Pregnancy is not just a transition into motherhood. It's not just a physical, emotional, and spiritual upheaval of your body and mind.
It's also a transition into an entirely different marketing demographic.
Recently, I've become addicted to baby propaganda (this, along with my physical exhaustion and dehabilitating work schedule, help explain why I haven't blogged in a couple of weeks). Babies don't come with instruction manuals, and there are a wealth of publishers who are trying desperately to fill that void.
Right beside those publishers are the advertisers, gleefully waiting to pounce on eager young mothers-to-be like myself.
September 17, 2006
September 5, 2006
10 Things a Pregnant Woman Never Wants to Hear
As part of my quest to learn every minute detail about my pregnancy, I signed up for a personalized online pregnancy calendar. I just had to type in my due date, and each day I am greeted with a timely factoid about my baby's development.
Sometimes, they are fascinating. "Your baby can now suck her thumb."
Sometimes, they are a little creepy. "Your baby's eyes have formed, but they are on opposite sides of his head."
Most of the time, they're banal little health tips. "Veal liver is an excellent source of iron." (Since everything besides saltine crackers and ginger ale nauseates me on some level, adding veal liver to my diet might qualify as the worst idea I have ever heard)
For some reason, today's tip weirded me out:
Tuesday, September 5. Gestational age: 11 weeks and 4 days. "Your baby has started producing urine."
I'm not sure why I found this slightly disturbing. It seems reasonable enough. What goes in must come out. Also, I couldn't help but wonder what Rasbaby was doing before acquiring this skill - say, yesterday.
I mentioned it to Sam. He didn't flinch.
"So you're peeing for two," he offered constructively.
"Sounds about right," I agreed.
In the grand scheme of things, today's factoid scores a fairly low priority on the list of "Things a pregnant woman doesn't want to hear."
Unfortunately, it's a long list. From the pregnancy books that conclude every chapter with a section about miscarriage, to the alarmist articles touting statistically insignificant links between diet soda and birth defects, to the well-meaning stranger who just wants to tell me what I'm doing wrong, I've heard lots of things that I wish I could have avoided.
By the time Rasbaby is born, I'm sure I'll have 1,000, but I'm still in my first trimester, so here is a top 10 list:
Top 10 things a pregnant woman never wants to hear
10. "Isn't it a little early for you to be showing?"
9. "Restroom not available for public use."
8. "I'm sorry, we're out of cranberry scones. Would you like a cherry filled donut instead?"
7. "My morning sickness never went away. I was throwing up until the day my water broke."
6. "You don't even know the meaning of the word 'exhaustion.' Just wait until you have a newborn to take care of. Then you'll realize how easy you have it now."
5. "By this point, you should have gained 1-3 pounds."
4. "Enjoy them now, because next year at this time, they'll look like deflated footballs."
3. "You can use the microwave as soon as I'm done reheating my leftover Tuna Helper."
2. "My sister's friend was in labor for 52 hours, and then it got even worse..."
1. "Don't you think you might be overreacting?"
Sometimes, they are fascinating. "Your baby can now suck her thumb."
Sometimes, they are a little creepy. "Your baby's eyes have formed, but they are on opposite sides of his head."
Most of the time, they're banal little health tips. "Veal liver is an excellent source of iron." (Since everything besides saltine crackers and ginger ale nauseates me on some level, adding veal liver to my diet might qualify as the worst idea I have ever heard)
For some reason, today's tip weirded me out:
Tuesday, September 5. Gestational age: 11 weeks and 4 days. "Your baby has started producing urine."
I'm not sure why I found this slightly disturbing. It seems reasonable enough. What goes in must come out. Also, I couldn't help but wonder what Rasbaby was doing before acquiring this skill - say, yesterday.
I mentioned it to Sam. He didn't flinch.
"So you're peeing for two," he offered constructively.
"Sounds about right," I agreed.
In the grand scheme of things, today's factoid scores a fairly low priority on the list of "Things a pregnant woman doesn't want to hear."
Unfortunately, it's a long list. From the pregnancy books that conclude every chapter with a section about miscarriage, to the alarmist articles touting statistically insignificant links between diet soda and birth defects, to the well-meaning stranger who just wants to tell me what I'm doing wrong, I've heard lots of things that I wish I could have avoided.
By the time Rasbaby is born, I'm sure I'll have 1,000, but I'm still in my first trimester, so here is a top 10 list:
Top 10 things a pregnant woman never wants to hear
10. "Isn't it a little early for you to be showing?"
9. "Restroom not available for public use."
8. "I'm sorry, we're out of cranberry scones. Would you like a cherry filled donut instead?"
7. "My morning sickness never went away. I was throwing up until the day my water broke."
