Quiz Delay Tactic (or You Look Huge)

I show up looking pregnant during every hour that I teach these days. It's been no surprise that I am with child. This week one of my Honors 9 classes bombarded me with questions. It was the Great Vocab Quiz Delay Tactic.

The first minute of class sounded like:

Can you see your feet?

Do you sleep on your stomach?

What happens if you sleep on your stomach?

Can you bend over?

Doesn’t that squish the baby?

Doesn’t that hurt the baby?

Can you go swimming?

Doesn't that drown the baby?

Why can’t I tell you that you look huge?

Aren’t you due soon?

Are you scared to have a baby?

Oh, dear.

Here's a Scantron form, children. It's the last quiz (for them) of the year. Probably not the last interrogation for me.

Guest Blog: Motherhood Memories by Jean Ann

Here's the first (of many??) guest blog posts; this one is from my Great Aunt Jean Ann. She is really great and raised really, really great sons. Thanks for reading, responding and contributing to our blog!



MOTHERHOOD MEMORIES

I can't recall the "firsts" instead I recall the fondest, tenderest and most amusing moments that stand out above the rest, not necessarily the ones I valued at the moment but they have taught me the most about not taking things too seriously. I vividly remember their expressions, precious and uninhibited personalities. Life is a mirror to laugh at ourselves and value the laugh lines.

Kids cause gray hair :-( and laugh lines :-) Each are earned.

 Here goes: a potpourri of memories from my darling boys at different ages and times in their pre school and early elementary school years. Parenting is fun.

My 7 yr old son proudly presented me with his very carefully hand made Mother's Day card written in his best handwriting: the front cover presented a "Happy Mother's Day" with a hand illustrated happy : )) mother. Inside his very carefully thought and after-thought verse read, "To the best Mother I know, but you're the only mother I know." His intelligence had a way of debating his own thoughts!!! What a dear. I remember his precious honesty, wit and clever thoughtfulness. Not bad for a little 7 yr old.
"Mom, do you like crock pots?" from one of my little ones instantly upon returning from a top secret Mother's Day shopping mission. Kind of reminds me of this little girls' attempt to keep her Mother's Day gift a secret, too.

BEWARE of SHARE and TELL/Avoid it at any cost!!!

My very creative son, a little first grader had just received a red plastic tape recorder from Santa. Finding ways to use it was definitely a top priority!! The boys all had their bedrooms and bathroom upstairs. The NIGHTLY bedtime routine was predictable and so was I. They ran back and forth from their bedrooms and to the bathroom to play in the water. After my many commands to go to bed, I yelled upstairs to "GO To BED", which set this taping incident up perfectly! Imagine a young child calculating this entire incident!!! Clever, bright young child. He proudly took it to Share and Tell with a very Important recording. "This is how my mom sounds when she yells at us to GET TO SLEEP!!! He proceeded to play the tape!! Many of my friends had children in the same grade and were bursting with amusement as they retold the story to me at a later date. I guess at least it didn't end like this kid's show and tell experience.

Another son in nursery school was gathered with his class in a semi circle on the floor for their annual Christmas party. As the class sang the required songs he was oblivious to the program agenda and focused on clapping (rock style) to the beat of the music..Christmas carols, no less.

A classic hunting season trophy appeared once at show and tell. When it was my son's turn to share he eagerly went to the cloak room where his book bag which held any little boys dream.... A bloody deer head and antlers in tack that he retrieved from the alley garbage as they walked en route to school. He shared it in living color and that he was planning to take it after school to a merchant who paid for deer hides, etc. By the time school was out for the day, not only was the cloak room rank, so was our car upon delivering it to the merchant!!

Might have been just as messy.

I've discovered life doesn't turn out the way I plan, but the way it is suppose to turn out, even the sharpest and deepest pain of all. Motherhood is about imparting our best with love and acceptance and leaving the rest. Hang on and enjoy the ride!!!

Motherhood advice: enjoy the ride.

 With much love,
Auntie Jean Ann

Calling a Truce

Mother's Day.


One year ago today, I cried in church thinking about women, mothers, and motherhood.


This year has given American women many reasons to cry. We live in a time when society doesn't vocally appreciate the people who hold up half the sky.

• Politicians want to regulate women's reproductive systems.
• They want to make policies restricting our access to health care--including access to mammograms, cancer screenings, contraceptives and reproductive counseling.
• They propose forcing women to have internal ultrasounds during procedures. (Apparently it doesn't matter if you feel uncomfortable having a giant dildo shoved up your vagina. It also doesn't matter if you've been sexually abused, raped or traumatized.) 



Look how much progress we've made towards gender equality.

• There were no women on the board to address Congress on the issues of women's healthcare. (However, there was a Catholic priest. Makes sense, right?)
• Talking heads call us sluts if we stand up for the right for women to have choices about their bodies (whether or not we take advantage of those choices makes no difference to them).

