schooled

One of the places I've diverged from others: the schooling of Miss Alice.  We are seriously considering the pros and cons and wherewithal of homeschooling this small firecracker.  There is reading and praying and lots and lots of talking involved.  I come to the topic in fits and starts, which is why I have yet to tell you about it much at all.

In the mean time, I've joined a small group of women in a preschool co-op.

We take turns each week, teaching the children.

It was my turn yesterday.  The letter B and number 1.  Have I mentioned that our preschool is comprised of three boys and Alice?

They all did so well, even though I was terrified.

We sang songs, talked, pretended to be honeybees, ate a snack of Bread and Bananas, and made stripey Bumble B's.

It was kind of awesome.

the best offense

I'm tired of opinions.  Everyone has one (or several).

We do a lot of things that seem to generate opinions from other people.

I'm not sure why they feel the need to share with me.

I've heard about schooling and sickness and deadly nut allergies, bed times and discipline and the spacing of additional children.

In every case I'm citing, the opinions weren't favorable ones.  And in most cases, they weren't even kind.

Is there something about my face that welcomes people to tell me that I'm doing it wrong?

I've been wondering about that quite a bit.

So, dear readers, I'm turning to you for advice.  What do you do when someone offers an opinion about how you're living your life that you don't like, or even worse, is based on erroneous assumptions that make you want to punch the opinion-offerer in the nose?  I'm guessing you don't throw any punches.

strange and mostly about television

Nothing connects these things, it's what happens to my brain these days when not regularly exercised.


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The paci removal project is done and gone, as far as I'm concerned.  We're actually able to talk about pacifiers around Alice without her getting upset and weird about it, asking me to get hers back from the store.  My feelings about the experiment follow:

1. Having Alice give the paci's to a completely unconnected stranger (aka the clerk at the pet store) was exactly what we needed to do.  If it had been Chip or me taking them away, she would have seen us as an enemy.  This way, whenever we talked about it afterward, especially when she was asking about where they were and suggesting that maybe we get them back, I was able to say that they were at the store and then discuss her awesome fish.  A nice deflection, there.

2. Speaking of the store clerk, it turns out that we gave her a once-in-a-lifetime experience, because as we were leaving, she told us that she'd never had someone pay with pacifiers before and couldn't wait to tell her friends about it.

3. I should have considered more deeply the fact that I would become the Designated Fish Caretaker.  I'm curious how many of my goldfish and hamsters that my mom was feeding, caring for, and when I wasn't in the room--- watching?  Because the other thing that I wasn't expecting is how mind-numbingly entertaining they are.  Or, at least, how one can spend an HOUR in front of the aquarium in slack-jawed awe.

4. They're all still alive, btw.  And of course, now that I've said it out loud and now that our two-week warranty is up, I'm expecting a dramatic fishy death any day now.

5. Also, despite my best imaginings, no new baby fish either.

6. One side effect of the paci removal is that Alice is now strangely worried about losing everything.  I'm answering this question on a regular basis: Can I keep ___?---- as in, Can I keep my toothbrush?  Can I keep my blanket?  Can I keep Olivia the Pig?


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I think it's a product of brain calcification that I'm THIS excited for a new season of Super Why to have started on Monday.

On that note:
1. Has Super Why jumped the shark since they added a cuddly talking dog to their group of Super Readers?

2. It would appear that Wonder Red has a new disturbing hip gyration in her rhyming dance.  Has anyone else noticed this?

3. And further, either the kid doing the voice for Pig is going through puberty, or they've recast the dude, because: TOTALLY DIFFERENT VOICE.

4. Lastly, I think the writers are actually trying to age Baby Joy - because the baby who was merely crying and laughing and had barely any hair at all for several seasons is now sporting a flowing mane of toddler hair and talking up a storm.  It's weird, is what I'm saying.


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Do you think it's weird that Alice runs around the house at 7pm singing WHEEEEEEL --- OF --- FORTUNNNNNNE!!!!!!!!!!!!


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I'm not ashamed to admit that I watched All My Children yesterday, and plan to do so again tomorrow and Friday.  It's the last few days of an institution, after all.  Plus: Sarah Michelle Gellar talking about vampires!


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I miss milk.

When I'm pregnant I can't consume milk in ANY form without serious consequences.  No more needs to be said about the particulars.

But I really do miss milk, especially in the frozen dessert form.




 

From the bottom to the top

I write to you from the exotic locale of flat on my back.

The reality of New Pregnancy, Whole New Realm of Pregnancy Symptoms hit a few weeks ago. It started with some twinges of pain at the back of my leg... Thought it might be muscle spasms or something. Then in the days following, it grew and grew until I could barely stand.

Now I have a diagnosis under my belt and a sincere pain in my... Um.

Let's just say, I am looking for any and all suggestions y'all might have to deal with sciatica. I have a prescription for physical therapy-- which I am going to (begrudgingly) pursue, but tell me whatcha got.

navel gazing of the second part

(I'm not sure what happened, but this entire post was hijacked by EXTREME CAPS LOCK USAGE, and I'm just going to apologize for it here.  Carry on.)



As something of a long-time blog reader (I stalked people LONG BEFORE I ever had the guts to introduce myself or put this little old Creamery out on the internets), I consider myself a pretty decent source of truth when I say the following:

BLOGGING CONTENT OF SECOND OR THIRD OR FOURTH (you get the idea) PREGNANCIES IS BORING.


I don't mean any disrespect to any of y'all who are busy blogging about the belly when it's not the first time around - but I know what I know.  When it's your first time, there's all this awesome discovery of the heinous and weird and completely unbelievable crap that your body goes through.  It's funny.  And horrifying.  And also strangely touching, in the best way possible. 

But those second babies---- well, there isn't a lot said about them.  The strange discoveries are done and gone, and while it's still awesome, the being pregnant stuff--- there is clock-watching that just doesn't make for a good blog entry.

Be that as it may, I promise I won't be totally silent over here (if ever - ha!).  And I feel bad that I haven't said much more about little Polly.  But I get it, I get it in a visceral way that I didn't before: I don't have the same sense of intense focus on this belly that I did with Bean.  How could I?  Bean herself is doing so much to keep my attention focused outside of myself --- I'm doing a preschool co-op with some friends that starts next week (more on this later), and until very recently I felt like every day that I actually spent upright was a TOTAL WIN, which meant that my personal expectations were down to LET'S CELEBRATE THAT WHIMSY GOT DRESSED TODAY and LET'S TOAST WHIMSY THAT SHE MANAGED TO CLEAN THE BATHROOM.  It didn't leave a lot of room for writing navel-gazing missives about my hopes and fears for Baby Whimsy #2.

And now that I'm here, on the other side of First Trimester Sickfest, the intense view of WHAT HAVE I DONE fades into smoke and I'm feeling...  optimistic.  And even... excited.

Which means that I can say, as if I'm discovering it for the first time:
HOW CAN A SINGLE PERSON PEE THIS MUCH?