Monthly Archives: October 2004

Attrition

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Y’all know how much I’ve been not enjoying this year. You also know my Plan, and you know that it depresses the hell out of me that first report cards haven’t even gone home yet and I am THIS disenchanted.
Turns out, I’m not the only one.

At this point, it appears that half of our 6 person middle school team is making Other Plans for next year. You know mine, but I’ve heard on the sly about two other teacher’s plans, and it makes me feel like I’m not really crazy. A big issue in teaching is the attrition rate of new teachers. From what I’m hearing, the teachers who are looking at Other Plans have 5 years or less of teaching under their belts, the infamous new teacher ship-jump is about to happen.

I spent the morning in an assembly with a stunt biker. The kids loved it. One of his things was to talk about thanking teachers, how his 4th grade teacher was so influential on his life, and he never realized until it was too late. He asked for teacher volunteers, and Mrs. W, my original supervising teacher, was chosen. Then, Mrs. W was asked to pick another teacher. I knew it was coming: she pointed right at me. Ooohhhh-kaaayy.

When we got to the floor, we were made to lie on our backs side by side in the center of the gym. He had the kids scream “THANK YOU!” as he raced up the court, and as they finished, he jumped over us. Here I am, so pissed off (my kids were atrocious while I was at the conference) and annoyed and READY to be DONE, and I’m lying next to my first mentor teacher in front of the whole school, getting JUMPED OVER.

At break, after, I said to the Other Math teacher, “You know, I thought, for a minute, ‘one wrong move and I’m done for the year, paid.” She said, “All I could think was, ‘Oh! I hope she’s pregnant [she knows I’m in the 2WW, got her second through Clomid, etc] because then she can tell her kid that they got jumped over when they were just a little bean!” Aww. I’m a SUCKER for stuff like that.

So, yeah. Need a job next fall? I can probably hook you up. Now, if only someone would come rescue me today.

Update on The Experiment

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First, unrelated, emma helped me come up with a name for my photo endeavors: Snappity Graphics. Whee! You heard it here first, folks.

Well then, on to the update.

I took another OPK this am, and still got a quick — if lighter — second line. Not sure what it means, but at the VERY least, I feel good about the fact that I ovulate… and maybe I’ve been ovulating later than I thought. If the fat lady sings this month, I’ll order another slew of tests and start taking them later in the month. Either way, I’m tracking it all in iCal, and hopefully the information will be useful.

Sigh. I don’t WANNA go to school! But I must, Buh-Bye.

In other news

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As part of my raking epiphany, I’ve taken some of my images and made notecards. I actually used them in class for a selling strategies lesson (Ahem, prep for a stupid assessment that is NOT aligned to our curriculum, so we needed to redirect our “teaching” to prepare kids to be assessed on something we HAVEN’T EVEN COVERED yet, cough). Anyway, I think I’ve come up with a pricing structure that I’m going to market in the teacher’s room first. Lord knows there’s plenty of other teachers looking for a buck in there, alas, Princess House glassware and Avon religious sculpture is NOT my bag. Photography is, though.

So, for my notecards (3×5 size, glossy) I’m going to charge 1.00 each, or 5.00 for a pre-mixed variety pack. I’m going to offer the option of greeting card size at 3.50/each, pre-ordered. Also available by order, 5x7s at 5 bucks, 8x10s at 10, and 11x14s for 20. I’ll also include a little note of “Other sizes available, just ask!” as my images can go up to 20×30. Yay, Olympus.

My mother has already ordered 8 sets of 8 greeting cards, I’m just waiting til Shutterfly has a sale to buy them. And, for her I’ll just buy them at cost, since the camera came from them (as well as so many other things.)

My kids actually loved the pictures; I was really surprised by that. I think it was good for them to see another side of me, too. They didn’t believe that I had taken them at first, and I think a few are still skeptical. Ah well.

***

On the car front, my parents, as I mentioned, just bought a Sienna and were raving about the Matrix. The Matrix looks nice, but the price tag is just uhh, waaaay beyond us. Well, way beyond our future plans, which they don’t know about. We could afford it now, but we don’t WANT a car payment like that because I want to stay home. A shiny car is not worth breaking even for, you know?

Our plan has been to drive the Escort into the ground. As my dad says “That car doesn’t owe you anything.” It doesn’t, its been a great car for 8 years, and the only thing that skeeves me out at this point is the seatbelt issue. There are some funky smells that come out of the vent when I switch from AC to heat when the seasons change, and that check engine light likes to wink hello every now and then, but for what I use the car for, it’s fine.

However — my parents are thinking they will swap out their Subaru for a Matrix. They put a ton of miles on their vehicles, I mean A TON, and they like the Matrix for my mom — she still has cargo room, and AWD, but it’s a little more efficient, and well, newer. When Dave heard that, he said “What will they do with the Subaru?” Ooohhh.

