I remember being ravenous after giving birth. Well, not so much right after the fact, more like days afterwards since I had to have a c-section. When I finally regained my appetite, I wanted all the “forbidden foods” that I avoided for nine long months: raw sushi (especially spicy tuna rolls loaded with mercury); a platter of runny, soft cheeses; deli meats; hot dogs filled with nitrates; and margaritas.

Placenta? Not so much. It sounds icky, but a small but vocal group of women swear that placentophagy (the practice of eating placenta) has health benefits such as preventing the baby blues and speeding postpartum recovery. The placenta is allegedly chock full of hormones like estrogen, progesterone and oxytocin - which helps stem bleeding after birth by causing the uterus to contract. Although there are no human studies to substantiate this, placenta eaters swear that eating an organ so rich in these hormones really can prevent the baby blues.

Luckily for us humans though, breastfeeding stimulates the production of oxytocin and pretty much accomplishes the same thing in terms of mood benefits and uterine contractions. And where breastfeeding fails, Haagen Dazs comes to the rescue with none of the messy kitchen prep and cannibalistic cuisine.

Seriously though, who does this? And why? Is there no Ben & Jerry’s or Krispy Kreme Donuts where these women live? I don’t mean to diminish the overwhelming feelings that accompany the postpartum blues and postpartum depression (been there, done that.) Although I didn’t have it with my first, I definitely got the weepies and the blues with my second. Personally, I think its kind of humorous for us as a society to even pathologize these very natural emotions and label them “postpartum depression.” As far as I’m concerned, how else is a human being supposed to feel after pushing out a bowling ball sized human out of a very small orifice or being cut open and having all her insides rearranged to yank out a baby? Either way, you’ve got swelling and stitches in all the wrong places, you’re terrified of pooping for fear of ripping yourself open again, your breasts are engorged and the nipples are cracked and bleeding and you’re so sleep deprived you are actually hallucinating. Nothing you’ve read or been told prepares you for the physical ordeal and recovery that is labor and delivery, and the average person doesn’t have a full time night nurse, nanny and cook while we lay in bed and recover.

So it baffles me that any new mom would even consider eating her placenta. First of all, who wants to cook anything after giving birth? Most women are understaffed and do all the housework, so why add more work? And who wants to cook placenta? Yuck! Definitely, not my idea of comfort food. In fact, the thought of it makes me very uncomfortable for several reasons.

Contrary to the picture posted above, you really cannot run out and buy Placenta Helper so the idea of chopping up the placenta and making it palatable seems overwhelming. Luckily for the more intrepid souls, there are no shortage of placenta recipes that pop up when you google them. I found recipes for Placenta Cocktails (a little V-8, ice and lemons), Placenta Lasagna, Placenta Stew and even Placenta Pizza. For the more squeamish, there are kits available that allow you to dehydrate your placenta like beef jerkey than grind it up and encapsulate the powder into 100 or 200 pills to be taken daily. Again, all of this sounds extremely time consuming and of questionable value since all that cooking probably destroys most of the nutrients and hormones present in the placenta. And when you’re done eating the placenta feast, then what? Is that supposed to sustain you emotionally for the next 18+ years?

If anybody out there has sampled their own placenta, please post a comment and let me know how it tasted. Confront my skepticism that it made you feel better than a box of Godiva Chocolates would have. If you cop out and say it tasted like chicken though, I’ll know you’re lying!

LINKS:

MSNBC Health Article

Placenta Benefits Info

In addition to being writers, my husband and I own a home improvement business called Mr. Handyman. It’s a national franchise and we own the greater Los Angeles territory. We noticed that customers are increasingly interested in greening their homes and businesses and with the newest advances in building materials and products, it’s becoming more accessible and affordable than ever. But it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by all the choices and to learn all the lingo.

Now that the green movement has become trendy, we often forget that sometimes the most old-fashioned, low tech home improvements are still among the most effective at saving energy in your home. And saving energy is not only good for the environment by conserving resources, it conserves your hard-earned dollars as well.

These small investments can pay big dividends and increase the value of your biggest investment and biggest expense – your home. Depending on your level of know-how, this is any easy job for yourself or the handyperson in your life.

1. Insulate – For maximum energy efficiency, your home should be properly insulated from the roof down to its foundations.

2. Plug those overlooked energy leaks around the house! Use low VOC caulk and foam strips around windows and doorframes that leak air. Add door sweeps and door shoe gaskets around threshold and exterior doors. Did you know that your light switches can be an overlooked source of air leaks? Simply hold a wet hand in front of a light switch plate or outlet and if you feel air, you have a leak. Installing foam gaskets behind all the light switches and outlets can stop these energy leaks.

