The stench of rhododendrons

Once upon a time . . . ok, nine years ago . . . I was convinced by a guidance counselor to give speeches and try to become local festival royalty to win a scholarship. I somehow was convinced that this wasn't a "pageant" until we had to wear pretty dresses and practice walking. Then I figured it out.

Anyhow, I did that gig . . . got to be "Miss Congeniality" and nothing more. It was a little nuts, considering all the work I had to do. There was a lot of talk about who should have won and why this girl did and who that girl's grandma was . . . it got to be messy enough that the organization of pink coats kicked out the president and their biggest sponsor over possible bribery. Did I want a recount? Did I want to rip the crown from the first rhody queen's great niece's head? Nah. I was busy getting ready for college. It was unfortunate, unfair, and normal small town politics. 8 years later, my cousin Dana tries to be the queen . . . and wins! She is one happy girl and we all take this as a sign that the organization has their act together and this festival may not be doomed to politcal junk forever.

Unfortuately, they are doomed to grasping for free publicity. About a month ago, Dana handed her crown to the new queen after a year of driving, parades, freezing, and loving that silly plastic crown. Early this week the pink coats called to inform her that she was being "dethroned". She isn't even the queen anymore, but they wanted to tell the other girl that Dana was not the queen and she really was. Why? It didn't matter the year I ran to them that much. They're going to make it a big deal with press releases. Dana's so embarassed she wants to homeschool the rest of her senior year. Dramatic girl, but still. Do we have to publicly flog her for someone else's mistake? They call it a counting error. How do you miscount? Did they run out of fingers and toes? Why even bother with this? Why now after it's completely over?

PUBLICITY

The festival is six weeks away. It doesn't draw the amount of tourism the pink coats believe it could. So let's humiliate this girl. If people think we are noble and happen to hear about it, maybe they will think about coming. If people think we are jerks and idiots, they will hear about it for sure and maybe drive out.

Nice.

I think Dana should take it as gracefully as possible. They hate that. It makes them remember they have a conscience. The less stink, the less free publicity. But they are stupid. And now I have good reason to mock them for those horrific magenta blazers, nasty polo shirts, and disgraceful white walking shoes.

I hope it rains on thier parade.

Run, mo, run!

On Monday night, well, really early Tuesday morning, I tried to run away from home.

Pregnancy gives you crazy dreams.

I had a nightmare and I was trying to run away from Ozzy, but we were in a forest and my legs were tangled up in logs, treated ones, actually, and I couldn't get away. That was the part when my Ozzy woke up. He heard me mumbling, and then I jumped up on my knees. I guess I was bouncing all over the place on my knees. Well, my legs were caught in the logs, I couldn't get free! He had to physically tackle me and hlod me down to get me to wake up. And then I was MAD at him. When I wake up, I know after just a few minutes that the dream didn't really happen, but the emotions are completely real!

Poor Ozzy.

Best of the week

"Hey! Mrs. McDonald! You're wearing braids!"
"Yes, I am."
"Wow! You look pretty! Just like a cowgirl bride!"
"Thanks."
bet you can't guess where I had that conversation . . .

Where are the pictures?

On my kitchen counter. This week has been absolutely crazy. Last week was parent teacher conferences (absolutely crazy) which meant I was at the school. A lot. Not home. Sleeping. Where I wanted to be. This week we had some of those sit and listen for teachers classes Monday (teachers are not good at sitting and listening) and on Tuesday we had yuck. There are three of us who teach second grade at our school and the two of us get along great. One has been very unhappy all year for various personal reasons common to single girls and the internet. In addition, she just isn't too happy about being here in Utah and would like to be elsewhere. This, of course, impacts her job and sometimes us. She's not a person who is easygoing/approachable, so we ended up having a meeting with her and two administrators. She came and yelled at me. Yikes. So that made Tuesday completely unpleasant. I was in no mood to post an appropriate, fair, or even very interesting blog.
After that, I've just had the aftermath of missed parent teacher conferences and trying to make nice. Exhausting, actually.
Ozzy has had quite the week as well. He had to take his recently fixed car back to the dealer Monday because they forgot to complete their job and has been stuck working late every day this week. Wednesday he only had to stay a half hour late. Tuesday I took him dinner at work and hung out with him. We were there until 9! The poor man has had to work A LOT this week.
So, there are your excuses. With a little luck and a miracle on behalf of the pregnant brain, I'll take photos of the photos and bring them to school Monday and post them. No promises. Breaking them is mean.
The baby continues to kick and punch and squirm. It's funny if Ozzy and I are snuggling and the baby kicks hard enough he feels it against his tummy. Pow!
And what is with KK going to New York? Is he really going? Is it for more than a girl? These are burning questions. Ozzy wants to know how KK's going to marry Anna if he goes to New York for Ruth! We keep trying to explain that Fat William's supposed to marry her . . . (that was just for you, Dana and Tori!)