• When/if we take maternity leave, it is called "disability leave."
• In the U.S., women are paid for six weeks of maternity leave--and that's only because the medical community agrees that it takes that long for our bodies to heal. (Not because that is what is best for women or babies.)
• Politicians and others question the validity of having policies that ensure women receive equal pay in the workplace. (BTW, research shows that women DON'T receive equal pay now, even with current policies in place.)
• There are women who have publicly said that they think that women shouldn't have the right to vote--that things would be better if women didn't vote (one of those women: Ann Coulter).
• Businesses and the public put limits on breastfeeding mothers.
• And, this week Time magazine's cover article challenges some women's stance on breastfeeding and parenting.



How "Time" mag honors women this week.

 
These are only the incidents from the top of my head about how women have been treated over the course of this year in the United States. It makes me sad to see that "Mommy Wars" that started in the 1970s, when a majority of Americans feared that working mothers were a threat to domestic/social stability, are still going on. According to a Pew survey in 2009, that is no longer the case; 80% of Americans think that the presence of women in the workforce has been a positive development. (The number was higher among the younger generation.) The War on Mothers had diversified to include issues well beyond the workforce. Some continuing to pit women against men and women against women.

There appears to be a few solutions: 

• Men and women should take equal responsibility for protecting women's rights and the rights of children
• Men should take responsibility for their children (including childcare and parenting)
• Americans should have more parental leave/child care policies
• Politicians should reflect and rely on research) on policies protecting women to see if there is a reason to change/adjust (I know, relying on research is so radical!)
• Women should support each other
• Call a truce on Mommy Wars.

Peace to all women today. May you be loved, cherished, and honored for the power that you hold within you. May you always know: you are woman enough. You are amazing--and you deserve to know and experience that every single day of the year.

The bottom of the "to-do" pile

Once the big D-day passed successfully, I was able to get focused on the "to-do" pile. It included all sorts of items from November to May. And it needed attending to.
I came across a few items that are worth posting here.


When I told my ninth grade students I was pregnant (months ago when I sometimes wore maternity clothes for novelty, not necessity), I gave them an opportunity to suggest names for our un-gender-fied infant. Here are a couple of keepers:

Leo Nardo, Caleb Achmed, Bon qui qui (got several votes), Purpledrankisha, and Kool-aid Yum!    YIKES!


Several students suggested we name our child after them. (Obviously, Caleb had second thoughts.) Jeremy Johnson prefers that we choose his name over his second suggestion: Lebron.

There were two girls who had LISTS of name suggestions. (Do they tote these around with them in their school planners?? ) A few had heart-dotted i's--is that necessary? Really? One wondered if I was opposed to a Hmong name before he suggested Pazong, meaning sweet flower. 


I don't know that it helped us get to any final choice, but it did give us a few laughs and a great conversation about 14 year-olds.


And, for the record, I think we've chosen first names. (The reason I say "I think" is because I did think that we had settled on names about a month ago, then Dan rescinded his vote on the girl name. We went back to the drawing board. I'm going to be prepared for any changes by keeping the conversation between Dan and me.) The debate still continues about the middle names, so I am keeping my lips zipped about any of it.


The world will know soon enough.

Childbirth class, part deux: It gets better

Update: Thursday's childbirth class 
When the instructor asked if there was anything surprising we had learned last week, I admitted I had resisted. I had had an internal freak out. I didn't want to go through labor and delivery. I fully confessed.
After that, it got better.


I was able to talk about pain management with Dan. I was able to relax when we did breathing exercises, ball exercises and massage. I was able to tell Dan what was working and what wasn't. And, towards the end of class, the instructor said she didn't really want to make me move because I looked totally relaxed.
Success.


Friday I met with my OB and gave her the scoop about my freak out and about what I knew now. Dan and Ann Marie were going to be my support team--they were going to squeeze my hips and count my breaths. They were going to get me through this.
I told Dr. Kelin that I don't really want drugs, but I don't want to get stuck either. I told her I was interested in the narcotics, if I needed them, and I want to get as far into the process as I can without an epidural. BUT, that she should be ready with it. If I had listened to myself in that moment, I would have been proud. I think I probably sounded pretty sure of myself. I know I felt pretty sure about it.
(Come to think of it, I also told her how I felt about the blood thinner plan. I actually felt like a consultant in my own healthcare plan. I think we're going to avoid the switch to heparin for as long as possible. Maybe even after 36 weeks. Kelin is going to double check with perinatalogy to be sure.)
If I were Wile E. Coyote this week, I think I might have looked a little more like this:



That's quite a shift from last week! Only one more week of class--I'm hoping to continue moving through these spaces using the Art of Zen.

The birth of one baby

My paper baby was born!
On May 1, my facebook status read:
My paper baby weighed in at 5.65 pounds. Baby was delivered safely and mom is healthy and happy. She'll wear her gown in three weeks.

I didn't report its length. I guess I knew my audience included several people who were in the middle of their own labors of love and didn't want to shock them by announcing that my paper baby measured in at 227 pages. 

Just moments after I got to hold it, I delivered it to the School of Education at Hamline University and took its photo:

My paper baby. My paper, baby!

