Good Read

Looking for a good book? I've got the perfect one. And I promise, it's not one of those books that I recommend and you spend the whole time asking yourself "Really? Did she really like this?"

I promise!

It takes place in Mississippi in the early sixties during the civil rights movement. It's about women. It's about equality. It's about friendship and motherhood and forgiveness. A total "chick" book in a totally not cheesy way. Try it.

Gang-Related

A kid was shot in Escondido last week. I heard it while getting ready in the morning - in between putting makeup on and blow-drying my hair. Kids get shot every day, but when I hear Escondido, it always makes feel feel a little sick. Dan Cohen, the news anchor, says police are still unsure if it's gang related. That's bullshit. Even I know it's gang related. I know when I get to school, kids will either be bragging or mourning. If I knew what street he was on when he was shot, I could probably tell you. Diablos or Westside? I'll know in a few hours. By the end of the week, some girls will be wearing home-made shirts that have the words "Rest In Peace" written in Old English across the top. Underneath will be a picture of the boy and the years in which he lived. The years will be close together.

Alfredo sits in the back, close to my desk. I've told him about ten times to get working. He's doing everything he can to avoid it. He's sharpened his pencil twice. Rummaged through his pockets for a pen instead. Doodled in the margins of his paper. Come on, Alfredo, please just work on your vocabulary. He turns around and asks me if I heard about the kid that was shot on Washington Street. Washington, huh? Most likely a Diablo. I told him I heard it this morning and play dumb. Do you think it was gang related, I ask. Alfredo says, "I know it was."

My T.A. looks up from the stack of papers she is grading and shakes her head. She tells him gangs are dumb. He says something in Spanish but the only word I understand means "dick." I yell at him and he looks embarrassed.

I want to know what Alfredo is thinking. Why he is asking ME about the shooting. He wants to talk.

I ask him if he thinks it was a random drive-by. If the kid did something to make another gang angry. What exactly do you have to do to get shot. And here is the most ridiculous story of all- the story of why kids shoot and kill one another.

Me: So, what did the kid do to get shot?

Alfredo: He answered wrong.

Me: What was the question?

Alfredo: Someone probably came up to him and asked him where he is from. The driver pretended he was from Diablos to see what he would say. He threw the Diablos sign back and they caught him. They tricked him. The guy was really from Westside.

Me: They just went up to a random guy and asked him where he was from? What if he wasn't in gang at all?

This is where my T.A. chimes in. She tells me that they can tell by the way someone is dressed if they are in a gang. That no one would stop me or her because we don't dress that way. She points to Alfredo and explains that you have to dress like him to be asked that question.

Alfredo is wearing tan Dickies shorts, his socks pulled up so high that you can't see his legs. He's wearing a white t-shirt and a hat that says "Esco" across the front. I look at Alfredo and asks him why he dresses like that if he knows he is putting himself in danger. He laughs and ignores my question. He tells me he has been shot at before and that he was scared.

"Alfredo, you know it would break my heart if anything-"

and before I can finish I am crying. I didn't feel it coming. I just choke on my words and turn my back to him and stare out the window and try gain some control of myself. I've taught this kid for three years now. I've seen him transform from an innocent freshman into a thug. I loved him. Encouraged him. I tried and it wasn't enough and someday I might see him on the news and Dan Cohen will only say that he was a seventeen year-old Latino boy and the police aren't sure if it was gang related. I stare out the window for a long time. I'm afraid to turn around - but I hear my T.A. crying and I feel responsible. I tell her I'm sorry but then she begins to talk -

She was ten and her brother took her for ice cream. They were walking back home with ice cream cones laughing when a car pulled up next to them and shot her brother in the chest. He didn't make it. She hates gangs and she hates Escondido.