6. "You don't even know the meaning of the word 'exhaustion.' Just wait until you have a newborn to take care of. Then you'll realize how easy you have it now."
5. "By this point, you should have gained 1-3 pounds."
4. "Enjoy them now, because next year at this time, they'll look like deflated footballs."
3. "You can use the microwave as soon as I'm done reheating my leftover Tuna Helper."
2. "My sister's friend was in labor for 52 hours, and then it got even worse..."
1. "Don't you think you might be overreacting?"
August 24, 2006
The addictive properties of ultrasound, and other dangers
I have a confession to make.
I'm a peeker.
I always have been.
When I was growing up, I knew exactly where my mother stashed the Christmas gifts. She kept them in the walk-in closet in her bedroom, and in her mind, the holiday shopping season began with Labor Day sales.
Throughout the glorious fall months, my brother and I would eagerly wait for our mother to leave the house, then we would sneak into the closet and examine the wares. This jigsaw puzzle is clearly for Monica... but which one of us gets the Legos?
I'm a peeker.
I always have been.
When I was growing up, I knew exactly where my mother stashed the Christmas gifts. She kept them in the walk-in closet in her bedroom, and in her mind, the holiday shopping season began with Labor Day sales.
Throughout the glorious fall months, my brother and I would eagerly wait for our mother to leave the house, then we would sneak into the closet and examine the wares. This jigsaw puzzle is clearly for Monica... but which one of us gets the Legos?
August 14, 2006
Joyeux Anniversaire, Papa
There is one story that has echoed around me throughout my life. It starts in Communist Poland, and it ends in Fargo, North Dakota.
The version I have heard the most is a story of courage, patriotism, and a fervent pursuit of the American dream. This is the story that I retold in every grade school essay competition and scholarship application. It's the story I told in my college graduation speech. It's the story I told in his obituary.
There's another version that I prefer to tell my friends over cocktails. I didn't learn it until I was in my 20s, but it has the twists and turns of a suspense novel. The "spy mission" he accepted in order to leave the country. The secretive, hurried departure, presumably never to return. My mother's repeated breakdowns in embassies, as she struggled with the idea of leaving her homeland and family behind forever. Their constant flight from the Polish secret police, who tapped their phone lines and intercepted their mail.
The version I have heard the most is a story of courage, patriotism, and a fervent pursuit of the American dream. This is the story that I retold in every grade school essay competition and scholarship application. It's the story I told in my college graduation speech. It's the story I told in his obituary.
There's another version that I prefer to tell my friends over cocktails. I didn't learn it until I was in my 20s, but it has the twists and turns of a suspense novel. The "spy mission" he accepted in order to leave the country. The secretive, hurried departure, presumably never to return. My mother's repeated breakdowns in embassies, as she struggled with the idea of leaving her homeland and family behind forever. Their constant flight from the Polish secret police, who tapped their phone lines and intercepted their mail.
August 13, 2006
Hormones and stress and dreams about fish
This has been a crazy week.
Many unwritten blogs have come and gone, fluttering into my consciousness, and then away just as quickly. Hummingbirdlike.
Some were funny. Some were poignant. There was an angry story in there, but I couldn't bring myself to write it.
What a week.
Sam gave the baby a nickname. Thanks to one of my myriad pregnancy books, I discovered that in the eighth week, the embryo is about the size of a small raspberry. Hence, Rasbaby.
Many unwritten blogs have come and gone, fluttering into my consciousness, and then away just as quickly. Hummingbirdlike.
Some were funny. Some were poignant. There was an angry story in there, but I couldn't bring myself to write it.
What a week.
Sam gave the baby a nickname. Thanks to one of my myriad pregnancy books, I discovered that in the eighth week, the embryo is about the size of a small raspberry. Hence, Rasbaby.
August 5, 2006
Next year, I'm dressing as a Communist and hiding at home.
'Tis the weekend of Hot August Nights.
Hot August Nights is Reno's big tourist frenzy. The population of the town triples, taking us from the "Biggest Little City in the World" to "A Moderately Big City With Crappy Infrastructure."
What is it that brings so many people here?
Cars.
Not cars like this one:
Nope. People flock to Reno, so they can look at cars like this one:
If you've been reading my blogs for awhile, you probably know my opinion on the subject of cars.
In summary, big cars fail to impress me. Old cars don't do much for me either.
Occasionally, I will spot a car that makes me pause and say "Ooh, that's kind of neat."
A restored Model T, for example:
Or an Art Car driving through town on its way to Burning Man:
... But cars from the '50s, not so much.
1950s nostalgia is a huge part of Hot August Nights.
Not only do people stand and gawk at the cars, they also dress up like characters form the Archie comics. There are street dances called sock-hops. There are Elvis impersonators. There are "Grease" revivals.