3. Sealing cooling and heating ducts with duct wrap or mastic sealant can save up to 25% on your energy bill.

4. Insulating your hot water heater with electric hot water heater blanket can cut your home’s co2 emissions and save you around 4% to 9% in water heating costs. You also reduce standby heat costs by 25%-45%. You probably don’t know your water heater tank’s R-value, so simply touch your heater. If it’s warm to the touch, it needs additional insulation.

5. Insulating your hot water pipes with pipe sleeves conserves the water heat on its way to your faucets. Not only does this raise the end-use temperature with a lower water temperature setting, you also conserve water since you don’t have to wait as long for warm water whenever you turn on a faucet or a shower!

6. Install a timer if you have an electric water heater which can turn hot water off at night and on again in the morning.

7. Fix plumbing leaks – a single drippy faucet can waste 212 gallons of water a month.

8. Replace showerheads with low-flow heads and replace faucets or just the aerators (the screw tip of the faucet), if you want to keep your old faucet. These low-flow showerheads can save you between 10% to 16% of water heating costs and reduce your water usage by 20,000 gallons per year.

9. Low flow toilets use 1.6 gallons or less per flush.

10. Install ceiling fans and cut air conditioning costs by 40% in summer. On moderately hot days, the fans can replace the a/c altogether. They can make your air conditioner’s job easier by circulating the cool air and allowing you to set the thermostat higher. Alternatively, in the winter, these ceiling fans work to circulate warm air from the ceiling back down to the floor.

11. Energy efficient compact fluorescent bulbs may cost more initially, but they last 8 to 12 times longer. Just one bulb alone can save at least $30 in electric bills over its lifespan and reduce greenhouse emissions from power plants. If every U.S. household replaced 5 bulbs, it would be the equivalent of removing one million cars from the road per year.

12. Consider outdoor solar lighting. They’re easy to install and virtually maintenance free. Best of all, they provide free electricity.

13. Lighting controls and timers can save energy. Dimmers can vary the amount of light needed in various situations. Motion detector outside can increase security and decrease energy expenditure. Timers can be set to turn lights off and on and predetermined times.

14. Replace old windows with new high performance dual pane windows with low-e coatings. Or alternatively, apply self-adhesive reflective film on the windows. These films work by reflecting solar heat and u/v rays and reduce air conditioning bills. In addition, reflective film can eliminate interior upholstery fading by blocking harmful uv rays.

15. Install shades, drapes, awnings or sunscreens to block light on hot sunny days and keep cooling costs down. On overcast days or at night, closing these drapes can retain warm air. This may seem like an old-fashioned and low tech, but it’s surprisingly effective and time-tested tactic.

16. Reuse and Recycle! Home improvement projects generate a substantial amount of solid waste. How about donating perfectly good cabinets, sinks and other appliances to Habitat for Humanity Reuse store? Get a tax write-off, help someone else in need and save room in the landfill – a win win situation.

These are just a few, inexpensive ways you can go green without going broke in the process. For more information, check out these links.

LINKS:

Habitat for Humanity

Mr. Handyman

Treehugger

Terrapass

Beware of old ladies in Christmas sweaters this time of year. Seriously. Women of a certain age who sport these yuletide monstrosities fit a very particular psychological profile and it’s best to just avoid confrontation and eye contact. It takes a pathologically aggressive personality to don knitwear with reindeer and snowmen over leggings and deem it suitable for public. Matching earrings or brooches are optional, but should serve as a warning that this grandma is particularly badass. It’s an act of fashion aggression that matches their self-centered, f@ck you attitude. They’re the ladies who cut in front of you line at the mall, steal your parking space and yell at your children in the store.

They can be a public nuisance and it’s best to avoid any checkout lines at the grocery store with Xmas sweater wearers because you can guarantee they’ll hold up the line with a terrifying assortment of expired coupons or harangue the checker with some complaint . Sure, they may look doughy and harmless enough but beware of their bright red, acrylic talons. Once they get you in their arthritic grip, there’s no escape.

