Ninja baby and ziplock bags

The first time I felt little Baby kick, it was pretty weird. Pretty soon I got used to his occasional movements and it was reassuring, an affirmation that he was still doing okay in there. Now he moves around so often that I’m sure I would start to worry if a whole day went by and I hadn’t felt him even once.

From what I’ve heard, some babies are more active than others. It may have just as much or more to do with the mother’s body than the baby’s actual movements, but I’ve had some women tell me that they didn’t feel their babies kick very often. In the same way that before Baby kicked, I wasn’t really worried about him kicking or not, if he’d never kicked much, I don’t suppose I would want him to kick more. Now that he does, it just seems normal that he should continue to do so.

And, man, does he kick. I’m actually looking forward to my next ultrasound, hoping to get some good movement while we’re watching, because my imagination is starting to run wild with the things I’ve felt. He’s big enough now that he can simultaneously hit both sides of my abdomen. Sometimes it’s a series of hard jabs. In which case, I’ve found that I can calm him down by moving around a bit. Other times I feel more of a pressure, like he’s trying to stretch out my uterus to make more space.

Some of my most common fantasies about his activities include mixed martial arts or acrobatics training, swimming and dancing. I have a feeling that this kid is going to cause some trouble in the next few years. I imagine turning my back on him for only a second and finding him scaling the dresser drawers just like his uncle used to do.

The strangest and probably least expected thing for me about Baby’s daily yoga practice is not how it feels, but rather how it looks. I don’t know why it never occurred to me that I would be able to see him moving from the outside. It just didn’t. When I was first able to feel the kicks, everyone I talked to sprang this news on me, but it wasn’t enough time to process before it actually started happening. That’s some really exorcist shit to see a little creature moving around inside your belly.

I get the feeling that Baby is not a big fan of flying, especially the landing. He’s been particularly rambunctious today, and it kinda felt like he was trying to make a break for it as the plane landed in Houston. He started to get a little buck when we landed in Omaha, but I did a little dance and he chilled out. I can’t say I blame him. I find travelling to be pretty uncomfortable myself. On the bus from Xela to Guate, I had to break out the trusty ziplock bag to vom. While the “morning” sickness subsided a couple months ago, the motion sickness is still on in full effect it seems. I remember when I was little EVERYTHING gave me motion sickness: cars, planes, trains, milk. I think I spent more time throwing up as a kid than anyone I know. As I got older, it never went away, but it got more tolerable. Now I feel like I’m starting from scratch again. I guess parenthood is the second childhood. Baby, all I’m gonna say is that you just better be cute.

The Belly Project

Ever since starting the secret baby blog, I've really started to miss my regular blog. I guess it's true: You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone. Luckily, I'm inconsistent enough with my blogging that my absence went completely unnoticed, but now that the news is out, I'll be moving all of my blogging- baby and otherwise- back here. Let's be honest, though, pretty much everything worth writing about at this point is the ten extra pounds sitting on my bladder.

The growing belly is a magical place. I'm not totally sure how it works, but one minute I'm sporting the tiniest of bumps and the next I look like I'm smuggling a beach ball. I've definitively reached that point where, even at its smallest, I often get confused looks from Guatemalans on the street that say: Who knocked up the gringa? But, somehow, I had imagined the growth process to be more linear. This is more of a two steps forward one step back type deal, though.

At my checkup last week, I had gained ten pounds since getting pregnant. Baby also looks almost two weeks older than he really is. (We're not finding out the sex until the baby is born, but I'll be using male pronouns. Most of you know that I'm not one to use male pronouns as default, but I had a dream and you can't prove me wrong yet. I wish there were a pronoun specifically for babies that meant: Who cares what the sex or gender of a person who has yet to form an identity is.) I realized after leaving the doctor's office that when Cris and I met a few years ago, I weighed about what I do now. So why do I feel huge now if I felt normal then? My theory is this: When I weighed ten pounds more a few years ago, it was a well-distributed ten pounds. Everything was bigger head to toe. Now, the only parts that have grown are centrally located. My hips have spread a little and my boobs have gained half a cup size, but most of that weight is all in my abdomen.

