To cut or not to cut

One of the many things you have to think about if you are possibly having a boy child is whether or not to circumcise the kid. If you're Jewish and even semi-observant, this is usually a no-brainer. In fact, it was a no-brainer for most people until a few years ago, when people started to question whether it's medically necessary. And of course, in many parts of the world, it's never been done routinely.

Of course my husband and I disagree on this. I don't really want to do it, and he really does. I am trying to understand his reasons, and I know in some ways I can't simply because I'm not a dude. Basically, he is afraid it will "cramp his style" with the ladies (I have tried to assure him it won't), and he's afraid the kid won't look like every other kid and will get made fun of in the locker room. Considering that the kid will be growing up in Brooklyn, where lots of new-age hippie-style parents are refusing to circumcise, I actually think he will look different from everyone else if he IS circumcised.

Anyway, I really am trying very hard to take all these concerns on board and take them seriously. It's as much my husband's decision as it is mine. But I can't help it. I hate the idea of someone cutting up my tiny little baby's penis! I hate it I hate it I hate it. And yeah, I understand that it's a pain in the ass to wash an uncircumcised penis several times a day. But I would seriously rather wash that weird little dick-sweater six times a day than have some doctor cut it off. I just can't bear to think about that.

There is the disease factor to consider. Some studies have shown that having a circumcised penis can significantly reduce a man's risk of getting HIV or other sexually-transmitted diseases. Of course I hope our son (if it is a son) will be smart enough to use a condom, but you can't really plan on that.

Anyway, yeah. We need to work this one out. Which will be fun. 

Baby names

So my husband and I are in complete agreement on what we'll name the baby if it's a boy and nowhere near agreement on what we'll name it if it's a girl. (Which means we're having a girl, of course.)

Out of curiosity, and looking for some inspiration, I made the mistake of looking up a baby names website. I kind of knew the names would largely be horrible, but I wasn't really prepared for how horrible. The people behind this website apparently think it's acceptable to name your child any of the following: Amari. Celyn. Genoveva. Evaki. Evensong. (Evensong!!!!) Fuschia. Bracken. (The fuck?!?!) Ginerva (which sounds to me like a vitamin supplement for old people). Hop. Kiley. Lochellen (a female monster in Scotland?) Randilyn (please, don't). Sequence (this is not a name!!!) Yank (umm...just put the stripper pole in the nursery already because a girl named Yank is destined for a career in pornography). Yoad (a girl named Yoad is destined for a lifetime of loneliness. Also--I wonder if they meant Yoda and mispelled it. Because while either name seems ludicrous for a girl, I feel that I've already demonstrated how little taste these supposed baby namers have). Bridge. (Motherfucking BRIDGE. Again, not a name!)

No thanks, babynames.com.

I find that Facebook is also an unintentional treasure trove of terrible names. That's how I found out that some chick who knows some chick I went to high school with 20 years ago named her daughter Londyn. Londyn--with a y. 

Back to the drawing board, obviously. 

Orgasmic Birth...and other complete tripe

So I'm a little over halfway through my Hypnobirthing class.

I feel like about 60% of it is really helpful and 40% of it is just hippie dippie propaganda, as I had predicted. Helpful: the breathing exercises and the relaxation tapes. Yes, the tapes are dorky, but they work! I fall asleep almost every time I listen to the main one. I do feel that, with practice, I am teaching myself how to relax, which is really helpful.

But the propaganda part is pretty annoying. Like, one of our assignments was to watch a film called "Orgasmic Birth." Yes, you read that right.

I did not get past the opening credits. After seeing exactly one minute of the film, my husband said, "This movie should be called 'Ugly Hippie Chicks Ejecting Babies While Coming.'" Which is pretty much exactly what happened during the opening credits. It was like the world's worst porn movie.

Also--birth as an orgasmic experience? I'm sorry, but I call bullshit. We came up with some possible sequel ideas: Orgasmic Tax Return Preparation, Orgasmic Root Canals, Orgasmic Going to your Job on Monday.

Next I'm supposed to watch "The Business of Being Born," a.k.a. the Ricki Lake water birthing documentary. I'm told that its alternate title should have been "If You Have Your Baby in a Hospital You Will Die." We'll see if I can get through more of that movie than the other one. 

Sandy

Well, that was a fucking weird week.

I was hardly affected at all. Though I live very close to an evacuation zone (you can see Wall Street from my house! Meaning I live very close to the East River in Brooklyn), it wasn't close enough. Thank God. We never lost power; we only lost Internet for a few hours on Monday.

But it was still weird. My office is in downtown Manhattan, so it was closed for the whole week, and I had no access to e-mail. Our website still worked, so I updated from home, in the comfort of my jammies, like so many media people that week. (Someone wrote on Twitter on Tuesday morning, "90% of the news you'll read today was written by someone in pajamas who was drinking before noon.") I did not even bother trying to leave my neighborhood, since so many people who had to go into  Manhattan for work (including my husband) said it was a shit show.

I lived in NYC through the massive floods of '99 (which crippled the subway for an entire day and which, up until last week, had stood out as a crazy day in my mind) and of course Sept. 11. Never have I seen the place just grind to a halt--and for almost a week! Holy shit people, that was unprecedented. And so very, very weird.

It was strange to see half of Manhattan with no lights. It was weird to see huge lines at the gas station across the street (and listen to people yelling at each other as tempers flared, even more than normal for New York). And it was awful to watch the scenes of devastation all over the city, and guilt-inducing to do so from the comfort of my warm, dry, electrified living room.

I couldn't really help out with cleanup, being all pregnant and wanting to avoid toxic chemicals. So I sent a few shekels to various charities and made a couple huge vats of baked ziti to send to a shelter. I feel like I didn't do enough, but at the same time I didn't really know what else to do. I kept thinking of that Onion article from Sept. 11 that said something like, "Ohio Woman, Not Knowing What Else To Do, Bakes American Flag Cake." Other than that, I mostly tried to do my part by staying out of the way as much as possible--not adding to the scrum of commuters trying to go places. I didn't have to be anywhere, so I didn't try. I rescheduled various appointments, didn't attempt to go grocery shopping until several days later and just generally kept a low profile.

Oh, and I pigged out like a little piggy. I baked five dozen chocolate chip cookies and ate 90% of them. Yeah, I have back fat now. My doctor is gonna yell at me tomorrow when I break the scale.

I can't take more of this election coverage, so I'm going to bed. Night y'all.