Things I have Learned about Babies and Bellies

Most women don't really like to take pictures of themselves while they are pregnant. I, on the other hand, am glad to have a valid reason for gaining weight and finally having a socially acceptable reason for showing off my fat belly. That being said, some of these are still really bad pictures. Not in my finest hour. And I have come to realize that I am getting pregnant everywhere, not just the belly. But, for posterity, here they are.


I like to call this one: "Bad Hair at 16 Weeks". Notice the background--all of my belly pics are taken in the baby's room.

This one is titled "I Am Not Pushing it Out! Take the Stupid Picture! at 18 Weeks."

This one is called, "I Look Really Bad in Profile, So I am Striking a Maternity Model Pose at 20 weeks."

And this one doesn't have me in it. It's just a picture of the baby's room, completely finished sans crib. Believe it or not, I taped off all the lines myself, and they are mostly straight. My eyes started going a little wonkey near the end, so Joe did the last five or so. I chose browns because we don't know what we are having, and I didn't want a "baby" baby room, for resale reasons. Plus, how cute did it turn out? Poor Joe had to put in the chair railing and the quarter round (at the ceiling). Something I will never ever put him through again. He really loves me to do all of it with minimal swearing. And he only threw the saw across the room once. Such a sweet guy!

In addition to the pictures, I thought I would make a list of some of the most interesting things I have learned about being pregnant.

1. I can't walk anywhere without a hand. It's amazing that all of a sudden, my chances of being hit, mugged, or beat up by some random person have dramatically increased. At least, that's the only thing I can figure out, because I can't go anywhere now without Joe's hand securly in mine.
2. I fully realize how much people love my baby. No one cared when I had to walk on ice last year, now it's the utmost concern of Joe, Joe's dad, and others. No one said anything when I walked up and down my three flights several times a day for the last three years, but now, three flights!? It's too much for a pregnant woman! I have been making dinner for us for three years, and seeing how Joe's pants were a little tight for him this last week, he hasn't been starving. But now, Joe's mother sends home dinner once in a while because she figured I might not feel like cooking. Very sweet.
3. Now, when someone asks me how I am, they fully expect a detailed list of my many ailments. Usually when someone asks you how you are feeling, they don't really care. Not any more. The best part is, when I say that I am fine, no complaints, they look at me like I am crazy. I feel like I am cheating them of a good conversation because I have had a really easy pregnancy.
4. Babies don't ever sleep at night, in-utero or out. At least mine doesn't. It never fails that around 8:30 or 9:00 p.m, I will start getting kicked, and it will go on until about 1:00 in the morning. It doesn't hurt or anything, but the problem is, I am so fascinated by what I am feeling, I don't get a lot of sleep.
5. I am no longer lazy. I am pregnant. It's interesting that before I was pregnant, a messy house meant I wasn't a good housewife, a fact that I was willing to fess up to, but now? No, I'm not bad. I'm just pregnant. You don't want to go to the gym? Of course not...You're pregnant. It's okay if you don't grade those papers. You need a rest. You're pregnant. It is so wonderful to not feel guilt all the time. I don't think this little baby understands the joy it has brought into my life already.
6. Before, if I wanted a donut, it was because I had no will-power. Now? Those donuts must have something in them my body is craving, otherwise, I wouldn't want them. Therefore, because my body needs whatever those donuts have, I should eat them.
7. The baby has taken my brain. This one I had heard about, and I am sorry to say, I really didn't believe it. I just thought people had a lot on their mind with a new baby coming, and that's why they were stupid. I here and now sincerely apologize for ever thinking that. I thought I was going nuts until I watched The Biggest Loser finale, where Allison Sweeny, the host, who was eight months pregnat, kept calling everyone by the wrong names and mispronouncing a lot of words on the teleprompter. It was then I went, it isn't just me! It really is the baby! I'm not crazy! Unfortunately because my students this year will never know me not pregnant, they will never realize this. They will just move on next year thinking, my English teacher was nutty.
8. Once you hit about 20 weeks or so, your belly grows 1 cm a week. In our non-metric nation, that sounds small. Until you realize, like I did this past week, that a centemeter is exactly length of eight dimes stacked on top of each other. I'm serious. Stack eight dimes together, and that's how much my belly grows. A week. And I have 17 weeks left! That means my belly is going to grow 136 more dimes (if I've done the math right)!
9. I love my old garments. I know that I shouldn't really be lamenting my underwear, but I had the kind that were kind of stretchy, which meant they stayed in place when I pulled up my jeans and such. Even though I am a fan of materinity garments (pull it WAY up over my belly) I do miss the stretchy, non-moving underwear of what, I am now referring to as my skinny days (imagine--my size 10 pants were my SKINNY days!)
10. Every pregnant woman is different when it comes to pillows. I am a stomach sleeper, which is why I haven't had a lot of rest lately. I have had much advice on the pillow situation, and I have tried everything. I simply cannot figure out what will make me comfortable. I had Joe tuck me in, surrounded with pillows so if I roll on my back, I will still be propped up, but I didn't like that because I felt like I was sleeping by myself. My poor husband was on the edge of the bed. Then, I tried a pillow between my legs, but because I turn a lot in my sleep, because my body wants to lay on my stomach, the pillow never stays there, so it's pointless. The only thing I have found that works is to put the body pillow on one side, and Joe on the other. I either cuddle the pillow, or a cuddle Joe. If I cuddle the pillow, then Joe scoots really close to my back. That way, if I roll over, then he props me up. If I cuddle Joe, then when I roll over, my pillow props me up. It's the only way I can figure to stay on my side, which is really inconvenient to Joe, I realize. But he has informed that he doesn't mind, because I keep him warm. And he doesn't like feeling like he's sleeping alone, either.

So, those are the 10 things I have learned over the last 23 weeks. I am sure I will learn more in the last 17, and keep everyone posted on any new break-throughs.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

So I haven't blogged for a while, therefore, you are all going to be subjected to what I like to call Blogorhhea, in other words, I have had much building up, and it's all coming out now. I just realized how disturbing that was....sorry.

First on the list was our new tradition, the annual viewing of The Christmas Carol at Hale Center Theater in West Valley. Scary place, good theater. Joe's parents used to take his sisters and him to the play every year when tickets were relatively cheap, and now Joe feels very strongly about continuing the traditon. As an avid theater-goer myself, I am on board. My first Christmas Carol was last year, and one of my dear, dear, friends, Adrien (affectionatly known as "adge-rawn". It's a college thing) was Fred's wife, and the singing homeless woman. Last year my favorite part of the Christmas Carol was seeing Adrien, and hearing her sing again. She has the beautiful voice--it's a high, gorgeous soprano, with a vibrato like chocolate. I hadn't heard Adrien sing since she graduated SUU and I came back home to finish up at UVSC. I was determined that she was going to sing at my wedding, but she was on her mission. Oh well. Back to the point. The point was that this year, Adrien wasn't in the play, and I missed her a lot. The other woman who sang "Silent Night" was an alto, and it didn't feel quite right without my wonderful Adrien. But it was still good. The Christmas Carol is always good. Joe and I have decided that we are going to keep up the tradition of taking our kids to the play, even if it means saving up for a year for the tickets, once our kids are old enough to sit that long.

The next weekend, Joe and I went to Temple Square with Joe's good friend Steve, and his wife Emily. They got married just two months after we did, so we do stuff with them once in a while.

Our customary Joe-Take-the-Picture picture

Here is the Nativity on the Reflection Pond

The temple is so beautiful!

I have other pictures, but right now my computer is being retarded and won't let me pull 'em off the camera. Dumb technology.

