Reflections

Well, I said I was back, and then I disappeared. Such is life as a working mom with a nearly ten month old. But I need to make it a point to write more, as I need to have some mental clarity. I think writing helps with this.

I'll just say that the past month has been a blur. It all started with my birthday and a tickle in my throat. I had a great weekend with my family, but all the while, I had a sore throat, which progressed into a full-blown cold, that hit its high point the following Friday when I called in sick...and I have been catching up ever since.

This past weekend I started to make some headway into figuring out a few things about what I have been grappling with, as a mother, a wife...and just me in general.

Last week I told B that I wasn't very happy with a few things. In general, I am happy, but in other ways, I haven't been. I think it's been coming from my expectations both with myself and with my world. First, I expect myself to always give everyone 100% of me, which is absolutely impossible. Because I've been trying to achieve the unattainable, I have felt as though I am constantly ramming my head into a wall; at first it may not hurt that much, but after a while, it's one big painful mess. And basically I have to stop it.

I need to see what others see and not worry so much about what I think I should be doing, rather than what I am actually doing. On the outside, most people see a woman who has her shit together. I've always given off this air of confidence and composure, whether real or not, that has had others either admire me, or hate me, depending on their own insecurities--and there are a lot of insecure women out there. Internally, though, I have often felt as though I am coming apart at the seams. I have a feeling I'm not the only one who feels this way. I wonder how many of us feel this way on a daily basis. I bet it's quite many.

Why do we do these things to ourselves? Why do we put so much pressure on ourselves to do everything and be everything to everybody? Men don't put this pressure on themselves. I think maybe we could learn a few things from how men act in this world. We judge them for being "selfish." But it's not selfishness...not really. They just know who they are and don't try to please everyone all of the time. They know that some people won't be happy, and that's just how it is.

As an example, over the weekend, B played games and was online for a total of 3 hours. Granted, they were all done after D went to bed, but still, he had that free time. So I considered how he used his time, and rather than getting mad and rolling my eyes at how he used his time, I thought, "that is not a bad idea."

So, yesterday, I looked at B and said "I am going to have some ME time today." I of course asked if he could handle watching Daniel, and he said it was fine. So, I went out and went shopping and got a coffee. I cannot even tell you just how GOOD that felt to do. I felt more relaxed, less stressed and like my old self. I was only out for an hour and a half, but oh my was it nice. And the best part: I bought some stylish clothes that I am currently wearing. So my hour and a half of me time also impacted today because I liked what I had on, and felt like a young professional mom who has all of her shit together...and I got there by being just a little selfish. Isn't that something?

Oh, and also, when I got home I saw the wreckage from this morning when I had a rough start...but I'm not going to worry about it and get upset. I'll take care of it in a little while...or maybe I won't. Isn't that something?

I am back!

Well, it has been quite a while, hasn't it? Not that anyone reads this, but still, it has been a while. Can't imagine what I've been up to!

So much in life has changed in the past year, and in some ways, much is the same. I'm still teaching. I still go to work everyday and come home to a happy place. What's interesting is that when I look back on the years when I came home from work, my mental image of that time is darker. Now when I'm home, it's very bright and energized. I used to come home and raid the fridge and then go spend a good chunk of time online until B came home. Now my afternoon is filled with D crawling around, nursing, and me just barely able to make it into the kitchen to grab something to eat. With all of the activity both at home and work, it's no wonder I've dropped most of my baby weight, give or take 5 pounds! Anyway, when I look back at that time, I don't miss it. I think to myself that life was very dull before D came into the picture. I loved my life with B, but I wouldn't change it back to the way it was. Not for all of the money in the world.

Anyway, I'm going to write more soon, but as I type I hear D talking to B, and I just want to go to bed, for I am one exhausted momma.

Checking in

Well, I have not posted in quite a while because of our brand new baby, who was born on January 4th, 2010. He was technically 2 days early, but actually right on time by my own calendar, as I knew when I ovulated.

So, I am now a part of the mom club. And yes, we do plan to have another, but stop after that.

