I get a little email with stats emailed to me every Tuesday. I can't remember when or how I signed up to make this happen but I assume that at the time I thought it would tell me somthing about who reads my blog. It actually doesn't really tell me very much, just the geographic location of where my blog is accessed from. What's interesting to me is that the few people who seem to regularly read my blog I honestly cannot figure out how I might know them. There is one person (hi, whoever you are!) who reads my blog every time I update it from Canada. I have thought and thought and simply don't know a single person in Canada. On the other extreme, my own parents and husband do not read this blog, so I'm somewhat amused that there are people that don't even know me reading my posts.
Anyway, all this just sort of randomly to say that although I'm under the impression that almost no one reads my blog (and I still think this is largely true - I'm wondering if a lot of the blog 'hits' I get are from web bots or some other not-real source) I actually get over 200 page views a week. Again, people who actually know me (with some exceptions) tend not to read my blog, so I have no idea who you guys are - but whatever, if you like visiting my blog, great! that leads me into my real reason for musing about blog traffic....
I haven't had the greatest luck driving donations through facebook (again, trying to hit up people I know) so I thought I'd give it a stab with people I don't know! Hey all you anonymous internet friends....I'm glad you're here. Now that you are here, please take a look at my cute pictures and unoriginal thoughts on being a parent and while you're at it, could you please donate some money to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? I'm trying to reach my goal of raising $2000 by October 2nd for the mission and I'm 80% of the way to my goal. If all of the 200 people that stop by here in a week donated $20 I'd be there! Your gift goes directly to patient services and research, is tax-deductible, and I really hope you can find a few spare dollars to donate. I am participating in an event with team in training in october (a half marathon in maine) which is the impetus for me raising this money, but the race is neither here nor there - the important part is helping LLS reach their fundraising goals. You can donate here: http://pages.teamintraining.org/ma/maine11/jcoxpa, and feel free to tell your friends!
If you don't feel like donating, but you do feel like introducting yourself, please do. especially my canadian friend. You've been with me since the beginning....here's your shout out. But a curious blogger wants to know...who are you? and will you make a donation to cancer research?
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Well, we're here.
I'm trying to be positive. I'm really trying. And believe me, that's not my usual MO - my ability to see the glass half empty is long and well documented. But since even I can figure out that refusing to give it a chance out here will end badly, I'm forcing myself to look on the brightside.
So, the brightside:
It really is beautiful here. There's a reason people buy second homes and take their vacations here - the scenery is pretty spectactular. Among the dozens of reasons I'm bummed that my camera broke is because I'd like to post some pictures to illustrate my point, but I'm sure your imaginations will suffice.
There's a pretty endless number of places for the boys to explore - between the abundance of state parks, rail trials, mountains, valleys, and all the cultural stuff the Berkshires has to offer (which is, suprisingly to me, a lot) it's not like there's nothing to do. Plus, we have a 5 acre backyard with a stream running through it, which so far has pretty much fit the bill as far as they're concerned.
You can get more house for your dollar out here. When we're ready to buy our next place (which may be sooner, rather than later, since our rental isn't really working out as well as we'd hoped) we'll be able to get a nicer house for less money.
For obnoxious food police like us - hey, it's true - this place is a heaven. We live down the road from the adorably named 'pigasso farms' which sells natural and pastured beef, chicken, pork and lamb and free range eggs. In addition to Piggaso, which is just the closest, there are I think three others on the 27 miles of rt 22 between here and the pike. There is a farmer's market with local and organic produce on pretty much every corner, and I'm loving the roadside stands with produce where you just put your money in a box. In the winter, of course, the fresh produce options will be less, but there are still some farms that make a committment to year round produce. there are several dairies we can buy direct from. It makes me feel less depressed that the nearest grocery store is 35 minutes from here, because the remaining things I need to get at a grocery store can be condensed into trips I can stretch out to two weeks or so.
There's no traffic. At least not around us. This is nice, especially coming from Boston. I can get 37 miles in about the time it used to take Andy to go 8, from Cambridge to home. On the negative side, of course, is the monstrous amount of gas we're going through. From someone who put less than 6000 miles on her car last year, this is a total culture shock. Drive 22 minutes to get to the playground? are you kidding me?? but people around here think that's nothing.
