Friday, June 27, 2014

A Non-Pregnant Woman's Guide On Not Inadvertently Calling Someone Fat

The weirdest phenomenon happens to me.  All the time.

I am approached by people on an embarrassingly regular basis, congratulating me on the shape of my tummy, asking me whether my belly is a boy or a girl or poking at my belly button and commenting on how "fluffy" I am.  Darn it if that doesn't sound like all of these people are asking me if I am pregnant!  I wish I could say I was lying, but alas, I am not.  I've come to expect it and even occasionally enjoy the funny awkwardness, now that I've mastered the art of making people squirm and all.  Yes- I have had to tell a male colleague that my stomach doesn't really have a gender, but if it did, I'm sure if would be a girl, since that is what I am.  I have also had to tell a stranger or two that they need not ask my children in a baby voice if they are excited about their new brother or sister.  

Part of me wants to say, "Come on, peeps!  I know I'm no fit model, but is it really THAT bad?"

THIS is me being pregnant (circa 2010)

And THIS is me more recently on a strict frappucino diet 
(come on!  Starbucks 1/2 price happy hour in May?!  You know you had more than three in a week too!)

While I'm certainly not going to be confused as a Crossfit enthusiast, I  don't exactly feel "basketball in my shirt" big.  Right?!

I also don't quite buy the excuse that I receive on occasion that the person only asked me because I was "glowing".  While I don't deny that I could have the tendency to glow, I bet you a dollar to a donut (fat joke?) that when a skinny girl is "glowing", nobody asks her if she is pregnant.  

Just a few thoughts.  While I agree that rather than writing a post unabashedly exclaiming to the world how out of shape I am, I probably should be planking or doing crunches or running around my kitchen island with 3 lb hand weights velcroed to my bingo arms; however as a working mother of two kids, ages 3 and under, I've come to live with a certain level of acceptance.  No, I don't think that I should accept things forever, but for this minute in my life, I'm just not at a velcro strapping, crunch-while-I'm-juicing type stage.  And since most of my life is lived in a place of neurotic inadequacy, I don't view this as defeated. I view this acceptance as allowing grace for myself.  

I also could agree that perhaps one could make more flattering clothes choices.  Yes.  You're right.  I called my personal stylist and we have an appointment on Tuesday.  Wait.  I forgot.  I don't have one.  
I have 3 rules when it comes by buying clothes: 
1. I saw it.
2. I liked it.
3. It was cheap.

Seriously.  The last time I was in a dressing room, my 3 year old announced loudly to the world that he could see my hiney.  You don't get to do very much twirling and viewing when, along with trying on the clothes, you are also attempting to feed your 2-year-old a snack (a snack that cannot be messy or you risk transferring snack residue onto the clothes that you are trying on), keeping your son from crawling out of the bottom part of the  dressing room door, and trying to keep them both engaged in a game of "ew" or "yay".  That's right- I let my kids vote on the clothes I purchase by answering "ew" or "yay" when I put something on.  Let's just say that I have veto'd many an "ew"...which perhaps could be the source of me purchasing so many maternity-esque type shirts. 

So how does this happen?  You can probably guess. It's easy math.  
two babies + uncrunched tummy + tendency to glow + blousy shirt/empire waste cothes= 
pregnancy inquiries

Here are a series of pictures of me not being pregnant and a potential reason for the confusion: 

Blousy shirt.  Blame it on fashion.  
Although how cute would this pic be if someone was in a "delicate condition" and did enjoy taking pictures of herself in elevator mirrors?! 

Blousy shirt again
and check out that hot non-baby daddy!

Blousy shirt/unflattering hold position

Gut emphasizing slouch
but super awesome family pic.  Thank you, Erika! 

Not particularly pregnant looking, but I just really like this shirt.

So, I will leave you with my criteria for asking a woman if she is pregnant since a fluffy tummy is clearly not the only indicator of pregnant status or condition.  A fluffy tummy must be accompanied by at least one or more of the following:
  • rubbing of the belly-  And I would specify a loving rubbing of the belly.  Other small gestures around the belly area could indicate disagreeable BBQ or an attempt at a discreet adjustment of a tight waste line
  • a noticeable pregnant-like waddle or swollen feet
  • conversations about child birth, breast feeding and/ or placenta encapsulation
  • wearing a shirt that says "Bun in the oven" "Baby on board" or "ask me about my baby daddy" (I kind of think this one can stand on its own.  If you're wearing this shirt and you're not pregnant, who can you really blame?)
  • Is she holding a new born?  If yes, than the chances are very great that she just gave birth to this child. I HIGHLY recommend that you not ask this woman if she is pregnant.  If you would like a case in point, I would refer to the Babies R Us manager that asked me this 5 days postpartum.  I think he has nightmares about me to this day.  
  • Is her tummy large beyond a reasonable doubt?  Think along the lines of a criminal trial here.  
If she looks like this:
it is questionable.  There are many reasonable doubts.  
I warn you- do not ask, congratulate, pet or predict a gender.  This woman is not pregnant.

