Blog Envy

Okay, I have a confession: I have blog envy. What is it with these BIG blogs? You know, the ones with hundreds of followers, the ones that get dozens and dozens, sometimes hundreds, of comments to their every post? Yeah, those. How do they do it? What's so special about them? I mean, in all honesty, I've perused some of them and I don't get it. But I want it. Sort of.

There is one blog that has just recently hit the big time. I think she's actually been blogging for a while, but recently she posted about giving birth to her second child who, as it turns out, has Down syndrome, which they didn't learn about until after the baby was born. That birth story has gone viral. (And if you're reading this, you very likely know exactly which blog I'm talking about - everyone seems to know about that blog now.) Last I checked, and this was a couple weeks ago, she had over 800 comments to that one birth story post!! I mean, it was a lovely, touching, heartfelt, beautifully written account of her daughter's birth . . . but there are a lot of lovely, touching, heartfelt, beautifully written birth stories about babies with Down syndrome, and all kinds of other subjects, on blogs out there. What makes this one so special? Why do each of her posts continue to get upwards of 100 comments? Is it the gorgeous photography? It can't just be the writing or the subject matter, because there are LOTS of blogs out there that are well-written and about the same subject matter (may I direct your attention to Finnian's Journey?)

In other words, what does she have that I don't have?

I know, I know. I sound petulant, like a kid who wants to be in the popular group. That's sort of how I feel. I want to be liked and admired, I admit it! I fancy myself a writer . . . or at least a wannabe writer. I'd like my writing to be noticed and admired. I'd like the things I write about to strike some chord with people.

What I don't want, however, is to be one of those bloggers that tries too hard. Or that is gimmicky. I'm not interested in buying readership by doing giveaways. I don't want to compromise my principles and write to please my audience. I write to please myself - it's an emotional and a creative outlet for me. Being liked and admired for what I write about is a bonus . . . but a bonus that I find myself becoming increasingly fixated on. Why and how do some blogs draw such large audiences? And how can I do that without selling out?

Or maybe that's not really what I want at all. I dunno.

Can't Quit Starbucks

. . . no matter how hard I try.

I've been enjoying a cafe mocha from Starbucks pretty much every morning for the last . . . let's see . . . fourteen, fifteen years. When I think about it rationally, I realize what a spectacular amount of money I have spent on what amounts to hot cocoa with coffee in it over that period of time. But I just can't seem to quit it.

A few years ago, I bought an espresso machine, determined to kick my Starbucks habit. I bought Starbucks espresso beans, Starbucks mocha powder, but no matter how much I tried, I could never duplicate the real deal. So the machine collected dust on the counter-top for about a year before I finally surrendered and put it away in a closet.

I've tried other places as they've popped up in the neighborhood:

Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf -

I got a mocha from here once. It was awful. I couldn't even finish it. Tasted like it had fake sweetener in it, like saccharine or something. Bad aftertaste. Blech.

Peet's -

Their iced mochas are pretty good, but the hot ones I've had are bland, like they forgot to add the chocolate or something. Tasted like steamed milk with espresso in it (isn't that a latte or something?).

Tully's -

Just opened up in the location where my beloved Starbucks was until a couple months ago. I resisted trying their mocha on principle. Michael finally convinced me to try it, and it was actually pretty good. I mean, it's no Starbucks mocha, but it was fine. Plus, it's closer to my house than the Starbucks I've been going to since the old one shut down, and it's 25 cents cheaper a cup.

So have I made the switch?

Nope. Can't do it. I mean, Tully's'll do in a pinch, but I just can't bring myself to jump ship altogether. I clearly have loyalty issues. Fifteen years, people! And several of the girls from the old Starbucks moved to another location (which is where I drive every morning), and they know me by name . . . and they often start my coffee when they see my truck pull up and have it waiting for me by the time I get inside . . . and they give Lilah stickers and little mini Starbucks cups so she can go home and play Barista with her sisters.

How can I give that up?

Nope, I'll stick with Starbucks. Even if it bankrupts us.

Roughin' it

I will say up front that I am a girl who likes her modern conveniences. Take electricity, for instance. Very convenient to have. Very inconvenient to not have.

I am convinced that our particular house is located on the weakest power grid in the city, or at least the neighborhood. I have lost count how many power outages we've had in the five years we've lived here. Heavy rains and strong winds are two weather conditions that are pretty much guaranteed to knock our power out, but there have been plenty of instances when it went out and the cause was a mystery. And often when our power goes out, we can see that the houses across the street from us are nonetheless enjoying their lights and televisions and whatnot.

This afternoon our power went out, and was out for five (freakin') hours. I heard through the grapevine that there was a car accident several blocks away which resulted in a downed power line. And of course, OUR house was affected. The neighbors across the street? They had power. They were virtually flaunting their power! Some of my Facebook friends who are also neighbors informed me that their power was out for a few minutes - one said an hour. Ours, though? FIVE hours. Try occupying six kids with no television lights by which to do educational flashcards.

The first couple of hours weren't too bad, since it was still light out. But as it grew increasingly darker, the beasts grew increasingly more whiney and bickerish (like that? I just made up that word on the spot). So I turned it into an adventure.

Bath by lantern light was a big hit (but rather in pain in the rear).

I couldn't cook dinner due to the power outage, so I ran out and brought takeout home and we ate by lantern. This was also a big hit, and declared by the girls as "THE BEST DINNER EVER!!"

And Finn had ambience for his dinner.

Fortunately, the power finally came back on as bedtime was quickly approaching. I can guarantee that we never would have gotten these scaredy cats into bed without their trusty nightlights.

