Return of the Blog

One year ago today, I was lying on a hospital cot with an IV in my right hand and veins full of morphine (which did absolutely no good, by the way). One year ago today, I was awake because the nurse had left one fluorescent light on and it was just enough to keep my eyelids propped open. One year ago today, I was supposed to be resting and saving my energy for what was going to happen to me at 9 a.m. that morning. One year ago today, I was a day away from becoming a mom.

I can't believe it's been a year since this beautiful boy entered the world.

And what have I been doing all this time? We had an uneventful summer, and the school year started. I have an awesome bunch of kids this year; I love teaching them. And right now, it's 5:18 in the morning. I have been up since 3 a.m., trying to finish all the crap that never seems to go away (I swear, I just washed a roasting pan that's been sitting on the counter since Thanksgiving). I'm up this early because my life is too full, and though the vast majority of it is full in a good way, I realized at 3 a.m. that no one's going to make time for me to take care of myself.

Except me.

It's not good to feel guilty when you take just a couple of minutes to shave your legs, even though you should be doing the dishes, changing the cat litter, or maybe playing with your little one while he's still young enough to want you as a playmate. And yes, Scholar is doing his share, but even with his help, it's a Herculean task. I want to lose this weight; I want to take care of my smile; I want to write. No one can do this stuff for me.

I was wide awake at 3 a.m., contemplating the fact that in just a few days, I will celebrate a not-so-happy anniversary. The one-year-ago today when I was scared I was dying, and two blood transfusions brought me a new energy that I vowed I would use to my best advantage. It's been a year, and everything has changed, and nothing has changed. My life is wonderful; I'm not going to bitch about that. I've never been happier. When I compare where I am now to where I was five years ago, with a miscarriage and a soldier in Iraq and an impending layoff and financial ruin...I'm so damn grateful I could cry. Everything changed when I started saying "Good things are happening." Good things did happen, so fast they made my head spin. But I am STILL not fulfilling my biggest dreams.

Good things are still happening, but I'm changing my mantra. I am taking good care of myself. Because if I don't take care of me, who's going to take care of everyone else?

Has it really been...

Months and months since my last post? How the time does fly! Prince Frog will be four months old in about a week. I can't believe how big he's getting. He's already in 6-9 month clothes!

He is absolutely gorgeous in every possible way. He has one single dimple on the right cheek, and I spend hours trying to coax a full-on smile so that I can see that dimple. He is spoiled rotten by his grandparents and his aunts. Oh, yeah, and his parents. The dog, not so much.

School year is almost over, too. About fifteen weeks left. Man, my life is zooming along with a disconcerting swiftness. I'm glad to have the summer off so I can breathe again.

What's new with you?

I am the proud parent...

Of a beautiful baby boy. My little Frog Prince is five weeks old today, and he is smiling and cooing and doing weird flippy things with his legs (hence the nickname).

And now he's crying. I think my blog will suffer from neglect for a long time. Forgive me -- but at least now you know we're alive.

I'm coming, your Highness! Ribbit!

Labor Negotiations

Ahhh, where to begin...

The child is still on the inside, but I am hopeful that this will change soon. Maybe a little too hopeful. Every twinge, every cramp, every wiggle leads me to think, this is it. On Friday morning, at about 1:30, I woke up to contractions. I did what I usually do when I suspect false labor -- I took a warm bath and downed a glass of warm milk. The contractions invariably go away, but this time they did not. Scholar was still awake, perusing the circulars and debating whether to go to Black Friday. We decided that since we were both up anyway, and since the stores were on the way to the hospital, we would have ourselves a little adventure. We showered and trucked out of the driveway at about 3:30 a.m. Stopped at Denny's for breakfast, and realized we were so out of our league.

Holy crap, there are some hardcore shoppers in the world. Seriously, have any of my two faithful readers ever been to a Black Friday? I knew we were in trouble when the six ladies in the booth adjacent to ours pulled out laminated store maps of Wal-Mart and began to strategize. I am not kidding, people. Laminated maps. Each woman had a brown paper bag full of circulars, and typed orders about where to go and what to grab first. I overheard General Patton telling her troops, "Don't head for the rounders; that's where everyone else will go first. Go right to the shelves. Get as many E-Z Bake Ovens as you can."

Then some other women came in, and they all kissed their greetings. "Where have you girls been?" Patton asked. "Your eyes are red."

The ringleader of this second party smiled indulgently. "The outlet mall opened at midnight."

Folks, the only outlet mall near us is a one hour and twenty-minute drive from that Denny's. I began to get a chilling feeling that we were about to enter a new world -- a harsh, cruel world where shoppers eat each other and sales clerks hide under counters in fear. And the contractions continued to intensify.

What, you may be asking yourselves, were we even thinking?

We were still game, though, so we headed over to the electronics store. Scholar dropped me off in front of the store. He was going to look for parking while I began to gather those items we wanted. The cramping was steady, but not unbearable (that should have been my first clue). When I walked into the store, I wanted to duck and cover.

