Pregnancy Journal #4

Officially two weeks from due date!  And baby C is making me very aware of that.  Constant kicks, constant punching of my bladder, and constant giant kankles.  Babe is bored and ready to make a dramatic appearance, I'm sure.  It's been a pretty dreamy 38 weeks, but daddyDan and I are getting anxious to meet the little one who requires so much ice cream, fruit, and sour candy.  

Best stranger or student quotes:

• Over-enthusiastic student:  "Mrs. Carlson, awwwwwww, you look so lovely.  You gonna go all-natural when you give birth?"
• Sonic car-hop (said when I was only 32 weeks pregz):  "Oooooooooo girl, that baby coming any day now, right?!"  "Nope.  Still have 2 months."  "NOOOOOO!  That is one BIG baby!"  

Sleeping:  These days I wake up at least 3 times a night.  Actually, that's a bit of a lie.  I've been waking up at least 3 times a night ever since December.  What has changed is now when I wake up, my body feels like I've just run a marathon.  I literally have to tell myself:  "Self, you have been SLEEPING.  You did not just do P90X nor did you participate in bikram yoga.  You literally make no sense right now."  I'm also excessively sweaty at night.  I've had two fans pointed directly at me and no covers while #daddyDan freezes beside me.

Getting "checked":  You all know I like to keep these posts G-rated, but I must give you the following information.  At 35 or 36 weeks, pregoz have the option to get "checked" by the doctor/midwife to see if dilation has occurred.  I dodged that bullet at 35 weeks but was not given the option at 36 weeks.  I won't name any names, but someone (whose name rhymes with Hammy) told me not to worry and that getting "checked" is less invasive than a yearly physical.  LIES.  ALL LIES.  Let's just say I wanted to die and was seeing stars afterward.  Sooooo at my 37 week appointment when the midwife asked if I'd like to be checked, I kindly declined.  Um, I'd rather you not jam your arm inside me up to your elbow.  No thanks, walking on lava sounds much better right now.   Mmkay, see you next week WHEN I WON'T HAVE A CHOICE (Lord, grant me the serenity...).

Food:  Danz works with a gal who is about 6 weeks behind me in her pregnancy.  About two weeks ago, she mentioned to him that she can no longer eat full meals because the baby is taking up too much room.  Quoth daddyDan:  "Hmm, interesting.  Heidi hasn't hit that point in her pregnancy."  TRUTH.  Baby has, in no way, diminished my ability to shovel any amount of food into my stomach.  Not sure if I should be concerned or just really proud of this fact.  I aim to impress, people.

Car rides:  ARE OF THE DEVIL.  There is nothing I loathe more than sitting in a car at this stage of my pregnancy.  Except maybe getting "checked" (see above).   End of story.

Water breakage precaution:  daddyDan is seriously concerned about my water breaking anywhere that would require clean-up.  He's so concerned, in fact, that I must sit on a towel while driving and I'm probably about a week from being required to sit on a towel on our couch.  We do have an awesome couch, so I'll humor him. 

Birthing class:  I had Braxton Hicks contractions throughout the whole class.  I think baby C was just warming up.  So bizarre. Daniel and I also laughed 56% more than everyone else combined.  Not because we think labor and delivery is hilarious, but because there were so many words and images that we could either choose to cry about in anticipation of or laugh because, one way or another, this baby is coming out of me. 

Prayers for baby C:  During the first two trimesters, I prayed for EVERYTHING:  a good (and easy!) birth, a healthy baby, a baby that isn't collicky, ease in the transition, ease of nursing, yada, yada, yada.  Then about 2 months ago I realized that I couldn't pray away all the challenging aspects of labor, delivery, and post-partum.  So now I pray for peace in the transition.  That Daniel and I will work as a team to meet baby's needs and that we will take every challenge and immediately turn it over to the Lord.  Parenting will be difficult, of this I am certain.  BUT I have the best baby daddy of all time and a God who is bigger than my fear of all the things baby-entering-the-family.  Amen.

Pregnancy Journal #3

Let's dive right in, shall we?

