Earlier this week I joined Bloggy Moms. It seemed like a neat way to connect with other moms who blog. I was looking to find bloggers who were similar to me. And I did. Several, in fact. It is nice to know that I am not alone in feeling frustrated about my family's lack of help around the house, that I can share the joy my girls bring me, and that, through my "teaching" blog, I can offer helpful advice to teacher and parents of middle school kids.
Last night, in order to continue fostering those new relationships, I left several comments on the new blogs I am following. But I was disappointed to see a pattern emerge. A lot of comments people left were simply statements that they were now following the blog and wishing the writer to follow their blog back. There was no engagement with the content of the blog. In fact, I was a bit saddened that I received one of these comments on my post about my grandmother, who had recently passed away. How do you leave a comment on a post like that without acknowledging the writer's sorrow?
The number of followers I have does not concern me. I would rather have 5 followers who continually engage with the content of my posts rather than 100 who just "followed" my blog so I would follow them back. I have no interest in following coupon blogs, give-away blogs, or blogs by new moms. Don't get me wrong, those blogs have their niche and they may be very well written. But I don't use coupons, I don't have time for entering a thousand give-aways, and I am so far past the new-mom phase of life that I am probably closer to being a grandma (not for several more years yet, ok G and Lili?) Yet, I feel guilty when those bloggers follow me and I know they expect a follow back.
But I don't have time to read all the blogs on the web. I don't have time to read 1/1000000000 of them, I'm sure. So I hope that the people who follow my blogs are truly interested in what I have to say, that they comment and share their similar experiences and stories, and that they aren't offended when their blog is not one that appeals to me. Because my time is way too value to have to sift through my google reader, trying to remember which blogs I followed because I wanted to and which I followed out of a sense of duty.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Let's play fill in the adjective...
My kitchen is not big. In fact, it is so small that it is too small to be called small. It is not handy for more than one person to be working on any one thing at a time. But if I am emptying the dishwasher in the morning, that is the exact moment my husband has to have breakfast. The girls both think the time for a bedtime snack is right when I am in the middle of packing lunches. THEIR lunches!
Yet if I am in the kitchen fixing dinner, it somehow becomes a black hole. A place to be avoided at all costs. To be fair, tonight G (almost 14) did call from the living room and ask if I needed help tonight. But it does seem like she only calls and asks at that exact moment I have finished the dinner prep.
So what adjective do you think would describe my feelings about this? I look forward to your words. :)
Sunday, January 16, 2011
What the World Needs...
Many of you already know that my Grandma Miles died on Christmas Day. She didn't want any kind of funeral or memorialservice. We honored her wishes. I am still not sure if not having that made it harder or easier to suffer her loss. I know I am glad that my mom did not have to take on the burden of planning a service and I hope that people who knew Grandma are honoring her in their own way. I know that I would have had things to share about Grandma at a service. But at the time I think I would have found it hard to organize my thoughts.
Last night while Genevieve was on my computer, I hand-wrote what I thought would be today's post. I felt like it was time to say something about my Grandma. I wrote four pages about what she meant to me and what I would miss about her. I am glad I did that. But this morning, what I wrote yesterday didn't seem to be enough. Those four pages were telling me they needed to be written in a different way. So below is my tribute to my Grandma, who we also called Nana after great-grandbabies came along. I hope it would make Grandma happy.
What the world needs...
What the world needs is Grandmothers.
Not just any Grandmother.
Not accident-of-biology Grandmothers.
But real and true Grandmothers.
Grandmothers who take you places.
Take you places camping or shopping or exotic travel.
Take you places like Ponderosa or KFC or KMart or Giantway.
Or take you places like small towns during the Great Depression
or to factories where you work hard for what you have
or to glimpses of your parents' childhood and forgotten parts of your own
through stories they tell over and over again.
What the world needs is Grandmothers.
Grandmothers who give you things.
Give you things like your favorite shampoo your mom won't buy
or $100 every Christmas or surprise gifts whenever
just to let you know she's thinking of you.
Give you things like loans when you need it
or bags of groceries because she couldn't figure out
how to shop for one person after Grandpa died.
