Ironically, one of the biggest reasons I considered teaching as a career was because I thought it would allow me to still work, but have more time with my family, whenever that would happen. An honest confession for you all: growing up, I never really had the desire to be a “stay at home mom”.

Don’t get me wrong, here. The prospect of staying home with little Baby Boothe, at least for now, is more exciting than I ever dreamed it could be. But, I think that there was some serious divine intervention in my life that she is coming at this time, because knowing that she would be here this summer helped make the decision to leave teaching more obvious and clear-cut.

But the true reason I’m leaving the teaching profession:

I have to leave for myself, because the system is broken.

I first wanted to be a teacher when I was in high school. I had a few teachers in particular that were truly inspirational to me, and I saw how they loved their work and their students. They were truly mentors to me, and I wish they all knew it now. In college, the decision became more clear and obvious, and I realized it was more than just a job to me; it was a calling.

I am crying a little as I type this, because there was a point in my life that I thought I would never want to do anything but be a teacher.

I loved teaching. I loved watching my students “get it”. I loved (most of) my students. I loved sharing beautiful poetry, tense short stories, and exciting novels with my kids. I loved getting to know my students and watch them grow throughout the year as better readers and writers. I especially loved this time of year where we would have conversations about what they learned about writing, and they would proudly pull out their favorite project of the year and excitedly explain to me what they learned by doing it. I loved how students would declare at the beginning of the year, “I hate reading. I never like the novels we read in class.” And before they knew it, these same students were begging to read the next chapter of The Outsiders, or they had finished The Hunger Games early and asked if it was okay to start Catching Fire on their own. (Picture me rubbing my hands together here and giving a little evil laugh). I even loved most of those crazy things they would say and do that would make me laugh out loud when I retold the stories to Jared that evening.

This year, those things I loved so much were almost completely gone.

The government and state have shown how much they value education, which is precious little. That meant that time with students went down, while number of students and classes went drastically up. I went from teaching roughly 70 students to 120 students.  90 minutes daily with these kids went down to 50. And state testing standards/expectations just got more ridiculous.

First of all, trying to give meaningful, constructive comments and criticism on 70 papers takes time. When you nearly double that number, the hours of grading go up dramatically. As any good writing teacher knows, there’s not a shortcut or mnemonic device to help you be a good writer. It a process. It takes multiple drafts, revision, editing. It takes time and effort.

I know that it’s nothing new for a lot of teachers out there. Many have dealt with shorter times and lots of students for years. But those 90 minutes were absolutely beautiful and precious to me. My district was DOING IT RIGHT, investing in their students’ future by giving them valuable extra time for math, reading, and writing.

For many of my lower students, that was the difference between feeling like they could be writers and readers, or shutting down completely. We could conference one on one, discuss particular things that they enjoyed or were worried about in their writing. I could ask them what book they were reading, would they recommend it, why, and if they wanted any suggestions for when they were done. We could sit and discuss the beauty of a poem, and how it related to the novel we were reading or world around them, because spending 15-20 minutes to let THEM share what they noticed was not taking away from “Core Curriculum Standards”.

So, so many of the exciting things I wanted to do with my students fell to the wayside because we just “didn’t have time.”

Funny, how the other day, we had an activity at my school that shortened each class period by about 5 minutes. As one of my average, normal students was leaving to go home at the end of the day, he turned to me and said, “Wait, we only lost five minutes of class? It just felt like so much more, for some reason. I wish I had more time in here today.” I nodded, and before I could decide if that comment made me want to hug him or made me want to cry, he walked out the door.

Many times this year, little things that I could brush off my shoulders quickly started to stick like a nasty case of dandruff. The millions of monotonous meetings  and tasks that took up precious planning and grading time were too much, because I was still losing hours of sleep every week trying to make it all fit at home. The emails of parents angry that “This year in LA hasn’t been like last year” stabbed me to the core. When over half my students didn’t show up with their homework assignment, (they had a week to find a poem or song they liked and bring it to class; it could have been typed or hand-written), I was crushed with disappointment. And the morning sickness and fatigue of pregnancy didn’t make it any easier, especially when you are afraid of telling people why you really do look like crap. (How many times after I DID start letting people at work know was I asked, “Oh, really? Was it planned?”  If looks could kill…)

Ever seen this go around on Facebook? It’s completely true. I have lost track over the past year that I have gone out of my way to give up my lunch time daily to get kids in to work on an assignment, or before or after school, and still haven’t “Done enough” according the the parent who emails the principal to complain while CCing me on the email as an afterthought.

