As I write this, I'm about 11 weeks pregnant, and unfortunately, this pregnancy is going nothing like my last. I think I had the world's easiest pregnancy last time - no morning sickness (only occasional queasiness), no backaches, no varicose veins, no major problems whatsoever. My only "problems" were constant heartburn and a burning pain at the top of my tummy, which I found out later was due to Alex's breech position (her feet would push into the top of my belly when I sat down). Overall, I truly enjoyed being pregnant. I loved the belly, I loved feeling Alex move, I loved knowing that I was growing a whole new person.
This time, however, everything is different. I had morning sickness practically from the day I peed on the pregnancy test (thankfully not bad enough to vomit, but bad enough to make the couch my best friend) until about a week ago, I've hardly had any heartburn (which is certainly okay with me), my boobs are so sore they feel like they weigh 800 pounds, and I'm tired ALL the time. Now, the fatigue and the sore boobs I had with Alex as well (as the doctor said, nobody escapes the tireds), but I'm almost positive they didn't last this long. Granted, I expected to be more tired this time around since I have a toddler to run after, but I guess I thought I'd be on the mend by now. Luckily the morning sickness seems to have faded away, so now the rest of it needs to fade away as well.
On the whole, pregnancy is a rather bizarre phenomenon, at least for me. Things happen to me and to my body during pregnancy that never happen when I'm not pregnant. For example, one of the main indicators that I was pregnant with Alex (before I tested, of course), was heartburn. Until I got pregnant, I'd never had heartburn, and after I had Alex, I never had it again until I got pregnant this time. I am also prone to nosebleeds during pregnancy, another phenomenon I've never experienced outside of pregnancy. Apparently my body just needs to bleed, and since I won't be getting a period for a while, I guess blood gushing from my nose is the next best thing. My sense of smell is also comparable to that of my dogs, which is apparently quite normal. This superhuman sense of smell was part of the reason I didn't much enjoy my recent trip to New York, where the city smells so bad people burn incense in the streets. When I was pregnant with Alex, I was rather warmish all the time (which only got worse after she was born), but with this pregnancy, I've been freezing since day one. My little Leo (baby's nickname based on his/her probable zodiac sign) has decided to steal all my body heat, and there's none left over for me. In addition to wearing about three layers, fuzzy socks plus slippers, and a blanket (I'm seriously considering investing in a Snuggie, a device I've always considered ludicrous), I've also had to turn up the thermostat, somedays as high as 70 just to keep from shivering. I'm not sure what's worse: freezing all the time or sweating all the time. I used to think that being cold was preferable, since I could always put more clothes on, but given that no matter how many layers I wear I'm still cold, I'm not so sure anymore (of course, the below-zero temperatures certainly don't help).
There are all sorts of strange things that happen to women during pregnancy that nobody tells us about. Hair becomes thicker and fuller, body hair either grows faster or slower, skin dries out or becomes uber-oily or acne comes back with a vengance, certain body parts darken while others lighten, varicose veins and stretchmarks threaten our appearance; all this at the same time that we're dealing with "normal" pregnancy symptoms.
I shouldn't complain, though. I feel very fortunate to be going through pregnancy now as opposed to, say, during the days of Laura Ingalls Wilder (or worse, even further back). I can find out I'm pregnant as early as 10 days after ovulation, I can take over-the-counter or prescription drugs for morning sickness, I can see the baby via ultrasound (and even find out its gender), and I can get an epidural (aka: a lifesaver) during labor. I don't have to worry about injecting my urine into a rabbit to find out if I'm pregnant (which I really hope it just an old wives' tale), or or chewing on raw ginger root to calm the queasies, or overdosing on laudanum during labor. I doubt pregnancy has ever been comfortable, but it's undoubtedly more comfortable now than ever before. Knowing that, I'm off to try to enjoy mine by taking a nap.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
New York, New York
My husband and I recently took a several day trip to New York City. My husband had been there many times, and I, being the sheltered shut-in that I am, had never been there. The closest I'd been was Washington D.C. (which was fab), where we went for our honeymoon (we're dorks). I've always wanted to travel, and NYC was high on my list of places to visit. After seeing it in movies and TV shows my whole life, I'd built the Big Apple up in my mind, and I have to say, it seriously let me down.
