A Cautionary Trip Down Memory Lane

I know Wells is only five months old and I feel like I have just barely come out of the woods as far as postpartum insanity is concerned, but lately I have had these little inklings--tuggings, if you will--about having another one. It's mainly because I dream of having a little girl named Ramona (in-laws, before you comment, please note that Ramona was my amazing grandmother's name). Ramona Louise?  How adorable is that?  (Louise Plummer is one of my top literary heroes.) But I suppose if my thoughts of having baby #5 were all about names,  I could just get a dog or start a doll collection and use up all the names I love that way. Maybe there's more to it? I'll have to sort through these feelings, but as I do, I'd better take a good look at my past pregnancies lest I forget what it's really like to be pregnant:

Remember how important it is to have a birth plan? Am I ready to go through all that again?

And then there's my pregnant style. (Or lack thereof.) Can I do this again??

How can I ever forget the mood swings and sickness during the first trimester?

And you know the minute I get pregnant I'll have to go live in Taiwan or China, since that has been the case in 2 out of my 4 pregnancies. Plus, I may resemble a beached whale.

I hope I never feel like this again. But alas, I probably will.

Shooh. I could go on. Apparently, I have blogged a lot about being pregnant. Maybe that is a sign that I am a pro and could have a fifth pregnancy in my sleep. I mean, the results of the 40 weeks of torture are well worth it, no?

I refuse to make a decision until Wells sleeps through the night and is one year old. So stay tuned.

I'm Also Thankful

I just read Kacy's gratitude post and it actually made me cry, nude fishnets (which are the best alternative to bare legs or white tights around), Clinique Happy, Ben's compliance, Sam's valor, and all. I loved it! I'm thankful for those things, too.

I'm thankful for friends who invite us over for Thanksgiving dinner and are thoughtful enough to ask what our stance on raisins is.

I'm thankful for all the people who have offered to come our house in the middle of the night if (I ever have this baby) even though they themselves have five children who need them.

I'm thankful for meat and cheese.

I'm thankful for people who give Hickory Farms beef sticks as a baby gift.

And I'm also thankful for midwives who make fun of hynpo-birthing and willingly induce you if you are ready to have a baby. Here's to you, midwife, and my scheduled induction at the hospital on Monday!

Birth Plan

It seems very important to people these days to write up a detailed birth plan. I guess it could be a real disaster if things aren't written down and you forget what your birth music is. I mean, how can you give birth to a baby without a soft lullaby playing in the background??? Also, if you don't write these things down, you might forget to bring your tiara. I'm just saying, like, sometimes if you are in labor and suffering a lot and trying to pack up for the hospital, you might neglect a tiara. You could also forget the fondu fountain, champagne/sparkling cider, or felt banner that says "welcome baby." Better safe than sorry: write it down. Furthermore, if you aren't careful, you could forget to wear your sexy camisole/handmade hospital gown/spaghetti strap body-shaper slip. And THEN what the heck are you going to do? Not wear a--gasp--hospital gown?! What are you, a barbarian?

Of course, this is all assuming you plan to go to the hospital at all. Still, even if you are staying home, you need a plan in place. What if you lose your mind because of the pain, and you neglect to fill the birthing tub in time?? If it's not written down, believe me, your sweetheart may not remember it, and then it might be 106 degrees instead of the usual 98.6! And if you choose not to use a tub, you need to know where you'll be squatting and how your hubby will be positioned to catch the baby. Will you use a stool? Bricks? A bed? How about the kitchen table? This is important stuff.

And forget about scheduling childcare if you have other children--have you booked that professional photographer yet? And if he is busy, do you have another one lined up as a back-up? And have you written out a list of photos you want? What is your policy on crotch-shots? How many photos of yourself in agonizing pain will be sufficient, and how many are too many? If you don't know this yet, you need to figure it out, because this is the stuff that matters. Who will write down the play-by-play so you can blog about it later? Who will make sure you have makeup and hair done for all the after-the-delivery photos?

