The neighborhood in the middle of the day is a quiet place. It's almost spooky. People walk the streets on their own. Plumbers and Fed-Ex vans populate the road. Where are all the kids? Surely they can't all be at camp, can they? I wonder how many people are actually home. You have pregnant women who are cleaning everything in preparation for their babies. Mums at home with babies. People working from home. I'm impressed that those folks get anything done. Maybe they are the folks walking the pavement alone at the middle of the day - going to a cafe for coffee and company. People who are sick. People who are on vacation. People who do not have a job. People who work at night. There must be a surprising amount of people home right now at 12.27 on a Friday afternoon.
I imagine that most of the at home people are on their own. Lots of houses with one lone person working, thinking. Is the TV on in these houses? These are the people buying those small soap magazines you find at the supermarket checkout. The ones that are dedicated to one soap. How many people are napping? Why does a nap always happen on the days that you are not really doing much, instead of the crazy busy work days. I guess because you have time to nap. Naps always make me feel worse. I wake up disorientated and annoyed. I'd love to master the 10 minute power nap - mine always seem to stretch to 30 minutes or more. If you add that to the 9 hours I get every night, I'm a lazy bones. Oh, sleep how I will miss thee.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Selfish writing
I am thinking about how I want my classroom and lessons to improve and doing a lot of teacher book reading for inspiration. I just started a book about keeping a writing notebook. The premise seems to be regular writing nurtures a love and comfort of the craft that in turn leads to deeper, more significant final pieces. Certainly, after a year of painful five paragraph essays this sounds highly appealing. The book starts out by explaining how to launch a notebook and how to stop the inevitable comment "I have nothing to write about." This hit home with me. I think about this blog and that thought goes through my head each and every time. What about me and my life is important enough to write down here - a place where anyone can access it? But, as the book explains, just the process of writing helps you to see significance where you couldn't see it before. The more you do it, the more worthwhile an activity it becomes for you, and maybe at some point, for your reader as well. Writing is a selfish activity, in whatever form it describes something about the author.
So, back to thinking about teaching, a major motivation for me is to join the students in the activities I assign them. If daily free writing is one of those activities then I need to start keeping my own writing notebook. I think I already have right here. And it feels good.
July is slipping away and the baby is growing. I just updated the whiteboard and we have 28 days until D-Day. Four weeks left of being a young woman. Four weeks until I become a young mother. I'm spending my days waiting - filling in time with lovely activities like reading 19th Century British literature (I'm halfway through A Woman in White"), starting a book club at school, pre-natal yoga, seeing friends for lunch, watching TV shows via Netflix online streaming, walking Gus in the humid Philly weather, napping, watching my belly shake and stretch with each little movement. There is no pressure on me right now. It still makes me feel guilty and I list things I could be doing in my head, but then I stop myself with the thought that in a few weeks this freedom is going to be gone. I should enjoy it while it lasts.
It's fascinating how my brain works with all this freedom. I may have a day with nothing specific planned, but in my head I have to break the hours up into various activities - if it is just going to the store or cleaning. I obviously need a routine. I think free time scares me, doing nothing scares me. I need a schedule - almost so if anyone asked how I filled my day I would never have to say "I did nothing".
Wow, this is a lot of rambling free thoughts. I have already gone to delete a lot of it. But I'm not going to want my students to delete, so I can't delete either.
So, back to thinking about teaching, a major motivation for me is to join the students in the activities I assign them. If daily free writing is one of those activities then I need to start keeping my own writing notebook. I think I already have right here. And it feels good.
July is slipping away and the baby is growing. I just updated the whiteboard and we have 28 days until D-Day. Four weeks left of being a young woman. Four weeks until I become a young mother. I'm spending my days waiting - filling in time with lovely activities like reading 19th Century British literature (I'm halfway through A Woman in White"), starting a book club at school, pre-natal yoga, seeing friends for lunch, watching TV shows via Netflix online streaming, walking Gus in the humid Philly weather, napping, watching my belly shake and stretch with each little movement. There is no pressure on me right now. It still makes me feel guilty and I list things I could be doing in my head, but then I stop myself with the thought that in a few weeks this freedom is going to be gone. I should enjoy it while it lasts.
It's fascinating how my brain works with all this freedom. I may have a day with nothing specific planned, but in my head I have to break the hours up into various activities - if it is just going to the store or cleaning. I obviously need a routine. I think free time scares me, doing nothing scares me. I need a schedule - almost so if anyone asked how I filled my day I would never have to say "I did nothing".
