40 Weeks

This morning, after dropping Ellie off at school and enjoying my weekly visit with my OB, I took my writing sample to School #1 - application complete. A few minutes later, on the way to pick Ellie up from school, I put my writing sample into the mail for school #2 - application complete. Applications for schools #3 and #4 are due a few weeks from now, so . . . pressure's lessened! I can take a couple of days off. Perhaps to labor and deliver, for instance.

Today was my due date, which is of some importance because my doctor is reluctant to let me go too far beyond it. Fortunately, our talk of an induction next week quickly became talk of a non-stress test and ultrasound for size instead. He acknowledges the concerns with both tests, but feels they do offer some value.

And . . . there's some concern about this baby's size.

See, apparently most women measure about a centimeter a week for fundal height during pregnancy (from the pubic bone to the top of the uterus) until about week 33 or 34. Around then, it starts tapering off.

Not only have I been measuring ahead of dates, the growth rate has not slowed significantly. My freakishly large belly has continued to grow so that I'm currently measuring 42 weeks. I do have a family history of measuring large and having normal sized babies. But there's still some concern here. So. Maybe a big baby, maybe just a really really big belly.

I had some professional pregnancy photos taken recently, and they are amazing. I mean, this belly . . .

At church last week, a woman sitting down the pew from me suggested that I take my belly up for the Chat with the Children, because surely it was big enough. Hah! No, really, it was funny. Another woman congratulated me for having the nerve to wear plaid (a skin-tight jumper, because even my too-big-everywhere-else maternity clothes strain over this belly). For the first time ever, my belly button is actually an outie. It's impressive, amazing, and commented on everywhere I go, all day, every day.

So I asked my doctor which home-grown induction methods actually work. He suggested only one that is at all proven. So. Paul's brushing his teeth. This belly and I better go intercept him before he falls asleep.

Tomorrow we'll try Mexican food, Splenda, and probably more of the doctor's orders, if things don't get moving on their own. Pleasant dreams!

No News is Good News

Ellie was due on Wednesday, and I went into labor the preceding Friday evening. New Baby is also due on Wednesday, so it wasn't a big surprise when I started having unmistakable signs of labor late Friday night. After an hour or two, I woke Paul up.

I wasn't ready! I told him. It really hurts! I told him. I need to go into the office for just and hour, and nail down the recommendations for my grad school applications, and . . .

Drink some water, he told me. Then he walked around the bed, picked up my glass of water, added a straw, and held it to my lips until I'd done so.

After we'd talked for a little while (who to call in the middle of the night to watch Ellie? How inconvenient that my mom was unusually far away that night, up in Michigan with my also-pregnant sister) the labor, surprisingly stopped.

And I slept. And all was well.

On Saturday, I had my pregnancy massage (ahhhhhh!) and went into the office for an hour. I accomplished everything I needed to accomplish, then headed home and worked hard on grad school applications. I've completed the online application for 3 of my 4 schools (one school's online application is down this weekend but it's not due until February 1, so I'm not concerned yet). I just need to read over my personal statement, write a teaching statement for one school, and polish my writing sample. Then it's all ready to go.

Which means that . . . I'm about ready to go!

Except, perhaps . . . I do have a project at work that I should do more on. And I need to send out a postcard notifying my neighbors of the upcoming annual trustees meeting. And I am behind on thank you notes and . . .

Well. I don't think it's ever possible to be done, or ready, do you?

2006 In Review

This is the first sentence of the first post of the month thing.

January: First thing: housecleaning!
February: I used to go see Ani Difranco twice a year, in Chicago and in St. Louis.
March: OK, I have a queue of draft post ideas as long as my arm, but they're going to have to continue to wait.
April: I have been off my game for a while.
May: I made a low-carb chicken pot pie for dinner tonight.
June: I sometimes take my childhood for granted.
July: One of my favorite things about Ellie right now is her generosity.
August: I went to the mall today with my mom and Ellie.
September: We'll consider this one prep work for our upcoming Disney trip.
October: Paul has started feeding Ellie All Bran in the morning, which I think is hilarious.
November: This morning, thanks to wonderful friends keeping her up late for us last night, Ellie slept in a little.
December: Yesterday, I passed a new pregnancy milestone.

Clearly, I need to work on my first lines. I think it would have been more interesting to look at the titles of the first posts for each month. They told more of a story.

