Getting old...

After two recent events I have no choice but to conclude that I am getting old...not in the numerical sense, that would be ridiculous. No one in his right mind would claim that 26 years is old. Rather, in the grand scheme of life stage, I am getting old. Let me relate the two incidents and you decide.

Incident One: We were spending a quiet evening at my parents' house a few days after Christmas. The family was set to enjoy the Aggie game (a disappointment that Aggie fans have learned to deal with of late). After most major plays of the game (the game changers if you will) my sister pulled out her cell phone and began to busily text message someone. It matters not to whom the message was sent nor does the content of the message matter much. Rather my reaction is what, in hindsight, concerns me...my only thought -- at first private and silent only to later be voiced -- was "can't you just call the person?". I had and have no idea what the draw is to the text message. My sister's ability to text only irritated me. I attempted to justify my irritation by rationalizing that text messages are the cause for the deterioration of the written word not to mention the utter disintegration of the spoken interaction. But in all reality there is no justification for my irritation except to admit that I am old.

Incident Two: Since the addition of children to our lives, Luke and I have found typical "childless" celebrations difficult. New Year's Eve for example proves to be quite the challenge. Last year we braved the event sans-child and had a wonderful time. This year, with a new addition to the family an adult celebration was out of the question. So the Pearsons celebrated the New Year by hanging out on the couch. Luke and I lasted as late as we could stand it. After two rousing episodes of "Jon and Kate plus 8" (we watch the show to make ourselves feel better. As crazy as our life is, it could be much crazier -- finding comfort in other's pain is cruel, yes, but nonetheless helpful.) Luke and I called it quits around 11:30pm. Any parent knows that a newborn in the house means that you can fall asleep instanteously. Consequently Luke and I were sound asleep by 11:31pm. Around midnight-ish, I was awakened by the sound of loud fireworks from some of the neighbor's kids. My first thought, however, was not "Oh it's midnight. I should kiss my husband." No, no -- my first thought was "Dang kids and fireworks -- if they wake the boys I will seriously go outside and kick someone's backside." Again, upon waking and relating this story to Luke I was and am forced to conclude only one thing...I am getting old. These kids had every legal right to discharge fireworks and even moreso the timing they chose was extremely appropriate, yet their disturbance of my very precious sleep was so aggravating that I forgot all these things.

Uggghhh...I hope I regain some youth as my boys get older...otherwise within the month I will be heading to bed by 4:30 in the afternoon...

Merry Christmas from The Pearson family!!

a long time coming

I would like to pen a lengthy explanation as to why it has been almost a month since my last post and how the drought has been caused by a serious overload of schedule. Unfortunately while yes I have been incredibly busy, the drought has been caused pregnancy brain. I simply have had no intelligent thought in weeks...actually months...

We have had a particularly busy start of school which is the prompt for this particular post. What is it that makes some parents crazy? I would attempt a different adjective but really only "crazy" will suffice. I have a particular parent who emails me at least 4 times a day to complain about some facet of my class. This same parent refuses to meet in person to discuss the perceived complications, refuses to encourage his child to attend tutorials, refuses to listen to logical reasoning. He is the quintessential "helicopter parent." So here lies the exigence for this post. My course is in essence a collegiate level composition course and I manage it as one would expect for a collegiate level course. Yet the parents I encounter seem to fail to recognize this fact. I wonder, will this same father call his daughter's professors in college to complain about their class averages, book prices and availability and temperature of the room? My answer -- yes without a doubt he will. Parents like this man are physically unable to allow their children the room to grow personally and academically independent from mom and dad.

As a parent this is a rather disturbing trend. I want Jack (and Sam when he arrives) to be as successful as possible; I want the boys to have every opportunity available. What then will keep me from becoming one of these helicopter parents? Is the possibility (or even scarier the probability) within my parental DNA even as I type? Or must something happen, something snap to make me stalk with no remorse anyone and everyone who might stand in the way of my child's success? Ugghhh...I hope I can maintain some perspective.

That's all I have for now. I am off to watch more Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, to play more football and to gestate appropriately. (By the way...countdown to Sam is 58 days!)

Tag

I decided to do this because...well primarily because I have no other inspiration at the moment and I thought it might be fun.

The Rules:

1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.

2. Each player starts with 8 random facts/habits about themselves.

3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog (about their 8 things) and post these rules.

4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose people to get tagged and list their names.

5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

1. It was said of me after a particularly energizing class discussion last year that I hate stupid people. My secret: while I don't hate stupid people I do have zero tolerance for individuals who fail to exercise the basic of human intelligence. For instance, those who choose to drive while under the influence of anything that is mind-altering are the epitome of this category. Others in this category are those who have a God-given talent in the brain department and choose to act like imbociles.

2. I have an unnatural affection for baby cows. I don't know why...and don't care. I just happen to think they are some of the cutest things God makes!

3. Snakes are my top phobia. While this may not seem to be unusual I have to admit that regardless of the type of snake, I have nightmares about boa constrictors or pythons or whatever they are called...you know...the big brown spotted ones that squeeze people. Those are the ones I am afraid of in my dreams and the ones I "see" in the murky water. Yes I know that these aren't native to Texas...but people release exotic animals all the time. Didn't you hear about the fisherman who caught a pirana in a Texas river??

