I'm outta here!

So I am off to lands beyond to snorkel, play with dolphins, see ancient ruins and river falls. I promise to return refreshed and with many stories to tell.

~Sandy

Where for art thou?

Today was the Romeo and Juliet performance for the 9th grade English classes. My kids rock. Let me just say that from the first. I nearly popped every bottom on my shirt, pants and everything else I was so proud. Let me share the moments we've had so far though. (Many of these were at rehearsals, only one at the performance. Guess, which...)

1. "And lips, you doors to breast...."

2. As they attempted to drag Juliet's limp body off, they all got a case of the giggles and dropped her. Further they dropped her in such a way that they started to pull her skirt off. She rose quickly from the dead, yanked up skirt, righted herself and raced backstage.

3. Juliet, pleading with her father on her knees, is jerked up by her father suddenly as he accidentally is standing on her hem.... (thank god for the shorts!)

4. The balcony was set up wrong, so that when Juliet launches herself into Romeo's arms, the front fell down with them.

5. Juliet couldn't find Romeo's dagger, so she went looking through his pockets as he lay dead.

6. Benvolio attempted to sit on a block/set piece, missed and fell head over tea kettle.

God has given me such joy with these children. They are only ninth graders and the envy of the drama classes. The "real" regular drama teacher won't let the advanced kids do Shakespeare. He says they are not ready. They are so jealous of my angels, who won't win any oscars, but are giving it their all and having a marvelous time. I think the other teacher is being so stingy with this gift of drama. No one is ever "ready" to do Shakespeare. So we do it anyway.

Oh, even with out tomorrow nights performance I could ride on this for weeks!

Hi to high fortune!

You cannot be serious...

The assignment has been out there, posted and discussed for more than three weeks. It was due last Friday, I extended deadline until today, just to be nice.

Sweet, cherubic faced child walks up to me, big grin on his face and says, "My Special Education
Modifications say that I get more time, and seeing as everyone got extra time, I get extra time past what they get and I'll turn it in on Friday. Thanks."

"Well, have you been working on it the whole time such that you need the extra time?" I asked.

He smiled until his dimples showed and said, "Oh, no. I'll probably do it the night before it's due."

I can honestly say I nearly became a liability to my county because so help me I came this close to killing the kid. What's worse, when I called his mom, she said, "He'll have it on Friday and his IEP says he gets the extra time. We'll talk to him about procrastinating, tomorrow."

Thanks.

Breaking Fast

True to the promise of the book I am 8 pounds lighter this morning than I was Sunday Morning. Now, how much of that is water weight and such and is already back by now, who knows, and while fasting yesterday was a trial(!), I feel energized this morning. So I guess this is a good thing. But I can't tell you how terrific breakfast was this morning! WOW!

Last week of school before our two week break and I am just racing through. Romeo and Juliet performance on Thursday night, no one will win an Oscar, but it should be entertaining and educational. Most importantly I think the kids learned something.

It's funny. I abhorred being told on the Church play that the process was the most important thing. Made me nuts and I tried to explain that if I (the director) attempted to produce a play that way it would guarantee that it was not good. This time, with the school group, not that I would ever say this to the kids, it really is the process that is more important. They are learning and performing Shakespeare! In the original language and further this is the first experience many of them have had with a production on this level. What a journey, and I got to watch!

Our lives are such funny things. They double back on us when we aren't looking.

The point is, in five more days, I am so outa here!

Pumping Iron

I am an idiot.

For the life of me I could not figure out why I was so tired. Then it dawned on me this morning. With this detox diet I've been taking a new set of suppliments, and left off my old ones. Not much of a difference, but... (And this but is almost as big as mine!) I wasn't taking any iron. Now, big women (like myself) who also happen to be anemic (like myself) who don't take their iron (like I wasn't!) tend to get.... (wait for it...)

TIRED!

So I took it this morning. My what a difference it makes. I don't even miss my coffee!