In other news, I am 40 weeks pregnant, Wahoo! My due date is a few days from now, and I don't think I'll go too far over it. (My official due date is Wednesday, though the perinatal specialist gave me a due date of this Sunday.) Ellie too was due on a Wednesday, and I went into labor on Friday night for a Saturday morning delivery. We'll see what happens this weekend!

I took the GRE this morning. I didn't love the experience, especially since my intended 3 weeks of study in early November became two intense nights of study in early January. And there was a mix-up about the testing center that involved me arriving at the "wrong" place then having to drive across town and start more than an hour later than planned.

It will be interesting to see how my essays score; I feel like they went pretty well. I enjoy writing, as always, and have missed it of late (hello, blog!) The Verbal section was fun, though a bit rushed at the end, and I scored well on it (700 out of 800, 97th percentile). The "Quantitative" section, however, was a bomb. I mean, a real bomb.

With little time to study and no practice test, I gauged the time all wrong, only answering 18 out of 28 questions (and not even having time to fill in all Cs at the end - I just left 10 questions blank!). I remembered enough elementary math to bang through many of the problems . . . given enough time, which I clearly didn't have. For example, I needed to find the length of a line. I could make it into a right triangle, and I knew the length of one side and the measure of one angle of the triangle. It was a 30-60-90 triangle, and not enough information to use the Pythagorean Theorem. I remember just enough to know that there's a formula for the length of the sides of a 30-60-90 triangle, but not the actual formula. I mean, seriously! This is relevant how?!! I'm all about a test of quantitative reasoning, but remembering formulas from Jr. High School is just not where it's at, folks.

So. The GRE is done. I'm due soon. And now I'm about to approach a few people, hat in hand, to ask for last-minute recommendations for last-minute applications. Perhaps I'll learn something useful to assist me in the reapplication process next year.

My Space, Your Space

So, I have a MySpace page now. I set it up a week or two ago, for "networking" (according to my profile). I've gotten some very cool "friends" already, including extended family and friends I knew in jr. high, high school, college, and after that. I don't plan to do any more with it, other than to check my page once in a while to read messages and check up on MySpace "friends," but it was worthwhile to set up.

Anyway, I got a friend request recently from someone who, according to her profile, likes to read, but isn't much of a book person, and prefers to read magazines, actually. That's two readers who don't read books I've encountered in under two weeks! This must be a new fad.

Next time someone asks me what I like to do, maybe I'll answer that I write. But I don't like sentences. I'm mainly writing lists these days. To do lists, specifically.

Applications Suck

I am in the process of applying to some grad school programs for next fall. (More on this later. Much later.) And I have a quick rant.

I went to college many years ago. I am a very different student today than I was at 18. And at 18 I went to a science/research-oriented university and took a lot of very diverse courses.

I took more semesters of Chemistry and Biology (including labs) than I've ever bothered to count. I took a fair amount of Calculus. I took Physics and Psychology. I flirted with several different majors before I decided on English, which I chose because it's where I was getting the best grades.

So my major GPA looks pretty decent, but my overall GPA is pretty lousy. I very quickly grew frustrated with a university experience where I was one of 450 students in a lecture hall, the professor maybe didn't care too much about teaching anyway (let alone had any notion of who I was), and the "mean" score on an exam - earning the student a low B - was 33 out of 100. End result: I had a lot of fun in college. Once I decided not to compete in the rigorous science courses I continued to take, I enjoyed myself a lot more.

Now I want to go to grad school. I am willing to take the GRE, to submit samples of my current/recent work, to write wonderful letters of explanation. But so many grad programs have a ridiculous clause about what a student's undergraduate GPA must be in order to apply.

1. This is stupid for students returning to school after a break - the sort of student I was 13 years ago is hardly relevant to the student I am today, and
   
2. What I want to study doesn't have a lot to do with Organic Chemistry. I shouldn't be penalized for taking courses that I found challenging - I could have stuck to "Science for Musicians" and bolstered my GPA artificially.

Stupid applications.

Fan Girl

Paul has started feeding Ellie All Bran in the morning, which I think is hilarious. But since he's usually the one who takes care of what comes out of the other end when he's home, I figure, well, he'll figure this one out on his own. "She likes it!" he says.

I think she "likes" it because once she saw him eating a bowl and wanted to have what he was having instead of the Multigrain Cheerios in her own bowl. I doubt the All Bran (even the flakes with yogurt bits) would win in a toddler taste test, even if the only test subject was my daughter.

So, this weekend!