In terms of the bad things...well - you know, I think I'll just leave off here and try and focus on the good. Because of course I could go on and on (and on and on!) about what I don't like, but I think the wise advice to "bloom where you're planted" is appropriate here. Focus on the positive and eventually you'll actually feel positively, right? At least that's the plan!
So, the brightside:
It really is beautiful here. There's a reason people buy second homes and take their vacations here - the scenery is pretty spectactular. Among the dozens of reasons I'm bummed that my camera broke is because I'd like to post some pictures to illustrate my point, but I'm sure your imaginations will suffice.
There's a pretty endless number of places for the boys to explore - between the abundance of state parks, rail trials, mountains, valleys, and all the cultural stuff the Berkshires has to offer (which is, suprisingly to me, a lot) it's not like there's nothing to do. Plus, we have a 5 acre backyard with a stream running through it, which so far has pretty much fit the bill as far as they're concerned.
You can get more house for your dollar out here. When we're ready to buy our next place (which may be sooner, rather than later, since our rental isn't really working out as well as we'd hoped) we'll be able to get a nicer house for less money.
For obnoxious food police like us - hey, it's true - this place is a heaven. We live down the road from the adorably named 'pigasso farms' which sells natural and pastured beef, chicken, pork and lamb and free range eggs. In addition to Piggaso, which is just the closest, there are I think three others on the 27 miles of rt 22 between here and the pike. There is a farmer's market with local and organic produce on pretty much every corner, and I'm loving the roadside stands with produce where you just put your money in a box. In the winter, of course, the fresh produce options will be less, but there are still some farms that make a committment to year round produce. there are several dairies we can buy direct from. It makes me feel less depressed that the nearest grocery store is 35 minutes from here, because the remaining things I need to get at a grocery store can be condensed into trips I can stretch out to two weeks or so.
There's no traffic. At least not around us. This is nice, especially coming from Boston. I can get 37 miles in about the time it used to take Andy to go 8, from Cambridge to home. On the negative side, of course, is the monstrous amount of gas we're going through. From someone who put less than 6000 miles on her car last year, this is a total culture shock. Drive 22 minutes to get to the playground? are you kidding me?? but people around here think that's nothing.
In terms of the bad things...well - you know, I think I'll just leave off here and try and focus on the good. Because of course I could go on and on (and on and on!) about what I don't like, but I think the wise advice to "bloom where you're planted" is appropriate here. Focus on the positive and eventually you'll actually feel positively, right? At least that's the plan!
Friday, July 22, 2011
Vacation
We just got back today from our vacation to Newport, RI. Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures to show you, because the very first day we were there, the camera (which was in the beach bag) got sand in the autofocus mechanism and no longer works. I'm so sad about it, because I now don't have any photos of this vacation except for a few random shots on andy's cell phone. Which is ok, I guess, because although we went down there with grand plans to do all Newport had to offer, including packing our bikes and gathering data about local kid friendly attractions, all we really did for 4 1/2 days was go to the beach. So all of our pictures would have looked the same anyways. But the longer term issue of the camera being broken is a bummer.
Last summer, as you may remember, we went to Smuggler's Notch in Stowe, VT for a week. That was totally awesome, although it definitely fell on the once-in-3-or-4-years end of the price spectrum for vacations, and that was with both our kids being able to stay free and going during a "off" week to get a reduced rate. This year, we spent aa little less than half as much and rented a condo from a friend in Newport. And what did we learn? We learned that it's not how much you spend, it's the quality time that you spend with your family that makes a great vacation.
ha! Do you really think that's what we learned? no! We learned that you get what you pay for.
that's not to say the kids didn't have a great time - they did. But the bottom line is that whether you're doing it at home or somewhere else, taking care of a preschooler and a toddler is a lot of work and coupled with the threat that one or both or them might drown if you drop your guard, totally exhausting. Andy and I have decided that it would be more accurate to call it a "family experience" than a "vacation". I mean, it's lovely to spend your vacation at the beach. It's slightly less lovely to arrive at the beach at 7:45 am because your kids have already been up for two hours begging you to take them there. Pros: at 7:45, you have the beach to yourself, and the chances of getting a sunburn are significantly reduced. Cons: you're already at the beach at 7:45 am. Which means you're in for a really, really long day.
