty at the moment, and as adorable as Luke is when he's awake and happy, I'd really love to see his beautiful blue eyes close so we could go to bed!

Still, who wouldn't stay up all night for this face?



(memo to my son--this is what you should look like at bedtime, okay?)