When I was pregnant, I experienced the same thing that every other pregnant woman in the world experiences: Unsolicited Advice. There is something about the rounded belly that makes complete strangers feel it is okay to tell you exactly what you are doing wrong, or what you need to do to prevent birth defects, or horror birthing stories (which really should be made ILLEGAL to tell a pregnant woman!), or horror stories about how they never slept after the baby was born, etc etc.
I survived the unsolicited advice, and promised myself that I would NEVER give another pregnant lady advice that she hasn't asked for. I, unfortunately, have broken this promise -- so sorry! -- but with that broken promise came a fierce determination to not break it again.
Right now, though, I have a lot of pregnant friends. A LOT of pregnant friends (call-out to all of you, you Hot Mamas!). They're all due within a two month window.
And I'm having a really hard time keeping my mouth shut. A REALLY hard time. So, in order to purge this need to give out advice, I'm going to do it all now. Because, it isn't Unsolicited Advice if it is just another blog post, right? It's not like I'm speaking directly to one specific friend or stranger...
1. Prenatal yoga is empowering, rocks, and is oh-so amazing for you! I started it when I was 18-20 weeks along, and wished I started it sooner. It was the first time I had ever done yoga, and I totally sucked. But it was okay.
Women who were so much further along than I were just amazing. It was so empowering to see these woman with huge bellies gracefully moving through positions, balancing so easily, and having so much strength. It really showed me that pregnancy is not an illness.
Pre-natal yoga also teaches about trusting your own body, and listening to your intuition. It helped alleviate a lot of the fear of labor (fear causes adrenaline, which causes tension and the fight-or-flight response, which makes contractions feel worse!) It helped develop muscles that made labor easier. It showed me how to relax during contractions. Each yoga class felt so good, too. It was a wonderful workout that somehow left me feeling like I just had a massage.
I heart my teacher, Sarah Longacre, and her Blooma studio! (www.blooma.com) I still take classes at this wonderful studio (though no longer with Sarah, as she just teaches the pre-natal classes).
Child's Pose & Cat Pose did wonderful things for my back. Still do. I couldn't find good pictures on the internet, but if you would like me to show you these simple stretches, I am so happy to do so (then it's not UNsolicited advice!)
2. Treat yourself to a massage, even if you're not a massage person. Wow. Same thing with baths.
3. Hanes makes fabulous camis to wear under things. I bought myself white, nude, and black ones, in a size a couple of sizes larger than I would typically wear. Because, really, just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you want to display your cleavage. And every maternity shirt has a low neckline!
4. Paint your toes while you can still see them. If you're worried about the fumes, do it outdoors, or buy some of the special Nailpolish for Pregnant Ladies.
5. When in labor, put off going to the hospital as long as you can. You'll be more comfortable, more relaxed, and you'll be able to hang onto your dignity longer. They also won't let you eat or drink at the hospital, and you need sustenance! GU Energy Gels and Clif or Luna Gel Blocks are great at giving you energy when you don't feel like eating.
6. Bring your own clothes to the hospital to wear while "lounging" about. I bought a special outfit just for that purpose. They tell you that they have "nursing nightgowns". They don't tell you how much they suck, and how embarrassed you are to have other people see you in them.
7. Birth plans are often forgotten in the spur of the moment, but are still a good idea. They make the idea of "birth" more real.
8. Protein, protein, protein! Good excuse to buy Luna bars :)
9. Go for dates with your partner as much as you can. Things do change once the baby is born, and this is a special time you'll cherish later on.
10. Ina Mae Gaskin's "Ina May's Guide to Childbirth". Graphic. Shocking. But really eye-opening. Orgasmic birth does exist...
And there you have it. I could have continued on past these 10 points, but that may have labeled me as one of those Psycho Advice-Giving Ladies, and I would like to pretend that I'm not actually giving out advice here.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Making Puddles...
The Nature Valley Grand Prix bike race was in town this week, and we headed into downtown St. Paul to check out the criterium. Finding parking was a bit of a problem, as all of our usual parking spots were along the criterium course, but we were successful. There is a beautiful park in the new apartment/condo development in the northern part of downtown. We had a hard time pulling Anson away from the water fountains, but I think, had he the language skills, he would have told us "Thank you!" because the criterium was even more exciting than water squirting into a pool.
