bearing blog


bear – ing n 1  the manner in which one comports oneself;  2  the act, power, or time of bringing forth offspring or fruit; 3 a machine part in which another part turns [a journal ~];  pl comprehension of one’s position, environment, or situation;   5  the act of moving while supporting the weight of something [the ~ of the cross].


  • On and on.

    Wednesday I was so tired I took a nap around 9:30 AM.  When I pushed myself up to a sitting position a couple of hours later, I suddenly dissolved into tears and couldn't figure out why.  I was frustrated that I hadn't been able to get much done that day, but I didn't think I was that frustrated.  A few hours later, when the crying wouldn't stop, I decided I had had some kind of hormone dump into my bloodstream.  Whatever was going on, it had more to do with what was happening in my body than what was happening in either the world outside or in my mind.

    Maybe it's to a fault, but I tend to regard a lot of the more intense parts of my emotional life as exterior to my thinking, being self, the part I can exercise my will over.  

    Whatever — the rest of Wednesday and most of yesterday I declared a mental health day.  I decided that the stuff on Wednesday hadn't got done because I was having a "sick day."  Thus classified, the frustration evaporated (I'm allowed to get sick, after all).  I called Hannah and requested a change of plans — could she host us on Thursday instead of me hosting her and Melissa?   Of course she said yes (thank goodness, I still felt yucky and I just couldn't face readying the house for everybody).  

    Then, Thursday:  I took my time getting ready; took the kids out for pancakes (I had a giant Mexican scrambled eggs with nopalitos and corn tortillas, myself); went over to Hannah's; had tea; read to the three oldest children from a fantastic and riveting book about the Monroe doctrine (no kidding); didn't do any other schoolwork stuff; drove home to meet Mark; went with the family to a show at the Children's Theatre Company; and went out for a late supper.

    Just what I needed.  

    Meanwhile, I had contractions ALL DAY LONG.  They intensified throughout the day, so that by the time we sent the kids to bed, they made me gasp.  But they never turned regular, you know, so many minutes apart and lasting so long.  So I got the distinct impression I wasn't going into labor.  They kept going all night, or at least until about 3 AM.  I slept between them and maybe even through some. 

     This morning I'm pretty tired.  But the baby has definitely dropped.  I figured that out when I got up to go to the bathroom in the wee hours.  My moment of rotational inertia appears to have decreased significantly.

    I haven't yet decided what kind of day I need to have today.  



  • Quarterly reports.

    I spent a couple of hours Sunday night writing up a "report card" of sorts for Oscar.  It doesn't look like a traditional report card, it's more of a lengthy journal entry, or a letter I write to myself four times a year summing up what we've done over the last 9 weeks. 

    Neither the state nor the school district asks me to generate quarterly progress reports.  It's something I tried last year, just to see how it would turn out, and decided it was worthwhile.  Here's why:

    It's encouraging.  Almost every quarter, I think I have had a lot of days where we didn't meet our goals, and I usually expect to be disappointed in how we've done.  I think of all the days when we ran out of time and had to skip math, or when some crisis meant a shorter day; those failures loom large in my memory.  But when I sit down with my daily records and transcribe them out by subject — that is, when I list our accomplishments — I can see that we've really covered a lot of ground, and usually done some cool stuff along the way.

    I can see where I need to improve my self-discipline.  Did I teach each subject as many times a week as I'd hoped to?  Have I been checking work as it's completed or am I letting sloppy work slip by?  

    It gives me a chance to reflect on how we spend our time.  When I sit down and write about what we've done, it forces me to evaluate whether it's what we should be doing. 

    It's a way to summarize what we've done for my husband's benefit.   Homeschooling is definitely a whole-family effort, and Mark is great for all kinds of cool projects and getting the kids to swimming lessons and things like that, but I supervise most of the daily work and consequently I know a lot more about it than he does.  When I write up a summary, he can read it and get a much better overview of how things are going.

    By injecting a little professionalism into my school year, it reminds me that the work I do is worthy of my best efforts.  One of the things Mark has to do for his job — a task common to many professionals — is produce regular reports that summarize his success in meeting objectives and also lay out new short-term and long-term objectives.  I had to do something like it myself when I was in grad school, too.  Even though the primary audience for Mark's reports is, well, everyone who might have influence over his career path, he says the act of writing it is helpful for him personally too.  And even though the primary audience of my quarterly reports is just me, I find that the act of sitting down and writing them helps me to maintain perspective.  This is my vocation and my job; it is how I contribute valued work to the family.  It deserves my best effort.  It's not that writing the reports is a necessary part of that best effort — it's more that the reports help me stay committed and motivated.