Our actual Christmas day was so fun. Joe got a stool for work, clothes, and lots of videos and video games. I got a print that I've been wanting for some time now, the Lehi Roller Mills picture by Eric Dowdle:
I also got the BBC Romance collection (YAY!) complete with Pride and Prejudice (ahhhh....Collin Firth), Jane Eyre (who doesn't love a romance about a teacher and a crazy lady in the attic?), The Scarlett Pimpernell (those crazy French. They're always chopping off someone's head), Tom Jones (I hear this one is dirty. I don't know if I'll be watching it...), Emma (I hear Clueless is loosely based on this one. Very loosely), and a few others I can't remember right now. I was a very happy camper, even though I have only seen Pride and Prejudice. I have new sick movies. YAY!

And a recipe book holder. Just what I wanted--no, not to cook, but to hold up my books at school. Silly, I know, but I have been dying to have something hold up my books while I am busy typing the many quotes I use when creating assignments. So, fun. We love Christmas! And, I am even more excited to report that, since this is the last Christmas without baby, that it's the last Christmas to be spoiled, spoiled, spoiled, by a husband who shows his love in many ways, but particularly in gestures.

Perhaps my favorite gift of the season would have to be baby-related. Joe and I have been saving for a couple of months to buy the glider I have wanted for the baby's room, and the day after Christmas, thanks to a few gift cards from family, we finally had enough to go order it and pay for it in full! You should have seen the lady's face at Vintage Oak when I informed her that we wouldn't be needing a payment plan...we'd been saving. And the look got even better when I handed her a envelope full of cash to pay for the chair. I must say, I am now becomming more Bingham than Jones. Paying for something with cash?! Unheard of, in the Jones clan. Those darn Binghams!

My other favorite gift was my 22 week ultrasound! On December 23rd, we were able to go get a good look at Baby, now no longer a gummy bear, and see everything safe, sound, and oh-so-cute! So what are we having? See if you can tell. If you tilt your head to the right, you can see the baby's face. His/her hand is on his/her cheek with the thumb sticking up. Can't tell what the baby is? That's okay. Neither can I. And the doctor didn't look, either.
And we're not going to find out. I know that people are really frustrated. I have had more than one person tell me that I can't have a shower because "what will I buy?" Guess what? Babies need more than clothes, even though I know that's what people like to buy. So, if you are so inclined, and this is mostly for those few family members that are having fits over what to buy, Joe and I are registered at Babies R Us and Target. (Please note: I am not asking for presents. I have just had a lot of people ask me how they are supposed to know what to buy if they don't know what I'm having. How did people eve have babies before all of this technology?) If the colors look kind of boyish, it's because I let Joe pick them out, since I seriously doubt a baby girl would be really upset if we got a blue diaper bag. It's not because I know something you don't. (Side note: I was so close to going back on my resolve--I want to know, too! But it was my idea, I talked Joe into it, and he was going to hold me to it. They asked if we were going to find out the sex while I was in the bathroom, so I really didn't have a say. Sigh)

So, what are we doing now that Christmas is over? Well, I have been working for hours on lesson plans for when the baby comes, and today I went to the high school to get late work graded and entered since the term end the week we get back to school. Joe goes to work everyday, but doesn't really do anything. Even with all this snow, people are reluctant to fix their cars. We cleaned our house, an event that doesn't happen too often, and it has (happily) stayed clean over the past few days. That's about it. Merry Christmas to everyone, and we hope that you have all had a wonderful Christmas, and that everyone will be safe on the roads tonight. But if by chance you do have fender bender, take your car to AutoMenders on 45th south. Behind Lowes. Happy New Year!

Jason Mraz, I'm Yours

So Joe was a huge sport and accompanied me to the most wonderful concert I have ever been to: the one and only Jason Mraz. I am proud to say that I have been a big fan of his since his first album debuted, which I constantly must remind all of those who think they are fans NOW simply because of the new hit, "I'm Yours." There are a lot of you posers out there. For example, I have had a Jason Mraz poster hanging in my classroom for the last five years (his first album was released six-ish years ago), and every year my students ask who he is. This is the first year they have said, "Oh, Jason Mraz! I love that song!" And I always ask, "Which song? "The Remedy"? "You and I"? "Did You Get My Message"? "Forecast"? "Please Don't Tell Her"? Because those are my favorites." Without fail, I am always met with a blank stare. "He has more than one song?" Posers. All of them.

So, when I was on Ticket Master last July looking for So You Think You Can Dance tickets and saw that my wonderful Jason was coming in concert, I thought, "Screw you, Chelsie Hightower! I've got a date!" And I bought myself my own birthday present. And wonderful Joe, who doesn't really like Mr. A-Z, agreed to go and be my camera man so I could pay attention. He loves me.

So, on October 28, we headed to the E Center and enjoyed the best concert I have ever been to. There was dancing, there was singing (of course) there were pictures, and a about a 25 minute encore. It was so worth it being tired; I had arranged to take the next day off work so I could sleep.

This is Joe and me before the show. For some reason, Joe can't take a picture without closing his eyes. I don't get it, because he's the one pushing the button. He knows when it's gonna flash.

If you watch America's Next Top Model, you'll get this nex joke. We decided we wanted to practice "smiling with our eyes," as Miss Tyra Banks would say. She's not the brightest bulb in the box.

This is us with "dead" un-smiling eyes.

This is us "smiling with our eyes." It's a process that involves squinting and dipping your chin. Those models. What will they think of next? Rocket scientists! Every one of 'em!

Awesome shots from the main event:


1) These were the horn guys. They were freaking amazing! They would go out in the audience and pop up once in a while and play like...wow. It was cool.
2)This is a shot of the stage. You can see those screens behind Jason (yes, we're on first-name basis). Those were really cool. Before the show started, they had a number you could text messages to and they appeared on the screens. You could also take pictures with your phone and send them, and they would also appear on the screen. You can even look up Salt Lake City concert pics on Jason Mraz's website.
3)A close up of Jason on the screen. Isn't my husband a wonderful photographer?
4)The trombone guy. I had no idea trombones were so bitchin'. 5) Jason. He had this cute/funny little dance where he would wiggle his butt and nothing else. It was just fun!

The clip below was a pain in the freaking rear, but I had to figure it out because this is when Jason was singing really fast (which is his specialty) during "The Remedy." Joe pans over in the middle of it because apparently I was freaking out, but you can't see anything.

It really was an awesome concert, and I am not saying that because I am biased. Even Joe, who's not a big fan, said it was really good. I had a couple students come to school screaming at me about how awesome it was, and we were jumping and squealing like he had actually winked at us or something. I would pay for that again.

I feel sad for all of you who missed out on the concert. I am even more sad for those of you who don't care. It's like not caring about starving children in Africa, or that our ozone is going to crap. You're losing so much, without even being aware of it. I also feel sad for those of you who are new fans. How much you missed. Posers.

Effects of Baby

Disclaimer: Throughout this and subsequent blogs, I will be referring the Baby as 1) Baby or
2) He/him. This is no way "announcing" anything. As stated before, we will not be knowing the gender of Baby. I am choosing to use "him" as the preferred pronoun because writing s/he and him/her very tedious. Also, I refuse to call baby "it," and, being the level 1 Grammarian I like to believe I am, I cannot bring myself to use the plural pronoun "them," even though it is becoming more and more accepted. Therefore, despite the un-political-correctness of it all, I am choosing to use the biblical pronoun "he" to refer to both genders. In short, I choose God over politics.


It is very exciting to hit week 12, almost 13! Joe and I heaved a collective sigh of relief that Baby has made it this far, and it looks like he is here to stay! I have been very lucky, since I have almost no sickness or anything since Baby's arrival on the pee-stick, but Baby has been a little naughty so far and has had a stern talking-to.

