School is starting in a week and a half. Can you believe it? Where did the summer go? In Minnesota, I bet you are quizzically furrowing your eyebrows and thinking that there is another month of summer to enjoy. I was once a believer that summer was June, July, and August. However, in Arizona, summer is May, June, July, August, and September. These poor kids are stuck inside their summer break because it's too hot to even breathe! There are no kids riding their bikes around the neighborhood, no mamas pushing their strollers to the park, and no kids running drills on soccer fields. Since we have such dormant summers, they start school EXTRA early.
I don't have to go back to work. Ha! Not until September 5th, when the rest of the country starts the day after Labor Day. You are probably excited and smiling for me that I get to have time with Tommy at home. And goodness knows I deserve the time off because I hoarded my sick days and didn't take any personal days for the last two years so I could have a full pay maternity leave. I accomplished that, plus another six weeks, just in case.
Unfortunately, this job doesn't just start itself. I accepted a fifth grade position for this year and had to move rooms down a different hallway. I also knew that I wasn't going to start the school year either, which adds some extra stress to this big mess. The end of last year, I was one week away from giving birth (technically 3 days) and I was hauling boxes, books, and binders down the hall with my students dragging the really big items. I dumped it in the hallway outside the door where the teacher whose classroom I was taking had not even started packing up her room. When I left on May 26th, I was relieved to be done, but anticipating the mess I would walk into come the end of July with a small baby.
As much as I never want the end of my break to come, there is some excitement to setting up my classroom. Have you ever moved and packed up your things over a period of time and then when you unpacked your boxes in your new place, you are always surprised by a few items? That's what it's kind of like when I set up my classroom each year. Oh, I had forgotten about you, I say to some hot pink fabric. And this new Eric Carle border will compliment you so well. I buy new punch out letters that have a great pattern on them. How super fun will you look on my walls? I spend long hours and late nights painstakingly stapling up all my bulletin boards, borders, lettering, posters, and pocket charts. I use my best creative handwriting to write "Mrs. Huberty" on my welcome poster. I can't wait to get my hands on my class list so I can finally write out nameplates for their desks. I put together their supply buckets neatly and make sure all their Crayola crayons have pointy tips and none of their scissors have glue or tape stuck to the metal. The room is always colorful, inviting, a little overwhelming at first, but totally awesome.
This year didn't have the same excitement and attention to detail that I always try and improve upon each year. Trips to Target were late this season because I can't take Tommy in public. The Lakeshore trip was uneventful as I grabbed my usual supplies, but nothing extra to save a little money. I was given two small windows of time that my sister would be able to watch Tommy during the day last week. I would drive 40 minutes down to Casa Grande and run into my room--literally, I was jogging with the flatbed cart down the hallway so I wouldn't waste any time. I locked my door and turned up Glee Volume 1.
The first day I scrubbed, wiped and dusted all my shelving and organizers (those things get dusty in a year!). I threw things in piles and pushed all my desks and chairs to the center of the room. It has been quite liberating to not be pregnant, I've gone back to my old obnoxious carrying-and-pushing-things-that-I-really-shouldn't ways. When I left that first day, I felt a bit defeated and my muscles ached. There was no way I could revive this classroom in the little time that I had. The next day I again ran to my classroom and I started unpacking boxes. I didn't marvel at their old newness or attempt to conjure up old memories. They were put into a pile in a general location where they would be later. I hauled things out, I tossed out anything that looked like crap, I sorted books and all of my curriculum and when I left, it still looked like a tornado had passed through it. How did four hours go by like five minutes? Again, I left feeling tired, but at least my mess was an organized one.
This week I knew I only had two days to whip my classroom together. It was a big day yesterday. I'm no spring chicken and this is my sixth year putting together a classroom. I ran and I was literally out of breath stapling with such haste. Fabrics were flying up at lightning speed, borders were quickly disguising my poor cutting jobs. Lettering was signifying all of my focus walls for all subjects. I organized my desk into neat purple plastic boxes. I had things in cubbies and my teacher manuals lined up in order. I left again four hours later with a sweaty brow and somewhat of a classroom.
Oh, but today....today was huge! My sister came with me and we brought the little monster. We didn't really know how it would go, but alas, with a constant parade of visitors in the room, the two of us finished the room. One would feed Tommy while the other put together supply buckets. One would cuddle Tommy while the other cut folders. Both of us would staple while Tommy was in his swing sleeping. Tommy watched from his bouncy seat as I arranged the desks and stacked chairs.
