I will be the worst pregnant woman. Ever.

I’m only having one child. Not for any personal reasons. Please. I’m Irish Catholic.

(Although to be honest, we kind of failed at the whole have-a-soccer-team-without-leaving-your-house thing. There are only five grandchildren in my mom’s family. My dad’s Polish relatives thoroughly beat us- there are like thirteen or something. Even the ex-seminarian has six! Probably a good thing he’s ex.)

No, it’s because I will be the most unpleasant pregnant woman ever, and no man is ever going to want to have sex with me again after nine months of having to exist with me, the most unpleasant pregnant woman ever.

This occurred to me on Monday as I was stress-eating my way through whatever was left from Christmas and obsessively checking for my grades. It’s not even just the wait, there’s no coffee or NyQuil in pregnancy? What??? And the fact that I know my body and wow, I’m going to be epic. I don’t put on weight prettily. I’m not going to be prime-time-sitcom-pretty-little-baby-bump pregnant, I’m going to be TLC-reality-harsh-lighting pregnant. No. Not just that.

I don’t do well waiting for results. It’s not necessarily that I’m impatient like a child, it’s just that I…well…am impatient like a child. The whole grade thing? I’m pretty sure I have an ulcer. Waiting for acceptance or rejection from grad schools? I’m ready to go to Northwestern and hold the head of admissions’ child hostage until he renders a decision.

(Also? My maternal instincts have only thus far been activated by the iPhone.)

Imagine nine months of major waiting. What if I don’t like the baby? What if the baby doesn’t like me and I love the baby? What if it’s a boy? What if it’s sick? Are you still in there? It’s been like five months. What if his father murders me in my sleep? That happens a lot you know. Oh my God, he’s going to kill me. What if the baby is ugly? What if it’s a girl? Still in there? WHY? What if the epidural doesn’t work? What if my mom doesn’t like it? What if she’s stupid? Am I going to annoy my own baby with my academic snobbery? What if someone cuts it out of me like that one CSI episode? Are you coming out yet? What if I have an episiotomy? That’s really gross. SERIOUSLY BE BORN ALREADY.

Oh. It’s not going to be pretty.

Maybe that’s why I’m single right now- no one could go through the waiting for acceptance into a graduate program and having a baby with me. It’s not human.

Whatever, I’ll take it.

Hah! So remember when I was whining? Which time, you ask. Well, good point. About finals. Still going to need more, you say. Again, true. About my having to take two finals on Tuesday a mere number of hours before Christmas?

Of course. That time.

Well, I was at on of my myriad of finals with this professor yesteray and when I turned in my blue book he was all, “Oh! Kathleen, yeah, your grade for [Tuesday’s final] is going to be an A. You’re exempt from taking it.” Um. Okay. That makes no sense.

But it does mean that I get to take the online exam in the morning, and then bake cookies and otherwise be irresponsible on Tuesday! Because I don’t, like, work or anything. That would be crazy.

It also means that after my 12:30 final today in the class that I REALLY DON’T WANT TO TAKE is my last real you-can’t-look-at-the-notes-open-on-your-lap final. Like, ugh, the Holocaust? Bummer. And Zionism- I am SO OVER Zionism. Like, for reals. I want to the multiple choice to be “Who was Theodor Herzl?” and the essay to be, “Talk about the formation of Israel that you learned in a lecture that was ten times as good as any I was able to give you this semester, even when I did that weird little, “Ha! We won.” laugh that one time.”

Okay. I don’t think she’s going to phrase it like that.

It would be awesome though.

Things that are bugging me today.

1.) My disturbing Pavlovian response to the words “Israel” and “Zion” that is due entirely to my Arab-Israeli Conflict final that I have to take in about three hours.

(I maintain the class is misnamed- it should be the Palestinian-Israeli Conflict. The Arab states never really loved the Palestinians anyway and after 1967 they dumped them completely. So it’s hardly fair that they end up in the title of the conflict.)

Every time I hear those words, I’m like, “Ooh, I know about that! I know how much aid they received from the US in 1967 as opposed to 1968 ($12 million and $77 million, btw).” And opinions- do I have opinions. But you’re not going to hear them. Because I’m too white and Christian to spout off my beliefs without looking like an anti-semite. Which I’m not. But I’m pretty sure it may come off that way in print.

And let me tell you, Advent is a bad time to be obsessed with Israel. Because it’s in, like, every song and reading. During the homily last weekend I made myself space out because I was getting tired of reciting details in my head.

So. I’m really hoping that the test goes well. I was driving my brother to school this morning and he asked which exam I had today. I replied, “Arab/Israeli conflict. *pause* But I don’t think I’ll be able to solve it.” He smiled and said, “You’d definitely get an A.”

Personally, I think if I’m able to bring about a lasting peace in Gaza and the West Bank, I deserve extra credit.

2.) Northwestern University and Marquette University, and their seriously lazy graduate application departments.