Hopefully I'll have a little more time to post my random pontifications now that D is a little bit older.

For the record, I have a few brief comments on our nation and the economy.

First, I know we are technically in a recovery, but I think we're still in trouble as a country. The past 8 years of unregulated lending will take at least (my guess) another ten years to truly dig out. I'm not just talking about our country. The whole world got into an orgy of unchecked borrowing and lending, and the hangover has been brutal. Although our country claims the worst is over, the rest of the world isn't making quite such a claim. Given Greece and Portugal's recent SOS, I'd say we ain't seen nothin' yet.

Also, I'm really not sure what to think of our current president these days. I still approve of him as a whole, but I'm not feeling the love for him on a few of his recent initiatives. I believe the so-called healthcare reform has become nothing but a watered down version of the original intent that has pandered to the insurance industry and lobbyists, which basically will do nothing to keep costs down. And although I approve of his tax credit ideas for small businesses, it misses the point that if there is no business to be spoken of, a small business cannot hire employees simply to get a tax credit. It makes no sense. We'll see what happens, and I try to remember that Clinton faced fierce opposition in '93, but right now, I'm not feelin' it dawg.

Resolutions, Schmesolutions

Last night, as I sat through more labor pains, which culminated in a big pile o' nothing (but I still have 4 days to go), I thought about resolutions that people make at the advent of each new year. Here are my thoughts.

According to statistics, only 6% of the people who make resolutions actually follow through on them for the entire year. Despite our gung-ho enthusiasm for losing weight, exercising more and saving money, by February most people go back to their old ways. I think I know why.

If you know you want to lose weight, and set a start date for doing it, you probably aren't as committed to it as you'd like to think. In the meantime, it also gives you a period of time in which you essentially do whatever you want, as far as eating, saving, whatever goes. So to say, "for the new year, I resolve to start a diet and lose ten pounds," probably means that you're actually okay with being ten pounds overweight, and if you don't lose that ten pounds, then it's okay, which is why people who make such resolutions rarely follow through on them. On the plus side, many gyms and companies who cater to such whims are ready and willing to take the profits from such failed dreams.

Same goes for saving money. When I graduated college, I had my first salary-earning job. I was making the most money I had ever made ($28K) in my life, and I wanted to enjoy the fruits of my labor. All throughout college, I envied the other girls who had tons of clothes in their closets. I was not one of those girls. I had to earn the clothes I bought through waiting tables, being a merchandiser for Brita water for a brief stint, and doing whatever else I could to pay rent, bills and buy a few outfits on the side. So when I landed my first job, I had a choice to make: save the money, or spend it. I decided to spend it; and spend it, I did. I also decided that I would start saving money by the age of 25, and I was happy with that.

Meanwhile, my husband began saving money as soon as he was out of college, and I have to say, his savings exceed mine by far. I can't say whether or not he was better off for it in other ways. He hated his furniture, where he lived, his clothes, etc. Meanwhile, I would go ahead and put a coffee table on my credit card and pay it off in 4 payments, rather than dropping all of my money on one table, and I had cash left over each month, just in case. I also bought a keyboard, new bed, furnishings and many other things I wanted to have a decent apartment. Even though I decided I wouldn't worry about saving money for three years, I did manage to have enough money set aside so I could quit working full time and concentrate on grad school full time while working part time.

The point of that little story is that I was okay to not save money for a while, and by putting a deadline on myself, it made it easier to be a little less responsible with my money and to not be as well set as my husband. And I'm actually okay with that. I've still managed to save more than your average 30-something, and I no longer put large ticket items on credit cards. Now saving money is no longer discretionary, it's mandatory.

So I contend that people who put new year's as a date to start losing weight are actually doing themselves a disservice if they TRULY want to lose weight. The time to start is not an arbitrary date, but as soon as you can. It also takes going through your cabinets and throwing out all of those things that held you back from keeping off the weight.