Now, I should preface the coming criticism by mentioning that I was about five and a half weeks pregnant when we took our trip. I'd only gotten a positive pregnancy test a week before we left, but I was already feeling tired and crappy. I knew as soon as I saw the two pink lines that I should have had my husband take a friend on the trip instead of me, but that wasn't the plan. My husband is, for some reason that's beyond my comprehension, a New York Jets fan, so for his birthday I bought him two tickets to see the Jets play the Atlanta Falcons at Giants Stadium. He'd never been to a Jets home game, so the gift just seemed natural. My husband has also wanted to take me to New York for quite some time, so we went out a few days before the game to see the sights and get the whole NYC experience. I should also mention that I don't like crowds; blame it on growing up in the Midwest, where big cities are places like Fargo and Sioux Falls, with populations of about 200,000 and 130,000 respectively. It was also a week before Christmas, so the streets of Manhattan were even more crowded than usual (I assume, but since I've never been there any other time of year, this is only an assumption). As if all this wasn't enough to make the trip miserable, it took us over 24 hours to get home, thanks in part to a power outage at LaGuardia...but more on that later. Thus, the following list of What I Learned in New York, is as truthful as possible, but even I'll admit that my perception was terribly skewed from the beginning. Perhaps someday I'll go back to repair my awful impression of the Big Apple, but until then, this is what I learned in New York.
1. New York smells. I'd heard this many times before my visit, but it wasn't until then that I realized people weren't being facetious. According to my husband, the cold winter air dulled the smell considerably, but my hyper-sensitive pregnant nose picked up on the stench nonetheless. When people are burning incense in the street, you know the place reeks.
2. New Yorkers really do have crazy accents a la Tony Soprano. It's cool on TV, when coming out of mobsters like, well, Tony Soprano, but in real life the accents just sound obnoxious and overdone.
3. Advertising is everywhere, and it's disgusting. I knew that Times Square was advertising Mecca, but Times Square is only just the beginning. Advertisements for anything and everything are literally everywhere, from subway walls and trains to buses and cabs, from store front windows to walking billboards waddling down the street. I've studied and analyzed advertising for years, so I found the gratuitous amount of ads everywhere disturbing yet telling. Apparently the items advertised (ranging from Budweiser beer to Calvin Klein jeans...all big market brands, of course) are the things our society values. Ugh.
4. The subway wasn't quite as scary as I'd imagined. Granted, it certainly wasn't as clean and sparking as D.C.'s metro, but D.C.'s metro system is much newer than the New York subway system. Would I want to hang out on the subway platform by myself? Hell no, but again, I imagine that comes from growing up and living in a relatively rural community, one in which we probably don't need to lock our doors at night (we do, of course, but mainly because of the kinds of things we hear happening in places like New York). I even got to see a real subway rat, which was as scary as I'd imagined. I'm pretty sure the rat was bigger than both of my cats...combined.
5. While New Yorkers aren't as rude as I'd heard, they weren't exactly friendly either. Overt politeness is a quality I've grown accustomed to; yet another thing to blame on my Midwestern upbringing. People in the Midwest are genuinely nice. We say hi to others when we pass them on the sidewalk, we wave to other vehicles we pass on rural roads, we smile and mean it. The people in New York always seemed like they were in a huge hurry to get somewhere very important, and in that mad rush they certainly couldn't be bothered to notice anyone else, let alone say hi or wave or even smile. Now, don't get me wrong, I understand the logistics of saying hi, or waving, or smiling to 20 million people; it's just not realistic. However, most New Yorkers just looked grumpy, like they were pissed off at someone for something that was very important. Even the sales associates in the stores we visited seemed cranky and irritable, although I admit that could easily be because of the busy holiday season and the undoubtedly cranky customers they had to put up with. Regardless, I'll take Midwestern hospitality over the rush of New York life any day.
6. New Yorkers seem to lack an inner monologue. At the Jets game, we were surrounded by two groups of people who felt it necessary to give a play-by-play of the game, complete with their own commentary on everything from coaching decisions to play calls. All that in those obnoxious accents mentioned earlier. It seemed like if they thought it, they said it, without any sort of filter in between. I didn't just notice this trend at the game; when we went out to eat, I was amazed at the dinner conversations of the people around us. Given that most of the tables at the restaurants we went to were about four inches (or less) apart, it was pretty hard not to overhear other people's conversations. A pair of women one night discussed a friend's problems with her therapist, while a couple another night (obviously tourists like us) talked about how expensive everything was In New York. Yet another night, a group of people debated the differences between New Yorkers and Bostonians. Now granted, none of these conversations were racy or torrid or anything, but the conversations were clearly audible to anyone within a 20-foot radius. I assume that this is a result of living in such a densely populated area; after living with so many people for so long, I imagine one just eventually tunes most people out, turning others into a kind of background noise. Again, living in a sparsely populated area has spoiled me into having a certain expectation of privacy, even in public. Out east, privacy doesn't exist, especially in public.
7. Giants Stadium is a shit hole; no wonder why they're building a new one. I mean, they don't even sell nacho cheese with their nachos! Sacrilege, I tell you.
