January 28th

Today is Carrie’s birthday. She would have been 23. It is hard to imagine what she would be like at 23. I remember how much my life changed between my 20th birthday (the last one she celebrated) and my 23rd birthday. I met James, got married, got pregnant with Jake—so many changes in three years. I miss her so much. I know that things happen for reasons that we don’t always understand, but it is really hard not to question it sometimes. It is hard not to feel like we have been cheated out of sharing many wonderful moments with her. I just have to try and remember all the bad parts she is missing out on. She will never have to age; she will remain forever young in our memories. I remember when we were really young we had a discussion about how long it would take her to catch up to me (age wise). I tried to explain to her that she would always be a year and a half younger than me. It seems very strange now, even when I am ninety she will still be only twenty.
Don’t get too close to the screen
I am also really sad and worried because I have a confirmed case of the flu. My worst fear about going back to work was that I would catch something and bring it home to Jake. I have been taking every precaution imagined to try to prevent something like this from happening. The flu just hit out of nowhere. I thought I had a sinus infection, but I have never had one develop this fast or furious. Thursday night Jake and I both ran a fever, so I went to the doctor first thing Friday morning. Jake had his two month vaccinations Thursday afternoon and they warned us he would probably run a fever. Even with the infant Tylenol he was running a fever of 101. The pediatrician tested Jake for flu and fortunately, so far, he has not developed the flu. So he is at my parents’ house and James is also taking Tamiflu to keep from getting sick. I miss Jake very much. James left earlier to go to the store, and I got the laptop out to type this blog, and got distracted by the screen saver. which is a million pictures of Jake on rotation. I didn’t realize how long I had been watching it until James came back from the store. I know he is probably having fun. I haven’t run a fever yet today, and if I don’t run a fever tonight, I should be able to see him tomorrow night. It seems like forever since I held him, stared into his big blue eyes and told him how much I love him. I miss holding him (even when he is fussy), watching him sleep, listening to his little noises, seeing his smile, cuddling in between those early A.M. feedings and just his presence. The house seems so empty without him. It is so sad to wake up in the middle of the night and see his empty bed. Because of the medicines I am taking, I won’t be able to nurse Jake for 10 days (from Friday). Pumping is just not the same as nursing, especially when I have to throw the milk away. I pump while I am at work, but it is impossible to pump every two to three hours like I would nurse him, and I have noticed my supply decreases towards the end of the week, but then increases again on the weekend and first part of the week. I think that nursing him on the weekend is the only thing that has kept me from having to quit nursing. I am worried about the effect pumping without nursing will have on my supply, especially once I go back to work and can’t pump as often during the day. We already have to supplement him, but whatever breast milk I have been able to give him I hope has been beneficial to his immune system. I think nursing him has forged a strong bond between us. Sometimes it is the only thing that will comfort him, and I am not ready to give that up.
It is amazing the difference Jake has made in our lives. He is only 9 weeks old, but he is so beautiful and such a source of happiness. I have a habit of taking on too much, whether it is work or school, and then crashing every so often under all the pressure. When I was pregnant with Jake, for the first time it wasn’t just my health I was jeopardizing from stress (often self inflicted, or at least accumulated by my decisions, choices and inability to say no). It made me view life completely differently. I promised myself, James and the unborn Jake that I would not take my work home with me everyday and that I would make some changes in my life. I am not super woman; I can not do it all. While James may operate just fine with occasional lapses of attention (I always try and make up for it later), I don’t want to spend all of Jake’s life trying to make up for missing out on his childhood. James and I have talked about how when you are little, a day seems like forever (time is relative—one year is 20% of your life when you are 5, but just 4% of your life when you are 25). We had planned on me only working part time if at all once we had children, at least until our youngest child is in school. Life doesn’t always happen the way you plan it, but this episode of possibly exposing my 9 week old son to a deadly virus has just strengthened my convictions that the best thing for Jake and me and other children we may have will be to stay home at least most of the time with them. I do hope to be able to work part time for the local newspaper, but if something doesn’t work out, then I will find some volunteer work to keep me sane and to get me out of the house once in a while.
The cute little biohazards
I have enjoyed teaching, and apart from the sadness of being away from Jake, I am really enjoying teaching 7th graders again. I just wish they were a little more hygienic. It grosses me out watching them chew on things and put everything in their mouths. My special education students are some of the worst about it, and then at the end of class they put their papers on my desk with suspicious wet marks all over them and then bring me their dirty little planners for me to sign so their parents have proof that they did their class work. I am also appalled at their lack of knowledge of hand washing, Kleenex use, etc. Seventh graders are so interesting; it is great on the days when I actually get through to them. I like teaching Eastern Hemisphere studies to 1750. I am getting used to 143 students, six periods a day. Grading and filing is a little rougher than I thought. I am still trying to only bring things home one day a week. Only one more semester to go. I think I might go back to teaching one day, on some level at least. I have very little contact with the principal, as he is over both the elementary and the middle school parts of the attendance center and instead I deal more with the vice principal who is over the middle school. She seems okay. She did her student teaching at the school I taught at last year, so she understands the situation I came from. The English teacher told me Thursday at lunch that she thinks I am the best thing that has happened to their hall. Apparently they have all noticed the children acting more responsible since I have started teaching. She said it is amazing that they now come in her room, with their materials and immediately start their work without having to be told a million times (she actually gives them bonus points for doing this). She said that she thinks it is because I came from the high school and treat them more like adults then like babies. I think she is partially correct, I hold them to higher standards, but not because I come from the high school. Just like in the Delta, most of the teachers are so focused (and discouraged) by what the kids apparently can’t do, that they seem to forget that it is their job to teach them to do things, not access their abilities. Every child can learn something. I realize that all 143 of my students are probably not going to remember anything about ancient river basin settlements, but I know that is not the most important thing that I am teaching them. However, it is nice to see that my love for the social sciences is infectious for some of them. We have had several interesting discussions on current event days about why we can’t just blow Iraq of the map (some of them have even learned the proper pronunciation of Arab). I have a few students who hang on every word that I say, and they remember it. Several times already I have heard them reciting to other students and to me things that I have told them word for word. It is a little scary, but also kind of nice. I have heard Yolanda say that she thinks African American students learn best from African American teachers because they can relate to them better. While I am still not sure that I agree with that, I find that my students here relate to me better. While I grew up very different from many of them (I was older than they are when I moved from Natchez), many of them know me and my parents from the Coffee House and some of them I have known since they were small children. A few of them are siblings and cousins of people that I know. That makes a huge difference. However, I think it is the culture they are raised under, not their race that makes them easier to teach. I have similar success with my African American students as with their Caucasian counterparts. So far teaching has been a very interesting cultural, and social experiment; not to mention very enlightening as far as how the education system works (or doesn’t). It will be interesting to see how the year finishes out, hopefully their will be no more serious illnesses.