some seasonal photos

Thought I'd share some Christmas photos. There are approximately 1000 of them, so I just chose a few at random. I got a large quantity of photos but none of them are particularly great. But you can see their Christmas PJs (courtesy of grandma, of course) and some of their gifts on Christmas morning.








And lest you think I forgot, as promised I finally got around to making Eli a matching hat - a year late and in a different color because I ran out of the original blue, but whatever. I just cast on Andy's, so they will have matching hats this winter after all.

here they are warming up after a trip to the arboretum with dad:

Christmas, blah blah blah.

Those of you know know me well know that I suffer from a chronic and serious dearth of holiday cheer (manic stocking knitting might provide evidence to the contrary, but the truth there is that I just really like to knit). Andy has managed to soften me up to it a little bit over the past several years, and having kids has done some work in that department too - but honestly, my inner core of grinch remains pretty intact. My anti-Christmas ire is complicated and not really worth exploring in this medium, but a Christmas hater like myself is put in a pretty tight spot when kids are involved. There are just certain things you have to do with little kids and I think pretending to be really into Christmas (provided you don't have a good reason to not be into Christmas, like being Jewish) is one of them.

So pretend I will (and do), but I have my limits. I'm not sure if this is the year I'm going to totally enrage everyone by refusing to get into Santa, or if I can put that off until next year. Either way, people will be enraged, you can be certain of that. I don't think Owen is really hip to Santa yet - he does recognize him (unfortunately, he's stopped calling him "Bobby" which he did all last Christmas season, and which I found hillarious) but the whole north pole/toy workshop/round the world in one night/naughty or nice list - I don't think we're there yet. I think we will be next year, and honestly, I just can't picture myself really going with it. I don't mind having Santa be any one of a number of fictional characters that we talk about/read about/watch but I don't see any reason that Santa can't be like Elmo. No one goes to elaborate lengths to convince their kids that Elmo is real, and kids seem to be pretty into Elmo all the same. And I'm pretty sure that my children will still be big fans of Christmas without us acting as if Santa is an actual real person. I'm not planning on denouncing Santa as a fraud, exactly, but the fact that Owen saw me purchase most of what is going in his stocking doesn't bother me one bit. If he has a tacit understanding that the presents he gets on Christmas are actually from me, so much the better, as far as I'm concerned. But then, as we've already discussed, I'm a grinch. A scrooge. Bah, humbug.

So anyway, here we go with the holidays. I'm tired already, and it's not even Christmas Eve. But for those of you with a more normal appreciation of the season, merry merry, happy, happy, cheer cheer, etc. etc. Lots of exciting things happening for Team Cox in 2011, or that's what it looks like from here anyway, and I'm genuinely excited about what's in store. So from our house to yours, enjoy the last few days of 2010 however you celebrate them (or don't), let me know if you didn't get one of our holiday cards and want one, and I'll be back in the new year with more misanthropy (and pictures of cute kids).

Add it to the list of things I did that my kids will never appreciate.

and boy, are my arms tired.

as predicted, Owen is now demanding he actually wants the Santa one. No, the snowman. No, the santa. So for this year, I'll just not put names on them and when he makes a firm decision I'll embroider their names. This year I think assigning stockings just might be asking for trouble. And why I didn't just make them the same, I'll never know. Chalk it up to parenting being a learning process.

and here's a photo of them together:



I really need to put a face on that snowman. But I've tried a couple times and it keeps coming out cruddy. I'll try again, since the santa has a face it looks bad that the snowman doesn't.

Christmas Ambition

So the good news is the stocking I've been knitting for Owen is finally blocked, sewn and finished (except for embroidering his name at the top, which I've been putting off in case he ends up wanting the Santa instead of the snowman). The bad news is that it's now December 1, and Owen's took me a good 2 months to complete. So my suspicion is that in the true second-child fashion, Elias won't have a stocking this year. Oh well. By next year...

edit: after I posted this I looked and the perspective is totally wonky in that picture. The stocking is actually a pretty good size but the foot is not that disproportionately big to the neck. I think it was the angle I took the photo at. Also, the colors look better in person. My phone is not the greatest camera.

Pet Peeves in Parenting, Chapter a billion

One thing that drives me insane is the constant (constant! constant!) offering of snacks to toddlers. If you want to see my head explode, send me an email that says the following:

Hi Moms!
I got this list of people signed up for the 9:15-9:45 movement class on wednesdays. I was wondering if you guys wanted to take turns bringing a snack! just sign up for a week!*

Why must everything involve snacks? It drives me crazy. Today, when I picked up Owen from his Monday class (at the one hour mark they, obviously, break for snack) I was told that he didn't want the apple slices I packed him, but did enjoy the animal crackers that they had, and boy did he eat a lot of those!

Right. So I'm going to explain something to you about kids. Humans, really. The reason Owen did not want his apple was because he was not hungry. the reason he then partook liberally of animal crackers is because animal crackers are cookies. When you offer children cookies, they will eat them. This is really not brain surgery. And of course, Owen came home and proceeded to ignore the (nutritious - or at least better than animal crackers) lunch I prepared for him. surprise, surprise.

