I hate my gynecologist

I do not like my gynecologist. He's never missed a big problem or pushed for unnecessary procedures or anything big like that, he's just....condescending. He has kind of a "I can't be bothered to dumb this down for you right now, I'm a busy man so just take my word for it, everything's fine" vibe that rubs me the wrong way. I like doctors who explain things to me, who don't lord it over me that they have medical degrees and I don't. And if there's one time in my life when I don't need to feel patronized and barely tolerated if not resented, it's when I'm in the stirrups. But since I can get my paps from my nurse practitioner here in town, who I absolutely love, I never worried much about shopping around for a gynecologist. Until now. Now I have a very limited period of time in which to try to find a doctor I am willing to trust with my unborn child's health and/or survival.

I didn't have this problem when I was pregnant ten years ago. There was one obstetrician who saw patients here in town (nearest hospital with a maternity ward is fifteen miles away) and he turned out to be perfect. He was personable without being unprofessional and he put me at ease. And then he moved to Dekalb. So that left only three other doctors at the clinic, none of which was willing to drive all the way to my little pissant town. But then one of them left. So now there are two. And I really have to hope that the one I know nothing about is taking new patients AND isn't an asshole.

Never again will I have a gynecologist I don't like. From now on it's only the cream of the gynecological crop for me. I henceforth shall demand perfection with a speculum! Either that or I have approximately seven and a half months to convince my nurse practitioner to take extra classes, get her through the classes, and license her with a hospital.

New Year's Eve Eve

Pregnant on New Year's. And Tom's back on the road. What's a girl to do?

So Ryan and I are having a party, a VERY exclusive and formal party. We are going to drink fake wine and get fake drunk and wake up the next morning with fake hangovers. We'll probably spend the whole night listening to her new Hannah Montana CD and playing giant checkers on a rug. And next year we'll do the same thing, but I'll try to sleep on the couch between moves and we'll keep the music down so the baby can sleep.

I love motherhood, but I got to admit the New Year celebrations are pretty tame.

Christmas Eve Eve

Ahhh. Christmas Eve Eve. Today is the day of my extended family's holiday celebration, which means that Mom will pick up Ryan and take her while Tom and I stay here and avoid my extended family. It's what the holidays are all about.

My family is a lot like the character list of Soap, with some Knots Landing thrown in for good measure. My grandmother you've already been told about but in case you missed that post, imagine Bev from "Roseanne" in Kurt Vonnegut's body. Then there's my uncle the religious freak and his 5 daughters. The oldest three are religious freaks like their dad, but with tattoos they think no one knows about, and the youngest two are adopted foster kids who keep getting arrested and are on a distinctly Spears-Lohan life path. My aunt, the socialite, was living in a swamp in Louisiana with her carnival worker husband when I was born, but then she married her divorce lawyer and he became a judge and she got a big house on a hill with a pool and now she thinks she's Martha Freaking Stewart or something even though her son did time in Leavenworth for manufacturing crystal meth in his dad's minivan. But her grown kids live in nice houses with nice things because she buys them for them. And in this big jumbled heap of family, I am the black sheep. Drug addictions, federal prison sentences, stints in rehab, none of these things is enough to bring any of my cousins down to my level. So I avoid the whole shebang.

I used to go to family Christmas. I would spend the whole night on my aunt's porch smoking with my uncle's wife and my aunt's husband. Sure, every once in a while Grandma would come shuffling in looking for whatever small child had run away from her that time, but for the most part is was just us smokers. But my uncle by marriage died, and my aunt by marriage left her fire-and-brimstone husband, I quit smoking, and the party this year is at my grandmother's small house, with nowhere to hide. So rather than go and try not to defend the woman I still consider to be my aunt to a house full of her ex-in-laws, I will hide like the coward that I am. Also, my cousin Dana is pregnant too, due one month earlier than me, and I don't want to face the comparisons.

But maybe I should go, since Tom is in town and I'm going to spend Christmas Day with his family. It's only fair that he spend today with my family, right? We'll see.

Pregnancy Trolls

So news of my pregnancy has spread like wildfire, due in no small part to Tom calling every person he's met since high school and shouting "I'm gonna be a dad!" into the phone. I am now not-so-eagerly awaiting the unsolicited advice portion of the pregnancy. If you've ever been pregnant before, then you know what I'm talking about. They find out that I don't want to discover the baby's sex before it's born and they're shocked: "Why would you not want to know?" they ask, as though I just announced plans to drink a fifth of whiskey every day until delivery. It comes up that I don't dye my roots when I'm pregnant and exclaim, "Well I always did," as though it disproves all the warnings not to soak your head in chemicals during fetal development. They learn that I oppose circumcision for gentiles and they act disgusted: "Don't you want him to look like all the other boys?" The implication is, of course, that either A) my son would have made the semi finals of the Penis Beauty Pageant if only he'd had part of it hacked off arbitrarily at birth, or B) my unborn son has a lucrative career in porn ahead of him but due to my unconventional attitudes will now be relegated to the foreskin fetish arena, which we all should know is so much seedier than the regular porn industry, or C) some girl someday will laugh at him for having a penis the likes of which she has never seen before. This one is my favorite, as it only comes from men who are deeply afraid of having their penises laughed at anyway, whereas women know that we're too afraid of having our hips judged to ever start the insults. Also, as the boy's mother, I don't feel it's my duty to worry about how his sex life develops eighteen years down the line.

