Yesterday, I decided it was time to take the next steps in making this the most popular blog on all of the interwebs; I created a Facebook page. If you're just joining us (perhaps from Facebook), welcome! So happy you're here! Or maybe you're a fan but haven't visited in a while. Welcome back! I'm equally happy that you're here! Scroll down, there's been a lot going on. Like we bought a robot, and also I don't have the plague!
In other news, the quest for fame and fortune via this blog exclusively (as opposed to real work and actual talent) hasn't been going super fantastically. My hope was the BJ Novak would make this blog the hottest thing around without me having to do anything at all (see post "Dear BJ Novak, Thank you for reading my blog").
By now I should have several million followers if BJ would have held up his end of the bargain, but he has very disappointingly fallen short of his obligation to me. So, it's clear that this is going to have to be a grassroots campaign.
I firmly believe that through your support and the help of the Facebook my career will skyrocket, and by proxy so will yours. Obviously. So, if you haven't visited the FB page, please do. I promise to post "exclusive content," let you know about new posts and provide exciting and entertaining things there. Like unicorn pictures.
Also if you'd like to follow the blog- which you absolutely should- there's a little box at the top left of the screen that says "Follow by Email." Just type your email in there and you'll get a notice whenever I post anything. Hooray!
In the meantime, thank you so much for coming by and reading my blatherings; it means a lot, really it does. I know you could be on YouTube, taking Facebook quizzes or redecorating your life on Pinterest, but you're here. Which is why I do this, for you, the fans. And the possibility of a someday book deal, and the hope of being on "Fresh Air" with Terry Gross to promote said book deal, which is my ultimate goal in life.
Kisses!!
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Thursday, June 19, 2014
My roommate
We're having sleep issues. I think this is mostly due to the fact that my bladder can't make it more than four hours at a stretch, so I am now constantly waking up in the middle of the night to waddle my way to the bathroom.
Unfortunately for Brad, this is now his issue as well since when I come back, I'm PISSED that he's asleep and I'm not, and he's SNORING.
In all fairness, let me first say that Brad doesn't really snore. It's more like heavy breathing with the occasional mini-snore. I am very thankful that I did not marry a "real snorer" because, honestly, I don't think our marriage would have lasted very long.
On the flip side, I have always had issues with sleep (falling asleep, staying asleep, spelling asleep which I used to spell a sleep). So I take sleeping very seriously, and when I am awoken, it is as though an act of terrible injustice has been committed and I must avenge myself. Long story short, I am a bad person and Brad is annoying.
This "issue" has always been solved a by a very elaborate nightly routine involving a fan, my cell phone set to white noise with the volume all the way up, two ear plugs and a sleep mask (for the light, obviously, not the sound. Light is just as annoying as sound). I would then race Brad to see who could fall asleep the fastest, going so far as to ask him to actively keep himself awake a little longer so I could have a head start.
Most of the time this worked, unless I woke up. Then it was just a matter of kindly and gently nudging Brad on the shoulder and asking him to please stop snoring and turn over.
Usually that worked and then I just went back to sleep. However, now that this is happening several times a night, I'm not as easily falling back to sleep and Brad is saying things like "You are the meanest person I know." and "You make my life miserable." Clearly there had to be another solution, and its name was guest bedroom.
I had pulled this trick before, in the most desperate of times. Only now, we've moved the guest bedroom. What was the guest bedroom is now the baby room, and what was the "workout room" (read room with an elliptical in it but mostly just all our other random junk) is now the guest bedroom.
It's a lovely room, it really is. We had it repainted, moved all the guest furniture in there, hung pictures. It's lovely. But it's scary.
If you're ever going to sleep at my house, just stop reading now because I don't want to taint the guest bedroom for you....and since there are about eight of you who read this thing and I know all of you, that should be pretty much everyone who reads this blog.
To the one person left whom I don't know, I feel like that room is maybe haunted. I don't know why. Our house was built in 2000, is not over an Indian burial site (that I know of), and has never ever felt haunted in any other way, but that guest room just creeps me out.
The first night I went up there, for some reason I couldn't stop thinking about that terrible movie "Paranormal Activity." It's the one where it's all "video" footage in a normal looking house with a cute couple, and then at night there's this demon being that comes into the bedroom and posses the lady. That house looked normal, just like ours, and there was clearly a haunting for no good reason.
Maybe the haunting is explained later or in a sequel, but I don't remember so I assume it was because they had a bad home builder or didn't pay their HOA fees.