Tired

Today I am just tired. Don't know why. My trainer, Greg, blames the diet, but he thinks diet is stupid. Maybe it is, but I've come over half way and I know I am eating lots of all the good stuff, so I don't see what that has to do with it. Maybe today, I'm just tired.

Bed calls.

Dreaming of Coffee

So the organic experience require that I don't drink coffee, tea or consume chocolate. No caffeine. Okay, eleven days, no big, I can deal.

Except that the coffee machine in the teacher's lounge is starting to call my name and I hear it everywhere I go.

I am not making this up.

Then this afternoon some other teachers were having a chocolate chip cookie and they offered some to me and when I said no, the cookie said I was being ridiculous for not having a bite.

I am still not making this up.

Then when I got home, Nana told me that prince charming was waiting in the living room to take me away to his castle where I would have my own personal masseur and my students would all do their homework each night and write letters to the principal as to how wonderful I am.

Then I woke up. The sad part is all I can think about is how I wish I had drank a cup of that coffee.

Nana strikes again

I am so not a morning person. This is a well documented (family, friend and even professionally) fact. Now, when I say I am not a morning person, that means for the first 30 minutes to an hour after I wake from a deep sleep. The longer/deeper the sleep the longer the grouch period afterward. The only person I know who cannot seem to understand this idiosyncrasy of my personality is unfortunately the only person I live with, Nana.

Every morning as I try not to poke my eye out with my mascara brush she sticks her head in the bathroom, "do you want a cup of coffee?" Then she holds out the cup of coffee she has made to me. Now in the two years we have been together I have never drunk my coffee in the bathroom while trying to poke my eye out with mascara. Every morning she offers anyway. I try not to snap, some mornings more successfully than others.

Then I'll be looking for something (keys, phone, purse, shoes, etc.) and she asks over and over what it is, but because I am moving she can't hear me when I answer. This gets old fast as a routine. Clearly she wants to help, but all it does is slow me down.

Lastly she always manages to stand right in front of whatever it is I need to get to and her reflexes and ability to discern where I am heading are not really all that good. So I end up trying to get by and end up catching her from falling over in my rush instead.

The thing is, she means well and later in the day all this stuff is endearing and I try so hard to be loving and thoughtful and she hugs on me and says how glad she is she lives with me and in the morning I am such an ogre.

This morning I was running late. Those are the really special interactions. I'm racing around trying to get caught up and she's following me around asking how she can help. I tell her I've got it so she starts making suggestions, "Can I make you an egg?" "Can I pour you a milk?" "Do you have your lunch?" "Are you wearing shoes?" "Did you remember to put on a slip?" Then we got to my favorite, "Are you sure you want to wear that?" This from the woman who is wearing a pale pink sweater over a turtleneck over pajamas with long johns, orange sweat pants and food all over it. Not to mention pantless in the back yard! (see earlier post). So again, like too often I snapped.

I don't say much, and nothing to the effect that she shouldn't be here, just "Nana I've got it, leave me alone!" It's just she gets this hang dog look on her face and you would think I just killed her dog. Then she nods and says, "I know, mornings are not your best time." I swear I could just ..... Oh!

So now I feel like a jerk and I'm sure Nana will get the ice cream that she shouldn't really have tonight as a surprise. Oh well.

When do I grow out of this?

On Monday nights I talk to a delightful young lady who I love like a little sister. Only last night I was a jerk and fell asleep and forgot to call. To be fair, it's a new tradition that we are developing to stay connected now that I live five hours away and she's just starting college this year. But even being a new thing, I still dropped the ball. Anyway...

So today I called her to tell her what a jerk I was. She just laughed and loved me anyway. We talked briefly about our days, what was going on in our lives and the most important subject, boys.

It's so funny, exhilarating and heartbreaking to listen to a young girl talk about boys. The hope in her voice, the excitement and the anticipation of what may or may not come. This is a beautiful, healthy, happy, brilliant and friendly young lady whom I know the magic will happen for sooner than later, so I'm not too worried about this for her overall in the end. It's wonderful to get to see though, even in an odd way the tribulations as much as the triumphs, because they are all part of the process and all very normal.