By the same token, if you want to save money, don't wait until a start date. Do it as soon as you know you want to do it. Make a plan for eliminating any outstanding debt, work it into your monthly budget, and as soon as you know what you can comfortably afford to do, do it. Don't wait for new year's. Let the new year be a celebration for all of your accomplishments, not a chance to look back and see where you went wrong and try to make amends with the past. There is, as they say, no time like the present.

Bringing in the New Year

Okay, so here's the rundown on the last year for me, personally:

*Went to Paris and London for the very first time.

*Got pregnant for the very first time.

*Discovered the school that everyone loves to work in, including me. Apparently I was just teaching the wrong grade and hadn't really gotten to know the people.

*Became closer with B's family.

*Gained a new appreciation for my old body.

In a nutshell, that has been my year.

The past decade sucked in so many ways. Shall we count them? No, because that's what the news is for. We all know how terrible this past decade has been in terms of world events. For me, personally, it was mostly good, with a touch of bad, and here's how it went:

*Met and began dating my husband in 2000.

*2001: Had to discover what it's like to pick up the pieces of a man, my dad, who fell apart and into the hospital for 6 months, which changed his life forever.

*2002: determined to have my own life and make my own way after going through hell with my dad's illness, I decided to go to grad school to become a teacher. I had this realization while visiting my sister in CA, after the birth of her first daughter in 2002. Inspiration can come in tiny packages.

*2003: finally broke free from my roommate and moved out on my own. It was awesome, and with the thanks of B, I found an apartment that was perfect for me as I went through grad school. I recommend to anyone living on your own for a little while before settling down with anyone. It is truly liberating and empowering.

*2004: one of my best years in Charlottesville.

*2005: finally finished my Master's and began teaching in the fall of 2005. Also moved in with B in a place we still talk about to this day. It was so tiny and had its problems (heating unit freezing over in the middle of the night, so we had to go out and chip away the ice to warm up our house, noxious smell came from the washing machine, and the master bathroom had no door), but we loved it for its gorgeous views, the hot tub, deck off to the side, where we had many a dinner and spent many hours playing cards and drinking wine, big snowstorms that came and painted our world in pristine white....it was perfect for us.

*2006: Picked up and moved to Virginia Beach.

*2007: got married!

*2008: that's a blur, mostly. Went to Disney World with B for his first trip there.

*2009...up above.

So yes, aside from 2001, I really can't complain. As for the rest of the world, may we have a more peaceful decade ahead of us.

In a Constant Work of Progress

It never ceases to amaze me that no matter how long you are in a relationship with someone, that relationship is a constant work in progress. Perhaps this is because people always change, or maybe it's because we're exposed to new situations which reveal particular nuances of the person you're with. Nevertheless, it's always an interesting ride.

Over the past few days, B and I have been dealing with a faulty refrigerator. Yesterday I spent my morning e-mailing our landlord and calling various repair places to get here ASAP. Although it was only 42 degrees out and we had our food on the balcony, time was of the essence. My pulse started racing and the tension within my body was palpable. As I'd been sitting there making calls and trying to get it fixed, he was sitting there playing a game on his X-Box (I swear there should be a phenomenon called X-Box Dads and Husbands). As he tapped the controller buttons and twisted his body while he tried to control his CGI race car, I stared at him.

At the end of his race, "Yes?" he asked. "Well, I'd like you to call M. I've sent him e-mails, but haven't gotten a response," I said. He sits there and continues to play on into his next race. "I heard you," he assures me. More minutes pass and I feel the pressure grow from within, and no, this isn't the baby moving downward. I continue, "I feel stressed. I feel like this is all falling onto me, and last night I was in a lot of pain, I think from stress from the week."

So he pauses his game and sends a text message to our landlord. (It's a good thing having a landlord who is our age.)

While we wait for the landlord's response, he continues on and says, "Why don't WE look for repair places." In this case, WE means YOU. Pressure rises, and I walk away. I go online and find places who can come on a Saturday afternoon, and relay the information back to him. He continues to play.

