Wednesday, June 24
I just watched this documentary. Wow. I have investigated "natural" childbirth before and debated with the slim possibility that I would consider it for myself. Most of you know that I am a fan of a pre-scheduled c-section. I will pick the day, the way, and move all obstacles to the side. But the documentary poses an interesting idea that eliminating all the obstacles detracts from the experience of childbirth. And, even more so, that in America the hospital/medical system/insurance companies/OBGYN businesses take away a woman's options. They talk about the horrors of excessive drug use in the hospitals; the birthing plan out the window. I read a book about an OBGYN nurse who had a hospital birth for her first child. She told the doctor that her legs were up to high and that couldn't she please put her legs down and when she was not permitted to shift her position, she ripped. Her doctor wouldn't listen to her -- because what did she know? She was a hysterical pregnant woman in labor!
And this story. This is exactly what I want to avoid, hence the opted c-section route. Part of me figures, if everything that can go wrong, will go wrong, why not jump to the end point? Bypass hours and hours of pushing with no result and just enjoy the calm-inducing drugs followed by baby and perfect life.
Now...all of this is hypothetical. I'm not planning on being pregnant for sometime. But during this time before becoming pregnant, I want to be smart. I want to research everything and do what really is best. The cynical part of me cringes when women talk about "doing what's best for the baby" and all that hyper-mother stuff. But. I already talk about slowing down immunization schedules, 100% cotton clothing, making my own babyfood, breast milk, and on and on. So I'm trying to push away my cynic response and really dig in to the research.
Because, you see, I fear the c-section just as much as I fear a natural childbirth. It just seems LESS fearful to my rational brain. How could anything go wrong? You're in a hospital! You're surrounded by medical staff in a sterilized room! I don't want to give birth at home. I might ruin my favorite bedding...
Watching the homebirths in the documentary is magical. The woman is in her own house. She walks around through her contractions -- naked if she wants to be. Holding her husband, having her husband hold her. Sitting in the bathtub. Lying in the bed. That certainly seems nicer that being stuck in those icky hospital beds with an iv in my arm. Watching these scenes, I can see myself. I can actually picture myself moaning in pain -- but it's okay because my husband is beside me on the bed comforting me through a contraction -- and then reaching down and bringing my own love child into the world. Finding out what the sex is the old fashioned way; looking down. The women in the documentary talk about this internal struggle where you realize as a person that you are faced with two horrible options: 1) don't push because it hurts too much or 2) push because it hurts too much. But they say that afterwards, after it's all over, you can't believe that YOU, this teeny tiny regular woman, climbed the mountain of childbirth. And it's very easy to feel caught up in that kind of empowerment. This idea that you can listen to your body, surrender to your body, and come out a winner.
Obviously it's not for everyone. If you have high risk factors you won't be able to have a birth at home. But why would you? No one wants to DIE during childbirth; and yet the U.S. has a higher infant mortality rate than most of Europe and Japan. According to the documentary, Europe and Japan use midwives for 70-80% of births. We use midwives for less than 10%. Do the two go hand in hand? Not necessarily. Some experts say that our mortality rates are higher because we have more high-risk pregnancies: obese or overweight mothers, older mothers, more multiple births, fertility aided pregnancies.
Please watch the documentary and provide feedback. Obviously this is like, massively critical, so drop everything so you can respond thoughtfully to this post. If you have Netflix, you can watch it instantly online. I'm serious. Watch it now. I want to know what you think.
Sunday, June 21
Friday, June 19
Wednesday, June 3
Wednesday, April 29
Tuesday, April 28
Monday, April 27
Sunday, April 26
Saturday, April 25
I guess she doesn't find sexting a laughing matter. And she's right. Please change the nation's threat level to RED.
PS: I don't appreciate Reader's Digest using an iPhone for the cover. First of all, most people who read Reader's Digest don't understand the wonder of the iPhone. Second of all, most people who are concerned about sexting don't understand the wonder of the iPhone. It's practically slander.