Both kids had a lot of trouble with thier behavior and also with sleeping the whole trip - I'm guessing from the combination of excitement of being on vacation, over stimulation, and being in a strange place. The first day, Eli refused to nap entirely, resulting in epic crankiness all afternoon followed by him passing out face first on the floor at 4:30 pm, and then proceeding to wake up at 4:15 am the next day raring to hit the beach again. Both kids were up multiple times each night, to the point where even I, the queen of all night waking suckers was ready to baby gate them in their room and put in earplugs. Owen's behavior could have been a lot better, and that's a charitable understatement through the rose colored glasses of motherly love. I also don't think it helped that the condo we were staying in had significant noise transmission issues to other units and we were on the top floor. We were constantly following the kids around hissing "don't jump! don't yell! no banging!" etc. I think it probably stressed them out a little bit.
We did do a lot of fun stuff - we rode a carousel, went to an aquarium, took the kids on a boat tour of Naragansett Bay (the point during the vacation at which the chances one or both kids would drown peaked), walked the cliff walk, went to see a yacht restoration shop, went out to lunch,etc. but overall we just beached it. I worried the kids would get tired of the beach after the first couple days, but it turns out there's no amount of beach that's too much.
As we were leaving this morning, Owen said "we have to go home? I want to stay on vacation forever!" which is high praise, I suppose. But Andy and I couldn't pack up the car fast enough. we've had enough family vacation, and we now need a vacation.
and I think we're opening a savings account for another trip somewhere like Smuggler's Notch in a couple years. Somewhere where part of the vacation experience includes babysitters.
Last summer, as you may remember, we went to Smuggler's Notch in Stowe, VT for a week. That was totally awesome, although it definitely fell on the once-in-3-or-4-years end of the price spectrum for vacations, and that was with both our kids being able to stay free and going during a "off" week to get a reduced rate. This year, we spent aa little less than half as much and rented a condo from a friend in Newport. And what did we learn? We learned that it's not how much you spend, it's the quality time that you spend with your family that makes a great vacation.
ha! Do you really think that's what we learned? no! We learned that you get what you pay for.
that's not to say the kids didn't have a great time - they did. But the bottom line is that whether you're doing it at home or somewhere else, taking care of a preschooler and a toddler is a lot of work and coupled with the threat that one or both or them might drown if you drop your guard, totally exhausting. Andy and I have decided that it would be more accurate to call it a "family experience" than a "vacation". I mean, it's lovely to spend your vacation at the beach. It's slightly less lovely to arrive at the beach at 7:45 am because your kids have already been up for two hours begging you to take them there. Pros: at 7:45, you have the beach to yourself, and the chances of getting a sunburn are significantly reduced. Cons: you're already at the beach at 7:45 am. Which means you're in for a really, really long day.
Both kids had a lot of trouble with thier behavior and also with sleeping the whole trip - I'm guessing from the combination of excitement of being on vacation, over stimulation, and being in a strange place. The first day, Eli refused to nap entirely, resulting in epic crankiness all afternoon followed by him passing out face first on the floor at 4:30 pm, and then proceeding to wake up at 4:15 am the next day raring to hit the beach again. Both kids were up multiple times each night, to the point where even I, the queen of all night waking suckers was ready to baby gate them in their room and put in earplugs. Owen's behavior could have been a lot better, and that's a charitable understatement through the rose colored glasses of motherly love. I also don't think it helped that the condo we were staying in had significant noise transmission issues to other units and we were on the top floor. We were constantly following the kids around hissing "don't jump! don't yell! no banging!" etc. I think it probably stressed them out a little bit.
We did do a lot of fun stuff - we rode a carousel, went to an aquarium, took the kids on a boat tour of Naragansett Bay (the point during the vacation at which the chances one or both kids would drown peaked), walked the cliff walk, went to see a yacht restoration shop, went out to lunch,etc. but overall we just beached it. I worried the kids would get tired of the beach after the first couple days, but it turns out there's no amount of beach that's too much.