Anyway, then, the next time I went up there, I swear I heard someone knock on the bedroom door. I thought it must be one of the cats so I went to open it...and no one was there.
That night I made a choice between haunting and snoring, and snoring won.
I'm sure there is nothing haunting that room. It didn't feel haunted when it was the workout room (although to be fair, I rarely workout so I wasn't in there that much). To convince myself, I have now gone into that room in the day and said things like "There is nothing in here." "This is not a haunted room." "This is a great room!" "Go away haunting!" But then I run away.
I think it's fine, really, but I have now explained to Brad that I am scared of that room and he has to go up there to sleep. Since he won't get up in the middle of the night to go, we now part ways at bedtime saying "Good night, roommate!" "Good night, roommate!", and I go to sleep in our normal, non-haunted bedroom and Brad takes his chances upstairs.
So far, he has not been possessed, and we are both sleeping much better. I do worry that this is not good for our marriage, but I don't care right now. Between snoring, haunting and sleeping, sleeping wins every single time.
Unfortunately for Brad, this is now his issue as well since when I come back, I'm PISSED that he's asleep and I'm not, and he's SNORING.
In all fairness, let me first say that Brad doesn't really snore. It's more like heavy breathing with the occasional mini-snore. I am very thankful that I did not marry a "real snorer" because, honestly, I don't think our marriage would have lasted very long.
On the flip side, I have always had issues with sleep (falling asleep, staying asleep, spelling asleep which I used to spell a sleep). So I take sleeping very seriously, and when I am awoken, it is as though an act of terrible injustice has been committed and I must avenge myself. Long story short, I am a bad person and Brad is annoying.
This "issue" has always been solved a by a very elaborate nightly routine involving a fan, my cell phone set to white noise with the volume all the way up, two ear plugs and a sleep mask (for the light, obviously, not the sound. Light is just as annoying as sound). I would then race Brad to see who could fall asleep the fastest, going so far as to ask him to actively keep himself awake a little longer so I could have a head start.
Most of the time this worked, unless I woke up. Then it was just a matter of kindly and gently nudging Brad on the shoulder and asking him to please stop snoring and turn over.
Usually that worked and then I just went back to sleep. However, now that this is happening several times a night, I'm not as easily falling back to sleep and Brad is saying things like "You are the meanest person I know." and "You make my life miserable." Clearly there had to be another solution, and its name was guest bedroom.
I had pulled this trick before, in the most desperate of times. Only now, we've moved the guest bedroom. What was the guest bedroom is now the baby room, and what was the "workout room" (read room with an elliptical in it but mostly just all our other random junk) is now the guest bedroom.
It's a lovely room, it really is. We had it repainted, moved all the guest furniture in there, hung pictures. It's lovely. But it's scary.
If you're ever going to sleep at my house, just stop reading now because I don't want to taint the guest bedroom for you....and since there are about eight of you who read this thing and I know all of you, that should be pretty much everyone who reads this blog.
To the one person left whom I don't know, I feel like that room is maybe haunted. I don't know why. Our house was built in 2000, is not over an Indian burial site (that I know of), and has never ever felt haunted in any other way, but that guest room just creeps me out.
The first night I went up there, for some reason I couldn't stop thinking about that terrible movie "Paranormal Activity." It's the one where it's all "video" footage in a normal looking house with a cute couple, and then at night there's this demon being that comes into the bedroom and posses the lady. That house looked normal, just like ours, and there was clearly a haunting for no good reason.
Maybe the haunting is explained later or in a sequel, but I don't remember so I assume it was because they had a bad home builder or didn't pay their HOA fees.
Anyway, then, the next time I went up there, I swear I heard someone knock on the bedroom door. I thought it must be one of the cats so I went to open it...and no one was there.
That night I made a choice between haunting and snoring, and snoring won.
I'm sure there is nothing haunting that room. It didn't feel haunted when it was the workout room (although to be fair, I rarely workout so I wasn't in there that much). To convince myself, I have now gone into that room in the day and said things like "There is nothing in here." "This is not a haunted room." "This is a great room!" "Go away haunting!" But then I run away.
I think it's fine, really, but I have now explained to Brad that I am scared of that room and he has to go up there to sleep. Since he won't get up in the middle of the night to go, we now part ways at bedtime saying "Good night, roommate!" "Good night, roommate!", and I go to sleep in our normal, non-haunted bedroom and Brad takes his chances upstairs.