Okay. I’ll give Marquette a free pass for this one. Not only do I really want to go there, but the deadline hasn’t even arrived yet. So. You guys are okay. For another week or two.

But Northwestern? Your deadline was, like, two whole weeks ago. And you don’t even send out letters to the losers you don’t admit. WHAT IS TAKING YOU SO LONG? Would it kill you to put a little “Denied” button on my application page so I can go back to banging my head into the wall and drinking heavily? I THINK NOT.

Shut up. I’m not crazy.

3.) I don’t really have a three. Except that I think only two items looks lazy. Hmmm. I’m sure there’s something. Oh- got it. My professor won’t e-mail me back and tell me if he’s finished grading my paper yet. Because I worked really, really hard on it and I really, really want it back so I can enjoy all the glowing comments during the winter break, after Northwestern rejects me.

I’m not being conceited. Even if it was a crappy paper, I’d get glowing comments. That’s just the nature of our relationship. I sign up for all of his hideously underfunded classes about Jews in 1970s Ohio or other ridiculous bordering-on-hilarious classes, and he spews loveliness that affirms my self-worth all over my work. I love him.

Okay. I think that’s all.

They should just call it "get absolutely nothing accomplished day"

But no. “Study Day” looks better on the university calendar.

You know what doesn’t look good on the calendar? The fact that “Final Exams” runs through the 22nd. And I have two exams on the 22nd. And I’m not one of those people who can do anything other than exams during exams. So there will be no cleaning, no cookies, and no Christmas joy until the morning of the 23rd. Because during exam week I am so preoccupied with the fact that I am once again thisclose to a 4.0, and there’s another end of a semester, and God, I’m crying a lot. Which I think is a little bit cruel, UWM. For the thousands I will be paying off until I die pay you, you’d think you could give me longer that 48 hours to prepare for the birth of the Lord.

So. I figured I’d try this whole updating thing earlier in the day. Because the whole nighttime thing? Not working. I fell asleep at nine o’clock last night. It was pretty embarrassing. Anyway, it’s 10 o’clock right now, I’ve been subsisting on coffee for a few days, and I have nowhere to be. This is a strange feeling for ten o’clock on a Tuesday morning. I should be in class. What class would I be in…oh, Jewish Wisconsin. Aww. I loved that class. I want to be in that class right now.

Which brings us to our real point. That I’m a crazy person.

It may not be in the same flamboyant way that other people are. I don’t need medication, and I don’t go to therapy (Although I a huge supporter of counseling. Seriously. The more the better. I’ve seen what happens when you don’t go, and I’ve seen how much it can help somebody when you do.), but I tend to have quiet little nervous breakdowns when I get stressed. Again- quiet. Very self-contained. I don’t mean to say that what I go through is anywhere near what people who have major nervous breakdowns or panic attacks do, but it’s there.

Like the end of last semester. The post I wrote about it is one of my favorites, possibly because I manage to foreshadow my future Jewish Studies degree (I literally did not have any idea I was going to do that) and get a virgin birth quip in there. And it’s true- I didn’t handle the end of last semester well. I was very upset- more upset than I should have been. And I know that it’s related to stress and exhaustion, because I had similar feelings during the whole Grandpa’s house thing last year.

Like when I found out my mom probably had cancer again and I completely lost it in front of an electrician and my cousin’s roommate.

I know what you’re thinking- um, you just found out your mom had cancer. That’s probably a good reason to be upset.

And yeah, it is. Except, and I don’t want to seem callous, but I’ve done this before. I’ve gotten that phone call, several times, and I’ve never lost it like I did that day. I was just at the end of my rope.

(Incidentally, that was also finals week. Yeah. Good times.)

So this whole post really had a point, I promise. And it was to serve as an early warning system- watch out for next semester. Because it’s not going to be pretty?

I can’t really tell you how not-pretty it’s going to be. Because I can’t think about it. Like, I’m in complete denial. I think about graduation in some kind of abstract quality, but never like it’s actually going to happen. That would require acknowledging that in approximately 22 weeks I won’t be an undergraduate at UWM anymore. And I can’t deal with that. The though crosses my mind, I want to cry, and then I ignore it.

So. Denial and the crazy. Not good.

Marital property state.

Background: My parents have a fantastic marriage. So fantastic I’m pretty sure my brother and sister and I will die alone because we’ll never have what they have. They do annoying things like want to hang out with each other. All the time.

Today, my dad got a portable digital TV. It gets all those digital stations, and he is enamored with it. So much so that his first reaction was, “We could cancel cable now that I have this!”

My mother, his devoted wife of 26 years who doesn’t even have a good engagement story because according to her, “We always knew we wanted to get married!”, replies, “You cancel cable, and I’ll cancel you.”

The woman loves her QVC.

I was going to get all emotional…

…but it turns out being emotionally exhausted is physically exhausting, and I don’t totally feel like waxing poetic about my denial of the coming semester and how there may not be any more coming after it and yes, I started to cry this morning so what I’m normal, dammit.