I guess I can see why people need to have such clearly-articulated birth plans. Otherwise, how can you possibly make it the experience you want it to be--i.e., one that is totally all about you?

I'd better get cracking right now. The last thing I want is to be lying in a hospital bed, pain free, comfortable, wearing a hospital gown, with an IV sticking out of my hand, and surrounded by medical professionals who know what they are doing!

P.S. do you think a lacy half tee would look okay under a hospital gown, just in case I don't get my own gown sewn in time?

Just Checking In (With Myself)

I was getting so sick of seeing my PhD in Rudeness post all the time. I mean, there is so much more to me than an uncanny ability to point out when other people are being rude. So, I thought I'd just check in.

Am I still pregnant?
check.

Do I wish it were over because I'm super uncomfortable, irritable, and bored with it?
check, check, check, and CHECK.

Did I cut my hair EVEN SHORTER?
check.

Did people comment on my new haircut using the ever-popular back-handed insult "oh, you chopped your hair"?
checkity check check.

Am I taking hypno-birthing classes and preparing for a home birth in a big plastic tub full of tepid water, my husband standing by to catch the baby, nary a medical expert, IV, or epidural in sight?
No.

Am I finding Facebook an easier forum for my drastically reduced insights?
check.

Did I promise my husband I would not buy, sew, or think about getting new curtains for a minimum of two years in order to finally buy some curtains that I like for my living room?
check.

Do the new curtains make me wish I had a new rug?
checko.

Do I try to ease my pregnancy-induced self-pity with lots and lots of shopping ?
check!

Is there a dogsled still sitting in my living room?
check.

Okay. I feel so much better now that I have reconnected with myself. Everything is as it should be. I'll let you know when I have the baby(5 more weeks--bleh). You can count on a full description of the entire gory process. Maybe I'll even do a blog as I labor and deliver. I mean, what's the point of doing it if it doesn't go up on my blog, right? It's like it never happened!

Car-car out.

Pregnant Style

I feel like I am finally getting a handle on my pregnant style this fourth (and probably final) time around. Don't get me wrong, I am no expert, but I asked Katy for her best advice (she is prego, too, and she looks really good), and that set me on path away from "Tweedle-dee-hood" and towards some semblance of style. Here are some things she told me, along with some things I picked up all by myself:

1. Get some maternity t-shirts from Molly Me in black and white. These are inexpensive but they are thick and sturdy and flattering. Wear them in the summer, and put a cardigan over them in the winter. This was my favorite tip from Katy. I love my Molly Me shirts.

2. Get some elastic-waist skirts in several lengths and colors. You'll get a lot of wear out of them while pregnant and afterward. Target has some good options right now.

3. Accessorize. Katy told me this, too. Wear simple clothes in a monochromatic scheme (like a black t-shirt with a black skirt), then add pops of color with jewelry, scarves, and/or shoes. A good place to go for cheap accessories is Forever 21. Some of their necklaces only cost $1.50! It's a good place for trendy pieces and big, chunky necklaces/bracelets that you don't want to spend a fortune on. Also, there are so many inexpensive, cute flat shoes that you have no need to replace your high heels with nurse's shoes for church.

4. Don't confine yourself to maternity clothes. Other people have said this before. This is not big news. But honestly, I have only recently learned to follow this advice. A lot of tunic style shirts can be worn during the first two trimesters and you can also go up a size in regular shirts for part of your pregnancy, too. You can even get away with pants a size or two bigger for the first little while. A lot of dresses in stretchy fabric with an empire waist will work for a long time during your pregnancy. Downeast Outfitters has dresses like this. Maxi dresses are another really good option. These will come in handy post-pregnancy, too, when you don't want maternity clothes but your old clothes don't fit anymore.

