Wow. I had a whole week off and I didn't even write a blog post. I did, however, thoroughly enjoy watching my baby boy grow up in small, incremental steps. How can I slow down time and still get to summer vacation ASAP? Here are some of Ollin's latest achievements:
Standing without realizing it
Waving his hand across the span of area to his right or left in a Vanna White gesture
Scrunching up his face and smiling in a flirty way
Obsessing over books for long periods of time, making humming noises the whole time he turns the pages
Skipping his afternoon nap
Sprouting four molars months ahead of schedule
Saying "giggle giggle giggle giggle"
Some of Mama's achievements:
Applying for six jobs online
Going to the zoo with my family (Papa's achievement: braving the crowds and the shuttle bus)
Three play dates for Ollin
House cleaning
Refreshing myself with a break from middle schoolers
Hi. I'm a teacher. It's in the title of my blog (which is, by the way, chronological, not in order of importance. Obviously.) I often write about work, as in, work is hard as a new parent, even if I'm working part-time, and I went to work and ... or pumping at work is... but do I actually teach? And what do I have to say about it? And why haven't I yet? Well, it's complicated. I love teaching. It's rewarding, wonderful, frustrating, overwhelming, and never finished. It's been a part of my identity for a long time, since I was a teacher-entertainer in rural Japan, wishing and reaching for more responsibility. This year I have an especially challenging group to teach that I should've started to tackle before I was a parent, you know, back when teachers put in hours and hours of extra time at their jobs. I'm teaching a literacy class, which is extra reading and writing practice for all students in the district (in addition to their regular Language Arts class) and my particular group, according to test scores, are a few years behind grade level for reading. That means so many things. First, it means that many of them are disillusioned, disengaged, disinterested, and distracted. For most of them it means that the first seven or eight years of their school life has been frustrating and unpleasant, academically. It usually means that rather than the habits of success that we hope students have been learning, they have been instead learning how to survive in classes where they were not engaged. they have mastered the habits of fake literacy, distracting the teacher, getting others off-track to join their lack of engagement, and getting attention for something, if not for "getting it", then at least for being a distractor. Some have mastered the habit of checking out. Some bounce off the walls and are in some ways too engaged, they have no filter and shout out their opinions on everything, having a de facto debate with me with their peers as audience. I find myself saying way more often than I'd like: "sit down!" I wish they could run around outside, jump on a treadmill or something, instead of being expected to sit for six hours a day. ADHD or not, it seems unnatural to expect this, yet in our school system, the kids who can muster the strength to endure this are the ones who succeed. The concept of leveling classes is somewhat controversial. In middle school, the idea is that for the most part, students should be grouped by age, and ability should be taken into account by the teacher's curriculum and instruction--differentiated, so that there is an access point for every ability. This is very hard. On the other hand, grouping students by ability, while quite nice for the students "at the top", puts all students with learning struggles together to bounce off of each other and create chaos. And very little modeling of appropriate behavior goes on. That is what happens in my class, though I'd say I have three types of students. The first is described above. They are the disengaged, overactive, struggling students that are typical of many boys in middle school. Another type are just poor test-takers or have a different way of learning, or perhaps reading and writing just isn't their strength, but they still enjoy reading, barely recognize that their skills are low, and are perfectly willing to participate readily in class. And a few are like Shannah*. She was recently expelled for repeated drug possession. At age 14, she was already using pot as a coping mechanism, smoking pretty much every day, coming to school every other day, doing her best under her current condition (how often was she high in my class? I don't even want to imagine) and failing. Some of the girls in her situation are mature beyond their years, or at least exposed to things that take a maturity beyond middle school, whether they are ready for it or not. They developed early, didn't fit in to the "good girl" mold and chose the darker, more rebellious corners of school. They started by experimenting with pot or alcohol. They may have started having sex. They certainly aren't interested in reading some book about a girl in love with a vampire or a middle school boy pulling pranks on his friends. (Even Hunger Games didn't hook them.) I have a handful of these girls, and perhaps one or two boys in similar circumstances. I had Shannah for a year and a half before she was expelled. She was placed in a new program that is finally available to middle schoolers, for students who can't find success after multiple tries in the regular system. I don't know if that's