Flickr has some fun Easter Eggs you can add to your pictures — including a Santa hat and Santa beard.
Check out Shnodda-nas’s new holiday garb here.
When you can’t take your favorite antihistamine, it’s hard to be resentful at your baby when you can feel him/her kicking at you while leaning against your desk.
I’m at school right now, dropping off some marked papers for students to pick up, and I can’t lean over my work for too long without baby kicking me away from my desk.
Even my unborn child doesn’t think I should be at work today!
… a friend brings you over cool, FREE baby stuff!
Jerry‘s away for the next 3 days at his own personal writer’s retreat at a local convent. For the next three days I’m going to be immersed in marking student papers and final exams — complete with a raging cold that makes me sound like Issac Hayes and breathe like an emphysema patient. That, and no one’s here to coddle or take care of me — he’s away, and my mom won’t be here til next week.
Needless to say, my attitude has definitely seen better days.
Then I get a call from her that she’s bringing me over something for our little one. Turns out it’s a baby papasan chair that a friend of hers gave to her to give away. Those of you that know me know that one of my favorite reading chairs is my own, adult-sized papasan chair — so this little mini-me version looks to be a perfect fit. And the price is right!
Thanks to Janine’s friend and the delivery girl’s kindness, my cold doesn’t seem quite as omnious as it did earlier. Granted, the papers I have left to sort through tonight are still fairly dismal, but at least I can now imagine putting my little one in a nifty baby chair sometime in the near future!
… so you can’t rest type of cold.
Ugh, it’s bad enough that you can’t breathe very well when you’ve got a 4.5 pound baby inside of you on most normal and good days — it’s even worse when you combine that pregnancy trait with the congested nose of a cold.
I’m attempting to solve this homeopathically, but I think I’m getting fairly pathological in the process. I hate it when I can’t breathe.
Little Lefties: “starting small to promote growth” — From their About Us description:
Little Lefties is a children’s clothing company dedicated to making a difference by teaching children to value themselves, the future, and the world around them. We started this company so that we could raise awareness in children and adults alike about matters that will ultimately impact their futures: the environment, believing in dreams, empowering little girls, the importance of education, and overall positive values.We are passionate about making a change in the world, and there’s no better place to start than with those who are just beginning to learn how to make healthy decisions. We believe that children are never too young to start learning about important issues that directly affect them. Teaching a child to love herself, to reach for his dreams, or to care about the health of our planet at a young age can really make a big difference not only in the child’s life, but also in their surrounding environment. These valuable lessons can stick with the child for a lifetime.
My kind of company, no? So far my favorites include the onesies of “Future Feminist” (I’d put this on Shnodda-Nas, even if he’s a boy) and “Strong” — and the toddler teeshirt “Future Treehugger.”
I can already foresee some relatives not approving of the way we’ll raise our little one — if only because Jerry and I are a bit unconventional. I’ve already got my line down for the inevitable arguments to come. I see my job as a parent as not necessarily to teach (read: indoctrinate) my child in WHAT to think, but to show him/her HOW to think.
That’s my mantra and I’m stickin’ to it.
(somehow the title reminds me of this album and past favorite of mine)
Tonight was the first night of prenatal educational classes for Jerry and I. Tonight’s class was all about the stages of labor, and the instructor readily acknowledged that it would probably freak out everyone in the room. She was mostly right. Of course, her attempt to comfort us was that next week we get to learn about the coping strategies and pain relief options — but that still leaves us with a week of our thoughts about the physiological expectations of what’s ahead. Fun times.
While this may have been our first night of prenatal ed, we’ve already been to a breastfeeding educational class last week. In this class, they showed a video that seriously verged on propaganda. It was of two different births — one with medication, one without. After the baby was born, it was placed on the mother’s chest, with the hopes of the baby reaching for the mom’s breast for its first snack.
Of course, the non-medicated labor baby crawled/squirmed (!!) its way to the nip with no troubles. Actually, the video of it was pretty amazing to watch. Then, of course, the baby whose mother had medication was shown. This baby was groggy and couldn’t find the nipple even when it was thrust in his face.