8. The city does not do snow removal very well. This could simply be logistics. It can't be easy trying to remove over a foot of snow when it falls over a major metropolitan area, but on some streets they didn't even try. No wonder why my socks were wet before we even sat down at the football game.
9. LaGuardia Airport is a shit hole. After standing in line for two hours to check our bags, we found out that over half of the Delta/Northwest self check-in kiosks were down due to a power outage. Fine, but it would have been nice to know that while we were waiting. As a result of the massive lack of organization and lack of communication on the part of the Delta/Northwest employees, we missed our flight by 10 minutes and thus had to spend the rest of the day at the airport. The only reason we got out when we did was because they managed to get an extra flight out to Minneapolis at 11:00 that night (our original flight was to leave at 11:00 am). We had to spend the night in the Minneapolis Airport, as our flight home to Sioux Falls didn't leave until 9:00 am. All that is never fun to deal with, but it's especially not fun to deal with when newly pregnant and on the verge of vomiting all day. Because of this horrible experience, I barely left the house for three weeks after we got home. And it will be a long time before I fly again.
10. Celebrities apparently have to go through the same crap the rest of us do. Once we realized we'd be at the airport until 11:00 pm, my husband suggested we find something to eat. Once that was accomplished, my husband wandered off to the bathroom, which was right across the hall from the "restaurant." When he came back, he told me to watch the men's room door. So I did, and a few minutes later, Stephen Colbert walked out of the men's room. He looked at me and my jaw dropped, so I'm sure I looked like a freak. My husband said he was equally as shocked when he realized Colbert was standing next to him at the urinal, but unlike me, I'm sure he managed to contain his excitement. Given their location, that's probably a good thing.
Now I realize that most of this is negative, but it wasn't all bad. The Statue of Liberty was truly cool, and even though I was freaked out, being atop the Empire State Building was breathtaking. The food was good, and the fact that there's a Rite Aid on every corner is certainly convenient. It was awesome spending one-on-one time with my husband, especially since soon we'll have two kiddos fighting for our attention. Overall, though, I think it was just a big culture shock for me, a girl from the Midwest who's lived in a town of about 18,000 people for the past 10 years and who's never travelled much. If nothing else, the trip to New York made me realize how much I love South Dakota, even if it's the last place I ever thought I'd end up. South Dakota is my home, and it took a trip to New York to help me realize there's no place I'd rather be.
Now, I should preface the coming criticism by mentioning that I was about five and a half weeks pregnant when we took our trip. I'd only gotten a positive pregnancy test a week before we left, but I was already feeling tired and crappy. I knew as soon as I saw the two pink lines that I should have had my husband take a friend on the trip instead of me, but that wasn't the plan. My husband is, for some reason that's beyond my comprehension, a New York Jets fan, so for his birthday I bought him two tickets to see the Jets play the Atlanta Falcons at Giants Stadium. He'd never been to a Jets home game, so the gift just seemed natural. My husband has also wanted to take me to New York for quite some time, so we went out a few days before the game to see the sights and get the whole NYC experience. I should also mention that I don't like crowds; blame it on growing up in the Midwest, where big cities are places like Fargo and Sioux Falls, with populations of about 200,000 and 130,000 respectively. It was also a week before Christmas, so the streets of Manhattan were even more crowded than usual (I assume, but since I've never been there any other time of year, this is only an assumption). As if all this wasn't enough to make the trip miserable, it took us over 24 hours to get home, thanks in part to a power outage at LaGuardia...but more on that later. Thus, the following list of What I Learned in New York, is as truthful as possible, but even I'll admit that my perception was terribly skewed from the beginning. Perhaps someday I'll go back to repair my awful impression of the Big Apple, but until then, this is what I learned in New York.
1. New York smells. I'd heard this many times before my visit, but it wasn't until then that I realized people weren't being facetious. According to my husband, the cold winter air dulled the smell considerably, but my hyper-sensitive pregnant nose picked up on the stench nonetheless. When people are burning incense in the street, you know the place reeks.
2. New Yorkers really do have crazy accents a la Tony Soprano. It's cool on TV, when coming out of mobsters like, well, Tony Soprano, but in real life the accents just sound obnoxious and overdone.
3. Advertising is everywhere, and it's disgusting. I knew that Times Square was advertising Mecca, but Times Square is only just the beginning. Advertisements for anything and everything are literally everywhere, from subway walls and trains to buses and cabs, from store front windows to walking billboards waddling down the street. I've studied and analyzed advertising for years, so I found the gratuitous amount of ads everywhere disturbing yet telling. Apparently the items advertised (ranging from Budweiser beer to Calvin Klein jeans...all big market brands, of course) are the things our society values. Ugh.