Wow, this is a lot of rambling free thoughts. I have already gone to delete a lot of it. But I'm not going to want my students to delete, so I can't delete either.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Who's in control?
I was walking Gus in the park yesterday. I hear the jingling of a collar coming up behind us and I brace myself for what happens next. A medium boxer attempts to sniff Gus. Gus's hackles are up immediately, he yanks on the lead and lets out three low growling barks and goes for the boxer's throat. I pull on the lead, desperately try to move Gus away. End up being under low lying branches of a tree, bending down and trying to get Gus under some kind of control, saying "sit". All is pointless, because the boxer keeps coming back for more and Gus repeats his growling and lunging. I walk away and I assume the boxer's owner eventually collected his/her dog. I have no idea, I didn't look round, just walked away and burst into tears. I cried all the way home.
Being 8 months pregnant and having to deal with dog aggression is not really how I wanted my Sunday morning to go. It really shook me up and made me think about how safe I'd feel with Gus and baby out walking. Something that will happen in a few weeks time. I don't want to give Gus up, but I really don't think it will take many more experiences like that before B takes him back to the pound. So, I've launched a take back control project with our little dog. All the books, TV shows, advice websites say again and again you have to be the leader. So my mantra with Gus is "I am the leader". I've started to be a Nazi on walks with him and we are doing leadership activities at home (he lies next to me without moving for 30 minutes, every time he pops up, I put him down without saying anything). He is being a little stubborn - which tells me I am not the leader in his eyes - but we will get there.
I've been too soft and it is not good for him or me. It is the same way with teaching - and I assume going to be exactly the same way with parenting. With all three I have to be a leader - firm and consistent. However, there is always a little voice that is prone to bending the rules. I need to stop that little voice. I think of how often I have done it in the classroom and it has resulted in so much pain and stress for me dealing with the negative consequences.
I have four weeks to develop my leader persona to help me be a dog owner, teacher and a parent! I am the leader. I am the leader. I am the leader.
Being 8 months pregnant and having to deal with dog aggression is not really how I wanted my Sunday morning to go. It really shook me up and made me think about how safe I'd feel with Gus and baby out walking. Something that will happen in a few weeks time. I don't want to give Gus up, but I really don't think it will take many more experiences like that before B takes him back to the pound. So, I've launched a take back control project with our little dog. All the books, TV shows, advice websites say again and again you have to be the leader. So my mantra with Gus is "I am the leader". I've started to be a Nazi on walks with him and we are doing leadership activities at home (he lies next to me without moving for 30 minutes, every time he pops up, I put him down without saying anything). He is being a little stubborn - which tells me I am not the leader in his eyes - but we will get there.
I've been too soft and it is not good for him or me. It is the same way with teaching - and I assume going to be exactly the same way with parenting. With all three I have to be a leader - firm and consistent. However, there is always a little voice that is prone to bending the rules. I need to stop that little voice. I think of how often I have done it in the classroom and it has resulted in so much pain and stress for me dealing with the negative consequences.
I have four weeks to develop my leader persona to help me be a dog owner, teacher and a parent! I am the leader. I am the leader. I am the leader.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Crazy in the Summertime
Two experiences over the past week have made me question where I live.
First, I was doing my normal lunchtime dog walk and my dog was doing his usual act of peeing on any other dog pee laden leaf, bush or plant. I stopped at one unkempt garden to wait for his territory marking to finish, quietly munching on an apple and thinking about going for a swim. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a figure stand up on the front porch of the house we were standing at. It was an African American man in his 40s - 50s with messy hair and he started yelling at me. "Hey lady, are you going to clean that up?" I gave him a quizzical look and started to explain that my dog had just peed. I didn't get out two words before he got louder. "You need to pick that up, this is my property, you think you can come by here and leave it. Bitch. You think your dog can crap. Bitch." I tried to take a deep breath and again explain his misunderstanding. My talking angered him more and he got louder. "Bitch. Fuck you. Bitch." I told the man to have a nice day and walked away. I had to hold back the tears.
I have walked past the house another two times and find myself crossing the street. The man has been sitting on the porch both times.
