Bla bla bla

This being the first week of school I am... my brain is... suffering.

I am not fully prepared.  I do not have rolls for my classes that start tomorrow and I have no idea what we will do for 90 minutes.

I am hoping for that spark that tends to happen while I am in the shower that says, "Hot damn, this is a brilliant idea at the very LAST MINUTE!"

Sometimes the ideas aren't so great.

Oh well.

Ah, I also can't log into my computer and I have no access to the database I need to set up grades or anything else.  Do I want to use the smart board in my room?  Yes.  Can I?  Maybe?

I should really lay out some clothes tonight so I don't have to think about it tomorrow morning, but I'm not sure if I'm capable of matching colors (ever).

I guess I'll just go to bed.

So Tired

School starts next week, which means I have been busy with new teacher orientation and getting my room ready this week.

With a broken elbow (see previous post) - which is the sort of broken where you are supposed to ignore the fact that it is broken, but hurts like hell when I push or pull anything.  Such a joy to have a broken wing when I need to fly. (haha haha haha)

JG has also started daycare.  I get to rip out my heart each morning when I leave her behind, bawling and asking me not to leave.  The daycare staff said that sometimes it takes a child up to two months to adjust.

Two months.

I'm hoping that JG is in the swing of things by next week, and I have high hopes for her since everyone I have talked to says that their kid loves it.  And the parents like it too.

In the future I am sure I will like it as well.

Just not so much right now.


And teaching...

Today I went to a... I can't remember the technical term for it, but I went to a Language Arts class for teachers.  Being in a room full of older women who have taught anywhere from 5-20 years makes me uncomfortable.

Why?  Because they all assume I'm a baby, like an 18-year-old they need to coddle and condescend to.  Like "oh, look at how young she is, she obviously has no idea what she's doing."

I understand that I look much younger than I am (I'm 30, by the way), but when I meet women (and it is alway women) who automatically assume I am naive and uneducated, my skin crawls and I shut down a little.

Outside of the workplace I have no problem letting them know they're wrong, but when it's people I will see and work with again I have learned it's better to roll with the punches rather than to bite.  Eventually they will learn what I know and who I am, and I'll just let them make a fool of themselves for the time being.

The funny thing is that I told my new coworker, "Gail", that the ladies behave that way around me and she didn't believe me, until she witnessed it happen from a friend of hers.  Even more hilarious, she put her friend on the spot so we could clear up the misunderstanding.

I am so happy to get to work with this woman.

And now I need to go write my disclosure statement.  So there.

My Child

JG really loves water.

Like, really loves it.  (Yes, that is the dog's water bowl she is sitting in.)

She's even more than happy to play with the water hose.

She is a funny little bug.

?

Sometimes you've got to get out there and live life and try new things

and sometimes you fall on your face

you know?

Thanks husband.




You should just see my glasses up close, that's the most depressing thing.

Walker, Texas Ranger

Holy crap, my baby is walking.

Walking.

Which, I guess, means I can't technically call her a baby any more, she's a toddler now.  A toddler who demands to be put down in Costco, and doesn't understand when she hears the word no.

"No, JG, there is no way I am letting you walk around - people will run over you and I will have to clean your brains off the concrete."

Because, with me, everything is about JG's brains.

Unfortunately, for me, she did not understand this logic and spiraled into a screaming fit.  In which she screamed the entire time we were in Costco.  

What is my approach when it comes to my child throwing a fit in a public area?  Unfortunately, for the other customers, I just let her.

Look, when it comes to tantrums the first rule is to let them know that their "approach" will not get them what they want.  

Sometimes I will laugh at her (which doesn't improve the situation).  But, mostly I just endure the dagger eyes others throw our way - today it was more along the lines of "please shut your child up so I don't have to listen to what sounds like a goat being gutted."

Anyway, back to my first point.

My child is freaking WALKING.  I really need to get some video, but as you may have deduced, I am not the best mother and have yet to do it.

Mainly because my chin is still dragging on the floor.

Daycare

A couple days ago I called my mom and asked her to go to a daycare open house with me so I could check it out.  I told her that she asks really great questions and that would help a lot, especially since I always freeze up in those types of situations.

