I realize that I've been a little flaky in postings lately. It seems like we have so much going on I hardly have time to get any of it done, much less post about it. And then, as I'm sitting here, finally typing, I realize I have nothing to say. So, I"m going to wrack my brains and try make all the minutiae of our lives interesting.
I started back to school about three weeks ago and Conor started full time (well, two full days a week) preschool. The first several times I dropped him off were challenging for both of us. He cried when I left, I cried to see him cry. Then I left the building and forgot all about him. Ok, that's not entirely true. I spent my whole first day back to school feeling nervous and I couldn't figure out why. sure, back to school nerves and all that, but I felt like I was waiting for something. Finally, I realized, as I clutched my phone in my hand, that I was waiting for Conor's school to call. Perhaps, subconsciously, I was waiting for them to let me know that he just couldn't bear it without me and that I should just come get him.
Of course that didn't happen because of course he loved it. He's got wonderful, amazing teachers who have more patience in their little fingers than I have in my whole body. They love the kids, the kids love them and the kids love each other. I don't think there are more than 12 kids enrolled in the whole class and not all children attend on the same days. Still, there are ALWAYS 4 teachers in the room. They are always sitting at the tables or playing on the floor or reading books. I was nervous dropping him off that first day feeling like he might get lost in the shuffle, but with so many adults in the room he's always got a friendly face to turn to.
Also, I made a bubba. I was so hesitant to carry his blanket back and forth to school each day in case we left it at home or (horror of horrors!) left it at school over the weekend. So, I made a new one with some fleece and some bright gingham edging. No, its not the same, and yes, he certainly knows the difference (his teacher tells me calls it blue and not bubba) but he naps at school (ON A COT--NO BARS!!!) and I don't have to worry about the bedtime panic of not having a bubba around for sleeping.
As for me, school seems, well, different this term. Last year, I was so driven to get straight A's and I did and it felt great, but so far this year, I barely think about it. I still do the reading and still do my homework but something has changed. I think its that I've decided to put off grad school for a while. And, having the best grades to get accepted, easily, into grad school was my driving motivation.
The decision to put off grad school, and by extension my teaching career, was not an easy decision to make. But, before I go off and spend $25,000 (yikes, what a number) on education I should probably make sure I can back that education/money up with a job. And frankly, teaching, in Oregon, blows right now. The Oregonian just had a front page article on the plight of teachers. Specifically it stated that in 2009, Oregon Universities graduated 2400 new teachers and of that number, on 60 received teaching positions. Bad news. Bad, bad, bad news. Many teachers had to move out of state (hey, I hear Arizona is hiring!) and those that didn't are either working at Starbucks or subbing when they can get the jobs. The thought of spending $25,000 on an education that doesn't have the positions available to graduates, well, it turns my stomach a bit.
Another reason...frankly, we can't handle another 2+ years with me not working. And that's being generous because it assumes that I could get a job right away, which, as stated previously, there are no jobs to be had. But then that leads me to the next question...what the heck am I supposed to do? The only thing I'm really qualified for is mortgage finance and...bleck. Not going back there. And, my undergrad degree in Social Science is not exactly a specialized degree. Social Science is my major so that I can go into grad school and teaching. It really doesn't lend itself to lucrative careers. So, I don't know what I'm going to do. Any suggestions? Seriously. Obviously, if you've managed to read this far, you can see I"m conflicted.
BUT! You don't come here to hear about me, you want to know about the baby. And by baby, I mean, giant 8 year old-ish man-child. We finally succumbed to those subtle and not-so-subtle comments and cut his beautiful curls off. Truthfully, he has my hair and all that means is that its just a big crazy mess. So, we plopped in his booster, gave him some crayons and raisins, and Morgan got to work. He really did a great job and Conor looks cuter than ever. Yes, the curls are gone, but in their place a child has grown and I look at him and I"m so surprised he's not a baby. Because he really ISN'T. He's a full on kid now. But, if I sneak into his room in the middle of the night (what, you did it with your kids too, don't deny it) I can still pick him up and rock him and kiss his sweet, soft, chubby cheeks again and again and again. Man, I love that kid.
Here are his most recent stats as of 18 months:
Weight: 29.00 lbs 90%
Height: 37.5 inches 100+%
Head: 49.0 cm 75%
So, the deal is, you're supposed to take your 24 month old's height, double it and that will give you their adult height (I don't buy it though--according to my 2 year old height, I was supposed to be 5'8". yeah right). So, if Conor keeps growing at the same rate he has been for the last 6 months (2.5 inches every three months. OUCH doesn't that hurt?) he'll be 43.5 inches tall on his 2nd birthday. Double that and you get 87 inches. Divide that by 12 and you get 7.25 feet tall.
Please, God, let him stop growing.
He's awake from his nap now, so no time for pictures. I'll try to get some new ones up soon. We went to the pumpkin patch last weekend and have a couple of cute ones.