Life Between the Tenses

June 2nd is my mother's birthday.

Or... wait.

June 2nd was my mother's birthday.

No, that doesn't feel right.

Tomorrow, June 2, is the day my mother was born. Tomorrow will mark 61 years since she entered this world.

I guess that's the best way to put it, but I still don't like it.

I'm an English teacher. I should know which one works best.

It's hard to believe that there have been twelve birthdays without her here. It's also hard to believe she would be 61.  In my mind, she is eternally young, forever frozen in that perfect smile with just enough age to have wisdom, but still enough youth to make her laugh echo with whimsy.

There isn't a day which goes by that I don't say "I miss my mom." This isn't hyperbole. I literally wrestle with this every single day. Sometimes, it's just a fleeting thought in my mind, somewhere in the background when I make one of her favorite recipes or hear a story I would love to share with her. Ofte…


A few weeks ago, I was at my breaking point. The to-do list was long and my patience was short.

I was summoned for jury duty. I always talk up doing your civic responsibility, so I thought it might be time to put my money where my mouth was. The summons came to my old address, and I sent the paperwork back saying we had moved across county lines, but I didn't hear back from the court and I have a phobia of anything that might land me in jail.

About a month or more ago, I also found out Evan's sitter would be on a field trip and unable to watch him one single day.  She is great and she has every right in this world to go on a field trip with her child. Typically it would be no big deal. But, the universe collided and made Jury Duty Day that day.

It was ostensibly fine... Jeremy took the day off (which required a LOT of figuring things out by his colleagues) and I planned the day off from school quite a while ago.  I was even released from jury duty after they figured out that I…

Don't Call It A Comeback

As the great poet L.L. Cool J once said-- "Don't call it a comeback. I've been here before."
Perhaps you thought I fell off the face of the earth entirely.

Not true. I'm still here. Teaching seventh graders. Grading papers. Snuggling on my boy. Doing the Hot Dog dance. You know, the usual.
But, over the last year, I learned being a working mama is H-A-R-D! I wouldn't trade either of my jobs, but doing them both at a level approaching passable is a tough gig. So, the blog went to the wayside in lieu of things like designing lessons and doing laundry.
But, I have always regarded this blog as my original catharsis, where I put my feelings into print when I'm most nervous. So, I guess it's time to come back home, so to speak.
J and I just had our "consultation" with Dr. D once again. 
That's right, ladies and gentlemen. Negotiations for baby #2 have commenced.
Let me stop you right there and wave off all those folks who said having a baby c…

Rocking My Baby

Tonight, my son pushed my hand away.

No big deal, right?

I was rocking him, giving him a bottle after a late-night sheet changing, clothes changing incident. We were snuggling under the fuzzy blanket and I was singing (horribly) as he cooed along. I was soothing my little one like I've done for the last seven plus months.

Then he pushed my hand away and repositioned his little fingers on the bottle, deftly keeping it in his mouth, right where he wanted it.

It's a natural progression, right?

I should be proud he is showing increased manual dexterity and progressing with his motor skills, right?

But... but... my baby pushed my hand away.

My perfect little boy will be eight months old on Saturday. I still haven't wrapped my mind around that-- not really.  He's so big and so tiny, all at the same time.

We've been sleep training and working on sleeping in his crib instead of the bassinet which once rested beside my side of the bed. For the first week of this transition,…

Please don't tell me to relax

I haven't written since Evan was born. I know... I know. But, life has been busy.

He's seven months old now.

Seven. Months. Old.

That just seems crazy.

Earlier this summer, I participated in a Writing Workshop for teachers where we not only talked about teaching writing, but also engaged in writing to help us view ourselves as writers.

Getting back to writing was magical.

So, here is one of the pieces I pounded out in a 15 minute quick write. I think I will be doing a little more of that as I have the time.

I realized having Evan didn't heal the wounds of infertility. Yes, he is remarkable and so much more amazing than I could have imagined. But, infertility changed me, fundamentally, and the scars are still there.

So, my writing workshop peers encouraged me to publish this and "put it into the world."

Here you go, folks.

Please don’t tell me to relax I used to cry in Target.
I used to avoid baby showers.
Just relax and it will happen.
Making the baby is all the fun.

Father to Son

Today is my due date. For many women, today is the day when all the anxiety really kicks in because you know you will meet your child soon. For me, today we are celebrating two weeks with my baby boy. I haven't written about it, though I promise the story of his arrival from my point of view will come soon. However, as I was cleaning out all of the solicitations in my email box, I found an email from the night my son was born, from my husband to me.

Jeremy has never mentioned this email, not once in the two weeks since Evan's birth. In my post-birth haze, I never realized it was there. However, after finding it today, I have to share it with all of you. These are the heartfelt words of my husband on the day he first met his son. As you can imagine, I was a tearful mess after reading this.

It’s hard to describe exactly what I’m feeling.  If you know me, you shouldn’t be surprised that I’m outwardly just generally happy at becoming a father and love the fact that Evan constantly s…

Too much time on my hands....

So, it's been a very long time since I posted.

Much has happened, but I've had a difficult time deciding what I should and should not share. Infertility makes me cautious like that.

However, over the last few weeks, I've gone through some things worth mentioning. It began to feel disingenuous NOT to talk about everything that is going on, being that I have been so open about my struggles with infertility. I don't think everyone on the Internet needs to know about my every waking moment, but I'm pretty sure some folks might like to know the broad strokes.

So, here goes.

The last month has been a whirlwind.

Early this year, I was interviewed by a writer from Redbook magazine about the financial aspect of infertility. I figured I might warrant a line in the article, but earlier this month, I learned I was the lead in the article. So, around the middle of the month, when the November edition of Redbook magazine hit newsstands, I got to see my interview in writing. It w…