Loving through the chaos

Conversations with Benjy

Me:  Benjy, is this baby ever coming out?
Benjy:  (Patiently) Yes, Mama.  It’s just not big enough.  Right now it’s only this big (puts hands 12 inches apart).  When it’s this big (about 2 feet) the baby will come.
M:  Okay, but when will it come out?
B:  (Very seriously) 20 months.
M:  20 months??!  That’s a really long time!!
B:  Okay, 20 days.
M:  20 days?!  Please, no!
B:  Okay, 7 days.

(Everything is quiet in their bedroom.  Kids are drifting off to sleep.  Olli is there, cuddling Henry, when suddenly…)
Benjy:  (Whispering)  Dad…  Are kids humans?
Olli:  Yes.
B:  Gah!  Julius was right!

(Olli has come back from skating with Benjy and can’t find his phone.  He’s searching frantically.  Benjy is sitting on the couch, reading his book.)
Olli:  Okay, Benjy, I’ve got to go outside and look for my phone.  I’ll be gone for 2 minutes, will you be okay?
Benjy:  Yeah.
(Olli returns empty handed.  Benjy had moved to play in our bedroom.  Olli spots the phone on the couch right where Benjy had been sitting.)
O:  Oh!  Here’s my phone!  It was right next to you on the couch!
B:  Yeah, I know.  I saw it there.
O:  Then why didn’t you tell me?
B:  Well, why didn’t you ask?

Still pregnant

I’m still pregnant.  I will be for a while yet.  About 13 more weeks, if this kid comes at any time around the due date.  This is a good thing, since Olli and I are still firmly in denial.  Denial is an awesome place to be.  Denial keeps us sane.

A few themes have come up repeatedly throughout this pregnancy.  I thought now, at 27 weeks pregnant, I could address them.

“Your kids will be so close together!  Are you crazy?”

My response:  It will be chaos for the first year.  I’m even going to venture to say it’ll be just this side of horrible.  I remember the first year with Benjy and Henry.  It was exhausting- the kids on opposite schedules, 2 kids in diapers, sleep deprivation, the effects of mommy brain in full force.

But then the first year passes.  Quickly, even.  Super quickly, if Henry’s first year is any indication.  And then it’s okay.  They wake up at the same time, go to bed at the same time, eat the same food.  By then Henry will know how to dress himself, he’ll be closer to being potty trained.  Life will go on.  We’ll be just fine.

Furthermore, if I waited- if we let more time pass in between children, I’d never have the guts to have more kids.  Seriously, if we waited until Henry was fully potty trained.  Or if we waited until they were in school.  If let any more time pass, there’d be no way I’d look at Olli and say, “You know what we need?  We need to start the madness all over again.”  But now, it’s just, “It’s already crazy here!  Let’s just add a little more to the mix.”

“I bet you’re hoping for a girl!”

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’d like a girl.  Because I want a best friend when she’s 30.  I want someone who will call me and let me live with her when the grandkids are born and help plan her wedding.  I want her to call me to say “hi,” to remember my birthday, to plan a Mothers’ Day Brunch.  I understand that I’m being stereotypical here, but men, in general, just don’t think that way.  It’s enough to remember their own anniversaries- the chances they’ll remember mine are slim to none.

And so, of course I’d like a girl.

But.

I was convinced Henry was a girl.  And I even hoped he was a girl.  But now that he’s out and now that I’ve had 25 blessed months to get to know this kid?  There’s no way he was supposed to be anyone but who he is.  It’s ridiculous to think I could have wished he were a girl.  I wouldn’t change a single thing about him.

So, I can honestly say that if this kid turns out to be a boy, I will in no way be disappointed.  I might even be relieved, considering we already have all the clothes in storage.  :)

“You still have 3 months left?!  You’re huge!”

Not only is this not a terribly kind thing to say to a pregnant woman, it’s not entirely true.  I mean, it’s true that I’m much MUCH bigger than I was six months ago, but when people see me at nine months pregnant?  They’ll think I was downright TINY at 6 months.  No, I’m not having twins.  And actually, this baby is small according my doctor.