Second, I was running some errands and leaving a car park. Another man, African-American late 40s - 50s, came up to the car gesturing for me to wind down the window. I drove on. In the rea view mirror I saw him get money from another woman. Ten minutes later, I'm reversing out of another car-park, looking over my shoulder and then out of my side mirror and take a big gasp. The window is filled with the same man. Again his is gesturing for me to stop and open the window. I wait for him to move around the side of the car so I can drive away.
I live in a huge city and I have felt safe. Moments like these burst the bubble that I have created. Am I safe? Is it safe to bring a baby into this neighborhood? I walk around the streets and there are clearly two worlds existing side by side. The slow gentrification of the neighborhood means richer white people are moving into traditionally black blocks. There is a new "fair-trade" cafe or sushi restaurant opening up pretty much every week. On the surface the neighborhood looks like a wonderful, up and coming place to live. But it's not real. Take two more blocks west and people are living much poorer lives. The two worlds don't often mix, so the bubble of safety is created. This week those two encounters burst my bubble. I felt unsafe here this week and it has shaken me. I realize that a lot worse can/could have happened to me and I may be over-reacting. But just those tiny glimpses of what could happen make me question our choice of home.
First, I was doing my normal lunchtime dog walk and my dog was doing his usual act of peeing on any other dog pee laden leaf, bush or plant. I stopped at one unkempt garden to wait for his territory marking to finish, quietly munching on an apple and thinking about going for a swim. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a figure stand up on the front porch of the house we were standing at. It was an African American man in his 40s - 50s with messy hair and he started yelling at me. "Hey lady, are you going to clean that up?" I gave him a quizzical look and started to explain that my dog had just peed. I didn't get out two words before he got louder. "You need to pick that up, this is my property, you think you can come by here and leave it. Bitch. You think your dog can crap. Bitch." I tried to take a deep breath and again explain his misunderstanding. My talking angered him more and he got louder. "Bitch. Fuck you. Bitch." I told the man to have a nice day and walked away. I had to hold back the tears.
I have walked past the house another two times and find myself crossing the street. The man has been sitting on the porch both times.
Second, I was running some errands and leaving a car park. Another man, African-American late 40s - 50s, came up to the car gesturing for me to wind down the window. I drove on. In the rea view mirror I saw him get money from another woman. Ten minutes later, I'm reversing out of another car-park, looking over my shoulder and then out of my side mirror and take a big gasp. The window is filled with the same man. Again his is gesturing for me to stop and open the window. I wait for him to move around the side of the car so I can drive away.
I live in a huge city and I have felt safe. Moments like these burst the bubble that I have created. Am I safe? Is it safe to bring a baby into this neighborhood? I walk around the streets and there are clearly two worlds existing side by side. The slow gentrification of the neighborhood means richer white people are moving into traditionally black blocks. There is a new "fair-trade" cafe or sushi restaurant opening up pretty much every week. On the surface the neighborhood looks like a wonderful, up and coming place to live. But it's not real. Take two more blocks west and people are living much poorer lives. The two worlds don't often mix, so the bubble of safety is created. This week those two encounters burst my bubble. I felt unsafe here this week and it has shaken me. I realize that a lot worse can/could have happened to me and I may be over-reacting. But just those tiny glimpses of what could happen make me question our choice of home.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
The joys and woes of pregnancy
Before this moment in my life spins past and I'm consumed with being a mother, I want to remember some of the high and low points of having this baby growing inside of me.
Joy #1
There is a growing baby in my belly. It amazes me each time I look down at my ever-expanding mid-section. Only a few layers of skin and muscles and there is a little girl who has grown from nothing into a person complete with fingernails, eyelashes and taste buds. I imagine her enjoying rocking from side to side as I walk the dog and listening to me talk to her during the day. I cannot wait for her to arrive, but having her in-utero is consistently wonderful and while she is in there she is all mine!
Woe #1
I can no longer find a comfortable position. Sitting up can last for about 20 minutes and then it feels like someone has lodged a brick underneath my ribs and keeps moving it further and further up. Shifting position can help for a little while and then the brick-layer returns. Last week's road trip to North Carolina was not much fun. Standing up isn't so hot either. When I stand the magic comfortable 20 minutes passes quickly and then the skin over my stomach begins to feel like an elastic band that's been stretched and is about to be twanged.