Over the course of the next few hours, we find a repair place and set up an appointment. In that time, he cleaned underneath the fridge, which was quite helpful, since I can't get down there in my current state. The night before, he had taken out all of the frozen items and put them in boxes to go outside, since it was 18 degrees that night. I should also mention that in that hour or two, I also let him know that I felt like he was perfectly content to let me sit and make the calls while he busily plays away. He agreed and said he'd rather not call anyone because he doesn't want to talk to people. Once the repair men came, he handled the visit from start to finish. Immediately my pulse rate lessened and the pressure I felt disappeared as quickly as it came.

Later on, B and I were talking as we drove back from a cousin's house. He said, "I'm a worker bee. I'd rather get into things and do things. I don't want to call people, but I don't mind getting dirty to fix things." He had also bought a saw to trim our new Christmas tree, and I could tell he really enjoyed it. Later that night, he also cleaned the freezer before putting any food back into it. I sat and thought about that and told him that I was a thinker, a planner. So for us, I'm the planner, and he's the doer. Plan it out, and then just tell him what to do, and he will do it, albeit in his own way. I'd say that's a pretty balanced pair.

In the future, I need to do a better job of remembering what our strengths are, so they fit in better with our roles within our house and life. Also, I need to remember this so when I feel my blood pressure rising, I can calm myself down more quickly. Perhaps it's hormonal, but I have felt this pressure rise ever since we began our journey together ten years ago.

Our big test and journey through self-discovery will come when the baby arrives. Remember: I'm the planner, he's the doer. Not to say that I don't do things to, but still, this it what it all boils down to. Also remember: breathe.

Fighting the Good Fight

When I began my studies in education seven years ago, I entered the field not with the intention of maintaining status quo, but with the intention of changing education in small and incremental ways. I know, I was delusional to think that I could have made any difference whatsoever in a system that is so archaic and myopic, but nonetheless, I joined the ranks of thousands of teachers and every day I try to make a difference to children. Some days I fail miserably, and some days I am almost in tears when I see the progress of some children. Usually that does not come until the middle to end of the year.

Then there are some children who, despite every attempt to intervene on their behalf, do not progress as adequately as they should. This year I have a student who is currently TWO years below grade level in reading. He has learned to compensate for his reading deficiencies by learning how to take tests very well, such that he is able to reason through tests and correctly identify answers. Despite his average achievement, I brought his case to a child study meeting. To me, failing to address a child's obvious disability in reading is negligent; and as his teacher it is my job to try and do whatever I can to help him.

So today we sat in the meeting about this child, and the school psychiatrist acknowledged that there was a problem, but wanted to "wait and see" how he does. They have been waiting to see how he does since he was in the first grade. He has been consistently well below grade level for years, and yet they refuse to test him for a disability. Having knowledge of the system and its shortcomings, his mother and I have already initiated testing from an outside source, because I knew that the school would choose to do nothing.

As I sat there and listened to the psychiatrist and the other special education teacher, the word negligence continued to go through my mind.

Tonight I just looked up what educational negligence is, and according to public education laws, it exists within the realm of physical harm to a student, but the definition does not include academic harm to a student. In my opinion, if a school or school district acknowledges that there is a problem with a student such as the case is with my student, to choose to do nothing is negligent. For teachers to continuously bring a student up for study, and for the teachers to be denied the right to proceed with testing is negligent. In my mind, it is unlawful and it is NOT acceptable.

When I started grad school, I had the intention of going into education policy. But once I entered the classroom and saw all that administration had to deal with, I decided against going into administration. Now, I am reconsidering the notion of going into education policy, only this time, I am looking at it from a prosecutorial standpoint, rather than a defensive standpoint.

Usually I think schools get a bad reputation unnecessarily, but in this case, I believe the blame for an adult becoming functionally illiterate falls squarely on the shoulders of the system. The system has failed that child, and I wonder if I am on the right side of things. Sure, I can teach a child to read, and I can do as much as I can, but when I am part of a system that chooses not to help a child, am I really on the right side? And, what is the right side?