As we were leaving this morning, Owen said "we have to go home? I want to stay on vacation forever!" which is high praise, I suppose. But Andy and I couldn't pack up the car fast enough. we've had enough family vacation, and we now need a vacation.
and I think we're opening a savings account for another trip somewhere like Smuggler's Notch in a couple years. Somewhere where part of the vacation experience includes babysitters.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
we're famous!
the cox family has made it onto another blog! for today only, if you click over to my friend Cara's blog (take one shot, in the sidebar -which you should be following anyway, because she's awesome) you'll see a preview of the pictures she took for us. I've only seen the two she posted so far, but they're adorable.
back to enjoying our week at the beach. I'd promise you pictures, but our camera broke yesterday. sniff.
back to enjoying our week at the beach. I'd promise you pictures, but our camera broke yesterday. sniff.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Down on the Farm
This week I've been inspired by the fear that we may have to move to take better advantage of all the fun stuff there is to do around the Boston area. Yesterday I took the kids to Castle Island, which is hands down the best day trip with young kids in Boston, I'm convinced. There's a huge playground, a fort, a beach, a french fry and soft serve shack - and it's free! Especially on a sunny weekday when the crowds are down, it can't be beat as a way to spend the day with your kids.
Today, high off my castle island success, I decided to take the kids on a trip to Ward's Berry Farm in Sharon. Ward's is the most popular of the local pick-your-own strawberry places, and Owen seemed pretty enthusiastic about the idea of picking strawberries, so I packed up the kids and went. Unfortunately, our Ward's trip was significantly less successful than our trip to Castle Island.
To be fair, I think it would have been ok had I brought along a second adult, but it definitley was not a single parent activity. At least not without any sort of baby contaiment device (of all the times in the past 3 years to be caught without an Ergo....)
We got started right away setting the tone for the failure of the entire trip. There are three choices of receptacle for berry collection at Ward's. They had little pint containers, slightly bigger baskets, and very large cardboard trays. As I was selecting 2 baskets, one for each boy, Owen asked if we would have enough strawberries to make strawberry jam. Looking at the baskets, I realized if we wanted to make jam we'd need a lot of strawberries, and should get the big tray. This, of course, was mistake number one. What Owen knows (or cares) about making strawberry jam comes entirely from a passing reference in one of his Berenstien Bears books, and furthermore, the sheer quantity of strawberries it would take to make an acceptable quantity of jam exceeds my own attention span, not to mention that of a 3 year old and 17 month old. Nonetheless, however, I forked over $20 for the big tray, which I then set out with toward the strawberry fields.
Halfway there, the not-such-a-great-ideaness of it all started to hit me. The promised "short walk" to the fields was, in fact pretty short. To me. To Elias, it may as well have been to Athens and back. He walks just fine these days, but at his own speed, which is best described as an amble, and an amble punctuated by frequent limp-body plopping to the ground when he's decided that he's either walked far enough or (more frequently) doesn't feel like going in the direction you are going. The hot sun was beating down on us as we slowly, slowly, made our way to the fields, with me awkwardly carrying the diaper bag, their lunch bag, my purse, the empty strawberry tray, occasionally Elias, and trying to keep Owen at at least an arm's length.
For some reason, I thoght things were going to get easier once we got to the strawberry patch. But Eli proved equally difficult to redirect within the confines of the strawberry field, with the added wrinkle of a complete inability to explain the finer points of strawberry picking to him. Oh, he got the whole point of the strawberry plants allright - that child is somewhat of an expert in all things edible - but he immdiately turned into a rampaging, strawberry-hoovering monster. Ripe ones, unripe ones, hulls on, rotten ones, berries out of other people's unattended baskets and trays - he ate them all. This occupied his attention for about 14 minutes, after which he had eaten his fill and got bored of the strawberry picking experience, and converted to just regular old rampaging. Owen, for his part, was a pretty good strawberry picker for the 14 minutes Eli spent eating every strawberry he could see. Unfortunately, because he's 3 (note to self) he promptly lost interest in the whole endeavor. For those of you keeping score at home, we had one very large strawberry tray, filled with only the contents of one 3 year old's pickings for 14 minutes. So, not very many.
