The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice

A texting conversation:

Me: Also, I introduced Marie to the Hairspray soundtrack today. She loved it! Muahahaha!
Jacob: She will be scarred for life and I can never forgive you for this :(

Somebody doesn't like music that brings joy and laughter and sunshine to the world.

I'll huff, I'll puff, I'll blow you away

I took a logic class in college. It's been some time, but let me try my hand at a scenario:

If Marie wears white pajamas, she'll have a blowout at night.
If we have just done laundry, she'll either soak through her diaper or have a blowout.
Yesterday we did laundry and Marie wore white pajamas.
Therefore . . .

(I'll let you draw the conclusion.)

* * * 

I made a pie chart to represent the contents of our bathroom trash can, but I couldn't figure out how to put it in this blog post. I'll give you the raw figures, though:

Hair: 80%
Toilet paper tubes: 5%
Dental floss: 3%
Used tissues: 4%
Miscellaneous trash: 11%

This postpartum shed thing is no joke. On a weekly basis (at least!) Jacob makes a comment that he can't believe I'm not bald yet. It's pretty foul.

* * * 

School has been in session for three weeks, and for the most part I'm enjoying being back in the classroom. I did a couple team building activities with my class at the start of the year that I'd like to share, because, well, I can.

The first activity was called "Saving Fred." I told the class a story of how Fred the worm was always very safety-conscious and took his life preserver with him when he went out boating, as he doesn't know how to swim. Unfortunately, today his boat capsized before he was able to put his life jacket on. He managed to cling to the underside of the boat, but it was up to my students to retrieve the life jacket from under the boat, put it on Fred, upright the boat, and place Fred in the boat without letting him drown.

(At this point, I demonstrated the initial setup: a peachy-O ring was placed underneath a plastic cup, and a gummy worm was placed on top.)

Of course, the students weren't allowed to use hands -- they could only use paper clips to complete their quest. And before too long I had to tell the students they weren't allowed to stab Fred either, as the point was to keep him alive and unmaimed.

The second activity that they had a lot of fun with was called Constitution Island. It was supposed to be a long drawn out lesson about the importance of rules and such, but I ran out of time, so it boiled down to this:

I told the class we were on a cruise ship sailing to the Bahamas, and I was the captain of the ship. We were looking forward to snorkeling, playing on the beach, and drinking smoothies. Unfortunately, we were caught in a terrible storm, and the passengers were all blown to five separate islands. Of course, the captain always goes down with his (her) ship, so I died. (At this point, the students asked if they could hold a funeral for me and if I was a ghost.)

I then gave instructions that the students had to design their own island and decide upon seven rules to help govern their island. Everything had to be agreed upon by majority rule vote, and they weren't allowed to leave their islands because they would drown since they didn't have boats. And if they got into a disagreement with their fellow island-dwellers, I couldn't resolve it for them, since I was dead.

The kids had a blast with it, and it was especially interesting to see some of their island designs. One group built a Costco on their island "because it has everything there," while another group created a gravesite AND a log cabin for me. It was touching. Sniff, sniff. Yet another group used those scented markers and my room has just finally stopped reeking a week later.

* * *

I hate it when I read a book that rivets me and then I find out the next book in the series doesn't come out until next year. This has been happening surprisingly frequently as of late.

I'm a mean old witch with my hat

I know Halloween is more than two months away, but I'm already brainstorming costume ideas for our little family of three. (Yes, I'm making the assumption that both Marie and Jacob will cooperate and wear costumes with me.) The ideas thus far:

1) Jacob and Jennifer: pirates
Marie: parrot

2) Marie: Albert Einstein (may as well put that hair to good use!)
Jacob and Jennifer: theory of relativity

3) Jacob and Jennifer: bank robbers
Marie: bag of money

4) Marie: scuba diver
Jacob: shark
Jennifer: surfer

5) Jacob and Jennifer: popcorn venders
Marie: bag of popcorn

But if we're being realistic, I have almost zero sewing ability and just as little desire to fork over too many dollars for store bought costumes, so we'll probably end up as a trio of ghosts or something.

Hark! I hear a damsel in distress!

In the past week or so, I've started feeling this sense of urgency to get Marie to take naps in the crib rather than her swing or in my arms. We introduced the crib to her, and it hasn't been going super well. This is what my morning has looked like thus far:

9:00: Put Marie in the crib. She falls asleep quickly. Success!

9:30: Marie wakes up. Failure. 

9:35: Perhaps she's hungry. Feed the mancub!

10:00: Put Marie in the crib. She falls asleep. Victory!

10:12: Marie wakes up. Failure. Resolve to keep her in the crib to help her learn to fall asleep on her own.

10:15: Resolve crumbles. Retrieve Marie from the crib.

10:30: Sneak Marie back into the crib because she's looking drowsy still. 

11:08: Marie wakes up. Maybe she's slept long enough to stay awake for awhile? Nope, she's still grouchy.

11:22: Once again, she starts to fall asleep while holding her. Back to the crib, offspring!

12:53: She's still sleeping? Resist the urge to wake Marie up so I have someone to play with. 

Promises you don't intend to keep

Apparently, Jacob and I need to brush up on the lyrics to lullabies:

Jacob: Rock a bye baby, in the treetop. When the wind blows, the cradle will flop.

Me: Hush little baby, don't say a word. Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don't sing, Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring don't . . . shine, Mama's gonna buy you a porcupine.

At least Marie doesn't seem to care that we're butchering the words to the classics.

Top 5 signs you may be married to a teacher

You may be married to a teacher if . . .

5. The most helpful thing you can do for your spouse is help grade papers.
4. You know the names of 26 kids you've never met.
3. You've ever had to reassure your spouse that the failed math tests does not mean s/he is a bad teacher.
2. You find yourself being roped into coming to school on Saturday to help pack up a classroom. (The Powers That Be, WHY did you think it was a good idea to do construction on the school over the summer, necessitating everything be packed in boxes before the school year is even over?!)
1. While talking to your spouse at church, s/he tells you to "turn your voice off."

There's a snake in my boot!

Right now, I'm running a pioneer simulation with my class. Think Oregon Trail, minus the hunting and Aunt Carol screaming during the rafting (and the computer altogether), and adding in diary entries, coin tosses, and checker tossing to determine the fates of the pioneers.

I divided the class into wagon trains and each student picked an identity from a list which informed them of their family members, occupations, and animals. Then each student had to decide which supplies they were going to take with them in their wagon.

At the start of the simulation, one boy asked me how much time the simulation covered. He was very concerned because his wife was five months pregnant, and he wanted to know if he needed to bring a baby cradle, should his wife give birth on the trail.

Then on Wednesday, one of my students failed to throw a checker into a trash can over his shoulder from ten feet away, so he was shot in the arm with an arrow during a fight with Native Americans. The fate dictated that he had to wear his arm in a sling for the next two days. I could've brought one of the gender neutral baby blankets we have for him to use as a sling, but you better believe I made him wear the one with the pink fairies on it. (If only I had thought to take a picture!)

On two separate occasions, pioneers on a certain trail lost livestock if, from 20 feet away, they failed to throw a checker less than 12 inches from the wall. Friday a boy asked me, "Mrs. Erickson? How am I pulling my wagon? I don't have any more animals!" For some reason I thought this was hilarious and couldn't stop laughing. I told him that perhaps someone else on his wagon train let him borrow a cow. Bahaha.

They don't know it yet, but at the end of the simulation, very few of them will actually make it to their destination alive. I can hardly wait! Mostly because by the time we get there, school will be almost out for the summer! Woohoo! (Those of you who have already finished the school year, bite your tongue. I don't want to hear it.)