I told her the truth, but there was definitely another reason for asking her to come along.  I needed the support of having my mommy there while I checked out the potential place my baby may be going to for 40 hours a week.

It's very freaky.

I know I talked big, saying I can't wait to hand her off to someone else, but as the school year approaches I'm starting to dread it.  Not that I don't get frustrated on a daily basis with caring for my stubborn and brave girl.  Oh.  Man.

But, I'm starting to realize how much time during the week I will not be spending with her.  Forty hours or more.  My mornings will be spent racing to get us both ready to leave the house, making sure I have everything she needs and what I need, and verifying that I have indeed done my hair and put all of my makeup on (because I occasionally forget the mascara).

I do have to look like an adult when I leave the house.

Otherwise I have the potential to look like one of my students.  I'm a 100 lb. waif.  I am smaller than the majority of my students.

It's creepy.

And my nights will be swallowed with dinner, grading, and who knows what else.  I'm just hoping I'm not too busy or distracted to suffocate her with kisses and food.

Anyway.

My mom and I checked out the daycare today and it was awesome, however it will be my plan B if I have to be put on the wait list at another daycare.  The only thing going against it is that it's a bit out of the way in North Salt Lake, but it would only add about 10 minutes to my morning commute.  Which is nothing when I think of how much she liked it there.

We entered the toddler room and JG instantly wanted down so she could mingle and play with toys.  My child was fearless, touching, playing, riding, reading, she was out there and in the middle of it.

All the little boys ran up to her (okay, there were only three boys).  Like, oooh.

JG did not want to leave.

Seriously, it took two attempts to get her out of the room, and even then I had to really hold her the second time.  And outside of the toddler room she walked around (because she is doing a lot of that now) like she owned the place.

If she does go there I am confident she will learn and enjoy herself.  I am just so anxious about being away from her, but I'm not sure if she will miss me.

Maybe that's what worries me?

?

Is being the best of the best really a value?

A New Favorite

I have a new website that I like a lot.  A lot.  I'm not sure how often I will go to visit it, but I really like the message that it sends.

What is that message?

That crafting takes a boatload of time.  Loads.  And what a pain in the ass it is that when you try to sell what you made and buyers poo-poo your prices.

Which is a major reason I don't sell my stuff.  I will trade, or give, but the few experiences I have with trying to sell my toys have been less than pleasant.  My mother is my #1 buyer, if that tells you anything.

The website is just a bunch of videos doing their thing for five minutes.  Five minutes of stitching, piecing, sewing, anything.  Nothing else.  Just crafting.

I like watching how other people do their thing.

I strongly suggest you check it out here.

Urgggh.

I am procrastinating making some birds a friend of mine asked for.  I'm not entirely sure why I'm putting it off, because when I'm done I get to trade them in for some pretty sweet pictures.

I have the birds drawn up, now I just need to make the pattern and do it.

DO IT, DAMMIT!

I am such a wuss.

I keep thinking how I could be folding laundry, as if that is the better way to go.  Laundry is never the better way to go, never let your brain (or loved ones) convince you otherwise.

Okay, I'm going to find a nice podcast and force myself to get started.   And then I may show you some pictures, if, IF, I get off my lazy ass to take any.

Carley

Pass/Fail

Motherhood is all about passing and failing, either your parenting method works, or it doesn't.  This past week Alex and I have had to change some things around, especially since we were failing more than we were comfortable with.

So, how did we do?

First test:  JG's screaming fits.

You may remember reading about me pulling my hair out while JG threw fits, and me being entirely clueless as to what action to take.

So, Alex gets home Tuesday night and JG is still being a terror.  We both stare at her in frustration, and I let her scream while I make dinner and Alex deals with her.  While we're eating dinner, JG is just rambling along around us and Alex gives her a bit of curry off his fork.  She eats it, goes back to her thing, and then comes back for more.  And more, and more.

My child does not eat.  We have been wrestling with this for months, and her doctor emphasized that I should be feeding her more fatty foods, like butter (which she can't have because of the bloody poop it results in).  I have tried to feed her many things, and the majority of the time she simply refuses, which leads to her being more hungry and results in her being severely irritable.

Thus: screaming fits of hungry rage.

