A Glut on My Gut

The news is out: I got knocked up.

If you're a dedicated reader, first of all, kudos to you for remaining dedicated.  I mean, I haven't posted in months.  If you still check this page you're incredible.  Or crazy.  Second of all, you know that I struggled with getting pregnant for about a year and then just decided to give up for a while.  The Man and I decided early this year that we'd try to get pregnant by October so I could have my baby in the summer (yay for teaching making maternity leave so hellish!), and since it took so long last time we thought we'd be safe trying in January.  Two weeks later I was pregnant.  So...that was unexpected.

Due to my background of trying and failing to get pregnant, I'm going to try my hardest to limit how much I talk about it on Facebook; I know how much it hurts reading those posts.  However, this post is for everyone who wants to know everything about my pregnancy so far (which isn't much), so consider yourself warned.

Um, I guess I'll start at the beginning.  Well...how about a couple of weeks after the beginning.  I don't want you scarred for life.

My brother got married on Valentine's Day this year, and The Man and I drove up to attend (with lil' sis in tow).  That whole weekend I just felt...fat.  Everyone I've talked to has said something like, "oh, my first symptom was my incredible sense of smell!"  or "oh my goodness my boobs started hurting out of nowhere!"  Not me.  Just fatness.  And a brief memory of smelling someone's bad breath from across the kitchen.  On the drive back home from the wedding The Man and I talked about the possibility of me getting a motorbike this summer, but since I had missed a period (pretty par for the course for me) he said that we'd wait to decide until I took a test.  If I was preggo, no bike-o.  After that conversation a tiny bit of me hoped I wasn't pregnant.

I took a test on Monday, and the second line showed up immediately.  No "waiting 2 minutes" crap.  I nervously laughed to myself, then called The Man over:
"So...I'm definitely pregnant."
"Oh..."
I've lived with this guy long enough you'd think I would have expected the look of terror and lack of excitement, but I was still a little upset.  To be fair, I probably had the same look on my face.

Now, don't get me wrong, we WANT a baby.  Getting pregnant so soon just...changed things.  Suddenly we realized that I probably wouldn't get another year of full-time work in to make bills easier.  Suddenly The Man would be a dad before he graduated college.  Suddenly I would be going into the labor in the middle of his midterms.  Suddenly life was real.  And it was scary.

We decided to call the baby Stormageddon, because we're nerds.

A week went by without us telling anyone.  Then I went to visit a good friend.  This was the friend that I always talked to when I was struggling with not having a baby, because she was going through the same crap (and she went through it longer than I did).  She kept asking what was new in life and I kept biting my tongue until she let it slip that she wouldn't be able to go hot-tubbing in the summer and then had to admit to me that she was pregnant and she'd been really scared to tell me because of our history.  So of course I admitted that I was pregnant too; we're two weeks apart.  It's been awesome having someone to confide in/commiserate with from so early on.

The rest of my pregnancy has all been the same: constant nausea, some heartburn, food aversions (like...all food), and exhaustion.  I've thrown up in the middle of teaching four times now; I kind of feel hardcore when I puke in the middle of a lecture and then continue on like nothing happened.  I've thrown up quite a bit in the mornings (brushing teeth is the worst), and a few times in the afternoons.  I guess the throwing up is the weirdest part for me.  I mean, before my first puke of pregnancy (chocolate milk, yum!) I hadn't thrown up in...6 years.  I forgot about the noises you make.  And the snot.  And the watery eyes.  So weird.

Smells are also stupid now.  The Man bought some meatballs (because I specifically asked for them) and it turns out I can't stand the smell.  The faculty room during lunch makes me gag a bit.  Even going to the produce section of the grocery store can make me queasy; I have no idea how I teach hordes of unhygienic teenagers every day.

We've now seen the baby (it looked like a grey jellybean) and heard its heartbeat (sounded swishier than I expected), and I'm out of the first trimester (for those of you who aren't good at math, I'm due at the end of October). No weight gain, no maternity clothes, and nobody but me has noticed that I'm getting "micker around the thiddle*."  I'm still planning on teaching next school year, but I'm dropping down to part-time.

Any unanswered questions?  I think I got it all...

*Runny Babbit, by Shel Silverstein

Pain Is Weakness

I really hate the phrase "pain is weakness leaving the body," because it's just not true.  Pain is your body's weakness crying out in stress saying, "I really am struggling with coping right now!"  Pain isn't weakness leaving; it's weakness asserting itself.

