We just wasted two hours of our life that we’ll never, ever get back. As soon as War of the Worlds was over, we looked at each other, and in unison said, “Well, that was dumb!”
Sure, the special effects were cool, but the movie itself was dumb. Oh well, at least it was air-conditioned and I got to eat Raisinets. Mmmmm….melty chocolate goodness!
The doctor’s appointment went well. She knows me and all my neuroticism, so she made me feel better. She did some bloodwork (there’s something about the official-ness of a doctor’s office that makes things well, more official) and calmed me down about the health of the baby. Still, she didn’t seem too keen on me walking next weekend – I told her I was going to take it easy, maybe do 6 miles before lunch and 6 after each day. She really wasn’t happy about that. But she wrote me a little note saying it was okay for me to walk, so long as I promised to stay super-hydrated, rest often and stop BEFORE I feel any cramping. Should be interesting!
This weekend: vegging at my folks’, taking their boat out on the bay, celebrating my nephew’s 2nd birthday, chillin’ & grillin’ with the usual crew on the 4th. Yeah – this teacher-summer-vacation-thing definitely does not suck!

Thank you, everyone, for your sweet well-wishes. It’s so nice to be surrounded by so much happiness!
We’re about to take off for our first doctor’s appointment. It’s with my PCP – not the obgyn I called yesterday. The receptionist made me feel about thisbig, and I’m not too keen on dealing with her again. My first appointment with them isn’t until the middle of July, and then it’s only for bloodwork with a nurse practioner. I won’t see the actual obgyn until I’m 12 weeks. TWELVE WEEKS! I might lose my shit.
Apparently, this is normal protocol – but me being pregnant – NOT normal for me. I want to see a doctor and know that everything is okay. I want to make sure these cramps are not a sign of bad things. I want to know that this little baby is alive and almost kicking. I want to know I’m doing healthy things and I’m progressing fine and all the other things pregnant women worry about. I know they can see the heartbeat as early as 6 weeks, and now that I’m almost 7 – would it be wrong of me to ask my PCP for a referral for a sonogram? A little visual confirmation would really settle my nerves.
Because, really, my head WILL explode if I have to wait until August to know that everything’s okay.

There’s one thing Jay made me promise, mostly as a joke: not to get pregnant before my birthday. We had all sorts of plans that involved being non-pregnant, like racing cars and fancy girlie drinks with friends.
So, I turned 30 on Wednesday, and wouldn’t you know it? Two days earlier, on Monday, there were two little lines on that little plastic stick screaming, “Happy birthday Mommy!”
Two little lines for something so incredibly huge.
Holy crap. We’re having a baby.

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A very tired, very dirty me. (Check out those bags under my eyes! Ack!) Time for lunch!
(P.S. Overalls rock. These are my favorites – covered in every color of paint we’ve put up on these walls – and currently soaked with mud. Good stuff.)

Getting there! There’s sunflowers and dahlias and foxglove and all sorts of other pretty things I’m praying will survive in the half-sun that side of the garage gets.
Good lord, owning a house is work. Expensive work. There was a reason why we got it for such a good price, eh? Heh.

The scary section of the yard that I’ll be transforming into an amazing garden oasis this afternoon…I hope!

Jay, cutting the stair stringers for the brand-spankin’-new deck he built.

Out for a training walk with Erin. Neither of us had had a single drop of coffee and our brains were not even close to functioning at normal capacity, so about 3.5 miles in, we HAD to stop. My body’s not used to walking again – it’s been a busy month, but I don’t have much of a choice – the walk is in three weeks. ACK! So I’ll be squeezing in as many 4-8 mile walks as humanly possible Wheeeee.
The cool thing? In the midst of our little ghetto city is a brand new farm not even three blocks from our house. It’s run by a local & another guy – the old sound guy from Strangefolk. Erin & I stopped by, chatted with him and another woman about organic gardening and composting, picked up an awesome looking basil plant, and offered to volunteer some this summer. Yay for new cool things coming into our little city on the river!

I just walked in the door from an evening of graduation ceremonies and a staff dinner celebration.
My only graduating senior didn’t even make it to me walking to the podium before she started sniffling. By the time I had read the first sentence of my speech about her, the tears were already streaming down her face. By the end, I could just about hear the sobs from three rows away. Her few years with us was a struggle; our motto was, “Don’t rely on I’ll try – get out there and DO.” I couldn’t look at her and read my speech at the same time, so I stared at the audience and talked about her compassion and thoughtfulness and her amazing effort and tried not to cry myself.
It was a small graduating class, but each has a story I could never imagine telling, let alone living. Each day that I learn more about their lives outside of school is another day I’m amazed at who they are – as students and as human beings. So many have experienced horrors I’ve only read about as headlines in the newspaper – and here they are, graduating. How could I not cry? How could I not be bursting with joy for their amazing, incredible accomplishments? For these amazing, incredible children who have survived – and are surviving – so much?
Over dinner, the staff shared stories of our seniors and laughed about some of the ones who will be returning. They drive us nuts, those kids, but it’s evident that there’s not a single staff member who doesn’t see the amazing potential in each of them. It’s heartwarming and so incredible to be surrounded by people – teachers – who truly, wholly, care about these kids.
As I was walking to the car, the math teacher called out my name. “Congratulations!” she shouted to me over a row of cars. I kind of cocked my head and looked at her.
She smiled. “You made it through to your first graduation.”
And so I did.

So it’s crazy end-of-year psychoness around here. Today is the seniors’ last day, and the girls are all gathered in the bathroom, crying. Ms. MichaelJackson-CheeseGirl is practicing her moonwalk and leg kicks to “Billie Jean” in the computer lab, trying to make other sad senior girls giggle. Another student just changed into her work clothes, and she’s running around with one bare foot, yelling that someone stole her sock. It’s wacko!
Our yearbooks came out yesterday; there’s one senior girl who reminds me so much of me in high school, and I tell her that everytime she does something I would have said or done. She wrote the sweetest, best thing I’ve heard all year: “If you were just like me when you were in high school, I hope I’m just like you when I grow up.”
I think I’d be crying, if it weren’t for K. begging for a sock and CheeseGirl moonwalking in and out of my office. Summer is most definitely here.