Until this breakthrough.  Surprisingly enough, as a one-year-old she is easily distracted and soon gets tired and irritated of sitting in her high chair.  Most of the food on her tray goes to the dogs.  However, if I allow her to go about her business and then take the opportunity to shove food in her mouth as she comes near me, SHE EATS!  And, she eat enough that I am flabbergasted and a bit humiliated that I didn't think of this before.

This is our new routine: I will carry some type of food with me, say hot cereal, and I will offer some to her as she plays and comes near me.  I refuse to chase after her with the food, she does have to wander back over to me to get some, but happily for me she returns to me at regular intervals and eventually eats enough to satisfy my need for her to be stuffed with food at all times (as is the drive in most mothers, commonly labeled as "food pushing").

This morning she ate a bunch of Cheerios, some pancake, and she drank some hypoallergenic formula (we are gradually starting the weaning process) and some Odwalla strawberry superfood.

I give us a PASS on this test, excuse me while I pat myself on the back.


Second test: SLEEP.

As mentioned above JG is easily distracted, and this crosses over to her nap and bed times.  Nursing her to sleep has turned into a process where I just get frustrated and want to lock her in the closet, and in the end she gets what she wants: she gets to stay up with us.

And I don't get the two hours I normally get to spend with my husband at night.

Since Alex didn't see the closet solution working out for us (and probably resulting in child welfare knocking at our door) he deemed it time to put the crib back together.  Because, as odd as it may sound to you, I was nursing her to sleep in her crib, and we had replaced one gate side with a guard rail.  It made it easier for me to get out... and, unfortunately, easier for her to get out as well.

So on Saturday we put JG to bed in her crib and let her cry for five minutes, check on her, and on for 45 minutes until she passed out in the sitting position.  Chin presses against her chest, body leaning forward, and legs sprawled in front of her.  Alex eased her back, calmed her down again, and she was out.

Success?  Time-wise, yes, it's been taking me two hours to get her to sleep, and most of that is spent trying to get her to lay down at all.  Nap time she cries for about 10 minutes, and bed time is more like 40, and listening to her cry feels like razor blades dancing in my skull... but I am relieved not have to fight with her to get her to fall asleep.

I mean, it's still sort of like fighting... but I feel like I'm more on the winning side.  The mean winning side, because it seems a bit unfair.  But, what in life is 100% fair?

Pass or fail?  I think it's a little of both.  I'm not a big fan of letting her cry herself to sleep, but her negotiating skills (yes, google it, toddlers negotiate like crazy) are getting to the point where I want her to know that when I say "bed time" I mean it.

I am, however, still sleeping her her room when she wakes up in the middle of the night.  Why?

When was the last time you woke up at two in the morning and had to comfort someone back to sleep and then go back to your own room and comfort yourself back to sleep?  It's just easier to comfort together.  Plus, this is a weaning process for both of us.  Sadly enough, I sleep better in her room than I do my own, but I am now going to bed in my own room first.

Small steps, man, small steps.

Sleep Fight Club

I say, "Nap."

She says, "No."

I say, "Sleep."

She says, "Why?"

I say, "You've got to be exhausted."

She says, "You've got to be kidding."


And this is usually the point where I start pulling my hair out, big wads of it that you can see tumbling around the wood floors in my house.

Have you ever been around a sleepy and cranky baby?  Compare it to being forced to spend two hours of every day inside a small jail cell where monkeys are encouraged to throw their feces at you.

It may even be more horrible than that.

Not every day is like that... but most days are.  I have to admit that I am still (for the most part) nursing JG to sleep.  Which means I lie beside her and wait for her to fall asleep, sometimes it takes ten minutes, and sometimes an hour or more.

It just depends on how much patience I have.  There are days where it is limitless and I will wait and wait with her until she finally nods off.  Most days, however, I throw up my hands after ten minutes or so (especially if she's fighting me) and leave the room and let her do whatever it is that she does.

She wins the sleep fight about 50% of the time, the other 50% I hold her down and basically force her to fall sleep.  Fighting sleep is pretty tiring.

For both of us.

Fourteen Months

For those of you who read this blog regularly you may have the impression that I don't like being a mother, that I take my daughter for granted, or that I'm just not very good at this whole "mother" thing.

