What's in a name?

All my students want to name my baby. I don't even know the sex yet, and they want to name my baby.
Currently ranking at the top of the "stupid question list" is...
"If you had to name your baby after a body part, what would you name it?"

Most students think that they're being clever and inform me that my baby will be named after them. Trayson told me several times that I should do this, apparently hoping that nagging will result in the answer, "FINE! Just leave me alone!"

Kevin wants to name my baby "Optimus Prime". He thinks this will ensure my baby's future popularity. Everyone will love a kid named Optimus Prime. Girl or boy. Considering the current associations that Optimus Prime has, I don't want a kid associated with a poorly written Shia LaBouef movie.

I have recently noticed a trend in names ending with the "uh" sound. My entire 4th period class has names ending with the letter 'a'. When I call roll it sounds like I have the hiccups.

I had a student with a sister named "Abcde" (pronounced "ab-si-dee") and she told me, "Un-uh, Miss, don't you dare take that name. We got it first."

Whenever I have the "you should name your baby this" conversation with my students, they are shocked that I haven't picked one out yet. I'm currently in my 4th month. And don't they know... My husband's favorite past time is coming up with names.

So if our kid is named "Avery Fine Jackson" or "Schwaawawawawa" (pronounced as you would make the sound effect of a spring), you know who to blame.

Animal

Amaya and I were having a fairly pleasant morning until I found her licking the mop. The one I had just been cleaning with. Yes.

We’ve been hanging out with her cousins, Taj and Eden. Eden is a total lady. She even talks quietly. Jill told me that she only will wear skirts, and I thought, “Hmmm. I don’t think Amaya has clothes preferences, that much anyway.” Next morning I try to put a skirt on her.

“JEANS! I WANT ONLY JEANS!” Ensue complete tantrum.

I have become hyper aware of Amaya’s loud persona. She yells when she wants something, when she’s having fun, or when she wakes up in the morning. All the time. We tell her to whisper (so Jake or I can still sleep while the other is getting her breakfast) and the first 3 words of her sentence start that way, until they crescendo, as in, “I would like soME GRANOLA PLEASE!”

For church she gets dressed up, and cries when we brush her hair. Although we do the hair brushing every morning, by about three o’clock she looks like a woman of the wild. I often find myself getting a whiff of her afternoon sweat and sticky and reeling a little.

We took the kids to the zoo a week ago and I decided that my animal is still pretty cute. And loud. And ravenous. She ate most of Jill’s snack bag.

 

Lil’ Mama

I’ve been a really bad mama lately, but Amaya is the best mama.

If you are her baby, as I always am when we play, she makes you eggs. She even takes the pickles out if you don’t like them. She doesn’t let you have dessert before dinner even if you ask nicely. And she always tells you that you’re smart and pretty.

Then she tucks you in for bed and kisses you good night, waits 10 seconds, and wakes you up to get ready for the day (and NO, you cannot sleep in).

I hope little mamas can be as nice as big sisters.

Giving it Away

At times I'm overwhelmed by the need to help others. It's pretty selfish to even say that I get to be overwhelmed.  I read the article in the paper about the kids in Haiti who are sitting mute in camps and no one knows what their names are or whether their parents are alive, and I think I'm pretty lush in my 2 bedroom apartment with food in the fridge and shoes to wear. And a bed. Goodness knows, if you have a bed, you are really well off.
Then, when you start thinking of helping them, you start thinking of the guy who is pushing a Foodland cart filled with stuff from Kahuku to Laie, and the couple who, granted, are deadbeats, but their kids who don't have a place to live after being evicted. There are just so many people out there that need help. It's devastating. I wish I had confidence to give more. To do more. I wish it didn't feel like I had to take care of my own stuff and I could get myself to go take care of other people's stuff.
Me and my bleeding heart have the luxury to even consider ourselves sad for everyone else.

I felt pretty good about my students for raising $200 in change and dollars for Haiti in one week. Mostly my two classes, but a few other classes at school chipped in and now that I've donated the money through Foodland (for American Red Cross) we've doubled it to $400 with a per dollar match. So I think my students are awesome right now. As much as I complain about them behind their backs and to their faces, and even though the money they had was probably from their parents, the fact that they considered the difference between buying a Monster for breakfast and putting that money in a box is pretty significant to me. Because their little bit of considering someone outside their present needs is a big deal for a teenager.

So, yeah. Seeing that, as a teacher, is making my day. Kids are good. Even the rascals.

Irrits

I think I have to blame my poor attitude lately on my general malaise. I am constantly finding myself storming into Pam's room (at home or school) to complain loudly about the newest thing that is driving me crazy. I am quite aware that everything is driving me crazy and anything is likely to set me off.
Now, I have considered all the many people that might be reading this blog and I think that some of them will think they are being implicated by my pointed bullet points, but I assure you. There are plenty of people that I enjoy talking to, helping out, and being with, and these people have nothing to do with the irritating people that I do not enjoy talking to, helping out, and being with. It's an important distinction.
These are the latest irritations that I have encountered that seem to fire me up the more I think about them:
1) People who think I have nothing better to do than to do their work for them. These people suggest helplessness in such a way as to imply that I should suggest just picking up the slack for them. These people are especially ones who seem to me to be completely not busy, ever. In fact, I wonder what they do other than plan ways to rope more capable and responsible people into working for them.
2) People who wish to chat. For long periods of time (friends, please note the disclaimer above). A friend e-mailed me today while a student of hers was waxing prolix about the origins of her name, state facts, and family history--a conversation that was practically holding her hostage during her free time. These are the kinds of people I'm talking about. People who have zero assurance from me that we are even friends, yet keep behaving as if we have made that connection.
3) People who think they know better than me. WHO do these people think they ARE?

I'm hoping that once this trimester is over that my normally cheery happy self will return (HA!), or at least that I will be able to keep my mouth shut a little better.
So all my ranting lately has got me thinking that I should at least let other people do so. What's bothering you?