Friday, April 24
Thursday, April 23
Wednesday, April 22
What you need:
- A treadmill/elliptical that shows distance or a pedometer, if you prefer to run outside
- Running shoes
- Clothing (although I guess this could be optional)
- Time to run
What you do:
- Week 1 you run 10 miles -- you can break up the miles between elliptical or treadmill, and spread the 10 miles throughout the week; i.e. you don't have to do all miles in one sitting.
- Each additional week you add on one mile, working up to 32 miles per week, eventually
- For every mile you don't do, you pay $1.
Tuesday, April 21
I hate your formatting. Sometimes I have to re-post and re-post in order to get the spacing exactly the way I want it. Is this, or is it not, MY BLOG? If I say I want a break after each paragraph, I fucking mean it. Shape up or ship out. Let's not let our friendship fall apart because you're an occasional piece of shit.
Monday, April 20
I am happy as a girl.
That is not to say that I am constrained by my gender, or by the gender of other people. I will stretch outside of my comfort zone to non-traditional territory. For example, many of you know that my husband did not work while he went to school and I was the bread winner. It did not bother me, but it did bother others. Maybe "bother" isn't the correct word; people thought the situation worth commenting on. And by commenting, I mean make snide remarks about how he wasn't employed even though he was not employed by choice, and a student, and we made plenty of money. These comments pissed off my gender sensibilities. WOMEN stay home all the time. WOMEN are unemployed often, or do intermittent work with no career path in mind. MEN do not comment on this situation.
Why don't they comment? Perhaps because they think it benefits them, or the family, or the wife herself. I for one do not think the cost is worth it. For those of you who know me personally, you know that I enjoy being busy, and yes, my opinion is slightly jaded towards being a "working woman." Part of this is because I know myself and I know that if I stayed at home I would be insane. Said insanity would then drive me to an asylum of some sort -- just to get me out of the fucking house. That is what I call self preservation.
I suppose this rant is coming from a head full to the brim of thoughts about wifedom and domesticity. Because, like I said, I don't mind my gender assignments, but maybe that's because I'm not trapped by them. Tom allows me to do and BE what I choose, and I in turn allow him the same. I'm reading 'The Feminine Mystique' and let me tell you; the mind reels. In the late 50s, after emancipation, during civil rights, even extending out to the hippy era, women all across the country were falling for the happy housewife. This myth that women are better in the home than in the work place. And women all across the country were tricked into thinking that college, even high school, were only as good as the husband it would catch them. Education was a means to an end; that end being a husband and family. Birth rates skyrocketed as women believed that their sole and best purpose was to procreate. Women were "happiest" at home cleaning and raising kids and taking care of their husbands and reading drivel and selling away their own dreams. (Does this sound familiar to anyone? Hello, Utah? Are you listening? Utah is still, to this day, a place where women stay home to raise a family and even though they are some of the most educated women in the country, they aren't doing anything with it. Perhaps this cultural phenomenon is tied with Utah's high methamphetamine abuse...) Sometimes I wish I wanted kids, simply because it would be an easy out. Throw my passions into my children, into motherhood, and worry about their well being rather than my own future. But that's not fair to me or to my hypothetical kidlings. That is not what would make me happy.
I think Carrie Bradshaw said it best: "Perhaps as women we've been given too many options...now we're unable to make a decision." The women's movement empowered women to think that they could do and be anything they wanted because they had been given the right to vote. But sometimes I think -- men always had the right to vote and they don't feel as though they can do or become anything. So maybe we got the wrong idea; our dreams got so big we couldn't possibly attain them and to make the failure less painful, we stay home, stay small, stay safe. I'm not meaning to bash stay-at-homes by saying this. In fact, Charlotte, in the same episode, said, "The women's movement is supposed to be about choice" which I believe. I believe in doing what makes one happy and obviously this is something I wrestle with in my own brain quite often. And I still have a difficult time putting the thoughts down in a comprehensive manner...
I guess what I'm really trying to say is: what will satisfy me?
