Shabot shalom? and other mysteries I'll never uncover

So Amy likes doing social things. I got invited to a bar-mitzvah (probably mangled the spelling there; Jewish coming-of-age-ceremony) by one of my students quite some while back, agreed to come, and promptly filed it away in the back of my head under the category of "if by some miracle I actually feel like it on the day of, and remember, and have clean clothes of the appropriate type, and don't have to pick my nose, yeah, sure, that'd be cool."

Unfortunately, being married to a socialite means when you accept social committments... you're actually expected to go. 

Dude. No one mentioned this in the fine print. (Okay, I lie. I've always known, but I continue to protest.)

So off we went. Lot of my students there, too. They seemed surprised to see me, and I was a bit surprised to see some of them. I guess they're a little surprised that one of their teachers feels a personal connection and commitment to them - and I guess I was a little surprised that they felt that kind of committment to each other. And let me tell you, two hours of people singing in a language you don't understand to notes they know and you don't is a gut check; you gotta like someone to wait that out. They did. We did. I'll also deny making any jokes in my wife's ear over the proceedings. I am NOT, repeat NOT irreverent. Really.

So the kid in question - I have to admit, as kids go, this dude's pretty clean-cut, honest, wholesome. He's the one I'll mention in my substitute notes as "the kid to ask for an honest answer on whatever issue." He says sir out of habit, and really is just a strikingly well-behaved dude. Don't get me wrong. He's still a teenager and loves his mischief and is a goof - but his heart is as clear as I've ever run into at that age. It's pretty impressive. I wouldn't bring this up so much except that, as teachers, you kind of eyeball kids and wonder which one yours will be like. Physically, there's just no way - he's neither heavily built nor tall, and Amy has both in her bloodline, and I'm the midget in a clan of giants by way of chemical interference during puberty, so there's no doubt that my 5'11" height is "fake." But this kid's parents apparently have some pretty sharp insights on how to raise a proper boy. It's funny... parents often come to their children's teachers on advice for how to handle their children.  Truth is, in some cases, I'd rather go to them.  Think I just may, too, when the time comes.

"Hey. Your kid possesses the impressive and unique qualities of neither being a freak nor a complete reject. How'd you pull that off?"

Flattering in its own way, I guess?

So Miss Amy's bump is starting to become noticeably more pronounced; the ball is picking up speed down the mountain, as it were. If I'm just glancing at my gorgeous wife, she doesn't look any different, but I don't have to inspect her long to pick it out anymore. I imagine before too long, even my permanent-mental-image-of-gorgeous-Amy will be able to pick out the changes on a glance. Part of me wonders what this will do on the hormonal level; I strongly suspect that any guy who says he finds his wife sexier when she's immensely pregnant is lying. Those qualities which most men find sexy are, by natural process, gone late in the pregnancy. That doesn't mean I won't still find her attractive for who she is, what she means to me, and so on, but it will obviously change some qualitative factors. I don't know by how much - it hasn't changed anything yet - but I'll admit I'm curious about it. I'm very analytical and "cold-minded" about the world around me, but I'd be a fool not to recognize I'm a creature of my body's own chemicals, too. Should be interesting to see how the two very different sides of Medieval Teacher react to the changes ahead.

Unlike the false alarm that Amy was coming out of the yuck phase earlier this month - heh, I wish - she really does appear to be coming out now. This arriving at the same time as we're both getting over a bout of coughs and icky stuffs, it works out well for everyone. Tip for fellows: Wives can't take the majority of aggressive anti-sickness drugs when pregnant. This means they stay contagious longer, greatly increasing your chance of getting sick. So wash more often, take preventative stuffs, etc, because unless your wife is uber-friggin-stinkin-cool like mine, she won't want to take care of you while she's pregnant and miserable. This will probably frustrate you, and while that frustration may be justified, her position of "I'm miserable too" is equally justified. Bear this in mind and avoid sickness when she is as much as possible.

Thanksgiving is due up fairly soon. I'll probably post something about that. I keep meaning to post more often in this thing, but the early stages of this pregnancy bit are a bit slow-going, and honestly, I didn't want to dwell unduly on the misery of the first trimester. I'd hate for my blog, as my students call it, to turn "emo."

Life continues onward. Mental note to talk about the strange and various gear you get when babies are on the way, including the biology-defying car seats.

MT out.