It started in sixth grade. And lasted until . . . um, when I quit teaching the year before last.

I’m terrible about doing my homework. Even in subjects I like. Even when my homework was simply grading my students’ work (though I had no problem getting the grading done while I was physically at school). Even if it’ll take me only five minutes.

This should no longer be a problem for me, but karma has a sense of humor.

Lovebug and I have homework for his speech therapy.

I have to make him do weird things involving his tongue and Cheerios. I have try to close his jaw while he holds it open. I have to try to make him drink out of a big boy cup.

I knew, of course, that the day would come when my children would have homework. But checking their work or reading with them isn’t the same as this. In fact, I think this might be worse than the pages of long division my mean old fourth grade teacher, Mrs.Limbacher, assigned us. Because Lovebug is a passionate child. A child who has definite ideas about what he does (and does not) like. A child whose speech problem comes mainly from his strong attachment to sippy cups (according to the speech therapist, sippy cups are VERY BAD for kids learning to talk. Oddly, they didn’t affect Ironflower in the least, but whatever) and his lack of interest in articulating correctly. A child who doesn’t really like his speech homework.

Hot Guy’s argument is that he is only two, we can generally understand him and that all of this is kind of ridiculous. Nonetheless, he will probably be better about Lovebug’s homework than I will. I understand his point and I know that all the speech therapists I used to work with would never recommend a two year old who’s only a few months behind in articulation (and ahead in comprehension) for therapy. But, to use the classic saying, we’re not in Kansas (City) anymore. Around here, lots of toddlers and preschoolers get speech therapy. And I bet THEIR mothers do the homework in a timely and conscientious fashion.

So excuse me, I’m going to go teach my son how to pick up Cheerios with his tongue.

As we all know, I am pregnant. With my third child. Whether it’s the third baby thing or whether it’s that I was totally out of shape when I got pregnant, I don’t know - I just know that this time around all the pregnancy symptoms have come earlier - and stronger. The carpal tunnel. The needing to wear maternity pants in the ninth week. The continued aversion to Parmesan cheese. The sleeplessness. The back pain. The extreme bitchiness. The peeing when I sneeze.

And this being allergy season, I’m sneezing a lot.

Thank the heavens I bought cheap (large) cotton underwear for this pregnancy. But, uh, I don’t want to ruin it all when I’ve still got 15 weeks to go. So I think I’m going to have to do something I never, ever, wanted to do. I’m going to have to shop in the bladder control aisle of the drug store. I’m going to have to buy some underwear protection.

Okay, who’s embarrassed right now?

I’m not, actually. Well, not much. I’m more depressed - just like when I realized that I wanted to dye my hair to cover the gray and NOT because I wanted to try out a new color. Apparently, my bladder has joined with my hair to prove to me that I am old - no matter how often I feel sixteen.

So that’s my embarrassment - that I’m old. The fact that I’m contemplating adult diapers is no big deal, right?

Watch this for a far more eloquent discussion of the problem.

Some REAL challenges for contestants on Bravo’s reality shows.

Project Runway:

1. Design a stylish wardrobe - that encompasses the whole nine months - for a pregnant woman on a budget of less than $200.

2. Create a bathing suit that looks great on someone who wears a size 14.

3. Design a nursing top that looks good, actually works and lasts. . . for $20.

4. Make a cocktail dress - that doesn’t resemble a muumuu - for women sized 8 - 18.

5. Create a comfortable version of Spanx.

Top Chef

1. Create a week’s worth of dinners, that can be frozen and thawed throughout the week, and are tasty and nutritious, for $100.

2. Make a healthy Cheeto.

3. Cook a lunch for three picky preschoolers that includes all the food groups and can be made in ten minutes or less.

4. Create a tasty meal from foods found in a typical parent’s minivan.

Shear Genius

1. Develop a cut that looks good with a pregnant woman’s newly thick and straighter hair that will still work after she has the baby and all her hair falls out.

