Henriette
It’s been a while since I wrote about Henrie’s milestones, and since this blog really the only baby book I have for her, I’d better catch up:
- Words: Since Christmas, Henrie’s language has really begun to unfold. About two months ago, we started hearing her string together words. “Come here.” “Sit down.” “Baby sad?” In Salida, I heard her form her longest sentence (of sorts) yet. “Daddy ball up in sky?” (Daddy, will you throw the ball up in the sky?) Just last night, Henrie said, “Margot read book?” Her vocabulary, of course, is also growing. She tries out words and many of them sound the same. “Jacket,” “Airplane,” “Oscar,” “Snack,” and “Hungry,” for example, all sound pretty similar. Nevertheless, she’s communicating, and I love being able to look into her little face as she earnestly repeats the same unintelligible word, over and over again. “Ball?” “Potty?” “Snack?” I say, guessing. Finally, if it’s really important, she’ll take my hand and lead me somewhere.
- Learning: Last week, Henrie and I picked out a potty, big girl undies, a stool, and a red plastic ball with a LED light inside that flashes on impact. The final item is unrelated, of course, but boy, does this little girl love chasing a flashing light incased in a red ball. Anyway, that first night, she went on the big girl potty twice, and since then, she’s pulled off nearly three whole days spent entirely in big girl undies. Diapers? So passé, she says. Of course, I’m still putting her in them overnight and during longer trips out and about. Her school can’t transition her quite yet, either. But she’s made it through nap and even on stroller-runs without an accident. Before we had purchased the potty, Henrie had used the big girl potty with success probably a dozen times, and she would frequently ask. I was beginning to think that she might just take up the potty without mishap, but pooping has proved to be a bit more challenging than peeing. I could tell that she needed to, but every time we tried, it just wouldn’t come… Until I saw Henrie crouching in the corner, looking a little shocked. We also had a little accident at my birthday dinner where she may very well have told us that she needed the potty, but I just wasn’t paying attention.
- Preferences: Would you believe that in five months that have passed since I weaned Henrie, she’s asked to nurse every day? Well, it’s true. Thankfully, she says it with a little smirk, and when I tease her that she’s being silly, she laughs. She’s still a hand-down-the-shirt kind of girl, and when mommy’s not around, daddy’s will do. So much for my devious plan to have her forget the boob and all of it’s glory before Billie comes along… I’m afraid we may have some heartbreak yet. Other than boobs, Henrie loves kitties (hence her kitty-themed birthday party), Cameron (her best friend at school), pulling wagons and pushing strollers, grocery shopping, “bar bars” (Lara Bars and Kit’s Organic Cliff Bars are our favorite), reading, and going to “Margot’s house.” In terms of food, she loves fish, asparagus, rice, SOUR CREAM (which she’ll eat by the fistful, if you’re not careful), cheese, bananas, oatmeal, egg whites (but not yolks, yet), tomatoes, kombucha (“Bucha?”), sparkling water, and almond milk. She’s such a dairy fiend that it’s hard to keep her away, but she takes after the As, so we try to limit her dairy intake. The girl produces phlegm like it’s her job. Henrie’s other preferences are appearance based. She likes piggies and ponies, but some days she prefers to wear her hair down. Don’t worry, she’ll let you know. When it comes to dressing, she’s got ideas of her own, and sometimes mommy’s ideas are DEFINITELY not what she had in mind. She loves all of her doting grandparents, music, dancing, drawing, and being outside. She loves smelling flowers, and she’s terrified of bees (been stung three times in her short life, poor girl). She has an endearing love for cards, and she likes to fall asleep holding her sippy cup, a book, and either Curious George or one of her kitties.
- Oof: Henrie is a pretty easy-going little lady. She smiles a lot, and she’s very sweet. While she certainly enjoys testing some boundaries, she’ll often clean, share, and walk to bed all by herself, even when she doesn’t want to. I think our most difficult moments are mostly after nap, when she’s feeling particularly grumpy and sensitive. Eating hasn’t been a smooth road, either. Henrie’s not terribly picky, but it’s tempting to capitulate to her preferences, rather than try to get her to taste and appreciate other things. We’re trying, but we’ve definitely made some mistakes. Around Christmas, I would have said that my biggest struggle with Henrie was her rejection. She went through a phase where it felt like she wanted very little to do with me, but thankfully, that’s mostly passed. Now, I think our biggest battle is sickness. Poor little Henrie has had either a cold or an ear infection for nearly three months now, and she’s projectile vomited all night long twice now. As you can imagine, it’s been hard for Henrie, but it’s also been hard on us. I feel like she’s had a cough forever now, and some days I’m convinced that my body will just cease to work on so little sleep. But it keeps working, and Henrie keeps coughing and her nose keeps dripping… Oh lord. It’s a crucible. I think I’ve narrowed down the vomiting to a garlic sensitivity, and yesterday, we went to the doctor and they prescribed a low-grade steroid inhaler to reduce inflammation in Henrie’s lungs (plus did a swab for pertussis). All I know is that after the trauma of giving Henrie her inhaler last night, she slept without coughing the whole night, and I woke up this morning feeling like God had personally decided to give me a reprieve and allow me to live for another day.