Baby gave me zits. It's not that I have never had them before, but they were few and far-between, only occurring once in a while in my hair line when I used hairspray--thank you, Grandma Jones! (Those injuns have the best hair and skin.) However, since Baby's arrival, I have had numerous breakouts that not even Proactive is being very good at combating. I do realize that Baby is only a Baby and doesn't know any better, but honestly! So we had a little talking to, and I told him, very Super Nanny-like, that zits were not acceptable, and Mommy does not appreciate it, and if he does it again, he will be sent to time-out (which I am designating as around the bowel area. I don't know if that is possible, but it's really the worst place I could think of.) I think we have an understanding.

Also, I was wondering if babies can kick you in the head? Because Baby is giving me headaches! If this continues, it's time-out for him!

One thing that I am very grateful to Baby for is my figure. I know this is the part most women don't like. But when you have grown up battling weight, crying every time you come home from Weight Watchers, and not allowing yourself to eat even a little tiny cookie, you become grateful for nine months of not dieting. And, it's okay to gain a few pounds--not only is it okay, but you know why you are gaining it! Don't get me wrong, I'm not going crazy with food or anything. In fact, I have stuck pretty closely to my Weight Watchers lifestyle, just allowing a few extra points, and taking the workout down a couple of notches. And I am gaining weight. And for the first time in my life, I don't feel guilty about it. Thank you, Baby, for making me feel better about my belly, even though I am used to looking top-heavy (thanks, Mom), and now I look a little like a Star-Bellied Sneetch. (I am aware that no one else notices this shift. But I do. And Joe does. And that's all that counts.)

Besides the physical, Baby has affected me in many ways. I have never been one much for worrying. No matter what happens, things that have to get done have a way of getting done. This has always been my theory. But last week, I looked at the stack of essays, projects, poems, journals, and book reports that needed to be graded, and I thought about how I had to go to scouts, we were leaving for the weekend, I needed to put together a Christmas Program, and possibly come home from my weekend early so I could go to Relief Society, well, I started to bawl. I usually don't cry for things like this. I typically only cry when I am really really sad; I simply deal with stress. But last week I broke down on the way home from Blimpie and bawled. I think I scared Joe a little bit because he was trying to solve all my problems, which made me cry harder because I didn't want solutions. I can figure it out for myself! And then I started crying because I was crying and I'm not a cryer. I think I can chalk this break-down to Baby. And today, one of my sweet students came in and asked if I needed help on Thursday with stuff because "I looked a little frazzled" in class today. Which is weird because I didn't feel frazzled. I think I can thank Baby for that one, too.

But, I am so thankful that I have to deal with zits, headaches, Star-Bellied Sneetch bellies, and breakdowns. I paid a lot of money to feel this way, and I am so grateful I did. All in all, I am glad that Baby is here, and if he continues to behave himself, I think we will get on very well. I never thought I would be so happy feeling so crummy. Yay, Baby!

I don't feel like I am showing any that people will notice besides myself, so I haven't taken any pictures of Baby yet, but I will once I feel like I look pregnant rather than fat.

Ooooh! Fun!

I always like anything that plays with new names.

1.YOUR ROCK STAR NAME (first pet, current car): Dave Blazer

2. YOUR GANGSTA STAR NAME (favorite ice cream flavor, favorite type of shoe):
Rocky Stilletto
3. YOUR NATIVE AMERICAN NAME (favorite color, favorite animal): Red Cat
4. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME (middle name, city where you were born): Jane Provo

5. YOUR STAR WARS NAME (first three letters of your last name, first two letters of your first name): Bin Sa

6. SUPERHERO NAME (2nd favorite color, favorite drink): Maroon Juice
7. NASCAR NAME (the names of your grandfathers): Winton Ray Tracy
8. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME (your 5th grade teacher's last name, a major city that starts with the same letter): Ewell Evanston
9. SPY NAME (your favorite season/holiday, favorite flower): Autumn Daisy
10. CARTOON NAME (favorite fruit, article of clothing you are wearing right now): Pineapple Jeans
11. HIPPIE NAME (what you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree): (Marshmallow) Maties Willow

So I think my favorites are Dave Blazer, Rocky Stilleto, and Autumn Daisy. Maybe I should name my first child Rocky Stilleto? Hmmmmm.....

And the verdict is...

So, I found this list of books on a friend's blog (thanks, Becky!) and since I am an English teacher, and a self-proclaimed reading nerd, I thought it would be fun to see how many books I really haven't read. SO here's my list, and I hope you enjoy it.

"The Big Read reckons that the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books they’ve printed.
1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you intend to read.
3) Underline the books you love.
4) Strike out the books you have no intention of ever reading, or were forced to read at school and hated.
5) Reprint this list in your own blog so we can try and track down these people who’ve only read 6 and force books upon them! :)"

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4 The Harry Potter Series - JK Rowling
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6 The Bible
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

So, 27 books read, 10 books loved, 23 books I intend to read, and 10 books I don't intend to read, or hated when I did read them. Very interesting. I did better than I thought I would, but maybe not as well as a respectable English Major should do. Then again, there aren't a whole lot of American Lit books here, of which I am a huge fan...

It's Our Little Gummy Bear

It is official! We are going to have a little baby, who currently looks like a gummy bear (so says my doctor), but hopefully will grow out of that...but if s/he doesn't, we will still love him/her as our own.

Currently, I am 9 weeks and 5 days, which puts me due on April 29, 2009. There is very little dispute on this date, since I know exactly when I got knocked-up: August 6, 2008 at exactly 10:45 A.M. This is the beauty of modern-day technology. (Don't worry...I'm not giving you our ... schedule. We got pregnant by IUI). We already have stellar names picked out, which we refuse to tell anyone because I know everyone will love them and steal them, since baby-making is the regular past-time in my ward. And we aren't going to find out if s/he's a she or a he until the big day in April. Just to drive everyone nuts, including my mother and my mother-in-law. I haven't been sick at all, just really tired, and I am not a nice person when I don't eat. Just ask my A3 class, whom I yelled at for turning in their assignments. On time. In the right basket. On the due date. Yeah. Big-time B#%@^. But just feed me, and I am the nicest person in the world!

We went to the doctor for our very first appointment today. It was very exciting. I was starting to get scared that there wasn't anything in there because I haven't had many symptoms or anything. It's unreal, when you've waited as long as we have, to actually believe that there is really a little person floating around inside me. And s/he was floating, boy. That kid was kicking and punching and waving. S/he looked kind of like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory when Charlie and Grandpa Joe drink the soda and it makes them float and they have to belch to get down. We were so excited and happy and just so glad that it's finally true.

However, I will be breaking the tradition of the floating fetus. Even though my fetus was floating...but Joe can't stand it, and honestly, I get a little creeped out by the thing. I did buy a shirt that says, "The Hottest Fetus Ever," because I thought it was hilarious. And my fetus is probably the hottest ever. Even though it looks like a floating, kicking, gummy bear.

I would just like to say thanks to everyone out there who was rooting for us. I know there were a lot of prayers sent our way, and I know our names were on many a temple roll. And I know everyone has been very concerned, and we are so grateful to know so many wonderful people and have so many great friends that care about us. And I would like to thank the academy, and of course, my manager.

Pity, Party of One?

Have you ever had a week where you just feel that it has been the longest, most horrible week, but then you look back and realize nothing really bad has happened to you? I have just had one of those weeks, and the crappy thing is that I really want to complain and write a very long blog about how horrible and bad, bad, bad that my whole life is, but, unfortunately I can't think of anything that has made it horrible and bad, bad bad. But I'm going to write a really long blog and complain about it, anyway.