Emotions:  Holy hot pickle on a scorching Sunday afternoon.  These emotions.  They are my nemesis.  A few short days ago, hysterical laughter turned into hysterical tears without any warning.  By nature, I'm a bit of a procrastinator. So I'm 31 weeks into this whole "being pregnant for the first time" thing and I hadn't spent one second looking for child-birthing classes.  Shame. Finally when I remembered to look, ALL classes in Topeka, Lawrence, Olathe, and Overland Park were either booked or at times when we're out of town or have a major event.  Not even kidding.  At first, when when I shared this conundrum with #daddydan, I about died laughing.  Then reality struck and the tears started to fall.  Poor daddy Dan.  His response?  Unprompted by yours truly, he picks up the phone and starts calling hospitals in a 60 mile radius to ask about birthing classes.  Meanwhile, I'm sniffling and wiping snot on his t-shirt (because his t-shirts are the only ones that fit me anymore...cue more tears).  #besthusbandever

Itchy Everything:  I'm just itchy.  Always.  Apparently my skin is stretching (??) and a side-effect is itchiness.  Not a big deal.  Except when you get paid to stand in front of teenagers for 8 hours a day.  Let's just say I think I've perfected the art of nonchalant itching.  Just don't verify with my co-teachers.

Kankles:  I've never been one to have chubby ankles, but now it seems as though they are part of my daily wardrobe.  Said ankles are so chubby that some of my socks don't fit.  Truth.

Nesting:  If baby coconut came tomorrow, he/she would be sharing a room with bags of clothes waiting to be donated/sold, painting supplies, suitcases galore, and enough furniture to fill a small flea market.  Dear friends, daddy Dan and I talked through our "must happen before baby coconut arrives" list and we were so overwhelmed that our only reaction was to continue swinging on our newly installed porch swing.  About every day I remind myself that nothing that "needs to happen" truly needs to happen.  It's going to be okay.

Gender:  I have my suspicions about what baby C is, but apparently since my suspicions aren't based in science (aka: sonogram), people don't believe me.  Whatever.  I will laugh my "told you so" laugh when baby arrives...or I will laugh my "I'm always wrong" chortle.  Whichever color baby C comes home in will become my new favorite color, of this I am certain.

Shakira:  Just call me Shak because my hips don't lie.  Pajama pants that used to be baggy on me are now excessively taut.  Supposedly this is because I'm about to push out a head that is in the 99th percentile (quoth the doctor: "you know, the head is the most difficult part to get out." NBD.)(and daddy Dan is still reigning champion of the widest shoulders in McPherson county...you think I kid, but I assure you I could not be more serious).  Bring it, baby C.  My hips were made for birthing, and that's just what they'll do. 

Prayer:  My most recent prayer comes from the book that is currently rocking my world - Restless by Jennie Allen (do yourself a favor and read it).  I pray that baby C's "soul is steadied and secure because his/her eyes are laser-focused on the one who built and rescued his/her soul."  Amen and amen. 

31 weeks down.  9 to go.  We press on!

Pregnancy Journal #2

Greetings, sweet readers.  Per the usual, I have many thoughts.  Last night as I was word-vomitting to Danz (typical), I stopped and said, "You do know that I just need to hear myself say this."  His response: "Yeah, I figured that out about 10 minutes ago."  Lolz.  I just gotz lotz of thoughtz in my head and they ALL need to be said or written. So without further adieu, here are some of the latest  capers of baby scallion.

Daycare.  Let's just go here first.  People, BUCKETS of tears have already been shed about this one.  Completely serious.  Most would think the financial piece of daycare would frighten me (which, by the way, HOLY COW, how can something so small cost so much!!?!?  Talk about sticker shock...).  But it's not the price that bothers me so much.  I'm just already so dang attached to the little scallion swimming inside me and head-banging after I eat sweets.  And the idea that someone else will get to hang out with the little stinker 8 hours a day is killing me.  Mommas of littles in daycare, I completely welcome any encouragement you could offer.  You guys, it's gotten so bad this week that I actually texted Daniel on Tuesday and requested that he swing home in the afternoon because I was such a hot mess.  Full disclosure - I have yet to vomit as a result of this pregnancy, but I actually threw up on Tuesday thinking about daycare.  I got it bad for this little person inside me.  Who knew I could love someone so much without even knowing if it'll have the petname "sis" or "buddy"? 

Shin splints.  I'm not a runner.  I tried once several years ago and it was okay.  But my gangly body, I'm convinced, is just not built to run.  It's built to be graceful and dainty (hahahahahahahaha, nope).  Instead I prefer to walk.  Plus, then I can actually carry on a conversation with someone or hear myself think instead wheezing the whole time.  My co-teacher bestie, Courtney, and I have been walking a few times a week after school.  And I have developed shin-splints.  Those closest to me don't believe me and even laugh (how cruel, right!?), but I swear to you it's true.  Maybe my body just isn't accustomed to carrying extra weight or maybe I'm waddling when I'm walking.  But whatever it is, it's weird.  And painful.  And hilarious.  The only other time I've experienced pain like this is when I ran long-distance in 8th grade (cue uproarious laughter).  So I had my mom write a note to my track coach explaining that I could no longer compete in the 2 mile.  So cute, I know.