So far, he has not been possessed, and we are both sleeping much better. I do worry that this is not good for our marriage, but I don't care right now. Between snoring, haunting and sleeping, sleeping wins every single time.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
So, would that make me a cannibal?
*Warning- this is a kind of gross post. While I will not describe anything that has actually happened to me or anything related to birth in great detail, I'm just telling you now, there is a gross factor. Maybe. Or maybe you won't think it's gross. I don't know. Either way, you've been warned.
I live in what has been described as a hippie town. I think this is relative, but there are aspects of earthiness, some of which I embrace- like recycling, equality, and yoga. So, when it comes to birth, there are lots of options and things that are available to us here that wouldn't be in our hometowns, and that I felt Brad and I needed to be educated on in order to make informed decisions. Doulas being one of them.
I was vaguely familiar with what a doula does, but learned more from a friend in yoga. Basically they are a non-medical birth coach. Not to be confused (which I did) with a midwife who does do medical things and who I equate with a modern witch doctor, in a good way. As one doula put it, they're like the choreographer who doesn't do any dancing.
It was all very mystical sounding, and I thought maybe we should check it out. Brad was not really on board. "This sounds hippie and earthy," I believe were his exact words.
But, because I'm the boss of him and he loves me, I drug him to a Doula Meet and Greet with the promise that there would be food. It was called "Eat, Drink, Doula" so I thought maybe there would also be beer. I told him there would be beer.
When we got there the food turned out to be a few oatmeal cookies and the drink was water. Brad was overjoyed. "When can we leave?" he wanted to know after being there for two minutes.
The doula leader, Marianne, was very nice and didn't seem too weird. She asked us all to sit in a circle and please help ourselves to the refreshments. Brad refused to even eat one cookie, I'm pretty sure to show me how much he didn't want to be there.
"Thank you all for coming," said Marianne. "First, some of you may be unfamiliar with doulas, and maybe you have an idea that this is hippie, granola stuff," she said.
"Yes!" I thought, she gets it. Brad will come around.
"Doulas are nothing more than a coach. We're here to help you and your partner."
She gave a very good, funny talk, and I thought things were going well. Brad seemed more at ease. Then, she dropped the bomb.
"Now, before we break out into groups, I'd like to go through one other service we offer."
"Oh no," I thought. "Please don't let it be anything weird. Please don't let it be anything weird."
"Placenta Encapsulation."
My head imploded.
"It's okay to smile," said Marianne, "it's a taboo topic in our culture, and many people are unfamiliar and uncomfortable with the idea." I couldn't help it, I laughed a little.
Shit, this was not going well. I had just broken my solidarity with Marianne and now Brad was sitting straight up in his chair and smiling. He had just gone from actively disengaged to very much engaged and ready to mess with Marianne.
Marianne explained that eating the placenta is very beneficial. It's been shown to stabilize hormones, prevent post-pardom depression, increase milk production and also gives you wings.
"Also, humans are the only mammals that do not eat their placenta," said Marianne. As if that was the resounding final fact that would convince us.
"Excuse me," said Brad. "Did you say humans are the only mammals that don't do this?"
"Yes," said Marianne, "even giraffes eat the placenta. I was told they don't, but then I did some research and found out that they do!"
"Mmmhmm," said Brad. "And what other societies are doing this?" he asked. Not that he really cared, mind you.
"Well, it's done all over the world," said Marianne.
"Like where?"
"Well, it's very big in Scandinavia. And I believe Switzerland." Efff, Marianne! Those are the same. Brad was smiling...a lot.
"Interesting. So, what's the process like?" asked Brad. "Can we grill it?" Uuuuuuuuuuuuugh!
"Oh, haha, no," said Marianne. "We have two options."
Marianne explained that we could choose to have it dehydrated, crushed into powder form and put in a pill. Then you just take the pill every day. "Some women even save them for menopause!"
Or, the other, better option is that they will cut it up into little circles and put them in individual freezer baggies and then you just plop them in your smoothie in the mornings!
"So, raw?" I asked. "I would eat it raw?"
"Oh yes, that's when you get the most nutritional value. I promise you don't taste it! I made one and had my mom try it, and she was very skeptical, and even she said she couldn't taste a thing!"
There is a potential problem though. Some hospitals might not release your placenta to you. If that's the case, you'll need either a court order or a letter from a mortician (I don't know why, maybe it's considered dead?) to get it released. Not to worry though, they have recommendations for a mortician in town who will do it for half the price of the court order! Fantastic!