I started to sweat. The tray looked cavernous and I realized I had no hope of maintaining the kids' saftey and/or attention for the time it would take me to fill the damn thing. I embarked on a mad picking mission, raking my hands throught the plants while desperately trying to sing any silly song or tell any silly story to keep the kids vaguely interested and hanging out relatively near me. Owen it worked out allright for, but Elias just trampled and terrorized the strawberry patch. Luckily, at some point he decided he had room for more strawberries and spent about 10 minutes sitting in the middle of a particularly berry-laden plant eating more. I was relieved about this for awhile, because it gave me more time on the clock to fill the tray. Relieved until Owen went over to check on him and yelled "Mom, Eli's eating more rotten ones. Really Rotten ones." I called back, "Ok, honey, it's probably fine. Just show him where the good ones are." To which Owen replied "and dirt. He's also eating dirt, mama".
Strawberry picking stopped seeming like the cute family bonding activity I had envisioned and more like the exhausting, backbreaking labor it actually it is. My tray, which I had optimistically recently judged as half full now looked closer to a quarter full. I was sweating and still trying to pick berries as fast as I could. Just then, Elias made a break out of the strawberry patch, directly in front of a tractor pulling a haywagon full of families. Owen started screaming "mama! Eli's going to get run over by the tractor!" and just generally losing his bananas, during which episode he capsized our half (quarter) tray full. In truth, Eli was in no danger - the tractor was a good 40 feet away from him and going approximately 1 mile an hour, and he was caught and returned to the strawberry patch well before the tractor even passed us, but it certainly added to the, er, general ambiance.
I instructed the kids to put all the strawberries that had fallen out of the tray back into it so we could leave. I clearly didn't give very good instructions because they heard "eat as many of these spilled strawberries as you can before we go". I gathered up what berries I could save from their maws and then was faced with the return trip to the car. This time, I had all the acoutrements of the way out (diaper bag, lunch bag, purse, recalcitrant and dawdling toddler) but ALSO a tray of strawberries that had to be carried in such a way that the berries would not go flying. It took us an embarrasingly long time to go approximatly 1/4 of a mile, at the end of which we were several strawberries the lesser.
When we finally got home, Owen was still very interested in making strawberry jam. I looked at him, looked at the berries, and ALMOST pulled out a big pot. Then, I thought better of it, asked him if he wouldn't rather watch an episode of Bob the Builder, and suggested that jam-making was really an activity better suited to be done with Daddy.
Today, high off my castle island success, I decided to take the kids on a trip to Ward's Berry Farm in Sharon. Ward's is the most popular of the local pick-your-own strawberry places, and Owen seemed pretty enthusiastic about the idea of picking strawberries, so I packed up the kids and went. Unfortunately, our Ward's trip was significantly less successful than our trip to Castle Island.
To be fair, I think it would have been ok had I brought along a second adult, but it definitley was not a single parent activity. At least not without any sort of baby contaiment device (of all the times in the past 3 years to be caught without an Ergo....)
We got started right away setting the tone for the failure of the entire trip. There are three choices of receptacle for berry collection at Ward's. They had little pint containers, slightly bigger baskets, and very large cardboard trays. As I was selecting 2 baskets, one for each boy, Owen asked if we would have enough strawberries to make strawberry jam. Looking at the baskets, I realized if we wanted to make jam we'd need a lot of strawberries, and should get the big tray. This, of course, was mistake number one. What Owen knows (or cares) about making strawberry jam comes entirely from a passing reference in one of his Berenstien Bears books, and furthermore, the sheer quantity of strawberries it would take to make an acceptable quantity of jam exceeds my own attention span, not to mention that of a 3 year old and 17 month old. Nonetheless, however, I forked over $20 for the big tray, which I then set out with toward the strawberry fields.
Halfway there, the not-such-a-great-ideaness of it all started to hit me. The promised "short walk" to the fields was, in fact pretty short. To me. To Elias, it may as well have been to Athens and back. He walks just fine these days, but at his own speed, which is best described as an amble, and an amble punctuated by frequent limp-body plopping to the ground when he's decided that he's either walked far enough or (more frequently) doesn't feel like going in the direction you are going. The hot sun was beating down on us as we slowly, slowly, made our way to the fields, with me awkwardly carrying the diaper bag, their lunch bag, my purse, the empty strawberry tray, occasionally Elias, and trying to keep Owen at at least an arm's length.