I mentioned to mom that we would buy their Subaru when they decide to go for the Matrix, which isn’t going to be TOO soon, but they were agreeable to that. (I knew they would be; they always get the trade-in value from the dealer, and then offer all of their friends and neighbors that price to buy it, since trade-in is less that what someone would pay. Make sense?) The Subaru would be about 1/4 the price of a new Matrix, but still has all the stuff I want — AWD, station wagon, AND a seatbelt! That it’s high-miles isn’t too daunting, as it would be an around town car, anyway. And, when/if the parents hear there’s a grandkid on the way (they know that the general plan is that I will not teach when I have a kid, they just don’t know how close — knock wood — that time is) they will be more than happy to cut a deal. They get a new car, and their firstborn daughter and unborn grandkid get the luxury of a driver’s side seatbelt.

Man, that would be so cool. And maybe, just maybe, my cards will pay for it! Heh.

Um, Weird.

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Okay, okay. You know how I am. I have seen this topic come up on various message boards I stalk, I mean, lurk, so I googled it. Here’s the best article on using OPKs as HPTs that I could find. Now, this isn’t exactly NEJM, and I don’t think she’s a doctor — most doctor’s don’t use “ya know” in publications. But, it intrigued me, so I figured I’d try it out because I had three OPKs left, and I was bored, and realized I had not peed or taken in fluids in a long time.

Anyway, I just tried it and got two lines, right away. Which could mean many things, or nothing at all. However — I have never gotten such a positive result on an OPK, that quick. Like, “Haven’t even stood up yet” quick.

Possibilities:

–I ovulate later than most/have a short luteal phase? Either way, tomorrow will be GOF-y.
–I am a seed-bearing fruit.
–I have PCOS. (I really, really don’t think I do, as I haven’t seen other symptoms.)
–I at LEAST ovulate, at some point.

Now, I totally, totally have taken this with a big ol’ fat grain of sea salt. But it is something to think about. Or obsess about. Whichever.

Either way? It was really cool to see two lines show up in any fashion, as I’ve never seen them on any stick at all. Whee!

Tick Tock

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I have a song stuck in my head that may or may not be an ACTUAL song… the chorus of this alleged song is: “The way-yay-ting is the har-dest part” and it sounds a little bit like early Billy Joel when it resounds through my head. Having early Billy Joel singing to me in MY OWN HEAD isn’t even as frustrating as NOT. KNOWING.

Another thing I think I’ve invented in my post-ovulation haze is a beverage called “Fertili-Tea.” Does it exist? I don’t know, but I know that it ISN’T available at my local health food store. (Tea Tree oil for the massive zit breakout is, as well as Ginger Peach tea and a fresh bumbleberry tart, mmmm.)

In all of this invented stuff, I have been reading various things on the internet relating to giraffe habitat. No, wait! That’s a lie. I’ve been reaidng about fertility/pregnancy/birth stuff. Goddamnit, you caught me.

One of the things that I keep seeing, that gives me pause is that in the past, women were encouraged to wait until they MISSED TWO (2!) PERIODS before checking in with their doctor to confirm their suspicions. HOLY SWEET LIFTIN’ FUCK. That’s like, 8 weeks. If you’re me, that’s more like NINE weeks, on account of my cycle. It is amazing what we know now.

However, I wonder if it was any easier for our foremothers. I mean, here I am, 7 dpo (or thereabouts) just DYING to know what is happening in the Uterus Hilton RIGHT NOW. Are they partying? Did they hook up? DId they see each other and he promised to call, but instead he withered up and died and now she’s all “Fuck you, S. Perm! Me and my posse of uterine lining are OUTTA HERE!”

Did women before me, though, before all of us, just not even think about it? Is it like the first 2 weeks of a cycle “I can’t worry about it, because I’m definitely not, so I don’t even need to think about it.” Or was it worse, was it scratched into journals as the dreaded “2MW?” Crazy.

Not as crazy as the fact that my left eye has been vibrating for 3 days now, though. That’s crazy. I hope it’s not an Optopic Pregnancy! Oh, wait. I invented that, too.

Wave of Mutilation

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Aaahhh, a middle-level retreat was just what the doctor ordered. I spent the last two days and nights at the mountain, being validated that my ideas are what’s best for kids. If only the school saw it that way. I pinpointed my feelings: I feel just as I did after seeing Fahrenheit 9/11. Yes, the current state of affairs is creepy and wrong and I don’t like it one bit, but I’m not crazy for thinking that. I spent some time talking to the president of the sponsoring organization about my current situation, and she heard that I was discouraged and ready to flee, and kept saying “There is a school out there for you, keep looking. You’re in the wrong place.” Something to think about.

So, I’m home, warm and cozy in my little house with the big yard and the great husband. Some Signs: Physiological behind the cut. that may seem a wee bit TMI.