- Size: While I can’t remember exact numbers, Henrie is in the top tenth percentile for height and fiftieth percentile for weight (28 lbs. as of yesterday). Her hair is getting longer and longer, and some days she looks so much like a little girl and so little like the newborn I can barely remember that it makes my heart stop.
Pregnancy
It’s been a while since I’ve updated the blog with anything pregnancy related. I’ve been better this time around taking the occasional bump photo, which I’m sure you can see in my little Instagram widget on the bottom right column. The belly continues to grow, and while I initially found the ease with which my belly popped out for all the world to see a little alarming, I’m feeling a little more calm now that I only have eight weeks left until our due date. The belly is a sizeable thing, but not of epic proportions.
My legs, though. Those are epic. Somewhere around 18 weeks, varicose veins began popping out on my left leg, and since then, it’s evolved into one purple, gnarly mess. By mid-morning, my ankles are a thing of the past, and my calves are hard as rocks. The bruise-like veins have spread down to my foot and all the way up to my knee. It’s not attractive, but it is a little impressive.
Billie had the hiccups for the first time a couple of weeks ago, and her kicks are now just below my ribs. For some reason, I got the impression the first time around that Henrie would be this fiery little lady, because her kicks were so adamant and powerful. Billie, on the other hand, is a gentle mover. She moves frequently, but I joke that she doesn’t want to hurt me :)
I’m thinking more and more now about labor and a newborn. I’m glad I took a break from nursing, because now I miss it, and I’m looking forward to it again. As for labor, I feel wizened. I’m going to try my best to got without medication, but I also know that if I hit the 30 hour mark again, I will probably do the same thing I did last time. Only this time I won’t beat myself up about it. I am nervous about tearing again. Oof.
As for dreams of a newborn, I spend a lot of time thinking about carrying her close to my chest and wrapping her snuggling in swaddling blankets. But then I think about summertime in Colorado, and I think she’ll probably just be naked most of the time.
House
Oh my. We closed in mid-March. Since then, Joshua has: demoed the entire basement to get advice from a structural engineer, rewired the entire house, reinforced the mud-room floor, ripped up all the pergo, covered the walls in texture, painted the bedroom and living room, built a privacy deck out back, and installed an entire Ikea kitchen, including appliances, lights, and a breakfast bar. He’s hired help to dig culverts for water diversion, lay concrete for a new walkway and sidewalk, add plumbing to the kitchen and mudroom, restore all of the painted-shut, broken sashed windows, and install new gutters.
Papa Tim came out to help this past weekend, and they were able to get quite a bit done, but Joshua’s had less help than last time, so most nights he heads over after dinner and doesn’t come back until midnight. And that’s after a full work day.
Yet to do: paint the hall, Henrie’s bedroom, the sunroom, and the kitchen. Install cabinet fronts to the kitchen. Install Ikea bathroom. Lay floor in the bathroom and kitchen. Wire the lights and chandeliers I bought off of eBay. Move in. All by the second weekend of May.
To do once we’ve moved in: finish up odds and ends at Gray. Build out mudroom and craftroom with storage and floors. Landscape the pile of rubble that is our front yard. Begin work on the front porch for at least a little curb appeal.
To do in the next couple of years: install a fireplace. Refinish the basement into another living room, bathroom, guest room, and storage closet/work space. Install structural supports. Put in access to the enormous attic and finish into another bedroom, walk-in closet, and master bathroom. Lay a patio in the small backyard for barbeques.
Joshua’s lofty goal: build a carriage house out back for rent.
Does it make you tired just reading about it? We miss Joshua.
Teaching
There are five and a half weeks left. We’re in our final unit, and I’ve just completed my final round of formal observation and evaluation.
It’s hard to believe that I’ve been teaching for five years. It feels like a good year to end on: a nice counting number and my best year of teaching. Not to mention the five-year loan forgiveness that will virtually erase the last of my student-loan debt.
So this is the story of Ms. A, in a nutshell:
- Before it all began: In the Spring of 2007, I applied for a recruiter position within Teach For America. I was hired, and my official title was “Campus Campaign Coordinator.” Way back then, my main motivation for applying was the CCC the year before me. Her name was Alex, and she was a religion major with an art history minor. I thought she was fun, and I was completely enamored with her plans to go teach in New York City. After I was hired, I read Savage Inequalities and One Day. I was definitely drawn to the message, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t first drawn to the idea of having a job right away and going on a new adventure.