Instead I’m going to write about how Facebook thinks I’m Jewish. And looking for a husband. At Jwed.com. Or perhaps jewishsingles.net. (Find your mensch today! I’m not even kidding. I don’t know what that means, but I’m guessing he won’t come to the Easter Vigil with me.) Jwed in particular has quite the track record- five weddings a week! My goodness.

Anyway, Facebook apparently only picks up on the keywords in my statuses, and not on the “Religion” section. Because mine is very clearly “Roman Catholic.” If it could say “Roman Catholic and Like Hell I’m Raising My Kids Anything Else I Respect Your Ancient Religion But You Can Go To Temple All By Yourself Mister”, it would. The box wasn’t that long.

(Incidentally, that’s pretty much how my notes on intermarriage and the impact on the Jewish society in the United States from Jewish WI look. Yeah. It was an interesting class.)

Not a snow…oh wait! There *is* a snow day!

I literally had started typing this when my Facebook exploded with ZOMG SNOW DAY!!!1!!. So I had to retype it. Whatever. I don’t have to drive an hour in the snow!

I hate having afternoon classes. When they come at the end of a day filled with classes, that’s fine. I mean, I still crash around 3:30, which is not terribly surprising because I’ve been awake for about eleven hours at the point. (Except yesterday. Yesterday was the best 3:30-4:45 I think I’ve EVER HAD. I could get married at 4:00 and I’d still be like, honey, this is awesome, but there was this one Jewish Studies class…) But when they’re just alone in the afternoon? Not cool. Because I feel like I should spend all day on campus because I’m really a morning person but then I don’t want to and it’s just not a good idea. Bad idea. Next semester? That’s not happening.

However, there is one very huge benefit to having a 2:00 class. When UWM pussy-foots around for the better part of the morning about closing campus, you will still be at home when they wake up and realize HEY WE’RE A COMMUTER SCHOOL. Which means like 24,000 of our 26,000 students have to DRIVE HERE. From FAR AWAY. And NOTHING WE HAVE TO SAY ABOUT ITALIAN RENAISSANCE LANDSCAPE ARCHITECTURE IS WORTH THAT.

(I’m sorry. It’s not Dr. Hubbard’s fault that there was snow and I live far away.)

So. There’s that.

And now I have bunches more hours to accomplish everything I was supposed to do this morning. And didn’t. Because Facebook was more interesting.

Have a good Holy Day of Obligation!

While I was sitting in a Jewish archive researching this semester, I was eavesdropping on the office. It was a Friday, and the person in the office (not surprising, considering it was a Jewish archive) was obviously Jewish. She mentioned what was probably a service, and then concluded by saying, “Have a good shabbos!” The girl I was researching with (another Catholic) and I were all, aww, how cute! Catholics don’t do that. You don’t call you friends on Sunday morning and go, “have a good Mass!” But anyway, I figured that the only place it could work was on a holy day. So I hope everybody had a good Immaculate Conception.

Which is not Christ’s conception, but Mary’s. It’s elitist and annoying but it really bugs me when people mix those up.

So. There.

I’m not in Galena anymore, which is troubling. More so because this means I have to, like, get to school and stuff in the Worstest Blizzard Ever OMG that’s apparently coming…now! Look at that. By the time I got to my car after Mass there was an inch on the ground. Hmmm. Yeah. So…I think tomorrow is going to be a snow day. Because I only have one class, and it’s not terribly important, and you know what? Grafton is frickin’ far away from the East Side, y’all.

Now. Maybe UWM will agree with me and life will be much happier.

I’m in Galena!

Which means I’m not actually here, writing this. Because I’m too lazy to drag my computer along with me. And also our family kind of resembles a circus pulling into town and I prefer to stay as inconspicuous as possible. So. This is a fake entry.

In which I do nothing except tell you that in my Jewish Wisconsin class? There are a lot of old Jewish doctors? And one of them was Father Groppi’s personal physician? Even though he was an OB/GYN?

Yeah. I think that should have been kind of telling, but whatever.

Father Groppi is quite the topic around our house, mostly because my dad grew up on the south side and I think he’s torn between being disturbed by his liberalness (is that a word?) and finding him fascinating. So these last few lectures have been interested.

Next week we’re doing the synagogues. Woot. Which means the entire class will be, “Well, Tim, when we moved to Brown Deer with Emanu-El…*twenty minutes of rambling while I pick at my nails and picture the professor in vestments (it’s a thing)*”. And I’ll have nothing to add because I’m a poor little shiksa. *sigh*

Cleaning the garage.

I’m not sure if it’s too early still to say that we’re going to Galena (we’re leaving in like half an hour). Colleen hasn’t wanted to jinx it, so we’ve been saying “cleaning the garage”. Which makes no sense. But whatever.

So yay! It shall be fun. And I’m fairly certain that the hour and a half I spent working out this morning was a ridiculous waste of time, as I tend to consume my weight in food during these weekends in Galena. Oh, well.