13

People always say that 13 is an unlucky number. I, in fact, have always thought the opposite since I was born on the 13th of June and I turned out great. And, as I may have mentioned before, I live a charmed life. I can't help it.

Well, today is January thirteenth. It marks a couple things. One, I am now officially 5 months away from my 30th birthday. Zoiks! And even sooner, I am 4 months away from my estimated due date! Sounds like a long time, but after teaching for 8 years, I know that the spring semester always seems to fly by.

I spent most of the day on my feet helping helpless 8th graders (my 7th graders weren't so needy, interestingly enough) follow pre-printed directions, which I pain-stakingly put together so that they wouldn't ask so many questions (why do I even bother?) as they worked on the computers. Really. I was tired of 8th graders today. And at the end of the day, I thought, gee, I haven't felt her move yet today (she still doesn't have a name, so she only gets feminine pronouns). But, as soon as I got home from school and tutoring and sat still for one moment, there she was... She's very perceptive, I can tell. Or maybe she was moving all along, but I was just too harried to notice.

Tutoring tonight was pretty awful. The textbook that MW is using tells theories and basics on how to work the trig problems, but doesn't give nearly enough opportunity to PRACTICE applying the theorems and solving sample problems. It drives me crazy! I'm about to go out and buy another trig book just to figure out what the heck is going on (I bought the same one MW has so that I can help her muddle through the madness). Today, I felt like trig was a foreign language. I wasn't very much help, but to my credit, neither was the book, or her semester-long substitute teacher (per MW). I'm thinking I may not accept payment for the disaster that was today.

In other news, I'm about two or three chapters away from finishing this book that I got from Mom, The Saving Graces, by Patricia Gaffney. I've muddled through it, but the story line is depressing. Talk about an existentialist, dreary storyline. I guess it doesn't help that it's about middle-aged women in the midst of life crises. I will say, however, that it was more readable than Little Women, which is why I still haven't finished that book. I know! I really need to finish that classic just to get it over with and quit complaining.

Well, happy four months until Baby Beaver is due. She'll probably come late. Or early. But probably not on the 13th. I'd settle for any day, but preferably a prime number. :)