I’ve decided I’m not knocked up this month. My boobs aren’t hurting as much, and I still feel like ass, but tonight my fingers are freezing and my face is hot, and neither of those are PMS symptoms, but they might be symptoms of general illness, so, yeah. I’ve decided that this isn’t the month.

I want it to be, though. Every month, I want it to be. Wait, no, WE want it to be. Dave has his own 2WW, I think. It’s always late in the month when he starts rubbing my belly, curling up around me and putting his hand right on my skin, just below my navel. He doesn’t say anything, but it’s an unspoken statement.

(Of course, it looks like I DID ovulate late; hope springs eternal.)

On work: today we had an early release day to work on scoring the aforementioned asinine assessments. We had 7 for middle school to get through. We finished ONE. So, now, the rest of them go back into the locked cabinet until Who Know When, and I’ve STILL lost a week (so far!) of the math curriculum. Sigh.

A colleague spent the morning at a laptop meeting, and was back in time for our Middle School Morale-Boosting Potluck (every non-payday Friday the two programs switch off making lunch for all of us, ; itwas my program’s week– corn chowder, salad, bread, and cupcakes) and he said “Hey, I tried to get you a job today!” I think I may have been a little *too* eager when I said “WHERE! DOING WHAT?!” He was very nonspecific (I’m not even sure he knew what he meant by that) but then we had a conversation about technology, etc, that reminded me I need a) out and b) FT grad school. My inbox at home had a reply form my advisor letting me know that the ed building’s lab will need an assistant next year, and she strongly encouraged me to apply. So, there are forms I need to get and fill out, and we’ll see what happens.

I am so. tired.

Today, in addition to school, I had detention duty, a technology presentation to this semester’s crop of student teachers, and then a night spent doing childcare while our curriculum coordinator and assessment team held an informational night about assessments. (Our LAS is absolutely asinine, and is part of the reason good teachers are fleeing the business.)

The childcare was fine. As NJHS advisor, I was there with some of my advisees to help with the childcare. Two other adults(parents who own a daycare) were also there, but there were still a lot of kids.

One little guy, pacifier in mouth, started to break down. I took his hand and we walked up and down the lower school hallway. I talked to other parents as I did, and several thought he was mine. “Oh, no, I don’t have children.” ‘Yet,’ I think. ‘I’m just waiting.’

I survived the wee ones (I am SUCH a middle school teacher) and came home. I’m irrationally unhappy that King of Queens is not on (I’m assuming because of the Sox game — 6-0, go Sox!) and I am exhausted. My tits still hurt, my whole chin region is a mess (I can feel a zit under the surface on the outside-left, and a canker under the surfeace on the inside-right) and I am doing whatever I can to wait to test on Saturday.

I wanted to write about how my student teaching advisor wants to meet with me to talk about what my plans are (I gave her the hush-hush news that I’m thinking of jumping ship and she is sort of upset about that “But, you are SUCH a good teacher, Gretchen….”) and how one of my kids gave me this weird compliment like thing, but I’m too damn tired to write anything. And I can’t even get my Kevin James fix.

G’night. YAWN.

Definitely tired. Deeefffiinnniitteellllyy Tired.

Today was spent tossing back tea in an attempt to beat the fatigue, to no avail. Well, I guess there was some avail as I didn’t drop dead in front of my class, but the tiredness persists.

Also, definitely some painful breasts. Right now, they feel hot and big, if that makes any sense. (Oh, if I hadn’t blocked googling of my site, that would have brought in SO many hits.)

The Plan is to pee on that last OPK as part of the experiment. Either way, I’m going to try to not get too excited in either direction, but I figure what good is ONE OPK anyway. If the Fat Lady sings, I’ll be ordering more and OPK testing later, as a result of that weird positive over the weekend. Then, depending on how I feel, I’ll try to wait until Friday/Saturday to test.

I have three HPTs left from my cheapie internet order, and the my rationale is that if I need to order OPKs, I will also order HPTs, since the best deal is a combo pack, so there’s no harm in using what I already have, especially since they were so cheap, and since run-on sentences may also be a sign of pregnancy, no? 😉

Tonight, I was talking to Dave about how kb wants to order some of my work, and I said “She’s pregnant, too” and Dave was all “WHAT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN, TOO? Are you trying to TELL ME SOMETHING?” I rolled my eyes at him, and insisted that if I were knocked up I wouldn’t drop it into conversation an hour after he got home. Duh. However, it does make me smile that even Dave is hypersensitive to All Things Pregnancy.

Today, when I got home and checked the mail, there was a package from Gerber Baby. It was addressed to the previous owners or current resident, and, as I mentioned, they DID just have a baby and were expecting when they lived here. But, it gave me a little electric shock to see “WELCOME TO MOTHERHOOD!” peeking out of my mailbox.

I was telling Amy (who has been a saint in all this, seriously, you guys only get about 10 percent of my Baby Mania) about how I had these 6th sense predictions about her first son, and her brother’s as-yet-unborn daughter, and I try to get a read on my own future children and I run into a brick wall. With my other “visions,” it was specific, and instant, and I can remember where I was when I had them, and there was no reason at all for me to have them — not like “oh, they’ve been trying, so it’s on my mind” (actually, I had one with Jess and the twins, too) but random, specific thoughts that are quickly proven right. For me, I have no idea.

For example:

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On a rare weeknight run to the grocery store, we saw the previous owner of our house carting around his newborn baby. The crying didn’t even faze me. BABY!!! (So we know the house isn’t opposed to reproduction, anyway.)