Anyway another teacher, a guy, overheard part of the conversation. He waited until I hung up and then did that staring waiting thing to find out who I was talking to and about what, but with out actually asking. I told him it was a good friend and that she had asked me about my romantic life (or lack there of) and he laughed and said that was all young people think about. I chuckled with him and went on with what I was doing. But then I started to think about it.

No, it's not just young people who think about it all the time. (Oh and by the way, both he and I are only thirty and I am most certainly not old yet!) Being single, I think about "it" a lot. When I am out and about I think to myself how it would be nice to have someone with me, holding my hand. When I am sad I think of how it would be nice to be held, and when I am happy I think how it would be nice to share that with someone. But I also am thinking about whether or not I paid the water bill, whether or not I reminded Nana to take a shower before she went to her doctor's appointment, whether or not I have fed the dogs today and most importantly did I put on deodorant this morning. So maybe it's more that there is less room to be filled with just the issue of that someone. More like the thoughts kind of float around over us just waiting for us to focus one them, but even when we don't they are still there.

Many of my friends are married. They spend a lot of time talking (and most likely thinking therefore) about their husbands/wives, children and family issues. Those conversations take the place of the "who I'm dating and where is this relationship going" conversations we used to have, but they are basically the same issues, being with the someone we so longed to find before. In their cases, the issues of marriage and family almost become more consuming than the issues outside, because the issues blur together in a lot of ways. A friend of mine came to school the other day, late from dropping off her son at daycare, because her husband is sick, and said to me, "I'm so busy and tired, I can't even remember if I put on my panties this morning!"
(TMI!!!!)

So I don't envy my young friend her moments and daydreams, I still have my own too, I just have to schedule time for them, or at lest not focus on them as much. And someday, she'll say to me as she rocks her children and walks around the house with some wonderfully perfect husband that I know she will have, "remember when all I thought about was some boy?" and I'll smile and say, "yeah, cause you never think about that stuff now."

Of course, that in itself is something I look forward to anyway.

A totally organic experience

So Nana and I are doing the Fat Flush Detox diet thing. What a headache. I mean, I'm sure we will feel better and all. I won't bore anyone with the details of what a toxic body looks like on the inside. Oh the horror of the description in the book. But going organic (just for 11 days) is time consuming and expensive!

Plus these organic people can be very touchy. One guy felt I had cut him off in the produce isle and threw a berkenstock at me! I explained that this was not how adults communicated. He flipped me off and pushed past. Guess he's still toxic.

Who came first, Sandy or Lee?

Have you ever noticed that people who are married are "older" than people who are not? My brother is three years younger than I am but now that he is married, he feels he is the older, wiser, sibling. This is terribly funny to me.

Lee was born one week before my 3rd birthday. For many years I was very frustrated because while I knew I was oler he had his birthday first. So I made my parents switch us to correct God's mistake. Then when I turned 8 I wanted to know why we didn't celebrate my birthday on the right day. My poor folks, they couldn't win.

Now, Lee is a married minister and I am an "old spinster school marm" as people occasionally joke when they think I can't hear them. He calls to check up on me. I remind him I am older. He just laughs and says very patronizinly "of course you are."

This is not in my head.

Oh well, I always wanted an older brother anyway, Lee will have to do.

No Pain, No Gain

When I was in college my first two years I was in NROTC and on the drill team. I worked out anywhere from 8 to 12 times a week, two hours a pop and was still behind everyone else in terms of strength and stamina. Then I did it because I needed the scholarship, enjoyed the camaraderie and also I was young and it was fun.

Now I am not so young, there is no gorgeous marine in front of me who I keep up with so I can enjoy that back view and a mean one behind me telling me to move my lazy butt. Mostly, I didn't miss that motivational marine behind me, so what have I done with my life(?), hired a person at my gym to fill the void. Three times a week for two hours I subject myself to what ever Greg tells me to do. Squats, push ups, treadmill, stair masters, presses, curls, lunges, anything you say, Greg. And I am paying this man my hard earned money to do this to me! I come home and fall asleep in my dinner that is barely warm because I was too starved to wait until I got it heated through!