going to help her, but I guess I didn't, so I hope she can find some success. So, are you getting why I don't write about teaching very much? Once I start, it's pretty hard to stop. Obviously on the weekends and in the evenings, I'd rather not contemplate all of this when I could be watching my baby grow up. I could be starting down a road of disillusionment with our current system and my job, even with the incredible support of my administrators and colleagues. I definitely feel the insurmountable challenges every day and do my best. Often I wonder if I'm the best teacher for this particular group of students. Sometimes I think they would do better with a really rad male rapper teacher with a beard who uses slang and can connect with them on a "cool" level. I know I have my strengths but I'm not him. This particularly challenging to engage group might not find me to be the one they most connect with. I can objectively see that AND still want very much to reach them. We have laptops. This year my classes (being the smallest and needing a lot of support) was chosen to work with Google Chrome Books. They are fantastic and they do draw them in from the edges. We are working toward blogging as a class, students getting individual blogs, online journaling, lots of videos, articles, digital literacy, and so much more. We use them almost every day. I think this will be positive memory and skill-set to work with. As for me, I still want to do my best every day, and often do. I still want to learn more tools for engaging these kids, I still want to find ways to reach them. I still reach out to my colleagues for ways to better my own practice. I still have really frustrating days where nothing feels it is going as well as it should for the moral imperative that teachers carry: each kid needs a teacher to connect to strongly, to really see them and reach them and push them, for success. How many kids will see me as that teacher? If they don't, am I wasting their time? There. I wrote about teaching. *Name changed.
Hello from Portlandia. The thing I love about this show is that it is so very accurate in making fun of the people here. And yet I still love living here, or rather, Portlandia's humor makes it easier to live here, easier to co-exist with the skinny vegan bicycle dude with a bird on his hat at the farmers' market asking for gluten free bagels. And yes, I am guilty of some of the same Colin-questioning as the next resident of Lala land. In regards to baby making, we all generally get them in there the same way. But when it comes to getting them out & what to do with them once they are out, Portland(ia) has its own take on every aspect and I'm so very thankful to be living here. There are so many more alternatives available here for every aspect of child rearing. It's easy to accept the way we do it here as the norm, and I certainly wish it was in most cases. I forget that in the US, the rate of cesarean section is over 30% (http://www.childbirthconnection.org/article.asp?ck=10554) , that in some places, midwives are considered unusual or fringe and that breastfeeding for at least six months is at a rate of 47% nationally (CDC's Breastfeeding Report Card). Here in PDX, we are ahead of the game, which for childbirth means in some ways returning to the past, but with the benefits of today's medical technologies at hand. (PS: as I research this I noticed that Oregon has the highest rate in the nation for breastfeeding at three months and six months! Hurray!) Take my birth for example: I worked with midwives at OHSU, one of the top teaching hospitals in the country. We had a doula to coach us through the birth. We took two classes, one was "Birthing from Within" (which Shannon could barely stomach) and another more conventional Basics of Birth class from Kaiser. In our birth plan, we had included hypnobirthing, water birth, and as many steps as possible to avoid drugs or other interventions. Once born, we co-slept with our baby, worked through many a breastfeeding issue with lactation consultants, breastfed exclusively for as long as possible (still happening), bought into all the alternative toys, carriers, and other baby gear, joined a moms' group with like-minded people, and attempted the newest thing in feeding: baby-led weaning. Now don't get me wrong, I painstakingly researched every decision, and in the end I pretty much ended up doing what all the other moms of Portland(ia) were already doing. I think that wherever you live, parenthood is a foray into confusing research, confounding choices and indoctrination into certain schools of thought. But somehow in Portland, there are just a lot more alternatives, or as some might see it, a lot more ways to go over the top with something. I don't care. It sure beats a hospital where doctors make all the choices for you, and going to Babies R Us for parenting information.
Hi. I'm sitting here pouting about cancelling our trip to Arizona today. Is it called cancelling if your husband still goes without you? Ollin got roseola last week, and we didn't realize what it was till yesterday. He had a high fever with no other symptoms for four days. Our doc thought it was a virus with the mucous just a bit delayed. Then when the fever broke, he broke out in a red bumpy rash all over his body and major fussiness. A textbook case, but I'm glad I didn't know at the time that the high fevers can lead to febrile seizures, because that would've freaked me out.