Every time something happened in my school that shouldn’t have happened, every additional favor or task I was asked to do, every parent email I had to write or respond to, extra paper work that wasn’t supposed to be mine, nearly overwhelmed me.  Daily, my sweet husband told me when I needed to vent, “It’s not personal.”

Angrily, I reminded him that teaching IS personal. Almost every teacher I work with devotes hours and hours of unpaid time because THEY LOVE TEACHING STUDENTS. We even love the awkward middle school ones, who aren’t as sweet as elementary kids, and not as mature and capable as the high school kids.

It was personal, and it was making me constantly physically ill and more stressed. My immune system had been low all year because of stress, but was even more drastically affected because of the pregnancy. By mid December, I knew that I would not return to teaching middle school, and was trying to decide if hanging in there to apply to high school was even worth it. (Turns out, it wasn’t.) But I didn’t quit like I desperately wanted or needed to, because I didn’t want my students to be affected by the mess it always is when a teacher leaves mid-year.

As I said earlier, the impending birth of my daughter has been the biggest blessing in this whole ordeal. If I didn’t know that I would have her, I might try to cling just one more year to this broken system, in hopes that it would “get better.” But I’ve seen what happens when people chose between their jobs and their own families. I’ve taught those kids several times. I’m putting my family first.

Daily, something happens that reminds me why I am so glad I made this decision. I will miss some of the amazing students I have taught and the incredible people I’ve gotten to work with, but I have never felt better or more confident in a decision than I do in this one to leave teaching.

Does it mean that I won’t be working at all next year? I don’t know. I’m looking into different options right now for extra income. If those don’t work out, I will stay at home, and I will not regret the decision to leave teaching public education.

Will I ever return to this profession? I don’t know. Maybe if some of the problems get fixed, I could go back. But until then, I am running, not walking, away from teaching, and I’m not looking back.

(Here we take a moment of silence for skinnier days and sexy high-heeled shoes.)

In case you didn’t pick up on it, my post title is referring to the fact that after five years, I know more than ever that marrying my husband was exactly what I needed. I know that now MUCH more than I could have ever realized at the time I had to make the decision.

Example: Jared has been fabulous throughout the whole pregnancy. With all my symptoms and tiredness mingled with work stress, Jared really has taken over with doing stuff around the house and making sure that things get done. Laundry, grocery shopping, stuff with the dogs… you name it, he’s helped out with it. I couldn’t ask for a more supportive partner. I don’t know how some people do this on their own and stay sane.

Anyways, this is the guy who planned the whole 5th anniversary as a surprise for me.

We went to a cabin in the middle of Nowhere, Texas, (really, nobody I’ve talked to has known where this place was or the towns nearby it, for that matter) to relax and get away from everything. It was a B&B of sorts on a ranch, which had a lot of coolness potential. There were no TVs or internet access, and even our cell phone use was extremely limited, which was fine by us.

There were some extreme negatives, but I am not going to focus on those here, because they were completely beyond Jared’s control and I know he still feels really bad about it. Despite the negatives there were some great positives.

Like the beautiful scenery:

Or cool “wild” life:

But best of all, I got to spend the weekend with my best friend, not having to worry about anything work related. That was the best present I could have asked for. He tried so hard to make the weekend as perfect as possible for me despite the big, fat, pregnant slug I’ve turned into lately.

So, happy five years to the love of my life. I can’t imagine anyone else I would have preferred to spend the past five years with, or spend the next future fifty with.

Even if sometimes that means we go camping or to a place with no cell phone reception.

High heels have been retired; flat shoes, sneakers, and tennis shoes only need apply.

(Please excuse the poor photography. I was working with the mirror, my cell phone camera, and myself in a small space.)

AND you can see it from the front now!

Oh! Let’s cut to semi-relevant movie quotes from a classic, “So I Married an Axe Murderer”:

Stuart Mackenzie: Look at the size of that boy’s heed.
Tony Giardino: Shhh!
Stuart Mackenzie: I’m not kidding, it’s like an orange on a toothpick.
Tony Giardino: Shhh, you’re going to give the boy a complex.
Stuart Mackenzie: Well, that’s a huge noggin. That’s a virtual planetoid.
Tony Giardino: Shh!
Stuart Mackenzie: Has it’s own weather system.
Tony Giardino: Sh, sh, shh.
Stuart Mackenzie: HEAD! MOVE!

What? Can’t that be relevant to the growing size of my stomach? No? Okay. Hopefully somebody other than me found that reference funny.

