tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34746874305234932452024-02-18T22:30:14.494-08:00Diary of a thirty something pregnant teacher Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-20511544163210983642016-10-01T11:36:00.000-07:002016-10-01T11:36:24.525-07:00Mummy and Thomas to review baby milkHow exciting.<br />
<br />
Thomas and I (well technically Thomas) has been asked to review the new SMA pro follow on milk. And we've been given a box of free goodies as part of the process. Watch this space.<br />
<br />
Oh and fellow mummy friends. I need your help too. I need to ask you some questions so please get in touch if you're willing to help out.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-62622849492110676282016-09-08T03:43:00.001-07:002016-09-08T06:21:56.126-07:00Why does it feel weird to be off work?<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">It's the same old story in life. Well at least I think it is anyway. </span></div><div>We always want what we don't have. Well I guess I do. What about you dear reader?</div><div><br></div><div>I'd wanted a baby for so long. All my close friends had one (or even two) even my cousin (who swore blind that she'd never have a baby got pregnant the Christmas before I did) and I wanted it even more. </div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Now Thomas is here I still can't quite believe it. In fact I need to pinch myself most of the time to remind myself that Its not a dream. He is mine. We created him and my life has and will never be the same again. What a brilliant and yet scary statement that is. What I've always wanted has finally come into fruition and yet. It feels weird. Surely this can't be this easy? He's here. My job is now to look after him. Do everything for him. Full time. Day in. Day out. Well until I return to work. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">When i was pregnant I couldn't wait for these days. The lie ins (well one can live in hope), the day trips, the baby clubs.. And again now it's here. I'm loving it. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">But..</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">But.. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">And I can't actually believe I'm writing this. Part of me misses being at work. Yes. There we go I said it. Part of me is missing the routine, the feel and buzz of being in the classroom, of having some normal work related conversation with my colleagues about the latest thing we've been asked to implement by up above.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Part of me feels guilty for taking each day as it comes, for doing as I please, for shopping, socialising and spending time doing what I want and not following a set timetable. I can go to the loo when I want, eat what I want when I want and don't have to endure the daily feeling of never quite being good enough at my job despite the fact that I have lots of very happy parents and students of my own. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So why am I wanting what others have? God knows. I guess it's human nature. But what I do know is this is a </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">pure example of how today (and I'm hopeful that it's just going to be for today). That I want what the majority of the working population has. To be at work. I'm sure it will pass and that this feeling is just a temporary thing. In the meantime I need to snap out of it and focus on today. Thomas. And making every moment count because I know one thing for sure. This time won't last forever. There will always be time to work, there will never a chance to get this time back again. And that is something I do have. Not everyone can have children. For some women their job is their child. Not for me. I have what I want and I wouldn't change it for the world. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-91216606435423775602016-08-20T06:15:00.001-07:002016-08-20T06:28:13.453-07:00The importance of treasuring every minuteSo here we are. Six months in. And what a whirlwind it has been. <div><br><div>When I started writing this blog I planned to document every step of my pregnancy and then thought I would do the same after the birth. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">But no.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> Something happened. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> Life happened.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> A new life.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> A life myself and the love of my life had created. Thomas was here. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The baby I'd wanted for years was finally here. I was elated. Overjoyed. And then it became more and more important to treasure every moment with him. In the actual moment rather than blogging and writing about it as it happened. I made the conscious decision to enjoy each day and each moment by living in the lovely moment and then to maybe.. Just maybe.. document</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> all my memories at a later date which is what I'm going to do. </span></div></div><div><br></div><div>So dear reader, keep an eye out for my future posts which will cover everything from the labour, pre eclampsia, dehydration, sleepless nights, not so sleepless nights and a lot more besides. </div><div><br></div><div>But in the meantime, for all my fellow mummies out there (who I'm sure I can relate to this), I'm just going to spend today, Saturday the 20th of August 2016. the six month of my first baby boy's life just treasuring it. And him, As we drive down to Essex to see the in laws and maybe (ok it's going to happen) slightly reminisce about the fact that this time six months and a day ago. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>He wasn't here. </div><div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBGjRlFxlj1s1rfJy3ODhHDRG02Z4GlHddjv3SuP9wC75ytkV1fk96mm4-kpH8EWtcFesJby6a5YPtPG31Loeq_ojM-E7AcUxkGgvtwspxkq5o4ttwP1UzHw7oBAl_ekNEd_KNgB52X64/s640/blogger-image--1737152654.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBGjRlFxlj1s1rfJy3ODhHDRG02Z4GlHddjv3SuP9wC75ytkV1fk96mm4-kpH8EWtcFesJby6a5YPtPG31Loeq_ojM-E7AcUxkGgvtwspxkq5o4ttwP1UzHw7oBAl_ekNEd_KNgB52X64/s640/blogger-image--1737152654.jpg"></a></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-35372580106443909702016-04-08T16:37:00.001-07:002016-04-08T16:37:13.600-07:00Apologies dear readerThe last seven weeks (yes he's been here for seven weeks already) have been an absolute whirlwind which is why I haven't posted. But I will be back. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-71719005240945191602016-02-15T07:41:00.001-08:002016-02-15T07:55:25.179-08:00The waiting gameSo here I am. Sat on the sofa with a hot water bottle on my back at 41 weeks and one day pregnant. Wow. I never thought I'd make it to this stage let alone with Thomas still inside me but alas here I am. And as my mother in law keeps reminding me - babies have their own timetable! <div><br></div><div>It's such a strange feeling knowing that you are so close to meeting the child that you created with the love of your life and yet still so far away. Will it be tonight? I wonder... Or tomorrow? The honest question is who knows? And the honest answer is nobody. Apart from little fella himself.</div><div><br></div><div>Having said all of this though it's not all been calm on the Western front. I genuinely thought I was going into labour on Saturday night when i came out of my lovely relaxing bath to constant shooting pains up my back and what I can only describe as furious kicking by the now not so little fella. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirRy5j1iMUNsjf_lDPLJOo-ByIkyAor83mJWDgj_M-ITtUip763zbI8J8IcHNsxm_9kO3Lfjtv4DlOrfhaJ_ubIJe68XcnYCoRoW6kJvh4lCoAMwv9zoDtXGuEfXC7cAkkqHAwZlYqAi8/s640/blogger-image-1120683343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirRy5j1iMUNsjf_lDPLJOo-ByIkyAor83mJWDgj_M-ITtUip763zbI8J8IcHNsxm_9kO3Lfjtv4DlOrfhaJ_ubIJe68XcnYCoRoW6kJvh4lCoAMwv9zoDtXGuEfXC7cAkkqHAwZlYqAi8/s640/blogger-image-1120683343.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Being a modern woman I quickly downloaded a contractions app from the App Store and started to time the rather painful contractions. I kept the timer going for 45 minutes and when the "go to hospital now" warning came up on the screen I did feel a slight urge to panic. </div><div><br></div><div>And then it all went quiet.</div><div><br></div><div>No we didn't turn the TV off or suddenly turn mute. It all went quiet on the pain and contractions front. It stopped. I felt great again. Had a piece of toast and managed to get a really good nights sleep. Such a strange experience. To go through all of that pain in such a short space of time. To build yourself up for the real thing. And then nothing. I can honestly say I've never experienced anything like it in my entire life. And am scared about it happening again.</div><div><br></div><div>So back to today. Or indeed this week. I am keeping busy and trying my best to take my mind off things. Had a lovely lunch out with my mum and Paige and I'm about to do some teaching. Oh yes dear reader. Once a teacher; always a teacher. And just because I'm on maternity leave it doesn't mean that I am going to stop.</div><div><br></div><div>I'm going to the hospital on Wednesday morning to be monitored by the fetal assessment team and then to have a membrane sweep (nice) and then if that doesn't bring on labour (eeek). I will be back in on Friday to be induced. </div><div><br></div><div>So as much as you can try to plan and predict and guess and hope and wonder nobody really knows when baby is ready to come out by himself (perhaps he's just a little bit too comfy in there) - but one thing is for sure however it happens (naturally or with a little help from a pessary) - he will be here by the end of the week whether we are ready for him or not. </div><div><br></div><div>And that is both an amazing and very scary thing! </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-31616809683591272972016-01-30T14:01:00.001-08:002016-01-30T14:05:27.090-08:00Eight days to go or is it nine? Ten?Wow.<div><br></div><div>This time next week (if it's meant to be) I will be welcoming my first child into the world.</div><div><br></div><div>I can't believe that after all the planning. Sickness. Tooth loss and sinusitis that in less than a week (hopefully) I'm going to meet my little man.</div><div><br></div><div>Or maybe not. He could be late. Or he could be early. The community midwife told me that if he's ten days overdue then I will be induced so that will mean he will be delivered on the 17th. But if he's early that could mean he could come at anytime: day or night between now and the 7th.