The result of such concentrated weight gain? Well, for one thing, it's a constant battle to keep my posture. I often catch myself with my back seriously arched and the belly all out there. Also, unlike normal weight gain, my abdominal wall is seriously stretched out. The muscles still work, just not in all directions. Particularly my lower abdominal muscles are unable to move in a crunch type motion. Since I have no desire to do crunches, that shouldn't matter, right? Well, think about all the positions that the easiest way to get out of is with that very movement. Now imagine (or try if you’re adventurous) getting up from one of those positions without using your lower abdominals. For the most part, you can get up by just swinging around to the side, no problems. But once in a while, something impedes that motion. Some of my more amusing solutions to this problem have been Cris having to pull or push me and, my personal favorite, the time that I had to roll sideways onto the floor to get off the couch. In my defense, I had my legs elevated and the position was deceptively easy to get into. So far, this has only provided a few moments of hilarity for Cris and I, but as the belly grows, I can only image this situation becoming more comical, and with any luck, my evil genius of a spouse will manage to get you all some evidence of it.

Tres Metros Sobre Twilight

My husband and I watched Tres Metros Sobre Cielo (Three Steps Above Heaven) over the weekend. After hearing about it from all the teeny boppers, I decided to find out what it was all about. One of my students is doing her compare and contrast essay on this and Twilight, and after seeing it, I feel like the comparison is apt.

It's a Spanish flick about a school girl named Babi (pronounced BAH-bee, María Valverde) who falls for the bad boy, Hugo, or H as he prefers (pronounced AH-chay, Mario Casas). Though we never see H shoot himself up, it is pretty evident to anyone over the age of 15 that he is on roids for, like, the entire movie. He's a complete asshole, but somehow Babi, who at first seems like a sane human being, falls for him. Basically, if you found Twilight unfathomably hilarious, you must see this film.

I'm gonna go ahead and put a huge SPOILER ALERT here. If you want to be surprised by the LOLs, stop reading and go watch a pirated copy of 3MSC, as the kids call it, and come back later. And believe me, as the plot does not follow any logic known to the rational human mind. The only thing predictable about this movie are the eye rolls you will certainly be experiencing.

Okay, so at first you think that H is out of his mind and Babi will see right threw him, but after calling her ugly, crashing a party she's at, throwing her in the pool in a white dress, chasing her through the streets on his motorcycle, beating up her ride and scaring him off so he could give her a ride home, stalking her, breaking into her house, and coercing her to take off her clothes in exchange for a ride home; he finally wins her heart.

From this point, you may think that H is going to mellow out under the calming influence of Babi. You would be wrong. One day, he gets a bug up his butt to go to the beach. He meets her at school in the morning and convinces her to ditch. Hey, at least he didn't kidnap her. Unfortunately, Babi is spotted leaving by a strict teacher and threatened with expulsion the next day. Her rich-as-fuck parents make a generous contribution to the school, though, so it's all good.

H to the rescue. When Babi tells him what happened, he takes it upon himself to play the hero. H and his friend, Pollo (Álvaro Cervantes) kidnap the teacher's dog and threaten her not to give Babi any trouble. H exhibits many of the typical abusive boyfriend signs: Each time he roid rages out, he does something nice for Babi to make it up to her. In one such instance, he freaks out and takes his bike down a winding highway at breakneck speeds with Babi on the back screaming her head off. To make it up to her, he breaks into a house at the beach and the two of them start playing house there.

There are several moments in the film where the viewer may be completely convinced that the plot is about to take a moralistic turn. Is this really an admonishment against destructive relationships? No! No it is not. She forgives him. Every time. When she does finally break it off, it seems almost unrelated to the fact that he's been manipulating and abusing her.

The only moral I could manage to draw out of this story is that if you are a controlling, crazy parent (Babi's mom), your kid might rebel by almost getting herself killed by her psycho boyfriend on a regular basis. Another weird twist of events, though, is when her father goes to tell H that he can't see Babi anymore. H manages to charm the father to the point that I was left wondering whether the father wanted to make out with H.