Now I am going to say something that is going to make YOUR head explode, so before I begin, let me disclaim it. The following statement applies to my toddler. Yours has hypoglycemia/sensory issues/has a doctors note explaining he can only eat mechanicaly separated chicken. I beleive you. No, really, I believe you. You know all the ways you got your kid sleeping through the night? They don't work on my kid, so trust me when I say I realize that sometimes you just get an outlier.

that said, my kid will largely eat what is placed in front of him at breakfast, lunch and dinner. And I think this is because he is actually hungry at breakfast, lunch and dinner. Because I don't give him a snack every hour on the hour. Which is not to say that I never allow snacks. I think snacks are fine, and I have trouble getting from noon to 6:30pm without one too. But the sheer volume of snacks, and the type of snack provided that seems to be around us all the time is really undermining. Thursdays drive me crazy, because after our (45 minute) music class, without fail, the kids are offered chocolate chip cookies buy the site host. The class ends at 12:15. Seriously, people? So I have 3 options: 1. refuse to let my kid have a cookie when all other children have cookies, thereby being "that mom" and causing my kid to hate me. 2. Allow him to have a cookie, let him then refuse his lunch and endure the tantrum that ensues at 3 because all he's had for lunch is sugar and white flour or 3) go even further down the 'that mom' road and refuse to participate in music classes and/or other contact with the outside world, and homeschool (home music class?) in a safe, snackfree environment.

None of these options are good, are they?

The thing is, there is some food that tastes better than other food. This is just a fact of life. Goldfish tastes better than broccoli. So although I have seen Owen eat broccoli on many occasions, it usually does not happen an hour after he's been offered goldfish. the other day at the playground another mom offered Owen some of the goldfish her kid was eating at 4:30 pm. Of course he's going to take some, and of course he's going to eat a lot of them. Goldfish are extremely tasty crackers. My question is, why are you offering your kid, my kid, ANY KID snacks at 4:30? Unless you eat at 8? And if you do, well, then, see disclaimer above. But dinner for kids is usually around 5:30-6pm. And when MY kid arrives at dinner hungry, my kid will eat whatever is served. And because I would prefer that he eat nutritious food, I get really peeved by snacks.

and yes. I realize that I already am that mom. you don't have to tell me.

* first of all, she's not really wondering. That email means "sign up for a week or be shunned" and second of all, usually someone chimes in with "my kids are allergic to eggs, nuts, dairy and soy so if you could remember that when you pack your snacks I'd really appreciate it :)"

there's a reason housewives used to eat Valium like candy.

Some days, the three of us have great days. The kids get an educational - or at least engaging - activity or two, the house stays reasonably clean, dinner gets made, and no one loses an eye. And some days, days like today, I wonder what the hell I was thinking replacing my blessed daycare lady with...me. Sure, I am technically the mother, but we're living in a world of outsourcing. Why do what I can pay someone else a subpar wage to do? It's worked wonders for corporate America's bottom line.

Anyway, I digress. Actually, I was feeling a bit smug this morning when we left the house at 8:50 am. I had recently recieved an email from Portrait Simple saying if you brought your kids in for thier christmas pictures before September 30th, you would get 50% off your christmas cards. Well, sign me up for that, right? So I was actually congratulating myself as we headed out the door on being a together enough mom that I was actually getting my Christmas cards made...in September! and at 50% off! look at me, mom of the year.

Oh, how we all did laugh.

The pictures were a flop. After 45 minutes of trying to pig wrestle my two (adorable, by the way, but you'd never know it from the photos) kids into some semblance of a passable photo, I gave up. The pictures are actually hysterically funny in their bad-ness. you can check them out yourself at portraitsimple.com (online portraits, search cox, password is 2803). I think I'm going to go ahead and order that one you see mocked up as a holiday card - I think if you can't get a great picture, the only thing to do is to send a flat-out AWFUL picture...sort of a go big or go home holiday card ethos. But the amount of time and trouble the whole endeavor took left me needing a drink by 11.

After the pictures, I decided to head over to watertown to return some shelving for the playroom I had bought from Target the day before. I had bought some shelves for the playroom downstairs - the toys are out of control and we have only an old 3 drawer dresser to contain them - but Andy didn't like it and thought we should get one he saw at Ikea instead. So, fair enough, I troop all the way back to watertown to return them. The dang thing weighs a TON, and I had both kids to wrangle as well, so when I ever finally get all three of us plus the shelving system up to the service desk to find out that somehow I didn't have the recipt....so, moving on. let's say I was annoyed, yes?

Heading back home, now about noon, I get caught in some god-awful construction on arsenal street and end up spending 25 minutes sitting in traffic cursing fate. Normally, Owen would be interested enough in the digger activity to distract him from the car not moving, but he was starving and had to pee. Elias also, (I think, he can't talk) was starving. Either way, I was treated to a meltdown in stereo.

Driving back up Galen street, I pulled into the parking lot of a Bertuccis. I can still save this day, I thought to myself. I'll bring the boys out to lunch, everyone will pee and then we'll head home for a better afternoon. Well, remember the part about the kids having their pictures taken this morning? right. So what were they wearing? right. Matching white button down shirts. NEW. Matching. White. shirts. Bertuccis = pizza place. You do the math.

Feeling duly chastised by the universe, I brought the kids back out to the car.

Which doesn't start.

Yep. Dead battery. Oh, did I mention it was raining? And that I didn't have ths stroller in the car? So we had to walk to a nearby garage (thank God we were relatively near to one) and present our damp, sorry butts to the mechanics there to ask for assitance. After a jump and an assurance that I needed a new battery posthaste, we were finally on our way home.

hubris. It'll get you every time.

say it with me now....

Awwwww.

Owen goes to a Pre-preschool program Monday mornings. It's a drop off class for kids ages 2.5-3.5. It's billed as "preschool readiness" (I know. the insanity). Basically they run around the gym at the y, stand in a line, have a snack, listen to a story, go potty and get picked up 2 hours later. It's great fun for him and he gets to bring a backpack, which is pretty much the highlight of the whole endeavor. Of course, all that's in there is a change of pants and underwear in case he has an accident, but it's the spirit of the thing that counts.

Here's my baby boy growing up before my eyes.

I'm still here!