Most of the time, eleven weeks feels so far away. Consider: the big belly, just getting bigger (eek!). Or the fun pregnancy symptoms, like body ache, swollen hands/feet, endless fatigue and attempts to get comfortable… Or just with trying to finish the school year as well as I possibly can with the many limitations placed in front of me.

BUT- we are starting to get down to the wire. Things to get, rooms to clean, plans to make.

We even went to a childbirth class offered through the hospital yesterday. It was a beautiful day, perfect temperature, and we were stuck inside from 8:30 am – 5:00 pm practicing breathing exercises, learning to swaddle, watching videos about various birthing situations, medicine/surgery options, and breastfeeding. Woohoo. I think the highlight of the day was the end when we got to tour the maternity wing of the hospital.

By the way, if you can choose between having an eight hour class in one day, or having it split two hours over four days, CHOOSE THE FOUR DAYS! You just can’t absorb it all in one sitting. It’s too much and too long.  I’ve read multiple books about pregnancy, delivery, and infant care in the last several months, and I was still overwhelmed, tired, and muddled by the end of the day. (For Jared, it was a complete crash course of what to expect, other than what I’ve regurgitated to him from my books that he only halfheartedly was listening to anyways…)

As the deadline approaches, there’s just more and more to do before we can welcome this little one into our family. Really, we are more excited than ever. (Except for those moments that we go, “What the heck were/are we thinking?! We are going to be in charge of an actual living, breathing baby in less than three months!?”)

Let’s hope we get it all done before she gets here.

Anyways, because I wasn’t feeling great, Jared was the one to let them out. The dogs usually bark and mess around when they are outside, so I didn’t think twice about that as I dozed back off. Surprisingly, just a few minutes after getting up, Jared called me -not called for me up the stairs; he called my CELL PHONE- telling me to get outside, immediately.

Naturally, that’s not the sort of call you ignore, so I got up and ran out to the front like he had asked. Jared was standing in the back of his truck with the hose poised to spray the roof of the garage. When I got closer, this is what I saw:

(Raccoons pictured actually look MORE pathetic in person than they appear as shown here. Really. You can see that sad, sad look in their eyes!)

This little fella had been playing in our backyard when our dastardly dogs located him and chased him UP ON TO OUR ROOF of our garage. (I really would have liked to see how he managed that.) Then our raccoon friend started to try and get more safe and secure by apparently pulling at the siding of the house. Entre: Jared. Spotting this ridiculously scared raccoon on our roof, he decided the best way to get it to move was by spraying water at it to chase it off (which, by the way, is a top recommended method for discouraging raccoons to hang out by your house).

Unfortunately, this just motivated the raccoon to move from the back of the house to the front, which is when I came into the picture (and took that pathetic picture).

After convincing Jared to do some research on the best way to handle raccoons, we went back inside (and did research- imagine that!). We quickly learned that if you have a raccoon issue, animal control and wildlife services don’t really care. The best way to get rid of them is if you pay a pest control service or try to remove them yourself with various methods (like spraying water at them).

Naturally, this called for some creative thinking. We devised a master plan. I would stand in the back of the truck in front of the house with the hose poised to spray. Jared would get on the back of the house with a very long piece of house trimming and try and guide it into the tree, where then the raccoon could make a quick escape onto a fence or the ground. The end.

It all went as planned. Except for the part where the raccoon was supposed to go DOWN the tree. Instead, the ridiculous raccoon went UP the tree. Extremely up the tree. Wrong, wrong direction.

(It’s kind of like “Where’s Waldo?” except this time, it was “Where’s the Raccoon?”)

And there Mr. Raccoon stayed there for over TWO DAYS.

Monday morning before work, I went out and tried to check with a flashlight (because of the “Spring Forward” time change, it’s still pretty dark when I leave for work), but couldn’t see him. I was hopeful that he got smart during the night and left, but NO. Jared texted me at work to let me know that Raccoon was on the same section of tree as he had been all Sunday.

By Tuesday evening, I was concerned. We were supposed to have a monster storm, and the raccoon had stayed in the same vincinity for over 48 hours.Was this thing sick? WHY would you sit in a tree for that long without food if you were feeling okay? I called a pest control place who said there wasn’t much they could do except set some traps out at the base of the tree and hope the raccoon would get to the food first (because we have LOTS of awesome critters… squirrels, frogs/toads, big birds, cats, OPOSSUMS -which had been the previously coolest critter we had seen in the yard up to this point, if you wanted to know- that could get stuck instead). He also said that it was unusual for healthy raccoons to behave this way, but not unheard of, and call him in a day or so if we still had The Issue.

