When I was pregnant, everyone warned me not to judge myself against other women either positively or negatively. They told me not to compare myself to the Super Moms, the Momzillas or even the Deadbeat Moms. People warned me that once I was a mother there would be some things I would do effortlessly, and others I would fail dismally at.
Largely, I ignored their advice and trusted in my own self-worth and confidence. I was a little older than most of my mom friends and figured that with those extra years came extra wisdom. I instinctually understood that hanging out on online baby forums leads to intense paranoia about teething, and battling it out with anonymous strangers is stupid. I never thought I would succumb to the motherhood comparison game. But in the end, I was wrong. I did judge myself harshly. But it wasn’t against other moms. It was against my own husband. Keep reading »
I was commenting on how packaged pregnancy tests resemble fruit roll ups when my mother told me scientists once injected bunnies with a woman’s urine to determine whether or not she was pregnant.
“A rabbit?” I was a little stunned by the idea of poor, floppy-eared, innocent rabbits getting shot up with pee. “Oh yeah!” My mother said nodding. “People used to say, well, the rabbit died. And everyone would know she was pregnant.”
An episode of “M*A*S*H” even made reference to the practice when Hot Lips thought she might be pregnant and the only available test was via Radar’s unsuspecting pet rabbit Fluffy.
This method seemed so bizarre to me, that I was compelled to learn more about the history of pregnancy tests. Click on to see what kind of crazy stuff I discovered.
My husband and I weren’t making a political statement, revolutionizing the stay-at-home parenting dynamic or sticking it to corporate America when we deliberately choose to both be work-at-home, stay-at-home parents. While there are lots of acronyms for one parent doing this—WAHM, SAHM, WAHD and beyond—I have yet to see one that fits our family. Perhaps DIWAHSAHPWOB (Double-Income-Work-At Home-Stay-At-Home-Parents-With-One-Baby).
Regardless of what you want to call us, we don’t really fit into any of the categories Elizabeth Wurtzel’s now infamous piece in The Atlantic mentions. Though I do sometimes shrug off work to go do errands (that don’t involve yoga or pedicures). Because to me, it’s a necessity to do errands during non-mobbed Trader Joe’s hours so my husband and I can de-career our marriage for a few hours and do adult things. Like have a beer before I try to finish freelance assignments I’ve barely scratched because I spent all day wrangling a baby girl with a stuffy nose. Keep reading »