5. Pool your resources. Trade maternity clothes with a friend, if you can. I currently have two huge boxes of maternity clothes that are a combination of my own and my friend, Tricia's. Everything that I think is cute and want to wear belongs to Tricia. It's nice to have something new to wear that I didn't have to pay for. And I think she felt the same way when she was pregnant and wore my things.

6. Having said that, don't feel obligated to wear maternity hand-me-downs from well-meaning relatives who were pregnant in 1989. Don't compromise your taste just because you are desperate. This is coming from someone who wore stretchy pants and polyester striped shirts for half of her pregnancy when she was desperate and living in Taiwan.

7. Go to thrift stores. It's so hard when you are between your regular clothes and full-fledged maternity clothes. You need to get some bigger sizes, but who can afford a whole new wardrobe in one or two sizes up? Enter Deseret Industries. This is a good resource for in-between pants and other clothes.

8. Get a good hair cut. I'm not necessarily advocating a short extreme hair cut, but something with a style, something with structure, that is easy to do, will make you feel good about yourself.

9. Pantyhose getting you down? Just wear leggings! I have spent many a Sunday morning crying over nylons that don't work while pregnant (this is not an issue in warmer months, obviously). If only leggings had been in style back then! Now they are back and I plan on wearing them to church every Sunday in October and November. Some people will tell you to try thigh highs or knee highs. I have also spent many Sundays hiding behind a dumpster pulling up thigh highs that kept falling down while Mike acted as lookout (this happened a lot in Taiwan because we had to walk several blocks to church). Knee highs are fine if your dress or skirt is long enough, but if anyone sees the top, and sees your flabby flesh poking out over the top of your knee-high, there goes your street cred!

10. Proportion is important. Basically, if your pants are baggy and full, you would look better with a more fitted top. Alternatively, if you are wearing a flowy top, a slimmer bottom is a good match. Just because you are pregnant doesn't mean you have to wear baggy clothes all over. Slim fitting shirts can be very flattering. You might as well accentuate your belly and try to draw attention away from other parts of your body that are also expanding (I am talking about my own problem with my legs, arms, face, and back side here. Maybe you are lucky enough to not get big in those areas while pregnant). Anyway, don't lose sight of proportion when you are prego.

What are your favorite pregnancy style tips?

Mood Boosters

I wish I had the energy or desire to share this news with creativity and pizazz, but I don't, so here goes:

I've got a 13 week old bun in the oven.

We are super excited and everything. This has actually been sort of a long time coming, with a set-back or two along the way. So this is great news and I should be on cloud nine, right? Unfortunately, the day after I discovered I was pregnant, I plunged into a mild but unpleasant feeling of depression that has been hard to shake. I feel alternately spiritless and guilty for not being happier and more grateful. But, things are starting to look up as I near the end of the first trimester. Plus, I have discovered some real mood boosters to help me:

1. Jimmy Johns BLTs with no mayo. Did you know Jimmy Johns will deliver just one sandwich? I mean, it costs extra, but who cares when the idea of getting in the car and doing the drive through is more than one can handle?

2. Having good food delivered to my door.

3. The sound of birds chirping. I used to hate birds, I think, because they used to fly into my house, come into the basement where my childhood bedroom was, and flap around my head. Also, Juan R. once knocked on my door, and threw a bird into my house when I answered. Shudder....Not to mention "The Birds" by Alfred Hitchcock. But, the sound of birds chirping (safely outside and away from my head) really lifts my spirits.

4. Going outside also lifts my spirits, unless it starts to make me feel guilty and wistful about not planting a garden this year (we will be gone for almost all of August, okay?)

5. Glee. I started watching the first season on a whim the other day and I am hooked. Talk about a show I can't watch with Mike, though! I don't think he could handle the way they burst into song so much. But I love it.

6. Talking to Melissa and other friends/siblings on googletalk all day long.

7. Sitting on the couch all day, staring out the window (or talking on googletalk), and then spontaneously lying on the couch and falling asleep. Basically, I am just really into my couch lately.