Thanks for NOTHING, Mr. Pest Control.

So here we were, with a pathetic raccoon stuck in the tree and a monster storm on the way, and no new ideas. All we had left to do is wait out the storm and hope the raccoon was smart (and healthy) enough to move on. And boy, did we have a storm. Midnight to 6:00AM was all about the thunder, lightening, heavy rain, and hail.

I fully expected to see a dead raccoon in our backyard Wednesday morning. (I’m Captain Positive-O, right?)

Wait for it…

The raccoon was gone. Without a trace. Not in any of our trees, or on the roof, not dead on the ground, not anywhere on our premises. The raccoon finally made his great escape!

Over a week later, I am happy to say we have had no further raccoon incidences. As cute as he was, I think it’s probably best that he stay away. I like to pretend that he found a nice, dry tree to hide in away from any humanoids, and now is happily scavenging around without running into further trouble. (See, I CAN be positive sometimes, JARED!)

But perhaps I speak out of turn. It may be too soon to tell…

Stay tuned for any return reports on Wretched Raccoon sitings!

Knowing this, it should come as no surprise that today, St. Patrick’s Day, is his favorite holiday. And even though I am far away, I can’t forget that. (I personally like St. Patrick’s because it’s all about the beautiful Emerald Isle, and I would love to go there again and visit some day, but each to their own!)

Anyway, so I am wearing my green. Are you?

Moving on.

Pretty much the highlight of my life right now is getting things prepared for Baby Boothette’s arrival. It’s hard to focus or care about anything else right now. (That doesn’t sound too crazy, does it?) But those of you who have done this whole “having a kid” thing realize that it can get ridiculously expensive. Average crib prices are $400+, not including mattresses, bedding, etc. Strollers, monitors, carriers, car seats, clothes… it’s enough to make your head spin!

The guy who is essentially Jared’s “boss” (and just had his second child this past summer,) suggested some books to Jared. Naturally, we bought them. (Please refrain from any brown-nosing comments. Thank you.) So far, the most useful has been the book Baby Bargains.

My main complain with this book is the awkward size. It is really oddly shaped for a book- long and not very wide, combined with a good amount of pages that seems to stress the binding when you try to read the book. I know that sounds silly, but that really bothered me when I first started reading it. Fortunately, once you get past the awkwardness, the book is a treasure trove of information.

Example: Ikea cribs are some of the best deals you can get out there. Why spend $400-$700 for a crib when you can get the following for $119?

(We are going with a white crib because 1: We are having a girl. White girly furniture is just fine. And 2: My mom gave us all my white bedroom furniture when we bought the house. Meaning this crib will match perfectly with the girly stuff. Maybe one day our daughter can appreciate “vintage” furniture???)

So, we are pretty excited that this crib gets an “A” (excellent) rating for such a great price. Please note, according to the book, Ikea cribs are in the “good” section for cribs, but when you get to high chairs, they get a C+ (generally avoid) rating. So it’s not a simple blanket statement for brands, which is cool.

Not to be sacrilegious, this book has become our “Baby Bible.” There’s information, ratings, and charts for everything you could imagine regarding babies, broken down into smart sections, plus what the book reviewers say are their favorites (good, better, best). You even have parts like how many onesies and other outfits would you want to have for a new baby?

Just fabulous.

If I had to be sick, at least I was sick while reading this book, because I’ve been having way too much fun planning out everything for the baby!

(Oh, what have I turned into that this excites me so?)

Fortunately, I am on Spring Break this week. Unfortunately, I’ve been sick for the past week, so I haven’t really had a chance to enjoy it up to this point in time. Because sick and pregnancy goes hand in hand with each other, apparently, especially with that special ironic twinge that you can’t take most medications to alleviate symptoms.

Fortunately, being sick means I have had a lot of time to “relax”. Unfortunately, “relax” means you get so bored that plucking hairs out of your head one by one seems to be the only route to retain a semblance of sanity. (Which I pretty much lost about 4 years ago anyways, when I started teaching seventh grade.)

Fortunately.. okay, enough of that.

Even with my cold/cough, Spring Break started with a big of a bang. I’ve had a medical issue a few times throughout the pregnancy that has given us a couple of scares, and it reoccurred Thursday evening and went into Friday. Since this was a little longer than previous times, I called the doctor’s office on my lunch. Really, since this wasn’t new, I was expecting to be told to just wait a little longer or to come in later in the day. You can imagine my surprise when they “strongly recommended” that I go straight to the Emergency Room in the hospital.

