Nine months pregnant breakfast:

Two pieces of toast with peanut butter
Strawberries dipped in sweetened condensed milk
Thai iced tea

And I must quote my mother now, who, every time I talk to her, asks what I'm eating, and I mumble something like "Tartine morning buns", or "The best burritos in the world". After a few of these conversations, she said ruefully "You're like a pig in shit right now, aren't you?"

Yes, yes I am.

Question of the day:

Which is worse- constant nausea and vomiting or sleep deprivation?

Moving On:

Today was my last day of teaching for the year.

I wish I had more feelings about it, but I don't. I can't quite believe it yet.

Also, I am in total selfish, preoccupied-with-me mode. And now I finally get to indulge the mood that has been fighting me for the last nine months.

In ways, I am glad I've been teaching during my pregnancy, because every other job I can imagine would seem so pointless and a waste of time. At least with teaching, you always know that what you are doing is important.

The kids were so sweet today- some brought me gifts, they gave me hugs (I am not a huggy teacher, or person really), they brought food, they made me a big poster. I know I will miss them more than I think.

And now? Now I get to focus on my family- my little, growing family- for awhile. I couldn't be doing this- taking all this time off work- if the lovely beausband hadn't worked his ass off for the last nine months. I do not lie when I say he has worked seven days a week for almost all of that time, doing manual labor on the weekends, and busting his ass. As difficult as this pregnancy has been at times, I have never really felt like it was fair to complain, as he has shouldered more than his share of the burden. I feel so incredibly lucky to be married to a man who I know will sacrifice whatever it takes to care for his family.

And on that sappy-ass note- good-bye teacher blog, hello mommy blog!

What I Think My Students Have Learned This Year:

1. Grammar
2. That pregnancy will make you puke
3. Main Ideas
4. Symbolism
5. How to write a persuasive essay
6. How to give a speech
7. That sometimes a baby is so active you can watch it move through your teacher's shirt
8. More than they ever wanted to know about Anne Frank
9. That pregnant ladies cry A LOT
10. That schools are still segregated
11. To question the media
12. That Ms. Phc doesn't like you to watch that much TV
13. That pregnant ladies have to pee A LOT, and will sometimes have to call many, many people to get a person to cover their class
14. That fast food is not nutritious
15. How to write a research report
16. That reading can be pleasurable
17. Irregular verbs
18. Themes
19. How to write a technical document
20. That babies will kick their mothers so hard that they will sometimes yelp in pain, but no, that is not labor, and you can all step away from the phone, where you want to call 9-1-1.

Trying to remember what it was like before I was nothing but a host:

Should students be allowed to touch your belly?:

I have three days left of teaching and I will be the first to tell you that my heart is just not in it. Actually, nothing of me is in it, but I am trying desperately to fake it, because that only seems right, it being my job and all. But I am really on the verge of just throwing in some movies for the next two days and wrapping up with our party on Thursday. There are ungraded papers, and stacks of things I should organize, and papers to go through, but I cannot energize to do ANY of it. I really don't care. In a way I've never not cared before. Even when the noise level starts to elevate, I can't respond. The students are asking me about future events and I say things like, "You're going to have to work that out with your substitute."

AWFUL, AWFUL, AWFUL!
This is why teachers should get maternity leave.

So one of my students, a girl whose mother just had a baby, asked me today if she could touch my belly. You should know that I really don't care about people touching my belly- most of the time I actually like it- but it took me aback for a minute. But I consented and then another girl asked and everyone got all 'oooohhhhy' about it. Like they all wanted to touch, which might be a bit much for me. It's very strange to have something so personal happening to you while constantly being watched and monitored by 100 people a day. Especially when the personal/ professional line becomes blurred, as it is wont to do when your students see you running out of the room to puke, or go to the bathroom, or when your belly is slithering around as you are trying to teach. None of it feels inappropriate, and I couldn't have asked for better students this year, but I really try to keep up a boundary with my students, and pregnancy sort of forces it down a bit more than I would have chosen.