I did buy the fish-teether on cj’s suggestion, and I slipped it into my coat pocket. You know, I’m really glad I did. Sure, I’m still in the hopeful & optimistic phase of TTC, but to be able to reach into my pocket and feel that little piece of molded plastic is nice. It helps ease my mind, almost. If I start to worry about the nausea I’m feeling, or mentally counting the days until anything could mean anything, I slip my hand in my pocket and almost transfer my thoughts away from my head, and refocus on Everything Else I need to think about. It’s a pocket of hope, of tangibility, that is reassuring. Like a modern day worry stone, or something. I like it.

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Housework

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This is the second Sunday I have spent in my kitchen, making some aromatic treat, and visiting with friends. Only, because I am a huge geek, “visiting with friends” has consisted of having my iBook on the peninsula as I mix and stir and cook and taste. Last week, it was Emma & Jeanne and Oatmeal Scotchies, this week, it’s Emma and Coconut Rice Pudding.

My coteacher is having a housewarming for me, here, the day before Halloween. She felt bad that no one every really acknowledged my wedding, or job, or degree, or house in all the time I’ve been there, so she came up with this. She and some others are doing all of the food, all I have to do is stay home and the party is coming here. It’s pretty cool.

However, the guest list is weird. I don’t want my SILs or MIL or any IL to come, partly because one SIL tried to get my coteacher fired a few years ago, and eww, and if I don’t invite her, I can’t invite the rest. Damn. Heh. But, if it’s not a Family Party, then I’m left with my friends. I have several teachers on the list, because they are my friends now, but when it comes to girlfriends to invite to a housewarming, I’m stumped. I have Jess, who took me to a hockey game last weekend, and who still hasn’t seen my house (three kids are a lot of work!) and would love to come, I’m sure, but that’s it. So, that leaves Jess as my One Friend who knows NOONE ELSE. Amy thinks she might be able to make it, which would be great, because she knows Jess. But it’s not the type of thing that I’d invite, say, Andy, to. And since I haven’t seen Jenne in oh, almost a year, I doubt she’d be interested.

I wish I could invite Emma (“I was about to say, “Have we met? I’m Emma,” and then I remembered, hi, we HAVEN’T!” — Emma, on my perceived level of her California-ism) to the shindig, and all those other Digster-types that have been my friend through all of this stuff, for years. That would be a fun time; Emma could see her carafe in use (it will be used, too!) and Molly could see the Postcard Shrine to Molly on the fridge. Breana would spend most of the time chasing the FatKitty and I would hand off a stash of OPKs to Persephone as she left. It would be cool.

But, it’s not a possibility, so I’m left with the guest list. If Amy can make it, I’m all set. And, of course, I’ve been to plenty of things with/for Jess where I didn’t know anyone, so it’s not that bad of an idea. I’m sure everything will be fine.

Pudding is done, GOF is accomplished, so now, I wait. Sigh. Another long two weeks. I wish I wasn’t as excited for Oprah tomorrow as I am, but it is ALL about BABIES. Two weeks. Two weeks.

Thinking About You

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My MIL is in the hospital with pneumonia, so fall is truly here. When we took her her chair (a whole story in and of itself, that I won’t get into because it’s just petty and frustrating) she was sick, and took a nitroglycerin tablet while we were there. Maybe she needed it, but it’s just “Oh, I didn’t expect to see you for a while … I need my nitro….. but I’m so glad you’re here.” Bugs me.

ANYWAY. MIL is sick, which is one of her two hobbies; the other is doing puzzles. Other than that she doesn’t DO anything. She’s old, sure, but my grandma has ten years on her and decided at 79 to learn how to knit, and joined a “Sip n’ stitch,” where she meets every week with a group of women of all ages to drink wine and knit. She bought a recumbent exercise bike when her knees were done at 78, and she exercises every day. She’s beautiful, and healthy, and has a life. My MIL, though, doesn’t. Her other hobby, after “doing puzzles” and “getting sick” is “giving up basic living activities” like “taking stairs” or “holding a jug of milk.” (Interestingly, this leads to lots of “needing help” and the whole thing is just annoying. And frustrating. And also, life affirming.

Seeing my MIL like that always reminds me to get off my ass and DO SOMETHING. After weeks like this one, ass-getting-off-of isn’t always my first priority, but this morning, I did. I told Dave to wait til I got back to shower, and I pulled on my jeans and a fleece, and my sneakers, and I hit the sidewalk.

I love walking, it’s ridiculous that I don’t do it every day, and I should. I don’t want to end up like my MIL, I want to be strong and healthy like my grandmother, I want to be healthy for my kids. Today, it was beautiful. Not too hot, not too cold. I walked up 15th, cut across to 14th, then 13th. I walked around the back of Mansfield Stadium and I headed to the playing fields between the two schools near my house. The whole time, I was thinking about the future. I stopped at Fairmount to swing.

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