</div><div><br></div><div>So what is a girl to do? The hospital bag is packed. The cleaning has been done. All I can do now is sit and play the waiting game because no matter how much I will him to come out on his due date it won't make any difference. When he's ready to come out he will come out. He will do his own thing. In his own time. Just like someone else I know... Me! </div><div><br></div><div>In the meantime - place your bets. Will he be early or late? </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUdurOl3vLCu8BnH7fSJW9WQiM2UNl27XvEe_zGWA17VwShVWlmm1jGa6UvuSlP4YXssapJT1I2TWMDDqceEtw0BCRHgngZ-A1_FR3SM-Y4VcAuvE7oEAlhCAo_DWX3sdbsDHa9In2s0/s640/blogger-image--1444249107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUdurOl3vLCu8BnH7fSJW9WQiM2UNl27XvEe_zGWA17VwShVWlmm1jGa6UvuSlP4YXssapJT1I2TWMDDqceEtw0BCRHgngZ-A1_FR3SM-Y4VcAuvE7oEAlhCAo_DWX3sdbsDHa9In2s0/s640/blogger-image--1444249107.jpg"></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-16792013665222266832016-01-21T03:32:00.001-08:002016-01-21T03:43:10.427-08:00What exactly do you pack in your hospital bag?Make sure you pack your hospital bag by 36 weeks is the advice I was given when I went to a recent Parent Craft class. Ok. Will do. But what exactly do you pack or more importantly how on earth do you manage to get everything you need together? After all no one knows how long you will be in hospital for. Plus the fact if you know me then you'll know I never exactly travel light.<div><br></div><div>Thankfully I was also provided with a list of suggested items to bring in (see list below) and have so far managed to get quite a bit of these items together. </div><div><br></div><div>However, when it states "clothing for baby" what on earth are you meant to bring then? Ok if it's cold you'd bring something warm to wrap him in and if it's warm you'd bring the opposite but how on earth are you meant to know what size he will be? Or his weight? The last thing I'd want is to be told off my the midwives for dressing him in an outfit that's too small or too big. </div><div><br></div><div>So what do you do? Any mums out there with any advice please feel free to share.</div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoyj6TWALQBOtQXRV9907KGXlZ85QDKSNQErt73dsDGpQU0J63l_TjCHlLA4lPUraA0uUfeRhNqULQWWXbSJFv0k9RXWA7QRAdmQr_-_d3NmyaHjv8fEW_4FXAOd3pFKCd3Ua4Ywqg7zc/s640/blogger-image--370823456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoyj6TWALQBOtQXRV9907KGXlZ85QDKSNQErt73dsDGpQU0J63l_TjCHlLA4lPUraA0uUfeRhNqULQWWXbSJFv0k9RXWA7QRAdmQr_-_d3NmyaHjv8fEW_4FXAOd3pFKCd3Ua4Ywqg7zc/s640/blogger-image--370823456.jpg"></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-66334168061986607432016-01-18T04:57:00.001-08:002016-01-18T05:00:51.092-08:00Hit me like a ray of son...It's amazing what hits you and at what time in your pregnancy.<div><br></div><div>I'm just walking to the train station to get the train to the hospital for a fetal growth scan when it occurs to me that I won't actually be doing this for much longer. </div><div><br></div><div>No silly. I don't mean I won't ever be getting the train again. Or indeed walking! I mean that in less than a month (or indeed whenever little fella decides to show his face) we will never be parted.</div><div><br></div><div>Well I wouldn't say never. Ever. But for quite a long time we will be doing everything together. He will always be with me. Whether it's train journeys.. Toilet trips or even just chilling in the living room one thing is for sure I will never be alone again. And that's a scary and exciting thought -especially for a fiercely independent mum to be. </div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxIglQZ-PnhNAekqSFRXUhcGu5aYq52ZhW-iEh_mw4B2w3CepYy1xKtXUamBxiWSQHaTpT4UoVVFHkDtA9ug-u7vjsQv5eBykpuS-vwTB-4JB8JscnK2pLHOOqhIQ1t-qlrBeAJ9h_BGU/s640/blogger-image-1896395728.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxIglQZ-PnhNAekqSFRXUhcGu5aYq52ZhW-iEh_mw4B2w3CepYy1xKtXUamBxiWSQHaTpT4UoVVFHkDtA9ug-u7vjsQv5eBykpuS-vwTB-4JB8JscnK2pLHOOqhIQ1t-qlrBeAJ9h_BGU/s640/blogger-image-1896395728.jpg"></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-7086360115263287342016-01-07T13:30:00.001-08:002016-01-07T14:19:36.408-08:00To breast feed or to not breast feed that is the question..One of the things that I've had to come to terms with since being pregnant is the constant advice and suggestions that I'm given.. And the topic of breast feeding is by no means no exception. Said questions include;<div><div><br></div><div>Will you be using a manual or electric breast pump? </div><div><br></div><div>Will you give it a go? After all breast is best..</div><div><br></div><div>And so on and so on. </div><div><br></div><div>So to help me on my way to making a decision I thought I'd outline the pros and cons of breast vs bottle after reading the two booklets I was given by the health visitor on her recent visit; off to the best start and guide to bottle feeding.</div><div><br></div><div>Here goes; </div><div><br></div><div>Breastfeeding pros;</div><div>Lowers the risk of mum getting breast or ovarian cancer </div><div>Helps you and baby to get closer - physically and emotionally </div><div>Naturally uses up to 500 extra calories a day - surely this is the biggest selling point </div><div>And the one I like most of all - it's free!</div><div><br></div><div>And the cons (for baby): (interesting to note that no cons for mum are mentioned. Now I wonder why that is).</div><div><br></div><div>Diarrhoea and vomiting </div><div>Chest infections</div><div>Ear infections </div><div>Being fussy about new foods </div><div>Being constipated </div><div>Being obese </div><div>Developing eczema</div><div><br></div><div>Wow! Now if the cons aren't enough to encourage me to get my boobs out and to feed Thomas as soon as I can then what is? </div><div><br></div><div>Well - not being able to of course. What if I can't actually express milk? For those of you who don't know what "expressing milk" it's squeezing milk out of your breast.</div><div><br></div><div>And how on earth do I make sure that baby is properly attached to my breast? </div><div><br></div><div>Well apparently there's nothing to worry about as there's plenty of help and support out there but. And this is a huge but.. What if I can't actually do it? What if baby can't or won't latch on? What if? What if??