Blessed Motherhood, Bitter Fruit

Last year, some anonymous person cruelly sent me a gift subscription to perhaps one of the most trashy magazines in circulation. Priding myself in not being a huge consumer of pop culture, I now, weekly, have to fight the demon known as US magazine. And, sometimes, I am weak. For example, this week I learned that Gisele Bündchen not only didn't have to wear maternity clothes during pregnancy, she also didn't have any pain in childbirth. I think the exact quote is, "It didn't hurt a bit. Not in the slightest." What kind of cruel joke is this?

After two months as an L&D nurse, I can safely report that this representation is one for the books: as in, a non-reality... and just one more reason why the confusion of pop culture and feminism makes me squirm. 99.9% of woman have been officially alienated. Thanks, ladies.

p.s. I totally forgot about orgasmic birth. Though, a couple of weeks back, a patient's husband did mention it to me when she was in transition. That was, perhaps, the worst decision of that man's young life.

Service with a Smile

This week a patient came in, via ambulance, to deliver at our hospital. She was 1cm dilated, (read: not much) huffing and puffing and crying out with every contraction. I met her, along with her Granny, in triage. As we prepared to walk to her room she, naked from the waist down, wrapped herself in a blanket, grabbed her enormous silver purse and said, "Let's get outta here."
Her granny looked a her and remarked, "You better not lose that blanket or you'll be showin' off the goods!"
She replied, "Well, I ain't worried about the goods! I'm worried about my eyeshadow. I ain't goin' nowhere without my eyeshadow. Not even to have a baby!" She turned to me, "I don't wear no make-up... 'cept eyeshadow." Which was true. She had on tons of dark grey and silver eyeshadow.
I just nodded and nodded as this conversation proceeded until we reached her room, at which point she turned to me again and said, "Okay, now I want a hamburger and french fries. I want it medium with pickles and no onions. And a glass of grape juice. And mustard."
Somewhat stunned, I chuckled, turned around, and walked slowly from the room. I was off for some grape juice - thinking that maybe childbirth makes women delusional (she seemed to be mistaking the hospital for McDonalds).... or just really, really hungry.

The Game of Life

At The Kid's football play-offs (that's flag football) this past weekend, talking with some of the other parents, one father had a lot of big-life-questions that he was trying to work through. He remarked, "I wish I could visit the homes of other parents... what do they do with the artwork? Do they keep it all or just the three-dimensional pieces made of sand?"

He went on: "Remember, the box top from the game Life? Everyone was having such fun. Do you remember playing that game?"

"Yeah," I said, "I remember that you could sell your children when you neared the end of the road."

The man just stopped and stared at me, blankly.

I was momentarily confused...didn't everyone try to accumulate children when playing Life so they could sell them at the end?? Apparently this was a goal only to those of us of a certain social strata... because I looked over and another woman about my age and, um, caliber, was bent over laughing her ass off in recognition.

BTW... I think this child selling arena was actually the space on the board entitled "College" wherein, now that I read the rules, one is supposed to pay $40k (this can't be the 1977 version) or some such sum. My brother, being the good, red blooded male that he is, convinced me, perhaps rightly, that he should be reimbursed for his progeny. That boy was way ahead of his time.

(And the answer to the question in the back of your mind is: Yes. He has 4 children... so far.)

Doppelgänger

The celebrity doppelganger is sweeping the net. Well, facebook anyway, and I closed that account. But my sister and I have been having a ball with this on our own. Here's mine.



I know, this blog is anonymous. But, you may notice the remarkable resemblance between Liz, above, and Circus Nurse, stage right. Coincidence?