For some reason, I thoght things were going to get easier once we got to the strawberry patch. But Eli proved equally difficult to redirect within the confines of the strawberry field, with the added wrinkle of a complete inability to explain the finer points of strawberry picking to him. Oh, he got the whole point of the strawberry plants allright - that child is somewhat of an expert in all things edible - but he immdiately turned into a rampaging, strawberry-hoovering monster. Ripe ones, unripe ones, hulls on, rotten ones, berries out of other people's unattended baskets and trays - he ate them all. This occupied his attention for about 14 minutes, after which he had eaten his fill and got bored of the strawberry picking experience, and converted to just regular old rampaging. Owen, for his part, was a pretty good strawberry picker for the 14 minutes Eli spent eating every strawberry he could see. Unfortunately, because he's 3 (note to self) he promptly lost interest in the whole endeavor. For those of you keeping score at home, we had one very large strawberry tray, filled with only the contents of one 3 year old's pickings for 14 minutes. So, not very many.
I started to sweat. The tray looked cavernous and I realized I had no hope of maintaining the kids' saftey and/or attention for the time it would take me to fill the damn thing. I embarked on a mad picking mission, raking my hands throught the plants while desperately trying to sing any silly song or tell any silly story to keep the kids vaguely interested and hanging out relatively near me. Owen it worked out allright for, but Elias just trampled and terrorized the strawberry patch. Luckily, at some point he decided he had room for more strawberries and spent about 10 minutes sitting in the middle of a particularly berry-laden plant eating more. I was relieved about this for awhile, because it gave me more time on the clock to fill the tray. Relieved until Owen went over to check on him and yelled "Mom, Eli's eating more rotten ones. Really Rotten ones." I called back, "Ok, honey, it's probably fine. Just show him where the good ones are." To which Owen replied "and dirt. He's also eating dirt, mama".
Strawberry picking stopped seeming like the cute family bonding activity I had envisioned and more like the exhausting, backbreaking labor it actually it is. My tray, which I had optimistically recently judged as half full now looked closer to a quarter full. I was sweating and still trying to pick berries as fast as I could. Just then, Elias made a break out of the strawberry patch, directly in front of a tractor pulling a haywagon full of families. Owen started screaming "mama! Eli's going to get run over by the tractor!" and just generally losing his bananas, during which episode he capsized our half (quarter) tray full. In truth, Eli was in no danger - the tractor was a good 40 feet away from him and going approximately 1 mile an hour, and he was caught and returned to the strawberry patch well before the tractor even passed us, but it certainly added to the, er, general ambiance.
I instructed the kids to put all the strawberries that had fallen out of the tray back into it so we could leave. I clearly didn't give very good instructions because they heard "eat as many of these spilled strawberries as you can before we go". I gathered up what berries I could save from their maws and then was faced with the return trip to the car. This time, I had all the acoutrements of the way out (diaper bag, lunch bag, purse, recalcitrant and dawdling toddler) but ALSO a tray of strawberries that had to be carried in such a way that the berries would not go flying. It took us an embarrasingly long time to go approximatly 1/4 of a mile, at the end of which we were several strawberries the lesser.
When we finally got home, Owen was still very interested in making strawberry jam. I looked at him, looked at the berries, and ALMOST pulled out a big pot. Then, I thought better of it, asked him if he wouldn't rather watch an episode of Bob the Builder, and suggested that jam-making was really an activity better suited to be done with Daddy.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
My Proud-Mama moment
I know, shameless bragging about my kid. But come on, what did you expect coming to my blog? It was pretty much created for that sole purpose. Andy and I are so proud of Owen for learning to ride a 2 wheeler. And we're even more proud that he figured it out only the second time we let him try it.
here's the link to the video.
