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Maybe it’s the fact that living with two males in a small space was starting to make me feel outnumbered. Maybe it was nostalgia. Maybe it was because she was only $6.00 and I had some time to kill at the CVS.

But however it happened, let’s all welcome my co-blogger, City Style(tm) Barbie!

OMG, ya’ll! Hi!

Listen, I just wanted to talk about some of my problems. I mean, besides having to compete with those Bratz bitches.

First, there’s my hair. I’ve got that weird pulled-back bangs thing happening, and it was put on me at the factory, so now I have permanent hair-dent.

Yuck, right? Plus I have this weird spiky haircut thing, that is all Jennifer Aniston circa 2003, and whatever…how are little girls supposed to make me a princess or whatever with this hair? You can’t even comb it.

Speaking of dated…my halter top’s ok, but these pants are fugly.

I mean, when MY tiny vinyl calfs look chunky in them, why would any real woman wear these? Ick.

And this came as a shock to emjaybee, because she’s old, and apparently, her Barbies that she played with in 1928 and were probably made out of wood or something did NOT have underwear growing out of their skin:

Maybe this is some kind of sex thing…I mean, it’s not like those old wooden Barbies had lady parts, but apparently that was still too racy for people who WORRY about DOLL GENITALS, and you know, ok guys. Whatev, I’ll wear your stupid skinderwear. But I’d probably like it not to peek out of my clothes, cause gross.

And then, there’s the worst, my SHOES. Oh my GOD ya’ll…I mean, WTF?

I mean, I have built-in high heel-shaped FEET, and they STILL won’t stay on. Even fetish pumps come with STRAPS, moron Barbie-dressers!

So yeah. She’s going to have to buy me some new clothes, and maybe cut my hair. Because it’s no fun to have a lame Barbie decorating your computer monitor. She says, send in your suggestions and she’ll make me over and take pictures.

And if nobody cares enough to make suggestions..she’ll make me over however she wants. But you know, her fashion sense is like, lesbian-circa-1992*, so I’d really APPRECIATE ya’ll helping her out and all.

K’ thanksbye!

*Not that there’s anything wrong with that!–Ed.

…I’ll just say, “Son…they took a whole lotta drugs.”

Via CartoonBrew

Even though it’s impossibly far away, I can’t help thinking about what my approach to midwifery and birth education will be. Especially about what I want to teach in childbirth classes. And to any woman who’ll listen to me, really.

I’m not crunchy granola, first of all. Or rather, I am, but not for spiritual reasons. I like organic things because pesticides are bad for you, and torturing animals for hormone-pumped meat makes me uneasy. I like clean water and air, etc. because I enjoy continuing to exist without having to wear an ozone-proof suit to go outside. I like this planet, I think it’s a nice place to call home, and more importantly, we don’t have any replacement ones lined up at the moment. So it’s just plain stupid to make the one we have unlivable.

You do not need to believe in crystals, auras, past lives, Wicca, or any other religious ideas whatsoever to understand this.

You also don’t have to believe those things to be a homebirth and natural birth advocate. I think the science is there, it is tested, and it is logical. I think taking care of the psychological state of a person about to undergo tremendous physical and psychological stress is a no-brainer, quite frankly. Hospitals are the least relaxing and reassuring places on earth, short of the middle of a shopping center, to give birth. And at least most shopping centers have fountains and plants. And a food court, for if you need a giant pretzel to keep up your strength during labor. Now that would have been handy.

We associate hospitals with crisis, with pain and sickness, because that’s what they exist to treat. Birth was only moved into hospitals for the benefit of the doctors, not for the women…in fact, postpartum deaths initially rose when women began birthing in hospitals, thanks to doctors who didn’t understand why it was a good idea to wash your hands after touching a corpse, but before examining a patient.

Anyway. It’s improved now, but hospitals are still the best places to catch some nasty drug-resistant bugs. If you’re sick, or have a labor gone wrong, obviously it’s worth the risk. But if you don’t have to go there, you shouldn’t. And that has everything to do with the research I’ve read, and nothing to do with wanting to birth in the woods to meet my inner goddess. Though certainly, if that floats your boat, great. But that is not what motivates me.

While I was in my third trimester, I was told to do things like drink raspberry leaf tea, walk by the water, picture flowers opening, etc. etc., to make labor hurry up, none of which had any effect and all of which made me feel silly. Plus I hate hot tea. And while the tea was just an unproven but harmless birth-starting legend, the other two were sheer magical thinking; no different from when my mother was told to put an open pair of scissors under her pillow to “cut the pain of labor.”

Now I respect (and as a midwife, certainly won’t gripe about) the idea that some kinds of magical thinking can help some women go into and get through labor. But for me, it added stress; because if I did the magical thinking and nothing happened…well then obviously I wasn’t doing it hard enough. I wasn’t clapping enough and now Tinkerbell was going to die. And actually, I didn’t believe in it, and found it disquieting to be told to do something I thought was crap by people who were my support team. It felt patronizing. It felt like they didn’t believe in me either and so were giving me something to keep me from getting hysterical.

I think there are a lot of women out there like I was, facing birth with uncertainty. Not wanting the Hospital Special, but not really able to muster up the requisite enthusiasm for birth altars and mystic placenta-rituals. Childbirth is very powerful, but also very mundane. There is grunting, sweat, and poop (yours and the baby’s) involved, after all. It is not dignified, and not always particularly spiritual. And even if it is spiritual, the ready-made spirituality you get with a stereotypical crunchy-granola birth sometimes gets in the way of whatever real feelings the mother is having. Or even just her feeling of “screw the placenta, my ass hurts!”

As a midwife, I’d like to be able to honor all my client’s feelings without trying to fit them into any kind of a mold. If they’re spiritual, then I want them to tell me how that affects what they need from me, but not for me to tell them what anything means or should mean. If they’re not, then we’ll just concentrate on the basics; helping create an atmosphere that makes it possible for them to put their whole body and mind into birthing. What I call the Gospel of I’m Here for You.

Over at ParentDish (which used to be Blogging Baby) I saw a mention of this book, and how much the writer’s husband liked it for their son.

Here’s the book’s description from Amazon:

If ever there was a book to make you switch off your television set, “The Dangerous Book for Boys” is it. How many other books will help you thrash someone at conkers, race your own go-cart, and identify the best quotations from Shakespeare? “The Dangerous Book for Boys” gives you facts and figures at your fingertips - swot up on the solar system, learn about famous battles and read inspiring stories of incredible courage and bravery. Teach your old dog new tricks. Make a pinhole camera. Understand the laws of cricket. There’s a whole world out there: …Chapters in “The Dangerous Book for Boys” include: The Seven Ancient Wonders of the World…Dinosaurs…Girls…