So, of course, everyone is thinking to themself that the “right” thing to do in labor is to brave it sans medicine — otherwise, you’re missing out on that first bonding opportunity. This is such an unfair thing to do to first-time moms out there. Of course, the video doesn’t stress that the drug given to the medicated labors was Demerol, which isn’t given in the later stages of labor these days. And, of course, they don’t state that some babies take a while to get used to the whole eating procedure — whether or not they’re born with or without meds. (and I rationally know these things, but it still doesn’t stop my visceral reaction to what I’m seeing)
That said, the rest of the breastfeeding class was enlightening and useful — while completely one-sided.
Tonight’s class was longer, and more graphic. They showed an actual video of a birth, which was thrilling and terrifying. Newborns really do look like little cream-covered aliens at birth. I’m still trying to imagine something like that coming out of me.
It was actually more amusing to watch Jerry watch the video than anything else the night had to offer.
Ah well, there are a couple more classes left of the breastfeeding and the prenatal. It’s quite empowering to be in a room surrounded by women who are just as abdomen-bulge-y as you are.
I found out this factoid from one of my weekly email newsletters:
A Russian woman holds the record for having the most children. Between 1725 and 1765, she was pregnant 27 times and had 69 children.
Yikes.
To be or not to be pregnant. I’ve been in a Hamlet-ly type of mood lately — melancholy, testy, and on edge. Dangerous combinations when you’re 8.5 months pregnant.
I’ve been wondering the reasons behind why some women crave being pregnant so often, and can’t wait to experience it all over again (and again). Beyond the feelings of amazement of having a growing human being inside of you, I think many of these women really like the attention that is heaped on you (whether you like it or not), whenever you are noticeably knocked-up.
And to be fair, there are times when I really like the attention, too. I like the fact that people try to be nicer to me, and accommodate me when they can — all because they can see that I’m “with child.” Sap that I am, I especially like how protective Jerry is of me these days. I can’t walk outside without him holding my hand or arm, just so I won’t slip and fall. While he’s always been sweet and considerate to me, I can really tell how often he goes out of his way to help me these days.
But, then again, I don’t particularly like the stares I get while walking down a hallway, or the misshapen waddling body of mine I see in window reflections. I suppose it’s a trade-off. It’s just odd to get used to people noticing I’m pregnant, especially because for so long no one could really tell right away — and I felt like I was carrying along a special secret inside. Today I know that my “secret” has been long divulged by my body’s betrayal.
Classes are finally over for me, and my final exam is on Friday. I was hoping to have most of my student reports marked by exam time, but that’s looking more and more doubtful the closer Friday creeps. Tonight is our breastfeeding class, and tomorrow night marks the first class of Prenatal Education. Time is rolling by, fast and furiously, and before I know it, I’ll have a baby to juggle in addition to everything else going on!
From another email I received today:
I would also like to thank you for being a great professor. I really enjoyed class because you made everything so interesting. I feel that how much I learn from a class is largely dependant on my professor. I do not learn well from those who are difficult to understand or are “pedant” speakers. And I feel that I’ve learned a lot in this class.
Thankfully, these thank-you emails are nicely counteracting some of the negativity I’ve received this term.
This weekend I’m sorting through 3 classes worth of student portfolios — needless to say, it’s been a riveting experience (and not in the way you’d think).
Anyway, I came across one particularly nice portfolio from one of my students who may actually not resent me for teaching communication in a College of Engineering (a rare breed!). He included this “Instructor Evaluation” at the end of his portfolio:
On a personal and non formal note, I just wanted to thank you for making GE 300, or as many students like to call it “HELL 300,” a pleasant experience. I admire how you were able to come to class focused and enthusiastic about the material regardless of how you really felt that day. You were always supportive of any comments made by students, no matter how silly or stupid they were, and offered constructive and only constructive criticism.I wouldn’t really know, but I’m sure it’s not easy being pregnant and teaching such an energy demanding class. In fact, without physical evidence, we probably would have never guessed it. To be honest with you, the first think I said to D was “I really hope we don’t have to deal with her mood swings by the end of the term” (jokingly of course). But you clearly showed you were capable of putting your personal life aside and teach effectively. I truly appreciate the effort and the commitment you put in throughout class and I am grateful that I had you as an instructor.
You wouldn’t believe how much I needed that small bit of encouragement. The student also attached a “congrats” card to the evaluation, and the inscription read: “Dear Ms. Bennetch, I hope your little one grows up to be as cool as me.” I love it.
Maybe I’ll be able to finish this pile of marking with a smile, after all.
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