Showing posts with label Britney Spears. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Britney Spears. Show all posts

Sunday, August 16, 2009

FAQ with myself



So, how's the blog thing going?
Love it. It's just slightly less addictive than drugs. Not that I would know anything about drugs. We saw the movie Julie and Julia tonight. It's about the wonderful writer Julie Powell and her year of making every single recipe in Julia Child's Mastering The Art of French Cooking. She did a blog about it, and suddenly, I was newly inspired to blog. And kinda-sorta inspired to start cooking, too, although blogging seems so much easier than French cooking. I've messed up hardboiled eggs and, sadly, I am not joking.

Do I really write posts so late at night?
Yup. It's the only time I have. Once in a while, I set them to go up at a certain time, to keep things consistent. Just in case, you know, there are people who are sitting by their computers at 12:22 a.m. breathlessly awaiting my latest post.

Do I write all of my own posts?
Of course, although Britney Spears has ghostwritten a few.

What's the hardest part about doing a blog?
Wondering who's reading it. I have a bunch of readers and not nearly as many commenters (hi, lurkers!). Comments make you feel like you're not blogging into the void. The other hard part of blogging is resisting impulses to joke about my mother-in-law, though I've done a pretty good job of holding back.

Am I really as upbeat as I seem?
Not quite, which is why I use Blogger's "Personality Plus!" widget. It automatically infuses my blog with humor and optimism and jokes about my mother-in-law, which I have to go back and delete.

What's kinda disappointing about blogging?
Feeling like parents of typical kids ignore this blog. And not hearing from Britney Spears.

Is Max really doing as well as I make it seem on this blog?
Pretty much. I mean, listen, the boy has cerebral palsy. His right hand? He doesn't use it that much. It's a struggle for him to articulate words. He can't chew solids so well. He's not yet potty-trained. He drools. These are the realities of his condition. But look at him. He walks. He communicates. He is bright. He is determined. He defies the doomsaying doctors at the NICU every single day of his existence. Actually, every single minute.

Why does my husband so rarely comment on this blog?
That is an excellent question, if I do say so myself. Dave?

Are my kids as cute in person as they appear in photos?
OMG! Y-E-S!!!!!!!

What's my favorite post?
Probably A Bill of Rights For Parents of Kids With Special Needs. And the post where I offered my mother-in-law as a giveaway, although nobody took her.

What scares me about blogging?
That someday, Max will go back and read these posts and feel that I invaded his privacy. That said, if he gets to the point where he is able to read, and he is able to use his hands well enough so that he can physically isolate his middle finger and give me the finger for violating his privacy, I will be the happiest girl in the world.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

I think this blog has multiple personality disorder



One day, I'm telling all of you that I don't feel like what happened to Max is a tragedy and how much he—and Britney Spears— amaze me. The next, I'm talking about sobbing at the train station over him. Which is what happened tonight.

I had a jam-packed day at work, stayed late and by the time I headed home, the kids were already asleep. So, yeah, I wasn't in the most cheerful of moods. As I got off the train, I heard a kid yell, "DAAAADDDDY!" and then I saw a little boy, Max's age, dash into his father's arms and hug him.

I just lost it right there. Literally burst into tears, covered my face with a hand and walked briskly to the car.

It was a deep-rooted pang of despair that Max isn't that little boy who can so clearly say "Daddy," that Max isn't that little boy who can so easily run to his father, that Max isn't that little boy who can throw his arms wide open for a hug.

The feeling passed in a couple of minutes; by the time I was driving home, I was fine. Things just hit me sometimes. And then I go back to being my usual upbeat self.

I guess it's part of the deal of having a kid with special needs. You know?

Coming up tomorrow: How I won my battle with the insurance company and got them to pay for a hot tub!

* OK, I didn't get the hot tub. This blog may also suffer from delusional disorder.

** Please direct any complaints about making fun of people with multiple personality or delusional disorder to Sabrina.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Just a babe with a kid who has special needs



I've had one thing on my mind since BlogHer, and it's not BRITNEY SPEARS (if you're wondering what the heck I'm talking about, you clearly didn't read my BlogHer opus yesterday). I'm talking about a question that any mom of a kid with special needs has to grapple with at some point:

How do I want people to react when they hear that I have a kid with disabilities?

