Looks like Leah is preparing both me and Scott for her arrival in a few months. I haven't been sleeping well lately (already!), and well, Leah apparently thinks it's unfair for Scott to rest while I'm not, so she woke him up the other night. Seriously.
Saturday morning Scott informed me that he woke up during the night because his daughter kept kicking him. I thought he meant that I had kicked him, but no, he really did mean Leah. At one point while we were sleeping, his hand was across my belly, thus serving as a sort of target for Leah Jordan. Sure enough, she kept kicking away at his arm, eventually waking him from his usual restful slumber. Guess she wanted him to experience a bit of what I'm experiencing on a regular basis.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Pouting
If only pouting would make the undesirable disappear. Like Mondays.
Today felt like a great day to pout. Not because of anything that happened, but just because it's the Monday after a holiday and I really didn't feel like going to work.
Picture a grown (and pregnant) woman sitting in bed, arms crossed and a mean pouty lip plastered across her face. Then she drags herself to the bathroom to get ready for the day, all the while begrudging the fact that a new day has come. Somehow she makes it to work, but as the time draws near for students to enter her domain, she wants to ball up her fists, scrunch up her face, stamp her feet, and well, pout. But I don't wanna teach today. Anh.
Of course, pouting gets us (more specifically, me) nowhere. I still had to teach. I still had to face the day and accept my responsibilities. But, boy did it feel good to visualize a pout session.
Today felt like a great day to pout. Not because of anything that happened, but just because it's the Monday after a holiday and I really didn't feel like going to work.
Picture a grown (and pregnant) woman sitting in bed, arms crossed and a mean pouty lip plastered across her face. Then she drags herself to the bathroom to get ready for the day, all the while begrudging the fact that a new day has come. Somehow she makes it to work, but as the time draws near for students to enter her domain, she wants to ball up her fists, scrunch up her face, stamp her feet, and well, pout. But I don't wanna teach today. Anh.
Of course, pouting gets us (more specifically, me) nowhere. I still had to teach. I still had to face the day and accept my responsibilities. But, boy did it feel good to visualize a pout session.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Unexpected (pregnancy) Extras
Maybe I should qualify that title. See, it's not that the these extras were unexpected, it's just that, well, maybe I didn't think they'd really pertain to me. (Or maybe I was hoping they wouldn't.)
Extra #1: Hormones. Now, I honestly don't think that I've had "crazy pregnant woman" moments. I (foolishly) thought that I could get a straight answer about this from my husband; however, due to some of the books that I'm reading (specifically The Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy, thanks Dib), I realize that such an answer from Scott might be relative. (Even if I preface the question with a "be honest with me; I won't get upset with you," I don't think he will.) So, I'm still pretty confident that I'm not psychotic one minute and overly emotional the next. Granted, I do tear up at the occasional commercial or maybe the giggles hit me at odd times (like during Bible study last night), but what women doesn't have that happen? Really?
The only time I think I might be that crazy pregnant woman is during school ... on occasion. Take today, for instance. In truth, all went well, and the day was pretty much stress free. Then sixth period happened. Very nice kids... but too social (and at times immature) for their own good. They don't exactly understand how NOT to talk. (So frustrating!) Anyway, we were reviewing their grammar practice, and like most grammarians know, often there's just one correct answer. For instance, when identifying what a participial phrase modifies, one can identify only one word. Well, my students were not getting that, even though I kept repeating that the phrase modifies ONE word, not an additional phrase. *sigh* After about the umpteenth question (so, if they wrote "the blue car" do they receive credit?), I couldn't contain the irritation and annoyance. Was this the psycho pregnant lady? I dunno.
Extra #2: Weight. I know, I know, I've mentioned this before. But the focus this time is slightly different. I admit that I've gained weight (duh!), but I never fully accepted that the weight has to go somewhere. Obviously, I can see that much of it's in the belly; it's the rest of me (as in, what I normally don't see) that surprised me.