Monday, April 13
Thursday, January 29
But I must admit -- sometimes I hate the hairs themselves. Individual hairs are beginning to invade everything. Once the hair has left the mother ship it is free to roam about the house, the bed, or Tom's undershirts, or socks, or the sink, or the shower wall, or the washing machine, and on and on. I am not going bald. In fact, if all the hairs I find everyday were still on my head, I would not be able to lift it. When we lay in bed Tom has to pat my head in order to keep hairs out of his mouth/eyes/nose. And now all these free hairs are starting to gross me out. It's as if we two are microscopic beings living on a hair brush.
However. I must press forward. 7 inches to the butt crack (which is my end goal (ha ha)); that will probably take me until the end of the summer, or longer. We'll see which comes first: the butt crack or a hair cut.
Thursday, January 22
Wednesday, January 21
Tuesday, January 20
Monday, January 19
Saturday, January 17
Friday, January 16
But by the time I arrived home, all the things I had heard were lurking in the back of my mind. I wasn't thinking about them directly. The thoughts would slip past my consciousness and then back into the shadows. Tom was not yet home and the apartment was quiet. Still. I tidied up the bedroom. I walked into the closet to hang up shirts. As I reached up my arms I began to feel creepy and exposed. I turned around and looked out at the empty room. Nothing there, nothing to worry about. I held my breath and steadied myself to walk back out to the room and keep my back to the closet. I bent down to throw out the water bottles by the bed and stared at the dark space known as 'under the bed.' I looked over my shoulder to see the closet. Nothing. I threw away the water bottles and then went into the bathroom to organize the clutter on the counter. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, transfixed. Didn't Bloody Mary come out of mirrors? I thought I heard the front door open and close and ran to the stairs. As I peeked over the railing, waiting to see Tom walking up, I peeked over my shoulder again -- just to make sure nothing was behind me. And no one came up the stairs.
Thursday, January 15
I think it's worth it to go see, despite the length. The message (or theme or lesson or whatever you want to call it) of the film seems to be that love is an experience worth having, regardless of the end, regardless of pain, regardless of circumstance, regardless of selfishness. In order to have a full and happy life, we need to open up to new experiences and new people so that we can learn more about ourselves and die, if not necessarily "happy," at least content that we lived life and loved many.
Wednesday, January 14
- a painting class
- cello lessons
- piano lessons - again
- a ballet class
Here are some of the downsides to any of these options.
- I don't know how to paint and am a horrible artist
- I do not own a cello and I can't really see how this skill set would produce anything worthwhile for quite some time
- I already know how to play the piano and I don't think my teeny tiny hands are going to grow in the next litte while
- I am way out of 'dance' shape -- like WAY
- I can't think of any negatives, per se, of pottery, just that it was last on the list because it was the last thing I thought of, which must mean something...
Despite the potential shortcomings of any of these choices, I must choose one. Because I must prevent overeating, overspending, and oversleeping, as aforementioned. Of course, maybe it would be best to just lose myself somewhere and write all day. Hmm, I hate it when things change and the inevitability of choice enters the equation once again. Routine can be so comforting - but I guess I should just kick my own ass into gear.
Tuesday, January 13
- Unpack books and put on bookshelves
- Take down Christmas tree and decorations
- Put up shelves in the garage and fill them with various crap
- Organize the mail
- Build the table we bought at Ikea a month ago
- Do the dishes
- Clean the bathroom
- Get a car wash
Hopefully nothing interesting (or uninteresting) will keep me from completion.
Monday, January 12
Sunday, January 11
Saturday, January 10
Friday, January 9
I'm at the gym and I'm in trekking class. I'm in front of the fan because I get so overheated that I will get sick and pass out if I don't have circulating air on my face. I am running, no, sprinting. And I am sort of gasping for air. Slowly, my breathing catches a hint of stink. The hint eventually turns into a decisive point -- and where is it pointing? To the guy next to me who has apparently passed gas while running full speed.
This is disgusting on several levels. First of all; I am running. I am breathing deeply and each breath feels like it might be my last. Do I want my last breath to reek of ass? Second of all; his farts were super stinky ... like a dead animal. I'm thinking, what is this man eating? He smells like he's about to rot. Thirdly; where is the common courtesy? The treadmills at my gym are upstairs and fans are kind of scarce and the air is hot and muggy. Can he not just a) hold them in or b) at least jog away to expel his disgusting puff?