Each time Greg askes me as we finish up how I feel. Yesterday I told him he'd know how I felt by how many pins he felt stick him when I got my hands on the voodoo doll I have at home with his face on it. He just laughed. I guess he's used to that. The other day he asked me to do something and I swore under my breath. He asked if that meant I wasn't going to do it. I answered, "Of course I'm going to do this, I'm paying you to make me do this. I just hate you for it." He laughed (he really is a great guy, supper nice and encouraging) and said, "I get that a lot."

I often feel that teaching is the most thankless job on earth. As teachers we have to find our own inner justification and peace with what we do or we would go nuts. However, I imagine now that being a trainer is worse. But I also figure he says a healthy body takes work and is not won by laziness. I also guess that holds true of his profession. If it was easy and everyone could stand being threatened with death and dismemberment for doing exactly what that person is paying you to do, everyone would be a trainer and everyone would be thin and healthy.

No Pain, No Gain.

Piled Higher and Deeper

The nightmares are starting. Having come to the realization that I am not going to be able to escape getting a PhD I am now examining programs and schools. My hope had been to start this fall. Nope, I missed the entrance deadlines by two weeks. Now I have to wait a year. No two schools have the same program or program requirements. Some people seem to want blood and DNA sample and the promise of a first born... to get in. Once you are in the requirements get scarier. One English program requires that I have reading ability in two other languages. One (and maybe they weren't serious, but...) required that you contact, chronicle and be able to converse in Martian! Dad already has his PhD, sister in law married into family with one, brother intends to get his, so this is inevitable, I know. Worse, everyone I come in contact with insists I need to do this. The world needs me, they say, and it needs me with this title. I'm thinking maybe I need to found my own university, student and staff population of one and give myself an honorary degree. Then I can go teach coconuts on a deserted island how to talk. They'll call me Dr. Nuts.

This post is a result of lack of sleep from the PhD nightmares. I'll be fine in a couple of days...

Speaking of Pants

I am fast approaching my limit on pant styles on kids at school today. The boys wear them too tight or too loose and low so I can see their bright colored boxers (or athletic shorts) over the top and the girls wear them tight and low so I can either see their midriff or even better the top of their thong. This is all against dress code, but often, to save time, teachers say, "Pull your pants up," "Pull your shirt down," "Put a sweatshirt/jacket/over shirt on." Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to teach I would just be writing referrals. Even then, my students just roll their eyes and as soon as they think I can't see them re-adjust to their preference.

Today I lost it. I told my kids that I had a right to feel comfortable in my own classroom and that if I wore clothes like that I would be fired and if they did again I would write them up and include sexual harassment as part of the charge. Further I went on to explain to them that while all jobs that were legal, and helped you make a living were as far as I was concerned, good jobs, that they should make a list of what most people considered good jobs and what people considered less favorable jobs and then spend some time looking at how people in those jobs dressed. They may find that the people who had their fashion sense were less likely to be found in the jobs they preferred to have. What did that say about the image they projected for themselves.

Lastly I told them that the only people I knew of who liked that style consistently on others were police officers because if people with pants that won't stay up try to run from a crime they often find the pants trip them up making it easier for the police to catch them.

Maybe I'm unreasonable. Maybe I have no fashion sense. Obviously there are differences with styles over time. My mother thought me wearing bangs shillacked up past my forehead was stupid and in hind-sight I agree. Nor do I wear that anymore. None of my teachers or the professionals I saw at the time wore that style either, so maybe these kids will grow out of it too... Hopefully. (The pant thing and frankly, the hoody thing that often goes with it...)

My mother allowed me to wear the stupid bangs, and I thought she was a decent mom in hindsight (and as a teacher) but I find myself frustrated that parents today let their kids leave the house dressed as they are (or in some cases as undressed). I worry that this makes me a hypocrite. I also know that the stupid bangs did not expose my underwear or any other more intimate part of my anatomy, otherwise my father would have stopped me (maybe even murdered me). So maybe there is a difference.