As enormous as I look now, just WAIT until March!  Fabulous!

But I actually feel great.  I definitely feel the best I’ve ever felt during any pregnancy.  I get tired.  I get sore.  But by and large, I’m fine.

I attribute this great feeling to the gym.  I go 3 times/week.  And it helps so much.  My back hasn’t lost all its muscle mass and neither has my stomach, which help me carry this kid with better posture and strength.  And the machine that is effectively a thigh master with weights has helped ENORMOUSLY with the pain I felt in my groin ligaments throughout my second pregnancy.  The elliptical helps me keep my stamina when pulling two kids through knee deep snow on a sled in the middle of a blizzard.  And the post-workout sauna helps with EVERYTHING.

I’ll find a gym when I head Stateside, so I can keep it up through Christmas.  And then when I get back it’ll be full speed ahead until it’s not.  When I decide I’m done gym-ing it up, then I’m done.

I’ll find someone to take a belly shot and post it when I think of it.  I don’t have ANY from this pregnancy.  Can you tell it’s my third?  :)

First and second grade lessons

Hi!  I’m here!!  Still alive!  It’s just that I’ve been – get this – working.  Like, gainfully employed.  GETTING PAID.  I know.  It’s kind of wacky.  But it’s true!

I’ve already mentioned that I’ve been subbing recently for every age from 5 to 18.  It’s been incredibly interesting, totally insightful, and genuinely a lot of fun.

I’ve learned A TON.  About myself, about kids, about teaching.  I’ve already talked about the lessons learned in daycare.  I can now turn to the lessons learned subbing for first and second grade (7 and 8 year olds).

I’ve only taught 4 days for primary school, but these classes I can say I TAUGHT and not “taught” like I have with other subbing assignments.

Because unlike middle school or high school, where you can give kids some practice exams and say “work quietly”- primary school is FULL ON for every second of every minute spent in the classroom.

On any given day subbing primary school, I’ll teach music, religion, math, English, ESL, art.  I have lunch duty, I have recess duty.  I have “take the kid to the loo” duty when they forget to go during recess.  The teachers leave lesson plans, but half the time I can’t find the worksheets or can’t figure out how to use the computer or can’t turn on the projector, so the planned lesson goes out the window and I make it up as I go along.

I created an entire music lesson, teaching quarter and eighth notes, crescendos, decrescendos in 2 minutes.  I made an ESL lesson about color and classroom directions AS I WAS TALKING.  Depending on which school I’m at, I have an assistant, which makes things AWESOME.  No assistant equals barely contained chaos.

Let’s just say I respect primary school teachers about 150% more than I ever thought I could.  And it’s not that I ever disrespected them.  It’s not that I ever thought teaching primary school was particularly easy, it’s just that I never fully understood how difficult it is.

If a parent were to spend a day as a fly on the wall in her daughter’s first grade classroom, she would realize it’s nothing short of MIRACULOUS that they’ve managed to read, write, do simple math, learn about Moses and Joseph (religion is taught in Finnish schools- Christians go to Christian class, Muslims to Muslim class, Hindus to Hindu class, etc.  Those who do not belong to a faith have ethics.  Being an American who was raised not even knowing my teachers’ political affiliations much less religious persuasions, it throws me when a kid walks up and asks, “You’re a Christian?”), understand a few basic scientific tenets, and be able to wax philosophical about Picasso in a few short months.

Seven and eight year olds are just as wiggly and wormy as five year olds.  Maybe even more wiggly, since they don’t get to have playtime for two hours straight.  Asking them to sit, learn, and actually produce evidence of learning is bold.  It’s daring.  Sometimes it backfires.

But not all the time.

Clearly.

Because they’re learning.  They’re fantastic little sponges who pick up everything.  Who totally shock you when they have really insightful things to say about Henri Matisse’s paintings.  Who can understand basic algebra (of course it’s not called algebra, but it really is) shortly after learning how to add.  Who ask if they can try to clap the rhythm just one more time.