You'd think that having been Max's mom for six and a half years now, I would have come to terms with how I'd like people to respond. I hadn't, but then I had to contend with the conversation so many times in a row at the BlogHer conference that it really got me thinking (I've been known to do that on occasion).

When I talked with other mom bloggers, sometimes it came up that Max has special needs/cerebral palsy. Or I brought it up. Either way, the typical response was for the other person to look at me with mournful eyes and said, "I'm sorry."

Now, granted, this wouldn't be half as bad if they said, "I am sorry, but he is lucky to have a babe of a mom like yourself, who does your hair?" or "I am sorry, you deserve a $500 gift certificate to a spa, I just happen to have one here in my purse, it's yours!"

No, more often than not I'd get The Sympathy Stare.

It bothers me because, though I understand that people mean well and some don't know how to respond, they're treating the fact that Max has special needs like it's some tragedy. It bothers me because it instantly creates a divide between me and the mom I'm talking with. Her: Mom of typical kid. Me: Not. And then, suddenly, I am feeling just a little sorry for myself. And I don't want to. Why should I? Max is doing amazingly well. And, I'm a babe.

I have decided that the reaction I like best is NO reaction. No sympathy. No "I'm sorry." No sad eyes. Let's just keep talking. You can definitely ask how Max is doing. You can definitely join me in musing over the fact that, yes, it's bizarre that a baby had a stroke. You can definitely comment on how handsome he is.

And you can definitely, of course, acknowledge that I'm a babe.

Photo by Southgater

Monday, July 27, 2009

Adventures at BlogHer, part 2



Word on the street was, BlogHer can get pretty wild. As always, I am considerate of your time, so let me just say right here that I did not get wasted, party naked, do karaoke, post naked pictures of myself online or anything like that. I did type a portion of this post naked. Does that count?

Yes, I was an utter and complete failure in the hedonism department. I didn’t even take a single nap, despite the fact that having the king-size bed all to myself was one of my favorite things about the conference (maid service was a close second). Mostly, I crammed in sessions and chatted with lots of web experts and (duh) bloggers. Cue “It’s A Small World After All”: I bumped into one ex coworker (hi, Cathy—check out her helpful family fitness blog, Mayberry Mom), one woman I went to high school with who’s now a web genius (hi, Deb), one woman I went to college with (Missy, who writes the supersmart Women and Hollywood), and one friend of a friend, Melissa of Single Gal In The City who is lovely, anyone know a nice single guy in NYC?

I also met some influential people.



I really wanted to meet other moms of kids with special needs, but unfortunately, when I checked in nobody told me that I'd have a chance to find some at a "Birds of a Feather" lunch, so I missed the opportunity. That's the one complaint I had about the event: I felt like I wasn't filled in enough at registration on navigating it.

Overall, the conference was incredibly interesting, a lot to absorb. I didn’t make it to “Vaginally Challenged Bloggers: The Men of BlogHer” session and I wimped out on scary-sounding ones like “Hacking, Mash-Ups and Other Rebel Coding” (what the heck is a mash-up?). But I did go to a bunch, including “MommyBlogging: Have You Found Your MommyBlogging Tribe?” (that would be you people), “Make Your Blog More Accessible” and “Dying is Easy, ROTFLMAO Comedy is Hard,” with a panel of humor bloggers who actually were funny in person, too. I sat next to Marinka of Motherhood in NYC, who made me laugh.

Here’s what a panel looks like.



Note, none of them were naked.

There was a good group of speakers and participants, including the brilliant Tina Brown of The Daily Beast, Paula Deen, if she's your type of cook, and Tim Gunn, if he's your type of guy (women were lining up/hyperventilating). My favorite thing was the awesome keynote address, where 20 select bloggers read from their posts. It was held in a humongous ballroom that almost made me feel like I was attending a fancy wedding except people were speaking about things like tampons and sperm.



Some posts were funny, some made me bawl, and all were really inspiring. Tanis from Redneck Mommy had strong words to say about the stigma attached to having a disability; Melissa from Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters recalled the day she and her husband were at the infertility clinic and he had to make a “donation"; Danielle from Knotty Yarn wrote about a tampon she thought had gone AWOL...inside her; Wendi of Wendi Aarons ranted and raved about Diet Coke's identity crisis; and Catherine of Her Bad Mother revealed a shocking family secret.