I will blame all of those things on my writing tone, which I have been told (and I agree) is pretty sarcastic...  sometimes dripping with the stuff.  If you ever meet me it may make more sense.

I will say that I am still learning how to be a good mom, but other than that I despise reading mommy blogs where the children do nothing wrong.

My children are perfect!  When they poop it smells like flowers!  I don't know what a tantrum is?

Nonsense mommy bloggers.  Non. Sense.  Therefore, my approach is more realistic, I like to try to be honest, but I do tend to leave out a lot of the awesome stuff, where I am amazed by her and what fills me with adoration.

My baby is fourteen months old today.  FOURTEEN MONTHS!  I am thrilled how much she has grown and developed.  She talks up a thunderstorm, words include, but are not limited to:

1. Mommy
2. Daddy
3. doggy
4. puppy
5. kitty
6. hang on
7. down
8. thank you
9. mama
10. Maggie
11. really
12. hi
13. that one

and more that I can't think of right now.

JG knows what she wants and will get upset if she doesn't get it, however we are figuring out a negotiating process.  She is growing more confident about walking every day.  And she is hilarious and constantly doing the unexpected.  All the time.

Oh man.  Being a mother is such a challenge, but we are working it out together, one stress-filled and love absorbing day at a time.

Tantrum Thrower

Now it may come as a shock to some that I am looking forward to the fall, when I'll start teaching and JG will start going to daycare.  I know many mothers believe it is sacrilege to want to hand your precious one over to other people... but, honestly?  I think it will do me and JG some good to have some time to each other.

I know, be offended now, and get over it.

My daughter is a very opinionated and strong minded being, both traits I am happy to see she has inherited from her family (and reminds me constantly of my grandma).  However, it also means that when she doesn't get what she wants she has the tendency to blow up.  Something I can definitely identify with, since as a child I once told my PE teacher to F-off because running in 100 degree weather was something I simply would not do.

For a long time this just meant she would scream at the top of her lungs while I made dinner and had to leave her on the floor to protect her from the hot surfaces on the stove.  She doesn't care, she hates being ignored, and when she wants to be held she will throw a fit until she gets what she wants.

We've been working on this, with me telling her that I will not pick her up until she stops crying, and for a bit that strategy was working.

However.

However.

This last week there has been a new development.  I'm not sure when she worked out that when she's hurt and crying I scoop her up without asking her to stop.  So.

So.

Last week I watched her throw herself to the floor and scream when I was on the phone with my sister.  One second she was supporting herself without a problem, and then she used all of her kinetic energy to drop like a sack of very small potato's to the kitchen floor.  Her body even made a small thud when it hit the floor.

On Sunday we were watching Ponyo (eh) and JG was trying to play with the house phone and making noises for us to watch her.  Alex and I had our attention focused on the movie, and apparently this really upset her, because Alex watched her bite her arm and then scream like she had just been stabbed with hot pokers.

Tiny hot poker teeth.

How hard can a 14-month-old bite herself?  Well, initially there were teeth marks, by the end of the day they were welts, and two days later she has bruises on her arm.

Can you believe that?!  My child bit herself so hard she bruised.

I bought a book to help me figure out how to help her through this, I read about 50 pages and then lost it.  In my house.  And no, I don't know how I did that or where it is.  With me, if I go looking for it it's almost a 100% guarantee I won't find it.  So.

So.

It is very hard for me to get anything done while she is awake, because if I am not fully engaged with her she can get very mad.  She's not like that all the time, but enough that I have been conditioned to just give her what she wants (when she can actually have it, we do have rules even if she hates them).

So, I am looking forward to getting some time to myself this fall, even if I will have to work my ass off to learn how to be a good teacher.  Oh, man, I am going to be so exhausted.

I'm not entirely sure what to write... I have come up with about a dozen posts and have failed to write any of them... out of laziness?  Performance anxiety?

It's definitely not to say that nothing has been going on.  Hell, my house has been a bubbling pot of activity this past month.  What has gone on?