As we were just packing up to leave (with carrier, stroller, bouncy chair, travel swing, diaper bag, breast pump and two purses in tow) my principal and our school's reading coach walked into my room. It was the true test. I took a deep breath as they surveyed my room. I crossed my fingers as they took in each wall and corner.
"Oh, my gosh!" they said with shocked voices. Was it good or was it bad? Smiles spread across their faces. They couldn't believe that I had taken four walls, piled up furniture, and my mess shoved into a corner and created my masterpiece. They said it was perfect. It was ready for my substitute to come in and start the year. It was bright, it was inviting, it was a little overwhelming at first, and it was TOTALLY AWESOME.
What a relief to have it done. And just before I left, I put in my final touch and hung up a picture. Casey and Tommy sitting together and smiling pleasantly back at me. Now it was the perfect classroom.
WHEW!
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
I Scream, You Scream and it isn't for Ice Cream
I may go nuts. Literally, I may have to check myself into the nearest mental health facility very soon. It's probably really quiet there. They will probably have drugs stronger than Tylenol that will make me very sleepy and I will take them without reservation. I will be their best patient as I tell the psychiatrist EVERYTHING from my extremely uneventful childhood to what brought me to my current state. Screaming.
Why does my baby scream? When I gave birth (a different story all together), Tommy came out with one eye open, like he was winking at me. It was like he knew. He didn't cry and it made the delivery nurses a little nervous. There was a little whimpering, but after a close examination, he checked out as a very healthy baby boy.
"Oh, you are so lucky he doesn't cry that much! I hope this is a sign of what's to come!" one nurse exclaimed as he lay contently in my arms.
And he didn't really cry that much the first week we brought him home. We even went to church that first week--to church! Tommy really was the perfect baby. I praised the heavens for this good karma, I knew opening doors for people and always returning my cart to the cart corral was going to pay off. Here it was, my perfect baby.
He's still perfect, buuuuuut, there are a few minor adjustments I would suggest if he could understand me. After a couple of weeks, we had ourselves a squealer. Is that even a word? I don't know, but his ear piercing screeches can sometimes only be heard by the barking dogs next door. We would cringe after feeding him, not knowing what to expect after dispensing liquids down his throat. Will he burp and go to sleep? Will he cry inconsolably? Will he just plain scream?
It was usually the last one. As new parents, we will do ANYTHING to make the crying/screaming/screeching stop. We gave each other tips on how to possibly tame the beast. I suggested to Casey to hold him at a 45 degree angle not quite directly under the fan, but more at a three o'clock stance and to put his pinkie into the hole of the pacifier and gently bounce, but not too aggressively because one time it worked for me. Later on that evening, or maybe it was early the next morning, when Tommy was testing out his pipes again, Casey recommended that I hold him like Simba from the "Lion King" and move him in a swooshing motion, while saying "heeeeeeey" in a really deep voice.
We were desperate for him to stop screaming. I called the pediatrician and I think they just humored me and gave him a prescription for heartburn and said to put a little rice cereal in his breast milk. It was awesome the first day. He was actually pleasant to be around and we played in his Boppy. Then he stopped pooping. Besides our world revolving around his screaming, it is also very much affected by his poop. Which there was none. For three days. After reading the information packet, it turned out constipation was a side effect of the medicine and the rice cereal. We asked ourselves what's worse--a screaming baby with heartburn or a screaming baby with painful constipation? We loaded Tommy back up again to the pediatrician to get an expert answer and she recommended to stop the rice cereal and continue the medication. Righty-o, we obediently responded.
I wish I could say that it's been smooth sailing ever since. I am a stay-at-home mom that literally stays at home. We can't leave the house. Tommy has taken it upon himself to scream everywhere and anywhere that does not have a My Little Lamb Cradle 'n Swing. No shopping trips to the grocery store or Target--he screams. No quick errands to the post office--straight up screaming. No indoor walking track--cry/scream combo. No visiting homes that don't have his swing--you guessed it. As of now, we have three locations where minimal screaming takes place: our house, his Uncle Ryan and Aunt Trena's house (only because they have all the luxuries of home plus more), and the pediatrician's office. I am dreading a playdate I agreed to this Friday where we are going to walk at the mall and have lunch...ha! In my dreams this will have a pleasant ending!
It's difficult to feel happy when the walls of your little house feel like they are closing in at a rapid pace. I have had so many suggestions and advice given to me which I graciously accept, but until experiencing the screaming first-hand, it's difficult to understand the magnitude of it all. I can mostly read his screams and when we are at home, I can tend to the scream immediately. While in the grocery store, my resources are limited and my arm count is still only at two, which makes it almost impossible to hold him and push the cart...trust me, I've tried!