    It organizes my mental model of how our schooling is structured.  If a friend or relative asks me how things are going, I can answer with specifics.  "The topic that really got Oscar interested this year was our Civil War study," I can say.  "He was especially interested in the naval blockade of the South and the battle between the Monitor and the Merrimack.  And he really liked the hardtack we made and he wants us to make it again sometime soon."  That's a lot more interesting than "Oh fine, we did the Civil War this year." 

    It provides a record for the families I co-school with.  I teach history and Latin to two other families, and it's a piece of cake to email the paragraphs I wrote about those subjects to the other families for their records.   I don't formally assess the other kids — it's up to the parents to decide whether the children are performing adequately — but at least I can give them a record of which topics we discussed, which books we read together, and that sort of thing.

    It doesn't have to be a chore, and it doesn't have to take longer than you want it to.  I  write daily, here and elsewhere, as a means of living an examined life.  I never feel I've understood something until I've re-narrated it to myself.  I am writing mainly for myself.  So I'm comfortable with producing this document and I enjoy writing it.  I write it in the same sort of style I write my more organized and thought-out blog posts.  I've streamlined the process somewhat with a few changes to my daily routine — I set up my daily assignment sheets and Oscar's "portfolio" of work in a format that puts most of the information I need in one place, and I keep a lot of the files on Google Docs where I can get at them from anywhere.  So the day I decide to do my quarterly write-up, it takes me about ten minutes to throw everything I need for reference into a tote bag, along with my netbook, and head to a coffee shop for a couple of hours.  It helps that I produce them for myself and not for some state requirement — I'd probably be very annoyed by them if I HAD to do them or if I had to follow some official format.

    It'll be fun to look back at them in a few years.  At least I assume so.  This is only the second year I've done them so I haven't had time to get nostalgic yet. 

    And, of course, it provides concise records, should I ever need them.  While i'm not required to make quarterly reports to the state or the school district, I am required to maintain some kind of records of my assessment of my children's progress, records that the school district can request I show them.  There are a lot of different ways to comply with this, including just keeping every scrap of paper jumbled up in a cardboard box (and I often reflect on how much fun it would be to deliver records in THAT form to the school district if they ever demanded to see them), but the nice thing about quarterly records is that they take up so little space — just a thin little sheaf of paper per year per student.

    I'll write more another time, about how I put them together so they work for me and don't really feel like "work." 


  • Not yet.

    OK, I will try not to let 24 hours go by without a blog post until the baby's born.  

    I started writing one today (about writing report cards) but it's still in "draft" stage and I'm too tired to finish it now.  Maybe tomorrow.  

    I am also planning to do a post with my reading list for our 18-week literature-based Civil War study.  Now that we've finished it and I know what we can realistically accomplish.

    But it's bedtime now.  So.  No baby yet.  I continue to have labor-type contractions now and again, no more than two or three in a row.   I have made my peace with them and am not discouraged at the moment.  Instead I am

    • Counting my blessings, 
    • enjoying a few last days of relative calm, 
    • trying to keep the house clean, 
    • wondering when I am going to find time to make a few rice bags as I can't find my old ones and am all out of rice, 
    • psyching myself up for a posterior labor,
    • eating lots of iron-rich food (well, lots of food in general),
    • trying to train Mary Jane to sit in a different spot in the van and sleep in a different spot in the bed,
    • and counting those blessings again.

    Stick around…


  • A take on texting charity.

    Ann Althouse has this to say, and frankly I think it's a good point.

    $5 and $10 donations are easy to make, and they really add up. It's a terrific way to include vastly more donors….Text the word "HAITI" to 90999 to donate $10 to the American Red Cross. And get on with your life!

    Now, maybe you think charity should involve more reflection and attention to the object of charity. Maybe you think charitable donors should feel that they are giving something up for the sake of the less fortunate and be personally transformed by the act of giving….

    Jesus said: "But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing." So do not let your left thumb know what your right thumb is doing. Text some charity and don't make any kind of deal out of it. Don't even let yourself think that you have done anything. There is good in that, and it's a good instantly achieved by everyone with a cell phone. You're only giving $5 or $10, so there isn't even anything to congratulate yourself about. When everyone just does this, without thinking, the charities get millions, and we have no reason to get puffed up about about our benevolence.

    Discuss.


  • False alarm.