Registering.  Pregnant mommas, this it the only piece of unsolicited advice I will give you.  Take a seasoned momma with you to register.  Otherwise I promise you will implode.  We are thankful to have a momma of twins in our midst (holla sis-in-law Tammy!), so we coerced her into joining us.  And I just made her make all my decisions.  I quite literally would have burst into tears in every aisle.  Especially the bottles.  Um, excuse me, but is it really necessary to have 85,000 types of nipples?  Perhaps, but to this emotional and extremely hormonal prego, it was just stress-inducing.  Our first stop (Baby's R Us) was hilarious and actually enjoyable, but by the time we got to Target, my eyes had glazed over and I just made Danz and Tammy make all the decisions.  I was done and overwhelmed.  But it's done.  And I think we did a bang-up job. 

Nesting.  Not really happening yet.  I've looked at the closets in the nursery three times already with the full intention that I will clean them out and get them ready.  I stare for about 3 minutes then decide that I still have time, so I close the door and walk away.  The nursery is painted (have I told you that my parents and I actually painted it last summer in hopes that baby scallion might make its presence known sometime this school year?  Well, we did.  #typeA) and I'm in the middle of making valances, ordering black-out blinds, and prepping for carpet.  But other than that, the nesting has yet to officially begin. 

Belly-rubbing. Those of you who follow me on facebook might remember a post from a few months ago:  "I experienced my first unauthorized belly-touching today. Not only did I flinch at the awkwardness and suddenness of the pat, but I also yelped a little. Pregnant women, unite!"  I've identified why it bothered me so much.  While it was sweet that the Mexican exchange student just wanted to touch baby blueberry, she was quite literally just touching my stomach.  The babe was extremely low at that time, and there was no way I was going to say, "Oh sweet student, the baby is lower!  Just move your hand about 8 inches down."  #awkward  But now that the bump is finally visible (holla tall pregos who don't show until week 23, I get you) I love it when people touch it.  Within reason.  I'm sure my first stranger-danger touch will make me bust out my two Taekwondo moves, but I love it when friends and family get all up in my bidness.  Especially girlies who have never been pregnant.  They're the best.  Their eyes get all sparkly when I point out the head and the legs and the bum.  So fun.  So if I see you, I give you full permission to wax on.

Prayer.  I'll end on a more serious note.  My current prayer for baby scallion is that (s)he'll be a leader and not a follower.  That (s)he'll know from an early age that mops and pops love him/her but that Jesus loves him/her even more.  That (s)he'll be more concerned with honoring Jesus than pleasing others.  That (s)he'll use his/her influence to change the world.  And that (s)he'll have a killer head of hair and not need braces.  It's the little things.  

#14moreweeks

Marital Quirks

The longer I'm married (3 1/2 years, holla!), the more I realize how bizarre marriage makes you.  And I think it's absolutely fabulous.  Danz and I have developed about a billionty common quirks throughout our tenure together.  Now, it's important to note that I'm not telling you these just for kicks.  Instead, I'm telling you these so you can feel some solidarity in the fact that there are people in the world quirkier than you.  Without further adieu, here are two reasons why the Carlsons are quirktastic (not to be confused with twerktastic...as that would not be appropriate blog material...mom, don't look that up).

This was taken on our honeymoon segway tour of Savannah, Georgia.  Little did we know, months and years of marriage makes one totes cray.

Quirk 1:  I have a handful of shirts that have small, entirely useless, pockets on them.  Ladies, you've got to know what I'm talking about.  The pockets are merely a stylistic addendum that serve no practical purpose.  Even before Daniel and I were dating, whenever I would wear a shirt with a tiny pocket, he would try to put things in it...like pieces of gum or keys or chapstick. All of this put-pocketing has led us to creating a song that must be sung whenever a small-pocketed-shirt is worn.  And it goes like this:  "I put small things in my pockets.  I put small things in my pockets!"  Yes.  You'll notice the second sentence ends with an exclamation mark because, if I were singing it to you, the inflection of my voice would go up and my eyebrows would raise.  It's okay if you want to call us genius song-writers.  We'll gladly dust our shoulders off and write another song someday.