</div><div><br></div><div>Ah what if I decided to bottle feed? Ah yes now there's another option to consider...</div><div><br></div><div>So I flip over to page one of the "guide to bottle feeding" booklet to look for the pros and cons of bottle feeding. Nope. Can't find any. None at all. All this booklet does is help you to understand how to bottle feed your baby safely. </div><div><br></div><div>In all fairness it's very visual - especially the step by step guide to preparing a powdered feed section but as a soon to be first time mum I'd like to know what the benefits are especially as I'm the kind of person who likes to do her research on things like this.</div><div><br></div><div>Ah. Wait. Nope. Nothing. </div><div><br></div><div>Interesting to note that a con is mentioned on page 13 - "making up a feed with too much powder can make your baby sick and may cause dehydration."</div><div><br></div><div>But still no pros. Just some information on the steps you need to follow should you wish to restart breastfeeding. Re-start? I'm still yet to decide. Arrgghj! What to do?</div><div><br></div><div>I know. I will let baby decide. If he wants to and can latch on I will feed him the natural way and if he can't or it's too painful then I will go straight for the bottle.. And after trying to digest all of this information I've been given I'm not just talking about the Tommee Tippee bottles either. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6iHWO8Zx2HNkkTDi88Kdb1M19XasE4cviByurvllrbYr_avr1L2m84Lhh9t5zmzv144PE0DK37sb_pjCjhLOFHqcj-301m-9MVQWxNXr1kZ08wdCYhSIA0Bbh5h6Nlr-bGPrFFeMUys/s640/blogger-image-1077271046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6iHWO8Zx2HNkkTDi88Kdb1M19XasE4cviByurvllrbYr_avr1L2m84Lhh9t5zmzv144PE0DK37sb_pjCjhLOFHqcj-301m-9MVQWxNXr1kZ08wdCYhSIA0Bbh5h6Nlr-bGPrFFeMUys/s640/blogger-image-1077271046.jpg"></a></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-63207103772163998352015-10-17T11:25:00.001-07:002015-10-17T11:25:26.099-07:00Let the non alcoholic cider see the glassI'm not really a big drinker. Well not anymore. Back in my uni days I could consume a bottle of hock in a night. A week night that is - we hardly ever had the time, energy or the money to go out at the weekend but boy did we make up for it during the week. <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNc6SyA9zh72p5ywjlwlhoBDuvNhP-nIKpKweBrws8BWlrNp0-YD4itrQiV0CYRVbquzQKqtBOVbxeAAM_QVrl3T5NtCTPjPwvwRSnagh9Epr1s-TBVKQVq9MJciW6O-02-LAqIgx8BVY/s640/blogger-image--532266444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNc6SyA9zh72p5ywjlwlhoBDuvNhP-nIKpKweBrws8BWlrNp0-YD4itrQiV0CYRVbquzQKqtBOVbxeAAM_QVrl3T5NtCTPjPwvwRSnagh9Epr1s-TBVKQVq9MJciW6O-02-LAqIgx8BVY/s640/blogger-image--532266444.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Fast forward to twelve months ago when I would go out at least once a month and get pretty trollied. A typical binge drinker is how I used to describe myself. I've never been the kind of person to go out religiously every Friday or Saturday and then be so excited at the prospect of finally going out that I'd drink as much as I could in the one night. Mix my drinks (which has never done me any favours) and then spend the rest of the day in bed recovering. </div><div><br></div><div>Long gone are those days. As soon as I found out I was pregnant I stopped drinking altogether and bar one beer on out all inclusive holiday in August I've stuck to it. And am pretty bloody proud of myself. </div><div><br></div><div>So imagine my delight after a week that's been filed with deadlines, report writing and antibiotics - when I spotted the non alcoholic version of my favourite cider in the local Tesco! I was like a kid in a sweet shop. I could have a drink. I could feel like I wasn't missing out. I could savour the taste of strawberry and lime without feeling guilty!</div><div><br></div><div>And the best thing of all? No hangover in the morning. Thank you Koppaberg Brewery. You've made this thirty something pregnant teacher very happy this evening. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-78086723357057108512015-10-07T12:45:00.001-07:002015-10-07T13:01:09.291-07:00Tummy trouble<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEsMe6gO7ENzkJYOruyBxuzCRf-zDo9AXlr6fnD3t0ETb9AqrJ7gtIAmpriX5020shyphenhyphenv3wXAIgorowNUotJ_mO6BrD_99pj_dtmuQ33pk222FWoQOLkzBA_S__gLwyt4ZLEAz6dAR5ClU/s640/blogger-image-1311892769.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEsMe6gO7ENzkJYOruyBxuzCRf-zDo9AXlr6fnD3t0ETb9AqrJ7gtIAmpriX5020shyphenhyphenv3wXAIgorowNUotJ_mO6BrD_99pj_dtmuQ33pk222FWoQOLkzBA_S__gLwyt4ZLEAz6dAR5ClU/s640/blogger-image-1311892769.jpg"></a></div>So the sonographer was finally able to take a photograph of baby T today and more importantly check his heart beat. <div><br></div><div>Although I didn't think that she would be able to after the ultra sound experience today started off exactly the same as the one a couple of weeks ago - with my little cherub lying on his tummy at the start of the experience. </div><div><br></div><div>I arrived at the hospital with an hour to spare and proceeded to head straight to WH Smith to grab a huge bottle of Evian and a bar of chocolate. Why I hear you cry? Well in order to have an ultra sound in the first place you need to have a full bladder and experience has taught me that little Thomas loves chocolate - he has a sweet tooth just like his mum - and according to the sonographer who did my scan last time - the sugar should help him to turn over (if indeed he was lying on his belly). Or not in this case. </div><div><br></div><div>I made my way up in the lift to the second floor - or should I say the purple level two. Scanned my letter in - very high tech. And then ventured over to the water machine to dose myself up on even more cups of water before I went in. </div><div><br></div><div>I didn't have to wait long. I was called in. Asked to lie down and could listen to the heart beat straight away! Wow! I could hear my baby's heart beat through a machine! She then showed me the monitor and sure enough baby was lying on his back with his knees up to his chest.