Last week I was at the gym (I'm refusing to abstain from exercise, even though it's not keeping me in svelte condition), and I happened to glance at myself in the ridiculously large lockeroom mirrors ... after I had worked out. Oh my! Let me paint you a picture. I was wearing a blue, fitted workout t-shirt that comes to about my waist (translation: it's not a loose t-shirt, but one that wicks away sweat), and a pair of black workout leggings (again, fitted). Well, since they covered my skin, I figured they fit. (Again, just re-read the opening lines of this entry.) So, back to the mirror. I happened to glance at my backside, and what I saw elicited a surprised, "How did THAT happen?" That's it. I had discovered WHERE the weight has been going... and it wasn't pretty. (It's still not pretty a week later.)
After making this discovery, I was tempted to forgo the gym all together, but I figure that the moderate exercise is at leasting keeping the weight gain under control. Plus, I really don't want to gain weight back there too fast. I mean, such a shock to the system takes time to accept.
Of course, I will have to revise some of my outfits. Looks like my long-sleeved t-shirts will now serve as waist definers/ behind disguisers. And in some cases, belly covers (since even my longer t-shirts--non-fitted-- are getting a bit too short).
Ahhh... the extra perks of pregnancy.
Extra #1: Hormones. Now, I honestly don't think that I've had "crazy pregnant woman" moments. I (foolishly) thought that I could get a straight answer about this from my husband; however, due to some of the books that I'm reading (specifically The Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy, thanks Dib), I realize that such an answer from Scott might be relative. (Even if I preface the question with a "be honest with me; I won't get upset with you," I don't think he will.) So, I'm still pretty confident that I'm not psychotic one minute and overly emotional the next. Granted, I do tear up at the occasional commercial or maybe the giggles hit me at odd times (like during Bible study last night), but what women doesn't have that happen? Really?
The only time I think I might be that crazy pregnant woman is during school ... on occasion. Take today, for instance. In truth, all went well, and the day was pretty much stress free. Then sixth period happened. Very nice kids... but too social (and at times immature) for their own good. They don't exactly understand how NOT to talk. (So frustrating!) Anyway, we were reviewing their grammar practice, and like most grammarians know, often there's just one correct answer. For instance, when identifying what a participial phrase modifies, one can identify only one word. Well, my students were not getting that, even though I kept repeating that the phrase modifies ONE word, not an additional phrase. *sigh* After about the umpteenth question (so, if they wrote "the blue car" do they receive credit?), I couldn't contain the irritation and annoyance. Was this the psycho pregnant lady? I dunno.
Extra #2: Weight. I know, I know, I've mentioned this before. But the focus this time is slightly different. I admit that I've gained weight (duh!), but I never fully accepted that the weight has to go somewhere. Obviously, I can see that much of it's in the belly; it's the rest of me (as in, what I normally don't see) that surprised me.
Last week I was at the gym (I'm refusing to abstain from exercise, even though it's not keeping me in svelte condition), and I happened to glance at myself in the ridiculously large lockeroom mirrors ... after I had worked out. Oh my! Let me paint you a picture. I was wearing a blue, fitted workout t-shirt that comes to about my waist (translation: it's not a loose t-shirt, but one that wicks away sweat), and a pair of black workout leggings (again, fitted). Well, since they covered my skin, I figured they fit. (Again, just re-read the opening lines of this entry.) So, back to the mirror. I happened to glance at my backside, and what I saw elicited a surprised, "How did THAT happen?" That's it. I had discovered WHERE the weight has been going... and it wasn't pretty. (It's still not pretty a week later.)
After making this discovery, I was tempted to forgo the gym all together, but I figure that the moderate exercise is at leasting keeping the weight gain under control. Plus, I really don't want to gain weight back there too fast. I mean, such a shock to the system takes time to accept.
Of course, I will have to revise some of my outfits. Looks like my long-sleeved t-shirts will now serve as waist definers/ behind disguisers. And in some cases, belly covers (since even my longer t-shirts--non-fitted-- are getting a bit too short).
Ahhh... the extra perks of pregnancy.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Good-bye "Abysmal Medusa", hello...
Now you don't think I'd tell you right away, did you? Delaying the reveal is so much more fun. Of course, the beauty of a blog is that you can scroll down and find the name right away anyway, and then come back and read the rest.
Anyway, Scott and I finally decided. We had narrowed it down to three names that we liked --Isabelle, Jordan, and Leah-- so the hard part was over and done with. Well, we (or more like I) ruled out Isabelle since it rhymes with Colwell; that would be way too cutesy for me. So... the winner is... Leah Jordan.