8. Cadbury milk chocolate and roasted almond candy bars, blue twin pops, and red powerade.

9. I'd like to say "my children," but actually they do not usually boost my mood, except maybe when they say something funny, or bring me some water, and then go away for a while.

10. Reading blogs, with the following exceptions:
a.blogs written by super moms who talk about how awesome and "crazy busy" they are
b.blogs with self-indulgent "vlogs," and self-indulgent professional photographs of the blogger.
c.blogs with pictures of people's houses that look like the inside of an Anthropologie store
d.blogs that contain graphic birth stories. When did telling your "birth story" in lurid detail become a thing?
e.blogs with really poor grammar, spelling, and sentence structure.
f.blogs about weight loss and exercise.

I guess I am just in a fragile emotional state right now, and these blogs really set me off, man.

We find out the gender on June 30th. The baby is due the week of Thanksgiving, thus dashing my hopes to participate in the Rexburg Turkey Choir. Maybe next year, Turkey Choir!

PS: don't waste money on an "Intelligender" test. You will be sorely tempted (unless you are one of those people who don't want to know the gender until the birth), but please mark my words: you won't learn anything new other than the fact that you are a sucker. Sadly, the fact that I am a sucker wasn't even news to me. So really, I lost $30 and I gained nothing. Don't do it.

And Now it's Time for my 8th Month Pregnancy Rant

This is the time during all my pregnancies when I start to really HATE being pregnant. It's not like I loved it before, or anything. I'm not one of THOSE people. Miracle, shmiracle, I say. Nevertheless, this is the time when it REALLY starts to just get on my NERVES that I am STILL pregnant while the rest of the world enjoys their thinness and fashionable clothing. So, rather than boring you with paragraph after paragraph of angry tirade, I will just give you the

TOP TEN THINGS I HATE RIGHT NOW

10. People who use the term "natural" to describe a labor and delivery sans epidural. Doesn't anybody see that there are degrees of "naturalness"? I mean, to me, UNnatural means that everything was done in a test tube, not that a woman chose to have some pain relief so she could maintain some dignity and have some sanity for when the baby is actually out and in need of constant attention. If "natural" is what you are REALLY after, go squat on some bricks in a red tent, like they did in biblical times. Then make a special badge that says you are better than other women because you did it the hardest way possible. Cause that's what this epidural/non epidural war is really about, isn't it? It's just another way for women to be mean to each other.

9. Ill-fitting maternity pants. I can find good shirts. Good pants elude me. Why is this?

8. The terrible swelling that occurs during the three hour church block. And the feeling that if I were to skip church on the basis of swelling, I would be setting a bad example for my kids.

7. Hearing other people's birth stories in graphic detail and feeling extremely uncomfortable and disgusted by them, only to realize that I will be going through the same thing in approximately 8 weeks.

6. Trying to get a cute, trendy hair cut from a 21-year-old girl and instead getting a haircut that looks like someone took a bite out of the back and having the 21-year-old tell you it is "fine." Like suddenly, because I am fat and a mom, my hair standards are way lower?! "Fine" is good enough because I am a lost cause anyway!? And she didn't say "fine" as in the slang "look at that FINE man!" She said it like "I think it's FINE the way it is." !!!

5. Feeling alternately depressed and guilty for caring so much about my outer appearance. I mean, at the heart of all my sorrows right now is the fact that I feel fat and ugly. When I admit that to myself, I feel terrible for being so vain.

4. Knowing that no matter what name I choose for this baby, I will most assuredly disappoint someone, and I will most assuredly KNOW just how much I have disappointed them, too.

3. The inability to wear high heels (see #5).

2. My enlarged face (see #5).

1. The line in What to Expect When You're Expecting which states that "thighs thickened by overindulgence during pregancy will not automatically return to normal size after the delivery." Thank you, you self-righteous, insensitive, health-food-pushing freak. I think I'll go have a hershey bar.