I guess it all started Sunday when I came home from church, and it suddenly dawned on me that I have three callings. I love serving in my ward, don't get me wrong, but when I realized that I could never be late to church because I am the Relief Society chorister, I could never sneak out on Sacrament Meeting a little early because I am the Ward Choir Director, and my Tuesday's have to stay free and clear because I am the 11 year old scout leader, I got a little distraught. I am not a skip-out-on-church-type of person, but the idea that I'm not free to if I ever wanted to...well, I feel a little trapped. I have been assured that they would release me from one of these jobs (either the first one or the last one; the middle one is new), and I am sure I will be. Soon. Hopefully. Obviously, I need these callings, or someone needs me, so I go where I'm called. Still...

Monday was actually a really nice day because I went to a follow-up workshop. I went last summer to a week-long cohort called Secondary Literacy Institute, which has four follow-up sessions throughout the school year, and Monday was the first one. I have really enjoyed my cohort, and I have learned so much while I am there. The instructor is fun and entertaining, and he helps me make my classroom fun.

But it was an epiphany I had on Monday that is a little distressing: I really love professional development. Those of you who are not in the educational field, or even those of you who are not secondary ed might not realize the dire consequences of this discovery. In my school, professional development is synonymous with Satan's Plan: the worst thing that could ever happen to teachers--especially those veteran teachers who have been teaching 20+ years. So admitting that I enjoy professional development is like choosing Satan's plan, and now, I am one of his minions who must go out and persuade all those other "righteous" teachers to cross over.

And, another realization: I think I prefer being a student to being a teacher. I do love my job, but there's so much less stress and more enjoyment being the student. I do what you tell me to, and I don't have to make a whole lot of decisions, and the best part? I don't have to grade anything. You don't know how disheartening it is to realize that when you are a good teacher, and you have planned a stellar lesson with meaningful homework, and you've just done your job to the best of your ability, that you are then punishing yourself with loads of your own homework--90x what I have ever given my students. Sigh.

Tuesday I was so tired, all I wanted to do was sleep. But alas, I had dumb scouts from 4:30 to 5:30 (which usually lasts an extra 15 minutes), and I had signed up to take dinner to a very nice lady in our ward, but we needed to have it there by 6:00 because the person I had signed up with needed to be home by 6:15. And I didn't have anything I had volunteered to bring, because I had forgot about it in the midst of my Monday Epiphany, so I was reduced to salad kits and Peterson's pumpkin cookies. I came home exhausted. Thank goodness Kristin was so sweet to bring me dinner for no reason at all! Thanks so much!

Wednesday was the longest day of my life. I had a meeting at 7:15 about the up-coming split of our high school. When I realized one my closest friends here might have to go to the new high school, I was all sorts of wound up. Then I went to lunch, and everyone there was being these huge negative nay-sayers, which was starting to make me upset because, contrary to popular belief, my principal isn't ALL evil. And then it was Parent/Teacher Conferences, the most dreaded day of the whole school year. I hate telling parents their kids are failing. I hate it even more because then for the next few days I get stacks and stacks of late work, and everyone wants their grades updated right away. I finally got to leave the school at 8:00 only to find that Joe had pulled muscles in his back and wanted me to pick up Icy-Hot patches and cheese. So then I went home and fell asleep on the floor.

Thursday was so long, just because 5 hours of talking to parents following 8 hours of teaching exhausts you.

Today, I finally broke down. I have to plan for two classes on A days: English 11 Honors, which I have never taught before, and Creative Writing. Since I have never taught English 11, all my time is spent prepping for that one class, which leaves no time for my Creative Writing class, so things usually get thrown together. I feel like a very harried and bad teacher in my Creative Writing class. And to make things worse, I forgot that I didn't have any lunch, and my lunch hour is only 35 minutes long, and when you are competing with 2200 students all getting lunch at the same time, it's pretty much impossible to pick up anything and be back in time. So I went to my parent's house to eat something, and their fridge stinks. Literally. It smells like rotten fruit. So I couldn't eat anything there because smells gross me out. So I called Joe, and that poor guy, I started bawling on the phone about how hard it is to prep for three classes, and I couldn't do it, and it was too hard, and I'm too tired to do anything, and this week was too long, and how I couldn't even sleep in tomorrow because of women's conference, and that my parent's fridge stinks so I couldn't eat. I feel really bad about it now. It's not fair to call Joe with that type of stuff because he feels helpless, and then he worries the rest of the day. But I guess I needed to get it out.

The rest of the day was interesting. I yelled at my A3 class for no reason, and a I got mad at a couple of students turning in assignments that were due, but I hadn't called for yet, because I lose things if they aren't all turned in at the same time. By A4, I was better, but I was so drained that I didn't care what they did, and I don't think anyone learned anything from me today.

But it's the weekend, and I'm going to say thanks but no thanks to our Women's conference tomorrow morning so I can sleep in and still go to the General Relief Society meeting tomorrow night. I just wish the weekend consisted of two Saturdays and one Sunday, because my Sunday certainly isn't a day rest....

Life will be better Monday. I know it will. It's just been a very long week with Parent/Teacher Conference emotionally exhausting me. The week is over. I'm going home in 15 minutes, and I will finally get a chance to breathe. I'm okay.

Just Listen by Sarah Dessen

I was trying desperately to find a book to read. I am really tired of trying to plow through The Odyssey, and trying to enlighten my mind by reading classics like Madame Bovary, The Scarlett Pimpernell and Anna Karenina just to name a few of my latest attempts. I actually don't mind The Scarlett Pimpernell. I think I would like Anna Karenina, but it involves too much thinking. And don't even get me started on The Odyssey. For some reason, my Honors kids are really psyched about the idea of reading that. So I am trying. Oh...but kill me now! (I am SO NOT a world lit girl. Give me the good old ex-patriots of the Modern American movement every time!) So I wanted to read something that was for pure entertainment, but wasn't about crazy vampires and wolf-people (because Edward insists they aren't really werewolves), or about crazy 50 year old wizards who are trying to kill boys with weird scars. And I didn't want to read about sex. I tried to read a few YA lit last summer, and well, I am about fed up with all these teenage girls having sex and drinking beer and talking about finding themselves. Don't get me wrong, I am all about finding myself, but to be completely honest, I had to find myself before I got to have sex. It can be done, people! Anyway. We were on our way to the ward campout, and I just really wanted to read something fun and didn't involve deep analysis.

I scrolled throught the e Book store as fast as I could, because I knew I didn't have time to go to the library or to the bookstore (I love that thing!). I didn't even know where to start, because for the last five years, I have been reading only what I needed to read for planning classes. I don't really have any idea of what the students are reading because for the first little bit of my career, all my students were reading Harry Potter, and then once that was over, the Twilight phenomenon hit, and those who aren't reading either of those are reading weird fantasy novels in a series, and I really can't handle all these different people from Zoltron or where ever the hell they're from. And Oprah's books fall into that category of too much thinking. And there's probably a lot of sex in those, too. So I finally found something that looked familiar. It was the cover to this book called Just Listen by Sarah Dessen. I had seen the book on one of my student's desk this past week. My student is a fairy intelligent girl, who reads voraciously, and I think I could trust her taste. She, just like me, read all the Twilight books, thought they were okay, but wasn't impressed. I think I could trust her. So I hurried and downloaded it, and we were off to the campout.

I didn't actually read at the campout, even though I had fresh battaries in my book light, but I started it the next day (Saturday) and I finished it today (Sunday). I'm not jumping up and down, but I was pleased and surprised that I liked it.

