Things to say

Things a pregnant woman might like to hear even if she is fairly certain it's a lie:

"No, let me get that for you." (as said by a random parent)

"You look like you do 'being pregnant' well." (as said by the nine-fingered [female] security guard at school)

"Wow, you look like you've gained hardly any weight! I can't believe those pants still fit you so well." (as said by Em)

"From the back, you hardly look pregnant, you just look nice." (as said by Andrew)

Things a pregnant woman doesn't want to hear, even if she is fairly certain it's the truth:

"Are you having twins? Is that why you're so big?" (as said by a school counselor)

"Are you sure you have four weeks left? You look huge." (as said by the office secretary)

"Oh, look, you're waddling!" (as said by a science teacher, the other office secretary, every other math teacher in the department, and several students and students' parents)

Hee. Why yes, apparently I am measuring big, per the doctor today. But, um, have you met me? I am 6'1". And not a delicate flower 6'1". I was a ten pound baby, y'all. Little Man? The sperms what made him were from a tall person too. A betting person would put him at "above average size".

In other news:

• I don't just nest, I renovate. The kitchen is going well. We had an awesome meeting with the woman who's going to be installing our IKEA cabs and there's a few issues to address, but I think we can do that. And the moldy leak might be okay. And the engineering problem that caused the sinking second floor is taken care of. So, you know, no big deal and no stress...
  
• IKEA did call and say my kitchen order was available for pickup. So I showed up at the store and said, "Do I LOOK like I would order a kitchen for pickup?" They fixed it.
  
• My sister arrives the day after tomorrow. Her car seat arrived today. I can't wait.
  
• I got my hair cut. I have my first new hairstyle since the Mistake of a Boy Shag disaster from 2002.
  

Peace out, ya'll. Next time I update, it'll be my spring break. W00t!

Homeful and hopeful

Basement door-no-more
Originally uploaded by karijean

Okay, only a mild freak-out yesterday. Today sucked, but I got through it. I only had to stay til 4:30.

I was able to meet with my sister's new landlord today. And as a further sign that Portland is the smallest big city--or the biggest small town--you've ever seen, I've met him before. In fact, five years ago, I interviewed with him for a job. Of course, he didn't remember me at all (giving some indication of how spectacularly I failed in that interview) but still. My sister is now not officially homeless. In fact, she's quite homeful.

And then I got home and--the workmen were still here! And there were changes! Huge changes! It's crazy how fast this is moving. See in that picture? that there's completely new subflooring? And the basement door opening that's already framed out? because they've already moved the basement door. (to the other side, just FYI--opening in the hallway) Here we are, one week into construction and one major move--done!

Of course, it's just that much closer to having to have everything else lined up, but here we are. I can do this. I can do what needs to be done, and then be done and relax.

Crappity crap crap

I can't do it. I am letting everyone down. 150 students, other teachers, everyone. I can't do this. I spend every single day--EVERY SINGLE DAY--with too much to do and not enough time or energy to do it. Everything is clawing for my time and attention and I can't get it done. By the end of the day, I hurt--I HURT--and all I want is to go home and put on pajama pants and put my feet up to let my ankles drain and then not have to move until I go to bed and not think. And yet, there's still more that has to be done. I could work til six at school every day (that'd be an eleven hour day) and MAYBE get caught up, except I really truly can't physically work until six. That's imagining that mentally I could do it.

You know that pregnant brain thing they say happens? it does. I can't keep track of things, and so I let deadlines slip or forget to call video services to tell them that they can't interview my science students (and so they show up anyway, and oops! we can't do the interview, sorry!), or to copy my tests for Tuesday (so I have to find time to copy them on Monday and I JUST DON'T HAVE THE TIME) or arrange for a sub for Tuesday. And that's just shit I need to take care of tomorrow. Oh, I mean, over and above teaching. Which--I have no idea what I'm going to teach tomorrow.

And that's just in my work life. The other plates I'm juggling--friends, family, oh, that whole kitchen thing? I forget to make those calls too. And I just feel like more shit. I don't have wiggle room left for deadlines, personal or private, and I feel like I'm missing them all.

Updates and countdowns

Five weeks. That's the number of weeks from tomorrow until I start my maternity leave.

Maternity leave.

Heh.

I still can't believe it. Did we really make it this far? Really?

I still pinch myself regularly and maybe giggle to myself a wee bit. There's this teeny tiny thing that'll be part of our life in, like, oh, a month. It's hard not to feel his kicks and rolls and nuzzles against my belly as some kind of ultra private communication (although I did hold Becca's hand against his movements--at her request, I might add--and her subsequent agonized writhing still makes me laugh).

I also don't feel like I've ever had a time in my life when I've laughed as much as I have in the past three months. At Andrew, with Andrew, at Mateo, at Will being the cutest ever with Mateo... just at anything.

I wish these next five weeks could just go super fast, just speed by.

Of course, I'm exhausted. Not from all the laughing. But from lugging this GIANT BELLY everywhere. "Don't take this the wrong way," a coworker said today. "But are you sure you have five weeks left? You look like you're going to pop tomorrow."

I FEEL like I'm going to pop tomorrow. My maternity pants don't fit anymore, and my maternity shirts don't go down far enough (and the bare underbelly look--totally awesome at high school... I wear a Bella Band every day underneath my shirts and over my pants, to bridge the gap, as it were). The babe spends most of the day writhing back and forth, pushing against my bellybutton (which, surprisingly, kind of hurts). My ankles regularly swell to sizes larger than my knees. I feel like I'm continually letting a deadline slip (oy, the grading I haven't done) and letting someone down by not doing something that I should be doing.