1. Lost dog (Stella)
2. Found puppy
3. Found dog
4. Amputated what was left of dog's tail
5. Family reunion (many hot days in the sun with people I'm proud to call family)
6. Brought puppy (now called Maggie) home
7. Celebrated the 4th of July with our very own, very illegal fireworks just three blocks from our police station (we were the pre-show and our neighbors loved it)
8. Cared for a sick and grumpy JG (with a 100 degree fever)
9. Pulled my hair out due to insane puppy and dog combo.

This week I am going to try and post something every day, get myself back into the swing of things.

Also, I'm thinking about setting up a lunch this week, and possibly a movie with people who are interested in such things.  However, I must attach a warning as being a SAHM has made me a terrible communicator and entertainer... so it may just seem like you're eating next to a person you're not entirely aware of.  Not to worry though, JG will make sure you're aware of her, she's good at that.

Also, would anyone be interested in a toy/doll making class given by me?

Because this song is awesome

Eclipse

Ok, ladies, who is up for going with me to make copious amounts of fun of Eclipse when it comes out June 30th?

Hmmmmmmm?

Oh, and I got a job.  I will be an English teacher for 7th, 8th, and 9th graders next year.  It sounds both wonderful and excruciating, but I don't think it would be teaching otherwise.

I look forward to hearing from any takers (and believe me, going to these movies simply to point and laugh is a blast).

Braincation

So... three weeks?  That's not pathetic at all for a blog absence.

A lot has been going on, I just haven't taken the time to write about it.  For instance, JG turned one.  ONE! It was a big day for me, mainly because there were days when I told myself, "If I can just make it through this first year..."

Those were the days when JG wouldn't stop crying, I couldn't calm her and I couldn't find any comfort in being a mother.  It was sort of a nightmare and I had trouble imagining why I got pregnant in the first place.

It's not like it took practically two years for me to get pregnant with a viable fetus or anything.

But as the year progressed and we gradually figured out her protein intolerances, we got to know JG.  When she's not having a reaction she's quite a pleasant and funny person.  Lately she's been pointing at my belly button questioningly, and when I tell her what it is she repeats: "elly utton."  The b's are very quiet, she almost has it.

Adorable.

She smiles and laughs easily.  However, she doesn't hesitate to complain, and she's fond of tantrums... we are working on that.

And slowly her guts are allowing her to eat more diverse things, like scrambled eggs, and maybe even cooked dairy (because I accidentally fed her some and she didn't scream-poop and there was no bloody poop either *joy*).

(why yes that is a black eye)

Now that JG has been here for a year, I can honestly say I am the better for it.  I have learned so much.  SO. MUCH.  I am also really thankful that this first year is over, it was one of the hardest years of my life.  

I'm excited to watch her grow, and I hope I can continue to grow with her. 

Potential

I left school today feeling a combination of horrible and horrified.

I have a variety of students in class, from the exceptionally talented and smart, to the... how should I put it? Lazy and dumb?  But, they're not really dumb, just too lazy to do anything about it.

In that mix is a girl, let's call her "Girl Student," who is exceptionally bright, full of "potential."  And, by "potential," I mean that if she just put her back into it she would be a straight A student with colleges panting at her door offering up scholarships.  In my minds eye I see her as a math professor, because I think she could go as far as she wanted to.

However.

Before I say anything, let me emphasize that I like this girl.  Yes, she has mouthed off, and yes she is full of angry energy, and yes she thinks she is a bad-ass, but I like her.  Angry 14-year-olds can grow up to be well rounded and adjusted people, just ask yours truly.

Horrified.

Girl Student came into to class early today, looking all relaxed and happy, which made me happy for her.  Until she stood close to me to complain about being hungry and I inhaled.  What did I smell?  What does the rest of the class smell and keep mentioning/complaining about the rest of the period?

Skunk.

Now, Girl Student claims to not smell this, even though I know it is emanating from her.

Huh? those of you with soapy clean pasts may be asking, while those of us who have slid through the mud and gotten it caught in our teeth sigh "oh."

Let me catch you up.  Girl Student reeked of skunky pot (I don't know if that means it was really good weed, or cheap-ass weed).  I felt a combination of things like, "Yeah, relaxing is great," and "Holy mother my 9th grader is high" and "What do I do?  Who do I tell, if anybody?"

Horrible.