After watching the exciting women's race (and realizing our modest little NAUCC criterium is going to be NOTHING like the real thing, oh well), we headed off to do a little riding of our own.
The excessive amount of junk food Mama has been eating lately made this ride necessary, even though it was starting to get past Anson's bedtime. I wanted to try out a possible 10k route for NAUCC, but we weren't sure how long the Doo would make it in the Burley trailer. So, I was dropped off with my Coker at the start of the route, and then the boys drove off to the end where they started riding towards me.
Thanks to some shoes with some thicker soles, my new Coker finally isn't too tall for me, and I was able to ride with some speed. I made it nearly 5 miles before I met my boys on the trail. Just prior to that, I had some issues with a seriously stinky river (thankfully no body bags this time!), and have renewed my promise to NEVER Coker past a group of apartment buildings on a nice summer's evening.
Anson was pretty excited to see his Mama appear on the trail, as he had been quite upset about dropping her off in the middle of Shepard Road. It didn't take too long before he was asking, "Out. Out. Out." We ignored him as best as we could, as it was past his bedtime and the car was less than a mile away.
I arrived at the car nearly exactly 6.2 miles after the start, making this a good possible route for the 10k race.
Anson was not impressed with our discussion of the advantages/disadvantages of this route, and seriously wanted OUT of his Burley. As J started loading our cycles onto the car rack, I started the process of unclipping Anson from the Burley.
And noticed a puddle. Where no puddles should be.
After finally lifting Anson from the Burley, my suspicisions were confirmed. For the last mile, the poor little Doo had been sitting in a puddle of his own making. We all know how uncomfortable wet denim can be; no wonder he wanted "out"!
Of course, since we were going for a short trip on our cycles, we did not bring along any of the many bags containing a spare diaper. And, he was too wet to continue wearing his clothes in the car. So, we stripped him of his pants, said a little thanks that he was wearing a regular shirt (and not a onsie), and wrapped him in a blanket.
Anson was a little distressed about losing his bottoms in a public park, but when we talked about how he got to be a Naked Boy, he was quite happy! The entire way home, we were treated to songs about being naked ("Nakee nakee nakee BOY!") and there was also a dramatic 'Ode to the Toes' ("Oh piggies, piggies, piggies, oh!).
Moral to this story: Always carry a spare diaper in the car. You never know when you might need it. And, if you find yourself suddenly naked, you should sing about it!
After watching the exciting women's race (and realizing our modest little NAUCC criterium is going to be NOTHING like the real thing, oh well), we headed off to do a little riding of our own.
The excessive amount of junk food Mama has been eating lately made this ride necessary, even though it was starting to get past Anson's bedtime. I wanted to try out a possible 10k route for NAUCC, but we weren't sure how long the Doo would make it in the Burley trailer. So, I was dropped off with my Coker at the start of the route, and then the boys drove off to the end where they started riding towards me.
Thanks to some shoes with some thicker soles, my new Coker finally isn't too tall for me, and I was able to ride with some speed. I made it nearly 5 miles before I met my boys on the trail. Just prior to that, I had some issues with a seriously stinky river (thankfully no body bags this time!), and have renewed my promise to NEVER Coker past a group of apartment buildings on a nice summer's evening.
Anson was pretty excited to see his Mama appear on the trail, as he had been quite upset about dropping her off in the middle of Shepard Road. It didn't take too long before he was asking, "Out. Out. Out." We ignored him as best as we could, as it was past his bedtime and the car was less than a mile away.
I arrived at the car nearly exactly 6.2 miles after the start, making this a good possible route for the 10k race.
Anson was not impressed with our discussion of the advantages/disadvantages of this route, and seriously wanted OUT of his Burley. As J started loading our cycles onto the car rack, I started the process of unclipping Anson from the Burley.
And noticed a puddle. Where no puddles should be.
After finally lifting Anson from the Burley, my suspicisions were confirmed. For the last mile, the poor little Doo had been sitting in a puddle of his own making. We all know how uncomfortable wet denim can be; no wonder he wanted "out"!
