Update! A long, whiny update....

Tuesday morning's ultrasound did NOT make me feel any better. The registration people had my information all screwed up, and I paid half of the $396 that was my portion of the ultrasound and agreed to make monthly payments for the rest. That was so much money! Especially when you're trying to move and can use every penny.


The ultrasound was started by a trainee, who just sort of cruised around with the wand, checking things out, until the real technician got there. The real technician had to verify with me what she was supposed to be looking for - not an encouraging sign. Then she proceeded to maul my pregnant belly for twenty minutes. She hurt me. She was using way too much pressure, and she kept letting the wand and my stomach dry out, which was quite uncomfortable, as well.


The tech couldn't get Little Guy to move his head (he had pulled his face in towards his chest), and finally ordered me to go use the restroom to see if he would stretch out. I gratefully complied, and upon my return to the room there was a new tech there, who told me he was going to be finishing up. Twenty minutes of him poking around and he sent some pictures off and declared that he would be right back. When he left the room the little trainee hopped back on the machine and kept on with the test. Don't get me wrong, I love seeing my baby, but I was uncomfortable, unhappy, and wanted to be done with the whole experience. Ultrasound technicians cannot tell you anything except the most basic information, so while they could tell me what they were looking at, they could not tell me why they were looking at it or if they saw anything amiss. An hour of silence, only broken occassionally to tell me what I was seeing, and then only if I asked.


A few minutes after the real tech left he returned, saying he just needed a few more pictures. And he did the same thing three more times - leave, return, resume, leave. It was making me paranoid. And every time he left the trainee would hop back in. I felt like a training dummy.


Finally, we were done. They sent me on my way after an hour, a full hour, none the wiser as to what was happening with my baby. I did think to ask when my doctor would get the test results back, and the tech said two days.


So the next day I called my OB's office and left a message with his nurse. She called me back promptly the next morning and I explained to her that I just wanted - no, needed to know, for my own peace of mind, if they ultrasound(s) looked OK. She promised to call me back. And at the end of the day, my doctor called me back. Himself! And said everything looked fine, they didn't see any of the anomolies that are generally associated with SUA on either scan. I feel much, much better now. Whew!


Now as for Ms. Jacelyn - well, Friday I had a conference with her teacher. It was at this conference, this time last year, that I got her report card. And that was K4, so since she's actually an official kindergartener this year, I figured this would be even more official. I arrived at my school-scheduled time of 7:45 (an evil time to assign, I thought - the kids didn't have school, so I could have slept late if I didn't have such an early time) and met with her teacher, who just loooooooooooves my little girl. She said she occassionally talks when she is supposed to be listening, but not in such a way that it was a big problem. She said Jacelyn is a very good reader, her writing is excellent, and she's a very good student and a smart girl.


Then she said that they will not have report cards this term, just a little progress report (that was a photocopied report card filled out in pencil that I could not take with me). The progress report showed conduct, and then the grades for special classes. Jacelyn is still in the S, G, and P age for special classes (exceeds, meets, and then I'm not sure what a P stands for because she has never received one before and I don't have anything to refer back to). Her teacher showed me her special class (music, art, etc) grades, which I didn't have much of a chance to look at too closely, and then pointed out a 'P' in her art grades. I suppose the 'P' was for talking, or not listening to directions, but I don't know that. So I left the art teacher a message, asking her to call me back. Not so I can harangue her (although the overprotective mother in me would love to, wants to, in fact), but so I can find out what Jacelyn is doing so that I can speak to Jacelyn about it and fix it. The art teacher called me back today (Monday) and said that it was, indeed, for talking, but that she was already improving over the last two or three weeks and that it wasn't a problem. Or at least, it was a problem and was correcting itself.

I don't know why they didn't give out report cards. Jacelyn's teacher didn't know. I think it's kind of crappy - I mean, I would like to know how my daughter is doing in all areas of her education, not just her conduct and art, music and PE. I mean, what she is learning is important, and to not issue a report card on it seems to say it's not that important, or that they haven't done enough to merit reporting on, which I know isn't true. It bothers me. Not so much that I can't sleep at night, but it sticks a little in the corner of my mind. All the other grades got report cards. I don't know - I guess I'll just have to get over it, but I don't think it's very fair to just decide not to issue a report card without notice or an explanation.

I have to go home and sort through nut orders for my daisies, then continue with my packing so we will be at least sort of somewhat ready to move on Thursday. I have begrudgingly accepted the fact that we probably won't be able to stay at the new house Thursday night, just due to the sheer volume of crap that we own that needs to be gone through and sorted, but I cannot wait. I am so ready. I have been ready for the last two and a half years.

I packed up most of Jacelyn's stuff yesterday. We have the complication of leaving some stuff at Brian's parents and bringing some of it with us. Jacelyn had to go through everything, every single thing - every hot wheel, every pair of socks, even every pair of panties, and seriously think about whether it stays at Maw-Maw's or goes to the new house. We went through her underpants one at a time and she would mull over who-knows-what in her head. "Ummmm... the princess panties can go to the new house, but the My Little Pony ones should stay here. And remember those Spongebob ones? I think I want to bring those insteand of leave them". There was serious consideration involved. She still hasn't decided about the Dora Dollhouse - that has been boxed and unboxed about six times. I guess when you're five that is an agonizing decision - do I bring Candyland, or Chutes and Ladders? I tried to remind her that we will be just down the street, but that matters not to her little five-year old way of thinking. The toys left behind will not be immediately accessible, and that's all she seems to see.

I have my sugar test at the hospital tomorrow, and then I have to stop by the council store to pick up some 'Pizza Party' patches for the girls. Then off to Wal-Mart, to pick up the fixins' for english muffin pizzas, then off to scouts, where we will make pizzas and play games for our hour - we've been so busy making stuff for the big cluster meeting last Friday that we haven't had a chance to just have fun, so that is what tomorrow afternoon is all about. Then more packing, and more packing, and Brian's birthday is Wednesday, and then Thursday we move in. I'm tired, and sore, and my back and my hips hurt, and I've had a couple of mean Braxton-Hicks contractions today, but you know? We're moving out, finally, so that's all OK. Until afterwards, when I will be a mess, but that's OK too. Wish us luck!