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the woes and wonders of pregnancy

Today is officially the start of week 6! That means baby has a brain and a spine and is developing his or her heart (but it won't be four chambers until later on, it'll just be two). Baby is growing from the size of a sesame seed to the size of a blueberry.

I'm consistently nauseated but haven't vomited yet.
The smell of maple especially turns my stomach and Friday I suddenly couldn't eat the lunch I've eaten every day for over seven months -- a soy "chicken" patty on a wheat bun. I couldn't choke it down. So that night at the football game, I wolfed down two hot dogs and a huge pickle. (A fellow teacher walked by when I was eating my pickle and said, "oh, how typical -- where's your ice cream?").

So I'm craving pickles, and grilled onions in tortillas, chocolate milk, and fruit smoothies. And hot dogs taste better than anything. Not healthy for baby though, so I'm trying to include veggies and non-processed meats. It's apparently not so common to have such strong nausea so early (it began at 5 weeks) I'm taking this as a sign that hopefully baby is very healthy or maybe I have twins. I hope I have twins.

I've had a couple of other symptoms rear their ugly heads as well. Twice I've cried my eyes out over something completely silly (like Andy saying hi to the dogs when he came home one day before he said hi to me). And I've had flashes of blinding jealousy or fury, and very high highs which come whenever I sing Lori Chaffer's song that she wrote for her son in my head... which goes, "welcome outside of your mother's womb, I know that it's frightening, but now there's more room. Just think of all of the great things you'll do, just by you being you."

your dreams have come true, now what?

I'm finally pregnant.

And it's a little hard to believe. I mean, I know I am because I'm nauseated most of the day, certain body parts are hurting, and I had a positive test a few weeks back. But it's hard to wrap my mind around it. For the last five years I've been whining about wanting to be pregnant and now I am. It kind of shut me up for awhile. I was giddy for the first few days, but now I only get giddy if I'm talking to my family about it. A person can't stay giddy I don't think, and I am tired, but still. Or maybe it's Andy. He has a way of mellowing out any giddiness and he still seems more worried about the future than excited. But he does assure me that he is excited, way deep down. My mind is wheeling with "what if" games and I can't seem to silence it. Boy or Girl? Are we moving or not? Who will the baby look like? When will I be able to get an ultrasound so I can see my baby? If we move, are we moving in town or out of the state again? What are the dogs going to be like around the baby? Will I have enough time for them? Will I continue to teach? Will I get fatter? When will I have a big tummy? Will my child love me when they are older? Will they be honest and honorable like their dad? Will they be quick and caring like me? Will they not like onions like their dad? Will they like to play board games with me? How close will they be to their cousins and grandparents if we live far away? How can we manage the holidays without those holidays becoming un-enjoyable? And such. I'll stop now.

the problem I have with politics

The problem I have with politics isn't politics in itself per se. I have a problem with people (yes I'm saying it again) who think they have a hold on the TRUTH. I think, in particular with my parents' generation, but I've seen this in my fifteen-year-old students as well, is with over-confidence. They don't second guess themselves or their beliefs or their reasoning. While I know I don't do this all the time, I try to. I'm still not sure who I'm voting for, not because I'm terribly uninformed (as someone in my family said I was), although I know I should be more informed and am working on that. I'm still not sure who I'm voting for because I'm trying to second guess my decision and make the best decision I can, not just for me, but for the majority of Americans and for the world. And I don't know which candidate can do that.

I'm not gun-hoe about Obama, but on the other hand I'm disturbed by the Palin mania that has infected 80% of the people I know (seriously I saw a woman at a football game wearing a shirt that had Palin's face super-imposed on to Rosie the Riveter) and I'm disturbed by her and McCain's take on the environment. I am, of course, bothered by Obama's lack of experience and think he's ignorant of nuclear technology (something which a presidential candidate should not be). So, who knows. And really I'm wondering how much it truly matters, which makes me not want to vote while at the same time my "responsible American" voice is telling me that of course I must vote.

Anyway, it seems to me that misplaced confidence and ignorance about science and a tendency to look over the root of problems (like with oil) will make our country die hard and fast; like Rome. And we'll take the global poor with us when we go. And I don't really see a way out. I think there are movements of skepticism and the emerging church who will work wonders in teaching the public to second guess themselves, as it has for me, but I feel it is too little too late -- I hope it isn't. I hope to see an educated, skeptical, caring populace rise up who will cooperate with others for the benefit of the world and future generations.

So, in a few words, I'm sick of the circus. And I have to watch, because still don't know who to vote for.

irresponsible and idiotic management

NoiseTrade Widget

sick days

I'm at home sick today. Even though I've slept ten hours already I think I'm going to take another nap. I'm actually on the mend, I just couldn't handle my students when I didn't have energy or a voice. It seems like I get a bad respiratory infection every nine weeks. I don't get sick when I'm not around kids. GermX did not help this year, but enough of my whining.