4. I am currently listening to Veggie Tales "Hokey Pokey"...enough said.

5. I have always wanted to be a doctor. Since I was a small child it was the one thing I knew I wanted to do. Then I grew up and realized how long of a commitment med school required and knew that it might interfere with my childbearing and nixed that idea. Secretly, I still wonder how I would do on the MCAT...if I could study a little. Surprisingly, despite my penchant for words, I have never wanted to pursue law. Never...

6. I am a gossip-monger. There is a distinction to be made here. I do not care in the slightest about celebrity gossip -- I don't know those people. I LOVE gossip about the folks I know though. I don't have a desire to hurt people...so I don't spread bad gossip...but I love to KNOW everything!

7. I have a chemical imbalance that prevents me from putting dirty clothes in a hamper. The only place I can place them is on my floor. The same imbalance prevents me from putting my shoes in my room...they stay in the common room. When I lived at home they lived in the den, now that I have my own home they are scattered across the entire downstairs. My mom secretly hopes that I will outgrow this...things don't look promising.

8. My pizza fordinner (shipped from the BEST pizzeria in Chicago -- Gino's East) is ready...so this is it!

The waiting place

I admit it...I am a Dr. Seuss fan. I read his books to Jack, I have used them in my classes to teach everything from TAKS short-answer responses to creative detail in writing to parts of speech, rhyming and a host of other skills. One of my favorites surfaces annually in May; entitled Oh the Places You'll Go the story is an inspiring tale of what lies ahead at the cusp of a major life change. I regularly gift this to new grads -- its inspiration while simplistic is so very often appropriate. It is one of the few books, child's or otherwise, that gives me chills every time I read it.

But this blog is not a book review. I mention Dr. Seuss because in his book of Places there is made mention of the Waiting Place. Different from the doldrums, the Waiting Place is where folks just sit around and wait for things to happen. Dr. Seuss in his wisdom encourages the story's character to run from the Waiting Place -- to get out there and make things happen.

I seem to find myself in the Waiting Place. Unfortunately, it also seems that I am unable to force things to get out and happen. I am stuck in transition -- before it is really time to start getting ready for work, before we know whether to paint the nursery pink or blue, before I can really buy lots of new clothes for the bulbous shape I will surely take...before before before.

I desperately wish I could get out of the Waiting Place and make things happen...but for now I will be content to write as many details for school as I can in my planner and to search the internet for the perfect shade of blue and pink and scavenger clothing stores for future sales...and that will have to suffice...for now...until I am done waiting.

A Myth Debunked

When I started out on this blogging road, I vowed to use it as a place of intellectually stimulating thought -- and if not intellectually stimulating I hoped to at least pen interesting babble. Thus when the news of our latest bundle of joy reached us I decided that after the initial announcement this blog would not contain weeks upon weeks of pregnancy chatter; after all nothing is more boring than when someone assumes his/her life position is the only world affair (think of all the annoying brides you have ever met). However, I feel I must address one particular piece of pregnancy information. Most women know that there is a list of common misconceptions regarding pregnancy; those that don't know have probably never been around a pregnant person before. It's true -- there are tales that are passed along generational lines about what pregnancy is and it is only when you experience the joys and "joys" of pregnancy do you realize that the tales are completely FALSE. There isn't room here to even list all of the inaccuracies held about the miracle of gestation. Furthermore, the subject has already been addressed time over again. While a decent writer, I will leave these diatribes to the professionals. My favorite is Diary of a Mad Mom to Be by Laura Wolf -- an exceptionally hilarious tale of the ups and downs of pregnancy.

My issue lies in the idea of pregnant weight. Before we (as women) decide to take the leap and become a human incubator there is the assumption that we will be allowed to eat whatever we want whenever we choose; the weight that comes with this eating is to be expected as well. Well hold onto your cheetos sister, because that is not the case. Weight is watched more closely in pregnancy than on the runways of Paris and Milan. Granted the baby within each woman outweighs the models in the analogy but you get the point. It is not with the focus on weight that I take issue. It is more with the mindset of the pregnant mother. In the world of pregnancy it is "fashionable" to gain as little weight as possible but to have as bulbous a belly as one can muster. It is a dangerous conundrum to fall victim to. So my pregnant friends, it is time we embrace the fact that we are merely hosts for our growing children and despite what we hope, the relationship during gestation is not symbiotic. To those who have yet to take the road toward parenthood know that yes you may get fat, you may get a bulbous belly or you may not. One thing is for certain...you will love the tiny life that widens your feet, your hips and for some your nose in a way you have never loved anything or anyone else.

The proof is in the pudding...

I don't know where that phrase originated and if I wasn't the mommy of possibly the busiest and most precocious two year old little boy I would in fact probably research the etymology. But I am and he is...so I won't.

I just typed an entire post...only to then delete it. Why? Because in my desire to be thought-provoking while maintaining a level of anonymity for my muse, I failed. After having spoken to my very level-headed and extremely wise husband, I have changed my position on the topic. Yes my ambiguity is astounding...but know that through this...I have learned a valuable lesson -- do not be too hasty in my judgment -- of anyone...particularly of one's motives. That said, I bid you adieu. I'm off to Chicago for the 4th. Fare the well!