</div><div><br></div><div>She's checked his measurements. And did all she could do until even she admitted that she didn't know what to suggest. I then offered to go for a walk. She suggested I pop to the loo to now empty my rather full - yet not quite over flowing bladder - and whilst I'm there have a stretch. "Try to touch your toes.."</div><div><br></div><div>And low and behold it worked. Well in true Tilbury style - where nothing is ever easy - he managed to turn just enough so that she could check his heart beat - all normal and to take a picture (or three). </div><div><br></div><div>And here's the result. Phew! Happy and healthy. A lovely experience. I'm just disappointed that that's it now. No more ultra sounds (as i'm a low risk pregnancy) but lots of appointments.</div><div><div><br></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-7710760861328660312015-10-03T08:24:00.001-07:002015-10-03T08:24:43.995-07:00They say a photograph can speak a thousand words....... And if that's the case then this one sums me up 100% today.<div><br></div><div><br><div><br></div><div>Not that I'm complaining mind. I love being pregnant. I've waited so long to have my own baby that I'm delighted and grateful that it's finally happened. As there was a time when I thought it wouldn't. </div><div><br></div><div>But I am finding it hard to manage. I have a full time very demanding job. Am bringing up someone else's child and am nearly 22 weeks pregnant. So I guess it's ok to feel like the lady in the picture does every so often. Now I just have to work on realising that not only is my body changing but for the time being I can no longer do the things that I'd love to do on a weekend.</div><div><br></div><div>I know it will all be worth it in the end but today is a tough day. </div><div><br></div></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiho63Ezn0reUj6KmPDCU7ZJE0t2SrRqL3A-bcmyQgRf9fkMYkDHIbFzGLaGRjafg9IGDiH6AW5dFoRf8sCkYsPqOubU3V-lqgsJScw8tZsXRXryFoGwZs_R80bMkDpDtvU9BpGPhvT4io/s640/blogger-image-1966949598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiho63Ezn0reUj6KmPDCU7ZJE0t2SrRqL3A-bcmyQgRf9fkMYkDHIbFzGLaGRjafg9IGDiH6AW5dFoRf8sCkYsPqOubU3V-lqgsJScw8tZsXRXryFoGwZs_R80bMkDpDtvU9BpGPhvT4io/s640/blogger-image-1966949598.jpg"></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-48177484696279927312015-09-30T11:36:00.001-07:002015-09-30T11:39:40.011-07:00Project Based Learning? Or learning nothingOn a Wednesday during period two I teach a class a topic called Project Based Learning. I say the word "teach" very loosely as I am mainly there as an extra body in the room (alongside two other teachers) and to check the students literacy - that is whenever they produce a piece of written work I need to check it for spelling, grammar, punctuation and of course that it makes sense.<div><br></div><div>I say "check their work" in the most loosest of terms as well as so far this term I haven't seen any of it. Maybe it's because they don't know what to do. Maybe it's because they can't be bothered or maybe it's because the brief is so broad that they haven't got a clue where to start. </div><div><br></div><div>But there's where Project Based Learning or PBL as it's commonly known in our school is different. The fact that the brief may be broad or the fact that little work may be produced throughout the course of the process doesn't really matter as the students are meant to learn by making mistakes in Year 10 so that they don't then repeat the same mistakes in Year 11.</div><div><br></div><div>What do you think of this way of learning? </div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg41eYskWOYkcuGYYHmVdnmw2jcE9_kihmoJ6Kg0GaXRKipQmVOPJaXtr9uzxh7AlmdL9BmuUw6gCTnIaqbNuXshB3RLVEYlCHtC3UT3RNUnydUvUI_bSQIPSWq7ep_8ymFzxwJNHuyJ7g/s640/blogger-image--586881374.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg41eYskWOYkcuGYYHmVdnmw2jcE9_kihmoJ6Kg0GaXRKipQmVOPJaXtr9uzxh7AlmdL9BmuUw6gCTnIaqbNuXshB3RLVEYlCHtC3UT3RNUnydUvUI_bSQIPSWq7ep_8ymFzxwJNHuyJ7g/s640/blogger-image--586881374.jpg"></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-7654386899572486122015-09-28T13:59:00.001-07:002015-09-28T13:59:41.234-07:00I hate Monday morningsSo it's Monday yet again. Only three weeks until half term (if you don't include this one). <div><br></div><div>It still seems so far away though. Far far away as in the fictional world that Shrek and Fiona live in.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>But would it make it go faster if i started to do a countdown clock on my phone? After all I have one for my pregnancy so why not have one for half term? </div><div><br></div><div>Answers on a postcard please. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-73583790948838883672015-09-26T15:33:00.001-07:002015-09-26T15:33:30.858-07:00Don't swing on your chair... You'll crack your head openI say this all the time to that one student who you always get who pushes the boundaries and doesn't listen to a word you say.