Some Thoughts

In Smashgfunk style, I would like to share some of my most recent thoughts with you.

1. I have never looked more disgusting in my life. First of all, my hair is like a cross between Mike Teavee's mom's in the first Willy Wonka movie and Florence Henderson's in the later episodes of the Brady Bunch. In a word: MUSHROOM. I would have long since fixed this problem, but after seeing my husband's and son's haircuts, I am completely terrified to get a haircut in Taiwan. So every day I look like Carol Brady. Plus, the only pants that fit me right now are elastic-waisted lounge pants. I wander around our little town wearing black lounge pants and a black sweatshirt and either bright white socks or purple chenille slipper socks that shouldn't be worn with shoes. I am usually muttering to myself and eating grape flavored mentos. Plus, my eyes have been really irritated here so I have to wear my glasses, which are too small for my enlarged face.


2. I am having a second girl. This is lucky because I have so many girl names to choose from. This is also sad because Holden will probably never have a brother who he will be super close to because if I have a fourth child, Holden will probably be at least 8 or 9 years older than he/she. Then again, Holden will have two adoring younger sisters and his own bedroom as he grows up. It's a toss up.

3. I hate my OBGYN because: he wears skin-tight turtlenecks and has long flowing hair, he conducts office visits at a desk, he flies through ultrasounds with a complete lack of ceremony or acknowledgment that it might be a big moment for me, he cares more about the fetus than he does about my pregnancy complaints (he never says "how are you feeling?" he only asks if there are problems, and when I tell him my problems, he interrupts to remind me to monitor fetal movement every day. HELLO!?), and I think people bring him gifts when they visit him because he has TONS of shopping bags piled all around his office. Am I supposed to be giving him gifts too? Oh, and he has about ten different models and posters of the reproductive organs of a woman on display in his office.



4. Holden got his stitches out today, and it hurt a lot more than I told him it would. I guess I don't remember stitch removal being particularly painful. This entire experience has made me a believer in socialized medical care. I know this is a controversial statement and that a lot of people will be enraged at the idea, but I still believe in it and like it. I also believe in/like mini croissants at the hospital bakery and have gone through several dozen this past week.

5. I have finally reached the "Acceptance" phase of living in a foreign country. "Acceptance" comes right after "Would Cut Off Major Limb to Get on Next Plane Home" and right before "Counting Down to Leaving." Perhaps some of you who went on missions may be familiar with these phases, but only those of you who never used the word "awesome" on your mission. There may not be very many of you out there.

6. I am almost caught up on the new season of Lost and have so many questions and so many conflicting feelings (who is better? Sawyer, Jack, Sayid, Charlie? Then there's DESMOND! Who to love the most??). I keep wondering why nobody kills Ben when they have the chance. How many dang times is he going to almost get killed!?

7. Am I NORMALLY this tired when I'm pregnant? Cause I can't remember feeling this tired in a LONG time. My only motivation for getting out of bed at all is the possibility of coercing Holden to go back to the hospital with me for some delicious mini croissants.

8. I have never and will never blog about a beautiful craft I made. I also will never make a beautiful craft. Does this make me a bad person?

9. Hazel has been saying that she misses people recently. "I miss Abby." "I miss Daddy," etc. But in the last couple of days she has been adding the word "much" to the end of the sentence. "I miss Abby much," she tells me. I have never, ever, EVER said that I miss anybody "much." But Janet Jackson has, and we recently heard her song "I Miss U Much." I don't know exactly where we heard it. Was it TGI Fridays? The grocery store? I don't know. All I know is, that HAS to be where Hazel got the idea to say that she misses her daddy "much." Normally I think it is an annoying and babyish thing to say--when Janet Jackson sings it--, but when Hazel says it, it's so freakin cute I can hardly stand it. SHOULD I invest in a Janet Jackson greatest hits CD?

Eating a 1/2 Pound of Chocolate in One Day: A Good Idea for Weight Loss and Self Esteem?