Quirk 2:   One of my nicknames for Daniel is "Flurff and turf and flurff and turf and surf, woo."  I'm not even kidding.  And here's how that lolific name came to be:  we used to call each other fluffy - maybe because we like fluffy pillows or because we would fight over the same fluffy blanket??  Who knows.  Naturally, I couldn't continue calling him such a simple name.  Simplicity is for the birds.  Must. Make. Life. Complicated.  So one of us added an "r" which made the nickname "Flurffy."  And then in a further attempt to rhyme the nickname with every possible word under the sun, I added several more nouns ("surf" and "turf" on an average day, "smurff" when I'm feeling really spunky).  The "woo" at the end just adds the pizazz that sends the nickname over the top. 

So happy Valentine's day to you all.  May your day be filled with quirktastic things that remind you how unbelievably hilarious this life really is.  

Pregnancy Journal 1

I've got lots to say.  No seriously, this could end up being the longest post ever.  And my guess is that my mother and perhaps two other people will be the only ones who make it through.  You see, ever since we found out I'm pregnant (October 10 to be exact), I've wanted to sit down and write about my pregnancy......but those dang pregnancy hormones.......they've just gotten the best of me (more on that later).  So here we are, almost 19 weeks in, and I have so much to say.  Brace yourselves, this could be a strange mixture of hilarity and strangeness.

Finding out:  It was a brisk fallish day when I first took a pregnancy test in October.  Scratch that.  I took 5 pregnancy tests over the period of 2 days.  Not because I was in shock and wanted to confirm, but because I kept doing it wrong.  Yes.  If you've ever wondered, yes, you can take a pregnancy test wrong.  Something about avoiding shaking it.  Whatevs.  After the fifth test, I still was only slightly convinced.  So I didn't even tell Daniel - although I thought about it, I wanted to be sure I was pregnant before I told him.  I almost told him in frustration after the ordeal.  You see, we were in the middle of "taking care of the leaves" season and I was tasked with starting to bag the leaves as soon as I got home from work on that particular Thursday.  And by the time he got home (at his usual time, he wasn't running late), my back was already sore and I was hating everything about what I was doing that I almost said, "I hate this so much and I can't believe I have to do it BECAUSE I'M PREGNANT!!!"  But I believe the Lord worked a miracle and closed my mouth so as not to ruin what would otherwise be a beautiful moment. Moving on.  Three days later I took another test....you know, just to confirm...and what do you know, the plus sign was big and bold.  Hooray!  When I showed Daniel the test, his first words were, "It worked!"  TMI?  #sorrynotsorry  Ha!  Then we went to church (it was a Sunday) and I don't remember anything about the service.  Not a thing.  So blissful.

8 weeks:  I took yet another pregnancy test.  By this point I had literally had zero side-effects.  (Sorry mamas who have horribly painful/uncomfortable first trimesters.)  Yep, still pregz. 

10 weeks:  First doctor's appointment.  The midwife struggled to find the heartbeat.  There were a few terrifying seconds when she said, "Are you sure you're pregnant?"  I wanted to scream, "YES WOMAN!!!  I TOOK 7 PREGNANCY TESTS AND DID AT LEAST 2 OF THEM RIGHT!"  Again, the Lord held my tongue and I just said, "Yes."  They proceeded to do a sonogram and then we saw and heard the little bean.  Whoa.  What a powerful moment.  Heartbeat - 181.  And smiles all around.  I even swear I saw the bean smile.

10 weeks, 2 days:  We FINALLY got to tell our families.  Daniel and I decided to wait until after the first appointment to tell our people and, let me tell you, it was the longest 6 weeks EVER.  It was so fun to tell my family about the first grandbaby and Danz' family the 8th grandbaby.  I literally could not sleep the night before we told because I was so excited...and so strangely nervous!  I'm super sentimental, so I just had to have an object with which to announce.  My family is all about shoes, so we told my family using baby shoes.  And Daniel's family plays this card game called Priscilla so we used that to our advantage (see pics below).  Fun memories.

11 weeks:  This is when the nausea began.  To this day I still haven't thrown up, but OH MY WORD I felt like passing out every moment of every day for about 10 days.  My cure was eating one Saltine (Daniel thinks it was placebo...whatevs) right when my alarm went off in the morning.  Worked like a charm.  Consider that nausea beat.  Curse you, nausea.  You are never welcome back.  Mamas who battle nausea all throughout pregnancy, I salute you.

