The Business of Being Nauseated

I'm not exactly sure what I was thinking.

Due to rain and other cancellations, my busy day yesterday turned into a lot of me scanning my apartment for things to do. My eyes landed on Netflix streaming, as they do. I decided it was finally time to watch one of my instant documentaries I put on my list with the best of intentions. You know the kind. "Oh, it sounds so interesting! It's a tribute by the director to his murdered childhood friend!" But then a year later you still haven't watched it and you realize...when am I EVER going to be in the mood to watch that??

So it goes with this documentary I watched last night. It was produced by Ricki Lake. I mean, I don't think I need to add anything else, but I'll go on just in case that somehow did not convince you that this was a great idea. It was called "The Business of Being Born". I thought it was going to be about how insanely expensive baby stuff is and how they're trying to convince us to buy all this stuff but really all we need is our own breasticles and the baby will be fine.

So yes, I knew there would be babies involved. And while I am not about to have a child, I found the idea interesting. I have a niece, I think of these things. Very Fahrenheit 911 but with babies and consumerism.

Well let me tell you. This was not what the movie was about AT ALL. It was, in fact, about how women should not have babies in hospitals and we have it all wrong, and the women of northern Europe (the place where people always doing everything RIGHT, apparently) are using midwives and having babies the right way and they are not dying like apparently women in the US are.



THINGS I LEARNED FROM THIS DOCUMENTARY:

1. Laying on your back with your knees to your ears is a terrible way to have a baby. It makes your pelvis smaller and makes it hurt way more. (Ich...bleck)

2. The epidural takes away pain but slows down the process so they add a different drug to speed it up, which brings the pain higher so they add more epidural which slows it down and they add the other drug and eventually your baby is like "EFF THIS NOISE" and gets very upset and you end up having to get a cesarean.

3. Having a baby is an INSANE process and whoever thought it up needs to have their BRAIN CHECKED.

I'm not really that squeamish about babies being born. Which is weird because I can't even watch fake people being fake cut open on Grey's Anatomy. But pull that baby out all white and covered in goo with a slimy chord attached to his stomach and I sit there, unblinking into the night.

But MY GOD, there were at least 6 babies born in this movie to show the process of at-home births and how "beautiful" it is and what not and like....CHRIST. One woman did it while squatting on the floor. ON THE FLOOR.

In the end, they've got me thinking about it. The most I'd ever thought about myself possibly delivering a baby was "let's avoid that whole situation as much as possible." But they bring up some very good arguments and now I've turned into another crunchy hippie, ready to climb into the bathtub and focus on my breathing. When the time comes, of course.

For anyone who is not squeamish about babies and is curious about what the deal is with midwives OR wants to see a lot of nekkid pregnant ladiez, check it out. But if you want an exposé on formula like I did and the idea of a newnewnewborn makes your insides feel like they're on your outsides...maybe sit this one out.

Odd Jobs

Well. Someone from my high school posted the sonogram for their second child on Facebook. And because I am still not in the mood for booze (hurrr) after this weekend (hurrr) and thinking about alcohol makes me dry heave (hurrrr) but I still need to drown my sorrows, I've found the next best thing: licking the Hint of Lime off Tostidos tortilla chips. It's helping.

Here's the thing: I'm not ready for a second child. I am not ready for a first child. Like, AT ALL. In fact, lately I've been having some near mental-breakdown issues where I completely doubt everything about the life I'm living. Well, really it's more about my job.

Basically what happens in my brain is this:

Bah, this one part of my job is the worst.
Well this sucks, I don't even like doing this.
Wait, am I going to have to do what I don't like forever?
Wait, am I going to get laid off if I don't do a good job at this thing I don't like?
Wait, why am I doing a job that I'm going to get laid off from when I'm 40 and then can't find something because I've become totally obsolete and I'll be forced to fold socks at Walmart for the rest of my life?!?!?!?!?

And that's when, as Jan Levenson says, I collapse in on myself like a dying star.

Basically this:


These are the times that I start considering my options. And, as I see it, I have four potential other jobs that I would be willing to seriously consider.


1. Puppeteer


Ya'll know my blood runs Muppet. But honestly, I could see myself making a job out of entertaining on stage with a puppet, Muppet-brand or otherwise. There's something in me that just HAS to talk to inanimate objects (cabinet doors, boxes of dry pasta, running water...) and give voiceless things voices. Every pet and baby I've come in contact with in the past 10 years has had a voice. Each with their own personality and timbre. Taxi finished every sentence with "you know, and stuff." Charlie craved attention. Wally has a 1930's gangster voice. Regina is the first one to continuously threaten to kill me. I really think I could make a puppet show based on my pets. And no, I have never written a more depressing sentence.