Then, just like that, it was gone. )How quickly they grow up to live on their own shelves in the library. ;-))

I have to say that it was just as satisfying to shake the administrative assistant's hand as it was to get the acceptance of my committee members and adviser. I think because it was official: I was done.

People comment about how great this accomplishment is. Some even say that they don't think they could do it themselves. I guess I tend to believe I can do anything I set my mind to do. My mom, godmother and family friend do physical challenges every year--usually biking, but we did go dogsledding. I think skydiving is also on the agenda. I climbed down and out of the Grand Canyon in one day (not recommended by me--or anyone!). I ran in a marathon relay with my cousins. It's all doable. 

The secret is discipline and perseverance--and having an amazing support team. I purposely chose my committee members with the intention that the process be efficient, thoughtful, thorough and FUN! And, it was. 

First of all, we met in a kitchen in a house owned by the university. A kitchen. So, we always had tea and I always brought freshly baked goods from Dan's kitchen. I have a friend who offices in the upstairs of the house where my committee's meetings were held. She said she knew my meetings must have been going well, but was surprised about how much laughter there was. My team asked great questions. All. The. Time. They gave me great feedback. All. The. Time. (Especially when I was able to point out a few areas that I wanted specific feedback on.) They were committed to getting me through the process--maybe even just as much as I was committed. It truly was an amazing team effort. I couldn't have asked for a better experience.

Last summer my adviser and I talked about how most people have such a difficult time somewhere during the process. She said some people aren't willing to listen, some people don't want to change anything, some people aren't open to feedback, etc. She warned that there would be a time when I would want to strangle her. That time never came. There was only one evening when I had a breakdown. (And, I could recognize that it was because of unmet expectations and thwarted intentions. Heartbreak, man.)

Here's the moment I cried:

When I couldn't get pagination to begin on page 3.

That was it. My meltdown was not because of the other 232 pages, the months of data collection, months of revision, hundreds of edits, or multiple drafts. It was because of formatting. Jesus. Mary. Joseph.

And, with six days before D-Day I had one more moment of panic. My adviser was concerned about how many revisions I would need to make to the final draft. She didn't think I could get it finished before the May 2 deadline. However, those tears were quick. I realized that she had read a draft from three days prior. (I thought she had accessed my draft from "the cloud," and knew there was a lot to work on in the one she had read. That was why I had locked myself in to work on it three days in a row!) I didn't have the heart to tell her. I just powered through, sending her a few things every day for her approval. Four days before D-Day, she said she was surprised at how quickly I was getting things done. I still didn't have the heart to tell her. My paper was completed on Monday, printed at FedEx on Tuesday morning, and delivered Tuesday at noon. One day to spare.

After shaking hands with the admin. assistant, I picked up my regalia at the bookstore. The next evening, Dan unpacked my tam, hood, and gown. And reenacted graduation scenarios in the living room:

What I may or may not look like at commencement.

I think both of us are ready for new chapters in our lives. 

Aunts Unite

I have always felt blessed to have aunts. When I was in elementary school, I idolized my high school-aged aunt. I have very vivid memories of watching her putting on her make-up, doing her hair (which probably took awhile, it was the 80s, after all), and rocking out to Madonna, John Couger Mellencamp, Tina Turner, Cyndi Lauper and this group singing this tune. I thought it was cool to have an aunt who was a teacher, one who was a dental hygienist, one who was a nurse--I loved them all.
That sentiment didn't and doesn't change--no matter how old I am. And, since I was the first granddaughter on the Keeling side of the family, everyone seems to remember my arrival. Well, I mean who doesn't remember when a child is born with this much hair?

I will admit I looked vaguely like one of these, but I won't tell you which one.

Perhaps my aunts remember, in the same way I do, how grandkids change the family dynamic forever. (I mean, Nick and I got to eat sugared cereals, take ice cream runs to the Taystee Freeze, eat french fries at McDonald's and get as many hugs as we wanted.) Nothing is better than being loved by so many wonderful women.

I am glad to say that that didn't change when I got older.

And, a few weeks ago I got to spend an afternoon surrounded by the love of these amazing people. My Godmother organized a shower in our honor. I was so moved by their generosity and presence. After one round of hugs, I remember rubbing my belly saying to the baby, "look at all of these people who love you so much already." I'll probably never forget that feeling--of being in a room of people who gathered together to love and support a tinylittleperson who has yet to take a breath in the world. I also remember a clear moment of clarity--when all the little alphabet blocks were stacked up in a Jenga-like fashion--that if anything ever happened, these would be women I could count on to support me through the tough times, too.  It was really powerful being present to every moment that afternoon.

My thank you cards could never ever everevereverever convey how much I appreciated their showering of love that afternoon--and always. As we welcome our baby into the world with smiles:

A beautiful quilt gifted from Godmother Barb includes a rendition of our family.

I can only hope that this Babe can know the love of aunts in its life as I have known in mine. 

I am think the Keller girls are waiting impatiently in the wings. ;-)

How will a tinylittleperson change this crew?