My first lesson teaching primary school EVER was first grade music.  The kids had been learning how to sing “What a wonderful world.”  The class was extremely international- kids from Southern Europe, Asia, America, Finland.  And it was nothing short of true beauty hearing these kids shout-sing “What a wonderful world” over and over.

And so, I’ve learned a lot from these kids.

I’ve learned that seven year olds fart.  A lot.

I’ve also learned they still need hugs and cuddles and hand holding.

I’ve learned they can wildly surpass expectations.

I’ve learned they can be amazingly empathetic and caring towards one another.

I’ve learned they (and by “they” I mean “girls”) can also manipulate one another at a very early age.

I’ve learned that teaching first and second grade is perhaps the most exhausting job I can think of.  Okay, maybe being cotton picking day laborer would be more exhausting.  But just by a hair.

My primary school experiences are few and far between.  I’m plenty charged up to go again when I get called in.

But to the teachers who do that job day in?  Day out?  Rain, sun, sleet, hail, snowstorms?  HATS OFF TO YOU, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.  You’re nothing short of a walking miracle.

Things I’ve learned at Daycare

I’ve been subbing at different places around the Helsinki Metro Area since August.  I’ve been everywhere- from low income to high income, from daycares to high schools.

And let me tell you, I’ve learned a little something.  About myself, about kids, about education.  About realistic expectations parents should have regarding schools.

The first thing I’ve learned is that everyone should substitute teach.  At least everyone with kids.  Even for a week.  Choose some schools at random and work there.  Don’t go as a parent observing (although that would also be helpful) but actively try to accomplish something.  IT’S HARD.  More on that later.

The second thing I’ve learned is that I like kids.  I know this shouldn’t come as a surprise, considering I have a couple of my own, but I was/am genuinely surprised.  I like kids of all ages.  I like the 5 year olds.  I like the high school seniors.  I can even tolerate 7th graders.  Sorry, but tolerate is all I can really say on the subject.  There’s a special place in heaven for those who actively appreciate them.

But this post isn’t about what I’ve learned subbing everywhere.  It’s about what I’ve learned subbing at daycare.  So, let’s start there.

First, I have to explain that Finland’s education system is vastly different from that of America.  Kids don’t start first grade until age 7.  They’re grouped by calendar year, not by the September start date.  So, if you’re born in January, you’d start at age 7 years and 9 months.  You have a year of “kindergarten” but it’s nothing like we Americans expect kindergarten to be.  You don’t leave kindergarten reading or doing simple math or telling time.  Kids enter first grade with teachers assuming they know nothing about anything and then go from there.

I’m not criticizing the Finnish system here at all.  AT ALL.  Finnish schools are consistently ranked the best in the world.  But, as an American who started first grade at the age of 5, it’s been difficult for me to get my head around this foreign way of thinking.

But then.  THEN.  I spent some time at daycare.  With the five year olds.  Who would, in America, be heading to kindergarten or first grade.

And I just about died thinking about it.

You guys.  Five year olds are BABIES.  They’re babies!  They like to sit in your lap and cuddle.  They need to be reminded to pee.  They’re still learning life skills like how to put on their rain gear, how to butter their bread, how to set the table.

That’s what Finns focus on in those first years. Life skills.  You cannot start first grade unless you know how to use a knife and fork, unless you can dress yourself.  Seriously.  You can’t.

And it’s GENIUS.

Because when I look at these lovely little five year olds, who are squirmy worms, who have to be reminded to chew and swallow, who go CRAZY if they don’t get their hour of outside morning playtime, and I think about actually try to teach these kids something…  My heart goes out to American kindergarten teachers who are charged with the SOLE care of 20 little creatures.  At daycare, it takes 3 full time staff to wrangle the 23 kids and we’re still exhausted by naptime (because YES these five year olds still need naps!  They’re BABIES!).

So, I’ve learned that the Finnish system is different, but it makes sense.  Which is a good thing to learn, considering my kids may very well be going through the Finnish system.

