Some things never change.

Relish Yesterday As It's Happening

My mom just forwarded this to me and I think it's a good reminder to us all to live in the moment, whether you have children or not. No matter what we do, we can't get yesterday back. I know, duh! But it bears reminding that we might as well enjoy it if at all possible. Today my butt feels like I spent the weekend horseback riding because I sat perched on the edge of the tub for hours, grouting our shower yet again (don't ask, seriously. although who uses metal tiles in a bathroom??). Yet, I do enjoy the sense of accomplishment that comes from finally completing the task. Finally, yes...finally. And last night I was complaining because the baby was kicking so vigorously that I couldn't go to sleep. Actually, I think he/she was more using my bladder as a punching bag. But since this may be the only time I experience being pregnant (you never know ...), I'm trying to cherish it as much as I can. Plus, as long as our baby is still tucked safely inside, it can't wake us up crying in the night. Though I'm sure even that experience will provide its own rewards.

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From Loud Clear, by Anna Quindlen

All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves.

Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.

Everything in all the books I once pored over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton, Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories.

What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.

Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.

When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing.

Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to

China

. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.

Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the "Remember-When-Mom-Did Hall of Fame." The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, What did you get wrong? (She insisted I
include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?

But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs.

There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.

Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be.

The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense; matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity.

That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.

Quite a Science Lesson

This apparently really happened. Sounds like something straight out of Austin Powers, but with an obviously more disturbing bent. Strange that they don't say how old the kids are.
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Glimpse of porn in class leads teacher to resign

By Shane Anthony

ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH

04/18/2007

ST. CHARLES COUNTY — Students thought they were going to see a tape about volcanoes, instead they got a glimpse of porn.

And those few seconds of pornography on videotape apparently led to an Orchard Farm High School science teacher's resignation.

The district's school board accepted the resignation of Tiffany Kalabus, a biology, earth and physical science teacher, in an emergency closed session Thursday. That same day, a letter signed by high school Principal Timothy McInnis was sent to parents of students in a physical science class.

The letter said a substitute teacher on Wednesday read the day's lesson plan and started to show students what was supposed to be an instructional video about volcanoes.

"When the videotape began to play, pornographic video images appeared on the screen," the letter said. "The substitute teacher promptly shielded the screen away from the students and immediately stopped the tape.

"Although students were exposed to inappropriate material for approximately 15 seconds, this event demonstrated a profound error in judgment on the part of the regular classroom teacher."

The letter went on to say the incident had been addressed by the district administration and the school board.

Attempts to reach Kalabus were unsuccessful. A graduate of Southern Illinois University Edwardsville, she was hired in 2005. Parents, who declined to be identified, said she was well-liked by students.

Rumors swirled through the community as students and parents learned of the videotape and the teacher's resignation.

Among the rumors: A student somehow switched the tapes, perhaps as a prank.

Superintendent Dan Dozier declined to comment about Kalabus' resignation, citing it as a personnel matter.

But he said the videotape incident was not something a student did. "We have no evidence that it was some sort of senior prank," he said.

Meanwhile, another letter dated Tuesday was sent to parents from Melinda Meister, a librarian who is taking over Kalabus' classes. Meister has been with the district since 1996, and her letter said she taught physical and environmental science and biology for seven years.

"Thank you for your patience and understanding during this time of transition," Meister said.

Preggers Update

So I'm now 32 weeks pregnant, and feeling ... less like a normal human being. Fewer people are exclaiming, "I can't believe how small you are!" since I'm getting bigger. Which is good. It means the baby is getting bigger, and that's what's supposed to happen! The bad news is I've turned into a plodder. I have new respect for those larger people who move slowly through the skyways, impeding my impatient progress forward. I'm now one of those people crawling along, getting annoyed by my fellow travelers breathing down my neck and trying to pass me. In short, walking has become difficult and sometimes painful. I think I have a dysfunctional pelvis, also known as Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction. Seriously. I read about it on the Internet, and since my dad is a doctor, um...I think I know what I'm talking about?! :-) Or it could be those pesky round ligaments. Or possibly the baby's head bouncing up and down on my pelvic bone? I don't know. I mentioned it to my doctor two weeks ago and she said it sounded normal, then promptly cancelled my next appointment because I'm doing so well. Maybe I'll go to a chiropractor and see if that helps. At least I only have two months left! Which is kind of freaky in and of itself.

Matt and I took our third childbirth class yesterday (subject: pain meds), and then toured the hospital. He keeps asking me if I'm getting nervous, and the answer is, "Ah, yeah!" But I also know I'll be ready to be back to my old self again. I never thought I'd look at joggers with so much envy. I made the mistake of running to a bus yesterday and practically had to use a wheelchair at the hospital. I've never had to physically lean against someone (my thankfully strong and sympathetic husband) in order to walk. At least I'm feeling better today, and sitting is no problem (I've been doing a lot of that).

And, of course, in the end I know it will all be worth it!

Newsflash!!

'Abstinence Only' Sex Ed Ineffective

Note of Appreciation

No one I work with reads this, because no one I work with has the address and most don't know I have a blog, but I just want to put this out there: I work with some of the coolest, most caring and hardworking people I know. I'm really lucky to spend my day with them, even when I have days when the work itself is grinding me down.

