trip to smolak farm

we went to Smolak farms a couple weekends ago and met our friends up there who have a little boy the same age as Owen. Owen had a great time looking at all the animals and discovered the joys of "pick your own" - in this case, raspberries (as a side note, $7 a pint for raspberries is nothing short of usurious, but I guess you're paying for the experience). I was highly amused by our friends' son neatly identifying raspberries and delicately picking them one at a time from the bushes while Owen's idea of picking involved breaking off an entire branch and trying to eat it, stems, leaves and all. I'm a tad concerned about the amount of pesticides he probably ingested during this endeavor, but ultimately, I've let it go. He had a great time and at that price, might as well eat a few stems and branches, if only to get your money's worth.

knitting

As many of you know, I enjoy knitting. In fact, I've been extremely prolific lately and if I get around to it, I'll post some pictures of my latest projects. I've got some cute stuff done for the new baby (so excited he'll be born in the middle of the winter, when lots of knitted apparel is appropriate) and I'm currently making Owen an adorable cable knit sweater for the holidays. However, it's hard to really find the time to get any knitting done when Owen is so adamantly opposed to me doing it in his presence:







luckily that was some junky yarn leftover from some puppets I made and not the $12/ball hand dyed alpaca I bought the other day. but still - knitting is clearly an after bedtime activity.

24 week malaise

I'm sure it comes as no surprise that I'm no fan of being pregnant. First of all, I don't do pregnant well. I'm insanely jealous of the women who manage to look like they swallowed a basketball the entire time, and I've come to realize it's a function of how long your torso is. I've got an extremely short torso, which means I get pregnant basically from my shoulders to my hips, where as women with more length tend to have the more recognizable, low pregnant belly. Yes, eventually (around 8 months) I get to the point where people can tell right away, but before that I could very well just be hefty and carry the extra weight in a really unfortunate way. Given the number of people I encounter that are genuinely surprised to discover I'm pregnant, I've been forced to conclude that's what people are assuming. Note: when someone tells you they're 6 months pregnant, "oh, REALLY? I didn't even realize! That's great! Boy or girl?" Is so, so, so not the right response. The last thing someone who has gained 15 pounds concentrated in the front wants to hear is that no one can tell she's pregnant. Aesthetics aside, I also tend to get testy. My normally misanthropic personality gets positively caustic in the presence of human growth hormone. If I'm the (pre redemption) grinch at baseline, pregnant I'm practically Voldemort.

So, anyway, I'm 24 weeks and sick of it already. Weeks 20-30 are in my opinion the worst. I'm big enough to be uncomfortable, far enough along that the novelty has completely worn off, but there's really no end in sight. This baby is coming near the end of January. That's three major holidays away. Four, if you count Halloween. There's no light at the end of the tunnel yet.

Moreover, I'm back to work full time. Which is crappy. But really, there's no good solution to the work question - any thing less than full time is no good for me professionally (especially if I'm seriously plotting a course out of the trenches and into administration, or looking to take my career in a more managerial direction) not to mention financially. At part time, I might as well have gotten a big sign that said "marginalize me" and pinned it to my (giant) shirt. At the same time, full time is a killer personally. Our quality of life was so much better at part time. We actually had something cooked for dinner more often than not. Cooked. for dinner! That's pretty unheard of when I'm working. Finally, I think (no, I'm certain, actually) what bothers me most about working full time is the fact that it completely eliminates the ability to go to the gym. I will be the first to admit that I go to the gym primarily for the mental health benefits. My mood is affected by exercise the way some people's is affected by prozac. It has a powerful effect on my outlook on life. But honestly, working full time just means it's impossible to fit in. The gym babysitting doesn't open until 8am. No good, as I need to be at work by 8. By the time I pick up Owen from school, we almost never walk in the door before 5:45. Then I have at most 1 1/2 hours to feed him, bathe him, and generally orient him to who his parents are before it's time to do stories and bed. Then at 7:30, I suppose I could go to the gym, but frankly, at that point - by the time I got there it'd be close to 8, and that's just too late for me. On most nights, I am ready to crawl into bed by 9:30 because (have I mentioned this? Ever?) my kid refuses to sleep after midnight. So Andy and I usually get a few solid hours between 9:30 and 12:30 and then we're pretty much awake with bursts of cat napping until 6 or so when it's time to get up anyway. If you can find a reliable way to get a workout in in this scenario, please share. Because I have failed miserably. When I was part time, we went every day. I worked out from 8-9, and then Owen and I either went in the pool or to indoor playground from 9-10. It was great. It's not a coincidence that I started to be extremely resentful of this pregnancy (see beginning) right around the time I transitioned to full time. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that one.

so, anyway. that's the update as of today. I'm large, cranky and overtired, which isn't a great combination. The only bright spot in the crank-fest is that we have weekends back now. My goal is to make sure we do something fun as a family every weekend between now and initiating the launch sequence of baby boy cox #2. Whether I feel like it or not.

Tremblin' Toads

I don't know if they still do it, but at holidays Hallmark used to put out these animatronic stuffed animal type things that sang a song and danced when you pressed a button for $12.95 if you bought three greeting cards. My mother loves these things and never fails to get me one when they have a new one. Last year at Halloween they offered tremblin' toads, two little toads in a cauldron that sing and dance about the witch cooking them up for dinner. Owen LOVES it, and he likes to press the button and dance to the song. It's so cute that we had to take a video of it - but of course, the minute we got the phone out to record, he stopped. Just so you know, this happens all the time. I fully intend to capture a moment for posterity and then can't get him to do anything cute at all. However, we did get a reduced version of the song and dance, so here it is: and if he starts doing it later this evening the way he was doing it when we took it out of the box this afternoon, I'll post a new one.

Actual Conversation that Occured at 55 Cerdan Ave This Evening

Me: well, I guess I have to go to the grocery store tonight.

Andy: yeah?

Me: yeah, I looked in the fridge and the cabinets and we don't have much food. I have to pack Owen a lunch tomorrow and we don't have anything he likes to eat. And he's going to have to eat Wednesday and Thursday, too.

*pause*

Andy: yes, honey. he has to eat every day.

Me. I know. Parenting is so hard.

The word is out

I interrupt this blogging vacation to bring you this late-breaking news story.

It's a boy!

As we all were. See you in September :)

blogging vacation.

Does anyone actually check this to see if I've posted anything? well, if you do, you can quit for at least another week because I simply cannot get up the interest to do anything productive in August. August is pretty high up there on the list of things I hate (Sample list of things Jenny hates: 1) Christmas 2) August 3) The dentist 4) people who don't believe in global warming etc.) and I can't get motivated to take photos, write witty (to me, at least. witty to ME. you don't need to write me emails letting me know I'm not as funny as I think I am) recaps of Owen's adventures, or even subject the internet to my outraged liberal ranting. A couple years ago - ok, I just looked up the article and was astounded by the date on the byline...ALMOST TEN FREAKING YEARS AGO - I read a great article called "august - let's get rid of it" by David Plotz. I couldn't agree more. So, rather than waste time on my blog, I'll direct you over there, and as for team-cox.blogspot.com...we'll be back up and operational in September. Which is a great month, by the way.

August: let's get rid of it