4. The subway wasn't quite as scary as I'd imagined. Granted, it certainly wasn't as clean and sparking as D.C.'s metro, but D.C.'s metro system is much newer than the New York subway system. Would I want to hang out on the subway platform by myself? Hell no, but again, I imagine that comes from growing up and living in a relatively rural community, one in which we probably don't need to lock our doors at night (we do, of course, but mainly because of the kinds of things we hear happening in places like New York). I even got to see a real subway rat, which was as scary as I'd imagined. I'm pretty sure the rat was bigger than both of my cats...combined.
5. While New Yorkers aren't as rude as I'd heard, they weren't exactly friendly either. Overt politeness is a quality I've grown accustomed to; yet another thing to blame on my Midwestern upbringing. People in the Midwest are genuinely nice. We say hi to others when we pass them on the sidewalk, we wave to other vehicles we pass on rural roads, we smile and mean it. The people in New York always seemed like they were in a huge hurry to get somewhere very important, and in that mad rush they certainly couldn't be bothered to notice anyone else, let alone say hi or wave or even smile. Now, don't get me wrong, I understand the logistics of saying hi, or waving, or smiling to 20 million people; it's just not realistic. However, most New Yorkers just looked grumpy, like they were pissed off at someone for something that was very important. Even the sales associates in the stores we visited seemed cranky and irritable, although I admit that could easily be because of the busy holiday season and the undoubtedly cranky customers they had to put up with. Regardless, I'll take Midwestern hospitality over the rush of New York life any day.
6. New Yorkers seem to lack an inner monologue. At the Jets game, we were surrounded by two groups of people who felt it necessary to give a play-by-play of the game, complete with their own commentary on everything from coaching decisions to play calls. All that in those obnoxious accents mentioned earlier. It seemed like if they thought it, they said it, without any sort of filter in between. I didn't just notice this trend at the game; when we went out to eat, I was amazed at the dinner conversations of the people around us. Given that most of the tables at the restaurants we went to were about four inches (or less) apart, it was pretty hard not to overhear other people's conversations. A pair of women one night discussed a friend's problems with her therapist, while a couple another night (obviously tourists like us) talked about how expensive everything was In New York. Yet another night, a group of people debated the differences between New Yorkers and Bostonians. Now granted, none of these conversations were racy or torrid or anything, but the conversations were clearly audible to anyone within a 20-foot radius. I assume that this is a result of living in such a densely populated area; after living with so many people for so long, I imagine one just eventually tunes most people out, turning others into a kind of background noise. Again, living in a sparsely populated area has spoiled me into having a certain expectation of privacy, even in public. Out east, privacy doesn't exist, especially in public.
7. Giants Stadium is a shit hole; no wonder why they're building a new one. I mean, they don't even sell nacho cheese with their nachos! Sacrilege, I tell you.
8. The city does not do snow removal very well. This could simply be logistics. It can't be easy trying to remove over a foot of snow when it falls over a major metropolitan area, but on some streets they didn't even try. No wonder why my socks were wet before we even sat down at the football game.
9. LaGuardia Airport is a shit hole. After standing in line for two hours to check our bags, we found out that over half of the Delta/Northwest self check-in kiosks were down due to a power outage. Fine, but it would have been nice to know that while we were waiting. As a result of the massive lack of organization and lack of communication on the part of the Delta/Northwest employees, we missed our flight by 10 minutes and thus had to spend the rest of the day at the airport. The only reason we got out when we did was because they managed to get an extra flight out to Minneapolis at 11:00 that night (our original flight was to leave at 11:00 am). We had to spend the night in the Minneapolis Airport, as our flight home to Sioux Falls didn't leave until 9:00 am. All that is never fun to deal with, but it's especially not fun to deal with when newly pregnant and on the verge of vomiting all day. Because of this horrible experience, I barely left the house for three weeks after we got home. And it will be a long time before I fly again.
10. Celebrities apparently have to go through the same crap the rest of us do. Once we realized we'd be at the airport until 11:00 pm, my husband suggested we find something to eat. Once that was accomplished, my husband wandered off to the bathroom, which was right across the hall from the "restaurant." When he came back, he told me to watch the men's room door. So I did, and a few minutes later, Stephen Colbert walked out of the men's room. He looked at me and my jaw dropped, so I'm sure I looked like a freak. My husband said he was equally as shocked when he realized Colbert was standing next to him at the urinal, but unlike me, I'm sure he managed to contain his excitement. Given their location, that's probably a good thing.