Of course, since we were going for a short trip on our cycles, we did not bring along any of the many bags containing a spare diaper. And, he was too wet to continue wearing his clothes in the car. So, we stripped him of his pants, said a little thanks that he was wearing a regular shirt (and not a onsie), and wrapped him in a blanket.
Anson was a little distressed about losing his bottoms in a public park, but when we talked about how he got to be a Naked Boy, he was quite happy! The entire way home, we were treated to songs about being naked ("Nakee nakee nakee BOY!") and there was also a dramatic 'Ode to the Toes' ("Oh piggies, piggies, piggies, oh!).
Moral to this story: Always carry a spare diaper in the car. You never know when you might need it. And, if you find yourself suddenly naked, you should sing about it!
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Friday, June 5, 2009
Hell On Earth
Note: This Blog Post deviates from the typical happy, light posts of The MamaDoo. Anson is not in this post, so if that is all you're reading for, you might as well stop here. This topic is serious, painful, and ugly. It is not one that makes for good conversation. But I feel the need to give evidence to the plight of these women.
There is a preacher in Tulsa who believes that when people die and go to hell, they are reincarnated back into certain horrible places on Earth, Africa being one of them.
The Tulsa preacher has just a theory, but you can't argue that for millions of people in Africa, life is hellish. Especially for women. What is a part of daily existance for so many women all over the world only exists in our nightmares.
We are not justified in complaining that life is not fair.
We are the product of hard-fought struggles to provide us equal rights, rights that we now take for granted. Rights that the majority of women in the world do not have. Rights that the majority of women in the world don't even dream exist.
Painful reminders of how life is for far too many women in Africa:
~Tribal healers in Zimbabwe are spreading the myth that the only way to cure HIV is to rape a virgin. The younger the girl is, the more guarantee she is indeed a virgin. Not only are these girls victims of rape at a horrendously young age, but they become infected with HIV themselves.
http://www.cnn.com/2009/LIVING/06/04/cnnheroes.betty.makoni/index.html
~An estimated 1/3 of women in the Darfurian refugee camps in Chad are rape victims. The number is estimated, as the women hide their rapes for fear of the reprocussions. Those unfortunate enough to become pregnant, unable to hide the evidence of the rape, are ostracized from their families. They are divorced, beaten severely by their family members, and stripped of all possessions, including their clothing. They are completely alone.
http://www.newser.com/article/d98h6ob00/doctors-group-finds-rape-common-against-darfur-women-urges-international-warrants.html
~Bi-sexual and homosexal women in South Africa live in fear that their "secret" will be revealed. Those whose sexuality is revealed are at great risk, as it is becoming more common for these women to be "fixed" through gang rape. If they survive.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/mar/12/eudy-simelane-corrective-rape-south-africa
I don't have an answer; no one does. No one will ever know if the Tulsa preacher is right, and these women are indeed reincarnated bad souls. It is easier to accept their fate if we believe that they are indeed deserving of it. But that is a dangerous, dangerous line of thought.
The first thing we can do is to become aware. We can't ameloriate what we do not see. What would the second thing be?
There is a preacher in Tulsa who believes that when people die and go to hell, they are reincarnated back into certain horrible places on Earth, Africa being one of them.
The Tulsa preacher has just a theory, but you can't argue that for millions of people in Africa, life is hellish. Especially for women. What is a part of daily existance for so many women all over the world only exists in our nightmares.
We are not justified in complaining that life is not fair.
We are the product of hard-fought struggles to provide us equal rights, rights that we now take for granted. Rights that the majority of women in the world do not have. Rights that the majority of women in the world don't even dream exist.