<div><br></div><div><br></div><div>It made me laugh seeing this picture but it still doesn't take away from the seriousness of the message behind it. </div><div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlIRDjAaIkkO3yyFL35qs_yo4Kcn1VhabdSfb3aDPbBQXutfhCeE1OQDOX5yM3foGOWpxiJPOXLw7XKGrdvgbhU6VMSCiMcBuJN7oz5Dj5B7fgGwfFvm-JPq8KifWUEn2x1o8OaVbnTNI/s640/blogger-image--1454850148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlIRDjAaIkkO3yyFL35qs_yo4Kcn1VhabdSfb3aDPbBQXutfhCeE1OQDOX5yM3foGOWpxiJPOXLw7XKGrdvgbhU6VMSCiMcBuJN7oz5Dj5B7fgGwfFvm-JPq8KifWUEn2x1o8OaVbnTNI/s640/blogger-image--1454850148.jpg"></a></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-35962943779246143692015-09-26T15:05:00.001-07:002015-09-26T15:05:43.110-07:00Football fan?Can't say I am but Steve is a huge West Ham fan. Even though he doesn't get to go to many matches - mainly due to the fact that they are down south and we live up north.. He does make a conscious effort to watch (or listen to) every match.<div><br></div><div>Therefore it's no surprise that he decided to buy our baby son his first football kit. How cute.</div><div><br></div><div>I couldn't help but think though. What if he grows up to hate football or is a complete rebel and decides to support a local northern team? After all it's not the law to support the same team as your dad and uncles. Is it? Or is it?</div><div><br></div><div>I personally hope he doesn't and want him to be an avid sports fan (and player). Roll on the days when his daddy can take him to watch (or play football or rugby). We can't wait. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>In the meantime. How cute is this kit? <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurwJxqw8r42TgCl23rvWMfw_yDvm3XYyYEPA0m9UtfyYIonRWFNntHyg6pgZv3FbMEvD8lueI_99it5Dj26JEGCrvqLFXNCCLHJlxHGzyao-CjOjSj81Q6Olgs7os57W6jUP2Ug3iHLg/s640/blogger-image-2036690000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurwJxqw8r42TgCl23rvWMfw_yDvm3XYyYEPA0m9UtfyYIonRWFNntHyg6pgZv3FbMEvD8lueI_99it5Dj26JEGCrvqLFXNCCLHJlxHGzyao-CjOjSj81Q6Olgs7os57W6jUP2Ug3iHLg/s640/blogger-image-2036690000.jpg"></a></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-88457041614172788422015-09-25T13:59:00.001-07:002015-09-25T14:34:11.101-07:00It's a.....Boy! <div><br></div><div>And me and the other half couldn't be happier. </div><div>After setting off to the hospital slightly later than planned today and nearly not being able to park due to a very full hospital car park. We eventually made it to the second floor of Whiston Hospital only to then have to wait another ten minutes or so before we went in for the sexing scan. </div><div><br></div><div>I felt a plethora of emotions. Excitement. Anxiety. Would everything be ok? Would I cry? Would Steve hold my hand? Would my bladder hold out until the end of the process after having drunk nearly two pints of water? (It did - just). But all of the emotions in the world cannot prepare you for when the sonographer tells you that baby is healthy. And is a boy!</div><div><br></div><div>The only thing she couldn't check was his heart (although we did get to hear his heart beat) because he was lying on his tummy throughout the whole experience. We also found out that he's very camera shy - just like his dad - and will have to go back on the 7th for another try as despite having some time out to stretch my legs and eat some chocolate - to give him the sugar boost he needed to turn round and lie on his back. He didn't! </div><div><br></div><div>Oh well. I can't wait to see him again. </div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJB-zQO3ET7bMWhCy8sDOmqKQyFLbgSB3JBDxPGPlRUhRfnkgSELd-YcLJLJeXt4c5_ljPmYP4CVJn8TkjB9Y0ufOX1fv4RCzS3pWLfTWyMWV4O9EZ7ntosv1MYpKPM8R5anu9dYvzb3I/s640/blogger-image--1766675258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJB-zQO3ET7bMWhCy8sDOmqKQyFLbgSB3JBDxPGPlRUhRfnkgSELd-YcLJLJeXt4c5_ljPmYP4CVJn8TkjB9Y0ufOX1fv4RCzS3pWLfTWyMWV4O9EZ7ntosv1MYpKPM8R5anu9dYvzb3I/s640/blogger-image--1766675258.jpg"></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-52685189153376993332015-09-25T00:13:00.001-07:002015-09-25T00:14:33.415-07:00Is it a boy? Or a girl?Well today is the day we find out. <div><br></div><div>#excited #much </div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqJCTtFl_YeXyg5QoeIEPOpwSa9aZdMtnOYIrbYMGDGyWsxzJtjV1xIR1vEfEp2dEGt_yzEG2XCvV51d9KoH9Xtq7ip-7g2G9sCmbi2PS5ecsE_I9rJ1LKhroVadjCqwqo5HsTdY-GQok/s640/blogger-image-1081439682.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqJCTtFl_YeXyg5QoeIEPOpwSa9aZdMtnOYIrbYMGDGyWsxzJtjV1xIR1vEfEp2dEGt_yzEG2XCvV51d9KoH9Xtq7ip-7g2G9sCmbi2PS5ecsE_I9rJ1LKhroVadjCqwqo5HsTdY-GQok/s640/blogger-image-1081439682.jpg"></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-30968614994800463372015-09-22T09:15:00.001-07:002015-09-22T09:23:56.371-07:00Teeth troubleI've always had a sweet tooth and when it comes to "treating myself" before I became pregnant I'd always go for the sweet option instead of the savoury one... But I never thought that having a sweet tooth would cause me to lose two teeth - yes I said two teeth -during my first pregnancy and result in me being off work with a bacterial mouth infection and having to cope with the horrible side effects of the anti biotics. <div><br></div><div>To say I'm frustrated is an understatement. I want to be in work. So far this year it's not actually that bad. I now (for the first time since working there) have a head of department who is employed by the school and not the sister school, two lovely new colleagues and there's a hell of a lot more organisation than in previous years. </div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> Some of you may think "ah don't worry about it." They can't touch you as you are off with a pregnancy related illness but it's not about that. As a teacher when you are off for a short period of time you still have to set cover work. You still have to plan what you are going to teach - even though you are not physically there - so in a way it's actually much better psychologically if you do go in no matter how you are feeling because at least you know you are (A) not letting the kids down. (B) Not putting extra stress or work into your colleagues and (C) you know that that the work you set will be done.