Give you things like values and hugs and praise
and time and confidence and unconditional love.
What the world needs is Grandmothers.
Grandmothers who let you do things.
Let you do things loudly like play and sing and dance
and turn cartwheels in the living room and laugh.
Let you do things like have yard sales at her house and sell
her stuff and keep the money and store your junk at her house.
Let you do things like put "dibs" on the things she has that you love.
Let you do things like mess up and make mistakes and cry.
What the world needs is Grandmothers.
Grandmothers who make you feel.
Make you feel like a perpetual child, even after you turn 40.
Make you feel a connection to history and family.
Make you feel confident and smart and worthy.
Make you feel like you are the most important person ever born.
Make you feel like there is a hole in your heart when she has to leave.
What the world needs is Grandmothers.
Grandmothers who help you see.
See the importance of family and story and connections and love.
See the gifts she has given you to celebrate what is important.
See the values she has passed on to guide your living.
See that you would give back all the stuff you "dibbed"
if it brought her back for even a day.
See that even after she is gone, she is with you forever.
What the world needs is Grandmothers.
Grandmothers who make you realize.
Realize that the world needs Grandmothers.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Harry Connick, Jr., a crazy lady in a bathrobe, and a hotel fire
I love going to workshops, seminars, and conferences for work. I love learning new ideas and strategies that will help me to improve and perfect the craft of teaching. I also love networking and meeting new people from other schools to hear about their experiences and work. And I love hanging out with my colleagues in a setting outside of school. So I was really looking forward to the last two days at a workshop in Ludington with three other formative assessment coaches from my school. Unfortunately, one of them ended up getting sick, but Stacey, Marla, and I had a fantastic time and we are returning with some great stories.
The workshop had a relatively small group and as many of us drove some distance and were staying in hotels, ten of us got together for dinner. It was a lovely time, full of conversations that had us laughing and connecting with each other. The ladies among us (9 of the 10!) fawned over the waiter, who bore a striking resemblance to Harry Connick, Jr. Sadly, we could not convince him to sing for us and the restaurant had no piano. He insisted that Harry Connick, Jr. looks like him.
After dinner, we headed back to the hotel. Nine of the ten were staying at the same place. As we keyed into the back door of the hotel, we all noticed a bad, almost burning, smell. But we continued on to our room, joking with Linda, who was headed up the elevator, that we would let the firefighters know she was in the elevator if the building really was on fire. In our room, the three of us made calls to our families and got comfy in our jammies. Stacey decided to walk to the lobby to check her email, but when she opened the door, we could hear the smoke detectors buzzing loudly. I have been in hotels when the smoke detectors went off before, and my behavior has always been to ignore them. But this time, Stacey reported that there was smoke in the hallway, so we decided we probably better head outside.
As we waited in the back of the hotel, we chatted with Joel (the lone male at dinner) who said that someone had told him we would be evacuated to another hotel. We were not happy to hear that! Then, from the far end of the hotel two figures emerged. It was Jane, the workshop
presenter, and Sara, the facilitator from the organization that sponsored the workshop. These two women are classy and smart and it is truly a pleasure to learn from them. But now, Jane was bundled in her winter coat and Sara...oh Sara! Sara had on flannel kitty pajama pants, a pink fuzzy robe with monkey faces all over it, and winter hat that came down over her ears. Best of all, she was carrying a bottle of wine and a stack of dixie cups. We stood there for a bit, shivering and predicting what might have happened and when we would get back into our rooms.
Finally Jane said, "Let's pour that wine and then drive around to the front of the hotel and find out what is going on!" Oh my, we laughed so hard that this woman who we so admired was encouraging us to climb into a car with open intoxicants! But of course, we did it! Sara parked at the door to the hotel, and strode purposefully into the hotel to find out what was going on, and see where the promised cookies (set out by the hotel staff from 8pm to 9pm each night) might be. Sara was only in the hotel for minutes before she emerged, carrying a tray of cookies. The four of us waiting in the car were laughing again as Sara passed a gentleman wheeling his suitcase into the hotel to check in. We weren't sure if the look he gave her said, "Why is there a crazy woman in a bathrobe leaving the hotel?" or "Hey, where is she taking the cookies?"