Once again, I've let my blogging fall by the wayside, but I'm determined to keep up with it - if for no other reason than one thing I know about myself is that I am not the baby book type. Heck, I'm not even the photo album type. Ever since the advent of digital photography every picture I've taken (which are remarkably few - I came back from my honeymoon with 15 pictures. 15. Total) is just in a jumble of files somewhere on this computer with easily archivable names like 1103329m4.jpg. So the blog functions as the baby book I'll wish I had 30 years from now. If they ever, I don't know, cancel the internet or something, I'll just have to go and print it all out beforehand.

So what's new? Nothing, really. Things are great. The kids are GREAT. Forgive me for getting nostalgic but Owen is such a big kid these days it kills me sometimes. He's (forgive my mom bias) smart and funny and remarkably coordinated. He's also 2 and a half, so he has his "moments", as they say, eupehmistically. Overall, however, he has fewer moments than he might have, and those moments he has are pretty funny. Today, I was vaccuming the living room sofa (why? because www.motivatedmoms.com told me to. Laugh all you want, I need structure, dammnit.) and after I unplugged it I let Owen play with it for awhile. When it was time to put it away, he wasn't having it, and yelled at me "you can't touch this! it's too dangerous! you have to be safe!" when that didn't work and I proceeded to continue putting the vacuum away he protested "don't touch that! it's really expensive! you might break it!" I find that my biggest parenting challenge these days is keeping a straight face.

Elias remains a joyful, snuggly pile of baby love. He is the most good natured and charming baby I've ever come across. When I was pregnant with Owen a coworker told me her 'decoy baby' theory. She said when you get a baby that is really easy and smily and laid back, you must be on high alert, because that baby is dangerous. He or she is a decoy baby. You'll be convinced that you should have 10 more babies - or at least another one. And when you do, that next one will have 10 months of colic, guaranteed. Eli is absolutely the most devilish decoy baby there ever was. I'm ready for a conversion van full of Elis. I am aware, however, that another Owen would probably cause total system failure, so I am able to keep my head about me in these matters.

I've gotten the swing of my new schedule and it's going well. We're packed with activities: We have something every day in the mornings. On Mondays, Owen goes to a 2 hour program at the Y called "kids club" which is really just running around the gymnasium like a maniac with 9 other 2 year olds. On tuesdays, he has swim lessons. Wednesdays, we joined a rotating-house toddler playgroup. Thursdays, we have our music class at the local Alzheimer's center (it sounds odd but is actually awesome. Both the kids and the patients adore it) and Fridays we go to public skating at the ice arena down the street. In the afternoons, we generally try to do playdates. all these activities alleviate my biggest fear about staying home, which was that I'd be trapped in my messy house going nuts with the kids bouncing off the walls, but really we're hardly home at all.

So in sum, I'm back to blogging and have resolved to do a better job of it. If I don't start updating twice a month or so, feel free to pester me.

Time is flying.

So you (I) probably thought that since I'm now only working part time in the evenings, I'd have plenty of time to stay on top of the blog, keep up with email communications, keep my house sparkling clean, and pick up quilting. Well, you (I) would be totally wrong (just kidding about the house cleaning thing. I might yet pick up quilting, but it'll be a cold day in hell before my house is sparkling clean while Owen still lives in it). I'm finding I'm busier these days than I've ever been, and compounded by the working till midnight thing 4 days a week, I'm pretty tired. I have to say, though, of all the permutations of work-life balance we've tried so far, this is by far the best one. True, I could use a little more sleep. But I really think that eliminating just one element from my life - the daycare drop off and pickup and related stress about timing, etc. - has made a huge difference in my stress level. Things just seem so much easier now, late nights notwithstanding.
So anyway, a few quick updates (and sorry no pictures, the problem is that I usually blog on the computer we don't upload the pictures to, so in order to put up pictures I have to a) remember to update the blog and then b) remmeber to update it from the other computer. apparently a 2 step process is now beyond me. I blame the kids.)

1) potty training. we're done. that's a wrap, it was over in a week. Don't ask me how, because I had nothing to do with it - it was Owen's idea, and now he's a pro. He even is waking up dry in the morning, although I'm nervous about pulling the plug on the nighttime diaper and am keeping him in one now just in case, but I think another week of dry mornings and I'll let that go too. Don't ask me for any potty training advice, because I have none - all I know is that the kid decided he was done with diapers and that was it.

2) Our vacation. I'm not a paid shill for Smuggler's Notch family resort, but I'd be happy to be one (note to smuggs, you listening?) It was awesome. We had a condo, which relieved the two major reservations I have about vacations - the first being the need to eat out all the time, and the second the lack of laundry facilities. The fully equipped kitchen in the condo was the key to vacation success, in my opinion. I only like to go out to eat when what I'm really doing is going out to drink - I think it's fun to get dressed up, go someplace trendy, and order a $17 martini. I do NOT think it's fun to get food out just because I'm hungry. I'd rather buy a powerbar at a gas station and be done with it. And I'd rather have my toenails extracted than go out to dinner more than once in a week with 2 kids under 3. So the kitchen solved that problem and saved us a ton of money as well. And the laundry - well, again I mention we were travelling with 2 kids under 3. Do you know how much laundry they can generate in a week? Coming home with a suitcase full of clean and folded clothes felt like a vacation in and of itself. Beyond that, the place was just really well done for families. We spend 4 days with the kids and 3 days without, which was the perfect balance and everyone had fun the whole time. And for what we got, it was extremely affordable. I highly recommend it and if you want more details, please ask because I'm happy to shill away.

3) Being home during the day - or, as someone recently put it to me - so have you 3 killed each other yet? Surprisingly, no. We're all having a really good time. Part of me was kind of anxious about making the transition to home full time, and to be honest I was secretly reserving the option to put Owen back in half time daycare if I couldn't handle it, but it's actually turned out great. The one problem I've found is that we're certainly not lacking in places to go and things to do, but if we're on the go all the time Elias naps for crap. If we stay home all day, he takes 2 beautiful 2 hour naps in his crib from about 9-11 and again from 2-4, and then goes down at 7:30 and sleeps really well all night. But if we're out and about on the go, he catnaps here and there and is cranky and paradoxically up more in the night. Most of the time I say screw the naps (I'm exhausted anyway, what's a little less sleep at this point, right?) and we've filled our days, but the days we've been home have been really good for Eli's sleep. I'm still trying to work this one out.