I’ve also learned that five year olds can clean up their toys, put away their clothes, and entertain themselves for HOURS WITHOUT TELEVISION.  They CAN.  They really can.  And if they don’t do it at home, it’s because parents don’t expect them to.  I’m sorry.  It’s harsh.  But it’s the way it is.  At daycare, when the kids are done with a puzzle, they clean up the puzzle before moving onto the next thing.  Without reminders, without nagging.  Without threats.  They do it because it’s expected.  Because it’s the thing to do.  Because the teachers take no guff and make their expectations and consequences known.

They run a tight ship, these daycare employees.

And it’s marvelous.

After a week subbing at daycare, I realized my kids were probably cleaning up their toys at daycare, too!  And if they could do it at daycare, they could certainly do it at home!  And so they do!  THEY DO!

Each night, everyone helps clean up all the toys.  Even Henry.  The Moomin toys go in the Moomin box.  Playmobile in the Playmobile house.  Cars in the car bucket.  Megablocks in the Megablock bag.

Benjy even puts away his own laundry now.

SCORE ANOTHER POINT FOR DAYCARE SUBBING!

I’ve learned that someday I might actually like to be a full time daycare teacher.  Not now, of course.  Because now, after a day of subbing kids that age, I have nothing left to give my own kids when I get home.  And that just doesn’t work.  But someday, when my kids are grown, I can say I’d definitely like to spend time reading and cuddling and planning crafts for five year olds.  It’s so much easier when you’re a) not on your own (my colleagues were/are fantastic) b) they’re not your kids, and most surprisingly, c) there’s a ton of them- for then they keep one another entertained.

I’ve learned that daycare teachers love the kids, know the kids, think about the kids after work, on weekends, on holidays.

I’ve learned how I should communicate with my kids’ daycare providers after seeing how I want parents to communicate with me.

Seriously, my twelve days at daycare have provided more than some extra income.  It’s been an insight into the inner workings of a world heretofore completely foreign to me.  It’s been wonderful.

I went to the gym

No, you don’t understand.  

I went to the gym.

That mystical place where people go to feel fit and healthy and happy and freshly-sauna-ed.

I used to know it well.  But over the last two months- TWO MONTHS- I haven’t made it there once.

So, when I say that I went the gym, it means a lot.

It means I don’t feel like I’m going to yak every minute of the day.

It means I have the energy.

It means that these four kilos I’ve gained in the past three months might be the only four I gain for a few weeks (Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind gaining weight during pregnancy.  But I worked HARD to get my body back, and I don’t want to surrender it completely at week 15.)

And these days, it also means I have the TIME.

Because lately?  Time has been something I haven’t really had.

August was INSANE.  I knew it would be insane, and it really lived up to its hype.

In addition to moving out of my office, moving flats, finishing up photography, being pregnant, and being a mom, I substituted part-time at a daycare three days a week.

I have roughly 4 shoots on my memory card I haven’t even looked at.  I haven’t been out with friends for weeks.  My kids were repeatedly shipped off to my in-laws’ while we packed and unpacked.

September.  Just get to September.

My August mantra.

Well, it’s September, and I can say that my flat looks like a HOME and not a storage container, full of boxes.  I have mixed feelings about our new place, but that’s for a later post.

I loved substituting at the daycare (which, by the way, shocked me COMPLETELY), but that’s on hold for the moment- they’ll ask for me ad hoc.  I learned a lot whilst working at the daycare- again later post.

I have my last three shoots in the next five days.  Again, mixed feelings.

My nausea is all but gone completely.  When I get tired or too hungry I get sick, but no random vomiting.  Huzzah!

I feel like I’ve got time to breathe.  Breathe and edit.  Which will most likely make my clients the happiest.  :)

11 weeks pregnant… again

And so I’m 11 weeks pregnant… again.  And by again I don’t mean for the third time in my life.  I mean for the third time this pregnancy.

The first midwife, when I gave her the date of my last period told me I was 7 weeks pregnant.  Turns out she miscalculated and I was only 6.  Knocking back your week count by 1 is terrible.