After Sara came back out to the car, we discussed where Linda might be, hoping she had not indeed gotten stuck in the elevator! As we drove around to the side of the hotel to watch the firemen who had shown up while we were out back, we saw Linda. We found out that it was she who had first seen the smoke billowing out of the pool room when she got off the elevator after dinner. She had gone to the front desk to tell them to call 911 and was frustrated by the young workers who didn't seem to want to listen to her. Luckily, in the end, they did listen to her, the firefighters were able to take care of the rags smoldering in turpentine in a pool room full of paint fumes, and we were able to return to our rooms. We couldn't use the pool, obviously, but we sure got a workout from laughing!
The workshop had a relatively small group and as many of us drove some distance and were staying in hotels, ten of us got together for dinner. It was a lovely time, full of conversations that had us laughing and connecting with each other. The ladies among us (9 of the 10!) fawned over the waiter, who bore a striking resemblance to Harry Connick, Jr. Sadly, we could not convince him to sing for us and the restaurant had no piano. He insisted that Harry Connick, Jr. looks like him.
After dinner, we headed back to the hotel. Nine of the ten were staying at the same place. As we keyed into the back door of the hotel, we all noticed a bad, almost burning, smell. But we continued on to our room, joking with Linda, who was headed up the elevator, that we would let the firefighters know she was in the elevator if the building really was on fire. In our room, the three of us made calls to our families and got comfy in our jammies. Stacey decided to walk to the lobby to check her email, but when she opened the door, we could hear the smoke detectors buzzing loudly. I have been in hotels when the smoke detectors went off before, and my behavior has always been to ignore them. But this time, Stacey reported that there was smoke in the hallway, so we decided we probably better head outside.
As we waited in the back of the hotel, we chatted with Joel (the lone male at dinner) who said that someone had told him we would be evacuated to another hotel. We were not happy to hear that! Then, from the far end of the hotel two figures emerged. It was Jane, the workshop
presenter, and Sara, the facilitator from the organization that sponsored the workshop. These two women are classy and smart and it is truly a pleasure to learn from them. But now, Jane was bundled in her winter coat and Sara...oh Sara! Sara had on flannel kitty pajama pants, a pink fuzzy robe with monkey faces all over it, and winter hat that came down over her ears. Best of all, she was carrying a bottle of wine and a stack of dixie cups. We stood there for a bit, shivering and predicting what might have happened and when we would get back into our rooms.Finally Jane said, "Let's pour that wine and then drive around to the front of the hotel and find out what is going on!" Oh my, we laughed so hard that this woman who we so admired was encouraging us to climb into a car with open intoxicants! But of course, we did it! Sara parked at the door to the hotel, and strode purposefully into the hotel to find out what was going on, and see where the promised cookies (set out by the hotel staff from 8pm to 9pm each night) might be. Sara was only in the hotel for minutes before she emerged, carrying a tray of cookies. The four of us waiting in the car were laughing again as Sara passed a gentleman wheeling his suitcase into the hotel to check in. We weren't sure if the look he gave her said, "Why is there a crazy woman in a bathrobe leaving the hotel?" or "Hey, where is she taking the cookies?"
After Sara came back out to the car, we discussed where Linda might be, hoping she had not indeed gotten stuck in the elevator! As we drove around to the side of the hotel to watch the firemen who had shown up while we were out back, we saw Linda. We found out that it was she who had first seen the smoke billowing out of the pool room when she got off the elevator after dinner. She had gone to the front desk to tell them to call 911 and was frustrated by the young workers who didn't seem to want to listen to her. Luckily, in the end, they did listen to her, the firefighters were able to take care of the rags smoldering in turpentine in a pool room full of paint fumes, and we were able to return to our rooms. We couldn't use the pool, obviously, but we sure got a workout from laughing!