As if the jerks at "What to Expect When You're Expecting" didn't make me feel bad enough when they wrote that "delivery won't make thighs and hips thickened by overindulgence during pregnancy magically disappear," I now find myself plunging into a spiral of shame and lies. And by "spiral of shame and lies" I mean "being too ashamed to tell the truth to the girl in the Old Navy dressing room, so lying that the jeans 'worked out great' when really I had to put them back and get a bigger size."
And then I eat a whole Hershey bar in one day--I HATE when that happens!

Then Holden makes me look like a bad mom when he refuses to pay his tithing to the bishop during tithing settlement. "In a year or two," the bishop told him, "you'll be mature enough to understand what it means to pay tithing." "In a year or two," thought Holden, "I'm moving to Australia." Then, turning to us, the bishop went on: "and in the meantime your parents will teach you about why it's important to pay tithing." Unfortunately, Holden was not the only one who was secretly saying "not bloody likely." (Hehehe, that Mike! He's so rebellious...). To add insult to injury, we were then informed that this kind of thing "has never happened" to our Bishop before. Surely he was joking? I have a hard time believing that there has never been a three year old who didn't want to pay his tithing. That one kid in the ward with the unibrow looks pretty stingy...

Though Holden did finally put his 55 cents into the envelope (after refusing to shake the bishop's hand, even for candy!), he wanted it back immediately when we got home. "I want to throw it away," he yelled. I guess he would rather have thrown it in the trash than contribute to the church. Youch. You have to admit it, though: that boy's got moxy. It makes me wonder. Will he be our token rebellious child, or will this be one of those hilarious personal stories told over the pulpit at General Conference?

Only time, and some well placed family home evenings, will tell.

And, as a final blow: bless his heart, Mike said the following things to me all on the same day (and it was Sunday, the day when I usually have a breakdown over nylons and skirts and hair):

"Then stop eating Kit Kats."
"Did you serve Top Ramen at the ward break the fast dinner?"
and my favorite,
"Yeah, a person really DOES have to be pretty to wear really short hair!"

Now, the correct statements were
"You don't need to lose weight, you look great!"
"I bet the ward loved your your delicious cooking at the break the fast dinner"
and
"But you ARE pretty enough to have really short hair!"

Ahhh, Mike.

It makes me wonder: is he really just so full of honesty and integrity that he cannot tell a lie, or was he just not paying attention when I baited him with these comments? Only time, and many more loaded questions, will tell.

T minus 7 days till we fly to Provo. Obviously we are all going a little crazy here in Arizona.

Pregnancy Myths Busted

Pregnancy Myth #1: "Pregnancy lasts nine months." WRONG. Pregnancy lasts 40 WEEKS. Doesn't 40 weeks=10 months??? Who is perpetuating this myth?? Why do we all assume it is only nine months long? I think it is a male conspiracy to keep women in the dark. But all we have to do is THE MATH. One month is 4 weeks, right? 40/4=10, doesn't it? 9 months would be 36 weeks, right? Someone help me out, here. I feel like I'm taking CRAZY PILLS!

Pregnancy Myth #2: "When you are pregnant, you have a special glow." WRONG. The only thing that comes close to a glow is the thin layer of sweat that stays on your face all day long as you huff and puff around like the hoss that you are.

Pregnancy Myth #3: "You shouldn't feel bad about your disappearing waistline." MAYBE NOT, but you probably WILL feel bad about the alarming growth of your arms, face, legs, and back side. You may even go to the drugstore to buy "Sublime Slim" by Loreal to rub on your thighs at night.

Pregnancy Myth #4: "Pregnancy is a time to get lots of sleep because when the baby comes, your sleeping days are over." WRONG. At the time of conception, you can pretty much wave "bye bye" to a good night's sleep for at least two years.

Pregnancy Myth #5: "When you buy maternity clothes, buy them in the size you are normally (such as S, M, L, or 6, 8, 10, etc.)." WRONG. By the end of my last pregnancy, they couldn't even MAKE pants big enough for me, and I think I am headed in that direction right now.