The story is, yet again, about a girl who is trying to find herself, but in a way that was different than anything I had read this summer. She wasn't sleeping around. She wasn't experimenting with drugs, and she wasn't being a brat to her family. She is just a quiet girl who was trying to deal with something tramatic that had happened to her over her summer. Her friends have abandoned her because they think she did something she didn't, and the only person who ends up understanding her is this weird, slightly scary guy, Owen. Of course the sub-plot with Owen is predictable, but everything else in her life a long the way is interesting.

The book talks about how her family (a traditional family: mom, dad, and siblings) have handled issues such as eating disorders and depression. The girl, Annabelle, is the youngest of three girls sisters. Maybe that's why I enjoyed the book. I could totally realate, being the youngest of three girls, myself. I was interesting because the oldest sister, Kirsten, was loud and dramatic (um...do I hear a Natalee?). The middle sister, Whitney, had a really hard time reckoning with her position of the family, and her decisions reflected that insecurity. She struggled with her choices, and learned from them (sounds familiar, Yarley). And then the main character, Annabelle, saw how her sister's choices affected her parents and tried to do everything she could to make life easier for them (Did I ever tell you why I didn't get in trouble in high school?). But while the similarities were eerie, there was also enough for me to remove myself and look through a different lense.

There was one scene at the end when all the sisters were together, and Whitney reads something she wrote. It was beautiful, and I started to cry because I could see me and my sisters in that scene, with Yarley talking about all that she's been through. I don't know if you can fully understand that moment unless you have sisters. As for the Owen story, predicatble? Yes. But you couldn't help but root for it. He was so good for her. He saved her from herself.

One last thing that I really liked about this book was that it didn't focus on the worldly aspects of life. It was mostly focusing on Annabelle's growth in learning how to express herself, and how to deal with the ups and downs of life one day at a time. It had a good message. There was one quote that I particulary liked: "Like Owen said, it was day by day, if not moment by moment. All you could do was take on as much weight as you can bear. And if you're lucky, there's someone close enough by to shoulder the rest."

It was nice to read a book that fell in line with my own personal beliefs. Because I do believe that you do the best you can with the resources you have, and someone else will take up the rest. But I don't think it's luck. I think it's our gift from a loving Heavenly Father. It was nice to read something that taught that, and it was nice to read something about families getting through crappy stuff together. It made me feel like there was hope for my students if they read this book. Anyway, if your tired of vampires, sex, drugs, cutting, death, and all the other happy literature there is out there, you should read this. It's not all nice. Bad things happen to good people. But the way the characters come through it is refreshing.

Burgeoning Story

So I wrote the beginning of a story a couple of years ago in my Creative Writing class as a result to a prompt I was having my students do. Every year, when we do the exercise, I read my sample to them to show how one little sentence can lead to a potential story. Every year, I always have at least one student (usually a girl) come back and ask me what happens. And guess what? I don't know. I have know idea where to go from here. So I am posting this to all those who read out there and asking for suggestions.

Please keep in mind (fellow ward members) I have a slight swear mouth. Something I am working on, but my characters are not. I am sorry if I offend anyone. But if Bella can have wild vampire sex, then I can swear.

Quite Frankly

Quite frankly, I was expecting more. More fireworks, dizziness, Puccini, anything to meet the elaborate expectations years of movie watching had built up. I guess I’m not being exactly honest—there was dizziness involved. It just accompanied nausea and vomit. In fact, it was the doctor that told me I was in love, not Puccini.

Those were his exact words, too, “Congratulations. You’re in love.” Oh good. I have a funny doctor. He couldn’t just come right out and say I was pregnant. No. He had to make it cute, “You’re in love.” What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Well,” funny doctor smiled. Did he take pleasure in seeing my whole life do somersaults through those crazy fire rings? “That means that you’re going to have a little bundle of joy in about seven months, here.” Yep. He was enjoying this. “Got a boyfriend?”

I was going to kill him. No, not the boyfriend. The doctor. I might kill the boyfriend, too. After all, he was the one who got me into this mess. This was his doing. I always figured that everything would be safe. I mean, what are the chances of one of those things not working? One in a million, I figured. Well, my dad always did say I was special.

“Well?” Oh yeah. Him. The doctor.

“What?”

“Well, do you have a boyfriend, or a fiancée, or…” I envisioned a slow and painful death for Mr. Funny PhD. I won’t go into it here, but I will tell you it involved swords and a very dull spoon.

"Yes, I have a boyfriend-type of man.” I have been trying for the past year to keep my relationship with Chad strictly non-committal.

“You might want to decide if you love him or not.”

“Why?” My brain had ceased working properly. I knew it was a stupid question, but all I could think of were the various ways I could commit a capital crime right here in this office.

“Well,” Mr. Not-So-Funny-Doctor continued, “Well, you are now going to be a mother, and I suggest you find out if your baby’s going to have a daddy. And if not, you need to decide what you are going to do.”

“You mean I have to decide now? You mean I have to decide whether my boyfriend-type-of-man and I are in love or not? Listen, sir, I know you are probably a very nice person, but I don’t think you understand. I had to close my eyes this morning and poke a pile of my jeans with a pin just to decide which pair I wanted to wear. I have only been dating this guy for like, a year, and I have to decide now whether I love this man or not? NOW?”

“Well,” the doctor suddenly looked tired. I wondered how many girls have given him the same look I felt on my face right then. “Well, it’s better now than in seven months. And you might want to devise a method of deciding that doesn’t involve sticking things with pins.” He thought that was funny, no doubt.

So here it was. No fireworks. No Puccini. Just a stick with pee on it, and I was in love.

Slowly, I returned home. I walked into my dark apartment and looked around. Suddenly, I felt that this space that I had inhabited for the last year was alien and new to me. I looked at all my Harry Potter posters, my concert tees that now doubled as “artwork,” my Red Socks pennants, and I wondered what type of freak lived here. This wasn’t the apartment of a potential mother—mothers should have café curtains and floral wallpaper. And mothers definitely wouldn’t have my long, messy, hair. Their hair would be short and coiffed with enough hair spray to kill off some kind of cute blue frog somewhere in the world.

I had a feeling that a good mother would never wear a shirt that had hung on her wall and then staple it back up at the end of the day. I did. I did it all the time. I used to think it was cool, hip, unique; it was something just quirky enough that would prompt some guy to fall madly in love with me, and, even though he would pretend that it bothered him, after I died a tragic death this guy would write a book about me and say very endearingly, “She wore her own posters.” And everyone would read the book and think, “I want to be like that girl with the shirts on her wall,” and all of a sudden my poster concert tees would be the trend. Everyone would start stapling their shirts on the wall, and even the designers on Trading Spaces would think it was cool and inventive—maybe not so much Edward or Frank, but defiantly Hildi or Genevieve.

But now I was pregnant, with child, knocked up. Suddenly concert tees on the wall weren’t so quirky. They were downright irresponsible.

Nothing in Particular

So I have been BMIA (blogg Missing in Action) for some time now because school started. And I have nothing to write about. So, I am going to make this short. Be patient. Soon, I hope I will have real glorious insights to life. Right now, I am just trying to make it through until God decides to bless me with great and grand ideas to make me feel like a good teacher, not one who just wants to die and sleep for the rest of the afterlife... Fall Break is not coming fast enough!