For an example, let's talk about lifting weights.  When you lift weights (or do any exercise meant to make you stronger) you aren't just making thicker muscle cells.  You are literally ripping your muscle cells (tiny rips, but still rips) when you work out, then letting them heal over.  Everyone used to think that the pain you felt after a workout was your lactic acid buildup after anaerobic respiration, but the more we learn about lactic acid, the more we doubt that.  See, lactic acid is awesome.  It builds up, yeah, but as soon as you start getting enough oxygen again it will turn back into pyruvate, which we can put through aerobic respiration to get some sweet, sweet adenosine triphosphate (molecular energy, if you will).  Tears can't transform and be recycled; tears just hurt for a bit until they heal over.  Hence the days of pain after especially hard workouts.  So the pain of a workout is not weakness leaving the body, it's your body becoming brutally aware of its weaknesses.

What about the pain of loss?  To keep things light, we'll use a hypothetical situation in which I steal a candy bar that The Man was saving for a hard day.  The pain is not weakness leaving him; it's him realizing that he is weak because he has trouble living without his candy bar.

The pain of being fired?  Realizing that you are weak without an income.  The pain of getting blisters on the bottom of your foot?  Realizing that you are weak because you are not a hobbit.  The pain of hemorrhoids?  Uh...let's stop there.

I also think I don't like that phrase because it implies that weakness is a bad thing and needs to be gotten rid of.  We need to be hard, unfeeling, and apathetic.  I disagree.  I think we need weaknesses.  

I need weaknesses to keep me humble.  Maybe you need weaknesses to keep you kind.  Weaknesses shape us just as much as strengths do.  Now, one could always make the counter-point that some weaknesses should be gotten rid of, like cowardice or greed, and I wholeheartedly agree.  However, not all weaknesses are bad.  Just something to chew on.  Now get the computer out of your mouth.  Gross.

Why I Won't Be Teaching Creationism in My Classroom

Ever since the Bill Nye/Ken Ham debate I've been kind of on edge.

I am a science teacher, and I spent years learning about how the world around us functions.  I am also a Mormon, and I've spent my whole life trying to gain a personal understanding of how God functions.

In about a month I'll begin teaching my students about evolution.  I will give them the evidence scientists have found over the years and I'll encourage them to research the information for themselves.  I will not be teaching creationism.

Even though it confuses me (and frustrates me when they speak out against evolution), I have no problem with people who believe in Creationism.  If you have your facts straight and you still choose to not believe, go on with your bad self.  I don't care.  My problem is when you try to force it into school curriculum.

See, scientists are not content with "I don't know."  One of their biggest goals in life is to better understand how something works; whether it's the transcription and translation of DNA, the reasons behind earthquakes, or how fast a feather will fall, they strive to learn more.  It goes against their nature to say, "this happens because of unknown forces that we can never understand."  If I'm trying to teach my students the nature of science, why would I ever say, "here's the evidence we have, but there's also the option of going back in time before you knew any of this and just saying we have no idea how it works?"

From my experience, that is pretty much what Creationism is.  A whole lot of "I don't know, and I don't care to find out," all because they're okay with keeping the workings of God a mystery.

Isn't that kind of against what God wants for us though?  We read the scriptures and pray in order to better understand the mysteries of God.  The leaders of the LDS church encourage us to go out and get as much education as we can so that we can better understand the mysteries of God.  We're supposed to be hungry for information, not content with a lack of understanding.

On top of that, how would you feel is scientists treated everything that way?  "Oh, cancer.  Yeah, we're not sure how that works.  We're pretty sure it's just a punishment."  "Volcanic eruptions?  There are no signs to prepare you for those.  Nobody knows when God is going to make a volcano erupt."  "Angels fly; I'm pretty sure physics is just a philosophical discussion."  It just doesn't make sense to me.  Creationism is not a science, and it has no place in a science classroom.

And to close, some Avatar:

But Practicing Is Hard!

The Man once had a coworker who asked me the question "if you could do anything - including the stuff you're not talented enough to do right now - what would you want to do with your life?"

I told him I wanted to be a writer, and I meant it.