I'll be honest.
I wasn't alive in the 1950s.
Neither were most people who really enjoy Hot August Nights.
But I still think it's a weird decade to glorify.
When I think of the '50s, I think of racial inequality, Communist witch-hunts, and women who "know their place."
I'm sure there were some people who truly enjoyed the '50s. They sat in diners drinking malts, listening to Elvis and Chubby Checker on the jukebox, and then went for long drives under the stars in their oversized convertibles.
However, I just don't believe that most people lived this way.
I think that glorifying a time period glosses over the very real progress that we have made since then.
The Feminist Movement. The Civil Rights Movement. Do we really think life used to be better before they happened?
Maybe I should lighten up.
It's just a car show, really.
If people want to dress their children in poodle skirts and drive their old cars under the Reno arch, why should it bother me?
And, aside from the traffic, it really doesn't bother me that much.
It's good for the local economy.
People have fun.
Still, if I ran Reno, I'd want a tourist event that celebrated a more appealing decade.
Imagine if we could bring 700,000 people to Reno for a Roaring '20s weekend, with flappers, gangsters, and bathtub moonshine for everyone. The casinos would make a fortune!
Or the 1970s. We could celebrate the good (contraception, environmentalism) while playfully satirizing the rest (Watergate, hot pants).
I would even attend the car show.
I'd head downtown to watch them drive under the arch. How about you?
Hot August Nights is Reno's big tourist frenzy. The population of the town triples, taking us from the "Biggest Little City in the World" to "A Moderately Big City With Crappy Infrastructure."
What is it that brings so many people here?
Cars.
Not cars like this one:
Nope. People flock to Reno, so they can look at cars like this one:
If you've been reading my blogs for awhile, you probably know my opinion on the subject of cars.
In summary, big cars fail to impress me. Old cars don't do much for me either.
Occasionally, I will spot a car that makes me pause and say "Ooh, that's kind of neat."
A restored Model T, for example:
Or an Art Car driving through town on its way to Burning Man:
... But cars from the '50s, not so much.
1950s nostalgia is a huge part of Hot August Nights.
Not only do people stand and gawk at the cars, they also dress up like characters form the Archie comics. There are street dances called sock-hops. There are Elvis impersonators. There are "Grease" revivals.
I'll be honest.
I wasn't alive in the 1950s.
Neither were most people who really enjoy Hot August Nights.
But I still think it's a weird decade to glorify.
When I think of the '50s, I think of racial inequality, Communist witch-hunts, and women who "know their place."
I'm sure there were some people who truly enjoyed the '50s. They sat in diners drinking malts, listening to Elvis and Chubby Checker on the jukebox, and then went for long drives under the stars in their oversized convertibles.
However, I just don't believe that most people lived this way.
I think that glorifying a time period glosses over the very real progress that we have made since then.
The Feminist Movement. The Civil Rights Movement. Do we really think life used to be better before they happened?
Maybe I should lighten up.
It's just a car show, really.
If people want to dress their children in poodle skirts and drive their old cars under the Reno arch, why should it bother me?
And, aside from the traffic, it really doesn't bother me that much.
It's good for the local economy.
People have fun.
Still, if I ran Reno, I'd want a tourist event that celebrated a more appealing decade.
Imagine if we could bring 700,000 people to Reno for a Roaring '20s weekend, with flappers, gangsters, and bathtub moonshine for everyone. The casinos would make a fortune!
Or the 1970s. We could celebrate the good (contraception, environmentalism) while playfully satirizing the rest (Watergate, hot pants).
I would even attend the car show.
I'd head downtown to watch them drive under the arch. How about you?
July 30, 2006
No beer and no caffeine make Monica something something
Homer Simpson: All right, brain, you don't like me and I don't like you, but let's get me through this, and I can get back to slowly killing you with beer."
Homer's Brain: It's a deal!
Replace the word "brain" with "body," and that could be my internal monologue of the past 20-some years.
My passive-aggressive abuse of my body has not been limited to beer. When I think about all the suntans, late nights drinking Vodka Red Bulls, brutally long work weeks, cigarettes, fad diets, car rides without seat belts... it seems like a wonder that I've survived this long.
Homer Simpson: Shut up, brain, or I'll stab you with a Q-Tip!"
Homer's Brain: It's a deal!
Replace the word "brain" with "body," and that could be my internal monologue of the past 20-some years.
My passive-aggressive abuse of my body has not been limited to beer. When I think about all the suntans, late nights drinking Vodka Red Bulls, brutally long work weeks, cigarettes, fad diets, car rides without seat belts... it seems like a wonder that I've survived this long.
Homer Simpson: Shut up, brain, or I'll stab you with a Q-Tip!"
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