Around this time the original biology teacher comes in, let's call her Mrs. Biology.  She hears the complaints about the skunk and she smells it.  So, feeling a tad cornered with my knowledge I spill the beans to her in the hallway.

I tattletaled like a kindergartner who doesn't know the playground rules yet.  When we went back into the classroom I could see Girl Student looking at me like she knew what I had done... but, what else was there I could do?

I feel a little sick.  Mrs. Biology said she would tell/talk to the counselor, and now it's out of my hands.  I just keep thinking how Girl Student is on such the wrong track, and with each mistake she makes she is losing more and more of her foothold on the future.  Sometimes failures and mistakes are easy to move on from, sometimes they're a boon to learn from, but allowing yourself to treat yourself like shit is well... It's just stupid.

I just want to take Girl Student home and feed her ice cream.  So many angry/hurting/destructive students are lacking healthy home lives.  I feel horrible because Girl Student and I were building a good relationship, where maybe she was beginning to trust me, and I ratted her out for smoking pot.

Hopefully, it's for her own good.

But I don't wanna

Productivity is a thing that comes and goes for me lately.  I either want to or I don't.  The motivation is there or it isn't.

It makes me very moody, mainly because I like getting things done.  The last couple of weeks I've been working on my quilt, and amazingly enough I have the top and bottom done, all I have to do now is lay them out with the batting and baste it all together.

Easy, right?

Except that I am making a queen size quilt and there isn't a queen size space in my house to lay it out and baste it (I want to make sure I get everything even).  Why not do it outside on the  grass?

Because of the freakin' wind, rain, snow, and periodic hail.

Bah!

Unfortunately, I'm a little crazy.  Since I have set my sights on getting the quilt basted (loosely sewn together) it's very difficult for me to move on to something else (like making that doll for the upcoming family reunion my mom asked for).

(I should also mention that there is a folding table at Costco that I have decided I can't live without, and since I don't have it yet it is hard to start making something...  because, having it would make making something so much easier.)  

Usually when I come to this type of creative precipice I throw up my hands and watch yet another episode of Angel on Netflix.  But today, I had Glee recorded and laundry to fold, and in order to allow myself to watch Glee I had to fold the laundry.

Do I sound nuts to you yet?

So, while I was not creatively productive today, I was housewife productive.

And as soon as I buy myself that table, I will be otherwise productive as well.

poop

For those of you thinking about bringing home your very own bundle of joy, I have only one thing to say to you:

You better like poop.

Because as soon as you take that sweet squirming thing home you will have to become fast friends with its poop, there will be lots of it.

And when I say "lots of it" I mean there is going to be more poop than you are accustomed to coming in contact with.  Maybe you've had a dog or cat and they have had the periodic accident in the house, but that is still not comparable to baby.

(I understand that my bundle of joy, when she was tiny, may had produced more poop than normal because of her intolerance, but I stand solid in my opinion.)

Now, when baby poops it is unpredictable in timing and mass.  And aiming.  Say you've just taken baby's diaper off to change it, when BAM! and unexpected spray arches up and over and onto your pants.  Your.  Pants.  Or shorts, or skin, or whatever happens to be in the landing area of the poop.  Because that stuff can fly.

As baby grows up so does her poop.  It goes from a thin goo, to a thicker goo, and eventually to (depending on diet and gut issues) solid poop.  JG's poop differs on a daily basis depending on what decisions/mistakes I've made in what I feed her.  When she goes a day or two without soy in her diet (or mine) she gets some stinky, solid poops.  Okay, well, they are all smelly blobs of disgusting.

I think she prefers to be alone for her solid poops, because she'll wander off to another room and return all stinky.  Like, "Oh, my lord, are toting WMD's around in your pants?!"

Not only do I get to smell her daily gifts (suffocate, more like), but cleaning them up is always a... joy?  I get to find out if a gob of poo will find its way onto my hand, or if the diaper might fly open at the wrong moment and fling poop onto the floor.  Or, maybe the diaper has proven no match and the poo has spread up her back and out the sides onto onesie and pants.

That is always a joy.

What I'm trying to get across here is that in one way or another you will come into contact with your offspring's poop.  It's unavoidable.

Un-a-void-able.

Which is why I always try to make Alex do it.

That's what husbands are for, right?