Sometimes I worry that maybe the problem is there are too few Dad's at home to say "My daughter will not display her underwear to her entire class!" and "I will not allow my daughter to date someone that displays his underwear and can barely keep his pants on publicly," or better still, "No son of mine will dress like that." Maybe parents in general don't care.

Or maybe they are hoping that their children will see the same thing I did when I left high school that the fad stuff only makes sense in high school where nothing else does.

Pantless in the back yard...

Saturday was a crazy day. I got the call at 8:30 AM from my co-worker and friend, Robin, that the talk that we had had the afternoon before in a kind of "possible" tone had become a "reality" and she was bringing her 3 year and 18 month old to spend the day with me while she delt with a wacky family situation.

Not that her family is all that different from mine and several other people's. The point is, her father in law is dying and her mother in law has become paranoid that her children are going to take all that she owns and leave her destitute and so last week she filed charges of trespassing and theft to keep them off her property. Robin and her husband have several vehicles and trailers (which thankfully they had the papers for) on the property and so on Saturday they hired a tow truck to do several shuttles to get all of it off. Not really a place for small children so they spent the day with Nana and me.

The three year old had a slight fever, wouldn't eat anything... Even if he said initially he would, wanted to watch movies that he then wouldn't look at but would scream and cry if I turned off and enjoyed whacking my dog on the head, oh, and is still in diapers. The 18 month old ate everything, ran laps around the van outside and babbled incoherently, constantly. They were both angels. Seriously. For kids their age they were very well behaved and showed all the ear marks of productive adults. Nana on the other hand, was really, well, let's just say she was Nanaism at her best that day.

I took the children out to play and told Nana to go to the bathroom while we were outside so she could have a little privacy. Then I asked her to come out and spell me for a few minutes so I could have the same luxury. Nana came out in her sweater, her hat, her coat, her cain, her shoes and socks and (drum roll please...) NO PANTS!!!!! I mean she had on underwear, bright blue as a matter of fact, but no pants. When I mentioned it to her. She insisted she had pants on. I went ahead and ran to the bathroom (with the fence and the position of our yard, no one could see her) and then came back where we argued about it for ten minute.

"Nana where are your pants?"
"I have pants on."
"No, Nana, no pants."
"Then what is holding on my Depends Pad?"
"Your panties. Where are your pants?"
"Well I thought you had to go potty and so I didn't have time to get new ones on."
"You came outside without your pants on!"
"The children won't remember and I'm still decent."
"Okay."
"Would you go put a shirt on over that tank top, you are obscene."
"This from the pantless woman in the back yard."

Later as the children were napping, she looked over at me and smiled.

"Aren't they precious?"
"Yeah, active, but cute."
"When did kids today get so smart?"
"Kid's today?"
"You and your brother were never as smart as these two. Are all kids like this?"
"Yeah, Nana. My brother and I were just stupid. That's why we both have master's degrees and are pursuing PhD's."

Truly, some of the more memorable Nana moments this year. When the kids went home, Nana hugged me and said,

"I know I said I wanted you to get married, but I'm glad you are not. It's nice to have you here all to myself. I can't ever leave you." Which is wonderful, terrifying and sweet all at the same time to hear.

We had the angels for 12 hours. It was a lot of fun. However, I was glad to give them back. Apparently Robin's odd family has nothing on mine. I figure now Robing owes me a day of seniorsitting. I'll send Nana with two pairs of pants.

Living in Egypt

Denial is a powerful thing. It is also a very damaging and dangerous thing in education. Not necessarily just to the person in denial. Let me give you an example.