So that's about all the news. I'll try and post pictures soon.

Potty Update

because I know you're waiting with baited breath:

dry all day. No accidents. Still not down with #2, this apparently still requires a diaper. But hey - not a single pee accident? really? that HAS to be a good thing.

I'm still in shock. Do kids really potty train themselves?

the mind, it boggles.

we had a great vacation - I will post about it in detail and with pictures later. But first, I simply must share this news: Last night around 8:30 Owen announced that he needed to use the potty. We pretty much ignored him, but he insisted. He walked over to the potty and started pulling off his diaper. So to humor him, Andy took it off. He peed.

He got up this morning, and did it again. And again. And again. In fact, he has not been in a diaper ALL DAY at this writing (4:51pm) and has had exactly one accident.

I have no idea what happened, but I think this is a very, very, very good thing.

What do we do without daycare?

Why, we go to the cemetary. Of course. Isn't that what all the stay at home moms do?

My new schedule has begun - the new schedule being that I'm working 6pm-12 am Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. A pretty nice schedule for a working mom, (although admittedly not a great one if you want any sort of social life) and although the job is a bit on the boring side, it's compensated well enough and can be done from home. How can you argue with that? for the first time in 2 years none of the money I earn will be going to daycare, which is pretty fantastic. And the kids and I will now have plenty of quality time together which is....well, we'll see. Right now we're going with that's fantastic too. In case of emergency, I still have our daycare provider on speed dial.

Anyway, back to the cemetary. I was thinking that the kids and I should do something fun today, and figured there'll be plenty of time for me to yell at them to go find something to do while I watch soap operas. So I came up with a few ideas: there are 3 things Owen loves more than anything - games that involve balls, making a mess, and animals. I figured we could play baseball for awhile, cook something, and do something involving wildlife.

We had a bag of stale bread Andy was throwing away and I realized that we could take it to a duck pond and feed the ducks with it. But the only duck pond I know of is at Newton Cemetary. So, this afternoon, (after playing baseball in the backyard and making banana bread) that's where we went. FYI: those ducks are a toddler dream. They are the tamest creatures on the planet, and will come up within inches of a bread-proffering toddler. (they are, however, smart enough to shake a tailfeather when they sense the toddler is going to try and touch them). Owen had an awesome time feeding the ducks our stale brioche. And, really, turns out a graveyard is an excellent place to spend an afternoon. There's very little car traffic (and what there is is slow moving), there's plenty of open space to run around and explore, and, well, you're really not bothering anyone. I mean, really. The inhabitants of Newton Cemetary are probably the most toddler-tolerant folks out there, if you know what I'm saying.

Anyway, a good time was had by all, but I'm kind of out of ideas. I feel like I went and outdid myself and now have to figure out what I'm going to fill up all the time between now and preschool with. When do ducks head south for the winter, Octoberish? I'll need to figure it out by then.....

Assembling my mom portfolio

Since it is a not-very-well-kept secret around here that I frequently toss Owen a few slices of deli turkey and an apple and call it dinner (which is a big improvement on the times he gets a nutrigrain bar and a yogurt)I thought I would submit some photographic evidence that mealtimes are not a complete mom fail all the time around here.







It's egg train toast!On a scale of 1 to original, it's definitely a -3 but Owen seemed impressed. He even said "chugga chugga chugga chugga CHOO CHOO!" which is high praise from a 2 year old. He then of course proceeded to eat one bite and announce he was all done. Oh well. It was fun to make, anyway.

New Family Photos

Sadly, I can't post them, because I don't own them. But, if you'd like to see the professional photos we had taken today, you can go to www.portraitsimple.com click on "atrium" location and then click "online portraits" we should come right up. The password is 2803. It's going to ask you for a name and email address - all that does is add you to their mailing list so to avoid having to do that, just put in my name and email.

I think they do a really nice job at portrait simple, given that it's a mall chain. I get a little annoyed when they try do whatever their seasonal schtick is (right now it's red sox, at valentine's day it was rose petals, easter it was bunnies etc.) but then when they talk me into just letting them do the shots and I see the results, I always think it's cute. Given how into baseball Owen is, the ones with the ball are particularly appropos.

I didn't buy very many because they're expensive, but also because I seize up when I have to choose prints. I love them ALL. How can I choose? So I end up fearing I'll buy the wrong one, and don't want to have buyers remorse, so I don't buy any. So, I'll put it to you: which ones do you think I should buy?

Team Cox Win

We implemented the plan Dr. Ferber sent home with us, with one small modification - we tried a 9pm bedtime instead of 10pm. This is because one time, Owen had the worst day in the history of his life - honestly a 12 hour meltdown, and I'm not exaggerating - and the only thing we could determine was different on that day from other days was that he had been up until 10pm the night before. So we're a bit gunshy on that front. However, we did everything else in the incredibly detailed plan for the past two nights: the suggested nightime routine, the baby gate protocol, the checking schedule. And amazingly, (amazingly!) both of our children slept 1)in their respective assigned beds 2) all the way until morning (which for Eli was 5:40am, but hey I'll take it because he went down at 7:30) 3) in the same room. Major win! I am a happy mom this morning. We're building good-schedule momentum here, I can feel it.