My students are publishing their first newspaper installment of the year and I'm a little worried for them. They are seniors and therefore not up for teaching (trying to show them how to write better) so I don't know how to delicately say, "this sucks and you can do better." They did an interview of me, to introduce the new teacher to the school, and I gave elaborate and well written answers to their questions. I really worked hard at it. But they cut it down so that it was the minimum requirement of 250 words and it was trite and it didn't flow well and it was just, well, crap. I hate to redo the article for the student, but I also hate that an interview with me is going to be portrayed in a bad piece of writing.

Other than that I'm having no real problems with my kids. The only two issues are: one, that all the students describe things as being "gay," which is offensive and therefore not allowed in my classroom, and two, that some of my male students are whining about detentions... that they are unfair (puh-leaz) and that they are going to tell their dads and I hope their dads tell them the same thing I did, which was, "suck it up and act like a man; pay the consequences of your actions."
Besides those two very small things, I adore my kids. They are hilarious and I can't blame them for being apathetic about grammar and about the classics. I was too once. They are all so unique, even in their trying-to-be-cool emo or hick (yes, those are the only two options in Wellston) sameness.

I've got more news, but no more energy to type it. Till next time, have a great week and may the Lord keep your from germs and bless you with a love for others.

my new classroom

It's messy, and I thought about picking it up before I took pics, but then, that wouldn't be my true classroom. Since these photos were taken, I've added a Howl's Moving Castle and Lord of the Rings poster and a lot of student artwork will be going up soon.

and later today...getting mushy

"ponder anew what the Almighty can do"

yeah, that's what I'm doing. That's a line from one of my favorite hymns. My outlook is better when thinking about this. He can do whatever the heck he wants. And he knows my heart, he knows what I want and need. And, although I haven't always gotten what I wanted, I still believe I will have those things: children, peace, joy.
And look at what he's give me in the last five years, esp. the last three: love, intimacy, hope, friendship, and more confidence in him.
I love living with a happy god, you know. It changes everything.

school has begun, making blog posts few

The web-isodes of "Heroes" bite. I can't believe how cheesy they are; I do not like feeling like I'm watching the SciFi channel at three in the morning.

So I'm not watching them. I have too much to do anyway. I can't believe how much planning teaching takes and how I still seem to wing it, even though I've made plans. I'm completely pooped.

realted unrealted things, that's how my brain works

I'm listening to Tori Amos's songs off of Tran's facebook page. I'm surprised, but I shouldn't be, that I know all the words and tunes still. I relish these weird moments where I feel like two people. The person I was and the one I'm becoming. We're related, but not.

I wanted to use this post to display some pics I took off Andy's budding bug collection. These are mostly sphinx moths and an order of bugs called the True Beetles (which is funny to me, it makes me think of the book on display at our church called the Total Truth -- what a crock!) and I think those are June Bugs, notice they aren't what we normally call June beetles, because those are actually May beetles (the brown ones who make thudding noises in the summer because they are running into your glass window -- did I ever tell you my dad used to squish those in his bare feet when he was about my age and I was just a widdle baby). Those pieces of paper and pins are to hold the insect in place as it dries. They are amazing, aren't they?


Guess what?!?! I get to take a CREDIT CARD that doesn't belong to me and go to hobby lobby. I have to get art supplies for the school since they've never offered art before I came along and begged my way to my dreams. I'm going to start with graphite, oil pastel, and charcoal drawings. And then I'm going to buy some watercolor pencils (they are $1.50 a piece!). This isn't all I'd like to use, but it's a nice start and I think I can write a few grants to get the cooler stuff. Speaking of cool stuff, I'm going to this totally awesome convention with the elementary art teacher (a sweet and soft spoken and fashionable grandma) and you won't believe it -- I get to take art classes for four days that are taught by professional artists!