Now I realize that most of this is negative, but it wasn't all bad. The Statue of Liberty was truly cool, and even though I was freaked out, being atop the Empire State Building was breathtaking. The food was good, and the fact that there's a Rite Aid on every corner is certainly convenient. It was awesome spending one-on-one time with my husband, especially since soon we'll have two kiddos fighting for our attention. Overall, though, I think it was just a big culture shock for me, a girl from the Midwest who's lived in a town of about 18,000 people for the past 10 years and who's never travelled much. If nothing else, the trip to New York made me realize how much I love South Dakota, even if it's the last place I ever thought I'd end up. South Dakota is my home, and it took a trip to New York to help me realize there's no place I'd rather be.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Do-Do-Do-Do Dora!
For the longest time, I snobbishly insisted that my child would never watch TV. I looked down upon my friends who let their kids watch episode after episode of Dora the Explorer, and continually spewed forth rhetoric about the downfalls of excess TV viewing, which included (but was not limited to) everything from ADD to apathy, autism to obesity. Clearly, I'd bought into quite a bit of rhetoric myself.
Something happened, though, right before my daughter turned two. Up until then, she never paid much attention to the TV; she always preferred to play or look at books or run around rather than watch TV. Then all of a sudden, she started watching. It all started with The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, which I bought and approved of because I grew up with Pooh and thought he and his friends in the Hundred Acre Wood were adorable. Apparently, my daughter did too. The first time I put the DVD in, she was mesmerized. After a few more times, she danced with the theme music; a few more times and she sat through the whole movie.
I don't remember how it happened, but before I knew it, my daughter was rescuing animals with Diego, exploring with Dora, and learning Mandarin Chinese with Kai-Lan. Within a month or so of beginning her foray into the world of television, I saw a change in her. She started talking more; Dora's map led her to say mom for the first time, and soon after that she started pointing to everything and asking "what's that?" She still loved playing, reading, and running around, but after doing those things all day long at daycare, all she wanted to do when we got home was to sit down and watch a little TV. And I certainly couldn't blame her; most days after work, that's all I want to do for a while. So I let her, and I entered the modern world of children's television programming with her. And honestly, it's not as bad as I thought.
Don't get me wrong, for an adult to watch nick jr. all day is sometimes as torturous as being on hold and listening to bad Muzak for any amount of time, but it's not all bad. Does Dora annoy me? You bet she does. The fact that she constantly yells and clearly can't do anything for herself (as evidenced by the fact that she continually asks for help with the easiest tasks) annoys me more than I can adequately express. Diego suffers from a similar problem (I can only assume that whatever Spanish-speaking culture Dora and Diego come from has never heard of an indoor voice), but at least the music on his show is fun. The Wonder Pets are frickin' adorable, despite the fact that a rodent (hamster), a turtle, and a baby duck are the last pets I would ever allow in my house (with the exception of perhaps a python or a tarantula). Besides, learning about teamwork through a cute, catchy song can't possibly be bad, can it ("What's gonna work? Teamwork!")? Olivia is cute enough, even though pigs freak me out, and the wonderfully classic names of the characters (Olivia, William, Ian, Julian, Francine, Alexandra, etc.) are a fresh break from all the trendy, creative names that abound these days. Max and Ruby (about brother and sister bunnies...why their parents are never around is anyone's guess. I like to think they're in the woods somewhere, making like, well, rabbits) is about as annoying as possible, thanks to Ruby's bossy attitude and her inability to say sandwich correctly (she says "samwich," extra emphasis on the sam). The best children's show that I've seen since turning on the tv for my daughter, though, is undoubtedly The Backyardigans. The Backyardigans features a set of animal friends (Pablo the Penguin, Austin the Kangaroo, Tasha the Hippo, Tyrone the Moose, and Uniqua the Unique...whatever that means) and their backyard adventures. Their backyards are adjoined and in each episode, their imaginations transform their ordinary backyards into anything from an ancient Egyptian civilization along the Nile to a haunted house to a fairy tale village. The characters sing and dance, usually in one specific genre per episode (reggae, Motown, Big Band, etc.). I think I like it more than my daughter does, perhaps because it reminds me of The Muppet Babies, which was my favorite cartoon when I was a little girl. One of the biggest arguments against letting kids watch TV is that TV robs kids of their imaginative skills by filling in all the blanks for them. While that's probably true to an extent, I seem to recall The Muppet Babies giving me countless hours of entertainment, long after I'd shut off the TV. I'd like to think that's what these shows are doing for my daughter: helping to spark interest in imagination, in environments and places and situations vastly different from her structured, routine life.
I certainly don't let her watch TV all day, and I certainly don't let her watch anything inappropriate for her age (no Saw or Girls Gone Wild), but a little TV after a long day is a nice way to unwind, even when you're two. I don't think that Dora has ever killed anyone, although Yo Gabba Gabba may be a different story. But that's another post for another day.