Joy #2
The first homework assignment from the birthing class was to count kicks. You are meant to feel 10 kicks in a 2 hour period. I have been counting kicks for about two weeks and each night I have counted 10 in about 5 minutes. She is one active bambino and I love it. I place my hand on my belly and I get a welcome kick/punch/hip bump who knows. Some people have said they can tell what body part is making which movement but I have no idea. I'd like to think that the "bricks" in my ribs are her feet - but that might be me wishful thinking on my part. When I'm on my side in bed, my belly can resemble a bag of popping corn. There are moments were she makes me flinch her movements are so intense.
Woe # 2
The noises from my bottom that I now produce are unbelievable. Juicy, loud, full-bodied. I have to laugh at myself everytime a new one makes its debut. Amazingly and thankfully there is no smell. I'm hoping that this lady-like attribute stops after she is born.
Joy #3
My stupidly thin hair tends to be incredibly greasy. I have to wash it daily to avoid the fried chip look. But now, thanks to this baby, my hair is looking great. It is thicker and I don;t look like I'm drowning after 24 hours. I realize that this is defnitely not going to continue, but I am loving every dry, glossy folicled minute of it.
Woe #3
In the first trimester, I would be in bed at 7.00pm. There was no choice, I was done and needed every minute of sleep I could get. Now in third trimester, the tiredness is back and I'm not giving in to it so easily. I am annoyed at how little I seem to be able to do without needing to sit or lie down. Walking the dog can be a struggle! But I'm trying to stay active so when I step on the scale at the doctor's office I don't have to gasp at my weight gain. I have gained 22 pounds so far...right on track, but it needs to be managed. My doctors has said that I won't be a member of the 80 pound club! But I do have to see a line graph that tracks my weight gain and get a mild scolding if it is too steep. The problem is that food is just tasting too good right now - especially the dreaded crisp.
Joy #1
There is a growing baby in my belly. It amazes me each time I look down at my ever-expanding mid-section. Only a few layers of skin and muscles and there is a little girl who has grown from nothing into a person complete with fingernails, eyelashes and taste buds. I imagine her enjoying rocking from side to side as I walk the dog and listening to me talk to her during the day. I cannot wait for her to arrive, but having her in-utero is consistently wonderful and while she is in there she is all mine!
Woe #1
I can no longer find a comfortable position. Sitting up can last for about 20 minutes and then it feels like someone has lodged a brick underneath my ribs and keeps moving it further and further up. Shifting position can help for a little while and then the brick-layer returns. Last week's road trip to North Carolina was not much fun. Standing up isn't so hot either. When I stand the magic comfortable 20 minutes passes quickly and then the skin over my stomach begins to feel like an elastic band that's been stretched and is about to be twanged.
Joy #2
The first homework assignment from the birthing class was to count kicks. You are meant to feel 10 kicks in a 2 hour period. I have been counting kicks for about two weeks and each night I have counted 10 in about 5 minutes. She is one active bambino and I love it. I place my hand on my belly and I get a welcome kick/punch/hip bump who knows. Some people have said they can tell what body part is making which movement but I have no idea. I'd like to think that the "bricks" in my ribs are her feet - but that might be me wishful thinking on my part. When I'm on my side in bed, my belly can resemble a bag of popping corn. There are moments were she makes me flinch her movements are so intense.
Woe # 2
The noises from my bottom that I now produce are unbelievable. Juicy, loud, full-bodied. I have to laugh at myself everytime a new one makes its debut. Amazingly and thankfully there is no smell. I'm hoping that this lady-like attribute stops after she is born.
Joy #3
My stupidly thin hair tends to be incredibly greasy. I have to wash it daily to avoid the fried chip look. But now, thanks to this baby, my hair is looking great. It is thicker and I don;t look like I'm drowning after 24 hours. I realize that this is defnitely not going to continue, but I am loving every dry, glossy folicled minute of it.
Woe #3
In the first trimester, I would be in bed at 7.00pm. There was no choice, I was done and needed every minute of sleep I could get. Now in third trimester, the tiredness is back and I'm not giving in to it so easily. I am annoyed at how little I seem to be able to do without needing to sit or lie down. Walking the dog can be a struggle! But I'm trying to stay active so when I step on the scale at the doctor's office I don't have to gasp at my weight gain. I have gained 22 pounds so far...right on track, but it needs to be managed. My doctors has said that I won't be a member of the 80 pound club! But I do have to see a line graph that tracks my weight gain and get a mild scolding if it is too steep. The problem is that food is just tasting too good right now - especially the dreaded crisp.
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