We had a feeling he'd be able to do it pretty much right away - he has had a balance bike since he was 2 and we noticed the other day as we walked (and he rode the balance bike) to the park that he could pick his feet up and balance/glide for pretty long periods of time. We figured that basically, this is pretty much what you need to master to ride a real bike, so we bought him the smallest one we could find, didn't attach the training wheels, and let him go for it. he still can't steer and he's not terribly steady, nor does he understand the hand brakes (this bike has both pedal and hand brakes) but he can unquestionably ride the bike. We're pretty proud of him.
But don't worry. On balance, there's probably more to be mortified by than proud of in the case of this particular 3 year old, particularly lately, and particularly in the behavior department. So let me have my small positive moment...I promise I won't let it go to my head.
here's the link to the video.
We had a feeling he'd be able to do it pretty much right away - he has had a balance bike since he was 2 and we noticed the other day as we walked (and he rode the balance bike) to the park that he could pick his feet up and balance/glide for pretty long periods of time. We figured that basically, this is pretty much what you need to master to ride a real bike, so we bought him the smallest one we could find, didn't attach the training wheels, and let him go for it. he still can't steer and he's not terribly steady, nor does he understand the hand brakes (this bike has both pedal and hand brakes) but he can unquestionably ride the bike. We're pretty proud of him.
But don't worry. On balance, there's probably more to be mortified by than proud of in the case of this particular 3 year old, particularly lately, and particularly in the behavior department. So let me have my small positive moment...I promise I won't let it go to my head.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Burnt to a Crisp
If you're checking in to find out what the kids are up to, please, don't ask me. I have no idea, because I haven't seen them in a month. Not literally, of course, but I'm feeling like I may have finally reached my limit for how much I can manage at once. I generally like to think that in the 'keeping multiple balls in the air' category I'm above average, but I have met my match. To April, I say uncle.
Things started out ok, back in mid-to-late March. I have my normal work schedule (25 hours a week, Wednesday-Saturday, 6pm-12am and 5pm-12am on Fridays). I have the kids the rest of the time. Andy's been working a lot lately, usually at least one weekend day and several late nights, so we need occasional babysitters to cover the gaps, but at baseline, it's manageable. I've adjusted to getting less sleep, and though it's not ideal, it largely works. On top of that, the small business I've been trying to start with a colleage is actually taking off a bit, and we've generated ourselves a small but growing client base. Which is good, but layered on top of my normal schedule (so trying to meet with clients the three nights I don't work and on weekends) was making me feel like I had a bit too much on my plate, maybe. Right before we were supposed to leave for Phoenix we knew that the month was looking busy, but it still seemed manageable.
Then, right before we left for our trip, I got a call from my former boss. It's a long story, but let's just skip to the punchline, where she asked me to come back to my old job for a month. And how somehow, by the end of the conversation (a crack in the time/space continum? Momentary complete lapse in sanity? alien mind control?) I agreed to do so.
So, we return from Arizona, and the very next day, all hell breaks loose. Andy had a bunch of special projects and some staffing issues at work, plus he'd been away for a week. He essentially would need to live at work until late May. And I realized that I had signed myself up to work 32 hours a week at my former job, plus my regular 25 hours at my regular job, plus I had to keep all the commitments I had already made for our independent venture. Oh yeah. And the kids. Can't forget the kids.
I know. I'm with you. Nuts. Bonkers. Bat guano insane.
I generally am one that thrives off too much to do, and truth be told when I'm given too much free time I tend to put myself in predicaments just such as this one - it's somewhat of an inborn personality flaw. But this time I've really gone and walked a bit too close to the cliff. After three weeks of working a full and 2 part time jobs, plus doing the lions share of dressing, feeding, organizing, packing and transporting the progeny (who are remarkably flexible and having a great month at their old family daycare plus spending quality time with favorite babysitters, thank goodness) I've just about had enough. They say you can do anything for a short amount of time, but I think maybe "they" were thinking more like 5 minutes. One more week of this insanity and we can return to the regular, only marginally insane version of my life. And it can't come a second too soon, because for the first time I really understand what it means to feel "burnt out". I'm not sure I have more than another week in me.