    Last night we put our birth team on alert.  I'd spent a couple of hours that afternoon mopping the floors, always an ominous behavior in the nine-months-pregnant.   Around 8:30 p.m. my crumb-sweeping was interrupted by a truly awesome contraction, the likes of which I don't remember ever having had before.  It wasn't painful exactly but WOW was it powerful, as if someone had wrapped a wide rubber belt around my waist, just above the bump, and then pulled me down by it with all their might.  I had the distinct sensation of my whole body being pulled down, to the point where it actually felt as if my legs were supporting extra weight and might buckle. 

     It was very, very weird.   I found it difficult to breathe normally.  And the sensation continued for nearly ten minutes, and only released gradually, leaving me breathless and even a little bit frightened.  It wasn't something I remembered happening in any of my previous labors.  I was worried that it might be what precipitous labor feels like (because how the heck else does someone dilate and give birth in one or two hours?)

     A couple more of those over the next hour and we called our friends and our midwives and let them know.  It was nice to find out that the midwife who lives close was at home and not planning to go anywhere that evening.  

    We decided not to alert the kids, who'd been sent downstairs to watch a movie because we planned to finish watching a borrowed DVD that night.  But we spent a couple of hours putting away the accumulated laundry, clearing off the top of the desk in the upstairs office, and clearing the bookshelf next to the bed to make room for supplies.  (I was having trouble staying calm until I realized I had some preparations I could make, and once I started working, I felt instantly more centered in myself and ready to face labor.)  

    I kept having those powerful contractions every 20 minutes, interspersed with various other signs that indicated we'd better at least take this possibility seriously.  I hovered and paced anxiously while the kids had bedtime snack and brushed their teeth, and when the boys were in bed and Mark and I lay down with MJ to put her to sleep, I fell asleep myself, and that was that.

    I woke up a couple of times with a strong contraction in the middle of the night, and several more times from the baby's tossing and turning inside me, but that was all.  Oh, except for the really fun thing where I was going to get up and go to the bathroom, so I pushed myself up from lying on my side to sitting up, and during the few seconds of sitting while I gathered my strength to stand, something in my pelvis sheared past something else in my pelvis and clicked into place with a grinding thump that I could actually hear.   Ewwwww!  It makes me cringe just thinking of that sound.  It will probably give me nightmares.

    Around 8:15 AM Mark woke up:  "No baby yet, huh?"

    "Yeah.  I would have let you know if the baby showed up."

    "I looked over and noticed that there wasn't one here yet, so I went back to sleep."

    I grumbled as I got up and found myself getting ready for the same old Saturday things, the going out to breakfast, the packing up of school planning materials to work on in the coffee shop.  I would see if I could walk in to the salon and get a haircut today.  Mark would take the kids to swimming lessons and then to the grocery store.  All that normal stuff.  And probably Monday would come same as always, and we'd start a new week.  I had for a few hours begun to look forward to a suspension of normal activity, a sort of holiday or special occasion, and it had dissipated and only normal life was left.

    My van wouldn't start this morning, though, so now I have something different to be annoyed about, at least for 2-3 hours while we wait for the plug-in charger to restore the battery.  I hope I can at least manage to get my hair cut today, that being one of the things to check off on the "before the baby's born" list. 


  • Cupcake games.

    For someone with a lot of time on their hands.  How many can you identify?


  • Ben, the olfactory-personality synaesthete?

    A story Hannah told me I could blog about her 10-year-old son Ben.

    They were driving to our house yesterday when Ben, after cautioning Hannah that he wasn't sure he should speak of such things, commented, "When I think of certain families, I think of the smell that family has."

    Hannah was curious about what he meant.

    "Well, for example, when I think of Erin's family [that's us, folks]  I can smell poop."  He quickly added, "But I don't mind the smell of poop, because I like them."

    Hannah inquired as to whether their own family had a characteristic scent.

    "Yes.  Our family smells like vomit."

    Hannah, perplexed, asked what Melissa's family smelled like.

    "Oh, they smell like vanilla."


  • Guess the date and weight.

    Jamie suggested I distract myself from the Detach-o-Pelvis by running the traditional date/time/weight guessing game in my combox.

    Relevant data for Jamie to run through her statistical analysis programs:

    • 3 out of 3 labors began on Monday.  But 2 out of 3 births were on Tuesday.
    • Birth times:  around 3 PM, around 3 AM, around 4 PM.
    • Oscar was 10 lb, 11 oz at birth.  Milo was 9 lb, 4 oz.  MJ was 9 lb even.
    • Oscar was born 4 days past due.  Milo, 10 days early.  MJ, 1 day early.  
    • Due date (by LMP because of neglectful charting) is 1/28, though I have been measuring a week "older."

