So it’s a good thing one of those New Years Resolutions wasn’t “update blog more.” I was privately intending it, but the next day our neighbors unexpectedly moved (Yay! We don’t have to hear them fight anymore!) and the internet was suddenly cut off. It was still break, and I was unwilling to come up to campus to update due to continued pregnancy sickness, so I just put it off a bit longer.

We now have internet in our house, but the router we borrowed from Youngest SIL isn’t working, so we’re going to get a new one. This means that we have to sit at our kitchen table to get online. With the state of my stomach, I currently don’t think much of sitting on anything upright, much less hard, for a second longer than I have to. As a result I have been largely offline for the past few weeks. I’ve also read nearly nine books. I’m pretty happy with the tradeoff.

But personal goals should still be addressed, and I want to have a personal record for my children. So here I am. And here’s a few life updates for you.

Pregnancy.
Yup, there’s still a little baby parasite in there. Still sick. As in, I am. Not Baby. Everybody tells me my being sick is an indication that Baby is ok. Which does a surprising amount to make me feel better, even with my inner cynic honed to a point at the moment. I vacillate between telling people I’m “better” than before because it’s what they want to hear and explaining at length how I’m different sick but still unwell in an attempt to prevent future questions as to my well-being from all those who don’t really want to hear me whine. In my head I’m trying to avoid complaining about being sick to myself (which of course makes it worse). I usually avoid complaining during the day when I’m busy (or reading), but at night this resolution generally weakens until I have spent some time recounting how woe-ful my life is to myself. If it’s private it’s ok to complain, right? Pitiful has been a word routinely used to describe me throughout my life.

I’ve also started wearing some maternity pants I bought in California, even though I’m not showing yet (unless I’m bloated, then I look like I’m showing), because they don’t have any Dreaded Waistbands. I now have pants that I can bear to wear. Glory be.

In the meantime, Oldest SIL and I have concocted a plan wherein I offer sacrifice to the Pregnancy Gods and she assassinates them, to see if one method will make me feel better. I think it will be a success. Fighting the gods has never turned out badly for anyone.

School.
It started again two weeks ago. This semester looks as challenging as the last one did. I’m in my senior capstone class the semester. The bright side is that we’re required to re-use a paper, and mine was well written enough that I anticipate re-using 80% of the paper and just expanding the thesis and research.

Oh, and I don’t think I’ve mentioned this in this forum, but last semester was in many ways the hardest semester I’ve had at college. The hardest class load I’d ever taken, I struggled with depression for the entire first half of the semester, and then got pregnant and sick for the end bit. By some miracle, by the grace of God, I got straight A’s last semester. That is the first time in my college career that I have gotten straight A’s; and these are real A’s, not a single A- to mar my little semester record. I’m simultaneously floored and moderately irritated at this. I gave up last semester! I gave up all my stress and accepted getting B’s and possibly even a C in a class I missed assignments in and was utterly ambivalent about. I was sick! Pregnant! What about all those other semesters I put extra hours into classes to pull up A-‘s and B’s? Why couldn’t it have worked the semesters I cared and worked at?

Kyle holds this all as proof I should worry less. I maintain that it is proof that God is good and, when it is right and we try hard, sometimes helps to keep us from failing.

I don’t anticipate this being repeated this semester, but I am grateful it happened last semester.

Work.
I got another Undergraduate Research Award from the Chemistry department. If you qualify for the Fall URA, you pretty much just have to demonstrate progress and they will extend funding into winter, but it’s still neat to get it renewed. I also get paid more this way. Which might not look as good on a resume as the URA, but hey, it makes me feel better. It also makes Kyle despair of ever making more money than I do. I tell him if he’d taken science classes and been employed by a department with money he, too, could make bank at a student job. (“Make bank” here being a code phrase for “make more than you” as opposed to “making bundles and bundles of moolah.”)

In the meantime, my professor is officially 15 minutes late for class. Which, by university policy means that I can leave. So I’m going to go home and take a nap.

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