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">But at the same time you wrestle with the fact that you are indeed entitled to be ill. No matter what you do for a living we all get ill from time to time. After all as one close friend (who is also a teacher) said to me. "You didn't ask to be ill" and how true she is. So. I'm going to continue to rest as much as I can and be bored titless by daytime TV until I feel well enough to go back in and check to see if the cover work that I did set whilst off was done, face the concerned questions from students and colleagues about where I've been and get on with the endless marking because after all there's two of us to think about now. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">And I have to look after myself and my unborn baby. </span></div><div><div><br></div><div><br></div></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixA8rT_EUqpkkdOTB4ebRvdjh61NPeiBK4rVa3t_IvvFfGTRmpVYcDtFFAkUtSbhlUPFH_Wfh82Y_EA1sho2mdHLMkPhoz5dFkVeR_fZIjcMke1K0Dc0svTljxjcBobTk7KtESw9G9e9U/s640/blogger-image--1360886557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixA8rT_EUqpkkdOTB4ebRvdjh61NPeiBK4rVa3t_IvvFfGTRmpVYcDtFFAkUtSbhlUPFH_Wfh82Y_EA1sho2mdHLMkPhoz5dFkVeR_fZIjcMke1K0Dc0svTljxjcBobTk7KtESw9G9e9U/s640/blogger-image--1360886557.jpg"></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-51363323252181750802015-09-21T12:00:00.001-07:002015-09-21T12:00:44.635-07:00I love a good bargain me...When saving up for a baby it's important that you don't spend an un necessary amount of money on frivolous purchases. Or so I'm told. <div><br></div><div>So I've been on the hunt for a good bargain and managed to snap up this chair for £5 from one of the "what's for sale" sites on Facebook. </div><div><br></div><div>Am quite happy with it. What do you think? <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh58lnqyAmPFfuuuUqZ2HxRZjybj3HsYDWLF4PFYF4OSVGsJs5aetbGbdC146U58wregNc9NulzaU7bAN99a93NWYEeZZ_7p74UWYNAxM4gloD38DbmUEQeOvNmXq6WHUVu672TPodTlUU/s640/blogger-image--348924856.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh58lnqyAmPFfuuuUqZ2HxRZjybj3HsYDWLF4PFYF4OSVGsJs5aetbGbdC146U58wregNc9NulzaU7bAN99a93NWYEeZZ_7p74UWYNAxM4gloD38DbmUEQeOvNmXq6WHUVu672TPodTlUU/s640/blogger-image--348924856.jpg"></a></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-11641417131561095022015-09-15T13:12:00.001-07:002015-09-15T13:12:15.938-07:00A poem.<div>I saw this poem today and thought it was very apt. </div><div><br></div><div>The unconquerable mountain</div><div><br></div><div>With a fervour we follow the hill path,</div><div>That leads us up, up and away, </div><div>We climb with a vigorous focus</div><div>To make higher inroads each day</div><div><br></div><div>We pass every landmark and signpost</div><div>Making notes on our journey's ascent</div><div>Not stopping to look back behind us, </div><div>Still pushing, still not quite content</div><div><br></div><div>When tiredness and fatigue pervades us, </div><div>We carry each other up hill</div><div>Looking only upwards and onwards</div><div>Ploughing sky high further still</div><div><br></div><div>Each stile we cross fades in the distance,</div><div>As our feet trudge this well trodden road</div><div>Seeking summits of success unyielding </div><div>As we struggle to carry our load</div><div><br></div><div>As we reach each peak new ones appearing</div><div>Like targets set high in the sky</div><div>That mean stopping is never an option, keep climbing, don't stop, you must try</div><div><br></div><div>To reach the unconquerable summit</div><div>And rest satisfied at its peak</div><div>To fail is to say you are worthless</div><div>To struggle to say you are weak</div><div><br></div><div>So we march to where air is like gold dust</div><div>Where our bodies are broken and bent </div><div>And our brains are a husk of exhaustion</div><div>Inspiration, motivation all spent</div><div><br></div><div>Yet still there's no spire in the distance</div><div>There's no bench upon which we can sit,</div><div>No end we can finally come to,</div><div>No place we can say "this is it"</div><div><br></div><div>This journey has taken our future,</div><div>Our past and our hopes and our dreams,</div><div>As we strove to accomplish our mission</div><div>So high up above though it seems</div><div><br></div><div> We climb up this mountain together</div><div>We struggled and still could not reach</div><div>The targets forever still moving</div><div>That will haunt you as long as you teach"</div><div><br></div><div>C. Knight 2015</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-91761329429401608342015-09-15T06:47:00.001-07:002015-09-15T06:49:44.376-07:0019 week check upWell that was a huge let down. <div><br></div><div>I have just had my 19 week follow up appointment with the midwife. And there I was... All geared up to listen to the heart beat of my unborn child and it never happened. </div><div><br></div><div>On a positive note though. All is healthy. I'm low risk when it comes to Down's syndrome. My iron levels are above average. And the pregnancy is progressing nicely. Phew!