Mo Urban, Yo

The school year is upon us once again. I have been a bad girl and have only visited Lehi High (a.k.a. my workplace) once this year. A lot of people complain that teachers get paid during the summer for not doing any work. Most teachers counter that by saying that they work all summer, but don't get paid for it. Let me explain how that works. Teachers get a lump sum a school year for the nine months they teach. They do not get paid for the time they have off, they just continue to receive a paycheck. This is beacause the school districts take the nine month salary and divide it by 12, so teachers don't have to go through the summer without pay. Most teachers are in the classroom all summer getting ready, so they really do work for free. I am not one of those teachers. I keep my distance, even if I do have to move classrooms. However, I digress.

What I really wanted to write about was something I ran across in my preparations for the coming year. One of the first units I am going to teach to my honors students is what I talked about before, futuristic fiction. In the midst of that unit, I am going to talk about how vocabulary and language have a profound effect (affect? I never know) on the culture we live in, and it also gives clues to other cultures what we are like. One of the activites I have planned is to give the students a list of new words created by this generation, and the definitions, and the students are supposed to perform skits using these new words so we can see our new language in action. These words are coming from a book I got with my special purchase of Juno entitled Mo' Urban Dictionary: Ridonkulous Street Slang Defined.

I was going through this dictionary and editing (since most of America is disgusting), trying to come up with a list that would be school appropriate, and I found a couple of really interesting words that I appreciated and might begin to work into my vocabulary:

1. artificially busy: Feeling like you have been extremely busy and you have no time for anything fun anymore, but never accomplish anything. Yes. I understand this. This is what I feel like all summer--those Special Victims Unit episodes exhaust me so much that I can't even clean my house.

2. anablog: The old-fashioned journal made up crushed tree pulp you write in. It is usually bound. For some reason, people used to like writing opinions only the read. It is a fad past its prime, but Borders still sells them. Which leads me to question, why are we so ready to blog, but so reluctant to journal? Hmmm?

3. blogorrhea: To write a blog entry just for the sae of posting an entry, not beccause you have done anything interesting today. The very contents of this particular blog....

4. pluto: to downgrade, demot, or remove altogether from a prestigious group or list, like what was done to the planet, Pluto. You wouldn't believe it, but I went to a teaching conference this year, and there were a lot of teachers that were upset about this. This is one word that really defines a generation...

5. January joiner: Someone who joins the gym in January as part of a New Year's resolution and by February is back to being a couch potato. Guilty.

6. I was all: Expression commonly used in plave of "and I said" when reenacting a past conversation. Usually followed with the response to said conversational dialogue in the form of "and she was all." I work at a high school. I couldn't have explained sophomore girls any better.

Anyway, I won't cause you to "bring a book" (bore you), so I will stop with all this "off the reservation"-ness (craziness), and let all you "homeskillets" (friends, homies) "hold it down" (to take care of oneself and/or one's surroundings in another's absense) while I go "slap in a a plasitc" (put in my contacts) so I can be "arm candy" (a remarkably attractigve person accompanying another lucky person) for my significant other. Hasta (by, see you later, adios).

Bleeding Love: Another English Lesson

So I am a SYTYCD fanatic. For those of you not in the know, I'm talking about So You Think You Can Dance. I love this show. It makes me wish I was skinny and a dancer. I could write a whole big long essay about why SYTYCD is SOOOO much better than American Idol, but I don't have the time, and I really don't want to right now. So instead, I am going to write an essay about how much I love this dance by Chelsie and Mark (btw: Chelsie is our own little Mormon girl hailing from Pleasant Grove. Go Chelsie!) So I Have spent the last four or five weeks watching this routine on that blessed invention called the DVR. I can't seem to get over it. Why? I don't know. Well, at least I didn't know until my brain started to get into school mode again over the last couple of weeks. It was only then I realized why I love this routine so much: it is a perfect example of great storytelling. You know me. I can't leave it at that. I have to explain. So, I hope you are ready for another English lesson....

There are three parts to a story: beginning, middle, and end, otherwise known as exposition, rising action, climax, and falling action. I know. This information blows my students away, too. There are very important things that need to happen in each section, and if these things don't happen, the reader (or the viewer, in this case) is left feeling unfulfilled. And we don't want that to happen, do we? Okay, so each part has a job. The beginning part of the story (aka EXPOSITION) has two important jobs: 1) introduce the audience to the main characters. This can be done in any way the author (or choreographer, director, etc) chooses. Most people prefer names and descriptions, but it doesn't always have to be this way. 2) The exposition also needs to pose the dramatic question. What is the dramatic question? Well, the dramatic question is a yes or no question that should arise in the audience's mind before they begin to move on to the rising action. The yes or no question gears the plot and keeps the readers reading. A few popular examples of dramatic questions for novels: will Gatsby end up with Daisy (The Great Gatsby)?, will Harry defeat Voldemort (every HP novel except Prisoner of Azkaban. This question is also the dramatic question for the whole series)? Will Bella and Edward stay together despite their differences (Twilight)? Will Bella and Edward get back together desite Jacob's love for Bella (New Moon)? Will Bella choose Edward over Jacob (Eclipse), and the dramatic question for the series is Will Bella Ever Become a Vampire? Depending on your view, Will Andie break Ben? Or Will Ben Break Andie (How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days)? These are all dramatic questions because they are yes or no, everything in the plot builds around these questions, they were posed in the beginning of the story, and these questions were answered at the climax of the story. See? It seems like an easy job for the exposition to do, but have you ever tried to write a story? The beginning is the most important part because if you have a crappy question that no one cares about, then you have a crappy story that no one cares about.

Once the dramatic question is established, the story moves on to the middle part of the story: the rising action and the climax. This takes up the bulk of the text. The job of the rising action is to take the characters through conflict after conflict, each one building on the last, each one giving the audience the information it needs to answer the dramatic question. Finally, where there have been so many conflicts, and the tension is at it's thickest, we reach the most important job of the middle part of the story: the climax. The climax is usually described as the most exciting part of the story. This is not true. The climax is simply the part where the dramatic question is answered: when the readers get to know whether Bella chooses Edward over Jacob (which, logically, I didn't agree with--but I'm an infertile Indian, so I'm biased. This is a whole different post), or whether Daisy actually chooses Gatsby (which she doesn't. Sigh. I'll have you, Jay Gatsby!) Then, once the dramatic question is answered, the story is almost done. It's just the falling action that needs to happen now.

The falling action (also called the dénouement) is where the story's loose ends are tied up. What happens now? Sometimes the falling action is quite long, like in the Great Gatsby, where the falling action is a chapter about Jay Gatsby's funeral. Sometimes it is very short, like in Gone With the Wind, when Rhett tells Scarlett that he doesn't give a damn (the climax) and then leaves, and all she says is, "I'll think about it tomorrow at Tara, after all, tomorrow is another day" (And the music swells, da daaaaa da da, da daaaaa da da). That one sentence is the whole falling action. Which is why we are all screaming for a real sequel, because that ending certainly wasn't satisfying. When most people die, they say they are going to talk to Joseph Smith first thing, or maybe Nephi. Not me. I'm making a bee line for Margaret Mitchell. I want to find out what REALLY happened between Rhett and Scarlett. But I digress. The point is, the falling action can be the smallest part of the book. But it too, is very, very important, mostly because it shows the change in the characters from the beginning of the book to the end, so the readers can see how it affected them, how they reacted to it, and ultimately, apply the story and the lesson to their own lives.