Something happened, though, right before my daughter turned two. Up until then, she never paid much attention to the TV; she always preferred to play or look at books or run around rather than watch TV. Then all of a sudden, she started watching. It all started with The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, which I bought and approved of because I grew up with Pooh and thought he and his friends in the Hundred Acre Wood were adorable. Apparently, my daughter did too. The first time I put the DVD in, she was mesmerized. After a few more times, she danced with the theme music; a few more times and she sat through the whole movie.
I don't remember how it happened, but before I knew it, my daughter was rescuing animals with Diego, exploring with Dora, and learning Mandarin Chinese with Kai-Lan. Within a month or so of beginning her foray into the world of television, I saw a change in her. She started talking more; Dora's map led her to say mom for the first time, and soon after that she started pointing to everything and asking "what's that?" She still loved playing, reading, and running around, but after doing those things all day long at daycare, all she wanted to do when we got home was to sit down and watch a little TV. And I certainly couldn't blame her; most days after work, that's all I want to do for a while. So I let her, and I entered the modern world of children's television programming with her. And honestly, it's not as bad as I thought.
Don't get me wrong, for an adult to watch nick jr. all day is sometimes as torturous as being on hold and listening to bad Muzak for any amount of time, but it's not all bad. Does Dora annoy me? You bet she does. The fact that she constantly yells and clearly can't do anything for herself (as evidenced by the fact that she continually asks for help with the easiest tasks) annoys me more than I can adequately express. Diego suffers from a similar problem (I can only assume that whatever Spanish-speaking culture Dora and Diego come from has never heard of an indoor voice), but at least the music on his show is fun. The Wonder Pets are frickin' adorable, despite the fact that a rodent (hamster), a turtle, and a baby duck are the last pets I would ever allow in my house (with the exception of perhaps a python or a tarantula). Besides, learning about teamwork through a cute, catchy song can't possibly be bad, can it ("What's gonna work? Teamwork!")? Olivia is cute enough, even though pigs freak me out, and the wonderfully classic names of the characters (Olivia, William, Ian, Julian, Francine, Alexandra, etc.) are a fresh break from all the trendy, creative names that abound these days. Max and Ruby (about brother and sister bunnies...why their parents are never around is anyone's guess. I like to think they're in the woods somewhere, making like, well, rabbits) is about as annoying as possible, thanks to Ruby's bossy attitude and her inability to say sandwich correctly (she says "samwich," extra emphasis on the sam). The best children's show that I've seen since turning on the tv for my daughter, though, is undoubtedly The Backyardigans. The Backyardigans features a set of animal friends (Pablo the Penguin, Austin the Kangaroo, Tasha the Hippo, Tyrone the Moose, and Uniqua the Unique...whatever that means) and their backyard adventures. Their backyards are adjoined and in each episode, their imaginations transform their ordinary backyards into anything from an ancient Egyptian civilization along the Nile to a haunted house to a fairy tale village. The characters sing and dance, usually in one specific genre per episode (reggae, Motown, Big Band, etc.). I think I like it more than my daughter does, perhaps because it reminds me of The Muppet Babies, which was my favorite cartoon when I was a little girl. One of the biggest arguments against letting kids watch TV is that TV robs kids of their imaginative skills by filling in all the blanks for them. While that's probably true to an extent, I seem to recall The Muppet Babies giving me countless hours of entertainment, long after I'd shut off the TV. I'd like to think that's what these shows are doing for my daughter: helping to spark interest in imagination, in environments and places and situations vastly different from her structured, routine life.
I certainly don't let her watch TV all day, and I certainly don't let her watch anything inappropriate for her age (no Saw or Girls Gone Wild), but a little TV after a long day is a nice way to unwind, even when you're two. I don't think that Dora has ever killed anyone, although Yo Gabba Gabba may be a different story. But that's another post for another day.
Friday, November 20, 2009
The Seven Year Itch
In the 1955 comedy "The Seven Year Itch," Tom Ewell's character, Richard, lusts after a new neighbor (The Girl) while his wife and children are on vacation in the country. The new neighbor is none other than Marilyn Monroe, who comes calling wearing a sheepish smile and a white halter dress (now emblazoned as an icon on American pop culture). After spending what viewers can only assume is a generous amount of time with his new neighbor, Richard decides not to have an affair with her because he misses his family, and the film ends as Richard rushes off to Maine to visit them.
I'm sorry, but I have to throw the bullshit flag. First of all, The Girl pretty much throws herself at Richard throughout the film. I doubt any man today could resit Marilyn Monroe; I REALLY doubt that any man in 1955 could have resisted her. Second, even the film's review in Variety expressed disappointment that Richard and The Girl never consummate their friendship (and that was in 1955, remember). In either decade, the more likely outcome of the film's premise is an affair, perhaps not a long-lived one, but an affair nonetheless. Why? Because people are human beings (and thus members of the animal kingdom), complete with faults and weaknesses (such as my weakness for brown eyes) and we're predisposed to make mistakes.
