Pregnant, part 1

Now that my first trimester is almost over (oh please, oh please, be over soon), I feel the need to write a venting post about the woes of the first 13 weeks to be published when everyone knows about little Crusher.

*Crusher is the name for our firstborn.  At first it was a joke, but after referring fondly to my forming fetus as Crusher for the last 9 weeks, it's grown on me.  I think I like it.  It doesn't even sound like a joke anymore.

A couple weeks ago, I was reading the symptoms of the first trimester out loud to my roommate, Stephanie.  As I put that sentence into words, I realize I owe her an apology.  That's boring and lame.  I should talk about more interesting things.  Sorry, Steph!  As I was suffering from all but two on the list, here is a list of those symptoms and how I (mostly) coped (but not without some whining).

Fatigue:  I slept.  And slept and slept and slept.  Last night, I went to bed at around 10 and woke up this morning at 9:24.  I frequently take naps for three hours at a time, wake up, eat dinner, and go back to bed for the night.  When I was working, I came home from work, ate a snack, and napped as long as I could.  If I didn't take naps, I fell asleep anyway.  In an upright sitting position at small group during prayers, for example (sorry, small group!).  I never liked naps.  I still don't like them, really.  They make me feel groggy and grumpy.  But they happen whether I like them or not, so I might as well be in bed instead of getting a terrible neck cramp for which I cannot take ibprofun on the couch, at the table, in a chair, or on the floor.  I didn't know a person could be this tired.  Making a placenta will do this, apparently.

Nausea:  Morning sickness, yes. But the nausea is the Absolute Worst in the evening and right before bed.  This, unfortunately, is generally the time to hang out with people and talk to them.  Magic pills from the doctor help, but I feel funny about taking pills (yes, I lean toward Unreasonably Safe Behaviors).  I take it when I have to interact with people during a peak queasy period.  Otherwise, I try to be a good listener and questions that will have long answers.  I can listen, I just don't want to talk.  How IS your little brother?  He just got out of jail, right?  What's your dissertation about again?  Tell me about your boss.  How did the monthlong visit with your in-laws go?

Excess saliva:  I'm not actually sure what to do about this.  Don't wear white while giving in to a cheetos craving.  That's really the only thing I learned.

Gas:  David and I developed a system for this years ago.  If I fart in public, he apologizes.  If he does, I say, "Excuse me!"  Most of the time I get the short end of the stick, but I anticipate an evening of the score shortly.

Food aversions and cravings:  I used to love food.  Everything about it!  I loved thinking about menus, grocery shopping, cooking, and eating.  I hope that comes back.  It's a big joy I took for granted.  I don't really like food anymore.  Except saltines and yogurt.  I like those still.  Vegetables have developed a strong bitter flavor and all taste the same.  I eat two bites of chicken and feel suddenly full (or nauseated).  I can't even be in the same room as eggs or garlic.  Now, a girl can't live a happy life on saltines and bland pasta.  So here's hoping I can eat again soon and like it.

Headaches:  Use headaches as an excuse to go to bed early (see Fatigue), watch your favorite TV show on Netflix, or eat ice cream.  Ice cream is a little known home remedy for headaches and many other symptoms on this list.

Clothes feeling snugger:  Summertime is the best time for this.  I pretty much just wear yoga pants or dresses.  Every day.

Mood swings - I am going to cry at some point every day.  Recognize this fact.  Stop wearing mascara. Cry happily whenever I want to.  That puppy is so cute - sob!  There's a baby shoe on the sidewalk, poor baby! - sniffle.  I can't have gorgonzola on my salad - tear sliding quietly down my cheek.  I just want to like food again - wail!

Worry:  Am I even pregnant?  Is Crusher ok?  I've been waiting to hear a heartbeat for about 10 weeks now, which feels like an eternity.  I only have to wait two more days.  In the meantime, here is my first baby bump picture:

11 weeks, 5 days

Welcoming Someone New!

We're welcoming Baby Sloan sometime late January!

All photos taken by the lovely and talented Stephanie Hendricks.

Class pet

After a dramatic and rather discouraging day, I was feeling a little down. Until a kid in the back raises his hand and asks, "Why are there worms on my desk?"

A little background

Four years ago, I shared my classroom with another teacher during my prep. The other teacher had a teacher's desk and chair brought in and put in the back corner, opposite my desk, so he could have a place to work and store his papers and supplies. This year, one of my most disruptive students asked if he could sit there. Of course I said yes. The naughty kid confining himself to the back corner by himself? A dream come true. So he set himself up in the back, with a framed baby portrait of himself, a lamp, and some kitten posters.

