Coffee is sooo good. I've got a lovely large mug (a gift from Heather :)) full of coffee made with beans that Carlos brought back from Mexico, sweet cream and a hint of cinnamon. I firmly believe that there will be coffee in heaven. And chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.
The first week of school is over (for me--and almost for Carlos). I've got a class that meets for an hour and a half twice a week. It is the perfect size for a language class--about 15--and there are some fun and dedicated students. One, in particular is very vocal. She has opinions, suggestions and questions on everything related to our class, as well as on a wide variety of topics that have nothing to do with Spanish. She is really nice and I've been able to smile and just keep our class focused on the lesson.
Another told me that she has taken the class six times and failed each time. She wanted to know if I though she could pass. Oh, my. Frankly, I can't imagine taking the same class 7 times. I didn't know whether to be impressed by her perseverance, or to doubt her efforts (or her veracity). I settled for letting her know what she'll need to be able to do in order to pass. I'm still puzzled by this, though. If there is a learning disability involved (and I have no indication that there might be) why on earth hasn't someone caught it by now? Why would anyone spend the time and money to take a class seven times without either giving up or learning enough to pass? And who did she have before? I am known as one of the toughest Spanish teachers in the college in terms of grading, and most of my students pass. I am curious about how this is going to turn out, but I hope that this time she succeeds.
Another class starts in a couple of weeks. It will use the new textbook, which will be quite an adjustment. I think that instructors sometimes get attached to the book they start out with (sort of like imprinting on baby ducks). I love our old book, but we'll see how this one goes.
I definitely miss Elena while I am in class. It is funny, because she is not on a schedule, and so she will normally go anywhere from a few minutes to about 2 hours between nursing. Since the class is an hour and twenty minutes, I am gone about two and a half hours. So far, each day my milk has started flowing exactly at the time she started fussing. How cool is that, that God has made us so connected that even miles apart our bodies are in synch?
I am happy about the weekend. I love having Carlos home all day. I'm looking forward to spending time with my sister and my sister-in-law--two of my favorite people in the world--and I know the kidlets are always delighted to see them.
I desperately need to clean house. My motivation in that area has never been particularly high, and even less since Elena was born. It seems so futile. I'll just need to mop/vacuum/wash clothes-dishes-etc again in a few minutes. And if Elena is sleeping, the other two need attention or I need time to relax or work on school stuff. If she is awake, she is probably nursing :D. The wrap helps a lot, but ... Yes, I admit it. These are excuses. But I've convinced myself. It'll all still be there to do this evening, right?