So why do I love the Bleeding Hear dance? Because, in the small amount of time, it has all three parts of a story, and the story is told beautifully. Let's watch, shall we (you can watch above. Just click, and here we go)? And then we'll do the fun stuff: analyze! YAY! Exposition: Okay, first, we see a shot of the two characters, back to back. This is our introduction. We can deduce a lot about who they are from their clothes. Mark, in the suit and the eternal part, is a business man. Chelsie, in a weird baby doll shirt and ugly jeans and shoes, is the significant other--I'm thinking a wife-type, because only wives allow the men they love to see them in a a get up like that. They are dancing together, in sync, which indicates to me that they are in a relationship that was very...beautiful in the beginning, but then...."Time starts to pass and before you know it you're frozen...." They point to their watches, and Mark picks up a briefcase BAM! Dramatic Question: Will he really leave her for his work? On to the rising action.

Rising action: There are several types of conflicts in literature. The most basic (and the most interesting if you want my opinion) is man vs man (or woman), and man vs. self. In this dance, we see both. First conflict: she wants him to stay. Easy enough. And he does, for a little while. Second conflict: They love each other, but he has to leave. This is both man vs. man, and man vs. self. You can see on his face, and the way that they did the little embrace walk across the stage that he isn't heartless. But he is torn between his love of a woman, and a his love of his career. Third conflict: She won't let him go. Both of their hearts are breaking. Fourth conflict: most of this is internal: she wants him to stay, he won't, and her heart is breaking. His is a little more complex. He wants to stay, but he can't. He is basically facing a tug-of-war between her and his job. And he can't decide. Look at the way he holds his head in the dance, up and down. That's a sign of indecision; a struggle between the two things he really wants. There is another huge conflict here: he tries to love her when he can, but she's so upset, she won't allow it. Watch when he face slides next to hers--she moves away. This is her inner conflict: does she just allow herself to be a back burner? She chooses no. And he feels rejected. So they turn away from each other, physically in the dance, which we all know signifies emotionally in the story. Then they face each other. They are doing the same dance, but they are moving in opposite directions. To me, this says they are both trying the best they know how, but the other person won't respond to their attempts. If she would only let him in, or if he would only listen for a minute, then things could be okay. But it's a no go; they just can't seem to get their lives to be in sync like they did at the beginning. As a result, another conflict arises: he begins manipulating her--using her as a object, not really seeing her as a person he loves, but more as a thing in his life that doesn't take priority in his work. Finally, the last straw? The climax, or the answer to our dramatic question: Will Mark really leave her for his work? They have one last moment of love, but the damage is done. Slowly, he takes her heart in his hand, and walks away. Yes. He will. And this leads us to the falling action.

Falling action: what happens next? Not much. She is morally crushed. Her heart is broken and she is permanently scarred. He just walks away. But wait…maybe it's a trick! He looks back! No. You cut me open. And he leaves. Story over.

Heartbreaking. I know. But that's why I love it! It follows the pattern of every great American novel: choosing prosperity over what really matters and what happens as a result. That's why we love these sad stories so much: because we can see ourselves in the characters, and the characters choose what we would never choose, and we get to see the result and learn from their mistakes. It's beautiful.

(p.s. if anyone knows how to use a VCR with a DVR to record shows, would you mind letting me know? I would love to use this lesson in Creative Writing)

Book Club

I've created a book club blog to keep people updated on what we're reading. Feel free to comment on the book, give suggestions about other books, and anything else! The link is on my link list

Are We There Yet?

Up until now I have been relatively quiet about everything that has been going on with Joe and me. I have hinted now and then to our fertility struggles, but I have kept most of the details quiet. Mostly this was because I don’t like the questions, I don’t like having to explain everything to everyone a million times, I don’t like people who are pregnant to feel like they can’t be excited for their own babies (just for the record, the more babies around that I can hold, the better :) ) and I don’t like people telling me how sorry they are. It makes me cry, and I don’t like crying for myself in front of people. But I know everyone is curious as a result of my cryptic hints, and I have selfishly allowed my dear best friend, Kristin, to answer everyone’s questions. So here’s the latest.

Joe and I both struggle with fertility issues. It took us four different doctors and a year and half to feel like we had answers; we had just figured that a few ovulation inducing drugs would fix me. The drugs were not fun, but I dealt with the hot flashes and the mood swings (actually Joe dealt with those) with what I consider some grace, and we decided we would begin Intra Uterine Insemination.

A lot of people get IUI mixed up with IVF (In Vitro Fertilization). The difference is that IVF is where the doctors extract the egg from the ovary and fertilize it in a Petri dish and then implant the healthy, fertilized embryos back into the uterus and hope for implantation. This procedure costs anywhere between $10,000 - $30,000. IUI, which is what Joe and I decided to try, is when the husband’s sperm is injected into the fallopian tubes with a syringe in a five minute procedure. It’s relatively painless (unless the nurse isn’t careful with those long beak-like things that open your cervix…OUCH!), and runs about $280.00 a pop.

Well, we’re not stupid. The money sounded much nicer with the IUI. At this point, I had stopped taking my medication because we were taking a short break, but I continued to have my period on a (semi) regular basis. I was thrilled because our chances of pregnancy without ovulation inducing drugs were higher (this is because Clomid reduces the quality of the egg. Normally, when you’re creating babies the old fashioned way, it’s not a problem. But with the insemination, the egg quality is an issue). So, with my periods regular, and some money saved up, we decided to move forward.

We did one insemination in February, then when it didn't work, we did a couple procedures to make sure my tubes weren’t blocked (they shoot dye up inside you. Not fun). We finally tried for a second time at the end of May. We hadn't had success yet, but we weren't discouraged. It is very rare to get pregnant the first few tries of IUI. We were getting ready to try again on Tuesday, (this week), but I felt that something was wrong. I was on cycle day 24. This is not normal. I called the nurse and asked her about it, and she wanted me to go in immediately to see what was going on.

To make a long story short, apparently I haven’t been ovulating, even though I have been having my period. I can’t figure that one out and the doctors don’t know, either. Obviously, this wasn’t working. So we had to decide how aggressive we wanted to get. Joe and I discussed it a long time ago that we would go as far as we could without IVF. I have heard that egg extraction is not a pleasant experience, and I don’t know if I really want to go through all of that.

So here’s the current decision: Once my period starts, I am going to start taking a different ovulation inducing drug called Femara (it’s actually for breast cancer, but the side effect is ovulation) for days 3-7 of my cycle. Then I am going to be giving myself FSH (follicle stimulating hormone) injections until day 12. This will cause my body to produce several follicles and allow them to grow until they are right for fertilization. Then on day 12, I will start going into the doctor’s office for blood tests and ultra sounds to see when the eggs are ready to be released. There is no telling how many times I will need to go in before it’s time. Then, when they doctor decides that the eggs are “ripe,” then I will give myself an HsG injection, which causes the eggs to be released from the ovary in exactly 36 hours, which is when I will go in AGAIN and be inseminated. It's a very long, time consuming process. And frustrating.

Here’s the scary thing: Ever heard of John and Kate plus 8? Know how they have sextuplets (that’s six babies at once)? Guess what fertility procedures they did? Yeah. The chances for multiples are very high. My doctor, who is an active LDS member, stops cycles if there are more than 3 babies. Thank goodness. So, if this works, this might be the only time we do this. Joe and I have already decided if we get more than one, then we are done.

So that’s it. That’s what’s going on. I just want to say that our struggles, in the fertility world, are fixable and small. There are options for us, and Joe and I feel strongly that the decisions we have made are the right decisions for us. We are also very optimistic about our prospects at this point. It has been a very hard road, but it’s not a dead end.

Joe said something the other day when I called and told him what was going on: he said, “Well, at least you’re not dying.” That really affected me. I’m not dying. I am a very healthy person, and so is Joe. This is sad, but it’s not the end of the world. When we were first venturing out on this crazy world of hormones and doctors, my dad and the bishop said the same thing, “It’s not the end of the world.”