This is why monogamy in practice is a bad idea. In theory, it's great; the notion that there's one and only one "soul mate" out there for everyone, whom we'll all find and spend our lives with, is as romantic and lovely-smelling as baby's breath and lace. However, monogamy in practice completely goes against human nature. For starters, human beings are members of the animal kingdom. Animal instincts are strong and forceful motivators of human behavior, including our need to propagate the species. Granted, our sex drive exists independently of our urge to procreate, but they are intertwined nonetheless. Monogamy not only decreases our odds of procreating successfully, it also hinders the gene pool and fosters segregation. As if these biological nuggets weren't enough, there's more. Monogamy limits and defines the relationships we have with one another (but especially the relationships we have with the opposite sex).
Couples in monogamous relationships are assumed to have some sort of connection, a chemistry that they supposedly don't or can't have with anyone else. While this may be true to an extent, I just can't accept that out of almost seven billion people there's only one with whom I'll have chemistry, only one with whom I'll have a connection, only one with whom I could be happy. Of course, our media certainly doesn't help with this at all (then again, what does our media help with?). The picture of monogamy that the media paints is all rainbows and puppy dogs; the story always ends happily, of course, with the man and woman locked in a passionate embrace, sailing (or riding or driving, or whatever the case may be) off into the sunset. Exaggeration aside, this isn't that far off. Movies always seem to end with a perfect kiss, and audiences are just supposed to assume that the characters live happily ever after. Movies rarely show the actual effort that goes into making relationships last, the give and take, the compromise, the work. The butterflies-inducing chemistry that couples have in the beginning of a relationship only lasts so long, and after it fades away like ink on a yellowed newspaper, then the real work of monogamy begins.
At this point, I'm going to undermine the principles of argumentation and everything I've just said by pointing out that my monogamous relationship has been successful. After seven years, I'm still quite happy and content. However, recent events (not limited to my current lust for one of my students and my recent rediscovery of The Bridges of Madison County) have kept this subject on my mind lately. I'm just bitter that all of my other relationships seem to be defined and limited by the fact that I'm married. If I feel a connection with someone else, I feel guilty, as if I've done something wrong, even if I clearly haven't. Friendships with men seem impossible, as I always feel guilty for spending time with men that aren't my husband. Perhaps if we stopped thinking of relationships in such one-dimensional terms, we'd discover that real relationships and real connections don't just exist between a husband and a wife, but they can (and do) exist between anyone and everyone.
I'm sorry, but I have to throw the bullshit flag. First of all, The Girl pretty much throws herself at Richard throughout the film. I doubt any man today could resit Marilyn Monroe; I REALLY doubt that any man in 1955 could have resisted her. Second, even the film's review in Variety expressed disappointment that Richard and The Girl never consummate their friendship (and that was in 1955, remember). In either decade, the more likely outcome of the film's premise is an affair, perhaps not a long-lived one, but an affair nonetheless. Why? Because people are human beings (and thus members of the animal kingdom), complete with faults and weaknesses (such as my weakness for brown eyes) and we're predisposed to make mistakes.
This is why monogamy in practice is a bad idea. In theory, it's great; the notion that there's one and only one "soul mate" out there for everyone, whom we'll all find and spend our lives with, is as romantic and lovely-smelling as baby's breath and lace. However, monogamy in practice completely goes against human nature. For starters, human beings are members of the animal kingdom. Animal instincts are strong and forceful motivators of human behavior, including our need to propagate the species. Granted, our sex drive exists independently of our urge to procreate, but they are intertwined nonetheless. Monogamy not only decreases our odds of procreating successfully, it also hinders the gene pool and fosters segregation. As if these biological nuggets weren't enough, there's more. Monogamy limits and defines the relationships we have with one another (but especially the relationships we have with the opposite sex).
Couples in monogamous relationships are assumed to have some sort of connection, a chemistry that they supposedly don't or can't have with anyone else. While this may be true to an extent, I just can't accept that out of almost seven billion people there's only one with whom I'll have chemistry, only one with whom I'll have a connection, only one with whom I could be happy. Of course, our media certainly doesn't help with this at all (then again, what does our media help with?). The picture of monogamy that the media paints is all rainbows and puppy dogs; the story always ends happily, of course, with the man and woman locked in a passionate embrace, sailing (or riding or driving, or whatever the case may be) off into the sunset. Exaggeration aside, this isn't that far off. Movies always seem to end with a perfect kiss, and audiences are just supposed to assume that the characters live happily ever after. Movies rarely show the actual effort that goes into making relationships last, the give and take, the compromise, the work. The butterflies-inducing chemistry that couples have in the beginning of a relationship only lasts so long, and after it fades away like ink on a yellowed newspaper, then the real work of monogamy begins.