2. Cut a toddler’s hair evenly while the toddler throws a tantrum.

3. Develop a cut that looks good after being slept on.

4. Teach a harried mom to trim her own hair so that it looks good.

Top Design

1. Design a neat, functional play room for less than $200. Actually, design any room for $200.

2. Create a bed that is comfortable for women who are nine months pregnant and is functional for nursing mothers.

3. Make my house stylish - without spending any money.

4. Develop a toy storage line that is practical, affordable and not made of plastic.

Anyone got any ideas for other challenges that Bravo should be using?

So I was reading Vogue yesterday. Not for the fashion inspiration I so desperately need, because I will never be six feet tall, twenty or able to spend $4,000 on a shirt. And I rarely like anything high fashion anyway. I was reading Vogue because now that we have invested in the wading pool, I’ve been spending a lot time reading magazines while the kiddos play. Novels take too much concentration, I’ve found, so I use the magazines to keep myself awake. (I’m sure some of you would take this time to play with your kids, but my attitude is that if they’re happy without me actually playing, then I’ll relax for a few minutes. Sue me.)

Anyway, I was scraping the bottom of the magazine reading barrel by reading Vogue, but I had already read my own magazines (Newsweek, Entertainment Weekly and Parenting) and read most of the good ones that my parents pass on when they’re done (People, The Week). So Vogue it was.

The pictures alternately depressed and horrified me. Most of the articles weren’t much better. I knew it was bad when I avidly began reading the article about the lack of models of color on the catwalks. Finally, something with an opinion! And a valid one to boot. Apparently racism is alive and well around fashion designers and ad agencies. As in,  model agents getting calls saying, “We already have a black girl,” and “You didn’t tell us she was black!”. Seriously.

After I got over my initial shock, though, my first instinct was to dismiss it. Because it’s hard to feel sorry for a model. Unless you’re eating dinner with one. Anyway, I was about to forget about it (there being only so many things I can keep track of these days) as unblogworthy when I remembered a girl I knew during my first year of teaching. A little African-American girl who loved fashion and used to take all of my InStyle magazines.

What happens if she never sees any models that look like her? Especially when cretins like Don Imus still use “nappy headed” as an insult? And what good is it for my kiddo to only see models that look like her (for real, Ironflower is the ultimate ethereal blond)?

So, yeah, it does matter that designers and ad agencies aren’t hiring many - or any- models of color. Not being a customer of any of these designers, (Target and Old Navy, I’m proud to say, have people of all colors in their ads, at least) I’m not sure what I can do about the problem. Any ideas?

I have no style. I won’t even dignify my the clothing I’ve been wearing for the past few years by calling it “stay-at-home mom” style. Style implies choice. Going by what’s clean and what still fits is not making a choice.

It’s not like I used to be super-fashionable or anything. But I was aware of trends, aware of what looked good on me and had a certain look. Friends would say, “I saw this blouse at such and such and it’s so you! You have to go check it out.” I don’t think anyone would say that to me today, unless they saw v-necked solid color t-shirts on sale somewhere.

It’s not just that I’m pregnant, either. This has been going on far longer than that - maybe since I was pregnant with Ironflower. Even though I lost most of the weight that time around, my body had changed. And my life certainly had. Comfort began to take on a much bigger role and spending money on clothes for myself made me feel guilty when I had a closet full of clothes that would fit me if I ever started eating sensibly again. Which I swear I’m doing after this one is baked.

But even supposing I do manage to lose all this weight (meaning the baby weight and the chocolate weight I’d gained since we moved), I still won’t know what the hell to wear. Before, I had work clothes (casual with an edge), club clothes (Black, short and/or sparkly) and sweats. Since I’m not going to work outside the home for a while and you couldn’t pay me to go into a club, I’m really lost. I fear matronly clothes and clothes that have to be ironed.  I don’t actually want to wear sweats ALL the time.

Every time I want to look decent, I wear a black shirt, jeans or a denim skirt and black boots. It’s not that I don’t like the outfit, but I’ve been wearing it for five years. I generally hate the outfits I see in fashion magazines. Where should I look for inspiration?

(Don’t ask me why I’m obsessing about this now, when looking like anything but a giant pear is months away.)