Fin

I am sick of, in no particular order:

Swelling
My maternity clothes
Everything, even maternity clothes, being uncomfortable
Raging hormones
Inability to sleep
Peeing every 15 minutes
My back hurting
My legs hurting
Exhaustion
The baby playing poke all the time
Constipation
Feeling nauseous every time I eat
My double chin

About Last Night:

After working hard around the house ALL DAY yesterday, I insisted we go OUT for dinner- something we don't do often enough, and something I know we won't be doing much in the months to come.
So we headed out to our new little neighborhood Italian joint, and I was once again reminded that EVERYTHING IS BETTER IN THE CITY. The new neighborhood has plenty of parking, by they way, even in the "commercial" part. We were seated at the counter right away and were able to people-watch for the entire meal. We had a totally rockin' dinner and afterwards walked up to the local bookstore to browse. Yes, tiny little locally-owned bookstore open at 9:30 at night. Heaven? I think so.
The owner gave us a rundown of the local parent's scene, where to hang out, schools, etc. Other customers joined the conversation, because PEOPLE TALK TO YOU HERE! It's a goddamn miracle.

We wandered home around 10:30, full and happy, knowing we have made the right decision to be here. I feel like I've clicked my ruby slippers and am finally home.

Lightening:

Towards the end of your pregnancy, the baby apparently "drops", or settles further into your pelvis, and this is a sign that labor will start in a few days or weeks (the precision with pregnancy is something else). Apparently, you will notice that you can suddenly breathe a lot better, and have to pee even more (more? seriously? will I just never leave the toilet?) but I have not really had any problems breathing, so I didn't know what to expect.

Around 3:00 in the morning last night, I woke up coughing. And then it hit me- dear God, I could get a deep breath. I hadn't even noticed that I wasn't able to breathe, but now I am obsessed with taking deep breaths- BECAUSE I CAN! It's the little things at this point, people.

Child-free:

To clarify, the doctor just said I COULD have the baby on Friday- not that I WOULD have the baby on Friday. You should know that I am a neurotic person who reads meaning into everything, so when she said that a few times, I checked into paranoid mode. But really, I think we just hit it off so well that she wanted to deliver me and since she's working Friday, was trying to subliminally send the baby a secret doctor/ baby message. They can do that, you know!

But if you want my opinion? I am not having this baby for a few more weeks. I think this for the following (totally unscientific and unmeaningful) reasons: 1) People still comment on how small I am. And I guess I am pretty small for someone who is 8 1/2 months pregnant. So clearly that indicates the baby is not ready. Also, 2) I believe the baby will not come before I move into my Zenlike, ready-for-baby "space", which I am not in yet. I am not even close, because the house? Still needs to be "dealt with". And my job? Still going on for another week.

So, while I am effacing nicely and the baby is in position and all of that, I believe we are still some time away. Plus, I really need a good night's sleep before the baby comes, so I'm planning on doing that this weekend. After this weekend, I'm ready to give it a go, but I truly believe the baby knows I deserve one more night of good sleep in my life.

The topic of this post is my private parts:

I just came back from my 37-week check up with the doctor (yup, tomorrow I am officially full-term) and 1) I totally love her and 2) I am about 50% effaced and have began contracting. Which means "things are starting to move". Really? Things are starting to MOVE? REALLY?
HOLY FUCKING SHIT, THINGS ARE STARTING TO MOVE!

This made me 1) grin from ear to ear and 2) totally freak out because oh. my. god. have you SEEN our house? Not unpacked, people. Not even close. Like REALLY not ready for the baby. Like really not even ready for a casual visitor.

My new doctor was really impressed with how calm I was and commented that the baby seems really happy (as soon as we started listening to the heartbeat, it started moving all around, making both of us laugh at my squirmy stomach). She also kept mentioning that she's on call this Friday night, and maybe I would see her there. Maybe I would see her there? On Friday? As in day after tomorrow?