Painful reminders of how life is for far too many women in Africa:
~Tribal healers in Zimbabwe are spreading the myth that the only way to cure HIV is to rape a virgin. The younger the girl is, the more guarantee she is indeed a virgin. Not only are these girls victims of rape at a horrendously young age, but they become infected with HIV themselves.
http://www.cnn.com/2009/LIVING/06/04/cnnheroes.betty.makoni/index.html
~An estimated 1/3 of women in the Darfurian refugee camps in Chad are rape victims. The number is estimated, as the women hide their rapes for fear of the reprocussions. Those unfortunate enough to become pregnant, unable to hide the evidence of the rape, are ostracized from their families. They are divorced, beaten severely by their family members, and stripped of all possessions, including their clothing. They are completely alone.
http://www.newser.com/article/d98h6ob00/doctors-group-finds-rape-common-against-darfur-women-urges-international-warrants.html
~Bi-sexual and homosexal women in South Africa live in fear that their "secret" will be revealed. Those whose sexuality is revealed are at great risk, as it is becoming more common for these women to be "fixed" through gang rape. If they survive.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/mar/12/eudy-simelane-corrective-rape-south-africa
I don't have an answer; no one does. No one will ever know if the Tulsa preacher is right, and these women are indeed reincarnated bad souls. It is easier to accept their fate if we believe that they are indeed deserving of it. But that is a dangerous, dangerous line of thought.
The first thing we can do is to become aware. We can't ameloriate what we do not see. What would the second thing be?
Thursday, June 4, 2009
A Recent Compromise with Anson
Scene: Kitchen Table
Time of Day: Breakfast
Mama: Here's your juice, Anson!
Anson: A-pple juice!
Mama: No, it's orange juice.
Anson: A-pple juice! A-pple juice!
Mama: O-range juice.
Anson: [getting mad] A-PPLE JUICE!
Mama: [sigh] No, love, it's orange juice. From oranges.
Anson: A-PPLE JUICE!!!!!
Mama: Yellow juice?
Anson: Yel-low juice!
Mama: Yellow juice.
Anson: [Grins] Yel-low juice!
Time of Day: Breakfast
Mama: Here's your juice, Anson!
Anson: A-pple juice!
Mama: No, it's orange juice.
Anson: A-pple juice! A-pple juice!
Mama: O-range juice.
Anson: [getting mad] A-PPLE JUICE!
Mama: [sigh] No, love, it's orange juice. From oranges.
Anson: A-PPLE JUICE!!!!!
Mama: Yellow juice?
Anson: Yel-low juice!
Mama: Yellow juice.
Anson: [Grins] Yel-low juice!
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Bikes... those things are DANGEROUS!
This past weekend, I went mountain biking for the first time of the season. I have a great mountain bike, but I just don't find myself off road very often.
J took me to Battle Creek park, as it had been quite awhile since he had been there on two wheels. I've never been on these trails, on one wheel or two. While I have biked Lebanon Hills, I was already quite familiar with that course before hitting it with that pesky second wheel. I didn't have that going for me at Battle Creek. There were several times when I very seriously thought I would very seriously injure myself. At times, I saw my future flash before my eyes, a future complete with my arm in a sling, gashes across my face, and twigs in my hair.
It all comes down to the fact that those two-wheeled things are dangerous! And really scary!
Bikes go FAST! I'm talking so-fast-the-wind-tears-your-eyes-preventing-you-from-seeing-that-tree-you-just-hit-head-on fast.
Yeah, they have brakes, but those things can only do so much before you get catapoulted over the handlebars.
You not only have to control a wheel in front of you, but a wheel behind you, too. And, these two wheels often want to go two different places.
And, that wheel behind you will fishtail! Which, I'm told, is much better than the wheel in front of you fishtailing.
When you fall, you don't land on your feet. Your feet are too busy being tangled with the rest of the bike.
You can't bail. See above comment about feet tangling with the bike.
Walking a bike down a hill too steep to ride is just as dangerous as actually riding it. At least if you rode down the steep hill, you wouldn't see the tree up ahead that you know you're going to hit. There really is something nice about not knowing you're on an inevitable course towards a painful injury... in this case, ignorance really is bliss!
I started the ride full of confidence. If I can MUni*, how hard can mountain biking be? I ended the ride with my knees knocking together, teeth chattering, and fingernails bitten to the quick. Yes, I exaggerate, but not much.
The next time I find myself doing some off-road cycling, I'm choosing my MUni. When I inevitably encounter a mountain biker who questions my sanity, I'm going to laugh right in their face and call THEM crazy!