It's a boy!

I've tried many times to get the ultrasound video to post here, but so far, no luck. If I ever DO get it to work, you'll see it! I'll post the pics tomorrow. Yes, he is a boy! He showed us right away. The ultrasound lady was like, "good thing you wanted to know the gender!" It was funny. He was super squirmy. A coworker advised me to drink Dr.Pepper before the ultrasound so that the baby would move more. That way, if they couldn't tell, it'd be only a matter of time before he'd move around so we could see. I guess it worked! Now I'm addicted to the idea buying baby clothes . . . oh well. I've exercised self control so far! It was a long day at work . . . the Spanish teacher didn't come and the office didn't find a sub, so I had my kids ALL DAY. I'm looking forward to getting ready for parent teacher conferences and correcting papers. I think I've lost it!

Screaming?

I felt like the absolute worst teacher ever yesterday. We had read aloud and then lined up for recess. When we got out, the teacher next door asked me if the kids were having a good day. It's spring, so they are squirmy and noisy, so I said that they weren't having the best day. She said she could tell because she heard me screaming at them before recess. I couldn't remember screaming at them . . . I knew I had to speak loudly sometimes because they were being so noisy. Then she told me to watch out because the assistant director was standing outside my door at the time, listening. All day I couldn't figure out when I was "screaming" at them.

This morning on the way to school, I figured it out.

We have read aloud right before recess. I am reading them Matilda by Roald Dahl. I like to do the voices so the kids will like listening better. I was reading the part when the Trunchbull makes Bruce Bogtrotter eat a giant chocolate cake. She barks and shouts, never talks.

I wasn't screaming at my students, but the Trunchbull was screaming at Bruce Bogtrotter!

When in doubt, ask someone under the age of ten.

I've been askedby many people how I handle the awkwardness of teaching 24 small people every day with a growing belly. Can't they tell I'm pregnant?

Actually, when I found out I was pregnant, I told them. There's some things little people have to know . . . especially when you're the PE teacher! For example, don't throw things at Mrs. McDonald's tummy, if Mrs. McDonald acts super grouchy, she is sick or tired from growing a person, and if Mrs. McDonald runs out of class, it is a bathroom emergency and take out a book and read in your seat until she gets back.

Every week they like an update about how big the baby is, what it feels like in there, and what we will name it. Whenever I see a mom, they want to look at my tummy and tell me they hear baby updates from their little one all the time. They don't ask the "how did you get a baby inside" question because this is Utah and they all have baby brothers and sisters. They know some version or another. They do silly things though.

More than once a kids has walked into class, stood with their hands on hips and said, "Wow, Mrs. McDonald. I can tell your baby is getting big because you look way fatter."

One day, after drawing the six-inch baby on the board for them, one little girl got super excited and started flapping her hands next to my tummy. "Where is it, where is it?!?" she yelled. I pointed to where it was. She hugged it and then hollered, "I love you baby!" Then she realized she'd just made a scene and clpped her hands over her mouth, giggling with the rest of the class. "I'm sorry. I just got so excited I couldn't help it!" she explained.

Another day the students were in the hallway hanging up coats and backpacks. A little girl said, not knowing I could hear, "I wonder how Mrs. McDonald GOT pregnant anyway." A boy answered, "I'm pretty sure it was something she ate."

These things I find HILLARIOUS.