12-15 weeks:  Holy exhaustion. Without a nap after school every day, my bedtime was 8 pm.  Not even kidding.  And holy hunger.  At least 3 snacks in between breakfast and lunch and often just as many between lunch and supper.  Poor students.  They still didn't know at this point so they probably thought I was just chubby and hungry.  On the last day before Christmas break, I told most of my students.  Aaaaaaaand it was hilarious.  Many clapped.  Some cheered.  Some didn't care and were annoyed (remember, these are teenagers).  One girl said she wished she had known earlier so she could've thrown me a shower (awwww).  I assured her that I still had 6 months to be pregnant, so there would be plenty of time for such festivities.    

16-18 weeks: Sleeping is a total B.  I'm on my feet most of the day and moving almost constantly that I think the little blueberry doesn't know what to do when I go to bed.  It's all, "Um mom, this is not okay.  I have lots of energy and would prefer that you keep moving.  Mmkay, thanks."  And I'm all, "Sweet little blueberry, I'm done for the day.  Feel free to move about the uterus, but I'm just gonna stay put.  Mmkay, thanks."  (Um, ladies, how fun is it to talk to something inside you?!?!?  Let me just say - that's one of my favorite parts of being pregnant.)  I've had lots of back pain and hip pain and stomach cramps and leg pain, but it's totes okay because baby bell pepper (sis-in-law Roxanne's current nickname and baby's current size) is HEALTHY and active.  And I couldn't be happier about that.

Miscellaneous:

• I'm due June 22.  That gives me 4 weeks after school gets out and 6 weeks before school starts again.  And since babies ALWAYS come on their due dates, this will work out perfectly...as all my plans do.  LOLZ.
• We're not finding out the gender. (Gasp!  Yikes! Sigh!  What!?!  You crazy.)  Yes to all.  We're seriously looking forward to the "it's a......!!" moment.  Yep I'm a planner and yep this is totally unlike me.  But I'm pretty pumped.  
• I am indeed headed back to work in the fall.  The awesome part about having a baby in the summer is that I'll be able to take as much time off as I want without using all my sick leave (that's the way our district works maternity...if you want it paid, you cash in sick days).  I'm planning to go back mid-September, so I'll only miss about 4 weeks with students.  Perfect, no?
• Daniel is a champ.  I have been an emotional disaster for the past 6 weeks and he just takes it all in stride.  When I burst into tears at dinner, he just listens and then lets me lay on the couch and cry while he cleans up.  Sounds pitiful, I know, but it's really okay.
• My students have been hilarious. Several times a week they ask how big it is.  A few weeks ago one of them touched the belly without being authorized.  One asked, "Is it ever weird that there's something ALIVE in you!?"  Many are irritated that we're not finding out the gender.  

So there you have it.  Seriously, I will be impressed if you made it here.  Consider this the first of several pregnancy journals.  I'm sure I'll be back with more hilarious and ridiculous things that occur over the next 21 weeks.  What a journey!  We're loving every bit of it. :)

Prayer Group Update

Approximately 4 months ago, I wrote a post titled "Ladies of Topeka!!!" wherein I called women in Topeka to come to my house early on Thursday mornings for prayer and coffee.  Since that time, I've had quite a few questions as to how it's going.  To be honest?  It has been fantastic.  I've truly loved every Wednesday night because I'm looking forward to Thursday morning.  I've had a handful of dedicated women come to share and pray every week.  The best part?  I'm the common bond between all the women...BUT what's been so cool is that even though these women were, for the most part, strangers, they've gotten to know each other and have been able to be transparent and open.  So awesome.

Some of you love details.  In fact, my guess is that some of you would really like to attend but haven't because you're a bit unsure as to what we "do" each time we meet.  Well, here's a very real breakdown of our time together:
6:30-6:35 - snag some coffee and find a comfy spot on the couch
6:35-6:50 - share prayer request updates (we work really hard to be a group who prays more than shares...sometimes when women share, we get lost in our emotions, but we've found that when we pray, our real heart is shown and our friends are able to see what's really going on....unbelievably amazing)
6:50-7:10 - pray - we each pray 3 times and we pray through layers like an onion - we pray for ourselves and things WE can change (our attitudes, our feelings, our emotions, our situations, etc.), then we pray for our immediate families (our husbands, kids, etc.), and then we pray for people who we regularly have direct influence over (I pray for a few choice students, other women pray for co-workers or friends), and finally, we pray for our church/community
7:10-??? - second to the prayer time, this is my favorite.  We respond to each other's prayer.  After hearing our friends' specific prayer request, this is the time that we either ask follow-up questions or offer words of encouragement that we received while hearing her prayer.  Incredibly powerful.
7:15 - I head out...........sometimes the women leave when I do, other times they stay until.....I guess I don't know, but they're always gone when I get home around 4. :)

So, girlfriend, if you live in Topeka, please come.  You won't know what an incredible blessing this prayer group could be for you until you give it a try.  We promise it will be casual, low-key, and encouraging.  So please come.  I promise you will be blessed.  And that sleep you'll miss?  Don't even worry about it.  As my mom says, "Sleep is overrated."