holy frijoles

Tonight: the first night of the school year.
UGH! AH! ARG!
I'm so pumped and I'm freakin' out.
I'm reading a book on how to get students to keep a writer's notebook. It isn't written for my age-group, but the principles are the same. The first page accurately described my first year of trying this -- frustrated and performing most of the work, wanting the entries to be student-driven, but coming up with topics for the kiddos who don't have brains.
So, what I have to do is figure out how to teach 10th graders how to think about their own topics. Should I just teach them how to write as professionals do? Or should I start them off with prompts (these are usually stupid). I remember mine from 11th grade -- it was a coach teaching the class and I read and wrote more than he did, but he was a good hearted man -- they were things like, would you tear a butterfly's wings off for a thousand dollars, or would you eat a bowl of live crickets for a thousand dollars and why? He was obsessed about doing things for a thousand dollars. I answered as I knew he wanted me to just to play with him. As you can see it wasn't genuine or (if you are a writer you would probably not say deep but...) significant. And all but perhaps two out of 110 students I had last year wrote significant notebook entries. So what to do? What to do?
I'm not at all worried about the two classes I'm teaching that I have never taught before (Art and Yearbook), instead I'm worried about English again. That great subject at which I've excelled more than my intimate peers and yet, has always made me feel inferior and ignorant. And that's got me saying, "holy frijoles."
It's hard being a jack-of-all-trades and queen of none. I want so badly to be a, as Doug said, rock-star teacher. A Earl Schrock, Donna White, or Trey Philpotts. A Mr. Dewar, my ninth grade geometry teacher, he is an Earl Schrock. I wonder how long it took him to get there. He used to call me "enigma" when he was frustrated with me and "Coop" when he wasn't. My whole life has been shaped by that first nickname, which, again, is the reason I'm thinking "holy frijoles" when I realize I'll have students in my room again in three days. Why is that? Mr. Dewar called me enigma, he said, because I was the smartest student he had and I wasted it. Here I am with the incredible opportunity of Wellston. Classes I've wanted to teach. A new huge room with computers and new supplies. A welcoming faculty. A fresh start, a new year at a new school. And I'm afraid I'll waste it by being me.

summer vacation

This is the campsite we made the first night. We hiked about 32 miles and went up about 4,000 feet in elevation in four days. It was tough and we smelled really really bad, but it was fun. And that red blob is me. You don't get to see the closer pics of us, because we were so dirty -- you couldn't wash up because it was cold and the streams are snow-melt.

This is my view from where I was sitting.

This picture does not do the mountain justice. We were both very nervous at this point and I had mild vertigo. It was very high and barren. The trail wasn't wide enough to place both of your feet together and it was pure gravel, which doesn't look or feel sturdy anytime, let alone when you're on top of the second highest mountain in New Mexico.


Notice those storm clouds? Not good!

This is, I think, the highest point of our hike, about 12500 feet above sea level. We looked for the big horned sheep and ptarmigans, but we didn't see them. Although, we did see a marmot and a pika.

Here is a part of Palo Duro Canyon, a beautiful place just south of Amarillo. After our four day hike, we spent the night at a motel in Amarillo. It was wonderful. I washed myself and my hair twice and I used three Qtips. Then we got cokes and huge hot sandwiches and watched TV (we flipped between Ultimate Fighting and the Food Network) on the biggest bed I've ever seen (and it felt like it was the fluffiest as well).
Here is a group of baby barn swallows we saw at the interpretive center at the canyon. I hate interpretive centers, but I like these serious looking baby birds.

Here's the two inch blister I had the last day of hiking. I knew I had one earlier, but we didn't take our socks off so I tried to ignore it until we were back at the trail head. You're lucky I didn't include the horrendously long leg hair.

don't hate me because I'm funny

OK, I know this is blasphemous. But it is also very funny. I found it off a website I frequent: http://boredagainchristian.com/

http://whatwouldjb.blogspot.com/2007/12/jesus-christs-best-of-2007.html

I'm ready! --SpongeBob

Andy and I are getting ready for our backpacking trip this week. First we're stopping in Dallas to attend my cousin's baby shower (I'm still not done with the quilt! See pic below) and then we're off for a week of backpacking over mountains in New Mexico. It was my job, of course, to get the food. And since I don't want to take too much because you have to carry that weight on your back (Andy didn't think I had enough so we went back to the grocery store, I still think it too much but he is a big guy I guess) I rationed the food out by day and meal. So I have all the breakfasts in one bag, all the dinners in two, and everything in between cream of wheat and ramen noodles in its own bag by day. It was fun!

let the little children rock unto Me

This is Ethan rocking out to Andy's metallica tribute band. Ethan is pretty much the coolest kid ever.