This year I have a student who is qualified as Special Education Service. However he also tests very high on academic aptitude tests, supposedly. According to his mother, who happens to be a doctor his official diagnosis is simply ADHD (that amazing catch all responsibility releaser of parents everywhere!... It is a genuine condition, but not to the degree and scope that people "use" it, and with few exceptions, definitely not something that should be medicated.) Having taught the kid and being in education for a while now, I'm pretty confident the kid at least is mildly autistic or possible a juvenile manic depressive. However, mother has told me and everyone else with this opinion (including other specialists, teachers, psychiatrists and physicians) is wrong and her son is brilliant and capable, he just needs a few "modifications" to augment an accelerated education program. Okay. This child does not get along with much of anybody, refuses to do homework on any kind of regular basis, often does not follow directions and is narcissistic to the point of classroom disruption. He is taking some mild medications for ADHD which do seem to help slightly. His mother has stated on several occasions that she is in charge of his medication. Whether she (as a physician) is actually prescribing her son's treatment or if she tells a college what to write for her this is completely medically unethical and only serves to prevent her son from getting the proper treatment and prevents us from teaching him effectively.

Today things got even better. Her son is in the lower majority math class. He has registered for next years' math classes. She e-mailed today to ask if he could be in the higher math as he is doing so well in his current class. This would be an excellerated honors program where students do two years of work in only one. It requires a lot of personal discipline, organization and the ability to take correction. She says he wants to take calculus eventually and go to Georgia Tech (Good luck, kid. No IEP's there and professor's aren't interested in your mother's opinion ... or even yours for that matter... in terms of what you can do, only what you actually do on your own, on time, correctly...). Now up to this point the denial is annoying, but not a problem. We can put him this class that she is deamnding and when he fails he's go back to the regular program. It might cost him an extra year of high school, but he's so socially immature it might be a good thing for him. The problem comes with the next half. The letter goes on to ask if seeing as so many of the kids in the math class her son is in are failing (typical of lower level math classes because that's where many underachievers and remedial students end up... Hence the lower math...) is it likely that her son's math teacher is simply a bad teacher. Further, said math teacher is a coach and doesn't that indicate a poor teacher to begin with? Now, I am neither a coach nor a math teacher, but I find this whole line of reasoning insulting. Her denial is now not only holding her own son back, it is being used to insult and degrade an excellent and dedicated teacher as well as a whole group of people (those who coach and teach). This woman even went so far as to suggest that she may call the school board and have this teacher "evaluated."

I can't wait for her kid to go to college. In three more years (or at this rate 4 or 5)!

My mom used to say that a person can fool themselves into thinking that a cow is a human as long as they want to. They may even find a few places that allow them to live as though it was true, but eventually they are going to run across a butcher and that's just the way it is. Several years ago I had a mother tell me that regardless of the evidence presented she did not believe her child was a thief and she would not accept any punishment of her child for that crime. I thought to myself, how nice for her, though I doubt that any judge, local or federal, will take her opinion into account before handing down a verdict or sentencing her child to prison for burglary. Further with her backing of the child, he is likely to remain unchanged in his ways until that interaction with the US legal system occurs. I feel sorry for whoever he will rob (and/or maim, injury or kill in the process). They will pay for that mother's denial.

I hope a teacher at my school doesn't end up paying for this mother's denial. The son may already be a lost cause.

To Relax...

I am planning a vacation. While this is not the first time, if it is actually accomplished (which it darn well better be!) it will be the first time I have pulled this off myself to any level of skill. I mean, travel a lot, visit family, go to conferences, but actual rompin' stompin' vacations are few and far between and until this one were always driven by my Dad. He took my family to Yosemite when we were in high school, on a cruise in college and London my fourth year as a teacher. Since then I have attempted to plan my own "vacations."

A dear friend of mine and I were going to go to London for a week in November. Cancelled in September for occupational conflict. We were going to go on a Cruise, I cancelled to facilitate surgery I never had. I did visit in Miami and it was nice, wonderful, but it wasn't the "vacation" I had dreamed I would take when I became an adult.

I always planned to travel the world. Go to London, Greece, Japan, Chile and all that stuff. I wanted to go on cruises, see fine restaurants, the pyramids and have brushes with greatness. Life is never that simple though. I mean still plan to travel, but there is this whole occupational mess and even worse, financing to deal with.