*For those in need of a most basic definition, refer to wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mountain_unicycle
J took me to Battle Creek park, as it had been quite awhile since he had been there on two wheels. I've never been on these trails, on one wheel or two. While I have biked Lebanon Hills, I was already quite familiar with that course before hitting it with that pesky second wheel. I didn't have that going for me at Battle Creek. There were several times when I very seriously thought I would very seriously injure myself. At times, I saw my future flash before my eyes, a future complete with my arm in a sling, gashes across my face, and twigs in my hair.
It all comes down to the fact that those two-wheeled things are dangerous! And really scary!
Bikes go FAST! I'm talking so-fast-the-wind-tears-your-eyes-preventing-you-from-seeing-that-tree-you-just-hit-head-on fast.
Yeah, they have brakes, but those things can only do so much before you get catapoulted over the handlebars.
You not only have to control a wheel in front of you, but a wheel behind you, too. And, these two wheels often want to go two different places.
And, that wheel behind you will fishtail! Which, I'm told, is much better than the wheel in front of you fishtailing.
When you fall, you don't land on your feet. Your feet are too busy being tangled with the rest of the bike.
You can't bail. See above comment about feet tangling with the bike.
Walking a bike down a hill too steep to ride is just as dangerous as actually riding it. At least if you rode down the steep hill, you wouldn't see the tree up ahead that you know you're going to hit. There really is something nice about not knowing you're on an inevitable course towards a painful injury... in this case, ignorance really is bliss!
I started the ride full of confidence. If I can MUni*, how hard can mountain biking be? I ended the ride with my knees knocking together, teeth chattering, and fingernails bitten to the quick. Yes, I exaggerate, but not much.
The next time I find myself doing some off-road cycling, I'm choosing my MUni. When I inevitably encounter a mountain biker who questions my sanity, I'm going to laugh right in their face and call THEM crazy!
*For those in need of a most basic definition, refer to wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mountain_unicycle
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
The Grass is Always Greener...
... follow-up to yesterday's post...
Thanks to an already-planned vacation day, the lucky Doo had both Mama & Daddy with him all day yesterday (Tuesday). J ended the day with a MUni ride at Battlecreek Park, which meant he left at 5:30 for a few hours.
I am not exaggerating to say that Da-Doo cried for hours, wanting his Daddy!
This was the first time he has ever played favorites. It broke my heart.
He refused to go to sleep, elevating his already-high level of crabbiness. There was nothing I could do to make him happy, and so carried him around, bouncing him like a tiny baby for what seemed like hours. I don't know how Mamas of chunky babies can do it!
By the time 9:00 rolled around, the two of us were both at our wit's ends. We saw Daddy's car roll up to the curb, and there were two huge smiles to greet him as he walked in the door. Da-Doo refused to walk to Daddy (see above note about carrying him for hours), so I carried him over and passed him off, so eager to finally eat dinner.
Then... ready for the very predictible punch-line??? ...
Da-Doo cried and cried and CRIED for Mama. He refused to go to bed, because Mama wasn't holding him. Sigh.
'The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence', or, in Da-Doo's world, 'the favored parent is the one not holding you'.
Thanks to an already-planned vacation day, the lucky Doo had both Mama & Daddy with him all day yesterday (Tuesday). J ended the day with a MUni ride at Battlecreek Park, which meant he left at 5:30 for a few hours.
I am not exaggerating to say that Da-Doo cried for hours, wanting his Daddy!
This was the first time he has ever played favorites. It broke my heart.
He refused to go to sleep, elevating his already-high level of crabbiness. There was nothing I could do to make him happy, and so carried him around, bouncing him like a tiny baby for what seemed like hours. I don't know how Mamas of chunky babies can do it!
By the time 9:00 rolled around, the two of us were both at our wit's ends. We saw Daddy's car roll up to the curb, and there were two huge smiles to greet him as he walked in the door. Da-Doo refused to walk to Daddy (see above note about carrying him for hours), so I carried him over and passed him off, so eager to finally eat dinner.
Then... ready for the very predictible punch-line??? ...
Da-Doo cried and cried and CRIED for Mama. He refused to go to bed, because Mama wasn't holding him. Sigh.
'The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence', or, in Da-Doo's world, 'the favored parent is the one not holding you'.
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