Things I never thought I would say as a parent: "Don't put your sister in a bag!"

Updates: Betty is about to turn one. I'm in school again taking a class about Universal Design for Learning. Tilda is awesome in her own way. Applied for another grad program in Education Leadership. 2 lbs away from my prepregnancy weight. Nothing to complain about, really.

Testing out a new app...Monarch for iPad...

Camp

Last time I went camping, I must have been in high school. My church group and I went kayaking on the James River. The only thing I recall about this trip is getting the worst sunburn I have ever had in my life, a giant spider crawling on my shoulder and manically whacking a giant spider with my paddle. Oh, and there was this annoying kid that we kept ramming our boat into.

Prior to that I went camping twice. Both times were beach camping, once with Girl Scouts in Puerto Rico and once in Bermuda as a class trip.

In short, my camping experience is lacking.

So I am not quite sure why I have decided to go to Floydfest this year with Tilda, my sister and my 8 year old niece. As has been well-documented, I am not fond of bugs. I am quite fond of air-conditioning. I have been disappointed with 50% of the live music shows I have been to. And I don't quite know how to camp.

So why am I doing this? Well, I promised my sister and my daughter. I hate breaking promises. We can't really afford to go on vacation this year, so we have been stuck at home all summer. I have been working my ass off all summer, thereby ruining the best thing about being a teacher.

But mainly it is because, at the ripe age of 29, I am old and stuck in my ways. I like routine. I like to know what to expect. I don't deal well with new things and I tend to shy away from new experiences. So this is precisely why I am forcing myself to do this. I don't want to be THAT person.

So I am doing research to try to figure out what I need to bring. And trying not to thing about bugs. Or how much I will miss air-conditioning.

Hold me.

The Lost Art of Blogging

So...um...well...how you doin'?

Tilda has a new sister. Not as full of evil as we expected.

It is becoming increasingly obvious to me that I have a terrible memory. I don't remember most of what happens to me. I have the occasional bad memory burned into my brain (like me and Mike opening our presents during our wedding reception. Seriously, didn't know any better. I know-it is appalling.) But I have forgotten lots of important things. For example, I couldn't tell you what Tilda's first word was. Or what I did yesterday. Or specifics of a vacation. Vacations are important.

I think about my grandmother who is getting more and more forgetful and mixed up and realize that is my future. And by future, I mean, like next year.

So I am resurrecting my blog because, essentially, I suck.

News that immediately comes to mind? As I mentioned, Tilda has a new sister. She thinks Tilda is a riot. This instills more fear in me than I ever thought possible (which is kinda impossible). She also just learned to roll over on her stomach but gets incredibly angry whenever it happens.

Beatrix Astrid Rose Robinson was born in the middle of the Snowpocalypse back in February. She was born on Wednesday (it snowed) and I did everything I possible could to be out of the hospital ASAP as they were predicting 20 + inches of snow to hit on Friday. Now, I had a c-section and normally they keep you at least 3 days. Then, lucky you, you get to go home in immense pain, doubled over whenever you walk.

I immediately worked on regaining feeling back in my feet (Move your big toe) and once I was up and walking, made it my mission to try to wait on myself as much as possible. The nurses were amazed at my progress but I really just didn't want to be snowbound in the hospital for over three days (since that is all my insurance would cover.) So with the doc's blessing, we went home at noon on Friday.

Storm hit at 3PM. I don't think we dug the cars out until at least Monday.

So far, she has been a fairly easy baby. She started sleeping through the night at about 4 weeks and rarely cries. She has been a little grumpier lately, but I think it is because she is teething. All in all, a good baby.

So far.

More Things I Hate About Being Pregnant

11. Additional work-I am responsible for providing lesson plans for the 3 months I will be out, so I have been working overtime (unpaid, of course) to get this accomplished within the next two months. Sounds like I have a ton of time, but this involves planning for 3 months in addition to my regular planning AND trying to find time to write mid-semester exams which will be due in 4 week. Blarg.
12. Sciatic pain. Nothing like taking a step and crying out in pain in front of 20 high schools to make you feel like a spring chicken. Seriously, they think I am ancient. And since they were all born in the early 90s, I ALSO think I am ancient.
13. Nosebleeds. Little known fact about pregnancy. I wake up in the morning with them and sometimes get them at night too. They make me feel ultra-sexy, in addition to my 25 additional pounds and nice, rotund belly.
14. Impending stretch marks. I actually didn't get stretch marks with Tilda. And it's not the marks themselves that bother me. It's the feeling of stretching. Reminds me of John Carpenter's The Thing.
15. Miss Beer-sob!

Ten things I hate about being pregnant...

1. My stomach feels like it is trying to engulf and escape my body at the same time. It is not a comfortable feeling.
2. Little known fact: babies practice karate in the womb. Practice starts at 11PM every night.
3. You regret seeing previously loved films.




