The answer I continuously arrive at is that if I don't like the system, then I need to try and change the system. How can I affect change? I wish I really knew the answer. Part of me thinks I need to pursue education law, but then part of me thinks I need to keep trying with what I'm doing. On the flip side of that, I recognize a perilous pursuit when I see one.

At the end of the meeting today, the child's mom praised me for my efforts and how "awesome" I have been for her son. I smiled, but I couldn't appreciate what she said, because ultimately I am still failing him. I never went into this field for myself. I went into this field because of the kids, because I wanted to do something good for others, and in so doing, to feel fulfilled. I know I am not failing him, but it's hard to not feel that way when you keep running up against a brick wall.

When I came home tonight, I thought of whether or not I really have the energy to fight the good fight. And then I thought of people like Teddy Kennedy, who fought for most of his life for equality. After having seen his old speeches made to Congress, I understood why he was called the Lion. He had a platform to speak out, and maybe I am just not at the right place to speak out and make a difference. Maybe one day I'll figure out the answers.

There's ambition, and then there's reality.

On Sunday night, I felt what I thought were remnants of my cold dissipating of into the vastness of the past. I stayed up until 10:30 preparing lessons for the weeks ahead, fully motivated to end my last three weeks with a bang. Then Monday morning came. I told B I thought I was worse than the day before, but I went in to work anyway.

The trouble with working up until the very end of pregnancy isn't the lack of sleep, at least for me. I have been fairly lucky to get sleep, up until this point. The main problem is that my body is in no way prepared to deal with teaching 40 kids all day long, and so my adrenaline kicks in to help me endure the day's progression. So although I may feel fine during the day, 2:30 usually signals my decline, and by 3:00, the adrenaline wears off and I am exhausted. Last night, I was beyond exhausted, and by 1am, I threw in the towel and put in for a sub. Another week damaged.

The rest of the week won't be any better. Tomorrow I have an appointment with my OB, and because I have to get a sub, I can't just step out for an hour and then return. I can't call in for a sub for just an hour, so I have to take the afternoon off. This may sound good, but when you have a deadline approaching, essentially you have to pull and pray: put out the plans, hope the kids do it, and when they take their test, they do well while I'm gone.

The following morning I have two child study meetings, neither of which do I expect any tangible long-term results; which is why a parent and I have initiated testing outside of the district because my faith in the system is perhaps not at its highest. So, again, I will have someone in the room covering for me while I am in those meetings. And then, on Friday, we have a field trip. I will honestly be amazed if the kids are successful this week, as I believe they do not perform as well when I am gone. I suppose they had better get used to it though.

Mentally, I have thrown in the towel. Physically, I know just to try and survive. Whatever I can accomplish between now and the 22nd will be a bonus, and as for everything else, I will just do the best I can. More and more, emphasis is placed on my home life anyway.

Perhaps this is a sign of things to come. I think it is. Perhaps this is my new reality: one with grand ambitions and disappointing realities. I know moms always have to contend with these conflicting issues, and I will join the ranks soon enough. I suppose that right now, along with Braxton-Hicks, the interrupted sleep (I do get up, but then fall back asleep), I am just practicing for the real thing. Thank goodness my profession is one that requires flexibility at all times. My ligaments are still stretching, so I am flexing in more ways than one!

Help me.

Possible reality check here

It has occurred to me that the longer I am away from work, the less I want to go back. It's not because I don't love what I do, but I'm really wondering....when I am there, I feel like I am needed, and the need is strong. I feel like I am really helping kids who need extra support, but then, when I have days like today, where I ache, and I am teary because I feel like a failure with everything I try, I wonder if going back this spring is really what I should do....time will tell.

Frailty

Yesterday I went out to get a haircut, and when I came back, B told me about his mother falling down concrete steps at work as she went into the basement of her bank. She cut her head, which required five stitches, and she broke her wrist. B's cousin went to meet her at the ER, and she was promptly discharged after receiving treatment and having a battery of tests run on her.