Oh my god, neurotic tendencies have kicked in and I must commence further unpacking and cleaning because FRIDAY IS REALLY SOON AND WHAT DID SHE MEAN BY THAT?!?!?!

It is 11:23 a.m.:

And all I can do is wait until 12:25 p.m., when I can take a nap on my classroom floor.

Eating my way home:

So we have been back in the city for three whole days now, and I'm already back in love. Not that I ever fell out of love, per se, but I sure appreciate things more after being stuck in suburban hell for almost two years.

When we lived in the suburbs, we lived in a little cottage that was on a property (and when I say "property", I mean a teeny plot of land on a busy street) shared by four other cottages. Not once during those two years did I say anything more than "hi" to any resident, and even that was few and far between. The day- literally the HOUR- we moved in here, a neighbor was walking her young son by the house and stopped to talk to me. We began chatting, about the neighborhood and impending motherhood, and, of course, mutual friends, because this city is so small it's ridiculous, and she actually said to me, "If you start to go crazy alone when the baby comes, just knock on my door and come visit."

Following this, my former professor and now friend emailed, offering to come over and keep my company while we were settling in. Friends! Dropping by! The luxury!

Top it off with three days in which I have eaten the best burritos ever, my favorite Thai food (oh, pumpkin curry, how I have missed you so), and have a half gallon of ice cream in the freezer.

Also, we have two bathrooms now. TWO! I have never had my own bathroom in my entire life. In fact, for most of my 20's, I lived in a house with four girls and a bathroom so small that when you sat on the toilet you could, literally, touch all four corners of the room with your feet. But now! I have my own bathroom, free from all things boy. Candles! Lotions! Potions! My own shower! Not only that, but the lovely beausband gets HIS own bathroom, and our hot water heater is so big and strong we can actually shower at the same time. People, if this isn't heaven, I don't know what is. Our last place had a 30-gallon water heater that spurted out about five minutes of a hot shower, if you were lucky. NOW! We can both take long and luxurious showers at the same time. It's mind-blowing, really.

Did I mention there is a dishwasher? Oh yes, my pretties. An amenity that I have also never experienced, but which I am already feeling smitten with. Not many people would think a 600 square foot, ground floor flat is like a little slice of heaven, but I've been out there. I know what it's like, and I'll take all of these quirks for my friendly neighbors and good food.

Country roads gone done and took me home.

The baby's got acne and I've got hormones:

So, we are moved. I guess. At least we are out of the old place, after a day that went from 7 a.m. Saturday morning until 1 a.m. Sunday morning. And then a lot more of the same on Sunday. I really have no reason to complain, though, because what does a 36-week pregnant woman do during a move but watch? Nothing, if you've got a lovely beausband, a few strong friends, and parents who help you clean. So why am I so totally trashed from the whole event that I was a bad teacher today who just showed a movie? I don't know, except that being 36 weeks pregnant is hard, and commuting is hard, and teaching is hard, and I just want a little slice of time to spend curled up with my husband and enjoying each other before this baby comes and I don't know when we'll get that time (hormones, enter here).

Yeah, and the baby has developed acne. How would I know, you may ask. Well, right on my stomach is a huge and painful zit (so painful, in fact, that I wish I could just get the epidural now). On my big, pregnant stomach! A pimple! Who gets zits on their STOMACH, for the love of god? We always knew that this child doesn't have a fighting chance for clear skin given its' parents, but please! Starting before it's already born is just cruel.

Signs of Internet Addiction:

The absolute last thing to be moved is the wireless box and router.

Week 36; There is a lot to say this week, but mostly it sounds like this:

"Shit, you mean xxxx won't fit IN THE DOOR? Get it on craigslist, pronto!"

"Do we need to go to IKEA again?"

"What day is it?"

"Did you switch the (insert bill here) to the new house?"

"Did you reserve the truck/ call the people/ change our address/ post the ad/ look at the new/ run by the store?"