"God bless Capitalism," said Brad.
Okay, let's pause. Now look. If you want to eat your own placenta, whatever, that's your journey. I was even thinking, at first, "Okay, well if it's really this beneficial, maybe I could do the pill thing." But then, I decided to look some of this up, and here's what I found out about "Placentophagy" (which is the offical name for eating your own placenta).
First, I didn't find anything that said all mammals do it. In fact, camels, seals, whales and dolphins do not partake*. Marsupials don't either since everything just gets sucked back into their pouches, but they're only kind of mammals so I guess we'll let them off the hook. Sorry kangaroos.
Also, I couldn't find any recent, double blind, human studies (and I looked, not that hard but I looked) on the effects of human placentophagy. Therefore, evidence is anecdotal, based on studies done on non-primate mammals, like rats, or very old (like 1918) and spotty on methodology. This was one the best sites I found PlacentaWise , but nothing in JAMA, nothing from Johns Hopkins, etc.
Additionally, it is thought that the two primary reasons for mammals to do this are:
1. To erase traces of birth so that predators don't come into the area. Makes sense that a large bloody thing on the ground could attract predators.
2. May have some nutritional value and hormonal benefits. Some of the hormones are thought to help shrink the uterus and help with all that gross after birth stuff that happens. This, incidentally, is one of the reasons proponents say humans should be eating their placentas.
Here's the deal though, there will, hopefully, be no predators in the hospital room, and they give you DRUGS that do all the same stuff (shrinking, etc.).
If you're thinking, "Well maybe people don't want the drugs, so that's why you should do it." That means you'd have have eat the placenta in the hospital room right after you gave birth to get these same benefits that haven't been proven in humans. "Nurse! Hand me a fork!"
Again, if you're for this, yeehaw Sisterfriend. I got nothing but love for you, and I hope it goes well and that you get all the hormonal value out of doing it. Maybe I'm on the wrong side of history here.
I'm just saying that until I see a real medical journal publish something in this century saying that this is a real thing, I'm not paying a mortician to collect and then someone else to cut up something that was inside my body for me to drink in smoothie form. I don't care that January Jones did it either.
Long story short, we left without signing up for either a doula or the Placenta Encapsulation service and got burritos. I'm still really thinking about the whole doula thing though, which I think could be very helpful. Brad has gone back to not eating granola, so we'll see if he can come around.
Sigh. If only they'd served beer.
*Wikipedia-Placentophagy
I live in what has been described as a hippie town. I think this is relative, but there are aspects of earthiness, some of which I embrace- like recycling, equality, and yoga. So, when it comes to birth, there are lots of options and things that are available to us here that wouldn't be in our hometowns, and that I felt Brad and I needed to be educated on in order to make informed decisions. Doulas being one of them.
I was vaguely familiar with what a doula does, but learned more from a friend in yoga. Basically they are a non-medical birth coach. Not to be confused (which I did) with a midwife who does do medical things and who I equate with a modern witch doctor, in a good way. As one doula put it, they're like the choreographer who doesn't do any dancing.
It was all very mystical sounding, and I thought maybe we should check it out. Brad was not really on board. "This sounds hippie and earthy," I believe were his exact words.
But, because I'm the boss of him and he loves me, I drug him to a Doula Meet and Greet with the promise that there would be food. It was called "Eat, Drink, Doula" so I thought maybe there would also be beer. I told him there would be beer.
When we got there the food turned out to be a few oatmeal cookies and the drink was water. Brad was overjoyed. "When can we leave?" he wanted to know after being there for two minutes.
The doula leader, Marianne, was very nice and didn't seem too weird. She asked us all to sit in a circle and please help ourselves to the refreshments. Brad refused to even eat one cookie, I'm pretty sure to show me how much he didn't want to be there.
"Thank you all for coming," said Marianne. "First, some of you may be unfamiliar with doulas, and maybe you have an idea that this is hippie, granola stuff," she said.
"Yes!" I thought, she gets it. Brad will come around.
"Doulas are nothing more than a coach. We're here to help you and your partner."
She gave a very good, funny talk, and I thought things were going well. Brad seemed more at ease. Then, she dropped the bomb.
"Now, before we break out into groups, I'd like to go through one other service we offer."
"Oh no," I thought. "Please don't let it be anything weird. Please don't let it be anything weird."
"Placenta Encapsulation."
My head imploded.