We were going to see Ollin's tias and his great grandmother, who's met him once before. We were soooo looking forward to seeing them, to enjoying the 75 degree weather, the showering of affection, the good food, the delightful family connections. Shannon went anyway but I don't know if they'll accept him as a consolation prize. Then he's going to SF on a business trip till next Friday, so I'm single parenting for seven days. And I'm not super thrilled about it. Knowing that some people do this full time, and even work full time on top of it, I feel like I am whining. Yes, I am. Also, reading my amazing friend Jill's blog about her journey with Sylvia, all about mindfulness and overcoming incredible struggle, I feel a bit silly saying this next part, but this is my bubble, and this is how it is for me right now. It's been a hard month, the hardest I've had in a while. Now that I've said that, I can think of some of the recent events as a comedy of errors, and a bit ridiculous. Take yesterday:
I knew that Ollin was sick and was relieved that my mom and step-dad were home with him. He had the rash, and was fussy when I left. I left reluctantly, but having taken off two days the week before due to childcare woes and one day earlier because of his fever and my clogged duct, I was trying to be a good teacher and show up for work. Upon arriving, I realized I was exhausted from being up with a fussy baby for four hours in the middle of the night. I planned and taught one class with more patience than I thought I had, then checked my phone to see that Ollin was worse. My mom thought we should get him into the doc to help us decide about our trip in 16 hours. I called the doc from my classroom on my precious 30 minute lunch break in which I must fit eating, pumping in a private "lactation" closet, travel and cleanup time, and was on hold for 10 minutes. Being a rule-follower and hating to be a hypocrite, I was reluctant to walk down the hall of the no-phones school while on hold. While stressing about this I started to get the tell-tale visual aura of a migraine. Now, my migraines tend to be very debilitating, involving loss of chunks of vision and plenty of puking. I chugged four ibuprofen and hoped for the best. In triaging the current situation, I realized that if I didn't pump, I would likely have more clogged duct/mastitis issues, if I didn't eat, I was risking more imbalances to my pre-migraine body, so I fit in a little bit of pumping and just heating up my frozen-solid lunch. I considered using some of this precious time to track down an
administrator, plead my case and see if someone could cover the rest of
my classes, but I didn't. When I returned to my locked classroom just before the bell, all the students were waiting outside the door, as was an adult who I'd forgotten was there to observe my next two classes! Okay, that's the gist of it. Actually, the visitor worked to my benefit. I told her that I had a migraine, but would do my best. I didn't tell that particular class of misfits, as I knew from past experience that some of them would react with less generosity than I was hoping for. The nice thing about having an unknown observer is that many students think the person is there to observe them, so they are on their best behavior. Since my eyes were bugging me, I did something I'd been meaning to do for a while, I called individual students to my desk during independent reading and had them read aloud to me. The migraine didn't fully materialize, but one side effect did: dislexic speech patterns. (I swear, migraines are similar to strokes in some ways, which is kind of scary.) After teaching a lesson for about five minutes, I started noticing I couldn't say certain words right. So I just stopped and told kids to get out the "lasptops." I tried to say it a few times but it kept coming out the same way. Either they didn't notice or they thought I was totally losing it. The rest of the lesson was easier, because all students are more engaged with a laptop in front of them. At the end of all this, I found out that for a second day in a week, there was a sub shortage, and we were missing 14 subs for teachers who were out. Other teachers gave up their preps, so did counselors and administrators, to cover the classes. Luckily I made it through without needing to add to the burden, and I turned out to be Grace under pressure. Who knew? Epilogue: We met at the doctor, Ollin was diagnosed with what we were pretty sure he had. Even though this was the tail end of the virus, it could last anywhere from a few hours to a few days, and he was not a happy camper. I guess it doesn't itch, but it is obviously uncomfortable because he has a very short fuse, and keeps putting his face down on the floor in a whimper after crawling a few feet. I can't imagine flying with him, and transferring planes, too. We got a note to use for the airline, if there was any chance that a non-paying passenger could be the reason for a cancelled flight. In the end it cost $250 to preserve the miles for a future flight, but it would've cost Shannon over $600 to change his ticket, so he went without us. Not sure what my lessons are from this, yet. I'll let you know when I figure it out. Do you know?