Now, I know we still have a few more months before Leah makes her arrival (actually, I'm six months today!), but we felt like we should share the name sooner rather than later. I know it would have been fun to keep her name a secret, but if we have to re-train ourselves regarding her name, won't everyone else? Plus, what if we were to slip up and say her name? And of course another reason for sharing her name is to lay claim to it. I know, I know, that seems a bit silly, but considering the number of friends and family that's expecting a little girl sometime in the near future (I know of at least seven people who are expecting girls), well, we thought we'd claim the name that we want in case others were also considering it.
Anyway, Scott and I finally decided. We had narrowed it down to three names that we liked --Isabelle, Jordan, and Leah-- so the hard part was over and done with. Well, we (or more like I) ruled out Isabelle since it rhymes with Colwell; that would be way too cutesy for me. So... the winner is... Leah Jordan.
Now, I know we still have a few more months before Leah makes her arrival (actually, I'm six months today!), but we felt like we should share the name sooner rather than later. I know it would have been fun to keep her name a secret, but if we have to re-train ourselves regarding her name, won't everyone else? Plus, what if we were to slip up and say her name? And of course another reason for sharing her name is to lay claim to it. I know, I know, that seems a bit silly, but considering the number of friends and family that's expecting a little girl sometime in the near future (I know of at least seven people who are expecting girls), well, we thought we'd claim the name that we want in case others were also considering it.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
What's in a name?
So Scott was looking up girl's names yesterday on-line when he came across Abby/ Abbie/ Abigail and its meaning. Now, keep in mind that we've been calling her "Abbie" since that's short for Abysmal (again... a JOKE). Since that's where the name originated, we cannot, by any means, name her Abbie or any sort of variation. (We don't want to guarantee her a life of therapy!) Keeping this in mind, I about laughed out loud when Scott told me the meaning of "Abbie". Ready for this? That name means "my father's joy."
On a side note, Scott did finally compile a list of names that he likes. Go figure that from that list I only like three of them (but that's enough to work with). I think he was a bit bummed that I didn't like more, but considering the number of people I encounter on a daily basis at work, well, it was almost inevitable that some of those names wouldn't work for me. Actually, he seemed more shocked than bummed over some names. He'd ask, "You don't like _____?" Looks like this naming thing is going to be a bit more challenging than either one of us had anticipated.
On a side note, Scott did finally compile a list of names that he likes. Go figure that from that list I only like three of them (but that's enough to work with). I think he was a bit bummed that I didn't like more, but considering the number of people I encounter on a daily basis at work, well, it was almost inevitable that some of those names wouldn't work for me. Actually, he seemed more shocked than bummed over some names. He'd ask, "You don't like _____?" Looks like this naming thing is going to be a bit more challenging than either one of us had anticipated.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
The best husband in the whole wide world
Okay, okay, so I know some of you might disagree with me, but I (like the rest of you) am biased. Well, plus I know my husband really is the best one. :)
Last Thursday was our anniversary (#4!). Unfortunately, Scott was scheduled to be on-call all last week, which meant that he was working until 10 PM or so. (Translation: I didn't get to see him at all since our hours didn't coincide.) Well, I knew that he was going to have to work on our anniversary, and since he had no say in the matter, I told him we could go out and celebrate the following Monday (we were headed out of town on Saturday). Was I bummed, yes, but I always am when I don't get to see him.
So... Thursday morning when I walked into the kitchen to eat breakfast, there's a bouquet and a card waiting on the island for me. Scott, despite a long day at work on Wednesday, had taken the time to make sure that I'd wake up to flowers on our actual anniversary.
Of course, knowing that he took the time to make sure my day would start off right (especially since we wouldn't see each other that night) brought a smile to my face.
Fast forward to that afternoon/ evening. Ann and I went for our usual Thursday walk, and since neither one of us had hubbies at home, we spent a bit more time than usual visiting. Needless to say, I didn't leave her house till just after 6:30. Still, I figured that the time wasn't a big deal since I'd be spending the evening alone. That is, until I pulled into our driveway and saw Scott's take-home sitting there. When I walked in the house, there was my husband, munching on a snack (though how you can call a quesadilla snack I don't know) and waiting for me. I was totally surprised; he had made no indication that he would be home early. None. Yet there he was, waiting for me so that we could celebrate.
