On being taken over by Progesterone Aliens

I mentioned in my last post that my appetite has been acting like a pubescent boy.  I eat.  Thirty minutes later, I am ravenous again.  I eat and eat and eat all day long.  Surprisingly, my weight gain is not out of control (yet).  Granted, I don't fit into 85% of my clothes already, but I'm pretty sure it's mostly baby belly.  This is fine.  It's a little problematic when I have to go out in public in something other than yoga pants, but most of the time I feel happy about my bump.

Until I start having a fit of pubescentesque emotional out-of-controlledness.  I know there are two made up words in that sentence and I don't care.  I've been suffering from three major kinds of breakdowns.

1.  The Sentimental Melt   I cried three times at church last Sunday.  There was a cute baby with a proud dad.  I saw the unborn baby of a pregnant friend move in her stomach.  And I forget the reason for the last cry.  I think someone came and gave me a hug.  There's no stopping it.  The tears flow without permission and occasionally without reason.

2.  The Bouts of Sensitive Crazy   I felt too weak to finish the workout with David, so I started crying, ate some cheese while sitting on the dark stairwell, and felt like the biggest failure in the world.  I fell asleep on the couch, so I burst into angry tears and stomped up the stairs because I didn't just go to bed when I wanted to.  I accidentally made more rice noodles than I needed for the Pad See Ew, so I suffered a pre-dinner emotional slump.  The list goes on.

3.  The Toddler Temper Tantrum   Last Thursday, poor David had a root canal and I was his chauffeur. While I was taking him home, traffic was probably normal, but it felt like everyone was conspiring to cut me off and slam on their brakes.  We stopped at Zips to get David (and Crusher) a milkshake.  I decided to order a cheeseburger because I had to rush off to a work meeting for which I was about to be late.  There were pickles on my burger.  Pickles are gross.  At the first red light, I opened up the burger to pick off the ickies.  But the light turned green, and I spilled burger sauce all over trying to put it down and drive.  So I yelled, "I just want to eat my cheeseburger!"  There was an expletive in there.  I'll let you fill in the blank for yourselves. And when we got home, I was still so angry I bumped the curb trying to park, burst into tears, and slammed the door.  Hard.  Poor drugged-up David was in the car with a swollen, painful face, and here I am acting like a 13-year old girl who just got her phone confiscated in the middle of her first text conversation with her crush.

Somebody give that man a medal!

Food!

We arrived home from vacation late Saturday night (more on that later), and I was delighted to see my new Cook's Illustrated.  This is the single best cooking resource I have ever used, and I read cookbooks for fun and relaxation.  It's delicious science, and I love it.  This current issue has a recipe for Pad See Ew, my favorite Thai dish.  When I saw it, I cried with happiness (see post regarding 1st trimester woes).

And then I had an epiphany:  I could read about food again without making a frantic run for the bathroom!

The last Cook's issue, I tried to read a little article explaining the most efficient way to shuck corn and failed.  The idea of dealing with or (shudder) eating corn made my stomach turn and I had to put away the magazine unread.  Corn, for heaven's sake.  The mildest of foods.  David pointed out that within 15 minutes of the shucking revulsion incident, I was reading to him in detail about the process of dissecting and preserving Einstein's brain, a topic which didn't bother my sensitive tummy at all.  I don't consider human brain to be food.  No problem.  Dissect away!

So I spent a blissful morning reading my recipes and planning to make Pad See Ew, Saag Paneer, and French apple cake - hopefully this week.  Yum.  Then I got hungry and had to eat second breakfast.  After second breakfast, I went to the grocery store where I made about 47 impulse purchases because I was hungry again.  At noon, I ate lunch.  At 12:56, I ate second lunch because I was famished.  At 3:00, I ate a quarter of a cantaloupe and iced coffee.  At 5:15, cheese and crackers.  There was a cookie in there somewhere.  Dinner's at 7.  It's 5:34, and I'm not sure I can wait that long.  My normal-sized stomach has been replaced with that of a pubescent male.  I am pretty sure I will always be hungry.  After not gaining any weight 1st trimester, I guess it's time to grow a belly.

Names: how to be cruel to your children forever

I've been looking at lists of baby names recently and decided this game is hard.  I want a name that is meaningful, difficult to mock, goes with my last name without sounding stupid, and is unique but not weird.  That's a lot to think about.  Mostly, we've come up with joke lists of names we'd never actually name our children (Crusher came from one of these lists).  Hercules, Vader, Jezebel, Hammer, Mousse, Influenza, etc.  You try!  See, it's a fun game!

Today, I started reading other people's comments about name lists.  Here are some of their suggestions from the literary list:

Piggy
Ariel (for a boy)
Cullen
Jekyl
Gandalf
Peeta
Stark
Bufffy
Swayzee
Xena
Cloud
Squall

And one I'm considering telling people just for kicks:  Sloane


I can't judge, really, because they might be joking.  They might be 13 years old.  They might want their children to be mocked to build character.  But seriously, people!  For your children's sake!

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.