- Accepted: In the Fall, I was accepted with the first wave of applications, and both Joshua and I were placed in New Orleans and slated to teach middle school science. Figuring, I better acquire some experience, I continued haranguing the rest of the my class to apply, signed up for two science classes my spring semester, and began working at a Montessori.
- Institute: Teach For America held an intensive training for all incoming corps members. We were in Phoenix, and we spent 14+ hours a day learning about teaching, teaching, and preparing to teach the next day.
- Year One: I was hired at Schwarz Academy, a for-profit charter school run by Camelot. What a crazy year. There were nine corps members on staff, and eight of us were first years. Camelot was hired by the RSD to run the alternative school, and we had a constantly changing roster of students who had been expelled from other schools in the district. That first year, students died. One was shot by the police, others were shot by rival “cliques.” Some students were convicted of murder. One student was shot multiple times in the gut and would wear a colostomy bag for the rest of his life. My eighth grade students ranged in age from 12 to 17. Some had tattoos on their faces, some had babies, and some were pregnant. Many used. Most lived in projects. That first year, the police were called onto campus 52 times, and during the second semester, we never made it to fifth period. We “locked down” after fights, and my main job was to keep students inside a classroom without water or a bathroom for multiple hours a day. We had limited electricity and few resources, and the Camelot infrastructure was incredibly corrupt.
- Year Two: Schwarz was closed, and I was reshuffled into Excel Academy, the RSD run alternative school. I taught Art and Spanish. While less violent than our first year, the second was just as hopeless. Our principal quit mid-year, and another principal was never hired. Students dropped in and dropped out, died, and had babies. One student used a screwdriver to stab another student in my classroom, and I was called into court to testify. My students threatened to rape and brutally murder me every day.
- Year Off: After two years of heartache and trauma, Joshua and I took a year off to travel the world.
- Year Three: Joshua and I somewhat randomly selected a state on the map. We choose Colorado. On the charter school website, we found job openings, and we each applied to five of them. Within a week, we had interview offers from almost all of them. After a visit to Denver, we chose West Denver Prep. Joshua taught at one campus, while I taught at another. In many ways, this was really my first year of teaching. I knew how to endure abuse, but I had no idea how to manage a classroom or write a curriculum. Behavior was still a struggle, and it was a tough year.
- Year Four: I stayed at the same school, teaching sixth grade science for a second year. I gained confidence with management, and I grew to really enjoy writing curriculum. Behaviors were still challenging, but I saw growth in many of my students.
- Year Five: In my third year at the same school, the administration turned over, and I had the strongest managers yet. We held fast to Teach Like A Champion practices and executed a level of consistency I hadn’t seen before. As a result, there were barely any behavioral problems. I spent the majority of my time and energy on academics, and I saw incredible growth in my students. I liked my coworkers.
It’s strange that in my best year of teaching that I also realized that I no longer wanted to teach. It’s as though I had been hoping it would get better, and when it did, I was finally able to see the pieces that weren’t for me. Lost in my nutshell are the sagas around licensure and pay, and these also contributed to my loss of love for the profession. Despite having taught for five years and having seen impressive and measurable growth in my students, I am not a certified teacher, and in most states, that would mean another 18 months of school, including six months of student teaching. As for pay, my network implemented merit-based pay in my fourth year of teaching, and despite policies they have since agreed were unfair and have laid to rest, I was, in a word, screwed. I now make less money than I did my first year of teaching.
In the end, I find that teaching is both meaningful and demanding. I believe in what I do; I care about the students; and I’m thankful for the many, many, many things I have learned. I was so green when I started. I hadn’t a clue about race or hardship or accountability or what it meant to be an adult. I’m certain I’ve learned more than I taught any student. This is meaningful. And yet, I find the demands are too much. Many hours, little pay, and the highest of expectations leave me feeling absolutely trampled by May. I just don’t love it enough to give it what it requires. I’ve felt my creativity leak out of me and a hard-scrabble determination take it’s place. I guess that could sound like a good thing, but it’s put lines around my eyes and bent my spine into a permanent curve. I’m so tired, and the end is never, ever in sight. I’m so tired, and I will never, ever be good enough.
Part of me is afraid that I’ll leave and come back, and another part of me is afraid that I’ll leave and never come back. I don’t want to teach, but I don’t want not to teach, either. So I’m going to try something else. ‘Cuz like my wake up call said, “Good Morning Ellison. Lead the life you wish to live, for there is no other. If not now, then when?”
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