    You are also welcome to guess what we are going to name the baby, who (according to the ultrasound technician) has a penis.  Also whether he turns out to be left-handed like his dad, mom, brothers, and sister.


  • Nursery rhyme.

    There once was a lass from Nantucket,

    Who was sure her hips were going to break into four pieces any day now and she would die,

    Or maybe not for the next 2 to 3 weeks.

    (F*$# it.)


  • Tipping point.

    I think I've finally passed over a key milestone, as of yesterday.  Before, when I thought to myself, "Would today be an okay day to go into labor?" the answer was "NO NO NO NO NO."  Now it's more like, "Yeah, that'd be all right, I could do that."

    As time passes, experience has taught me, it will probably change to "OH PLEASE LET IT BE TODAY" before it morphs to "I'm never going to have this baby.  I will be the first woman in history to be pregnant for the rest of her life."  

    Thus sets in the denial necessary to insist  "Don't call anyone [PAUSE AND BREATHE] yet, it's probably not going to [PAUSE AND BREATHE] turn into anything [PAUSE AND BREATHE]."  A prerequisite to giving birth, I am firmly convinced.


  • Sweet potato mole with a bit of sausage.

    Recently there've been a slew of cookbooks out with the "light on the meat" theme:  recipes that work with or without meat, or with a smaller amount of it.   This meshes pretty well with our family's recent culinary history, at least before my pregnancy, and since that's not going to last forever I decided to start thinking about getting back on track with that again.  I checked a bunch of cookbooks out of the library this week, hoping to find a new gem. 

    Tonight I made a variation on Sweet Potato Chorizo Mole, from Almost Meatless by Manning and Mataraza-Desmond.  It was really good, and low in common allergens to boot (no gluten or eggs; there is cheese, but I honestly thought it would be pretty good even without the cheese, or with a substitute.)  I divided  the casserole in half, one for the table and one for the freezer, another habit I need to get back into after the baby.  Worked fine, maybe because two of three kids wouldn't eat it.  Too bad, the grownups loved it, and we will see it on our table again.

    Here's my version (full casserole size in a 9×13 pan)

    • 3-4 oz bulk pork sausage (recipe called for chorizo which I didn't have)
    • 1 very small onion, diced small
    • 1 small minced chipotle in adobo sauce (compensating for lack of chorizo)
    • 3 cloves garlic, minced (recipe called for 2, still compensating for lack of chorizo)
    • 1 tsp dried oregano
    • 1 – 28oz can whole peeled tomatoes, juices strained and reserved, tomatoes chopped coarsely
    • 1 Tbsp cumin
    • 1 Tbsp chile powder
    • 1 ounce Ghirardelli 60% cocoa bittersweet chocolate chips (a kitchen staple!)
    • 1 cup frozen corn kernels
    • 1 fifteen ounce can black beans, rinsed and drained
    • 2/3 c water
    • 2 orange sweet potatoes, 1 and 1/2 lbs total, sliced into 1/8" disks
    • Several handfuls shredded mild cheddar cheese (recipe calls for 8 oz)
    • Cilantro for garnish

    Preheat oven to 375 F and spray 9×13 pan with cooking spray.

    Crumble the sausage into a skillet (add oil if necessary) and brown with the onion, 5-7 min.  Add garlic and oregano and chipotle pepper and cook a bit longer.  Deglaze pan with tomato juice.  Add tomatoes, cumin, chile powder, chocolate, corn, and beans.  Simmer and stir 10 min.  Add water.  Taste and correct seasoning with salt and black pepper.  There's your sauce.

    In the casserole, layer 1/3 of the sweet potatoes, half the sauce, and a third of the cheese.  Repeat layers, ending with remaining sweet potatoes.  Reserve last third of the cheese.  Cover tightly with foil (pressing foil down on top of sweet potatoes) and bake 1 and 1/2 hours until sweet potatoes are tender.  Remove foil and top with cheese; bake uncovered for 10 min.  Remove from oven and let rest 10 min before serving, sprinkled with chopped cilantro.

    We had this with a simple green salad.  I think it tasted great, sweet and spicy both, and it could also have been served (with extra water or broth) as a stew or chili, the sweet potatoes diced and simmered in the sauce base and the cheese passed at the table as a topping.  Maybe a good crock-pot type meal.