I admit, I was pretty rude after the first fart was followed by many and I realized that apparently his jogging was compressing his bowels and that he would be releasing gas the entire HOUR LONG class. I started putting my hand up to my face under my nose. I would take my towel and whip the air in front of my face. I would roll my eyes and make a slightly (but really more than slightly) disgusted noise. I would turn my head away in a most determined fashion. I hope he got the hint. The hint being: if you are farting, it's time we were parting. And hopefully he was appropriately embarrassed and will think twice about his treadmill etiquette.
Thursday, January 8
- Lunch with college roommate
- Niece's birthday get-together
- Dinner with out-of-town childhood friend
- Late-night flick with work buddies
Hopefully I will have time for a quick cat nap...Tom asked me why I booked so much stuff on one day -- but honestly, everything just sort of fell into place this way. It will be a day of catching up with loved ones, gossip, reminiscing, and fun. What better way to spend the day?
Wednesday, January 7
Kellie is going to come down around noon tomorrow so we can go sledding if anyone wants to come
like, at your dad's?
or at a real place, cause it was warm and Dad said his hill is deteriorating quickly
I commented about my dad's bday a while back and said at least if you are going to lie about your birthday, Go Younger!
What are your plans today and tomorrow
i went to tai pan with my mom today and i got this great mirror for the living room for $35
I love tai pan!
and then we're going to see a movie later
and tomorrow i've got lunch with my college roommate
and then dinner with jonah wright
and then a movie with my work friends
Aren't you coming to Ken's party?
what time is it at?
oh, we can still go
lunch is early and the dinner is at like 7
and the movie is a midnighter... I guess...our days end at 7, lol
lol - the movie's at 10:30
Kenley helped me clean the house last night til amost 930 and it is still a huge mess!
so when you guys come over, just look past the disgusting mess
how dirty can your house be?
I have been in pain all week with the endo, and Aaron worked 6 days in a row...
It's probably the worst it has ever been since we moved in
I am going to take some ibuprofen and lay down, talk to ya later... take care
okay- see you tomorrow
Tasha has left the conversation.
Oh god. I laughed until I cried. Tom told me that he was just going to keep saying "penis" until she responded - but Tasha, being his sister and having grown up with his obssessive antics, just ignored him until the very end. And promptly logged off. I love my family.
Tuesday, January 6
Monday, January 5
- apply makeup
- blow dry hair
- brush hair
- do hair (i.e. ponytail, curling, waving, you know 'doing')
- paint nails
- file nails
- trim nails
- get a pedicure
- whiten teeth
- brush teeth
- wash face
- moisturize using anti-aging cream
- get dressed
- put on lotion
- shave various areas
- pluck eyebrows
- wear perfume
- wear jewelry
- pop zits
- use nose strips
- dye hair
- trim hair
- use hairthings like headbands/scarves
- curl eyelashes
- pumice heels
Doesn't that sound ridiculous? I mean, I don't do all that shit every day, but goddamn; that seems like an awful lot. I'll have to think of something I can cut out...maybe the sleep. Sometimes I hate being a high-maintenance low-maintenance-appearing female.
Sunday, January 4
I have a difficult time finding jewelry that I like because my taste is very particular and tends to be very expensive. Unfortunately, I have been plagued with this since I was a small child -- I always liked the most expensive thing, despite not knowing how much it was before I desperately fell in love with it.
And here are some expensive things that are absolutely fabulous and that I must have despite bank breaking or excess of bracelets...neither of which are true. Okay, that's a lie. But please.
Friday, January 2
- Revolutionary Road
- The Reader
- Gran Turino
- The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
- Rachel Getting Married
- Slumdog Millionaire
- Yes Man
- Madagascar Escape 2 Africa
- He's Just Not That Into You
Thursday, January 1
- weigh 105 pounds
- finish writing a novel of fiction
- start writing a novel of non-fiction
- write a book of poems
- write every day
- read every day
- run a marathon
- work on my correspondence
- finish projects from 2008
- organize the mail
- take ballet classes
Wish me luck.