Now, before you get your panties all bunched in a wad, everything is FINE. Baby Boothe was never in any distress. In fact, she’s kicking or wiggling right now as I write this. Honestly, the scariest part of the whole experience was being told that I should go to the E.R. and having to get subs to cover my classes at the last minute. (Fortunately, I have some awesome, supportive coworkers that immediately stepped to the plate when I told them I needed to leave.)

Anyways, I talked to Jared, and he immediately got himself pulled together to meet me at home to take me to the E.R. (Who ever wants to the emergency room by themselves?!) Our hospital’s emergency room is actually quite pleasant and calm, or was when we went in at noon on a Friday. There was a little confusion, because at 23 weeks, apparently that goes straight to their OB/labor unit. And then apparently my doctor’s office and nurses never actually talked to my doctor before telling us to go to the E.R.

On the upside, I got a taste of what it will be like to check in whenever I do go to the labor. The rooms aren’t too bad, and they have a good sized shower in the bathroom. And the nurse that hung out with us while we monitored Baby Boothe’s heart rate was quite pleasant. (After 15 minutes, the heart rate was still perfect, and the issue had been fading away, so we were discharged pretty quickly because it was clear that Baby Boothe was not in distress.)

The moral of the story? I really don’t know. I can think of a couple of things that are rather clever, but none to positive to say.

Let’s just leave it at the fact that this Spring Break can only get better from here…right?

But let’s face it. You are tuning in for something a little more exciting than just basic anatomy reports about Baby Boothe. So let’s get down to business.

Baby Boothe is a Boothette.

That’s right! We’re having a baby girl! I’d show you the proof, but that probably would be seen as taboo and violating my child’s future rights as a human being once they appear outside the womb. But let’s just leave it at the fact that we don’t have a lot of questions about the gender, because she wasn’t in a very lady-like position.

Anyways, apparently there will be a lot of pinks, bows, and dresses in our future. And we couldn’t be happier. Lots of fun planning to start doing now that we know.

On a final note, look at these cute little toes! Already love them!

That’s right. Jared had the insight before we even knew about Baby Boothe to buy the matinee tickets, which meant that we got to go at 2:00 PM instead of 8:00PM, which was much better for my pregnant body. And naturally, the musical was again, incredible. And Jared was great when the rest of the evening thereafter I kept singing songs from the musical… Didn’t complain once.

In summary: it made for an amazing day.

Today the magic continued. The surprising part was that my day started off so well at work because my students were so incredibly sweet. I have never received so many thoughtful gifts from my students for Valentines before! I got all sorts of candy, cupcakes, and even these beautiful flowers from a seventh grader student:

Crazy, right?

Then, when I thought the day couldn’t get any better, Jared sent flowers to my work, which were also beautiful. And they made all the girls in my 5th period class go “Awwww” because of how sweet it was that my husband sends me flowers at work.

Then I got to come home, make a fun dinner for my wonderful husband, and eat said dinner with my wonderful husband. Then, to top it all off, we did some additional gift-giving, wherein Jared went over our pre-arranged money limit (he usually does) but always has thoughtful gifts that I love!

All in all, it’s been a wonderful day, and I feel so lucky to be surrounded by great people, especially my incredible husband!

(Baby Boothe 12/27/2012. Two days later, s/he was in the much more respectable pose that I used for our announcement blog.)

The range of emotions that swell up in me each time I feel movement is like I never felt before-at least not all at once.

Part of it is a little mysterious. Like a little secret you hold on to; only you know what’s going on. The reason why I smile in the middle of an otherwise boring training. Or stop and pause for a moment because I want to savor the moment.

Part of it is terrifying. Who am I to be attempting to raise a child? All the “What if?”s and things that could go wrong (and in my life, usually seem to do).  Fear for being responsible for a tiny, helpless being, who one day must be a functioning, contributing member to society in a world that seems to increasingly grow in insanity by the minute.

Mostly, though, it is pure joy. Wonderment. Ecstasy. Because I know there is a little life in there when four and a half months ago, there was nothing but me. Amazement at the rapid growth. The miracle of life. And this time, I get to be a part of it.

Despite all the many difficult symptoms I have/am experiencing, it feels so worth it all. Because I already have such incredible hope and love for this unborn child. Each and every extra wiggle, kick, or stretch I can feel just reminds me that my baby is there, and for now, is safe and doing well.

Now, I just hope I can hold to that thought and joy in four months from now when wiggles are full blown kicks and stretches under my rib cage in the middle of the night!