I want to enjoy him when he is so little, as everyone has also told me to do, but how do you enjoy a screaming baby? I feel more like I'm doing damage control and praying that he will just go to sleep, so then at least he won't scream. I get angry with Casey for being even 15 minutes late. I am losing my mind a little bit and wondering if I really was ready for all of this. How come other mom bloggers have really awesome kids that only sometimes act up and always pose perfectly for pictures? Where is my "mom gene" hiding that I can't lovingly and patiently accept my healthy baby with a screaming problem? I think it's lodged in some of this belly fat I'm still trying to lose.
Why does my baby scream? When I gave birth (a different story all together), Tommy came out with one eye open, like he was winking at me. It was like he knew. He didn't cry and it made the delivery nurses a little nervous. There was a little whimpering, but after a close examination, he checked out as a very healthy baby boy.
"Oh, you are so lucky he doesn't cry that much! I hope this is a sign of what's to come!" one nurse exclaimed as he lay contently in my arms.
And he didn't really cry that much the first week we brought him home. We even went to church that first week--to church! Tommy really was the perfect baby. I praised the heavens for this good karma, I knew opening doors for people and always returning my cart to the cart corral was going to pay off. Here it was, my perfect baby.
He's still perfect, buuuuuut, there are a few minor adjustments I would suggest if he could understand me. After a couple of weeks, we had ourselves a squealer. Is that even a word? I don't know, but his ear piercing screeches can sometimes only be heard by the barking dogs next door. We would cringe after feeding him, not knowing what to expect after dispensing liquids down his throat. Will he burp and go to sleep? Will he cry inconsolably? Will he just plain scream?
It was usually the last one. As new parents, we will do ANYTHING to make the crying/screaming/screeching stop. We gave each other tips on how to possibly tame the beast. I suggested to Casey to hold him at a 45 degree angle not quite directly under the fan, but more at a three o'clock stance and to put his pinkie into the hole of the pacifier and gently bounce, but not too aggressively because one time it worked for me. Later on that evening, or maybe it was early the next morning, when Tommy was testing out his pipes again, Casey recommended that I hold him like Simba from the "Lion King" and move him in a swooshing motion, while saying "heeeeeeey" in a really deep voice.
We were desperate for him to stop screaming. I called the pediatrician and I think they just humored me and gave him a prescription for heartburn and said to put a little rice cereal in his breast milk. It was awesome the first day. He was actually pleasant to be around and we played in his Boppy. Then he stopped pooping. Besides our world revolving around his screaming, it is also very much affected by his poop. Which there was none. For three days. After reading the information packet, it turned out constipation was a side effect of the medicine and the rice cereal. We asked ourselves what's worse--a screaming baby with heartburn or a screaming baby with painful constipation? We loaded Tommy back up again to the pediatrician to get an expert answer and she recommended to stop the rice cereal and continue the medication. Righty-o, we obediently responded.
I wish I could say that it's been smooth sailing ever since. I am a stay-at-home mom that literally stays at home. We can't leave the house. Tommy has taken it upon himself to scream everywhere and anywhere that does not have a My Little Lamb Cradle 'n Swing. No shopping trips to the grocery store or Target--he screams. No quick errands to the post office--straight up screaming. No indoor walking track--cry/scream combo. No visiting homes that don't have his swing--you guessed it. As of now, we have three locations where minimal screaming takes place: our house, his Uncle Ryan and Aunt Trena's house (only because they have all the luxuries of home plus more), and the pediatrician's office. I am dreading a playdate I agreed to this Friday where we are going to walk at the mall and have lunch...ha! In my dreams this will have a pleasant ending!
It's difficult to feel happy when the walls of your little house feel like they are closing in at a rapid pace. I have had so many suggestions and advice given to me which I graciously accept, but until experiencing the screaming first-hand, it's difficult to understand the magnitude of it all. I can mostly read his screams and when we are at home, I can tend to the scream immediately. While in the grocery store, my resources are limited and my arm count is still only at two, which makes it almost impossible to hold him and push the cart...trust me, I've tried!
I want to enjoy him when he is so little, as everyone has also told me to do, but how do you enjoy a screaming baby? I feel more like I'm doing damage control and praying that he will just go to sleep, so then at least he won't scream. I get angry with Casey for being even 15 minutes late. I am losing my mind a little bit and wondering if I really was ready for all of this. How come other mom bloggers have really awesome kids that only sometimes act up and always pose perfectly for pictures? Where is my "mom gene" hiding that I can't lovingly and patiently accept my healthy baby with a screaming problem? I think it's lodged in some of this belly fat I'm still trying to lose.
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