Pregnancy Myth #6: "It's great to be pregnant because you get lots of attention from people. It makes you feel special." WRONG, unless you are one of those sickos that likes strangers touching your stomach in Walmart.

Pregnanyc Myth #7: "There's no reason to dress in frumpy clothes when you are pregnant. You can stay hip like Gwyneth Paltrow and Kate Hudson did." WRONG. It's hard to dress hip when the only comfortable thing you own is a pair of tattered sweatpants. FACT: wearing capris when you are pregnant makes you look like either Tweedle Dee or Tweedle Dum.

Hope this will dispel any misconceptions that my uninitiated readers may have had.

Farewell, My Blogubines

Well, I am heading out for Oregon tomorrow and felt that my public should know why I will be blogless for the next three weeks or so. I'll be at the beach, where there is neither internet access nor a worldly care (other than wondering how I can make the most of my money at the outlet malls--no sales tax, all right!!!) When I return it will be a mad dash to pack my house and move to Tucson, where, incidentally, it was 108 degrees today.

While I am gone I will be wondering why my former CTR-8 Sunday school teacher still remembers me and chats kindly with me every time I visit him at work, aka visit the drive-through at Wendys. Perhaps it has less to do with the fact that I was a memorable 8-year-old and more to do with how much I frequent Wendys? The uniqueness of my chicken nuggets-only order? I may never know...

I'll also be trying to formulate a blog about the time I visited the batting cages and got hit by the slow softball...multiple times...in front of an entire little league team who was laughing at me. More information to come after two week long inspiration from being on the beach and being pelted by bird dung instead of softballs.

While I am gone I'll also be working on my book: "Pregnancy Fashion for Dummies." Am I qualified to write this book? Not really. Will I fake some designer credentials? Probably not. Will I force Carrie Ann to be a co-author to lend it some credibility? You bet. Will there be a section called "Don't Be Seduced By Jumpers"? Of course.

I may or may not attempt to eat as much chocolate silk pie as a human can while I am away.

I will also obtain a free Oregon Coast real estate booklet and spend most of my time salivating over the idea of living at the beach, which looks like this:


Holden will probably require a naked romp or two on the Pacific City shoreline, followed by a doritos binge, the aftermath of which generally looks like this:


I will require heavy sedation in order to willingly return home, only to move to Tucson (108, 108, 108).

My mother will probably come inside my house while I am away (most likely to do us a service or check on things, etc.), and she'll probably smell the unknown stinky smell that resides in our bedroom, which will drive her mad like it has been driving me mad for a week. Febreeze, Lysol, a box fan--nothing works! Why won't the smell go away?? Where is it coming from????

I'll be pondering the Batman/Spiderman condundrum and wishing that I didn't sound so eager to kiss either superhero in my comment on that blog. I'll also be wondering if Batman is less super, more hero. While Spiderman is more super, less hero. It depends on how you define the word "hero." In Readers Digest, there are all kinds of heroes who don't have any powers. But I would like to remind everyone that Peter Parker originally wants to use his super power to make money at wrestling matches. Who is the bigger hero now?

Mike will be relishing in the fact that he successfully (and quite confidently, if you ask me) defended his thesis. He'll also be in China with a list of things I want from the Pearl Market.

I will miss reading your blogs. And I will miss obsessing over the amount of readers who visit my blog, their IP addresses, their search terms ("Hawaii Stinky Feet Girl"?) and their comments (or lack thereof on occasion).

Have a good July...

Nine Moments in the Life of a Teacher

1. Your first teaching job comes in the form of a freshman writing course. You get the letter of acceptance and spend the next two weeks preparing like mad: you choose just the right briefcase and first-day-of-school outfit. You stand in front of the mirror saying, “good afternoon, class, and welcome to English 115. My name is Ms. Rasmussen.” To your horror, on your first day of class you can’t get the song “Hot For Teacher” by Van Halen out of your head. “What am I in this for, anyway?” you ask yourself as you scan the classroom, looking for cute, eligible RM’s.