The Famous Dr. Ferber

yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. It's been awhile. Frankly, my blogging has succumbed to faraway friend syndrome. You know how it goes - you have a close friend you don't see often. You try and talk regularly, maybe once or twice a month. But then things get busy and a couple months go by, and you keep thinking to yourself "oh, I have just GOT to call so and so". But then you realize you only have about 10 minutes, and that's not nearly enough time to catch up, so you put it off until you have "enough time". Then they call you, but you're just about to run in to an appointment, and you really want to chat for an hour but will have to get off the phone in in five minutes, so you send the call to voicemail....before you know it, you haven't talked to your friend in a year.

It's kind of like that. So, I've decided to just pickup where we are now, and if months 2 and 3 of Eli's life are lost to posterity, so be it.

Anyway, today Owen and I went to Children's Hospital for our appointment with Dr. Ferber. It's not every day you meet a world renowned child-rearing expert who's last name has turned into a verb in common parlance, so I figured it was worth blogging about. We certainly didn't leave with a silver bullet for Owen's sleep problems - it was more of an intake than anything else. Turns out working with Dr. Ferber is more of a process than one stop shopping. In retrospect, I should have realized this - what did I think he was going to do, give me a sleeping potion?

Before I go on, I have to tell this little Dr. Ferber story. A friend of a friend of mine works at Children's. She signed up for the same post-pregnancy core strengthening class as I am taking, and last Monday after class I mentioned we had this appointment with Ferber. She told me that one time, she was at an all-hospital event of some sort, and she was seated next to Dr. Ferber. When she realized who he was, she started talking immediately about her 6 month old, his sleep habits, what they had already tried, etc. She said that Dr. Ferber turned to her with a tired, bored look and said "Really, I don't...." he did not finish the sentence but apparently it was quite clear that the final word in that sentence was "care." And he referred her to his book.

So, yeah. Our appointment was a bit like that.

On the one hand, I see where he's coming from. He didn't say anything that isn't clearly deliniated in his book, which I have in fact read cover-to-cover twice and consult on an as-needed basis often. He probably spends 90% of his time telling parents with exactly the same problem the exact same things for the past 20 years. And by the same problem, I mean, they didn't read his book. He probably IS pretty bored. He's a board-certified pediatric neurologist, and his main function is telling parents to put their kids to bed later and stop giving them a drink of water if they wake up overnight.

On the other, being as we have read his book, and have been implementing the techniques faithfully for the better part of a year, I was a little disappointed. His message to me was that we just weren't following the directions in the book closely enough, because if we were, Owen wouldn't still be having sleep problems. Well, maybe. It's true, he did identify some small areas in which we were being inconsistent, and he did show me a pretty interesting chart explaining the amount of total sleep a child of a given age needs in a 24 hour period. But still, I think Owen's sleep problems are pretty resistant.

Ultimately, Dr. Ferber gave us a chart to record every minute of sleep/awake time Owen had for the next six weeks along with directions to keep a sleep log/journal about what we did, what he did, and how he slept. We're to go back at the end of June and he'll look at the charts, assess the situation, and I guess we'll go from there.

In the meantime, he suggests a bedtime for my 2 year old of 10pm. This seems wild and crazy to me, but he claims that most people wildly overestimate the amount of sleep children need and a 10pm bedtime is perfectly normal. Given that about 90% of my friends with kids are putting them to bed by 8 at the latest, this seems a bit suspect to me, but I guess Dr. Ferber would know.

After all, he did, well, write the book.

I'm sorry. I'm doing a terrible job of blogging lately. But I did think this picture was cute and wanted to share:

 

bloggy?

Why no blogging? I know the 6 people who check in with Team Cox regularly are getting impatient. With double the Cox-spawn trouble, and nothing to do all day since I'm still on maternity leave (ha, ha, ha), there's really no excuse. Especially because in the blogging hiatus, Owen has turned two (repeatedly, judging by the number of times it's been celebrated) Eli has grown massive (I have a 7 week old that needs size three diapers. No, I'm not kidding. Size THREE.), and the weather has finally improved giving the three of us the opportunity to spend more time doing fun things outside, like riding bikes and falling head first off the big slide at the playground (mom note to self: don't beleive the propaganda. 2 is not reeaaly such a big boy afterall). So anyway, my apologies. First blogging impediment is that we've misplaced the cord that can upload pictures from the camera to the computer. We misplaced it in one of our frantic "people are coming over, CLEAN UP THE HOUSE NOW!" fits and can't seem to figure out where we stashed it. And second, 2 kids is HARD, yo. By the time I get both in clean diapers and dressed int the morning, well, it's time to change the diapers again. And all three of us need a nap.

Anyway, I haven't forgotten about the blog, I'm just a little behind. Hopefully I'll be able to catch up soon.

numbers

Today, Eli is exactly:

4 weeks old
12 lbs, 4 oz
23 1/2 inches long
100th percentile for weight
100th percentile for height

He's a whopper, folks. Dr. Y said, "Wow! Big! More big than his brother! I don't know what to tell you. This is not normal. It's good! healthy! Big boys! but not normal. Next time you have a baby I will not be surprised when he is 15 pounds after 1 month!"

Next time I have one month old 15 pound baby, well, I'll let you know when that'll be. Don't hold your breath, though.

Thanks for the help, honey

If whatever form the internet is taking when Owen is 15 has the capacity to access such primitive technology as we have today, I'm sure Owen will kill me for putting this photo on the internet. However, it is just TOO FUNNY not to share. Yesterday morning I was changing the baby in the boys' bedroom, and I heard from the kitchen "turn on? turn on. turn on, mommy'. I couldn't figure out what Owen wanted me to turn on, but assumed he was mucking around with the oven, or worse, had climbed up on the counter and had gotten to the microwave. Imagine my suprise when I came into the kitchen and found that the appliance he wanted to me to turn on was my pump:




I have news for you, kid. The reason it's not working has nothing to do with it not being turned on.

