Motherhood Uncensored

I Would Never Have Known That You Were Oriental

I reluctantly returned to my misinformed midwife for my 24 week prenatal visit. I'm still extremely annoyed with her, but my attempts to find another hospital-delivering midwife that will take my current health insurance without a referral and a whole slew of inconveniences has been nearly impossible.

And, I figured that at least for the next few weeks that I have the military health insurance, I can stick it out, or better, pee in her cup, use her doppler, and go on my merry way.

But merry was being optimistic.

Apparently even she was surprised that I came back, having "crossed my name off her list" as she informed me. It's one thing to write someone off when they've been a dick to you, but another when it's a patient that you just gave terribly incorrect information to and never followed up to offer an apology.

Fine. She's a busy midwife who doesn't have time to call. But instead of saying "I know you were really annoyed and if I were you I wouldn't have come back," you might want to say something else. Anything else!

How is that supposed to instill confidence in your skill as a health professional?

So, then I informed her that a reader had emailed to tell me that one in three Asian women have an ecogenic cardio marker show up on their ultrasounds, thinking that it was an interesting factoid that she would want to take note of and possibly research for future situations.

Instead, she replied "See! I would never have known that you were Oriental!" along with some other ridiculous and totally unnecessary stories about her Oriental nurses from Guam and does that really make them Oriental and it's hard to know what characterizes ORIENTALS.

Ack.

Apparently, she hasn't yet entered the year 2008 (or 1999, or even 1992, or hell 1987), because the use of the word "Oriental" to describe anything but rugs and food is like using the words "mentally retarded" or "handicapped."

They might have been "acceptable" in the 1960's but clearly a health professional who's worth her weight in cervical mucus should know that those terms are inappropriate and borderline offensive.

Part of it is generational, as my own 100% Chinese mother still uses the term. And if you're not "hip" to current APA appropriate language, which I understand that many folks may not be, I'm always happy to offer a simple correction and send you on your enlightened way.

But she should know. She should know that an ecogenic cardio marker is a weak and controversial marker for Down's Syndrome. She should know that the term "oriental" isn't kosher.

And she should never assume that because someone appears fairly white, except to small children and psychiatric patients who call me "Mulan," that they don't have a diverse ethnic background.

Hello, Midwife. Welcome to the USA!

So, know that I'm still searching for a new midwife. If I can stick it out through my 28-week visit (aka the sugar test extravaganza) then I'll be switching after that point. Perhaps to a home birth midwife (still iffy on that) or to another hospital-delivering midwife. Hell, I'll even take a super cool OB-GYN at this point.

Sure, you don't have to be up on racial terminology to be a great midwife. But my feeling is that birth isn't just a regular old hospital procedure. And the person pulling my child from me, or hopefully, catching her as she flies out, should be someone I trust and respect.

I just don't trust someone who obviously hasn't read a medical journal or a psychology journal in a good ten years and walks around in bright orange Crocs with jiblets (or whatever they're called).

We all have our limits.

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Parenting Mystery #457,891: Where Has All The Pee-Pee Gone?

Okay internets. I've made a pact with myself not to call the doctor on a beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon. Instead, I'm going to pick your brain over my newest obsession: my son's lack of pee.

It started a few weeks ago where I noticed he was peeing less. Basically, we were putting expensive diapers on him and he wasn't filling them up. So, I bought the cheapies and saved the expensive ones for night time.

Except for the last two nights, he's woken up dry. That's right, completely DRY.

Now, he's been acting and feeling fine, save a small cold he caught from his sister. And his bottom molars are cutting through as we speak (youch!).

But he's drinking. And eating (well, if it's fruit, bread, sometimes chicken nuggets, sometimes tofu, rice, and/or an egg on every fourth day unless it rains and then no egg -- at least that's the other pattern I can figure out thus far).

And he's pooping. Once or twice a day. And he's clearly not dehydrated.

But the pee. Well, let's just say that I put him down at 8pm last night and he didn't pee until 1pm today! EEK. It was a lot of pee. Not particularly stinky. Not particularly yellow or scary. But it was a lot. Well, once on the floor after I took off his dry diaper and twice in two diapers (I put new ones on him each time to keep track).

I'm hardpressed to believe that he's ready for potty training (he's a genius!), but he has been making some big developmental strides -- two new words last night! And he's been very active and annoying, which is always a good sign for a healthy 18 month old.

No fevers, no pain (except mine, particularly my head after long days chasing after him).

I have noticed that he's not peeing when we're out or when he's sleeping -- when he stands up or is running around at home, then he'll pee. So yesterday, he had a dry diaper when he woke up, but he peed once he came downstairs. Today, we were out all morning and then he went from the car right to a nap, so he didn't pee until he woke up from the nap.

Does that make sense? (I know people hate when people ask that question, but it seems to be a good question to ask).