2. That girl who always rolls her eyes at you in the back of the class sends her B+ paper to her high school English teacher, who insists that the paper YOU graded should have received at LEAST an A-. Your worst fears are confirmed when your boss reads the paper and tells you that the high school teacher was right. You smooth things over by telling the disgruntled student that “I gave you a lower grade because I expected more from you than this. You are such a good writer.” She never stops rolling her eyes at you for the rest of the semester.



3. You get married and move away to China—pretty typical scenario—where you teach 8 English classes and your male students ask you to play tennis with them and want to know if you know any other white women who can be their girlfriend. You fumble around for an answer when your students ask you how to pronounce an umlaut in the phonetic alphabet. At some point you have to leave class to vomit in a squatter and find an eraser and some chalk. Forget about an overhead projector and a copy limit. You don’t even get a textbook. On the last day of class, your students ask you to pose for a group picture immediately after you threw up, yet again, in the squatter.



4. You return from China determined not to throw up during class ever again, and, considering that you are in the advanced stages of pregnancy, this is not as easy as it might seem. You make up for your absent-mindedness by frequently bringing treats to class: hot chocolate, fudge nut bars, whatever you were craving the night before. One student from Alabama has an inexplicable crush on you, which leads him to bring you pumpkin pie shakes from Jamba Juice, comment on how cool your shoes are, and marvel the first time he sees you wearing glasses (“I’ve never seen you in THOSE before!”)



5. You start to notice that during your lessons you sweat profusely. It’s the pregnancy, but your students just think you are a disgusting, sweaty hoss—and, to be honest, you feel like one. The most prominent sweaty place is the area above your upper lip. It seems especially bad when you teach the Beehives on Sunday. You don’t know if you should point it out (like former “New Kid on the Block,” Joey MacIntire did when he hosted TRL. He was like “look at how bad my pits are sweating! I’m going to go change my shirt during this Mariah Carey video”), or whether to just pretend it doesn’t exist. Either way, you can’t win in the eyes of those demure 12-year-old girls, which is why you imagine they released you from your calling.



6. You have your baby and return to teaching six months later. Contrary to reason and human decency, your six-month-old doesn’t sleep at night AT ALL. You start to take Diet Coke intravenously just to stay alert for your three hour class, which consists of more ESL students than you know what to do with.



7. During a rather brilliant lesson on “tone,” you severely alienate one of your “non-traditional” students (i.e., a student that is older than you, male, and bitter about being in a class full of 18-year-olds that is taught by a woman). You alienate him by playing the Depeche Mode version of “Personal Jesus” and comparing it to the Johnny Cash version. Whose tone is more sincere? Turns out that this non-traditional dude “partied” with Depeche Mode back in ’85 at a hotel in Park City. When he hears them sing “Personal Jesus,” he feels like he really DOES have a personal Jesus. Johnny Cash is just country, and therefore not valid. After this, nontraditional student does little to mask his hatred of you, and you end the semester with a university-imposed restraining order against him.



8. You enroll in an advanced writing internship, in which you intern for a professor in an advanced writing class. Your professor spends more time critiquing your eye shadow than she does telling you what to do in class. She’s good at telling you that you are wrong and that “you need to go like this” as she makes a sweeping motion over her eyelids to indicate that you have a crease in your eye shadow.



9. You finally get your Masters and become a full-fledged part time professor. They give you an “A” sticker (people have been known to kill for an “A” sticker), an office with a door, and they leave you the heck alone. You feel that you have arrived. You start focusing a lot more on your outfits, like in the good old days, and you laugh at how insecure you used to be until you get an email from a student who rolls her eyes a lot in class—something about her grade not being “fair” and how you contradicted yourself in some conference . . .