But this is the year. I am going on a cruise to Central America and the Caribbean. I am even going with a friend, though different than the originally planned companion. This is where things get complicated.

He's a boy. Now by modern society standards, as we are both well past the age of consent this is of no consequence to anyone else, but in my world this is a bit odd. Then again I live on a mountain with 800 boys all summer each year and no big, right? Friend and I are just friends, no possibility of anything else and we both have similar religious and moral beliefs, but figure we can change clothes in the bathroom. I figured my very conservative Dad would go apoplectic. No. "Have a good time, tell him I said hi!" Should I be insulted that Dad assumed no seduction? Or worse that friend could handle it if I made the pass? Not going down that rabbit hole today!

Anyway. It's 11 days. We get to see Mayan ruins and I have it on good authority there are no plays I have to direct. What will I do with myself? This will be so nice, simple, not complicated.

Then friend calls. "Make sure you bring one nice dress." he says. "you mean like cocktail or what?" "Nice." he says. Okay. Now I am obsessing about clothes. Which means I am also obsessing about weight. This could get ugly.

Okay, now I have to lose 20 lbs by the time I hit the port in New York or I won't feel good about myself on the cruise. Terrific.

Worse, friend is in the Air Force. A Dentist, actually. He told me to call him to confirm itinerary and to leave a message at office. He laughed and said I could say I was a Colonel. I laughed and explained that as a Navy Brat who bleeds blue and gold I would rather have my teeth pulled out with dull salad tongs. So when I called I said I was Lt. Cmdr. His office mates ambushed him.

"Why is some Navy chick calling you to confirm completion?"
"It was a joke about the rank, just a friend."
"Is this a date?"
"No, just the girl I'm going on an 11 day cruise with."

I have never met these people he works with, never will and now I obsess over what or who they think I am.

Gracious! I need a vacation! Oh wait, that always gets complicated....

Don't Drink the Water...

My life, lately, has become full of pregnant people. This is actually a rather disturbing trend, really. All these women who work with me, go to church with me and e-mail me want to tell me all about, or have me feel or have me come to a shower for their baby. Just to sum up work...

Robin: She's my team teacher. Wonderful lady and great friend. This is her third. She tried to keep it a secret, actually, from everybody. Other than her husband and her doctor I was the first to know, and only cause I guessed. There are still many who don't know, including her parents and parents in law. The baby is due in July. She is already showing and people still haven't figured it out. It's kind of funny. The only thing is that since she got pregnant I haven't felt right. Seriously, my migraines are worse and the other day I got nauseous. I mean I KNOW I am not pregnant (Jesus already being born and all) so I have to say that this is totally not fair. If I'm going to have to feel like this I should at least get a baby when it's all over. Then I could quit dieting and feel good about gaining weight!

Hillary: She is my co-producer on 9th grade drama. This is her first. She's friends with Robin too, but hasn't figured Robin's secret out which is funny seeing as they have very close due dates. She is going to kill Robin for keeping it quiet so long and then she is going to kill me for knowing before her. Robin doesn't want her to know because she doesn't want to hear the "Oh! We get to be pregnant together!" speech... Not that I blame her.

Karen: She is my administrator and this is her second. She thinks Hillary is cute and Robin is crazy. Of course she's further along then both and keeps having to leave school for appointments and such. Having a pregnant administrator sucks. Worse, she occasionally cries. This is not a good quality in an assistant principal. It makes for strange parent teacher conferences.

There are others, but those are just some examples. Worse they are all my age and so a big part of me is jealous. Though, Nana and the dogs are plenty and I think kids ought to have two parents and well, now's just not a good time. I told my Dad that if I wanted to spend more time with my mother all I had to do was get pregnant and she'd move here. He laughed and said "She's get there just in time for the funeral. Don't even think about it." Isn't he funny? Even if I was married it would be hard for him. I mean I'm his little girl and 12 year olds shouldn't have children... (He says when I turn 45 he'll start thinking of me at 16.)

Either way, for now, especially at school, bottled water all the way...