There were at least 500 people in the television section alone.

I have never seen so many people crammed into one space. No, wait -- that's not true. I have been to fraternity parties, so I do have something to compare this to. The line was as long as the ones to the girls' bathrooms at a beer blast. Difference there, of course, was that no one was shedding her clothes, vomiting on the ground, peeing in the aisle, or sharing beer. Why was I here again?

I did a prefunctory squeeze around the store, threading my elephantine body through the madding crowd, contorting myself into positions that were sure to cause damage. It suddenly occured to me that no nine-months pregnant woman in her right mind would be doing this. Not to save $30 on a wireless router. I decided then and there that I would march right outside, find my husband and the car, and exit post haste.

Problem was, I was trapped in the store. I weasled my way out by saying I was in labor. I know, I know -- I milked it, but I still wasn't absolutely sure that I wasn't, and the crowds did part for me. No, I'm lying -- no one cared. But I felt justified in pushing my way through. And suddenly, I heard my name being paged over the loudspeaker, and I knew Scholar was searching for me. I pushed harder. One lady gave me the look of death, and I volleyed it right back at her. "Get a grip, woman," I snarled. "I'm not cutting in line: I'm trying to freaking leave."

Finally, the crowd thinned, and I saw Scholar standing at the exit door. He looked pale and worried; he scanned the crowd with fearful intensity. I swear to God, faithful readers, I ran to him. It was just like in the movies. I ran to him and hugged him as hard as I could, and he breathed into my hair, "Oh, thank God!"

Never, never, never again. We will never dare Black Friday again. Life is too precious.

As for the contractions...yeah, they kept going. We went to the hospital on our doctor's advice. We were monitored for twenty minutes, and I got my very own cup of fruit juice before they sent us home. False labor, dammit, dammit, dammit. And somehow, the nurse did not seem at all sympathetic when I casually mentioned that we had just come from Circuit City. She laughed.

I sincerely wish her a month of Black Fridays. So there.

Not Dead...

Hello, Blog Fans.

I have been waiting patiently for our new modem to arrive, and huzzah! Here she be! So now I'm all jacked in and ready to update about life -- mine, Scholar's, et al.

Things are well in the baby department. I know, because I've spent a lot of time there lately. Had a bout of false labor on Monday morning, and the nurses at my practice only smirked, rather than outright laughed at me. The practice contractions are intense -- and can I ask, please, why they need to be practiced at all? I am confident that crying with pain is a skill I'll develop quickly when the time comes. Whimpering with pain isn't practice -- it's annoyance!

School is fine. I love my kids; I will miss them so much while I'm on leave. I have some dreamy writers in my classes, and I love looking at the younger versions of me and Colleen and Cindy and Derek. So nice to know that we aren't fading out.

And now I have to grade 45 unit tests on The Crucible. BTW, Daniel Day Lewis in the movie version looks remarkably like a crush many of us used to have in the good ole Crisis days. But the crush actually turned out to be a better actor, didn't he?

Can we stop now, please?

I haven't updated in a while, mostly because I've been under a curse and I'm afraid to talk out loud about it. If there's anyone out there who knows how to banish demons and evil spirits, please light a white candle for me, okay? Cause it's been bad.

How bad?

Remember that new Kia Spectra I bought? The 2006, with cruise control and a CD player and that glorious new car smell?

On Monday, the car was rear-ended while I was stopped at a traffic light. I spent the evening in OB triage. We're all fine, but the Spectra is totaled. The week before school. Sigh.

And then the Corolla got a flat tire and a cracked lugnut. And then our cat got diagnosed with cancer. And then we got the new apartment, but we have no furniture so we went to finance some and got denied. And then the deluge.

But I'm fine, and the family is fine, and we have two great jobs and an awesome new apartment. So we'll be sleeping on an air mattress -- so what! And the cat seems to be hanging in there, so maybe it's not what the vet thinks. Anyway, I'll think about it tomorrow. I can't think about it now. I'll go crazy if I do.

Tomorrow is another day.

Let's never do this again, shall we?

Some of you might be wondering why I have been unusually silent of late. The truth is, I'm afraid to post about my butt-ugly week on the 'net. I don't want my curse extending to my faithful readers.

I hate to be cryptic about what's going on, but I can't spill too much info because of the liability involved. Suffice it to say that my beautiful new car is no more. Through no fault of its own, the poor dear, it was involved in a vehicular slaughter. Panic not! I'm fine; the baby's fine. The car is a total loss.

In addition to spending hours getting monitored at the hospital for fetal distress (I was FAR more distressed than the baby, believe me!), I also dealt with a flat tire in our OTHER car. I fought with three insurance companies.

And received the terrible news that our beloved cat may have terminal cancer.

I am taking it one day at a time, folks. That is all I can do right now. But I'm okay. Don't worry.