If you’ve ever moved from anywhere to anywhere, you know that it is quite a disorienting endeavor. If you’ve ever moved at the beginning of your third trimester, you know that it is the EXACT OPPOSITE of everything your body is telling you to do. Every hormonal cell that exists in your system is like, “We must ARRANGE THINGS! Organize things! Sanitize things!” But at the end of today, my house looked like this. Continue reading
The Liebster Award is passed along to bloggers from other bloggers. It’s meant as a way to help build up the blogging community as a whole and to enable readers to discover new blogs. Thanks for my nomination, Momma Moose — it seems like a fun way to distract myself from the fact that the movers are coming tomorrow. So instead of packing for California, I think I’ll just answer your eleven questions. 🙂 Continue reading
The first time I took Peaches to the day care she loves, she was six months old and could barely sit up unassisted. As I left her there on a floor mat, wobbling between two cooing grandma types, I couldn’t even make it to my car before I burst into embarrassing sobs. The women at the front desk definitely cringed a little. Six months is way too young to leave a baby, I thought, hiding my eyes behind massive sunglasses, and for more than a little while I resented having to work.
But as Peaches grew, she learned things. Continue reading
Full disclosure: most of the time, I kind of love being pregnant. (If you are now gagging yourself with a spoon and grappling for the red X in the corner, that’s cool. No judgment.)
But you know what? Pregnancy is incredibly weird. And by that, I mean that it is incredible, and also weird. The “incredible” factor generally involves various epiphanies containing the exclamation, “My body is capable of what?!” And the strangest part is that it exists within these two extremes simultaneously, this insanely awesome thing which is also the most unfathomably bizarre thing.
Allow me to attempt to fathom. Continue reading
UPDATE: If you arrived here via Google, you’re probably looking for this article instead. Just a hunch.
School is going on right now. MY classes are in session, right this very instant, and I am not there.
I am not a teacher anymore.
Maybe if I say it another eighty-seven times, it will finally sink in. Because right now, I definitely still feel like I have stacks of essays on a desk somewhere, and last night while I was grocery shopping I kept thinking about what I’d need to pack my lunch. But I’m not a teacher anymore. My last day was Friday. Continue reading