Mercurial

Ahhh, the teenage years. Are there any other words that conjure up such dread in the hearts of parents? We are knee-deep in teenage moodiness, attitude, and smart-mouthedness.

Don't get me wrong. Kevin is a good kid. A great kid. He doesn't get into any trouble, he does well in school, he's very loving and tolerant of his siblings, and he seems to have a pretty strong sense of right and wrong. But man, oh man, can he cop an attitude.

Did you know that once your child hits the magic 13, everything must go exactly their way? Did you further know that you should never say "no" to your teenage child? Did you also know that you should never look a teenager directly in the eyes, as they interpret it as a challenge and may attack? Plentiful eye-rolling and lots of "What?!? That's not fair!" and "Okay, fine!" in a shrieky voice ensues during adolescence, as well. And door-slamming. And stomping.

Oy.

I keep reminding myself of how it felt to be 13. I very much remember how difficult - impossible at times - it was to harness and control my confusing emotions at that age. I try to keep this in mind, but it's hard to excuse some of Kevin's rudeness and disrespectfulness even while I try to have compassion and empathy for what he's going through. Today, after he told Michael to "Mind your own business!" and then stomped off, took his anger and frustration out on everyone in his path, and then slammed his bedroom door, I stormed into his room and said what parents around the world say to their teenagers: "YOU'RE GROUNDED!!!"

Contemplative

It's been a quiet week here on the ol' blog. In real life, things are busier than ever with the kids in piano lessons, drum lessons, dance, and now baseball - on top of the ever-present homework. Still, I've been in a contemplative frame of mind. Pondering. Reflecting. Evaluating relationships. Wondering where we go from here.

I'm reading this book, Between Me and the River, by Carrie Host. I'll review it on Book Lust when I finish it, but I'll just say here that it's a memoir about the author's experience with a rare and incurable form of cancer.

A line in the book stood out to me when I read it the other night:

"It is getting to be a lot of work to hurry up and get through all of this so that you can get back to all of that."

I know I spent the bulk of 2009 wishing the year away. Never in my life had I ever before wanted so desperately for time to go by quickly so that we could get to the other side of Michael's cancer. And now, here we are, on the other side. And the big question is: What now?

Because in many ways, that old life that I wanted so urgently to get back to doesn't exist anymore. We are changed. Grateful, exhausted, wary, and scarred. The healing continues, and I am finding that it may be a life-long process. It's somewhat of a struggle trying to figure out what it all means: what wisdom can we take away from that horrendous experience? What truly matters the most in life, and how can it be honored? Where do we go from here?

And as I ponder all this, I'm trying to be a better person. A better friend, wife, and mother. I'm making an effort to make sure the people I love know how important they are to me. I'm trying to take deep breaths before I yell, and to give more hugs and kisses. I'm trying to improve the quality of the time I spend with my kids - baking cookies, playing games, going to the park. I'm trying to be present, because life is short.

The Mom Phenomenon

Tell me if you recognize this:

I have become fetcher-of-all-things, giver-of-all-things, getter-of-all-things, fulfiller-of-all-requests, and answerer-of-all-questions to my kids. I'm serious. When any of my kids want something, I seem to be their go-to person, no matter how much closer in proximity they happen to be at any given time to Dad. It blows my mind.

Let me give a couple of true-life examples just to illustrate:

Recently, Daisy was sitting at the kitchen table, right next to Daddy. I was across the house in another room. Suddenly I hear, "Mommy! Can I have something to drink?" I ignored her, thinking, well, Michael is sitting right there (he was busy with something, but he was right there, literally inches away from her!). But she persisted. "Mommy! Can I have some juice?" Ignore. Then, "Mommy! I'm thirsty!" I think Michael had said to her, "Hang on a minute," but she ignored him, because apparently it is MY duty to serve her.

Today, just a little while ago, in fact, Kevin pulled a package of tortillas out of the kitchen cupboard. Michael was standing right next to him. Right next to him! I was across the room, feeding the baby. Kevin says, "Mom? Are these tortillas still good?"

WTF?

This kind of thing happens all the time. Michael would argue my assertion that it happens all the time, but I've been pointing out these incidents to him, to which he responds with, "They love you! Doesn't it feel nice to be needed?" Um, sure. Right. I guess. Is that what it is? Huh.

And it's not as if Michael doesn't do stuff for the kids. He does! He cooks, he feeds them, he cleans up after them, he plays with them - it's not as if he's an absentee parent. So what is it about me that makes the kids lay their requests and demands at my feet first?

Conspiracy Theory

The twins are in cahoots, I'm sure of it. In fact, I'm pretty sure they've been in cahoots since birth - maybe even since before birth. It's always something with them. I mean, I love them like mad, but I swear . . .

The latest: somebody carved "I love U" into our coffee table today. Okay, the table is trashed anyway, granted. It has 10+ years of mileage on it; it's had more than its share of being pounded on, climbed on, having Hot Wheels driven across it, and so forth. But this was blatant vandalism (even if it is a sweet sentiment). The girls came home from school today, festooned with Valentine's hats and paper sashes and lugging buckets of candy and cards from their kindergarten Valentine's celebration. So I guess they - or, rather, one of them - was carried away by the festive spirit of the whole thing and decided to carve her sentiments into the coffee table for posterity.

Here's where the conspiracy comes into play. When we discovered the carving and demanded to know who did it, what do you think we got in response? "Annabelle did it!" Daisy insisted. "No, Daisy did it!" Annabelle declared. Each stuck with her story. I'm convinced that they set out to create reasonable doubt so that neither would get into trouble.

Smart cookies, those two.