I'm so serious about this one, I started legitimately looking into Puppetry schools. There's one in Connecticut. Puppet fantasies AND Gilmore Girl fantasies all wrapped into one? Be still my little beating heart.

2. Kindergarten Teacher


And I know this goes against what I just said about not being ready for kids, but Kindergarten teaching is different than owning and operating your own mini human. I'm pretty sure everyone I say this to has laughed in my face, little specks of spittle flying every which way. But I'm serious. I am really good with 5 year olds. BUT REALLY good. I used to nanny two boys and I MAY have learned the name, number, color, size, and wheel quality of all the Thomas the Tank Engine characters.

The most attractive part of being a Kindergarten teacher, though, is that I'm pretty sure it's the exact opposite to being in Advertising. Instead of constantly trying to figure out how to weasel my products into the hearts and minds of people who could give a damn, I would be teaching children how to become better people. In fact, I wouldn't have to spend another single second pondering an ad. I could even try to IGNORE THEM. Also, I could wear vests with puffy paint on them. And who doesn't love the idea of that?


3. Junior High English Teacher


Honestly, I think I may be a glutton for punishment. But I really like the idea of this one. GONE are the days of kids who can't tell the difference between your and you're FOR I SHALL ATTACK THEM WITH THE NORTH if they ever forgot it.

Also, I remember my high school English classes as being one long string of teachers wailing "WHERE IS THE 'SO WHAT'?!" and we would wail back "WE DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL YOU MEAN!" Do you guys remember that? Did ANYONE get it back then? I know Adrienne and I didn't, that's for damn sure. And it wasn't until I started reading books for pleasure again that I actually figured it out, all on my own. And I want to try and pass on that knowledge to the childrenz, before they even hit high school. Because yeah. I'm ambitious.

4. TV comedy writer.



This is my newest idea. It's an interesting one to me right now. It involves me getting to be raunchier and more authentic than I can be in Advertising, which I like. And I get to write long copy versus headlines, which I clearly like. And I could be funny. And successful. And write myself into a show with Future Husband John Krasinski, Amy Poehler and (what the hell) Aunt Meryl and Tom Hanks.


For now I'm sticking with Advertising. I mean, I DID almost sell an ad with a flying squirrel in it the other day, so the job does have its high points.

Wicker Park Is For Babies.

Babies, guys. Babies.

No. I am not pregnant. JEEZ! FRICKEN BREATHE.

This weekend the sun was shining, the douchebags were in shorts, and people were frollicking outside. It was awesome. And I totally forgot...I want a baby. Not my own baby. Not a baby I need to take care of. Not one that requires that I be pregnant and get no sleep and breastfeed and all that nonsense.

I just want a quiet 1-year-old to walk around with. Possibly the baby can wear a sun hat. Maybe baby glasses. See, now that it's nice out, the babies are out in full force. Wicker Park is chock-full of first-time parents with adorable, alternative babies.

OH MY GOD. TIME OUT! I FORGOT TO TELL YOU ABOUT THE BEST BABY OUTFIT I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE SO MUCH SO THAT IT REQUIRES ALL CAPS AND INCORRECT PUNCTUATION!!>!>!K"?!1.

It was an adorable young couple with a little Asian baby on the dad's shoulders wearing the outfit from this book.

She quite literally looked like this doll:

Including the foot-tall red peak standing straight toward the sky. I have never been so close to stealing a baby. And I have come seriously close before.

Anyway, in the winter I totally forgot how many babies and dogs there are in the world. But this weekend was a giant reminder that there are quite a few. And I want them all. If it weren't an issue of cruelty and cleanliness, I would become a baby and dog hoarder. I can see myself on A&E, trying to wade through the multitude I have built up. ("Emily, have you even SEEN this dachshund in the past year? Do you think you can let it go? Come on, Emily. Let's put down the dachshund." "But, but...I might NEED it...")

Joe is aware of my latent hoarding tendencies. It hasn't scared him away yet. I've done some pretty weird things around him, so screaming "REEEEER!" every time I see a dog smaller than my fist is probably the least of his concerns. And come on. Who DOESN'T make faces at smiling babies in strollers? It's human nature. There was a baby on the bus the other day who thought I was a comedic GENIUS. And I really was, I'm not going to lie. I mean, I'd look away--and then back. I should be some kind of baby stand up comic.

For now, my plan is to get my own cat. It will be my first pet since the time I sold my turtle to pay for a doll. We'll see if I can survive owning an animal whose primary life goal is to lay in the sun and lick his own thigh. Then I'll think about other possibilities.