"It's okay to smile," said Marianne, "it's a taboo topic in our culture, and many people are unfamiliar and uncomfortable with the idea." I couldn't help it, I laughed a little.
Shit, this was not going well. I had just broken my solidarity with Marianne and now Brad was sitting straight up in his chair and smiling. He had just gone from actively disengaged to very much engaged and ready to mess with Marianne.
Marianne explained that eating the placenta is very beneficial. It's been shown to stabilize hormones, prevent post-pardom depression, increase milk production and also gives you wings.
"Also, humans are the only mammals that do not eat their placenta," said Marianne. As if that was the resounding final fact that would convince us.
"Excuse me," said Brad. "Did you say humans are the only mammals that don't do this?"
"Yes," said Marianne, "even giraffes eat the placenta. I was told they don't, but then I did some research and found out that they do!"
"Mmmhmm," said Brad. "And what other societies are doing this?" he asked. Not that he really cared, mind you.
"Well, it's done all over the world," said Marianne.
"Like where?"
"Well, it's very big in Scandinavia. And I believe Switzerland." Efff, Marianne! Those are the same. Brad was smiling...a lot.
"Interesting. So, what's the process like?" asked Brad. "Can we grill it?" Uuuuuuuuuuuuugh!
"Oh, haha, no," said Marianne. "We have two options."
Marianne explained that we could choose to have it dehydrated, crushed into powder form and put in a pill. Then you just take the pill every day. "Some women even save them for menopause!"
Or, the other, better option is that they will cut it up into little circles and put them in individual freezer baggies and then you just plop them in your smoothie in the mornings!
"So, raw?" I asked. "I would eat it raw?"
"Oh yes, that's when you get the most nutritional value. I promise you don't taste it! I made one and had my mom try it, and she was very skeptical, and even she said she couldn't taste a thing!"
There is a potential problem though. Some hospitals might not release your placenta to you. If that's the case, you'll need either a court order or a letter from a mortician (I don't know why, maybe it's considered dead?) to get it released. Not to worry though, they have recommendations for a mortician in town who will do it for half the price of the court order! Fantastic!
"God bless Capitalism," said Brad.
Okay, let's pause. Now look. If you want to eat your own placenta, whatever, that's your journey. I was even thinking, at first, "Okay, well if it's really this beneficial, maybe I could do the pill thing." But then, I decided to look some of this up, and here's what I found out about "Placentophagy" (which is the offical name for eating your own placenta).
First, I didn't find anything that said all mammals do it. In fact, camels, seals, whales and dolphins do not partake*. Marsupials don't either since everything just gets sucked back into their pouches, but they're only kind of mammals so I guess we'll let them off the hook. Sorry kangaroos.
Also, I couldn't find any recent, double blind, human studies (and I looked, not that hard but I looked) on the effects of human placentophagy. Therefore, evidence is anecdotal, based on studies done on non-primate mammals, like rats, or very old (like 1918) and spotty on methodology. This was one the best sites I found PlacentaWise , but nothing in JAMA, nothing from Johns Hopkins, etc.
Additionally, it is thought that the two primary reasons for mammals to do this are:
1. To erase traces of birth so that predators don't come into the area. Makes sense that a large bloody thing on the ground could attract predators.
2. May have some nutritional value and hormonal benefits. Some of the hormones are thought to help shrink the uterus and help with all that gross after birth stuff that happens. This, incidentally, is one of the reasons proponents say humans should be eating their placentas.
Here's the deal though, there will, hopefully, be no predators in the hospital room, and they give you DRUGS that do all the same stuff (shrinking, etc.).
If you're thinking, "Well maybe people don't want the drugs, so that's why you should do it." That means you'd have have eat the placenta in the hospital room right after you gave birth to get these same benefits that haven't been proven in humans. "Nurse! Hand me a fork!"
Again, if you're for this, yeehaw Sisterfriend. I got nothing but love for you, and I hope it goes well and that you get all the hormonal value out of doing it. Maybe I'm on the wrong side of history here.
I'm just saying that until I see a real medical journal publish something in this century saying that this is a real thing, I'm not paying a mortician to collect and then someone else to cut up something that was inside my body for me to drink in smoothie form. I don't care that January Jones did it either.
Long story short, we left without signing up for either a doula or the Placenta Encapsulation service and got burritos. I'm still really thinking about the whole doula thing though, which I think could be very helpful. Brad has gone back to not eating granola, so we'll see if he can come around.
Sigh. If only they'd served beer.
*Wikipedia-Placentophagy
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