We decided to go to his hometown, which is about 45 minutes from here. She was at the cousin's house, so we went to see her there. What B saw was a little unnerving, and for me, it just served as a reminder of how frail we can become.

Her forearm was wrapped in a bandage, and she had a huge ice pack sitting on it. Her left eye started to swell and bruise from the cut up on her forehead. And well, she just looked frail, sitting there on the sofa, eyes half-opened, and clearly shaken from the whole experience. This may have been the first time B has ever seen his mother as the vulnerable human being that she is, and it bothered him.

After we left his cousin's house, we went into her house to see what food she needed. This is the part I hate the most, and it conjures up images from when my dad went into the ER in October, 2001 and we went back to his house to get his belongings.

When someone goes into the hospital unexpectedly, she has no idea that someone else may see how she had been living up until that point. No one lives in a perfectly kept house, but sometimes, secrets are revealed when she least expects it; and for those who discover the secret, feelings of worry, disbelief and unease prevail.

When my dad went into the hospital, we discovered several things: first, that he had taken a bad fall when he had a seizure, and told no one. The evidence left was a broken chair on the balcony. The second was that he was trying to end his vomiting by making and eating TONS of Jello. The evidence: several empty bowls of red Jello in the kitchen. He got the idea for this from when I had the stomach flu 13 years earlier and the doctor had me eat Jello to help ease the nausea. Another bit of evidence left behind were the countless packs of medicine on the kitchen counter that he had been using to try and treat himself. The most damning of all evidence: a giant box of wine, which he later swore was not his (yes, dad, and the cigarettes you smelled really came from my friend...). When we found these things, we were in total disbelief. I also felt guilt for seeing what he had been going through, but never bothered to tell anyone about.

For B's mother, we were in disbelief for other reasons. As we stepped into the kitchen, we saw weeks and weeks of mail scattered and stacked about in the kitchen. It was all over the kitchen table, on the counters, in her office, and in B's old room. EVERYWHERE. Countless pairs of shoes were not far off from the piles of mail, and save for a can of almonds and a bag of cookies sitting on the counter, we could tell that she had been trying to lose weight by drinking drink mixes and eating frozen dinners. Not that I could fault her for that. Living alone, you don't really feel compelled to cook very much.

As I walked around her house, I couldn't help but think of my dad when he was sick. Looking at all of this, I wondered what was going on. I had been there before, but it was always an announced visit, and she had usually managed to straighten the house before we came. This time, we caught her with her pants down, and it wasn't pretty.

I grew increasingly worried as I looked through the contents of the wreckage. Old bills and coupons were intermingled, newspapers were unopened...it was just a mess. Thankfully, B said that this is normal for her, so my unease relented.

Less than 24 hours later, I can't shake the feeling of unease about her. From what we saw, one thing was obvious: she needs to sell the house and move into a condo. The house and its upkeep are just too much for her. I got the sense that she is overwhelmed in her life, and some of the unnecessary weight needs to be taken off her shoulders. She has been at her bank for 40 (yes 40) years, and she is also managing the finances of her church, and in between, she is also taking care of elderly people, and of course worrying about her son being ready for the baby.

It's been eight years since my dad fell ill, and in that time, I have had to cognitively distance myself from the risks associated with living alone. He has fallen several times since, but thankfully has not broken anything. I hate hearing about his missteps and I do not want to go through what I went through with him before, but we also have our own life to live, and we deserve the chance to start a new family and a new life, just like every other younger couple.

I hope that this fall served as a good reminder to B's mom that she is not invulnerable to injury, that her life is just as precious as everyone else's. It definitely opened up B's eyes, and served as a reminder that as much as we would like to, we just can't move wherever we want, and assume that nothing will happen to our parents if we do. Like it or not, we have two parents who are growing older, and eventually both of them will need care, and it will most likely be from the both of us. I don't like it, but I have just had to accept this as fact.

In the meantime, I can take comfort in knowing that we are not far from either of them if they should show their true and frail colors once again.