The bright side, if there is one, is that I do get the whole day completely off tomorrow. The plan was that we were going to all go to CT where Andy's parents and my sister live for Easter. However, I had to work 9 to 5 today at my old job (daycare inconvieniently closed on Monday and full on Wednesday) and then 6 to 12 tonight. Much as I wish you could, you can't drive to New Haven in an hour, so we would have had to leave Sunday morning. But since I am still working next week, and need to be at work Monday, we would have had to turn right around and come back tomorrow night, and since tomorrow is the first day in the entire month of April that I didn't have one thing for any job scheduled....I just couldn't handle the thought of driving to New Haven and back in one day. So instead, the boys took a roadtrip to Grandma and Grandpa's, and I stayed home. And how will I spend Easter Sunday?
Cleaning. I trust you can use your powers of deduction to figure out what our house looks like right now.
Happy Easter, if you celebrate. I did buy the boys matching spring green plaid shirts, and assuming Andy gets some good pictures I'll post them when they return from their trip.
Things started out ok, back in mid-to-late March. I have my normal work schedule (25 hours a week, Wednesday-Saturday, 6pm-12am and 5pm-12am on Fridays). I have the kids the rest of the time. Andy's been working a lot lately, usually at least one weekend day and several late nights, so we need occasional babysitters to cover the gaps, but at baseline, it's manageable. I've adjusted to getting less sleep, and though it's not ideal, it largely works. On top of that, the small business I've been trying to start with a colleage is actually taking off a bit, and we've generated ourselves a small but growing client base. Which is good, but layered on top of my normal schedule (so trying to meet with clients the three nights I don't work and on weekends) was making me feel like I had a bit too much on my plate, maybe. Right before we were supposed to leave for Phoenix we knew that the month was looking busy, but it still seemed manageable.
Then, right before we left for our trip, I got a call from my former boss. It's a long story, but let's just skip to the punchline, where she asked me to come back to my old job for a month. And how somehow, by the end of the conversation (a crack in the time/space continum? Momentary complete lapse in sanity? alien mind control?) I agreed to do so.
So, we return from Arizona, and the very next day, all hell breaks loose. Andy had a bunch of special projects and some staffing issues at work, plus he'd been away for a week. He essentially would need to live at work until late May. And I realized that I had signed myself up to work 32 hours a week at my former job, plus my regular 25 hours at my regular job, plus I had to keep all the commitments I had already made for our independent venture. Oh yeah. And the kids. Can't forget the kids.
I know. I'm with you. Nuts. Bonkers. Bat guano insane.
I generally am one that thrives off too much to do, and truth be told when I'm given too much free time I tend to put myself in predicaments just such as this one - it's somewhat of an inborn personality flaw. But this time I've really gone and walked a bit too close to the cliff. After three weeks of working a full and 2 part time jobs, plus doing the lions share of dressing, feeding, organizing, packing and transporting the progeny (who are remarkably flexible and having a great month at their old family daycare plus spending quality time with favorite babysitters, thank goodness) I've just about had enough. They say you can do anything for a short amount of time, but I think maybe "they" were thinking more like 5 minutes. One more week of this insanity and we can return to the regular, only marginally insane version of my life. And it can't come a second too soon, because for the first time I really understand what it means to feel "burnt out". I'm not sure I have more than another week in me.
The bright side, if there is one, is that I do get the whole day completely off tomorrow. The plan was that we were going to all go to CT where Andy's parents and my sister live for Easter. However, I had to work 9 to 5 today at my old job (daycare inconvieniently closed on Monday and full on Wednesday) and then 6 to 12 tonight. Much as I wish you could, you can't drive to New Haven in an hour, so we would have had to leave Sunday morning. But since I am still working next week, and need to be at work Monday, we would have had to turn right around and come back tomorrow night, and since tomorrow is the first day in the entire month of April that I didn't have one thing for any job scheduled....I just couldn't handle the thought of driving to New Haven and back in one day. So instead, the boys took a roadtrip to Grandma and Grandpa's, and I stayed home. And how will I spend Easter Sunday?
Cleaning. I trust you can use your powers of deduction to figure out what our house looks like right now.
Happy Easter, if you celebrate. I did buy the boys matching spring green plaid shirts, and assuming Andy gets some good pictures I'll post them when they return from their trip.
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