"I think there is something really wrong with my stomach."

"All the food has been packed up and all my clothes are packed and how am I going to get something to eat?"

"So we'll get up at six on Saturday..."

"It's going to cost how much?"

"This baby will NOT let me rest."

"I would do xxx, but we are moving, I am 36 weeks pregnant, and something is really wrong with my stomach."

"I REALLY won't miss this house."

We're coming home, San Francisco!

If my mom didn't read this, I would title this post something about SJSU and 'fucked' and 'up the butt', but I'm polite enough to refrain:

SJSU can seriously kiss my ass. They are under the delusion that if you have a sub-par teaching program, the way to make up for it is to act like it is really important and make the students jump through useless hoops, all in the name of an "education". Let me give you two recent examples:

1. Today, after my group (oh, please, of course everything is groupwork. did you really think it would be any other way?) was finished with our entire assignment, and had been bullshitting for far too long, we got up to leave 10 minutes before class was officially over. Would you believe that we got sent back to our table and told that we were not allowed to leave before 6:30 and that we were to continue talking, REGARDLESS of the fact that we were done. Ah, effective use of time. I love it.

2. My professor is insisting that I get together with her on May 9th for a meeting in which I 'present' a project that I have worked on this semester. While I explained to her, politely, that I would be unavailable that day, and really any other day after April, because I HAVE A BABY DUE APRIL 13TH, she just kept telling me in her broken English about how I have to go to this meeting. With a three-week old! An hour from home! For a useless meeting that would seem ridiculous to me before being pregnant, but now is ridiculous times 1,000. I am happy to send her the presentation, but damn if I am going to drive to San Jose with a little baby who is coming God knows when for her fucking 'meeting'. While I told her again and again it wouldn't happen, she just kept insisting. Argh.

The Cuteness Factor Might Just Be Too Much To Take or When I Scared My Husband With Squeals:



Oh-My-God, Thank You Auntie Frizzle!

Big Huge Bella Tears:

The people that took Bella emailed again today to tell us how she is, and I am so happy for her new life that I cannot stop crying.

The family that took her is a couple with an 18-year old daughter. The man is an electrican and the woman is a stay-at-home mom. Apparently Bella goes to work sometimes with the man, and LOVES it. She would. She always wanted a job. He also said that he has started running with her twice a day (TWICE! A DAY! OH, THE JOY!). I am, of course, plagued with guilt that we could never give her the life she wanted, but the fact that she finally got it fills my heart with such immense joy that I don't even have anything ironic or witty to say. I feel so lucky that we found her a place where she could be happy and fulfilled.

I still miss her something awful.

Bloating:

Until today, I really thought people were kidding when they talked about 'fat ankles'. Now I know the truth.

Blogger.com:

Today I had my students create blogs for themselves. I am trying to implement it as my big 'blogging project' (a project that I keep starting and changing and changing and changing and still really has no direction. for a class, of course. due soon, of course. pshaw, why should i worry?), and so I made up a blog for myself and walked through the steps and wrote them on a transparency so that my visual learners had directions written, and then got ready to walk the students through the set-up so they could use blogs as a reflection tool for the next three weeks (how much longer I have of work), hopefully to some avail, so this project maybe gets cohesive somehow.

Anyway, this is all a really long way of saying we all got to the blogger home page and I told everyone to do the basic things like choose a user name, password, blog name, etc.

Here is what happened:
"MS!!!!! Somebody is already using 'Stephanie' as a user name!"

Multiply this by 33. Seriously. I ended up with a raised voice saying, "People, please. Thousands of people use this website. PLEASE use something original." The most basic things- choosing a password, finding a user name, choosing a blog name, TOOK AN HOUR. WE NEVER EVEN GOT TO POST AN ENTRY BECAUSE THEY COULD NOT FIGURE OUT WHAT USER NAME TO USE! SUCH BIG DECISIONS! Do you know what this is like? It's like hell, thirty-three times over. Dear God, make it go away. Do you know how many of my students DON'T have email addresses? How is this possible? Is it not 2006? Not even hotmail?