I wanted to sock them in the nose.

It was the end of my world. But after two years, I realize it’s not. I still have Joe. I still have the gospel. I still laugh at funny things, and I still sing in my car. I’m not dead and the world is still turning. I have decided something within these last two years. I have decided that I have the choice: do I become bitter and feel sorry for myself? Or do I move forward, do what we can do, and enjoy life? I try really hard to be positive, and we try to cheer each other up on the really hard days. It’s a process. But right now we are seeing the end. We are only going to try this a few times. If it works, we will be ecstatic. If is doesn’t? Well….we’ve been there before. If there is one thing that I have learned in life, it is that you have to have a plan, and if that plan doesn’t work out, then you make another one. And when that one doesn’t work out, then you make another and another and another until you find a plan that gets you where you need to go. And once you get there, you don’t mind how many plans were discarded. You’re just glad you’re there.

I think we’re almost there.

I have been writing for the last hour. And it was beautiful. And then I lost everything I had written.

Tag I'm IT

So Emma tagged me, and I think I've already done this one, but no fear. I will do it again for the sake of friendship.

Twenty Years Ago...
1. I was six and getting ready to go to first grade. I don't really remember much about it, but I am sure I was excited. I was a school geek even then
2. I was living in Orem at 1214 N 1160 W and my phone # was 224-6812. Don't ask me how I still know all that.
3. Was trying desperately to play with my older sisters, who were trying desperately to get rid of me.

Ten Years Ago...
1. I had just finished me Sophomore year.
2. I had the biggest crush of my life, (an utter waste of time, and one of the biggest regrets of my life. Poor Emma. She had to hear all about it. I am sincerely and utterly sorry!)
3. I was living in Lehi. Lame. I know, but I can't think about anything that happened back then that didn't relate to #2. Pathetic. I know, I know. Remember how I said it was the bigget regret of my life?

Five Years Ago
1. I was taking some summer courses at UVSC so I could graduate in the spring of 2004.
2. I was starting to get really nervous for student teaching
3. I was attending the single's branch in Lehi--some of the best fun I ever had.

Three Years Ago
1. I was engaged, and counting down the days to my wedding! YAY! We even had a paper chain hanging across my cabinets for the countdown.
2. I had just finished my first year of teaching.
3. I was living in my condo, that I bought all on my lonesome the previous December. And I was kicking out my old roommate for my new one.

One Year Ago
1. I finished my third year of teaching at Lehi High
2. We went to Seattle for a week and ate at Iver's, the best seafood I've ever had in my life!
3. We got baby news that changed our lives forever

So far this year...
1. We are trying to have a baby--now with better chances than ever! Things are looking up.
2. I attended a conference in Park City that got me really excited about teaching.
3. I have not entirely enjoyed my calling with the 11 year old scouts.

Yesterday...
1. I slept in until 9:00
2. I did the dishes and folded laundry
3. I watched So You Think You Can Dance and rewound the Workaholic/Wife dance to the Leona Lewis song like fifity-twelve times. I LOVE DVR.

Today...
1. I just woke up
2. I have to go to weight watchers and weigh in. I am really scared because I ate so much of the yummy catered food last week in Park City.
3. I have to go to the gym...again. Why did Rory have to get married right now?
4. The results show for So You Think You Can Dance!!!

Tomorow...
1. I have to go the gym.
2. I should probably unpack from Park City
3. Is Friday! That means a whole weekend with Joe. And I will also have to start getting ready for the Lehi Roundup Saturday morning parade (it's become a tradition with my family. Joe even changed his work schedule because he wanted to go so bad. He's cute!)

In the next year...
1. I (hopefully) will finally get pregnant! (cross your fingers and say some prayers!)
2. The new high school will get finished and Lehi High will split and finally get some relief!
3. Start looking for houses, probably in Sandy or Riverton. If I had it my way, we would be going to Idaho or Montana...Sigh.

I tag...no one. Almost everyone I know has done this tag, so....you can do if if you want.

The Robber Bride by Margaret Atwood

So, as promised, I finished reading The Robber Bride a few days ago, and here is the reveiw.

First off, let me just say that I have only read two of Margaret Atwood's books, the aforementioned Handmaid's Tale, and now The Robber Bride. Atwood's style is very fluid, but not overly done. There is a lot of description, but not to the point where I get lost in it (most of the time). Ms. Atwood has this weird thing with words, though. For example, in Handmaid's Tale, the main character is constantly deconstructing words until they no longer have meaning. And in this book, one of the main characters, Tony (Antonia Fremont) is ambidexterous, so she reads words backwards. She calls herself Tmonerf Ynot. A little strange. But it's interesting. And this Atwood woman has a creepy ability to accuratly pin point the future. For example, near the beginning of the book, one of the characters, Roz, asks Tony if what she thinks about the war in Iraq (the setting is Canada in early 1990s--she's referring the Gulf War, not this war...whatever this one is about). Tony's response is that that long term consquences will in all eventuality lead to the downfall of the nation. Although I won't go so far as to say that our country is currently seeing a downfall, there is quite the economic strain...anyway, back the book.

So there are four main characters the book focuses around, all women. There is Tony, who is a Professor of History, specializing in battles and war. The description of Tony in the book reminds me of that lady on The Incredibles--you know, the one who makes the outfits? Or even that lady who with the really bad haircut who used to play one of the judges on The Practice. I'll see if I can find a picture. Found one. This is how I pictured Tony.
Anyway, that's Tony. Then, there is Charis (pronounced care-is), formerly knows as Karen. In the heighth of the hippy movement, Karen became Charis. She is a very Pheobe/Darma hippy-dippy person. Her story is the most...dark. Then there is Roz, a very large woman who is very loud, and very rich. Finally, there is Zenia. the one woman that brings all these other women together. It is because of Zenia that all of these women are friends, and it is Zenia whom all of these women hate.

The book begins with the women in a very strange bar for lunch, The Toxique. It is there that Tony, Charis, and Roz meet approximately once a month to discuss...whatever. More recently how glad they all are that Zenia is dead. And then, right in the midst of celebrating this woman's death (she's been dead about 5 years), Zenia walks in the door of The Toxique. It floors them. They leave. And then they all go home. And then the book begins.

The first story we hear about is Tony's, how she met and fell in love with her husband, how she was the first to be sucked into Zenia's spell, and Zenia hurt her. Then we move to Charis's story: her childhood, her mother, her grandmother, what happened to make her the way she is, her life with her live-in boyfriend, and her friendship with Zenia. And how Zenia ruined her life. And then we move on to Roz, her marriage, her youth, her college days, and her friendship with Zenia. And how Zenia ruined Roz's husband. And then the end.

The ending is about how each of these women cope with this force, this woman who exists only in kinky spy movies, this woman who seems to know everyone's vulnerability, a woman who uses and discards without a thought. A woman who is both abhorred and irresistable to men and women alike for reasons which are unknown. Zenia is an enigma.

I was totally engaged in this book. Even though I got lost in a lot of Tony's war babble, I found myself being sucked in, and almost sympathetic to Zenia, but I was even more committed to Tony, Charis (even though she was very strange) and Roz. Three women who were of the baby boom, came to adulthood in the sixties, and have lived through Zenia to tell the tale. I would say that this book is one of the really good, intellectual books that I have read so far, but it was still entertaining. My brain has kind of shut off right now, so I bet there was a lot of symbolism, extra meaning, and sense to be made out of this book that I have missed, but even with out all of that literary nonsense, the book was just good entertainment. I recommend it. But, like I said last time. A few F words here and there, medium sexual content, and adult themes. Probably a PG-13. But very, very good.