Let's start with an update. Ollin is doing a crab-crawl, with one leg tucked under and one leg extended, and it looks like this is his chosen crawl method, not a phase. He says "dog" and "cat" which is interesting because we have neither. There are pets at his nanny share house, and we see them frequently on walks. His new loves are going to the dog park, all animal noises, pulling up on the things, flipping through big-people books and fanning the pages, finding everything we haven't babyproofed yet, his papa's kisses and games, waving, and the "little toy house" his grandma made that matches the one in "Goodnight Moon" (well, it's actually way cooler, but he makes the connection). I have been grappling with work and mom-hood, still. I did not find an easy replacement for the job that I put more than six years of investment into. I think my biggest justification is that starting a new job is just as or more stressful than keeping this one going, since I'm already into it and know how to do it. Also, I mostly like my job, like the challenge, and I like fulfilling my commitments and I like the continuity in my career record (not taking a leave of absence in the middle of the year). I decided to get through these next five months and take a leave of absence next year, giving myself ample time to plan for a different type of job that allows me to be home more days a week. I think. A benefit to making it till June is that then I have three months of a paycheck without needing to go to work or pay for childcare. I think it's worth it. Now just to get through the next five months.... The childcare search has been quite a process. For the last four or five months, we have been sharing a nanny with another family, going to their house, which is on my way to work, and Ollin has a buddy a few months older than him to play and giggle and get along with. They have great fun. There are a few annoying dogs. Ollin loves them (hence, his first word). Our nanny is amazing; a trained doula, future massage therapist, mother, and expert at taking care of children. But because of all these qualities, she is moving on. We need a new caregiver. (Also, she's been sick, on-call and otherwise indisposed more than I expected, so I'm basically out of emergency leave.) I worked for a while with the other mother, Robin, to find a new nanny to share. We interviewed countless people (or I could count them if I felt like it). Some got other jobs, some flaked, some needed more money, etc. Some couldn't hack it with two babies. We realized how amazing our nanny is. I began going slowly crazy (or realizing my slow decline). It's been such a pain in the ass to haul O into the car every morning with all his gear, milk, bottles, food, diapers, my pump, ice packs for milk, enough food for a breastfeeding mama's metabolism, oh, and work materials. I inevitably forget something. I drag him out of the house just before his natural nap time, and pick him up again just before he would otherwise go to sleep. I try to keep him happy for 20 minutes of driving each way. If I stop to get groceries or something after picking him up, we get home almost as late as if I were working full time. I don't feel good at my job. My students are more challenging this year, and I have not been giving them proper feedback regarding their progress. I usually plan a good lesson on my way to work while multitasking, but there's very little follow up. And I'm tired. So, we are hiring someone to take care of O in our home. It will be 100 times easier than schlepping him across town. I think we found someone. She is young, kind, alternative, and trainable. She's no doula-massage-double-baby-whisperer, but she's someone who will probably follow my instructions and make a strong connection with O. If she can't get him to sleep, she'll just take him for a long walk. But now we're back to the money issue. There's no sharing the cost of her, so now my paycheck after childcare is so much less that the question returns: is it even worth it for me to work?
Hi. It's been a while. Thanksgiving has occurred. Solid foods are happening. O's body is inching toward various crawl-like positions, and the desire to move without the full understanding of how is making him alternate from frustration to excitement and back again. Working and having a babe is still hard, even though I'm working part time.
Thanksgiving: we had a very quiet one with my mom and step-dad, O, Shannon and I. And O's favorite new being, Ollie the cat. Now this cat is not like any other cat I have met. He's a Dr. Suess cat, with a long, curling orange tail and body that springs out of his tail. He purrs like a Tibetan Throat Singer. I think he has a triple purr. O's face upon touching his soft, orange fur is pure bliss. So much so that I may have convinced Papa that we need to get a cat for him. There is one caveat: we must get rid of our shedding rug before we get another "pet". Working. I know I have little to complain about compared to most. But I have to say, this working thing isn't currently working very well for me. Maybe it's because I'm working almost as hard as I did full time and every month don't know if I'm going to have enough money to cover my basics. After paying for four days worth of childcare from my part-time check, I have about $600-700 left for my student loan and groceries. Will I need to use a handful of change to get gas? Will I need to float the check to my childcare person or ask her (god forbid) to wait a day to cash it? Will I need to make something with all of the dry goods I have in the kitchen and avoid shopping again? Will I need to sell back clothes that I actually want to keep, rather than just the ratty ones that no one wants to take anyway? Now, I know I'm being a bit dramatic. My husband still has a full time job and we have only reduced our expenses somewhat. I still go to New Seasons a few times a month. I still get a hot beverage when I really think I deserve a treat. We still have cable (i.e. high speed internet). But there is something about a bank account being tight that affects me psychologically more than it should. It takes up more emotional space than it needs to. The stress affects other parts of my life inordinately. It could be because I don't feel I can really give my all to my job, and at times I feel like I don't give my all to O because I'm distracted by work. I'm sure this push-pull will always exist. Some days though, I feel like I don't do anything well when I try to do everything. Would starting new jobs feel the same way? Is it easier to just push through this and keep doing something I know, rather than start something new that will take more of my energy to get started?