Just wanted to put that out there!

Suffering at Bungalow 8

I can't decide whether this is sad in a funny way, funny in a sad way, or just plain sad....

From The New York Observer:

Bungalowing Iraq
By George Gurley

It was after midnight last Saturday, and Bungalow 8 was filling up. I wanted to ask the famously exclusive nightclub’s regular patrons their thoughts about Iraq.

John Flanagan, a 40-year-old nightlife impresario, was sitting with a large group drinking $350 bottles of vodka.

“I’m upset for the American lives that are lost, and the Iraqi lives,” he said. “It makes me feel confused about the direction we’ve taken and whether it was for the right cause.”

He referred to the war as an “unpleasantry of life.”

“I’d rather not be talking about this,” he added. “I’d rather talk about helping out Darfur, helping victims of Katrina.”

By the bar stood Laura Choi, a 25-year-old wearing a black-and-white-striped Marni dress. She said she did not support the war.

“Living in Europe, I feel like I always have to defend myself, and people are always attacking me,” she said. “I mean, I’m in Paris, I’ll sit down for dinner with a bunch of French people, and they’ll just attack Bush. I’m not a Bush supporter, and yet I feel, as an American, I have to defend my country.”

Interior designer Brinton Brewster, 38, was also very upset.

“We were brought into the war under false pretenses, the public was lied to, and we’re creating another generation of terrorists,” he said. “Unfortunately, the ‘fabulous people’ get a bad rap,” he continued. “Just because we live life in a certain way, they think we don’t have compassion for other people. It’s just not the truth. But you know, what really upsets me, honestly, is the propensity of the media to focus on Lindsay Lohan going in and out of rehab. I don’t care about celebrities and what they’re doing. I’ve met them all.”

Emily, a history major at Princeton University, took a seat. “I am upset by the Iraq War, but I don’t focus on it, because it’s a negative energy,” she said. “I think we are overanalyzing the situation. I mean, here we are at Bungalow 8!”

Next up was a blond woman in her late 30’s. She was wearing a black fedora from the men’s department at Bergdorf Goodman, a black Moschino dress and shoes by Christian Loubouton. I asked her about Iraq.

“A rack? You mean titties? Like a really big rack?”

Iraq.

“Don’t ever waste a moment in life. Fly to the moon and play amongst the stars, be happy, understand how lucky we are—and don’t fight,” she said. “I feel personally connected in one way—I’m a mother, and every day in Iraq somebody is losing their child. My little girl will never go to Iraq. I’m sorry, she’ll go to Prada.”

Jacqie Venable, a 40-year-old music producer, was wearing a beret and jeans. She said she wasn’t wearing underwear.

She said the war in Iraq was meant to happen “karmically.”

“In my spiritual picture, it has to do with karma,” she said. “Everything that happens in life, to each of us, is what we call into our space. Everything comes full circle. So right now, it’s going to work out to whatever it works out to be. It might be happy for me and not happy for you.

“The people who are there fighting—it’s their journey. This is our journey,” she continued. “People are dying all around the world. Forget Iraq—they’re dying in this country. And their parents are suffering with them, and our parents suffer for us because we’re at Bungalow. There is no separation in the trauma.”

How does she feel as an American?

“I don’t see myself as an American,” she said. “I see myself as a child of a higher being, and I feel privileged to walk this earth with my daughter and my family. The war in Iraq just reminds me of my everyday war. The only way that I can make a difference is being really grateful for the good, the bad, the ugly—what I can do for me. If I’m straight and I love everybody in a grateful world, that’s the only contribution I can make. And I can teach that to my daughter.”

I asked what she’d rather be talking about.

“My daughter. Shoes. Handbags. Fashionistas to laugh at. Waxing the undercarriage—from your poonnany to your back door. It’s fucking painful.”

I met Holger Braun, a 31-year-old entrepreneur from Austria.

I asked if he cared that American soldiers are dying.

“Not for a second,” he said. “Because the Americans are the people who are attacking the world; it’s not the other way around. There’s no one who is aggressing America; it’s just America aggressing the whole world …. My girlfriend is from America, and I’m always just talking with her about it. And, you know, she hates me for my opinion.”

Paul Johnson-Calderon, a 23-year-old fashionista wearing a Balenciaga tunic, was also upset.

“I think that the initial reason for us going into Iraq, to get rid of Saddam and his regime, was a good thing,” he said. “How it’s been handled is terrible.”

How does he feel to be an American these days?

“I’m a little bit ashamed, because you go abroad now and everyone hates Americans,” he said. “I was in Florence, Italy—it was my birthday; I’d just turned 21—and everyone was like, ‘Oh, America—fuck America!’ And I was like, ‘No, not fuck America. There are a lot of great people who don’t back Bush, so don’t judge me.’

“I live this debauched life of partying and fun,” he added, “but you have to think about Darfur, you have to think about Iraq, you have to think about the pressing danger of Iran. I think people should enjoy themselves—which I’m not going to stop doing—but at the same time, there should be a level of guilt.”

New Cell Number

Since we've now lived here for more than a year and a half, I figure it's time to pull the trigger and get a local cell number. Check your local listings ... I mean your e-mail ... for the updated digits!

Not that this will make me a big Vikings fan.