Happy 8th Month Petals!
- Last week, Petals began waving. It’s pretty hit or miss, and I’m not always sure what her waving means, but she’s doing it! It’s also hilarious because she waves with the palm of her hand facing her instead of facing outwards, and she kind of just shakes her arm around in the air instead of just moving her wrist.
- Petals spent the night with grandparents where she played with cats and tried juice for the first time. Apparently, she’s not a fan – of juice, anyway. She had a great time with her grandparents and aunt and uncles.
- Petals learned about the joys of string cheese.
- We’ve finally got a sleep routine that works! No more screaming nights…I hope!
- Just when I was ready to give in and buy some formula, Petals decided that she needed to nurse every two hours again. While I’m pleased that she’s back at the breast, I’m also a little peeved that my through-the-night sleeper is back to her newborn schedule.
- I have yet to make it through one week of “cooking” meals from home, though I am making progress. We only ate out two nights last week! On Sunday, I made brown rice to accompany delicious beef panang left over from date night. On Monday, I made pasta, sausages, and asparagus/mushroom/onion saute. On Tuesday, I had leftovers from Monday for lunch – which was awesome. Then I went to Zumba, which was also awesome, which means that I had nary the time nor inclination to cook when I got home. We ate hot dogs. Wednesday, I was back at it. I baked some chicken in cream of mushroom soup, made Brussels sprouts with pancetta and balsamic vinegar, and more of the brown rice. Thursday we had hibachi from Japan Express. Friday I made “Green Eggs and Ham” – translate: Spinach Eggs and Bacon.
- Speaking of food, at school one of the teachers has been keeping a Big Mac in her classroom since the beginning of last semester. As I’d seen before on numerous websites, it still looks the same, smells the same, and demonstrates the chemical nature of fast food treatment. It was disgusting. That said, I still want to eat a Big Mac. I know. I know. (Although, later I read that according to an experiment conducting over at Serious Eats, apparently this is not unique to McDonald’s burgers – that other burgers, even homemade ones, do not “rot” either. Thanks J. Kenji Lopez-Alt. That makes me feel better about some of the decisions I’ve made in my life.)
- It’s the end of the semester, and I’m getting those “beginning of the year” jitters again. Who will these kids be? How will this semester go?
- Speaking of school, I am very frustrated with new projects and undertakings. I realize that I need to calm down, go back, and rethink my strategy. But at the moment I’m too frustrated to do that. So I’m going to eat some ice cream instead.
And oh yeah, about the formula.
I still haven’t made a final decision about the formula. I recognize that she’s happy, healthy, and growing well. But I do worry that the nature of my work, which doesn’t allow me to go to the bathroom on a regular basis let alone take a sixty minutes a day to pump (three twenty-minute breaks ain’t happenin’ at when you’ve got classes of kids to teach), means that my dwindling milk supply won’t be enough to satisfy her at school. I don’t want the kid to go eight hours with only one measly bottle of milk. Yes, she’s eating other foods, but don’t babies need milk?
Sigh. I thought I had the kinks to this breastfeeding thing worked out months ago.
I might need to eat some ice cream now.
Today I asked my students to weigh in on racial profiling as it relates to airline security. I noted that some have called this akin to a “witch-hunt” and, as they were about to finish up The Crucible I wanted them to weigh in on what they thought about the issue and whether or not it was truly similar to the 1692 Salem Witch Hunt.
Their answers were quite interesting.
And the discussion was amazingly…civil. 🙂
“Is this a fair practice? Is this a necessary evil?” I asked the class, ramping up to begin playing Devil’s advocate. The class seemed to be, at that point, pretty much evenly divided over the issue. No one wanted to admit to being a racist, but no one wanted to think that their naivete was going to lead them to sit down on a plane next to a successful underwear bomber either. One student, curly-haired, angelic looking, acerbic witted, self-identified “wealthy” White male argued back with one of his classmates who claimed that it was a “hateful, but necessary” practice. “Yes, you’re right,” he says, sarcastically. “We should totally judge people based on race because obviously, their race has something to do with their motives for driving planes into things.”
“What about the IRS guy?”
“Not his fault,” he responded, quickly.
“White male, not his fault. Mental issues, suicidal and all that. Next?”
“Okay, what about the Oklahoma Bomber?”
“Again, not his fault…White male,” he grins.
“Ooohh…tough one,” he says, sucking his breath in and pretending to mull it over. “He was an American, but he was Black…and believed in Islam, so yeah… I’m going to go with…totally his fault.”
“British guy? With the bomb in his shoe?”
“Not really British…totally his fault,” he declares.
“But…he was actually British…”I point out.
“Lies! Prevarications! Corporate Falsehoods! Global Warming Hoax!” he declares “Dude didn’t look White, so it had to be his fault…just ask Fox News!”
Sometimes, I really, really love my students. Occasionally, when they think you’re not looking, teens pay attention.