And a dixie cup full of mealworms he stole from a science class.

They are ugly and squirmy and gigantic. I usually like bugs, and I love worms... but these... look like alien parasites. I shuddered and gagged a little and itched all over for no reason. And decided they could keep them. They're not hurting anyone (yet...), and they're not too distracting (yet). So the student who found them made them a scenic view and gave them a bigger cup. I'm hoping they turn into beetles soon. The beetles are way cuter than the aliens, although they're growing on me (oh, eew.  Not literally.  Now I'm itchy again).

We did have to have a discussion about pet responsibility.  He must change their sawdust soon, as it smells like bug poo already.  And he has to feed them.  I found a little box of Wheaties, and I've been sneaking them pieces of my mid-morning fruit.  Please enjoy the pictures of our new little friends, Kid Swagg and Sir Swaggs-a-lot. 

Are you smarter than a high schooler?

This week is vocabulary week in Spanish 1 and 2! We started new chapters after spring break (photos to follow... eventually), so I've been trying to load their little brains with some Spanish words. The hitch in this endeavor occurs when I define a Spanish word with an English word they don't know. The last five days, I have taught them five words in their native language that were brand spanking new! See if you can define the following:

1. Enamored
2. Incendiary
3. Refuge
4. Artisan
5. Tine

And for extra credit, use the following phrase in context: A pitter pat

The first winner may win a limerick!**

**If I'm in as silly a mood then as I am now and have the time to sit down for 20 minutes, neither of which are guaranteed.

Arch-Nemesis

Yesterday afternoon, I was sitting on the couch minding my own business, when suddenly there was a buzzing sound in the window behind me. I assumed it was one of those big, fat spring flies that gets in the house, concusses against the window in a futile escape attempt and dies. I didn't even look to see it. I just kept pinning. Pretty garden pictures, make your own limoncello, DIY wasp trap, mini soup-can cakes.

Today, I heard it again, and turned around to see. It was not a fly. It was a yellow jacket.

Yellow jackets are one of the few bugs that scare me. I hate them. I rolled up a magazine to smoosh it on the window, but it kept moving into the blinds. I didn't want to squish it in the blinds, because they are awful to clean. So I remembered the DIY wasp trap and made a makeshift one out of a wine bottle.

The dang yellow jacket has been sitting on the outside of the trap for the last three hours.

Which leads me to believe that it is, in fact, not a yellow jacket, but a tracker jacker sent to make me crazy and then kill me mercilessly. So I named him Jack. And we taunt one another while I wait for him to crawl into the darn wine bottle filled with delicious wasp-enticing juice and he waits for me to slowly go insane. He might be winning.

My Secret's Out

Last week a student's cell phone rang in class.

No big deal. Say you're sorry, ignore the caller, and let it go to voice mail. Right?

Or alternatively, answer because it's your Gram-Gram.

Then your Spanish teacher yells at you for a while until she feels you are sufficiently chastened. She uses words like professional, respect, and dumb-dumb head.

All of a sudden, another student stands up and points at her! He says, "Mrs. S! What did you do? You just got mad, but you didn't get mad! You are a robot."

That's right, my little friend. I am.

And you'd better be thankful I'm so self-differentiated, or else all y'all would be rocketing through the trapdoor in the floor into a lake of hungry piranhas after being smacked upside the head with your mobile telephone device.

Lies!

I try not to lie. At all. This last week has been truly tempting. Read the stories and decide for yourself if you'd do the same in my place.

Student: Mr. N said you're turning 42. You look really young!
Me: Um, thanks.

Me: Leche is the word for milk. You can't tell if it's masculine or feminine just by looking at it, but it's logical. Therefore it is...
Student: Feminine!
Me: Good! It's feminine, so use la for the.
Student B: Wait - why is that logical?
Me: because only females produce milk.
Student B: Male cows don't produce milk?

Now at this point, if I were a good person, I would have just said, "Actually, all cows are feminine. Male ones are called bulls. Female mammals are the ones who produce milk." But the lie (stolen from a devious coworker who regularly tells his students this) slipped on out:

Me: Yeah, the milk of male cows is poisonous. You can't drink it at all.
Student B: What?? I had no idea!

So ultimately, this is a story of how I lied to innocent children. And during Lent too. And liked it.