I'm writing this post completely exhausted. Eli started out life as a fantastic sleeper (for a newborn) but has figured out the score: why sleep for extended periods of time, when you can hang with mom and nurse all you want? I recognize the limitations of working with a newborn on sleep, but I'm determined to do what I can to foster good (read: independent) sleep habits from the beginning. So, from today on, Eli's moving out of mom and dad's room and into...I haven't decided where. At first I was thinking straight into the crib in the room with Owen, but today I'm thinking actually I'm going to put him in the living room for a couple weeks. This has two purposes: first, not to bother Owen, who is (believe it or not) sleeping through the night reasonably well right now, and second, to allow me not to have to use the monitor. Having the baby right next to the bed keeps me up all night because babies are loud, even when they don't need anything. And the baby monitor is just as loud. If he's in the living room and our bedroom door is open, I'll hear him when he's really crying but, because of the white noise of our humidifier, I won't hear him when he is just fussing around or talking to himself. I'm also going to take a hard line with the all night mom-buffet. Eli is the size of your average 3 month old right now, so there is no reason, none at all, that he would need to eat any more frequently than 3 hours (and that's being generous). Owen I really did let nurse 'on demand' but Eli will only get that privelege during the day. I'm also trying to figure out if strategically deploying a bottle (which we need to introduce soon anyway, so as not to have a daycare disaster on our hands) can help discourage nighttime eating and encourage nighttime sleeping. This is a work in progress, and clearly I have a lousy track record, but we'll see how it goes.

Uncle

I am still a staunch cloth diaper advocate, and after having invested in a full set of cloth diapers birth through toddlerhood I'm not about to give up and buy disposeables now. However, there is a limit when it comes to handling and laundering diapers, and I think I have reached it. 2 kids in cloth is one kid too many. So, this weekend the project is potty training. I got one of those 70's style "potty train in just one day" books, which promises me that 'any child of normal intelligence over 20 months can be quickly and happily trained, in an average of 4 hours'. I like the authors' style here: see what they've done? If the method doesn't work, it's not the program that's at fault, it's your kid, who is obviously cognitively impaired. Very crafty.

Anyway, who knows if it will work or not, but it's worth a try. Potty adventures commence. here we go...

No, really. Three weeks. Not even.

A woman leaned over the bucket seat on the stroller today to peer at Eli while I was in AC Moore shopping for picture frames. "How old is your baby?" she asked me. "three weeks" I replied. Technically, he'll be three weeks on Wednesday, but whatever. Close enough. She looked closer at Eli. "Oh, I don't think so." She said. "are you sure?"

Am I sure? Am I sure about how old my kid is? What a weird thing to say.

Yes, I'm sure. He's 19 days old.

He just looks like he's 3 months:

 

 

 

 

 

Stage Parent

 

Yesterday afternoon I took Owen ice skating for the first time, to give him a chance to use the ice skates we bought him for christmas. It was a very surprising experience for me - usually I think my expectations are pretty in line with what is actually going to happen when it comes to Owen. For instance, when we go to the mall, I anticipate an hour of frustrated mom chasing Owen around, paying for broken merchandise, and dealing with eardrum shattering tantrums. I'm a realist. However, for some reason this generally accurate sense of life with a toddler did not extend to ice skating. For some reason, in my head, I had this idea that we were going to go to the ice skating rink, I would spend 20 minutes teaching Owen how to ice skate, and then he and I sould spend the afternoon gliding around the rink hand in hand.

So, that didn't really happen. Owen lasted approximately 4 1/2 minutes on the ice, 2 of which he spent crying to Daddy on the sidlines to let him get off. Turns out, it takes a little more than 10 minutes and a mother's love of ice skating to get a not-quite-two year old whipping around the rink. After I gave up in defeat, and we were walking back to the car, Andy volunteered that he thought it went well. After all, Owen let me put the ice skates on him without protest, enjoyed walking around the rubber mat area with them on, wore his helmet without protest and enjoyed the cup of hot chocolate he got. My first reaction was "Went well? It was a disaster!" My visions of having the next Brian Orser (I mean, Wayne Gretzky!) on my hands had been dashed. It was then that I got an inkling that perhaps my expectations were a tad out of line.

Anyway, the good news is, Owen has been talking nonstop about ice skating since we got home, and has spent the last 2 1/2 hours begging me to take him this morning. So all is not lost! Hell be Elvis Stoijko (I mean Patrick Roy! really!) before we know it!

 

Eli comes home

Owen giving his new brother a kiss...



and a hug...



Eli's had enough loving for one day. Owen looks a bit surprised.

Welcome home baby!

Introducing Elias Andrew Cox

So Eli is finally here. (By the way, to clear up what is obviously a bit confusing, no - there is not a strange, geographical cluster of children named Elias in my neighborhood. When we decided to name him Elias we figured we'd call him Eli for short. Then I discovered a crapton of kids named Eli, and that's what prompted the earlier posts.) He arrived on January 27th at 7:43 pm weighing a whopping 9lbs, 4 oz and measuring over 22 inches. He's a big guy, but as Andy rightly points out, he kind of needs to be given his brother's temperament. I felt somewhat justified in being as miserable as I was toward the end of the pregnancy when they told me how big he was. At 5'3'' I'm no Amazon. I'm amazed he managed to fit in there for as long as he did.

We arrived home from the hospital today. Unfortunately, I was not successful in bringing Eli into the world in the normal manner, so like his brother before him he was born by C-section. There are several regular readers of this blog who I have not managed to talk to yet, and I'm sure that I'll be asked to explain what happened several times over so I've decided to just put the birth story up here, to avoid the repeated retelling. It's pretty upsetting for me, because I tried really, really hard to avoid a repeat surgical birth. I took a VBAC class, I hired a doula, I dumped my original OB practice and switched to a practice of midwives with a 70-80% success rate with VBAC deliveries, I read every book on the subject I could find....and I still ended up in an OR.