Now, our usual anniversary dinner involves Arby's since that's where we stopped on our way to the airport after our wedding, but seeing as how I wasn't exactly dressed for going out to eat (remember, I had been walking earlier with Ann), he let me decide our dinner plans. So what did we do? Scott picked up a pizza for us. Afterwards, we curled up on the couch to watch our Thursday night shows ("Earl" and "The Office").
And you know, that was a great way to celebrate our day. Eating good food and just being in each other's presence.
Yup. My husband is the greatest husband in the world.
Last Thursday was our anniversary (#4!). Unfortunately, Scott was scheduled to be on-call all last week, which meant that he was working until 10 PM or so. (Translation: I didn't get to see him at all since our hours didn't coincide.) Well, I knew that he was going to have to work on our anniversary, and since he had no say in the matter, I told him we could go out and celebrate the following Monday (we were headed out of town on Saturday). Was I bummed, yes, but I always am when I don't get to see him.
So... Thursday morning when I walked into the kitchen to eat breakfast, there's a bouquet and a card waiting on the island for me. Scott, despite a long day at work on Wednesday, had taken the time to make sure that I'd wake up to flowers on our actual anniversary.
Of course, knowing that he took the time to make sure my day would start off right (especially since we wouldn't see each other that night) brought a smile to my face.
Fast forward to that afternoon/ evening. Ann and I went for our usual Thursday walk, and since neither one of us had hubbies at home, we spent a bit more time than usual visiting. Needless to say, I didn't leave her house till just after 6:30. Still, I figured that the time wasn't a big deal since I'd be spending the evening alone. That is, until I pulled into our driveway and saw Scott's take-home sitting there. When I walked in the house, there was my husband, munching on a snack (though how you can call a quesadilla snack I don't know) and waiting for me. I was totally surprised; he had made no indication that he would be home early. None. Yet there he was, waiting for me so that we could celebrate.
Now, our usual anniversary dinner involves Arby's since that's where we stopped on our way to the airport after our wedding, but seeing as how I wasn't exactly dressed for going out to eat (remember, I had been walking earlier with Ann), he let me decide our dinner plans. So what did we do? Scott picked up a pizza for us. Afterwards, we curled up on the couch to watch our Thursday night shows ("Earl" and "The Office").
And you know, that was a great way to celebrate our day. Eating good food and just being in each other's presence.
Yup. My husband is the greatest husband in the world.
Confession
I can honestly say that I will miss being in the classroom. Like most teachers, I've had good years and bad, many of which were determined by the students themselves (and in some cases their parents). The Lord has definitely blessed me with some wonderful students this year, though. Really. Though a couple of my classes are a bit too social at times, the students themselves are very likable and personable. I can actually be myself with them yet also instruct them. Case in point: the above picture. For homecoming last Friday, the juniors donned their gold to show their school spirit. When I looked out at my fourth period, I saw a sea of gold. I have not seen that sort of spirit in years! Their excitement and enthusiasm made me smile. Of course, when a couple students asked if they could take a picture, I couldn't deny them, so everyone sporting school spirit (and a few who felt the spirit but just didn't have the right apparel) jumped in the photo. (The "x" some of them are making is for Class of 2010.) Again, I'm really going to miss these guys.
Of course, it's not just current students that I'm going to miss. As a teacher, there's no greater satisfaction than a thanks or a visit from a former student. I wonder if students realize how much joy they can bring their teachers just by stopping by to visit. Perhaps this year more than most, I've had several students who have passed through my class stop by just to chat. Those visits remind me that this indeed was (and is) my calling. Like most other professions, we teachers need to be reminded at times that we're doing a great job, and that we're making a difference. What better reminder than from the students we teach? More evidence to that? The picture below. This was taken on Career Day (homecoming week). Nicole came dressed as me, complete with the pregnant bump! Nicole's one of those students who affirmed and thanked me regularly, not just as a former student, but when she was actually in my classroom, too. She also happened to be the first student that I told of my pregnancy (and boy, was she thrilled!). Again, students like Nicole and like my fourth period are why I teach... and why I'll leave the classroom with mixed feelings once our little girl arrives.
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