My Strange Addiction (which isn't all that strange)

I have an unhealthy addiction to the internet (says the girl writing on her internet blog).  When I am home alone and bored, I find myself visiting the same sites over and over again: Facebook, Pinterest, Cracked, and Buzzfeed.  Literally for hours.

It started off innocent enough; Pinterest helped me shut off my brain after a long day because I could just stare at pretty pictures as I scrolled down the never-ending page.  Facebook let me stalk my friends and family so that when I saw them next I could ask them what was new and pretend like I had no idea.  Buzzfeed let me look at gifs of puppies and kittens.  Cracked taught me things (mostly useless things, but things).  I was learning and being entertained; life was good.

The tipping point came when I read an article from one of the magazines my church publishes; you can read the article here: https://www.lds.org/liahona/2014/06/media-with-merit?lang=eng&query=media+with+merit

I realized that although I was keeping my brain occupied, I wasn't really doing anything.  I was passively staring at the screen taking in information, and because of that I was wasting hours of time.  So The Man and I sat down the other night and talked about the article and things we could do when we got home that maybe didn't involve the computers (a great one for me right now would be grading, seeing as there's only two days left of school...oh well).  It's weird, because I always thought of myself as an active person until I looked at what I really did during the day.  So I resolved to make a change.

Yesterday I did not visit Pinterest, Cracked, or Buzzfeed at all.  I did check Facebook, but for no more than 10 minutes.  Since I wasn't glued to the screen, I did four loads of laundry (washed, dried, folded, and put away), made dinner (meatloaf, due to a craving), graded some papers, washed all the dishes, picked The Man up from school, got some supplies from the store for school today, and cleaned the microwave.  Which doesn't seem like a lot, but keep in mind this was after 10 hours of being at school, and I'm pregnant.  So, I feel pretty dang accomplished.  I just got home from school half an hour ago, but here's to hoping for another successful day.

I figure that if I talk to you about it, dear interwebs, it will give me more resolve to stay away from useless sites (at least until I can self-regulate my usage).  Want to join me?  Could be fun!  We could whine about our withdrawals together!

Ugly Babies and Heartless Robots

You know what's a scary thought?  Having an ugly child.  I mean, sure, they'll have to grow a better personality because of it and looks aren't SUPPOSED to matter, but let's be honest: looks matter.  And, since I am well-versed in Genetics, I decided to find out if The Man and I would have an ugly baby in the most scientific way possible: one of those face-morph websites.  Stormageddon will 100% without a doubt look like this:

Sadly, those beautiful lips come from his dad, not me.

So that's not too bad.  Our child will at least have a more symmetrical face than his mother (thanks, Hubby!).  I'm going to stick with this website's interpretation of our children instead of the interpretation I made with paint a couple years back:

So scarring...

I really shouldn't care so much about how Stormageddon is going to look though.  Right now I guess I'm just trying to find ways to get myself excited about having a baby.

Weird, right?  I mean, I try to get pregnant for a year, I purposefully take myself off birth control, and then once I get what I wanted I'm just...meh.  This article actually explains how I'm feeling pretty well: http://pregnantfeminist.wordpress.com/2012/02/16/thirteen-weeks-on-being-a-heartless-robot/

I'm so grateful that I was able to get pregnant.  I am relieved beyond belief that I've made it this far without a miscarriage.  I REALLY want to have a child with The Man, but that's the thing: I want a child, not a baby.

I've never really been that into human babies.  Growing up I was more excited about getting stuffed animals and taking care of them than I was about baby dolls.  And it wasn't due to lack of exposure; remember, I come from a family of nine kids.  There was always a baby in the house.  I've changed diapers, helped with bathtime, dressed babies in their annoying onesies, watched them learn to walk and crawl...I just wasn't all that impressed.  

I mean, for the first couple months they can't really interact with you besides crying when they need something.  After that they start to get squirmy, but once you put them down they start crying.  After that comes teething.  After that comes throwing and hitting.  Plus most babies take about 6 months before they even start looking cute.

Baby brother at 4 months (left), and holding his nephew earlier this year (right).
Took him a bit, but he got cute.

There have been a few moments that I've gotten excited about having an infant.  One was when I remembered what it was like cuddling with my youngest brother (seen above).  I used to come home from school and Mum would hand him off and I'd go sit on the couch with him.  He always fell right asleep (thanks, boobs!).  So snuggling is a good thing to dwell on.  The other moment came VERY briefly when my coworkers gave me a present: some baby pajamas and a pack of newborn diapers.  For a moment I imagined a tiny little baby in a tiny little diaper and the mothering instinct way down deep inside of me gave a little squee...then it was gone.  And...that's about it.  I'm not one to get overly excited about tiny baby clothes or diaper bags or strollers (those rocking chairs though?  Heck yeah!), so I haven't really had those moments shopping where I just swell in excitement.

