Has anyone seen where I left my….brain? Seriously. I thought the baby brain was bad before but we are reaching new heights of stupidity this week.
It’s end of term which means exams and grades time. You’d think this wouldn’t be a big deal seeing as the kids I teach are age 3-11, but you’d be wrong.
I had about 5 emails over the weekend from a frantic mum, insisting their kid ‘couldn’t read a word and doesn’t know ANYTHING’. I tried my best to put out the fire and felt extremely validated when the kid got 90% with no help from me.
Another parent emailed me because apparently I can’t count to 25 anymore and I docked her son 5 points for no reason at all. Oops.
With the eldest kids all this stress is behind us, thank Budda. Instead they have been tasked with creating a 5 min presentation on a subject of their choice, which has led to conversations like this:
Kid: ‘Miss Emz, what is a slut magnet?’
Me *splutters*: “A what?’
Kid:’ A slut magnet.’
Me: ‘Where have you heard that?’
Kid: ‘On this website about my game I’m doing for my presentation.’
Me: ‘Which game?’
Me: ‘Grand Theft Auto? Isn’t that game about stealing cars, beating people up and…. *thinks*- prostitutes?’
Me: “Uh huh, you can’t do it on that.’
The creepy ‘bleeding from the eyes’ kid informed me that soon the doctor would have to ‘use a really big knife and cut from here *indicates chin level* to here *indicates pubic bone* so he can pull the baby out. It’s gonna hurt real real bad!’
One of her peers suggested, in very broken English, that he could punch me in the stomach and then I could vomit out the baby. I must say, his suggestion appeals more than any other typical method for giving birth.
I have been getting loads of exercise walking up and down the stairs as I arrive without resources or am forced to retrace my steps to figure out where I’ve left things. I open containers 3 times in a row, when there wasn’t anything in them the first time. I call kids by the wrong name all. the. time. I have a massive brain fart mid-sentence and have no idea what to say next. Fun times. Kids keep asking me to spell stuff. ‘Nuf said.
I think it’s because the blood normally supplying my brain currently prefers pooling around my calves and ankles. Especially around midday. The sexy puffiness is really accentuated by my waddle. WW keeps asking ‘Why are you walking like that?’ Not for shits and giggles, my love.
Otherwise there’s nothing major happening but I do feel a bit uncomfortable in my body, with back ache, occasional abdominal twinges and tightening. The bath helps. Specifically an hour plus soak in an almost cold bath while watching Extreme Makeover, Weightloss Edition, and calculating that even at the end of their ‘transformation’ the contestants often weigh more than me right now, helps me feel a little less whale-like. WW complaining about her tiny muffin top does not.
Burping, farting, frequent urination and pooping remain constants but the heartburn has slackened slightly. My rings are still on my fingers and my ‘innie’ bellybutton has not become an ‘outy’ yet. No stretch marks and my boobs have remained encased in the same bra without attempting to break free, for a couple of weeks.
We have finally bought a car seat and a play mat for tummy time. WW ordered some extremely campy sailor and suit outfits, and was a bit put out when I giggled excessively. We have been gifted a few gorgeous baby grows and t-shirts. In short I feel like we are almost prepared and the rest will come back with us from the UK. I have to wait until Wednesday to see if I will be given the OK by the doctor, to fly. Fingers crossed.
Similar to this. I cannot bring myself to put one of those hats on my sons head, sorry WW.
The pregnancy app continues to amuse. I have stopped filling in my weight as I am frighteningly outwith the recommended weight gain chart. The fruit size comparisons stress out WW, as the fruit here is often much larger than the ones they are using. It is also throwing up some words WW, as a non-native English speaker, has not come across previously:
Me: ‘It suggests that we do a perineal* massage now that I’m in my third trimester.’
WW: ‘Maybe you can get one at the massage parlor on the main road.’
*apparently the wordpress dictionary has never heard of a perineal massage either.