</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Now roll on the 25th when I get to find out if bump is a boy or a girl. Place your bets now.... </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>What do you think I'm having? </div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCsVGw0q2ifJfgCV4rJHo4erp5u3L4miVhPZRZRkrnwmeprDZakBAAQiocwv67CULqrLmHXGa0NGfdLfvNkqDQA_8KlLpbuwovL88aQuHjxo_YQVX29kg9IpVF61VOAuapuGDozwycoms/s640/blogger-image-30017321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCsVGw0q2ifJfgCV4rJHo4erp5u3L4miVhPZRZRkrnwmeprDZakBAAQiocwv67CULqrLmHXGa0NGfdLfvNkqDQA_8KlLpbuwovL88aQuHjxo_YQVX29kg9IpVF61VOAuapuGDozwycoms/s640/blogger-image-30017321.jpg"></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-57625193796934857582015-09-14T09:32:00.001-07:002015-09-14T09:43:27.571-07:00BleeuurrrggggggghhhOne of the main things that I am struggling to get used to now I'm pregnant is the strange aversion to the foods that I once loved.<div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Take yesterday for example. Mum made me a lovely lasagne for tea. I wolfed it down and then proceeded to puke it all up soon after. </div><div><br></div><div>A one off? I was certainly hoping. Fast forward to this morning. I thought I'd forgo my usual "safe option" of toast and be healthy and have porridge with chopped bananas on top. </div><div><br></div><div>"Yummy." Or so you'd think! Yes. Again it was. Going down. Just not coming back up to say hello ten minutes later (sorry to be so graphic but one thing you will learn as you continue to read my blogs is that I like to say things as they are). </div><div><br></div><div>So what's the solution? </div><div><br></div><div>In this mornings case I left for work minus breakfast but was able to buy some ginger nut biscuits and a small bottle of sprite on my way into work (thanks for the suggestion Lauren). And they seemed to do the trick. At least for now.</div><div><br></div><div>As for tonight's tea. Will keep you posted... <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tKnOwkj6PT3EmqZIt0k73yTPIaMkHEQrGBjRzfXQ4nI-I4iiDAYTmAahf6mhjpMzsNO35OhpStHyXSykl_I_PiMNPV4NTlJMhsfpX-5JXt98Cijw-fZvHr9W0ARK0v513J0PZioEmZ4/s640/blogger-image--310567590.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tKnOwkj6PT3EmqZIt0k73yTPIaMkHEQrGBjRzfXQ4nI-I4iiDAYTmAahf6mhjpMzsNO35OhpStHyXSykl_I_PiMNPV4NTlJMhsfpX-5JXt98Cijw-fZvHr9W0ARK0v513J0PZioEmZ4/s640/blogger-image--310567590.jpg"></a></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-3287249356683153432015-09-12T07:07:00.001-07:002015-09-13T00:20:07.657-07:00The first time you meet a new class...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIKPNkWJnZ68YlpJID7pQ60p5py9gzuDo0W86sJ_fZ34aMgKomQhtf7vPsdqQcsHpkP6bhy2e7MFFgpGLv7-Hp5rP_I2pQmeaMw81GYhl9q1n8OOOyyYWYJSf_TmimyXKFnwk8OKQjHu0/s640/blogger-image--620927192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIKPNkWJnZ68YlpJID7pQ60p5py9gzuDo0W86sJ_fZ34aMgKomQhtf7vPsdqQcsHpkP6bhy2e7MFFgpGLv7-Hp5rP_I2pQmeaMw81GYhl9q1n8OOOyyYWYJSf_TmimyXKFnwk8OKQjHu0/s640/blogger-image--620927192.jpg"></a></div>.... Can be one of the most scariest experiences of a teachers life...<div><br></div><div>Unless of course you actually take an interest in them as individuals and use the time to find out what they enjoy about your subject and what they hate! </div><div><br></div><div>When I first met my middle set of Year 10s on Friday morning I needed to do something different and so started off by asking them to write down two things that were true about themselves and two things that were a lie. Or if you prefer: fact or fiction?</div><div><br></div><div>A good idea? Well... You'd think until one of my students pointed out that the three examples I'd put on the board about myself (to demonstrate what I meant) where all actually true. </div><div><br></div><div>Damn it I thought to myself as I quietly joked with said student. How on earth did they guess their teacher was a former journalist, is pregnant and allergic to melon?! </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Anyhow like a consummate professional I carried on and actually thought it was quite an enlightening exercise. I found out that one had visited Brazil six times in the same year, another can only read off yellow paper and judging by the smile on each of their faces - all appreciated the fact that I had actually taken the time and effort to find out about them. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>The next task worked just as well. What makes English enjoyable. Here is what they came up with.... <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVu37VR9neIH74nrhxCXjipFpAPSflVsFQ55FhGgY3gSGz1_soaWxiyoIQ7c1SxKb72izj5xuUq2bO1tI0sfZImi8H4PFsrptv2gXjy4v1pZWPUXnF-PvCO04QF06HrcQRa5ivmNuD0yw/s640/blogger-image--566728668.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVu37VR9neIH74nrhxCXjipFpAPSflVsFQ55FhGgY3gSGz1_soaWxiyoIQ7c1SxKb72izj5xuUq2bO1tI0sfZImi8H4PFsrptv2gXjy4v1pZWPUXnF-PvCO04QF06HrcQRa5ivmNuD0yw/s640/blogger-image--566728668.jpg"></a></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474687430523493245.post-57406260555415582192015-09-11T09:48:00.001-07:002015-09-11T09:48:31.417-07:00Customary bump pic..Can you really believe I'm 18 weeks and 5 days pregnant? I look like I'm carrying twins or have ate all the pies... <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtVPS85ee1eU_9YZc4WVWiCJvVkeKfcoE_-otclAbfjtVmarRDirizaUxvPhLvrYEbc0AaOBfK6uyWCVhBYvcWtveO69Ayv8uahS5RcmcLd4I2coDp6Jjr7I6RmdJUFlIdxMGrkQ7ZEds/s640/blogger-image--1701103690.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtVPS85ee1eU_9YZc4WVWiCJvVkeKfcoE_-otclAbfjtVmarRDirizaUxvPhLvrYEbc0AaOBfK6uyWCVhBYvcWtveO69Ayv8uahS5RcmcLd4I2coDp6Jjr7I6RmdJUFlIdxMGrkQ7ZEds/s640/blogger-image--1701103690.jpg"></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11218841633066282174noreply@blogger.com0