So, should I be worried? Or does anyone else have any experience with a toddler like this? I mean, because it's always nice to have something to obsess over.

HELP!

In Utero Fetal Movement, As Performed by My 4-Year-Old Daughter

Didn't you always want to know what goes on in there?

Look Who's Talking

Between buying tables without my master's permission husband's opinion and realizing that I can no longer adequately care for my own nether regions thanks to the belly, my son has finally experienced his 18-month language explosion.

Or maybe it was the 15-month explosion just 3 months late? I swear that all these explosions and growth spurts are just ways to make us feel better when our kids decide to morph into Gremlins with diapers.

I mean, every time something weird is happening with Drew, I can always find some kind of Googled explanation.  The 55-week this and the 13-month that. Basically, I think they're just nice ways of saying "Kids are unpredictable as all hell so don't freak out and rearrange his furniture or remove soy from his diet."

Truth be told, the last thing a mom whose kid decides to forgo sleep for a few days doesn't necessarily want to hear "And this too shall pass." But a 14-month developmental milestone for finger dexterity? Well, HELL. Who doesn't want a kid to be able to flip off their friends and pick their nose? Sleep not my son!

But truly, his language has exploded, or really, more like burped. For us, however, where everything was just a well toned "Uh" -- you know, ending "up" for a question or "repeated 14 times in high pitch squeals you stupid idiot" for a need -- a few more words is fantastic. Life changing, if you will.

And of course, they are extremely helpful and useful words like "Cookie" and "Pool." I mean, why can't it be the answer to something that I ask him 14 times a day like "What do you want to drink?"

"POOL."

Interestingly enough, he does sort of drink from the pool on an almost daily basis, so maybe he's not that far off.

But then while my two kids were [killing each other] playing with the one lone balloon or "Boon Boon" , I heard him scream "MINE!" at the top of his lungs and I had to chuckle. Because with a well-spoken older sister and a parent readily available to interpret or play 20 questions, he really hasn't had to say much of anything.

That was until she started taking his shit. Apparently all bets are off.

So what month is that "Sharing is Caring" milestone, anyway?

The War of the [Decorative] Roses

This weekend my husband and I had a knock-down drag 'em out fight because I bought a new kitchen set without his input.

You would have thought I had sex with some dude on the kitchen set by the way he reacted.

It's an ongoing issue that has caused me much decorating strife throughout our marriage. It started when I discovered a slew of extremely scary knick knacks while packing his apartment up before we moved in together. I mean, a single dude with knick knacks other than a few beer steins is a little weird in itself, but the fact that they included a decorative glass bowl full of origami (apparently made with love by an ex-girlfriend) and a wooden representation of the front of his high school was extremely disconcerting.

It first actually affected our relationship when I was decorating Quinlan's nursery with a cute, subtle animal theme and he brought home some fucking Disney Babies border from Big Lots and insisted on putting it up in the room.

"But it was only 99 cents!" he explained.

"That's because no one else in their right might would buy it and put it up on their wall" I replied.

My husband must have his hand in every decorating purchase and every design decision, right down to which quilt goes on my daughter's bed. Granted, it wouldn't be so bad if he was home more than two days a week and he had consistent good taste. But for the most part (save a few items that we've actually agreed on), his taste is a pattern called "Good Deal" or the "Must Be On Sale" Model.

It's not that he doesn't want quality items. He just has absolutely no desire to pay anywhere near full price for them. So instead of buying items that we truly need (which I tend to think warrant sometimes bypassing the "Best Deal in History), we don't buy anything at all.

Now that's great when you're cruising a store for a golf shirt and some underpants that you don't really need, but not so great when your family is still sitting on some crappy couch you bought after pilot training when you were 23 and probably had super single sex on for a good solid 5 years.

He raids the Ross wall art sale aisle, which has included a $10 "God Bless This Home" picture and a Celtic Cross with gold accents, just so we have something to stare at while we sit on the aforementioned couch and accent chair, also known as a "Joey & Chandler" navy blue leather recliner.

A few months back I got brave and bought a coffee table set from Pier One (on sale) and a cool decorative mirror while he was out of town. I still hear about both purchases, even though anytime I let people venture past our door, it's the first two things they mention loving.

Surprise! Only the in-laws have mentioned the beautiful Celtic Cross.

So when I told him about the kitchen set, the one that would be replacing our old crappy one that only has two chairs so we have to use my daughter's bedroom desk chair (nice touch, right?), I shouldn't have been surprised that he freaked out. Of course, he had already seen it and had said in the store that he liked it. And since he's never home, I figured why not check one thing off the 100 + item list that we try to cram into our very short weekends together and just buy it.

But that didn't matter. He still had a few choice words for me.

So I told him I got the delivery and taxes knocked off the already low floor model price and all was well with the world.

I just didn't happen to mention I had to give the salesman head in exchange.