I'm looking forward to doing this again on Wednesday, if I don't stab out my eyes before then. I want to use technology in the classroom, I really, really do. I just wish I didn't feel like I needed to use a Ativan every time I want to use the laptops.

Thirty-five weeks means:



You move in five days! Which means you live in a slovenly pigsty now! With half your stuff already moved! And a coffee table that doesn't fit! And an electric dryer, when you need a gas one in the new place! Whoops! And a couch still to sell! And many, many IKEA things to put together at the new house! Which does nothing for your nesting instinct, which is kicked into high gear at 35 weeks! Where is my goddamn nest!
(Note: I use a lot of exclamation points to make it seem as if I'm chipper when I'm having a not-so-chipper moment. Happens barely never.)

This pregnancy is really beginning to weigh on me though (pun not intended, but duly noted). The creature seems to want to make a great escape through the skin on my belly, which feels majorly disconcerting and somewhat unsettling. Also, for fun, now whenever I eat I feel like I'm going to be sick. Every. Single. Time. Really, Really. Sick. So while I am still hungry and feel the desire to eat, eating makes me lie down for about half an hour afterwards, moaning in pain. Also, the peeing is getting to be really "fun". Because nothing calls out "fun" to me like feeling like you are literally about to pee your pants and you make a mad dash to the nearest (school, Trader Joe's, Target, gas station) bathroom, only to squeeze out about a drop of liquid. Doesn't that sound like "fun"? Now imagine doing it twenty times a day. "Fun!"

I guess I should be happy for now that I still have a week where I'm not commuting. Because after this week, we will be living an hour from work, and I will still have two more weeks of work left. So you can imagine what a joy that will be. Getting up earlier! Coming home later! Two hours every day in the car! When I have to pee! Maybe it will still be SNOWING here! For extra fun on the road!
(See, chipper, huh?)

What, does this not make sense? Blame it on pregnancy brain.

Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3:

My students took their placement tests for high school today and I was once again treated to a "What a difference a year makes" moment.

Last year, it was next to impossible to even get my students to quiet down for the test. The high school counselor who was administering it was appalled at the behavior and lack of respect shown by the students. They rushed through it as quickly as possible, seeming not to care about placement or how that effected what electives they were able to take, or really anything else except being dicks.

This year, I told my students (as I did last year), "This is YOUR test. How you do effects how many electives you get to take in high school next year and what level you are placed at. I know you all want to be on track for college, so really try your best. Take it slow and check your answers and you will all do fine."

Eighty questions and I don't joke when I say about half my students got through 1/3 of the test. They were the most diligent little test-takers- thorough and silent and totally focused. The counselor and I talked about how different the atmosphere of the school is this year, and why. I attribute a lot of it to new administration, an administration that doesn't coddle kids the same way the old administration did. In the eighth grade, students will rise or fall to whatever level you place the bar. Last year, it was placed low and teachers were constantly blamed for everything that occurred with the students. This year, the bar is higher and the students know they have to do their part. What a difference: Self-motivation! Personal responsibility! I'll take it!

I firmly believe we, as a society, need to stop coddling children and allowing them to get away with behaviors that are totally abhorrent. We have somehow stepped into a time when children are permitted leniencies that are simply poor manners and disrespectful behavior. When we raise the bar and our expectations, children will rise to that.

And yes, I do realize I will be eating my own words in about a year. Shut up already.