On the plus side, you can see them coming a mile away and avoid unpleasant encounters by being vigilant. Last night, my husband and I took the boys out to dinner at Mogo’s Mongolian Barbeque. This has to be one of my favorite restaurants in the Valley. It’s a family-operated restaurant in a strip mall with ugly 70’s decor. But the food is an all-you-can eat buffet of meat and vegetables that you assemble yourself and give to the cook who stir fries it over an enormous circular steel drum of a stove. The place has a homey, kitschy charm and attracts a hardcore group of regulars who wait outside the doors for the restaurant to open. Once you place your order, you help yourself to the assortment of sauces, meats and veggies to assemble your stir fry.

My hubby and I usually take turns to go up since we have the children to attend to at the table and the line at the stove isn’t too bad as long as you get there early enough. I hadn’t gotten up to get my food yet but wasn’t in a particular hurry since nobody was up ahead of me. Suddenly, a group of middle aged women walked in and my husband immediately looked up and said quickly, “Women wearing Christmas sweaters, better get up there.” Sure enough, they didn’t even bother to sit down at a table to place their order and started rushing the food. A waitress had to run after them to take their order, but they didn’t pause. They kept walking and barked out their order as the waitress trotted next to them breathlessly scribbling into her notepad . Luckily, the waitress proved to be a momentary diversion and I managed to slip past them to get my food. But it was close. Like bears, they may look big and clumsy and cuddly, but when fighting over food, they can be surprisingly fast and fierce.

So I thought I’d raise awareness about the Xmas Sweater Mafia and perform a valuable public service. But when the holidays are over and the last sweater abomination is packed away in mothballs, I’m afraid we’re all on our own to identify these sociopaths lurking amongst us. Intrigued by this sweater phenomenon, I tried to research more about the history of the Xmas Sweater, but found very little about the origins. However, I did turn up this little entry at wikipedia:

 Holiday sweaters contain a (sometimes cheesy) Christmas or New Year’s related design. Patterns for holiday sweaters can be found dating from as far back as the turn of the century, but they only became common after the Second World War - before that time women didn’t wear patterned sweaters at all (before ca. 1918 women rarely wore sweaters except as jackets/coats) and men who wore sweaters generally wore either traditional patterns or plain sweaters. Before 1945 most people couldn’t afford a special sweater just for one season, either - most people had two or three changes of clothing at most. Knitters spent most of their time on socks, mitts, and other necessary cold-weather accessories.

What happened after the Second World War is that the wool manufacturing industry had to find a way to sell wool. Manufacturers had built huge factories for carding and sorting wool and producing fibers in order to fill the demand for uniform cloth during the war, but the larger wardrobes being purchased by returning veterans and their families contained a lot of items made of the new synthetic fabrics. So as not to take a huge loss on the facilities built during the war, manufacturers retooled to a small extent and started producing much larger amounts of yarn than they previously had. In order to sell this, they promoted sweaters as a fashion statement and prompted the development of commercial knitting facilities. They also produced thousands of pattern books for the home knitter and crocheter. These pattern books proliferated and things like holiday sweaters, novelty socks, crocheted toilet roll covers (anybody remember those at Grandma’s house?) and even ‘peter heaters’ (I kid you not; my mother, may she rest in peace, had a pattern. And yes, it had sizes S-M-L-XL.) Basically, if you could knit it there was a pattern for it. It was in this flurry of knitting frenzy that the holiday sweater became an entrenched part of the Anglo-American holiday period. Later on in the 70s when hand knitting became ‘old-fashioned’ and ‘fuddy-duddy’, it became more common to buy the holiday sweater. Nowadays it’s all back.

Source: my mother’s 363460989843 knitting books. –Charlene 09:24, 11 March 2007 (UTC)

Last Friday, another mom friend of mine actually said, “Thank God it’s Friday” as she was picking up her son from school. I blinked in disbelief and started at her in surprise.  Now that I’m a parent, there’s no earthly reason to rejoice about an upcoming weekend. “Why?” I asked incredulously. She paused and laughed, “Actually, I don’t know why. I guess it’s just habit. It’s not as if our weekends are relaxing or anything. Or fun…”

My point exactly. Ever since I became a mom, Saturdays and Sundays are just days that I now have to entertain my bored kids on top of all the other crap I have to do.  Or worse, hit the endless birthday party circuit after karate lessons and grocery shopping and cleaning the house and doing laundry. In my childless days, I used to sleep in until noon after staying out late. I had a leisurely late lunch and ran some errands. I hung out with friends and even saw movies. There used to be down time and me time. I used to have fun.