my, my, blueberry pie

I'm sitting here eating the remains of my blueberry pie.
I woke up this morning with eight minutes to get ready and arrive for my walking date with Leslie and the Bunting kiddos. I am thankful to be around them. It helps me work on my conversational skills (the girls clammed up when Leslie sat down with Andrew, her youngest) and it helps me realize that my life isn't all about me (because it's sometimes difficult to hold a conversation with a woman who has four kids when those four are inexplicably hyper at seven in the morning). Man, I sound stupid and selfish. But Eck, such is life (said in my head in Jewish-accented (or would that be Yiddish?) English. So, blueberry pie makes me happy and this sentence reminds me of a funny quote I read the other day: "You can't buy happiness. But you can buy ice cream, and that's almost the same thing." I am still working on the quilts for Erika and Connie, my cousin. I didn't think they would be this hard or that it would take me this long. I hope they love them. Too often I see people, well, kids mostly, receive gifts and not appreciate them. But then I thought, it doesn't really matter if they appreciate them or even like them, because it is myself I'm serving by making these. It's me expressing my love and, as is normal in my interactions with others, that is often not seen, or at least not commented upon, or not understood. Andy and I often talk about the things we do for each other to show our love that we either didn't notice or don't care about. Last night I logged on to facebook and saw that Tran said that my "love language" is touch and I know hers is spending quality time without having to peek at her results. And Andy's is probably acts of service. So it is funny that I try to love Andy by giving him hugs and he tries to love me by mowing the lawn. I think the sugar in the pie has gone to my head. By the way, that was not an invitation for all of you to come give me a hug. I only like to be touched by family or very close friends. Spending time with me shows me love too, I promise. And I do bite. Here's to rabies awareness (I raised my fork).

bugging

Last night Andy convinced me to drive him around town at 11pm to look for bugs for his collection. After a lot of frustration and bug bites we found a prime location on the over-lighted tennis courts (seriously, why waste the energy to keep these courts lit during the night? the waste makes me mad). I, of course, found the most and the coolest. For some reason, which I enjoy, I always do better than Andy at things he likes to do. Like looking for birds or bugs or catching fish... which is great for me because he still consistently kicks my butt at chess and boggle (I quit playing boggle because I'm so ashamed, an English major should make a killing with boggle). I found a mole cricket and I really did scream a little when I saw it.
And I found several amazing sphinx moths of different species.
And, ladies listen up, Andy was very happy with me and is very loving today because I gave him the side-by-side time he craves (that means men love doing the things they love with the ones they love) and so I'm pretty much giggling through the day. I'm even going to offer to go looking for bugs tonight too-- even though mosquitoes bit my toosh through my shorts. Ouch!

5 years

Yesterday was our 5 year anniversary.
We went to the natural history museum at OU, which was great because it was short and sweet (only took about 2 hours), it costs only 5 bucks, and they have a fantastic dinosaur exhibit. I was in awe with the triceratops, whose skull holds the Guinness Book of World Records title of being the largest skull found on earth (as opposed to those found on Mars). I couldn't believe how large and ornamental it was. I'm sure it was the toast of the town in its hay-day. Andy liked the super-gator exhibit the best. It was a little scary. The skull of this gator was the same size as Andy, over 6 feet long, with the body being 40 feet long. It was massive.
After that we went to Ted's, my favorite Oklahoman restaurant (see: www.tedscafe.com) and I ate beef tamales and refried beans with fresh hand-made tortillas. Yum! I just finished the leftovers while Andy is out mowing the lawn... I hope he doesn't notice.
It was a good anniversary, and I'm still very glad I'm married to him.

I feel happy oh so happy!

but I don't really know why.
Sometimes when I get hyper and giggly, Andy will look at me and ask, "Why are you happy? What's there to be happy about?" It's very funny so in response I usually do a crazy dance. We love crazy dances. When we were first married we used to have dance-offs, just to act stupid, but I've talked about this before so...

I was just thinking how I title each post before I write it, which is the opposite of what I writer should do (or at least that's what Dr. Philpotts says).

I feel like my heart is a treacherous and confused thing. Which, it is, but I feel it tonight. I wish I felt more joy at the right things and more sadness at the wrong things. I wish I weren't so Americanly ignorant and apathetic.

What else What else... I met Tricia today. Her last name is Klopfenstein. Say that fast, it's a wonderful last name. She looks like a Irish girl to me though, strawberry blonde and lots of freckles. She was talkative without being too gregarious, which made me wonder if she wanted to be my friend or not. She did smile a lot when we talked about our dogs though -- just as mommies with new babies flock to other mommies with new babies. Andy says everyone feels as awkward (isn't it cool that that word has two Ws?) as I, but that doesn't make me feel any more confident, and logically it shouldn't, should it?

Did I write that we weren't going to Alaska? I had let myself hope, even though I really knew it was impossible. It's way to late in the game to get plane tickets. So, we're thinking a cheap vacation so we can go to Alaska next year. So -- the closest cool area from Stillwater is the northeastern side of New Mexico. So I'm going backpacking for the first time in my life. Andy is worried that I can't handle being dirty for days, which is silly because it isn't anything different than camping except that you move your site down the trail each day. And we camp a lot. I am only nervous about being out there alone. The last time we hiked to a campsite no one was within miles (and I mean miles) of us (because we were dumb and camped in winter, which I will NEVER do again) and I kept thinking of scary movies I'd seen where people are lost in the wilderness.

wow I just got tired and I still have dishes to do, so, g'night!