Oh, and! I found my first stretch mark. Which I'm kind of, "eh" about. It's not like I'm pissed about it (because, let's face it--as Andrew has pointed out more than once, it's not like I had a taut belly before), but I'm also not all "It's a SYMBOL of my LOVE for my CHILD" all Earth Mother blah blah blah. Actually, the day I found it, I noticed that in a certain light it'd disappear. So I spent about five minutes swinging my belly back and forth in front of the mirror all, "Hey look, hon! Now you see it! Now you don't! Now you see it! Now you don't!"

Because I'm all classy like that.

But I can't believe we're on the last countdown. It's gotten to the point where scheduling comes up at work, and I look at the date of the next meeting or the next due date and I think, I won't be here for that, because I'll be on maternity leave!

Thirty nine days until everything changes. I can't believe we made it here.

Apartment hunting

Apartment hunting is totally way more funner when (a) landlords call you back right away, I mean, like, RIGHT AWAY, (b) you have more than one choice of apartment/house in your stated budget (c) the budget you're working with isn't your money but someone else's and (d) that someone else is totally used to renting in a crazy-expensive urban setting where they could get half the apartment for twice the price, so much so they don't even realize that they are actually looking at (virtually, at any rate) some pretty swank pads, even if they are "way out".

Saw two apartments today, have appointments for three more tomorrow. The two today--they'd do, but I totally think we could do better.

Yay apartment hunting!

No mo pouting!

Grin
Originally uploaded by karijean

Don't pout CNIU (cutest nephew in the universe!)! Your mama got a job! and you'll be back out here soon!

WOOO HOOO!

That's what I'd do, too

So. Um. What should one do if one were six weeks from welcoming a new, helpless and probably kind of needy new family member?

Start a kitchen remodel, of course!




Um. Can't go back now!

That's kinda how I feel, too.

Pout
Originally uploaded by karijean

They were here for a three days. And I loved it. I took about a thousand pictures of The Cutest Nephew In the Universe, culled it down to 272 for saving on my computer, and culled further, oh the culling! to flickr. And Lee and I stayed up way too late (like, till TEN!) watching trashy reality TV and didn't even GET to the Top Chef! And it was like we'd never lived nine time zones away from each other.

She, of course, was mildly freaked out by how nice Portlanders are, taking me back to those first months in Portland when the bagger at the grocery store really did seem to care about whether my afternoon had been going okay and how that freaked me, a verteran of Minnesota Nice. And then Lee took Portland by storm, rustling up interviews for every spare hour or four. So my fingers are way crossed for her.

And then, after a whirlwind where we didn't really do anything but then were never bored either, in the dark of Daylight Savings Time Morning, they were gone. And that kind of sucks.

You can practically hear the sympathy.

Um, Ms. Whole Nother Day, I don't think I want to take this test.

Well, uh... who ever wants to take a test, doll?

But Ms. Day, I'm not ready!

I'm really sorry to hear that. But I've been talking about the test all week.

But Ms. Day, I'm not caught up on the homework--I haven't done any of it.

Pause. Deep breaths..

Well, now, that I can't help you with. That was a choice you made.

I was absent!

Two weeks ago. For a day. You've had plenty of time to get caught up, come in for help, and get ready. Do what you can, I guess.

Yes, this actually really, word-for-word happened. She answered one question out of 27.

Conferences

ARG. I hate this time of year, and it comes twice a year. I always always dread it. I spend days obsessing about the terrible things parents are about to accuse me of. (of which they're about to accuse me?)

And it's not the parents (mostly) that turns out to be the horrible part. It's the long ass long ass long ass day, the talk talk talk for three hours straight, the having to shift gears every six minutes and know on a dime how little Tina or little Charlie are doing as soon as the parents sit down.

Worse is the parents who sit down and assume you remember which child they go with because they met you back in October. Because, yeah, I can totally do that. OR NOT.

This time, of course, I did get one set of parents who said it was my fault their daughter wasn't doing homework--because I was so straightforward with her. Yes, you read that correctly, because I was straightforward with the daughter ("I won't let you go to the library if you haven't done the homework") it was now MY FAULT that they're little angel wasn't doing her work. "I'm not saying you're wrong," the dad kept repeating, "but that's why she won't work. Because you were so direct. She won't do the work now."

At that point I decided to just keep nodding and smiling, because clearly, there was no more to communicate in that conference.

And I only had two more hours to go after that.

I called Emily as I was driving home. "Go home," she said. "Make someone bring you food." So I got a pizza delivered. My ankles are elevated (and LORDY are they swollen) and I'm in my pajamas.

Two more days til the weekend. 7 more weeks of pregnancy.

Anal glaucoma

A coworker calls it "anal glaucoma." As in, "I just don't see my ass at work tomorrow."

I called in sick. And I'm not. Sick, I mean. I'm going to sleep in tomorrow. I'm so bad!

Weekend

A little nod to my midwestern friends...
Originally uploaded by karijean

I'm getting more and more nervous about how long the rain will last, once it resumes because this weekend was gor-or-or-orgeous.

Whatta week

DSC_0033
Originally uploaded by karijean

In one week, my friends have gotten the all-clear on cancer, and two days later welcomed a new family member who is, despite the scariness at the time, healthy, strong, and sweet.

That's what you call a miracle week. Henry John is home from NICU now, and clearly okay with that.

Road signs.

I got hit on the other day. In the car. He asked for my phone number.

Like, at a stoplight?

No, on the freeway. Well, he didn't ask for my phone number so much as hold his hand up to his ear like he was pretending to talk on the phone, and waggle his eyebrows. I think of that as asking for my phone number.

...Or he was being held at gunpoint and he was asking you to call the cops.

I prefer to think I got hit on.

Sure. Rather than, "I just killed a man."