The short version of the story is that I developed a fever after an hour of pushing that kept creeping up, and the midwife and the ob on call began to worry that I had a uterine infection. The fact that my water had been broken for over 12 hours didn't work in my favor. Eli's heartbeat started to react to my elevated temperature, and the OB said that it wouldn't be safe, given that their efforts to bring my fever down had failed, and given that they didn't know for sure if I had an infection or what kind I had and whether or not the baby was currently being exposed to infection, to have him remain undelivered for any more than a half hour. Also, since his heart rate was hitting 190-200during contractions in response to the fever, they were worried that he was becoming distressed. Based on his position - he was in a terrible birth position, face up and with his head cocked to the side - the midwife estimated it would take 2 hours or more of the pushing phase to get him out, and that he was still too high in the birth canal to make a vacuum or forceps delivery possible to comply with the 1/2 hour deadline. The OB told me that in her opinion, there was zero chance of me being able to deliver him within 30 minutes no matter how hard I pushed or what assistance they used, so I agreed to stop trying and I got sent into surgery. The worst part about it was that because this time it was an 'emergency' rather than just a plain old this-labor-isn't-going-anywhere-and-I'm-bored situation, they took Eli immediately up the special care nursery for his antibiotics before I could even hold him. I didn't get him back until almost 8 hours later. With Owen, I got to hold him while they were wheeling me into recovery and start feeding him before they had even taken the spinal out.

Later, after it was over, another one of the midwives in the practice (not the one that was there to deliver me) came to talk about the outcome. I thought that was really nice of them to send her, actually. When they have a failed VBAC, they send someone in to process what happened with you. She went over the whole chart with me, reading the notes entered by the nurses, midwives and doctors. When she got to the note where the doctor wrote that she didn't feel a delivery would be possible, I jokingly asked "and is that the part of the chart where it notes 'patient went psycho?'?" She laughed, but I notice she didn't really say no. I did kind of go a teeny bit psycho when it became obvious that I was not going to be successful. I know there are a lot of people who are mystified by how important it was to me to not have another C-section, and it's hard to really explain why but it just was. Besides my emotional investment in the whole issue, there was the entire problem of caring for a toddler and a newborn after surgery, which is about as bad as I feared it would be. Recovering from a C-section with your first baby sucks, but is ultimately not that bad. Recovering from one when your two year old wants to jump on you, be picked up, run around and play, and needs to be lifted about 50 times a day just to perform essential life functions REALLY sucks.

Ultimately, after 'processing' the whole experience for a few days, I've come to the conclusion that the problem lay in my decision to get the epidural. My research, and input from one of the pediatricians in Owen's doctors' group, indicates that while it's possible that I had a uterine infection (we will never know - both Eli and I were treated immediately with IV antibiotics and they don't bother finding out unless after the 48 hour course of antibiotics there is still presence of infection, at which time they figure out what it is and treat it further) I think it's more likely that the epidural was responsible for raising my body temperature to mimic a fever. And Eli's heartrate was elevated in response to my elevated temperature, not an infection of the amniotic fluid. Had I been able to go without the drugs, I would have a) probably had him much faster and b) probably would have been successful.

I'm dissapointed in myself that I caved and got the drugs (and so quickly, at that. Once my contractions were 2 minutes apart and more than 45 seconds long they said "how do you feel about getting some pain reli..." and I said "NEEDLE. IN MY BACK. DO IT.") I didn't even try to stick it out, really. And to that I have to say that it really was that bad. I'm not sure, that if you put me in that much pain again, right now, and you said that it was a do-over, but that if I accepted pain relief I would end up with a surgery FOR SURE but if I didn't take it I wouldn't have to have one, I'm not sure I would have been able to turn it down, even then. Because in that moment, I couldn't handle it. None of the techniques they went over in any of the two childbirth classes I took, nor the presence of the doula (who was amazing by the way - never go to a birth without one) helped me resist. So am I happy I tried? I don't know. I think I'm too sad about the whole thing to really be happy I tried. Given the outcome, I almost wish I hadn't, because then I maybe wouldn't be so dissapointed.

Ultimately, however, I just need to get over the whole thing. But that's not going to happen today, or frankly probably this year. It's very unlikely that I'll have a third birth experience, and if I do, there's almost a 100% chance it will be a scheduled c-section with no chance of a trial of labor before hand.

Luckily for me, I now have two beautiful and healthy children, so ultimately how they came into the world doesn't matter. And that is the last depressing word I have on the subject. From here forward, nothing but adorable pictures of Owen in his "I'm a big brother' t-shirt holding Eli (who is screaming his head off) for the first time. Stay tuned for those, tomorrow.

false alarm.

Today was just awful. I went to TJMaxx this morning to pick up a spare set of sheets for Owen's bed - having only one set of sheets for a toddler, as we found out at 3am two nights ago, is a poor idea indeed. While I was in the store, I started having contractions, stronger than the ones I've been having all week and slightly closer together. Pleased, I went home and waited a couple hours. The contractions got a little closer together - about 8 minutes apart - and a little stronger, and I started to be pretty uncomfortable. finally! I was sure, being due tomorrow and everything, that I'd be at Newton-Wellesley right now, not sitting on my couch putting up a blog post.

But guess where I am. Yes, sitting on my couch, putting up a blog post.

I had an appointment with the midwife today at 2:30 anyway, so I called the office around noon, told them what was happening, and asked if I should still come in or wait at home for things to pick up. (at this point, I was completely convinced I was actually in labor, to the point where I had called Andy to come home from work, called our doula, and activated the Owen-backup plan). They said come in provided the contraction activity didn't ramp up to the point where I needed to go to the hospital. So in I went, and they put me on the monitor to see what was going on. Things looked promising at first: 'ooh' said the nurse. "Nice contractions right there, you see? looks good." Then the midwife came in and did her exam.