I’m not sure how life got to be so full of things I had to do without enough time to do them. And the housework expands exponentially when everybody is home. I’m the only XX chromosome in the house, so trying to pick up after a family of boys (all children actually) is like shoveling the walkway during a blizzard. It’s ultimately futile, but you have to make the attempt. My husband is a huge help, but between the two of us, we’re still scrambling around frantically. Most of the time, we divide and conquer since the two boys are so far apart in age and have different needs. My six-year-old has his own very busy social calendar with birthday parties and karate lessons and homework. My 15-month old tires easily and still naps twice a day. It’s not always possible to schlep him to everything so we have to accommodate both of them. I’m actually relieved when Monday rolls around again.

Someday, maybe when the boys are grown, I’ll reclaim my weekends again as a time to relax and rejuvenate and to see my husband. But I can only foresee them getting exponentially crazier as Asher grows up and hits his own birthday circuit and has his own sporting events and activities.  I’ll wave to my husband from my car and see him in 18 years.

I don’t know if H.P. Lovecraft is the new Dr. Seuss, but there’s a new children’s book out that uses Lovecraftian imagery and mythology to teach your little uns the ABC’s and 123’s. I haven’t held the actual book in my hands, but I can imagine only how it goes: A is for Abomination or B for Brimstone and C is for Cthulthu (of course)…

Written by C.J. Henderson and illustrated by Erica Henderson, this book looks like the perfect antidote to the saccharine sweet offerings of pathologically perky bunnies and kitties that dominate children’s literature. It guarantees a head start to making your offspring as sick and twisted as you are.

Links (amazon.com and  Geek Parenting review)

This is a cute idea for those of you who want to skip the line at the mall to get your child to sit on Santa’s lap. I heartily recommend that you not scare the crap out of your children by forcing them to sit on a strange man with an ill-fitting beard. But if you have your heart set on a picture of your child in hysterics, you really can’t duplicate the terror that Santa can instill in a small child.

Santa Speaking will arrange for Santa to call your child, whether he’s naughty or nice. Choose the time you’d like the phone call and for $21.95, Santa will have a 3 to 5 minute chat with your child. There’s even a blog and a Santa tracker that begins on Christmas Eve. I haven’t tried this service since we are raising our sons Jewish (like my husband) and my 6-year-old doesn’t believe in Santa. But for those of you who are desperately trying to keep up the ruse, this is a clever way to get your little one to work a little harder to stay on the “nice” list.

Link - Santaspeaking.com

My neighbor’s dog was running amok in the street so I gave a friendly phone call to alert them and had one of the most surreal conversations I’ve had in a long time. My neighbor, I’ll call her Nicki, is a 40-something mom and a ghost writer for autobiographies, but like everybody in L.A., she’s a wannabe screenwriter. She’s the daughter of a legendary producer of B-movies so she’s a lifelong industry insider. We’re friendly and socialize on occasions but I’ve never initiated any social encounters because I’ve always found her to be a spectacularly self-involved, name dropper. So I give her a ring and let her know that her puppy is running for the hills.

She seemed only marginally interested in her missing dog and asked me where my husband has been picketing during the writer’s strike and cackled, “So what do you do with him all day long?!” I tried to stammer a polite reply but with the Writer’s Guild requiring their members to picket 20 hours a week, our other small business we run - Mr. Handyman, and our two kids, he’s not exactly lounging around the house in a wife beater t-shirt and boxers. But she didn’t give me a chance to reply because she launched into a crazy long monologue about how much fun this writer’s strike has been for her since she’s been picketing in her spare time. (Note: you don’t have to be a Writer’s Guild member to picket - they’ll be thrilled to have you join the line if you have nothing better to do. So to all you aspiring scribes, now’s your chance to network, network, network and for all you single ladies out there - you will never meet more middle-aged, predominately Jewish and unemployed men in one place! )

She yammered on and on about how many great contacts she’s made and how this has been the most rejuvenating, fun experience in years. I wanted to reach through the phone and punch her in the nose. I’m happy she’s having such a good time, really I am. But I was taken aback by her utter lack of sensitivity to our plight. Yes, it’s true, writing is a solitary endeavor so for most of these pasty writers, sunlight and human contact is an exciting and novel experience known to induce giddiness. But have some sympathy for those of us who haven’t had a paycheck in over five weeks and are going into the holiday season with no idea when the next paycheck will be. My husband’s show, “The Ghost Whisperer” has shut down indefinitely and the entire writing staff and below-the-line crew are now unemployed. Although my husband is relieved that they weren’t in production when Jennifer Love Hewitt’s allegedly size two posterior made its internet rounds and eventually landed on the cover of People Magazine. The mood on the set would’ve been tense, to say the least. I love having my husband around more, but unlike my neighbor, it hasn’t been the most festive time of our lives.

