Y'know, for the name of our soon-to-be born child. (Not so soon that I'm in labor or anything, just soon as in: Behold the passage of time!)
Interestingly enough, we've not really gotten any name suggestions for our kid. Nor have many people speculated on the sex of the babe--at least, not to us. This could be for any number of the following reasons:
We care, of course. And that's why we found out. We decided not to tell anyone (except for our doctor) because we thought it would be nice to have something about this baby all to ourselves for awhile. I have to admit that it's gotten much harder to keep the secret as the pregnancy has progressed. Not because we're dying to tell, but because we refer to the baby by pronoun and by name. It'd be pretty anticlimatic if we let it slip now that we're in the anyday range, so we're sticking to our plan. We like the plan. But we'll like the baby even better, I think.
In other news: my hematocrit is officially going up, as proven by last week's blood draw. My doctor also had my iron stores checked: down 50% since July! So I'll be on the increased iron dosage until at least six weeks post-partum but should continue to feel better and better. My cheeks were rosy yesterday, rosy!
Along with that pleasant news, let it also be known that today is officially Day One of maternity leave. Okay, okay, it's only sort of Day One kinda like how my sabbatical was a shambbatical. But only because I have about 8-12 hours worth of paperwork/project documentation to complete. My last class was on Wednesday and no amount of paperwork can change that truth. It's really wonderful to wake up in the morning without a sense of reluctance or anxiety due to any impending projects.
Work-related, that is: our apartment is still in a state of "wait, you live here?" but there are signs that cozy homeiness is coming to stay.
And if the baby comes before we're finished? How could I even be bothered to care? A whole person trumps displaced knickknacks.
Get 'em now before they run out!
I'm personally planning on using them for birth announcements. What could be a better combination of civic duties?
At several points today I wanted to toss several people into a single burlap bag and then chuck the thing into the river. (Which river? Mmmm, we'll say the Chicago.)
I realized, though, that instead of making me feel better that image just served to make me madder as the day went on. Clearly, the one week until maternity leave can't come soon enough. Did I perhaps schedule too many things right at the end? Apparently, even though I thought I was being all smart about it. (Which I wasn't, because even though my last day of contact hours is the 21st I realized today that I still have paperwork to turn in that probably won't all be complete until December 1st. Pretty familiar complaint of mine, yes, I know. La de dah.)
You know what always cheers me up? Remembering that either this or this is being aired.
And here's a link to a segment that made me laugh out loud for at least twenty seconds once it hit the end. Yellow Dog can confirm this dorkitude behavior on my part. (Oh, we haven't hit my box of photographs yet, but I happen to know that there is a picture of 11-year-old me reading OMNI on the couch whilst sporting a shiny pink quilted robe.)
I don't know if providing that video link means that I'm scabbing the writer's strike, but I do know it is time to make a sandwich.
YUM.
Yellow Dog and I cleared out our storage unit last weekend, which means that this weekend we're going through all of the boxes of things we thought were important to save.
It's taking awhile.
One thing found among his items: a poster-sized enlargement of a behind-the-scenes photograph of the improv group he was in (and founded, I believe) in college called "Laffsnax."
I made fun of him (rightfully so).
But of course I was just reminded that I was in a sketch comedy group. I was reminded of this because I went through a folder titled "college" and found four programs. Note the theme in my bios:
"She can hash your browns!"
"knows Hanes is not just underwear."
"refuses to be a hot, steaming bowl of oatmeal."
"Mmm...this is good, I'm gonna save some of this for later."
I do believe that these are the equivalent of the facial hair Yellow Dog sported in the giant photograph.
Fair enough.
Just what I needed: another procrastination tool for Good.
That title is a lie. For I am not cheering at all today. I am barely cheery. Cheerful is out entirely...but I'm going to do some complaining, so maybe that will cheer me up and then I'll take a nap.
Dear Food Diary,
You're the only one who understands me.
I'm sick (that cold just pretended to go away), five people called me between 9:30-10am and left messages that I couldn't retrieve because my voice mail wasn't working, then my doctor called and said my hematocrit was lower than the last super-anemic iron results so she ordered more tests to find out why I'm not absorbing iron properly, and then my voice mail did start working and I had to call back the dentist to tell them that I'd gotten the reminder call about my appointment on Monday that I already knew about (and did I tell you that I had to go back to the endodontist to clean out the partially completed root canal again?), and then I had to talk to Eeyore. Oh, and the whole house smells like salmon and it is making me want to throw up because fish is the only thing that made me sick during my first trimester that I haven't been able to reclaim even though I keep thinking it'll be okay. Plus, I've already read all of the books in the joint.
Actually, that iron thing--maybe you don't understand me. Because if you did, why aren't you helping me? My blood was, like, Kool-aid colored yesterday (cherry, not Purplesaurus Rex or something) and I really think you should be doing something about that.
awaiting your reply,
Ida
Huh. That did actually help a little bit. But so did some of the other phone calls: one from dancer brother about Winesap apples and how they really do taste exactly like the apples from our Grandmother's orchard and another from neck brace wearing brother about Thanksgiving plans. So those things are good. Very good. (Unless you factor in that our Grandmother's orchard was plowed under by one of our uncles and that my neck brace wearing brother went rock climbing the other day and jumped off an eight-foot, uh, rock shelf as a "test" because he's excited about getting rid of the neckbrace, but I'm not counting those things, okay?)
I am grateful that in the midst of a bunch of crap that a little love always sneaks its way in. It's pretty darn nice--and I know there is just more to come on that front while all of the complain-y stuff is fleeting.
...but don't you want to know more about Eeyore? Of course you do! Get this: she got in some kind of fight with the head teacher of the preschool on the island and so is not going there anymore and instead wants to complete her hours with me at an entirely different daycare where she's never been but at which her daughter works. Is this a good idea? Uh, no...but mostly because of who she is. Did I agree to it anyway? Yes, because I cannot look away from the trainwreck and because the new place is only 1.7 miles from my house.
I was able to talk her out of taping construction paper frog flippers to the feet of the students, but who knows what she's going to end up doing at all.
Luckily, my other residencies are all with rather pleasant people and I'm done entirely as of November 21st.
And my hematocrit is going to go UP. That's just the way it is going to be. You can will yourself to absorb iron more efficiently, right? (Yes, I'm taking iron supplements and yes, I'm eating iron-rich foods...and even moreso after this morning's phone call.)
Crazy Teacher #1 (Eeyore) just left me a message saying that she can't figure out how to use her scanner.
I DON'T CARE.
...although I must admit that I'm curious to see her handwriting.
I did call her back to tell her that perhaps it would be faster for her just to type up her notes. (I did not say IN THE LESSON PLAN TEMPLATE THAT YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO USE ANYWAY AND YOU ARE MAKING MY HOURLY RATE PLUMMET DRAMATICALLY.)
Huh. I just got a little paranoid that she'd find this entry and figure out that I was talking about her. But that makes me the crazy teacher, because she never checks her email AND DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO USE HER SCANNER THAT SHE OWNS BUT HAS NEVER USED.
In sunnier news, I was too sick to teach the past three days and so didn't have to go to her class on Tuesday. I'd like to thank my Food Diary for granting me simple pleasures.
(Yes, it is my Fairy GodFood Diary and it grants wishes.)
UPDATE: Eeyore just called me to tell me that she sent me two faxes. She meant emails...