Sometimes the effects are on my milk supply. Feeling rushed at school when pumping, feeling pressured in the morning when I'm getting ready, and feeling stressed in general all take a toll on my milk supply, and I'm not producing as much. The long and short of it is that I have started looking at other options for work. My boss has actually suggested that I could take the rest of the year as unpaid leave of absence and still have my job in the fall. I wanted to quit right then, but I still need to come up with that $700+ a month. There must be some work that allows me to be home more days a week and make that much money. If nothing else, there's taking care of someone else's kid at the same time as taking care of O, for maybe 10-15 hours weekly. I've applied to some online jobs that look promising, and if I can come up with enough semi-guaranteed work, I will take that leave of absence!
What? Are you seeing birthing classes with women synchronizing their labor? No, I was trying to say that I'm a pusher. Of groups. One of the most valuable things to me as a new mom has been this moms' group I've been going to at Providence Hospital. I've written about it a bit, but it really deserves its own post. Any new mom I talk to gets an earful about how they should try the groups. Now that I'm back at work, I hardly ever make it now, and I miss it immensely. The great thing about a group is that moms can get whatever they want out of it. I should say parents, because there are also some dads who come and seem to get a lot out of it as well. The format is super simple: 8-20 moms (or dads) sitting around in a circle, their 0-6 month old babes on a blanket, talking, feeding, changing diapers, tending to the babies in groups There is also a knowledgeable facilitator who keeps things on track. Besides giving birth, this has probably been the closest thing that has connected me to the primal aspect of being a mother. Sitting isolated in an apartment, seeing only a husband all day is not the way that humans developed for millions of years, and it isn't the way to nurture moms and babies. As I learned early on in relationships with men, one person is not enough to satisfy me--I need a community of others, especially women, to feel fulfilled in my life. But even if that is not you, the groups are incredibly useful. You can just go to hear others' opinions and advice on getting your baby to sleep, what to feed and how, breastfeeding advice and wisdom, etc. You can just go to see other babies and get perspective on what yours is doing and looking like. You can just go to hear the facilitator answer your one burning question about milk production. You can just go to see what the next stage will look like, after this one. Or you can just go to get reassurance about all the conflicting info you get on SIDS, cosleeping, car seats, whatever. Or, you can just go to get connected to one of the many play groups that develop out of the larger groups. Many of the play groups have lasted for years! I've always known (and often forget) that I process complex issues externally, by writing about them or talking them out. Never having tried group therapy, this is the closest I have gotten, I suppose. Sometimes the topics get very personal, and you can choose how revealing you want to be. Mostly, though, they are right around most people's comfort level, not too intimate but still juicy enough to feel very relevant.
O showing off
Oh, and your baby gets something out of it, too. At first it might seem hard to tell, but as they get a bit more aware, they are able to connect with and watch other babies more and more, and they seem to get inspired by each other. They might even start to show off a bit, like O is known to do. Groups are good for many things: prenatal yoga group, birth preparation group, miscarriage support group, surrounded-by-babies-and-not-sure-if-I-want-my-own group, depression support group, empty nest group, menopause group. It's a way to honor the stage in life that you are in and get perspective on from others who actually understand, especially if those around you are in a different life stage. I'm sure that not all groups are as effective as ours, but even if a few factors are out of sync, I think there would still be great benefit to trying it out. My well-meaning husband does not know or research as much as many mothers put together, and I come back with the confidence and knowledge to help both of us be more effective parents. We have had meet ups with other parents, both moms and dads, met nannies for nanny shares, found products, shared products, and mostly shared our timely and important questions that needed supportive answers. Is that enough group pushing?
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