However if a reasonable doubt is marginal, you may proceed.

If she looks like this: 
reasonable doubts have been safely mitigated.  
She is either 
a) pregnant 
or 
b) you may call grocery store security because someone is shoplifting watermelons. 

Disclaimer: This post was intended for the humor, enjoyment and self deprecation of the writer.  No judgement on behalf of those making pregnancy inquiries has been rendered.   

Saturday, June 21, 2014

...but I forgot to blog about it. Part 2

Just in time for the World Cup, I'd like to take you all back the Winter Olympic games.  Quite the fun time in the Cox house. Even now, Gavin will occasionally ask if we can turn on the "bolympics".  My kids enjoyed nearly every watchable moment of the Olympic games from the opening ceremonies to Evgeni Plushenko's historic acquiescence of what was to be his gold metal skate.  All of these moments were watched and felt by Mr. Gavin Cox.  We had some pretty precious moments...and I can only tell you that I am counting down the days until the summer Bolympics.

Most of  our dinner times were stationed in front of the TV.  This isn't  common in the Cox house since we TRY to have dinner around the table- one of the only "normal" things that we do.  We break our rule occasionally and felt that the Winter games were a great opportunity to do this.

When Gavin wasn't strapped to his high chair, he was down on the floor, participating in whatever sport it was that we were watching. 
This is Gavin and Harper actively participating in the opening ceremonies.  

And this is Gavin "cross country skiing".  If you can't tell, he is using our dissembled alphabet puzzle from the last picture- the T and the P make excellent ski poles, if you don't mind an extreme "hunch" position.
They also both passionately participated in men's, women's and pairs figure skating.

 One of our more interactive moments was Gavin reenacting when Evgeni Plushenko bowed out of his final Olympic skate after a fall that resulted in a back injury.  Gavin would- very mime-like, since the television coverage of it had muted sound while the commentators said what was going on- act like he was going to do a big jump, then with much aplomb would fall onto his back.  He'd then come over to Matthew and I on the couch and show us his lower back. With head hanging low, he'd join us on the couch and tell us that he could no longer skate.  It was quite the dramatic occasion...and took place almost every night for a week following the actual event.

I also quite enjoyed the night that we were watching pairs skating.  Gavin and Harper and I were dancing in the living room while the couples skated.  Gavin said with the most convicted and excited voice you can imagine- "Hey Mom!  Get onto my shoulders!".  Sweet boy.  I love that he so vividly expected that this was a likely scenario!   
Gavin and Harper both wholeheartedly participated in the skeleton event, while I watched on and cried in a combination of their cuteness along with the victory of Noelle Pikus Pace. 
 Probably the gold medal winning moment of the 2014 Olympics was an A-shift Saturday for Matthew (meaning he worked all day) that coincided with the tail end of a mommy bout with the flu and walking pneumonia.  Kiss of death.  We had a stroke of genius though when my little brother Connor came over and decided to create our own Olympic games.

I carefully handcrafted skis with cardboard and duct tape and provided ski poles out of dowel rods (we only have one P and one T- clearly, that would not suffice a 3 person race).

 Throw in a mountain made of pillows and couch cushions and you have quite an exciting evening.  

We had a blast!  Uncle Connor was quite the excellent ski coach and the materials were used for both down hill events as well as cross country/ hall way races.  

The fun extended into the next day and a few days thereafter.  


  So many priceless moments!  

Our competitive spirit was stimulated again a few weeks later with March Madness.  As you know from previous posts, this is a highly anticipated in the Cox, Jeffers, et al household.  This year, we decided that both kids were old enough to participate in the bracketology.

Both parents employed different bracket picking tactics dependent on the child's developmental aptitude for picking the best winner:

Gavin was able to decide based on the best candidate between two name choices

while Harper picked by selecting the ranking with their division.  


All in all, it was highly competitive and ridiculously fun; however our efforts did not prove very fruitful for either of the kids.  I believe that Harper is probably the only person in the world to pick two 11 seeded teams to go head to head and Gavin decided to pick a winner based on the team's ability to have a name that rhymes with good friends.  "Hey Mom!  Duke rhymes with Luke!"   In a typical year, this would have been fine, but a team whose name's rhymes with Flercer quickly upset the Luke/Duke naming strategy.
  

Our little slice of the world is fast paced, unpredictable but filled with lots of love, window watching, cooking events and cuddling.  

All of our days aren't perfect.  These are truly some of our high light moments.  We have many that we'd gladly leave on the cutting room floor...except for that life doesn't have edits. 
It just has love and now and doing the most with the time that we have.




PS: I'd be remiss not to mention that ONCE I was able to french braid Harper's hair.  It has never happened before and, so far, has yet to happen again; however it was a one time immortalized moment that I can now put on my mom resume.  
Boom.