Saturday morning, we went to Forest Park for Arthur's Picnic in the Park Character Breakfast. Arthur and his PBS friends come visit St. Louis kids one Saturday each fall, and Ellie's school co-sponsors a breakfast for kids with special needs, so that they can meet the characters ahead of time in a more accessible setting.

Last year, Ellie was excited by the affair but a little afraid of the characters. This year, well, two PBS character breakfasts and two trips to Disney World before she turns 3 . . . we've created a character junkie. Unlike most of the toddlers, she had no fear of the larger-than-life muppets. Everytime she saw Elmo across the room (and she doesn't watch Sesame Street; she knows Elmo from books and stuffed animals) she ran over to fiercely hug his knees. Since Elmo has somewhat poor vision, and can't necessarily see his own knees (I would imagine) this was rather dangerous. I am relieved to report that we did not cause Elmo to do a Humpty Dumpty, and he should be appearing on PBS this week as usual.

Last night, Alison Bechdel did a reading at Left Bank Books. Hey, look! She already blogged it.

I went down to the reading with a few friends from one of my book clubs. And because I am a lucky, lucky girl, a wonderful local author (and amazing reader), Kathleen Finneran, invited us to tag along with a group of people (including Kathleen and Alison) when they went down to The City Museum for a drink afterwards.

The most humorous part of the evening, for me, was my slightly late arrival at the bookstore. Now, that part wasn't a shock (there was construction on Olive! I swear!) but I'd spent a little time in front of the mirror before I left the house. I was wearing a maternity top, but cut in a currently fashionable style, not obviously maternity. And black velvet stretch jeans, two sizes too large but not maternity. And tall, kicky black books. And lipstick! I was convinced that you couldn't really tell that I am pregnant, unless perhaps you caught me in profile in the right light. So imagine my chagrin when there was a flurry of activity and people insisting that some poor man give up his stool when I arrived so that I didn't have to actually stand for the reading, in my delicate state.

Alas, alack. I got a great seat up front, because at some point it became more of a spectacle to keep protesting that I was fine standing than to just accept the stool as graciously as possible. And my friends had to stand in the back and around the corner, unable to see the screen well. My view of the screen was partially obscured too, but that's just because I was sitting on a low stool in a side aisle about 5 feet in front of Alison herself. Obviously, I didn't mind a bit.

And I did go a bit Fangirl, but I managed to keep silent. I figure that was better than sounding obnoxious. I just came off as totally boring, a dud at one of the of the table drinking diet soda, which isn't too far off base. Anyway, it was great to see Kathleen again, and I found Alison to be utterly charming at the reading. If I ever publish something myself, and do a reading or two, I wonder if I'll lose my sense of awe at being around real authors.

I'm thinking no. I'm thinking that I'll always feel this way around amazing writers whose work I admire. And that's just fine with me.

8 Sentences

First: Tonight is Ellie's first night in her brand new big girl bed in her brand new big girl room. It's so high! There are no rails! (I did put a lot of cushions on the floor beside the bed, though.) She went to bed more easily than she has in weeks. She came to the door once and knocked, we ignored it briefly, and she climbed back up into bed (with the help of a two step stool!) pulled the blanket over her, and went straight to sleep! We'll see how the rest of the night goes.

Second, my homework for this week. I'm taking a fiction workshop this semester, and last week we read the most incredible short story in class. It was wonderfully crafted, intriguing, and perfectly complete all by itself. It was also 8 sentences long. Our instructor challenged us to follow a similar format for a short story to turn in this week. She did acknowledge that to do this well, we'd need lots and lots of revision time, which we obviously don't have. So presumably a mediocre effort will suffice. Here's my first draft; I borrowed the characters from an old NaNoWriMo fragment.

Clara was storing a box of newborn clothes and diapers in the basement when she stubbed her toe on a slightly dusty cardboard bin that turned out, upon inspection, to contain plaques from the wall of her old office.

She was still sitting on the floor, reading her old notes and commendations, when her husband came back from walking their daughter around and around the block until baby Cate fell asleep. After putting the infant in her crib, he stepped up behind Clara and rested his hands on her shoulders.

"I miss it," she said, "It doesn't have to be this, but it has to be something."

She couldn't see her husband's face, but his hands clenched her shoulders slightly as he said, "But what about Cate?"

Clara stood and walked outside, away from her husband, away from her child. She didn't stop walking until she found herself in the middle of a crowded cafe, twenty pounds lighter than usual without the weight of her child and its baggage. It was not enough.