There are so many more bizarre moments in this movie, that I couldn't even begin to cover them all here, but I've made a little synopsis of the plot in cartoon form with the basics. You have to see it for yourself. You will laugh so hard you may pee yourself. The shit that Babi does in this movie make Bella Swan look like the poster child for healthy life choices. H is Edward without the guilt complex or practiced self-control. In conclusion, fear for our youth.

Well, here we are again... wasting my time. I just read (skimmed) a history of the internet. Like I give a damn. That was my limit. Time to retreat back to my blog.

So, I can't figure out if this is a moment of culture clash, my inner type A taking over my life, or what; but today has been an exercise in shaking my head in disappointment. I just can't seem to wrap my brain around the idea that a group of adults, supposedly responsible for the education of young people, can actually allow themselves to lose control of a situation on a massive scale.

Let me back up: We've been taking yearbook photos recently. They're really rather cute, but a huge waste of time. If you tell the teachers what you want, when it needs to happen, etc; then we should be able to organize everything and it takes less time, right? Not according to the computer teacher who is, at least in name, in charge of these photos. No, it's better to just call everyone out of class and have them mill about for 40 minutes while they could be learning things until they decide to take the picture. Because THAT makes the most sense. According to our natural teacher instinct, we even attempted to facilitate the process, but since we were all going on differing perceptions of what needed to be done: chaos ensued. Really, the icing on the cake is when the students groan and say, "This is just going to be a waste of time, though." Yeah, I know.

I think what really gets under my skin is this:

"La no planificación es la planificación al fracaso." Which for my monolingual readers (what readers, haha) is "Not planning is planning for failure," and this is something that has been used to admonish teachers at my school time and time again. So why doesn't it apply to the administration/coordination when it comes time for them to plan things in advance? I think that the following cartoon illustrates fairly well the answer.

And the history/overview of the internet for those of you who are new here:

Open publication - Free publishing - More diplomado

Technology Training

If there's anyone out there who still gets notified when I post to this abandoned blog, you know by now that I cannot in good conscience make any commitments to posting more than once a year, but here I am for my annual checkup.

So, a year after I began teaching, I have one concrete piece of wisdom to share: Full time teaching will consume your life. On the one hand it's your life, and you need it for things like blogging, reading, napping or staying in touch with loved ones: those who live on the other side of the globe as well as those lying next to you in bed.

On the other hand teaching is a sacred profession, and it feels almost sacrilegious to give it anything short of the best effort you have. You worry, fret and stress over plans and grades and students who don't seem to get it, even over those who don't seem to care. You make phone calls to parents and send notes; you try to find the balance between praise and consequence; you check and double check yourself on every fact and detail because you want to give your students the best chance they have to succeed, not only in your class but in life; and if you don't, you may be doing it wrong.

Then, every once in a long, long while, something comes along that you just don't give a crap about. For me, that something is technology training. And that, my two followers, is where I'm sitting right now, as they say in Chapín: pelándomela. In theory, I'm very pro-technology training. I think that using technology in the classroom can enrich and transform education when it is used in a manner that is appropriate, purposeful and creative. I myself am constantly looking for new ways to incorporate technology into my lessons that will grab my students' attention, while teaching them core skills and without alienating or overwhelming the less technologically inclined among them.

So, when they told us we would be doing a seven week workshop on Technology in the Classroom, I was pretty excited. However, as it turns out, this is Technology 101 for the internet-impaired. And that's  AFTER they split us into a higher and lower level. What I have "learned" so far in this course includes: how to use email, facebook, twitter and now- blogger. Mind you, if the title of today's course were "How to Not Suck at Updating Your Blog," I would be hanging on the profe's every word (the trick there probably being to make a class blog, see Teaching consumes your life). The emphasis, though, in each of the 3 class meetings we've had so far (today is number 4) has been on the technical aspects of, literally, how to create an account, groups, posts; how to modify settings; how to mention someone in a tweet; etc.

Yes. In case that was not clear: I am in the "advanced" level of this workshop. I'm gonna give you a minute to let that sink in. In a city where there's an internet cafe on every other corner, in a school where every teacher has a personal laptop, in a building with wifi, in a teaching staff with an average age of 30...

Up next week: creating YouTube videos. Mine may look something like this.