Then I went for the first ultrasound last Friday (ultrasounds, by the way, NEVER GET OLD.  This ultrasound was every bit as exciting and miraculous as my first ultrasound with Benjy).  The baby is perfect- perfect little feet, perfect little legs, perfect little heart- emphasis on LITTLE.  My due date was recalculated, bumped back by six days- nearly a full week.

Knocking back your week by count, as I said, is terrible.  Knocking it back by TWO weeks?!  Man, oh man.

And it’s not that I mind that the baby will be inside me six days longer.  I’m absolutely intent on enjoying these next few months of relative peace.  I’m willing to let Henry continue to be the youngest for as long as possible.  I’m so outrageously excited about meeting this baby, but I’m in no rush.

Bumping back my due date just means that I’ll spend six more days in morning sickness hell.  It means I’ll be too exhausted to function for SIX MORE DAYS. It means the full day wedding I’m going to shoot in a week will take place at the start of week 13, not at week 14 when I expect morning sickness to subside.  It means moving house, subbing at daycare, getting my kids settled in their new daycare, finishing up photography, and spending time with my family will be considerably more difficult for six more days.

Six more days.

I can do this.

Ch-ch-ch-changes…

Life as I know it is about to be altered completely.

Okay, not completely.  Gravity will still be gravity.  We’ll still be in Finland.  I’ll still have Olli and my children by my side.

But, changes- big changes- are in the air.

First, we’re moving.

Although we LOVE this flat, we LOVE this area, we LOVE the convenience, we LOVE the lively atmosphere, the street performers, even the occasional drunk (not that there are only occasional drunks in Kallio- just that we only appreciate the occasional one), we don’t love the high, outrageous rent.  And so we’re moving.  To a much quieter, more traditional neighborhood.  To a much, MUCH smaller flat.  But to a flat that we can afford, to a flat 100m from a swimming beach, to a flat near Olli’s brother, Olli’s office, and my favorite of the Elixia Gym branches.

I’m not looking forward to the whole process of moving (who would?) but I’m looking forward to living within our means.  I’m also looking forward to being closer to Olli’s family, to stop hunting for a parking spot every time we return home (indeed, I’m trying to persuade Olli to sell the car entirely), to having a common laundry area to hang wet clothes, stroller storage, a beautiful bathroom, and a well lit living room.

I’m okay with moving.

Second, brace yourself, I’m quitting photography.  Huge, I know.

But remember how I said earlier this year that I was all in?  That I was going to try everything I could think of to make it as a photographer?  Well, I did.  I got my office, I went to the wedding fair, I tried Groupon, I got more exposure to my website- and yet.   And yet.  No dice.

What I’ve realized is that being a good photographer does not equal being a successful photographer.  I think I’m a pretty good photographer.  Sometimes I’m downright great.  But I am terrible- TERRIBLE- at business.  I can’t figure out how to get people to pay me for what I do.  And this is a problem, considering being a photographer is EXPENSIVE.  It costs a whole lot of time and a whole lot of money.

And so, after much hemming and hawing, I’ve decided to end Pikku Arkki Valokuvuas : Little Ark Photography.  I’ll continue to shoot through September 8 (I’ve got room for about 5 more sessions if you want your family photographed before I shut down), but then I’ll be closing up shop.  I’ll keep the blog going at the same blog address, since it’s become a way to sort myself out, record memories, and communicate with the world at large.  But this won’t be a photography blog.  It’ll be a plain old Sarah blog.

Again, I’m ultimately okay with this change.  I’m so glad I tried it.  I’m glad I learned how to use my camera- and Photoshop, Photodex, Flash, WordPress, and some html/css coding. I’m proud of the memories I’ve captured for my clients.  I love that I’ve helped others to capture their own memories.  I’m thrilled that I spent this year diving in.  No regrets.

So, moving and quitting combined with a new baby- never a dull moment in this household…  :)

But onward and upward- ready for better things in store.