Writing letters, e-mails, and Facebook updates comes easy to me; it's just the beautiful stuff that is hard.  Every time I try to write something thought-provoking, it comes off as pretentious.  Not even a good pretentious; my words are vapid and fall flat.  I keep thinking that I have these great ideas for stories and then when I try to put the words down it's just...Twilight-esque.  Hard to create a novel on the grey lines of war when the only dialogue you can come up with could have been written by a twelve-year-old.

Or there are those moments of utter clarity when the words seem to flow from my fingertips so beautifully and I write for an hour or so (usually these moments happen when I'm sleep-deprived).  I get so excited about the world I'm creating, and then when I get a few hours of sleep in me I re-read my masterpiece and realize how ridiculous it is.  It's quite...well, I was going to say infuriating but that's not really it.  It's depressing.  I feel this gigantic urge to create, but I don't have the ability.

Then it hit me today; I don't practice writing.  I dabble, but I don't practice.  Barring select individuals, I'm pretty sure all greatness comes with the price of time, humiliation, and frustration until you get that stinking thing right.  I see great writers, great musicians, great artists, and I automatically assume that they just "have it;" I don't know why it never occurred to me that they "have it" due to a shed-load of work put in (heard that on Doctor Who today; decided to start using it.  Not so sure on "squeaky bum time" yet).

So, here's my plan: I'm going to write something every day.  Maybe a short story, maybe a poem, maybe a chapter of a greater plot, but I'm going to be writing.  I'll leave a sample now and maybe put a new one down monthly so I can track my progress.  The following story was from a sleep-deprived moment.

I walked solemnly down the dirt path.  It was dusk; dinner time.  My hand tightly clenched the wooden handle as I tried to push my feelings of guilt aside.  We needed to eat.  There was no other option.

The gate creaked open, causing sparrows in a nearby orchard to take flight.

As I entered the enclosure I could hear it; the sound of tens of quickened hearts thumping softly.  I knelt down and wrapped my hand around one's neck.  "I'm sorry.  I really am."  Its pulse beat faster and faster as I sunk my trowel in the soft earth beside it, pushed down, and lifted the carrot from its ground.  An arrhythmic drumbeat filled my ears, then faded into silence.

The worst part of death isn't the screaming; it's feeling something's heart die in your hands and knowing that you caused it.

*Prompt taken from a student's question: Do plants have hearts?  They don't, but if they did vegetarians would still be safe - yay Soylent!

My Two Cents on Amy Glass

So everyone's all upset over Amy Glass's recent article.

I have friends violently for it and friends violently against it; I'd like to be the person in the middle.

Yup, she hated on mommy bloggers and people that get married young.  Yup, she said some hurtful things.  And...dare I say it...She made some valid points.

We definitely do have a bias when it comes to congratulations and celebrations.  When someone gets married we jump up and down in joy with them, we go to their bridal shower, bachelorette party, wedding, and reception, and we throw gifts their way almost every time.  When someone gets a new job they're really excited about or a promotion that they've been waiting on for years we smile at them, maybe go out for a celebratory dinner, and then forget about it.

I realize that comparing marriage to a job promotion may seem like comparing sprouts to actual food, but here's the plain truth:

Not every woman WANTS to be a mother.  Not every woman WANTS to get married.  Some women truly, honestly, cross-their-hearts-and-hope-to-die LOVE their careers and feel very fulfilled with their choices in life.  And why shouldn't they?  We are individuals.  We are unique.  We have different desires and life goals.  And sometimes we're stupid and we look down on other people for not having the same life goals.  Amy did it to mommies and mommies did it to Amy.  Not cool on either front, but there you have it.

Maybe we should take a different approach.  Maybe instead of hating Ms. Glass for being a career-driven woman, we could put ourselves in her shoes.  How many of you congratulate your female friends with successful jobs?  How many of you tell single women things like, "oh, I can't wait until you have a boyfriend so we can double-date!"  Can you imagine how much that sucks?  I know for a fact that I'm guilty of being a biased congratulator (not a real word, but roll with it).  I'll briefly congratulate friends on promotions or new jobs, but for someone whose big life goal is to be a successful businesswoman to be constantly ignored in favor of puking babies and sickly-sweet engagement photos...It must be terrible.  I totally understand why she would lash out like that.

We need to recognize that it's okay for people to have different goals, and we need to be excited for what they achieve instead of what we think they should be achieving.  I have some amazing friends who are stellar at academia and in the workforce, and I never tell them how impressive they are to me.  I'm kind of grateful to Ms. Glass for reminding me to do so.