In the last three days, I have:

- sat on the floor of the bathroom in sjsu's science building, crying to the lovely beausband on my cell phone because I was so sick
- vomited profusely in the sink because I can no longer bend over to the toilet
- convinced myself that this illness is my karmic retribution for calling in on bereavement leave when my grandma died even though I am not attending a service, or grieving too much to work
- talked to the nurses at labor & delivery three times
- talked to the advice nurse once
- moaned a lot
- taken my temperature numerous times
- drank an innordinate amount of Gatorade out of fear of becoming dehydrated again
- eaten a little soup, a little oatmeal, and some toast
- resisted the urge to throw up as much as possible in fear of becoming dehyrdated again (big fear over here)
- sat through three rounds of Q's hiccups
- missed giving the writing assesment at school
- missed turning in progress reports
- been unable to care at all about work

Are you there God? It's me, Posthipchick.

God, I just wanted to tell you I think it's really uncool to give a 7 1/2 month pregnant woman with A LOT ON HER PLATE the stomach flu. Because it's not enough that I've been sick this whole pregnancy? What? You want to throw this in just for shits and giggles? More nausea? More vomiting? Plus a fever?

Go fuck with someone else.

Apology:

I am sorry if I don't post for awhile. I have been swallowed by the furgurner*.

*furgurner: /fur'grrrrr'nar/ n.: the place at IKEA saved exclusively for couples who are moving and having a new baby at the same time and have spent three nights in a row walking the aisles of two (!) different brightly-lit IKEA stores in dazed out delirium and confusion only to discover that they have found THE. PERFECT. ITEM. EXACTLY. WHAT. THEY. NEEDED. and then realize with horror an hour later on the "pick-up" floor that said item is, of course, out of stock. Furgurner is very, very close to hell.

Conundrum:

A co-worker of mine was very concerned the other day about me wearing clothes with bands around the waist. "Bad for baby," she says, "You must wear different clothes." I responded with my "I'm NOT buying any more maternity clothes with only six weeks to go" excuse, which is actually true. What's the point? I'll get by, right? Right.

The next day she came in with a gift for me- an early baby shower gift. Two "outfits", x-large, from JC Penny, that are band-free! And silk! And matching! And x-large! And u-g-l-y! I mean, they are REALLY bad. Some sort of patterned silk. Ack.

Obviously, the problem is I see this woman every day and don't think I can avoid wearing the outfits. If you were 50 and Indian, you might also think they were "perfect for work". The thought was there, and I am obviously a total bitch to be complaining, but I am sort of picky about my attire. And x-large silk outfits from JC Penny are just not my thing, you know? Can I avoid wearing them? If so, how? If not, please do not laugh at the big pregnant woman in the MC Hammer pants and matching shirt you see roaming the streets.


Picture does not illustrate exactly how bad outfits (there is one in red, too!) are. They are Really Bad.

Thursday Odds & Ends:

Tomorrow, one of my student's brothers, who just arrived back after two tours in Iraq, is coming to speak with my class. We are so excited about it. It will be interesting, because I am not at all sure what his stance is regarding the war, the U.S.'s role in Iraq, the President, etc. I have a minor- really, barely noticeable- desire to mold my student's minds into what I think. This situation makes me have to give it up. Stay tuned to see if she handles it ok...

---------------------------

I gave my students lists of words used in the questions of last years' CST test that I wanted them to know. They had to find the definitions and then use the words in sentences that related to work we have done in Language Arts this year. One student came to me with the word 'theme' and said, "Ms? Can I write the sentence- A theme is really hard to find?" Killed me, right there.

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As if pregnancy isn't sexy enough on it's own, I went out today and bought a maternity belt to help my aching, aching back. It really seems to help my back, but it then really hurts my stomach. No win.

------------------------------

Tomorrow we celebrate the reason I became a teacher- Pajama Day! Who else gets to wear their pajamas to work? No one, that's who! Just us lucky teachers who get to do it in the name of 'spirit'. All I can tell you is when YOU are 7 1/2 months pregnant and YOUR husband has to put on your socks every morning, you too will exude this same level of excitement.

An Ethical Question:

Do you think it's important or relevant for teachers to know that they have students in their class who were born addicted to drugs (like crack)? Or is this a confidential matter that is not important for teachers to know? I am curious what your thoughts are.