I take a deep breath and tell the kids they have five more minutes to finish up. I'm afraid to look at Alfredo but when I finally do I notice he isn't looking at me. He is concentrating, for the first time, on his vocabulary. A few seconds later he brings his paper to me to let me know he's finished. I think it may have been Alfredo's way of saying I'm sorry.

or maybe even thank you.

6 months down

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23 weeks 3 days

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a polite smoker

i hate smoking. ew. just thinking about it gives me a headache. to make it worse, i feel like i always see people throwing cigarette butts out the window, on the ground, or anywhere they happen to be standing when they finish their drag. so nasty. not only are they polluting the air, but they're also polluting the earth. it just makes my stomach turn.

today, as i was leaving target (a bazillion dollars later) i saw a guy standing next to my car smoking. great. now, i get to inhale smoke the whole time i'm unloading my car (and like i said, i spent a bazillion dollars so it takes a while to unload). when i waddled up to my car the guy looked at me, then my stomach, and smiled. i forced a smile back ( i just hate it when people can't return a nice gesture) but in my head i was thinking "thanks for filling my baby's lungs with tar!"

i popped the trunk and when i turned back i could see the guy moving away from me so that i wouldn't inhale the smoke. it was windy so he kept moving. before i had my second bag in the car he was ALL the way across the parking lot, making sure that i was not downwind from him.

seriously, that was really nice. i mean, really really nice. it sort of made my day - and made me feel a little guilty about stereotyping all smokers into the rude category. i tried to wait around until he came back so i could thank him but he was taking his time and enjoying his smoke. i'm glad i at least smiled.

22 weeks 4 days

Wowza.



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Rollercoaster

Monday started off rough. I woke up still not feeling well and I couldn't seem to get my mind of Dan's uncle's funeral (not a fun weekend). Paired with the fact that it was Monday and forget it - I just wanted to stay in bed. Ugh. The kids complained all day and it was a struggle to get anyone to concentrate. Our weekly Monday meeting was canceled because our principal wanted us to print out some data - which I couldn't do because they had me under my old last name which is no longer in the system. So I sat on the phone with the technology department the whole time and got nothing accomplished. Argggggh.

Then

my friend Liz, who recently gave birth to triplets, called and asked me if I wanted to come over to see the babies and take her maternity clothes. Ummmm. YES! The babies were absolutely adorable and perfect and I got to hold them and feed them. As I was leaving, she also gave me a HUGE bag of baby clothes AND maternity clothes (cute ones too). Wow, that really helped brighten up a crappy day.

Meet Anza, Cole, and Cormac (with Madeline helping):



So, I went to bed last night in a much better mood that I woke up in - but it didn't last long. I tried to sleep but ACID REFLUX kept me up for hours. Every time my head started to fall, the taste of barf would creep up my throat and threaten to come up. I propped myself up so that I was sitting upright but it didn't really help. I was SO tired and frustrated but I couldn't sleep.

I get to work today tired and grumpy. I'm watching the clock because all I can think about is bed but then I remember that I have a nail appointment at 4:00pm and it's not even a fun one. I'm going to get my nails taken off and go back to au natural (I don't like that) because we are cutting unnecessary costs before the baby gets here (also said goodbye to HBO, Showtime, and Starbucks). Feels like a bust.

But then

a student stays after class with a gift for me. She explained that the Holocaust/Night unit we did last semester really impacted her so she went to the library this weekend to see a Holocaust survivor speak (I had encouraged all the kids to go but most don't even consider it). While there she bought me a copy of the lady's book and got it signed for me! Now, if you know me, the way to my heart it through a signed book!!! I jumped up, gave her a huge hug and literally had to bite my lip not to cry. What a thoughtful, sweet thing to do. I may not have anything to watch on TV (Goodbye BIG LOVE and TRUE BLOOD - my favs!) or have attractive hands (I bite my nails when they aren't acrylic) but I have a very sweet girl in my class and a baby boy on the way and a husband at home who will be SO HAPPY to see my broken brittle nails and an extra $35.00 every two weeks.