At this point, I'm going to undermine the principles of argumentation and everything I've just said by pointing out that my monogamous relationship has been successful. After seven years, I'm still quite happy and content. However, recent events (not limited to my current lust for one of my students and my recent rediscovery of The Bridges of Madison County) have kept this subject on my mind lately. I'm just bitter that all of my other relationships seem to be defined and limited by the fact that I'm married. If I feel a connection with someone else, I feel guilty, as if I've done something wrong, even if I clearly haven't. Friendships with men seem impossible, as I always feel guilty for spending time with men that aren't my husband. Perhaps if we stopped thinking of relationships in such one-dimensional terms, we'd discover that real relationships and real connections don't just exist between a husband and a wife, but they can (and do) exist between anyone and everyone.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Sweet Child of Mine
Now that my daughter is 15 months old, she's pretty independent. Actually, she's always been that way, but now she can walk and run, she can feed herself (more or less), and she sleeps about 12 hours a night. According to damn near everyone, now's the perfect time for another child. Why my reproductive decisions are anyone's business is beyond me, but when complete strangers are telling me "oh, time for another one," I get pretty annoyed. What if I (we, actually, since this is not entirely my decision) don't want "another one"? What if I (we) think the one that we have is perfect (she is)? What if we want to quit while we're ahead? What if I want another dog instead (believe me, it's tempting)? Besides, my husband is an only child and he's (relatively) normal, so where's the incentive to add to the brood? Another child means countless more sleepless nights, at least two more years of diapers, if we have a boy it means an entire new wardrobe, if we have another girl it means one more wedding, regardless of gender it means one more college fund, one more possibility of health problems or birth defects, one more child to never stop worrying about. It's exhausting just thinking about reproducing again.
In all honesty, I'm certain that we will have another child and that Alexandra will have a brother or sister someday. But when that's going to happen is nobody's business, and until it happens, I'd just like to enjoy the undivided attention I can give to the perfect child I already have. I'm certainly in no rush to contribute yet again to the world's burgeoning population problem (unlike this woman), so until I am, just tell me what a beautiful child I have and leave the discussion about "another one" out of the conversation.
In all honesty, I'm certain that we will have another child and that Alexandra will have a brother or sister someday. But when that's going to happen is nobody's business, and until it happens, I'd just like to enjoy the undivided attention I can give to the perfect child I already have. I'm certainly in no rush to contribute yet again to the world's burgeoning population problem (unlike this woman), so until I am, just tell me what a beautiful child I have and leave the discussion about "another one" out of the conversation.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Hit Me With Your Best Shot
I shouldn't be afraid to vaccinate my child, but when my daughter received her infamous one-year shots, I was. Thanks to celebrities like Jenny McCarthy (who insists that her son's autism was caused by his immunizations) and uber-crunchy, hippy moms who breastfeed their kids into high school (and therefore certainly don't vaccinate), vaccinations nation-wide are on the decline. Between last January and June, there were 131 reported cased of measles in the U.S., the highest number in 12 years. The fear-mongering, it seems, has trickled down from the highest levels of government to big-breasted celebrities. As if I don't feel guilty enough for what I do or don't do as a mother (go to work? you're neglectful...give your kid juice? you're setting her up for obesity and type 2 diabetes), now I have to hear about how every other celeb mom feels about vaccinating, as if being a celebrity and having a medical degree are mutually exclusive. I don't doubt that vaccinations can possibly instigate problems in some kids who are already predisposed to them, but to say that vaccines cause autism is dangerous and unfair. Besides, we seem to be missing the larger picture: a child with autism can live and thrive; a child with the measles (or mumps or small pox) very well may die. Personally, I'd rather have a child with autism than to say I had one that died from the measles.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Winter Wonderland
Well, it's here. Winter has finally come to South Dakota. Here in the extreme eastern part of the state, the snow is wet and heavy and somewhat resembles a K-Mart slushie. In the western part of the state, however, the snow may be the same consistency, but that's where the similarities end. Deadwood and Lead received about 47 inches of snow, according to reports, while the corridor from Rapid City to Spearfish received somewhere between 12-18 inches. Sixty-mile an hour wind gusts caused drifts 10-12 feet high across the central part of the state, stranding over 300 motorists. By the time the storm reached us in the east, it had become weak and deflated. As a result, we only received about 3-5 inches, which is just fine with me. It's just enough to encourage me to curl up on the couch with a blanket, a cup of tea and a stack of essays. Winter Wonderland indeed.
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