First Year Teacher Stories: Part I

As of the last few weeks, something has been heavy on my heart.  Not in a "I feel convicted about this and must confess" sort of way.  More like "I have hilarious stories from 3 years ago that MUST be made public" sort of way.   You see, sweet readers, while I may be in my fourth year of teaching (my goodness, that makes me feel of the elder persuasion), I was once a bumbling mess of a first year teacher.  And yes, I mean BUMBLING - like, trip over bookbags (oh wait, that still happens), misspeak while saying "get out your sheets of paper" (gotta keep it G-rated on this here blog), and literally pull on my hair while yelling, "Just PLEASE LISTEN!" (sadly, yes, that happened). 

The point is:  I got stories.  And these stories - they must be told.  And while this is titled "part I," if I find that telling these stories actually brings up all sorts of terrible memories, there may not be a part II.  However, if, as I suspect, I find that these stories continue to humor men, women, and children of all ages, there will be parts II-XIV.  So pull up your bootstraps pal, for this could be a long ride. 

I'll begin with my first "in front of the class meltdown."  It's a doozy, I tell ya.  You should know that this story takes place during my 6th hour.  And if you have been a faithful reader for the past 3 years, you know that my 6th hour that first semester was horrid.  HORRID.  And that's not an exaggeration. 

The day of the meltdown I had created a stupid lesson.  I had the kids read all sorts of nonsense about F. Scott Fitzgerald and then write a paragraph about his life.  Sounds all good and fun, right?  Apparently not.  My 6th hour moaned and groaned as I gave the assignment, but I thought, "Silly kids.  They'll soon find out that this is the bee's knees."  Oh friends, I was so wrong (about so many things that first year). 

During the independent work time for this particular lesson, I remember zooming from kid to kid attempting to answer questions but failing miserably (you see, I hadn't learned yet that you should really attempt the assignment before asking the kids to do so...rookie mistake).   The kiddos were so confused and I clearly didn't have an answer for them.  And they kept talking!  Can you believe it?  Teenagers were talking after I asked them not to!?  Oh the humanity!!!  So I warned them that they better stop....or else.....  I seriously had no plan B.  So kept warning them thinking they'll get the hint.  Sadly, they didn't.

Finally I said, "If you don't stop talking and do your work, I'm going to take the assignment from you and you're going to have to come in on your own time to finish it!!!"  I didn't even think I meant it.  But 20 seconds later, I had this strange out-of-body experience and I heard myself say, no, yell, "THAT'S IT!  EVERYONE HAND FORWARD YOUR PAPERS.  WE'RE MOVING ON!!!!"  And internally, I was all, "Heidi (curse word, curse word, curse word), what are you doing!?!?  You have nothing to move on to!!!  You better think fast, you crazy woman, or this is going to get even more out of hand."

And the best part about the moment?  I really thought I was teaching the kids a lesson.  You know, you don't do you work, you're going to pay, suckers.  You better call home and let mom and pops know you'll be staying after (insert evil laugh).  Oh how wrong I was.  Their response as they handed forward their papers?  Cheers.  Laughter.  High-fives.  I kid you not.  Which, of course, only made me angrier. 

By this point, I was literally shaking and sweat was pouring out of every pore on my body.  But I took a deep breath, said a quick prayer, and did the only thing I could think of:  "Kids, get out your books.  We're just going to start reading."  I honestly don't think I had even previewed the next story (first year, friends, first year).  But my toolbox of teaching strategies was already empty, so that's where I went. 

I'm sure the bell rang 10 minutes later, and I'm sure I'm the only individual in the class who even remembers that tragic day.  Even so, it remains forever burned into my mind - the day I lost my cool and gave the kids exactly what they wanted - an excuse to stop working.  Lesson learned:  always have a plan B, for you never know when your alter-ego is going to take over the class and demand that we move on.  Scary stuff, folks.

And that's just the beginning of tales of my first year.   Stay tuned for part II, that is, if you want to read a part II...........