Meanwhile, my neighbor’s dog was still on the loose and heading deeper into the canyon. I had to interrupt her gleeful name dropping to remind her about her dog. She abruptly gasped and said, “Oh no!” and hung up on me. I sighed and tried to shake off the icky feeling but it persisted into the afternoon. I wonder what it is about L.A. that causes so many people to suffer from Narcissistic Personality Disorder. I know it’s not a phenomenon unique to Angelenos, but it’s truly an epidemic around here. I am just as self-involved as the next person, but at least I have the social graces to pretend I am not. Writer Sandra Tsing Loh hilariously bemoaned this inability to have a real conversation in her quintessential book about L.A.: “A Year in Van Nuys.” She likens basic small talk to a game of catch. First you throw the ball, then your partner catches it and then they throw it back. But most Angelenos have forgotten how to throw that conversational ball back and end up just running away with the ball. I couldn’t agree more.

Most of the time, I feel like I’m playing a game of Dodgeball with people. I run into them at the store or they call me and literally assault me with a one-sided harangue about their kids, their agent and whatever else is going on in their pitiful, boring lives and then look at their watch and abruptly hang up or run off with a “nice catching up with you.” Huh??? Since when does verbally purging on another person count as “catching up” or meaningful human interaction?

And nothing’s sacred in this town. There isn’t any tragedy or life event immune from self-promotion. When my father died after a protracted battle with cancer, my husband’s former best friend acknowledged this by sending a flyer to her new play with a sentence of condolence scribbled in the corner saying, “Sorry to hear about your loss, but coming to my play might cheer you up!” As if sending a condolence note on a flyer wasn’t tacky enough, diminishing my loss by relegating it to a mere bummer day that the attendance of her amateur production would dispel was so narcissistic it was funny.

I’ve even had my gynecologist pitch me a screenplay idea while wrist deep in my vagina during my annual pap smear. Of course, I told him I thought it was a good idea - what other answer do you give someone who’s inserting something into your cervix? So when it comes to shameless self-promotion, I think I’ve pretty much seen, heard and experienced it all. Maybe that’s why I’ve become increasingly solitary. I’ve always been an introvert with a small circle of hardcore friends whom I treasure dearly. I like to socialize and have human interaction but what’s a person supposed to do when most social interactions are masquerading as energy vampirism? I end up the depleted, drained victim while the perp walks away revitalized and renewed from the encounter? And these energy vampires are reproducing at an alarming rate. They’re everywhere and garlic and crucifixes don’t work on them. So I’m open to any anti-energy vampire talismans or ideas you might have.

Who doesn’t like a pop-up book? My kids like them so much they have bookshelves of mutilated pop-up books. At Somethingawful.com, there’s a compilation of the most inappropropriate, creepy pop-up books like the Alien one below.

For the complete list, here’s the LINK (via BoingBoing)

This Ghost Towel is too cute to accurately reflect the true horror that is bath time. Not only for the child, but for the weary parent who has to chase a naked, dirty child around the house in order to cajole, wheedle, threaten and ultimately wrangle their spry offspring into the tub. Unfortunately, getting them into the water is only half the battle. Now that they’re wet, the advantage is all theirs as the slip and writhe out of your grasp as you feebly attempt to wash them. Afterwards, the chase resumes as you try to catch them streaking through the house, leaving a slippery trail of water in their wake for you to slip and slide on. It’s a freaking miracle I haven’t broken a hip yet repeating this ritual, TWICE a night with my two boys.

My son perked up when he saw this towel on my computer screen and asked if I could buy it for him. This retails for about $35 (U.S. Dollars), so it’s not the cheapest towel you could buy for a kid. But if it makes him hold still for even a nanosecond while I dry him off, it’s well worth the money.

LINK (via Neatorama)

The New York Archdiocese of the Roman Catholic Church has released “Being Friends, Being Safe, Being Catholic” to parishioners. This isn’t just your ordinary Christian handout either. The coloring book is drawn in a comic book style and depicts an angel warning children never to be alone in a closed room with an adult (especially priests).

I have to say that I’m confused about what is going on in this picture. I’m not Catholic so maybe that’s why I’m so puzzled. Is this a little boy in the foreground and what on earth is he doing? Is he pulling a sweater on or off? My guess is that he’s a choir boy putting on his robe while the creepy looking priest waves at him. Let me know what you guys think.

 LINK (NEWSWEEK)