I don't feel as bad about it because I've brought it up when talking to The Man, and he's been feeling the same way.  He's excited to have a child as well, but right now the whole thing is just surreal.  I just feel bad though, because when people find out I'm pregnant one of their first questions is always, "are you SO excited?"  And I usually give a half-hearted, "yeah, I guess."  Can I blame my apathy on pregnancy hormones?  Let's blame it on that.

The Perfection of Imperfection

For some reason Stormageddon has decided that it's not going to let me sleep comfortably anymore, even though I'm not that far along and my belly isn't that big.  Due to that inconvenience, I have a lot of time to think in bed now.  Tonight I was thinking about my family.

My family has seen some trials.  These people that I love have dealt with divorces, drug addictions, alcohol abuse, jail time, houses burning down, the mistreatment that can come with homosexuality, and much more.  They are truly incredible.  And it's going to sound cruel of me to say this, but I am so glad that I've been able to see my family struggle.

For one, their struggles have taught me what it means to be strong.  I have seen (or heard about) how my family members have reacted in the face of trials, and it is beyond impressive.  Whatever the problem, my relatives seem to be able to face it head-on and kick its butt.  They don't whine and cry and mope about, they deal with the situation and get on with life.  I'm so impressed by them.

Their struggles have also taught me compassion.  I can't say that all drug addicts are stupid and useless because someone I love has had that exact struggle.  I can't say that every divorcee just didn't try enough in their marriage because I've seen how hard they try to keep things together.  I can't say that everyone below the middle class is just lazy and not trying hard enough because I have family members in that category, and they work harder than most people I know.  My family's struggles have taught me that every situation is unique, every person has someone who loves them, and judgmentally stereotyping is totally unfair.

I am so grateful for my imperfect family.  I'm grateful for their examples, for their acceptance, and for their love.  They may not be perfect, but I wouldn't have them any other way.

Hey! Teacher! Leave those kids alone!

So, this thing happened.

I was all set to teach part-time in the fall.  I had maternity leave all set up, we'd discussed pay rates, my little sister created a school schedule so she could watch Stormageddon in the mornings; everything was in the works.  Even though I had it all set up though, I was super conflicted.  I mean, could I honestly grade at home with a newborn?  Would my students suffer because I wouldn't be putting the time in at home?  What about feeding my baby?  (TMI?)

And I was praying about this every night, asking for some confirmation that I was doing the right thing.  Well, I got an answer.  A few days ago my administrator and I sat down and had a talk; the school is growing a LOT next year (like, 70 new kids) and they really need more than a part-time science teacher.  So I was let go.

I didn't expect it to be such a relief.

That afternoon I started looking for jobs (I kinda like the sugar momma feel), and I kept shying away from education jobs.  See, I don't know if I want to be a teacher anymore.

I usually do enjoy teaching.  The kids are really fun and we can have some awesome discussions.  It's just...the parents and the meetings and the grading and the countless hours put in once I've finally gotten home after 10 hours at the school and the early mornings and...I'm tired.  The time in the classroom, actually interacting with the kids?  Phenomenal.  The time at home, feeling beat and stressed and drained?  Not so fun.

Now, I know my friends with kids have to deal with children 24 hours a day, seven days a week, but...it's different.  I am responsible for the academic future, behavioral growth, and mind-stretching of over 100 teenagers.  Half of whom don't want to be there.  At least with your own child there's some type of primal love between you, and when other parents get upset about your parenting style you can just blow them off.  With teaching (especially non-contracted teaching like with my charter), my job is on the line every time a parent gets upset with me.  And I'm kinda done.

And yet a part of me wonders if this is just typical Spotalotamus ennui.  I have this problem of being addicted to change and new experiences.  I like to move.  I like to cut and dye my hair.  I like to run away and roadtrip.  Looking at my past jobs (and past dream jobs), I can't help but wonder if my wanderlust has creeped into the job section of my life as well.  I've been a concessions worker, a data entry monkey, an apartment leasing agent, and a teacher.  And I've seriously considered options like firefighting, zookeeping, massage therapy, cosmetology (go ahead, people that know me; take a minute to laugh at that last one considering my fashion and make-up knowledge), and now...sonography.

I'm keeping all the curricula I've made this year, and I'll be keeping my teaching license up-to-date, but I'm going to try for a new direction.  For the first time since...2009, I'm really excited about my career possibilities for the future.  Bouncing around in my chair, huge smile on my face excited.  I may fall flat on my perfectly sculpted bum, but I'm going to try.  I've already applied to a few hospitals for some experience (volunteer; no way am I qualified for the other stuff) and I'll be taking a medical terminology course online (the only pre-req for schooling I haven't met).  Stormageddon may have other ideas when it gets here, but I'm going to ignore the fact that I'm pregnant and just chase this dream for a bit.