4. Pregnancy is really for 10 months. Think about it-40 weeks/4...
5. Miss beer.
6. People who previously held intelligent conversations with you about IMPORTANT STUFF now only ask you "How are you feeling?" and then allow their eyes to wander off as you respond to the very question that three other people asked you five minutes before.
7. Babies act like they are assembling IKEA furniture with your internal organs. Trust me, kid, that nerve does NOT, I repeat, does NOT bend that way.
8. You feel permitted to indulge in food that you typically deny yourself and then hate yourself for that fourth peppermint pattie.
9. Occasionally, the baby sits on a nerve, reducing your stature to that of a paraplegic, 90-year old man. If you teach high school, you also get the added bonus of being laughed at as you clutch your back in pain and limp around the room.
10. Miss beer.

Drag Me To Hell

So the trip to Ohio has come and gone. Although I would actually admit that overall it went smoother than last year, somehow it still managed to seem more awful. Probably the whole pregnancy aspect of it all.

G was surprised to see us (we hadn't told her we were coming) after the five minutes it took for her to process who we were and why we were in her house. She couldn't seem to tell ANYONE apart from one another-she routinely confused Kelly, Mom and I and the three girls due to her poor eyesight. But somehow she managed to see well enough to punch me in the stomach (thanks, G).

She seemed to be in good spirits. We took her to lunch at the oh-so-elegant-Olive-Garden where Kelly tantalized me with a delicious-looking tropical sangria. (This is after a dinner where Kelly tantalized me with a delicious looking Pineapple Martini (pineapples marinated in vodka, a most excellent idea) and the next day with a swell-looking Bass. ) We tried to converse with her at her house but her without a hearing aid and us without heavy metal concert-quality loudspeakers made it quite difficult. That and the children had decided that they did not like the way she had arranged things in her house and they wanted to do something about it.

Traveling with three small children is just tiring. While they were pretty good overall, late nights, cramped quarters, and just the issue of being children made it an exhausting trip. And convinced me that two kids might just be a horrible, horrible idea.

But hopefully Twoie will actually like me. I had known for some time now that my niece Calliope was not fond of me. She glares at me whenever I am around her. Or she scrunches up her nose and turns away. But this trip I found out that she actually HATES me. For one, she can't quite pronounce my name. This is pretty common for an almost-two-year-old of course. But while my mom gets a nickname like "Baba" and Maddy got "Dida," I ended up with "Wee-wee." Which my mother finds ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS. She thought it necessary to link Clio's nickname for me with my current uncontrollable fascination with bathroom stops. For which I am currently looking for a blacklist of those really bad nursing homes where they abuse residents.

But the worst is that Clio will not trust me with her stuff. Mom and Kelly are sitting up front and I'm sitting next to Clio in the middle row. Clio wants a pacifier. I reach down to get it and hand it to her. Clio throws a fit and will not take it. Kelly (who is driving) reaches down and passes it to Clio. Clio takes it happily. Clio wants to hand something to Kelly. I offer to pass it for her. Clio cries and snatches it away. Kelly reaches her hand out. Clio struggles to reach her but passes her the object.

But the worst incident was towards the end, after Kelly had been sitting next to Clio for a while. We traded places and Clio takes one look at me, starts crying and wails "Wee-wee! Sit!" I feel like I have killed her puppy.

On this trip, I also ate way too much junk food. I used this voyage as an opportunity to act on some of the cravings I had been having and consumed fried chicken, a bowl of sausage gravy, muffins, mashed potatoes, bagels, biscuits, a multitude of lollipops, cookie ice cream sandwiches, a Blizzard and, most importantly, five White Castles. I went for days without fruit (unless you count the lollipops and the half-banana in the Blizzard). Needless to say, today I have been restricting myself to foods that can actually be found in nature without the interference of mankind. Chocolate chip cookies can be found in the wild, yes?

This may also explain why this past weekend was probably the last weekend I can get away without maternity clothes. This is possibly what I have been dreading the most (besides the absence of alcohol). I despise clothes shopping, especially when I will have to buy pieces that I can only wear for 7 months. Despite searching for stuff on Freecycle and Craigslist, I have yet to find cheap clothes so it looks like I am going to have to part with money (sigh) and buy myself some clothes.

Unfortunately, I can't really see myself making this trip again next year. This was my third year in a row, so one can't say I haven't tried. Its just that the idea of traveling with FOUR small children fills me with more dread than is humanly possible. Especially if one of those children is MY 6 month old baby (meaning I can't pass it off to someone else to take care of). So I don't know what I am going to do. Mom and Kelly are already guilting me and I am enough of a pushover that I will probably go along with it. Maybe if I get one of those roof storage things...babies like the wind in their hair, right?