Random list of things I learned at the conference:
• This may fall into the “duh!” category for some of you, but Twitter’s key for getting people to know about your blog. Having a TweetDeck is evidently helpful. I’m going to get me one as soon as I find out what it is.
• Adwordskeywords tells you how popular words are in search engines, helpful for growing your traffic. However, it is not wise to put words like, say, Britney Spears into a post or in the HTML if you are writing about, say, your child's physical therapy session or the passing of your great aunt. Readers and Google will be onto you.
• StumbleUpon and Kirtsy are your friends (they’re Internet communities with user-contributed web content). It’s better not to put up your own posts (so feel free to Kirtsy and Stumble any posts of mine that you like by clicking the "bookmark" button below, this concludes the shameless plug portion of this post).
• WordPress has more plug-ins and other bells and whistles than Blogger. I have been considering switching, but like a lot of things, all I’ve had time to do is think about it. Same goes for solving world peace. And figuring out what BRITNEY SPEARS should do next.
• If, say, a hotel named The Sheraton is supposed to give you a wakeup call and, say, said hotel somehow forgets TWO mornings in a row to give you a wakeup call, it is OK to ask said hotel for a deduction off your bill (but not truly really mind the extra sleep in the very comfy bed I was unfortunately not able to stow away in my luggage, though I really would have liked to).
• It's a good idea to set up a Facebook page for your blog. You know, in your spare time. Unless you are BRITNEY SPEARS and you have a lot of assistants who could help you do that.
• If you are linking to another post don’t just link one word—for example, I love this). Link a phrase: I love this post about a bill of rights for parents of kids with special needs. (Uh, I guess I am not done with the shameless self promotion.) It's easier on readers' eyes and easier for Google to pick up the key words.
• It is not a good idea to eat, like, 12 bags of free potato chips before you go to sleep as you listen to BRITNEY SPEARS.
• If you call home and your husband says that your four-year-old keeps asking for you, you may feel a tiny twinge of satisfaction.
• Picapp has lots of great free photos. And you can find free celebrity images at celebutopia so you no longer have to illegally post them and worry that the web photo police will show up at your home in the middle of the night and arrest you. Even if you have been hanging with BRITNEY SPEARS.
• Bonus travel hint: If you have two carry-on bags (you are only allowed one), you should position one bag so it is basically resting upon your back, then place the other bag in front of it so it looks like you are only carrying one bag even though your shoulder may feel like it is about to fall off, then try to distract the flight attendant who is taking boarding passes by saying something random like, “Hey, I heard they are serving Slurpees on the flight tonight!" or "Hey, is that BRITNEY SPEARS over there?"

In my two days there, I met a lot of fab women including Melissa of Mindless Mommy who's mom to two kids with special needs; bubbly Amy of Pretty Babies; the very wise Annie of PhD in Parenting; charming Caroline, who does animal rescue and who told me she's raised $20,000 for the cause at Romeo The Cat; and Amy, a cool English teacher who writes Teach Mama, a blog about finding learning opportunities in the every day. Oh, shout out to the supercool Nancy Martira, a media specialist at Ketchum who offered to give me a tutorial on Twitter. You are a brave woman. Oh, and shout out to BRITNEY SPEARS as well.

I am not counting the twenty or so women who came up to me and said, "You look familiar!" This happens whenever I'm in a situation where I'm meeting a lot of new people. I don't know what it is about me. I usually say, "Yes, I'm BRITNEY SPEARS" or "Yes, I was recently on America's Most Wanted."

All in all, it was an exhilarating experience. And a wakeup call. Sometimes, I feel a little overwhelmed by the blogosphere—all that I could be doing, all the great stuff out there I don’t have time to get to, all the stuff I have yet to learn, the fact that I have never read BRITNEY SPEARS' blog. I'll leave you with something a panelist said about the blogsphere that was so reassuring: “We’re kind of in the Wild West right now. We’re all making this up as we go along.”

Amen, sister!

Next year, the conference is in New York, my neck of the woods. I was bummed to hear that—no trip. I think I'm going to tell Dave it's in Tahiti and try to sneak away for a week. Nobody tell him.

P.S., the day after I got home, there was a hailstorm. Do you think I have incurred the wrath of God for not getting all crazy at BlogHer? Or for taking the name of BRITNEY SPEARS in vain?


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