Pictures

We Are Family 2
Originally uploaded by karijean

Yes, I finally did it. My pictures from September and October are on Flickr. Click for some Teo Goodness, family madness, and Andrew cuteness.

Help--I'm drowning in CSA

What a... nice Thanksgiving gift!

We got home today and our hippie box was on our front porch, all full of organic goodness. And there was a note.

"Your bin was packed as a Large, at no extra charge. Happy Thanksgiving!"

What a great idea! Now, if only we didn't have trouble using all our crap from our usual small box, it's be perfect!

Seriously, we are having true troubles using everything up before its all limp and liquidy. And I'm not talking about the rootabegas and the leeks. I'm talking average stuff. Carrots. Organic carrots get really limp and... well, limp if you don't eat them fast enough. And the onions! Dear GOD does anyone want organic onions? We get two to three a week, use one or two, so they build and build and build so we had like ten (after giving away a bunch last week) and NOW we get FIVE MORE! FIVE more ONIONS! Is there a way to make, like, onion pasta with a side of onions? (my students, they would looooove it! and andrew's coworkers! Ooooo, and his darts team! we'd be suuuper popular!)

I get that kale and chard are staples, so I'm prepared for those, but I think I need to reassess my approach to this whole thing.

I will say: I've never eaten so healthy in my entire damn life.

Anyone want an organic onion? Or two?

And then, in BIZARRO land..

One kid in my 4th period class, upon learning that I was pregnant:

"Is there something they can give the baby so that it, you know, grows really fast?"

"...um? What do you mean?"

"You know, like, make it grow so fast that it would, like, explode out of you?"

"Well, just... I. Can't tell you. But I'm not likely to find out."

Out from under.

I don't know what it is right now. I thought it would be nine months of awesome, but instead it's turning into a slow and painful slog. I'm exhausted all the time and constantly worried that I'm just failing.

What? No, I meant the school year.

I honestly don't know what it is this year. I really thought I was sitting pretty. For my first year as a teacher, I had no new classes--everything was something I'd taught before. I had lesson plans drawn up and the year charted out. I knew what needed to be tweaked and what was pretty good looking.

Okay, yeah, the year got off to a bad start, and then I'm missing a few (ha!) days here and there for some (totally stupid, irrelevant, and time-sucking) training. But still. I've had that before too.

My students say I can blame The Pregnant for it, but I don't like to do that. I just honestly haven't felt caught up yet this year. And I feel like I've NEVER felt this un-caught up.

And today? Veteran's Day, a sacred holiday when we remember touching stories about all sorts of war-ish stuff (or anyway, that's how the school treats it)? It's not so much a holiday as a completely full day of grading--just, unpaid.

And I'm still not caught up.

I'm not worried, though. There's Thanksgiving, four completely unpaid days in a row, right around the corner.

Ah, the glamorous life of teaching.

And now I'm going to bed.

I'm hitting a milestone of sorts, the first of many (I hope). Week fifteen tomorrow. I can't believe it, still. I can't believe it's really true and I'm really pregnant. With each appointment, I hear a voice in the back of my head that says, "This is where you find out it's all been a horrible lie and something is very wrong." But each time where we still hear a baby's heartbeat I build a little more faith, one doppler at a time.

And damn, I don't know how any 2nd children are ever born without the first one dying of neglect. I get up, go to work, come home and sleep. I get up for dinner, and then go back to sleep. I'm behind on emails, phone calls, uploading pictures, cleaning, cooking, laundry, shopping, everything. We have a half-finished closet in the bedroom (put together just enough to put my shoes away, of course) and I have four generations of family photos spread across the basement and I have framed pictures waiting to be hung and I have a new niece to welcome and make gifts for. If Andrew weren't the superstarrest of superstars, I'd be naked, starving, and asleep.

And all I do--ALL I do--is sleep. I must calmly sleep now. And sleep for a few more days.

I haven't had any other symptoms, really. I have a wee tiny belly, and I've felt some stretching, but no real morning sickness or nausea. I told Emily I would gladly take a little nausea for more energy. She looked at me like I was eight kinds of crazy, but then she's had the Nausea From Hell with her pregnancy, so perhaps she's excused. She'd probably gladly give me her nausea. So I guess I can't believe I've been this lucky, that Extreme Tiredness Extraordinaire has been my only real symptom. Or would it be called a side effect? Anyway.

I'm told this ends, although estimates vary. Some say by week fifteen (excellent!) and others say, for sure by the time they go to college.

My dad says not even then.

Timeline

Eight years and three days ago we had our second first date. Technically, it was our first second date, but we don't really think of it that way, we think of it as our second first date. On our first first date, we really didn't like each other. He thought I was a flake. I thought all he did was talk about his car. Plus, he looked a little...dorky.

That date ended abruptly.

But then I changed jobs, and I emailed all my email contacts that I was changing offices, and surprise! I was going to be working next door to him! We should meet for drinks!

Having nothing else to do on a Monday night, and never one to turn down drinks, I agreed to meet him. As I rode down the escalator to our designated meeting point, I saw this tall, broad-shouldered kinda-hottie there, obviously waiting. Was that him? It didn't match at all with my memories of the car-obsessesed suburban guy. (Discussing it later: he'd gotten new glasses... and a better haircut. Apparently that made all the difference.)

So, eight years and three days ago we had our second first date. That led to our first second date. And so on.

Six years and a day ago, we got married, in the best party I've ever thrown in my life. I felt gorgeous, my friends were all gorgeous, my new husband was absolutely delicious.

Five years and a day ago, I dropped him, our dog, a suitcase, a small box of essentials and our Civic off in Portland after a marathon day-and-a-half drive out from Chicago. We left downtown Chicago at 5:30 on a Friday and for the next twenty-four hours, only stopped to refuel and pee (both us and the dog). We finally fell into a bed in Coeur d'Alene on Saturday night. We woke up, hopped in the car, and met our new apartment in Northeast Portland on our first anniversary. After six hours together, I got on a plane that night to go back to Chicago for two months: wrap up my job, sell the condo, and find a job in Portland.

A day ago, we went out to dinner. The waitress brought our food, and tentatively asked, "Are you guys celebrating anything?" He cocked his head and thought, "Well, she's pregnant, and my book just came out, but..." He smiled. "It's our sixth anniversary." "Congratulations!" she said. She comped our dessert.

Happy anniversary, hon.