Results: Nada. Zip. Zero progress. Mind you, at this point I had been contracting not only for almost 6 hours, but on and off periodically for the past WEEK. And I am dilated to a....zero. I'm not even at a stage of readiness where I can safely be induced. I could hardly believe it, and the midwife didn't have much comforting to say besides that this sort of thing just happens. The contractions are real, they're just not nescessarily productive. She confirmed my web md self diagnosis of prodromal labor and said not to feel bad, because it can be really hard to tell the difference between prodromal labor and the real thing, but it was a little late to not feel bad. So, with Andy and Owen home in the middle of the day and all systems go for baby having, we...didn't. have a baby, that is.

What we did do was sit around for the rest of the afternoon while I continued to have contractions and cried my eyes out, because the likelihood of me having a baby this weekend now looks pretty low. Or next week, for that matter. They did offer me a c-section, first on Wednesday, and then later in the afternoon the midwife called and said there was an opening on Monday, if I wanted it. I turned it down, because the whole point of this dag pregnancy was to avoid another c-section, but now I'm starting to wonder if I did the right thing. My time off from work is ticking away, and due to the activation of my short term disability already I can't really go back to work on Monday and be all "just kidding! gonna keep working after all. disregard that letter my doctor faxed you last week saying I couldn't anymore." As far as my company is concerned, medical leave is medical leave - they don't care whether the baby has come or not, and I only get so much. Every day I'm out with no baby is a day I can't be with baby.

Basically, we're still waiting. They told me at the appointment today that February 3 is the latest date they're willing to wait - if I'm still pregnant at that point (10 days past my due date) they'll induce if that's possible at that time or do a c-section if it's still not. I don't know what's more depressing: having a c-section two weeks from now when I could have just had one Monday and been done with it, or the thought of still being pregnant in FEBRUARY.

sigh. yep, today was not the greatest of days. and the worst part is, I'm still having the dammned contractions every 15 minutes or so.

maybe tomorrow will be better.

tiiiiiiime....goes by......so slowly........

So, no baby yet. I've spent the week waiting around for contractions to begin, and although they've begun a number of times, they never really get legs. I'll have contractions for say, three hours about 15 minutes apart, but they never get any closer together and they never get any stronger. The internet tells me this is 'prodromal labor'. My own personal term for it isn't polite and shouldn't be put on a family friendly blog.

It strikes me as cosmically unfair that a woman who goes into labor at 37 weeks is considered just as normal as one who goes in to labor at 42 weeks. Friends, that is a 5 WEEK difference. 5 WEEKS. If that doesn't sound absurdly long to you, then I can only conclude you have never been 9 months pregnant. 5 weeks is over a month. 5 weeks might as well be a century. And the really crappy thing is, because you know there are people that have babies at 37 weeks - I personally know three - as soon as you hit that magic milestone you start thinking 'well, maybe I'll go early.' And other women know about the 37 week thing, so they start telling you 'any time now!'. The 'any time now' is particularly galling, because you start to believe it, and then every day is excruciatingly long. While we're on the subject, I swear that if I hear the following one more time I am not responsible for my actions:
"the baby will come when he's ready!" this has to be the number one most annoying thing said to pregnant women, ever. Trust me when I tell you that if you've ever said this, the woman you said it to might have smiled and nodded, but she was secretly thinking "I hate you." And for some reason, people always feel the need to tell you this as if they personally are the keeper of maternity knowledge. As if pregnant women were walking around with the misguided idea that they had some control over when the baby came, or that on the first day of the 40th week a timer would ding and the baby would be delivered fully cooked.

Anyway, there's really nothing to report, other than (as is probably obvious from the above) I'm a bit cranky these days. Hopefully I'll have good news soon, because, you know,

Any time now!

Crafty Mama

Andy has lots of good husband qualities, and one of them is that he is an excellent gift giver. While certainly not a required characteristic when looking for a mate for life, it sure makes things nice. Anyway, one of the things he got me for Christmas (I will note that the other one was a diamond bracelet: I'm sure he wants credit on the internet for that too) was a gift certificate to take a class at a craft store that I am obsessed with called The Stitch House in Dorchester. I know what you're thinking - Dorchester? - yep, Dorchester. Turns out Dorchester is gentrifying fast and the little neighborhood this store is in is full of pricey condos and cute bakeries and boutiques. And also, a super awesome craft store. Anyway, I spend way too much money there on yarn as it is, but they have tons of classes, workshops and clubs that I've never quite made it to. And while I do enjoy knitting a great deal, I don't find it particularly challenging. Knitting projects stop getting more interesting at a certain point and just get bigger. Not that I'm going to stop knitting any time soon, just that recently I've started eyeing new frontiers of different crafts. I've been dying to learn to sew for ages, and even had taken an adult ed class a couple years ago, but Owen kind of derailed my learning endeavor. So to give me something to do while I wait for this baby to arrive, I signed up with my gift certificate to the Saturday Sew Intensive, which meets two Saturdays in a row, 4 hours each. They offer it pretty much every month, and if you're interested I HIGHLY reccommend you go. I'd like to take it again - there were several people in my class today who were taking it for the second or third time. Basically, you pick a pattern and some fabric and bring it, and the instructor helps you figure out what you're doing. In the spirit of being 9 months pregnant, I bought a baby outfit pattern (hat, jacket, pants, booties) and some fleece. I finished the pants and got about 1/2 way through the jacket, leaving the jacket details (side seams, collar, cuffs and hemmed edges) as well as the hat and booties for next Saturday (provided I don't have a baby before then). Look!



I'm pretty excited about it, actually. It was a lot of fun and I learned an amazing amount in 4 hours. I can't wait to try my hand at more projects.

Thanks, Andy :)