The sad fact is that if my parenting style differs in any way from someone else's, that person has a pretty good chance of taking offense to it. I don't care that you pierced your baby's ears, but I can't bear the thought of holding my screaming infant while someone pokes unnecessary holes in her head just because I think said holes are pretty. Fine, you put your kids in walkers to teach them how to walk. I just never heard about that undeveloped part of the wilderness where everyone grows up an invalid because no one gave them walkers as babies; I was under the impression that walking was one of those skills that kids kind of learned on their own without being given small ramming devices with which to knock things off shelves.

I'm too defensive, I know. But it's true. People will judge you on anything when it comes to your parenting, from the names you choose to how long you let your kids' hair grow to when and how you decide to potty-train. Everyone feels their way is the best, which makes sense because if they thought another way was better they would have chosen it instead. But some folks really seem to think that nursing for a month longer than they did is tantamount to child abuse and that it is in the best interest of the child that they list off all the reasons they weened when they did. It's enough to take away the "glow" I'm supposed to have.

The Boys Can Swim

Well, according to the (awkwardly) admittedly attractive lab tech at my doctor's office, my blood is as pregnant as my urine. So it's official. I is knocked up.

I don't know if I'm going to be writing more here or less. I may feel completely overwhelmed with a need to chronicle every minute detail of my future son's/daughter's gestation or I may simply be so overwhelmed that I don't make it to the computer to blog it all out. Either way, sometime mid August I should be posting a name and some birth stats here for my adoring public, or the few of you who read this thing.

So....

What do you think? Two defective EPTs or am I knocked up?


*It's a cell phone photo so forgive the quality.

Latke Update

How did the Jewish people make latkes in the desert! Ignore for a moment the obvious difficulties of sour cream refrigeration back then, I am having a hell of a time making latkes in modern times with modern conveniences. Sure, the box grater helps with the potatoes, but have you ever tried to grate an onion? My recipe calls for grated onion, so I grated an onion and let me tell you, if you think chopping an onion makes you cry you should try grating an onion! I'm bawling like a baby and that just makes the odds of me grating my knuckles into the food rise that much higher. Also, I have to thoroughly dry the potato and onion. I don't have a salad spinner so I am forced to ring out my food in towels. Now my towels are covered with shredded and grated potato and onion, and I'm not sure that's going to be good for my washing machine. Also, I think I lost at least 10% of my food just from it clinging to the towels. And I'm still not sure it's dry enough. But I have it pressed in the fridge, waiting to be coated and fried tonight.

Now, Tom has brought to my attention that I may be inadvertently blaspheming the Jewish religion by attempting to celebrate Hanukkah with no real idea of what it's about. But I don't want to cheapen or mock the religion. I just figure that as long as I'm going to have a Christmas hybrid holiday season devoted to a deity-free sense of love and peace and family (well, 2 out of 3 ain't bad, as peace never seems to mesh with family celebrations) then I may as well borrow symbols and foods from Judaism as from Christianity. (Hell, if I knew a Buddhist dish I'd make it too, but all I know is the prayer for the dead, which I chant under my breath at funerals.)

So, am I being insulting, or am I attempting to teach myself a little bit more about a different belief system? I don't think I'm being any worse than the people who eat Chinese take-out on Chinese New Year.

Waiting On The World To Change

The Rules:

1. Put your music player on Shuffle
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER WHAT (this is in capital letters, so it is very serious).

1. IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY?” YOU SAY?
"Found Out About You" Gin Blossoms

2. WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
"Spiderweb" No Doubt

3. WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
"I'm Losing You" Rod Stewart

4. HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
"This Christmas Day" Trans-Siberian Orchestra

5. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
"Sin" Nine Inch Nails

6. WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
"Broken Wings" Mr. Mister

7. WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
"The Undoing Of A Man" Henry Rollins spoken word

8. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?
"After All" Cher

9. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
"The Shit Is On Fire Show" Henry Rollins spoken word

10. WHAT IS 2+2?
"Fallin To Pieces" Rob Thomas

11. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
"Sweet Dreams" Marilyn Manson

12. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
"Gravity" John Mayer

13. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
"I'm Going Home" Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack

14. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
"Mother's Dream" Candlebox

15. WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
"You're So Vain" Carly Simon

16. WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
"I Don't Want To Miss A Thing" Aerosmith

17. WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
"Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" Elton John

18. WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
"Early Retirement" Henry Rollins spoken word

19. WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
"You Can't Hurry Love" Diana Ross

20. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
"What Is Eternal" Trans-Siberian Orchestra

21. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
"Ocean Man" Ween

22. WHAT SHOULD YOU POST THIS AS?
"Waiting On The World To Change" John Mayer

Diversity Is Yummy

I'm not Jewish. In fact, I live in such a pathetically homogeneous little town that practically no one here is Jewish. There is one old lawyer, and a factory owner who wears a fedora and topcoat and underpays his workers, so basically all the old Jewish stereotypes are alive and well here. I remember the year I was put into AP Reading (in 8th grade) with a girl who was half Jewish. Poor kid had to bring a Menorah in and talk about the magic oil. You could tell it was a memorized speech that her mother and the school set up every year to encourage tolerance.

I am not Christian. I wasn't raised very religious but I always knew that God knocked up Mary and they had Jesus in a barn. Other than that, I knew nothing about Christianity. In fact, I thought the manger was the barn. The manger scene was in a barn so it made sense. Since I didn't know that a manger was a trough thing for feeding animals, and since the baby was always laid down in a little wooden hay-lined basket thing, I grew up under the misguided impression that ancient Jews kept bassinets in their barns. I was angry to learn that baby animals are expected to sleep on the ground in modern times. But I digress. My point was that I am not Christian, although I grew up with Christmas. And of course, once you grow up with Christmas, you can't give it up.

We have Christmas in my house. It is an almost entirely secular celebration full of Santas and trees and piles of presents. Aside from one heirloom nativity, which Ryan has added two Santas and a Grinch to, there is no Jesus to be seen. But recently I have wondered, if I am going to perform Christian traditions for no spiritual reason, why am I not embracing other religions' traditions as well? If I'm not Christian and I do Christmas, then not being Jewish shouldn't keep me from doing Hanukkah as well. So I have added a menorah to my amazon wish list and I have decided to merge my love of carbohydrates and fat with my love of exotic religions. Tonight for supper, we will have latkes!

I really wish I could get my hands on a menorah by tonight. But in this town? There are actually people here who confuse the Star of David with the pentacle.

So I am going to make latkes tonight, which actually sound quite delicious despite the fact that they seem to be nothing more than deep fried hashbrowns. But they are the deep fried hashbrowns of God's Chosen People, so I'm sure they taste much better. And they have onion too, although I'm not sure I have an onion, or money to go to the store. This would probably disturb me if I were Jewish and working with some traditional family recipe, but I'm using a recipe off the net and I'm rationalizing my lack of onion by pondering the availability of onions during a forty year trek through the desert. Or potatoes, for that matter. You'd think oil wouldn't have been all they'd be running short of. I think I might need to study the story better. I probably shouldn't be getting the entirety of my Jewish education from Christopher Moore books and reruns of Seinfeld. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go look up Rosh Hashanah on wikipedia.



*omg, the spellchecker is trying to turn "latke" to "latex", and "Rosh Hashanah" to "rash hashish". Yes, Judaism, the religion which celebrates itchy dope and eats rubber. Even my software is WASPish.

Homophobes Beware!

It's Project Runway time! Yayyyy! For those of you who don't know, Project Runway is a contest where fifteen wannabe fashion designers compete to win a contract with some design house or another, and Heidi Klum hosts the show because let's face it, there's nothing for a thirty-plus supermodel to do except host reality shows. Also, Project Runway is the ONLY reality game show I can watch, as it is the only one that doesn't make me feel like my IQ is dropping every second it's on.

Anyway, the appeal behind PR, for those of us who aren't into fashion, is in the characters. Tim Gunn, the droll mentor advising everyone to "Make it work, people." Michael Kors, the judge / catty ladyman who's already made it in the business. And the designers! The fabulous flaming gay guys, of course, and the overly insistent that he's straight guy, the tough too-competitive black woman, the flaky girl from another planet, they're the same every year.

This year there are a few standouts but I think the one that grabs the most attention is 21 year old Christian Siriano, who looks almost exactly like Chris Kattan on SNL. Evidence:



And to add to the over-the-toppiness of this guy, he speaks in that horribly questioning way where every sentence ends on a higher note than it started on, and he wears his glasses too low on his face so he has to tip his head back to see out of them. Combine tilting your head way back, asking everything you say, and wearing your hair like no one ever taught you how to use a comb, and you just look like you rode the shortbus to the auditions. All in all, a classic PR designer. And to think, just a few short years ago we thought Austin Scarlett was campy!

I hope Christian stays for a while, and the guy who looks like French Stewart too. They make the show fun.