A Teacher's Thoughts on Common Core

I teach the Common Core.  I technically teach to the test (but I try to throw some more substance on that core).  No, it's not the best solution, and no, I'm not the biggest fan of national testing, but you know what?  I've decided that at this moment in my life I'm going to push my dislike out of my head.

Yes, I know, the worst things happen when good people do nothing (or whatever that saying is), but here's the thing: the more I hate on common core, the more the hate becomes ingrained in my head.  The more the hate becomes ingrained in my head, the more likely it is to come out when I'm talking to my students.  The more it comes out when I talk to my students, the more likely they will be to decide that school is a waste of time because of stupid legislation and just stop trying.  And I don't want that to happen.

Common Core DOES have good sides.  It can be very helpful for first-time teachers who have no idea what curricula they should be teaching for their classes.  It states very clearly what is expected, what vocab words you should use, when you can stop for testing, and all that jazz.  As a first-time teacher I can attest to the fact that we need all the help we can get.  I flounder sometimes even WITH the common core; I can't imagine what I would be like if I had no skeletal structure to go off of.

I can't attest for the other subjects, but I know that in science, at least, your students are learning a lot of good things.  Common Core asks students to explain answers deeper, defend their arguments, analyze charts and graphs, and search for reliable sources.  It covers everything that I remember learning in high school courses when Common Core was just a pipe dream.

Maybe you're better than me.  Maybe you can fight Common Core in your local government and then turn around to your kid and say that school is awesome and they should keep working hard and trying.  If you're not better than me though...what they hear you say affects them.  Most adolescent opinions are formed from listening to their parents.  If you think they're learning nothing in school THEY will think they're learning nothing in school and they'll tune off.  If you think their math is far too difficult THEY will think their math is too difficult and they'll give up and zone out.  This makes it all the more difficult for teachers like me who are trying our darnest to get students excited about learning.  

So yeah, I'll nod my head in agreement when you start railing on the national standards, but I'd rather not talk about it at all.  I'd rather try my best to be a good teacher, and there is SO much more to being a teacher than knowing your content.

MOAR!!!!

I am a bone fide certified adult, and I have no idea what I want to do with my life.

Growing up I always had this sure plan of what I was going to be: a vet, a firefighter, a massage therapist, a zookeeper, et cetera.  At those times in my life I was 100% sure of my path in life; what I would be doing and how I would get there.  What I wouldn't give to have that clarity now.

See, I followed that path.  I did the college thing and the student teaching thing and I even skipped the difficult public schools and got a job right in a charter school like I wanted (technically still a public school).  I love 2/3 of the subjects I'm teaching, and the third is sometimes fun.  I got married, have an apartment, own a cat that lives in a different state...My path has led down a dang sunny trail.

I'm not sure if it's a trait all humans have or if I'm just a little too wanderlusty, but just like Ariel, I want more.  I get bored when I fall into routines and patterns.  Problem is, I'm not all that sure what "more" is.

Sometimes "more" is a change in scenery.  I have moved...over 10 times in my life (not counting moving back home over school breaks).  I liked moving.  Then again, that was back when I could fit all my belongings in the back of a small sedan.  It's a bit harder to pack up a two-bedroom apartment into a car.  It wasn't even just moving though; I've been known to get bored and arrange spontaneous road trips just to get out of town for a while.  I like exploring - maybe I could pick that up again.  

Sometimes "more" is a new look.  A new haircut, a new jacket, a new outfit; something to make me feel like I've evolved a bit in my style.  As great as it is being dependable and having one personality, I like feeling a little more [professional, punk, stylish, attractive] every once in a while.

Sometimes "more" is new knowledge.  I LOVE reading, and the internet sucks me in so easily when I try to catch up on what's going on in the world around me.  I miss going to classes.  Not being in school, but going to classes and learning something new every single day.  It was awesome.

Sometimes "more" is hobbies.  I dabble in exercising and cooking, and I recently decided to start flexing my musical muscles again.  We'll see how that goes.  Hobbies make me feel special, they give me goals, and they give me confidence in my abilities.  I just need to use them more...

"More" for me is just...change.  My own evolution in the quest to find fulfillment.

I'm not sure I'll ever be satisfied, and I'm not sure that's such a bad thing.  I still find joy in life.  I'm still grateful for the blessings I have.  I just know I can do and be more.

What do you think?  Is it bad to always want more?