Complete

Son put one hand on each of my cheeks, looked me straight in the eyes, and said "I like you. I really like you, mommy." Life = Complete.

Rude

A little advice. Unless you're a good friend, do not ask the parents (particularly the mom) of a two- or three-year-old why they haven't popped another kid out yet. It's rude. And believe me, you don't want to hear about the miscarriage, the 15+ months of trying to conceive, the fertility treatments, etc.

I actually kind of grapple with this because I'm a fairly open person and am happy to talk about my trials and tribulations because it is often returned with tales of others' trials and tribulations and it gives me solace that other people have experienced similar woes. But when the comment is meant to be critical - like there's something wrong with me for not yet having another kid - I get pissed. Last week, I bumped into a friend of my parents, and he told me over and over and over that it's time for me to get working on another and it's a shame I haven't yet and that he's sure my parents would love anther grandkid and that his daughter had a second child who is already one. I was so annoyed but did not say anything. Then yesterday, a contractor who came to bid on work we're having done said, and I quote: "What kind of Jew are you with only one kid. Get working!" Seriously? No, really, seriously? (That comment is wrong for so many reasons.) I looked him straight in the eye and told him it is rude to say that to a woman because you don't know if she's been trying but hasn't been able to get pregnant. He felt bad. Then I felt bad for making him feel bad. But he made me feel bad first.

I know that I will eventually have another baby, and I very much look forward to that day. But for now, I am thoroughly and with my whole heart relishing every second with my son, and am grateful for having more time with him that I wouldn't otherwise have if another child was in the picture. I mean, look at this face (and the hair that cannot be tamed):

8 I Hate!

By now you know that I'm an organic nut! Last week at the grocery store, I taught my son the trick to knowing whether a particular fruit or vegetable is organic: if the number on the produce sticker begins with a "9," it's organic. This ended up being an excellent way of keeping my son busy while making my rounds through the bulk bins at Whole Foods. I just placed the fruit on one side of him in the cart, and he inspected every sticker to make sure it began with the number "9."

So what do the other numbers mean? If the number begins with a "3" or "4," the food was grown conventionally (i.e., generally sprayed with chemicals, weed killers and pesticides). If it begins with an "8" it is genetically modified. By genetically modified, I'm not referring to hybrid fruits like apriums or pluots or tangelos (all delicious!). I'm referring to those nasty foods, the genetic makeup of which has been modified by the introduction of DNA from other microbes, plants and animals and/or pesticidal genes, creating unstable cellular structures that do not occur in nature. (Click here for a brief primer on Everything You Need to Know About GMOs.) I'm referring to Monsanto-related crops, which, incidentally, have been banned from France, Germany, Greece, Austria, Luxembourg, and Hungary. These foods have significant health risks.

I've never actually encountered a food beginning with the number "8," mostly because I shop at Whole Foods and Trader Joe's, neither of which sells genetically modified produce. But I have visions of coming across one and being really mad at it!

In reality, I'm sure I've encountered - and even eaten - genetically modified foods, particularly because I eat at restaurants that undoubtedly cook with soybean, corn, and canola oil, and have eaten conventionally-grown edamame at sushi restaurants, and those are the products most likely to be affected by GMOS. My solution, however, is to stick with a diet rich in leafy greens - I stick spinach and kale in everything from smoothies to apple sauce to pasta sauce - which, in my mind at least, detoxifies my body of those harmful ingredients.

Here's a littly rhyme to remind you of what the numbers mean when you're at the store:

3 and 4 are a bore

8 I hate

9 is divine

(Note: I didn't make this up, but I have no idea who to credit it to.)

A Break

Yes, I took a break. But I'm back. No excuses for why I haven't blogged in nearly a year. Well, OK, I'll dish it. Husband started a new job, and I took on an additional role in our house: dinner maker, also referred to as recipe follower. (I have purposely avoided the words "cook" and "chef" because I don't believe those titles apply to me...yet). So I've been busy. And tired. And I took a break. But now I'm back, and here's why:

I am quitting the law firm.

I am giddy with excitement! Jumping for joy! I feel good! And I'm scared stiff. I have worked hard - very hard - for ten years as a lawyer. I've done the big firm; done the small firm; tried cases; written briefs; researched laws; argued in court; pulled all-nighters (more than I would like to admit). I'm tired and sick of the stress. I want to be a better wife and a better mom, and want to let go of that stress I feel every day in the pit of my stomach. Luckily, I have a very supportive husband and so I'm taking the leap, and am hoping to find my path to - well, truth is, I'm not sure to where. But I have ideas. Good ones. More to come on those in the next few weeks. Fact is that I'm not quitting the law completely and I'm going to take on contract work while I figure things out. Quitting the law firm is step one, and I'm looking forward to whatever lies in the future.