Friday, December 24, 2010
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Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Car Seats and Rescue Workers
This morning, I cried as I watched Good Morning America. The story was about a little boy, just two years old, who had been in a terrible car accident. Click the link if you missed the story. Though mostly the tears were out of happiness because the story has a happy ending, they were also tears of understanding for the parents of that little guy and for some of what they had to endure in the hours immediately after the accident. And one thing that Dr. Richard Besser said, which prompted this post, was that two things (besides the obvious pain-staking work by incredible doctors) saved that boy's life: his car seat and the rescue workers who kept his head and neck secure.
In 2004, my husband, my two daughters and I had just experienced a fun-filled day at an outdoor concert.
Later that day, we were in a fatal car accident. A driver with a blood alcohol content of over twice the legal limit smashed into our Jeep. That driver and two of his three passengers were killed.
My girls were 7 and 4 years old. According to Michigan law at the time, Lilienne was still required to be in a car seat, but Genevieve no longer needed one. But guidelines suggested otherwise, and so we still used one for her as well. Aside from Genevieve's broken arm, the girls did not suffer serious injuries. Police officers at the scene said the car seats made a difference.
Rescue workers arrived at the scene within minutes. They were efficient, calm, and caring. They were also cautious and thorough. Both Genevieve and I ended up strapped to boards. Poor G was on hers for nearly 7 hours, but I appreciate the concern that the paramedics took to make sure she did not suffer a neck or spinal injury. The 7 hours were very long for her, but short compared to a lifetime of paralysis.
So sometimes, I get a little mushy and dramatic. But I know that it is thanks to car seats and rescue workers that I have two beautiful and wonderful reasons to be thankful and joyous this holiday season.
In 2004, my husband, my two daughters and I had just experienced a fun-filled day at an outdoor concert.
Later that day, we were in a fatal car accident. A driver with a blood alcohol content of over twice the legal limit smashed into our Jeep. That driver and two of his three passengers were killed.My girls were 7 and 4 years old. According to Michigan law at the time, Lilienne was still required to be in a car seat, but Genevieve no longer needed one. But guidelines suggested otherwise, and so we still used one for her as well. Aside from Genevieve's broken arm, the girls did not suffer serious injuries. Police officers at the scene said the car seats made a difference.
Rescue workers arrived at the scene within minutes. They were efficient, calm, and caring. They were also cautious and thorough. Both Genevieve and I ended up strapped to boards. Poor G was on hers for nearly 7 hours, but I appreciate the concern that the paramedics took to make sure she did not suffer a neck or spinal injury. The 7 hours were very long for her, but short compared to a lifetime of paralysis.So sometimes, I get a little mushy and dramatic. But I know that it is thanks to car seats and rescue workers that I have two beautiful and wonderful reasons to be thankful and joyous this holiday season.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Snowmen and Christmas Cookies
My Grandma was a hairdresser. She had a salon in her home, but we never called it a salon; it was always called the beauty shop--lowercase. It didn't even have a proper name. Her customers were mainly little blue-haired old ladies. At least that is how I remember them. These ladies showered Grandma with gifts during the holidays. Most of them were hand made: doilies, strange beaded window hangings, lots of plastic canvas, and crocheted toilet paper covers. The other thing she got a lot of was Avon. And my favorite of her Avon gifts was this cute snow couple. Grandma used to complain about the blinking lights, but I would always turn them on when I got to her house. Finally she decided to give them to me and now they have a rightful place in my home, blinking merrily in the living room at Christmas time.
I also think of Grandma at Christmas because she made the best Christmas cookies. She cut them in big Christmas tree shapes and sprinkled them lightly with green sugar. And I always got to take home any that were left after our holiday gathering at her house. The dough for the cookies is very hard to mix up when all the flour is added, but even after she no longer had the strength to mix them, she would make Grandpa do that part so I could still have cookies. Now, my girls and I use her recipe and have made our own tradition of baking Grandma's cookies on Christmas Eve.
I also think of Grandma at Christmas because she made the best Christmas cookies. She cut them in big Christmas tree shapes and sprinkled them lightly with green sugar. And I always got to take home any that were left after our holiday gathering at her house. The dough for the cookies is very hard to mix up when all the flour is added, but even after she no longer had the strength to mix them, she would make Grandpa do that part so I could still have cookies. Now, my girls and I use her recipe and have made our own tradition of baking Grandma's cookies on Christmas Eve.
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