"Subscribing" vs. "Following"

I'm relatively new to the Land of Blogging, and through much laughter, hysteria, frustration, tears, and assistance from friends, I finally figured out the answer to the Age Old Question: To Follow or To Subscribe?

Those of you who are newbies might also appreciate the discovery I have made. However, if you're not so new to blogging (either blogging yourself or reading other peoples'), you probably already know this information and might want to skip to a different entry. ;-)

It turns out that "Following" is about having just that... a following. That is, it is a sort of record of people who have been to your blog, probably read something, and then clicked on a link allowing them to be "Followers." It does not necessarily mean that they read it every day or that they will get automatic updates when you post something new. It's akin to "Like"ing something on Facebook. It shows that you've been there, that you like something about it, and want to show your support. "Following" is another way of saying "I like what you're doing here, I support you. Go You!" This is fine, and does have its place, but not with the sort of blog that I'm attempting to have.

"Subscribing," on the other hand, is about being intimate with the content of the blog. Since this blog is personal and private, I won't be broadcasting when I post something new. The only way my readers (something else entirely which I'll get to in a second) will know if I've posted something new (since, as previously mentioned, I won't be broadcasting that fact via Facebook or the like) is to go check the blog or check their Google Homepage. Both seemed tedious, and since I write things that I want my close people to actually read, I set about finding a way to solve the problem. 

Adding the "Subscription" aspect solves that. It took awhile for me to get all the kinks out (Thanks SW, SS, and JL!!!!), but if you subscribe via the little box to the right --->, the site will automatically send an email to you alerting you that there's new content. That way, you don't have to randomly go check to see if I've added something. It will also give you a preview of the post and you can decide for yourself if you're interested in reading more about it if and when you have the time.

Having "Followers" for my blog doesn't make sense because I'm not trying to track the number of people who support me or trying to gain a fan club of sorts. It also doesn't make sense because my blog requires being a Reader (further info coming soon!). I simply didn't think that having that option was a good fit for me. (Sorry if you'd already signed up and notice that it's now removed!)

Now, becoming a "Reader" is something different entirely. Some peoples' blogs are public. It's a site that everyone can go to. Like Yahoo.com or CNN.com, etc. Anyone with an internet connection and a computer can visit those blogs. Mine is not like that. Mine is set up to only allow a select group of people to view it. Other people can type the name into their address bar, but it won't allow them to view the material because it's blocked. To overcome this (which you already have if you're reading this right now) is to become a "Reader." 

I simply type in your email address to my settings, and once you create a Google account (if you didn't already have one), you are allowed to view it. I am allowed to have up to 100 "Readers" view my blog. I don't think I have nearly that many friends and family that I desire to share my information with, so that's plenty! Another thing I want to make note of is that I haven't automatically added anyone (well, except Seth, I think). I have waited for people (even my best friends) to either make a direct comment about their desire to read it or hint around about it in such a way as to make me think that they want to read it.

I'm not blogging so that I become famous. I'm not doing it because I'm assuming myself to be an expert at some particular topic. I'm not doing it because I think myself "so cool" that people want to read what I have to say. (Even if I do think I'm pretty cool...) I'm blogging because I love to write and this is an easy creative outlet for me: it's free, doesn't take very much time, and is another way for me to share my life with those most closely invested in my life.

If you are reading this, it means you have become a "Reader." But, the question is, Have you become a "Subscriber?" I highly recommend doing it. It's SO much simpler on your end. You won't ever have to wonder if you've missed something.... I wish all blogs I like to read had this option!

The Next Michael Phelps?

I don't remember a summer, growing up, during which I didn't take swimming lessons. My mom says I was in lessons before I could walk. I don't remember those specifically, but I do remember going all the way to the top level, and I regret not taking the life guard certification class. Still to this day, I wish I had done that.  I wonder how good I could have been if my school had a swim team. I wonder if swimming would have been 'my sport.'

I'm not sure if the lessons were important to my parents because we lived on a river or what, but the importance they placed on them has now been instilled in me, and I want my children to take lessons all the way to the top. (Especially since we're active members in our community pool and we make several trips to the Seth's uncle's house (on Granbury lake) every summer.) 

I want Austin (and any other future children) to be able to develop a healthy respect of water. I want him to understand that if it's not respected, it can be deadly. But I also want him to have as much fun as that body of water will allow. I want him jumping in off the side of the pool (or from the boat into the lake). I want him to ski. I want him to pick toys off the bottom. I want him to use goggles and hold his breath. I want him to love the water! But, I also want him to be safe.

So, we've enrolled Austin in lessons at Emler Swim School. Here's a link. He's in the first level of Waterbabies. The goal for this first level is to develop 8-10 seconds of breath control under water. ! There are several levels, and the first couple involve me getting in the water and doing things with him, but eventually, starting at like age two, they'll be guided by the teacher to independently move 7-10 feet through the water. When I first read that on the website, I thought that seemed like a bit of a stretch, but after going to the facility several times, I've seen tiny kids doing exactly that!

We haven't done more than the orientation and one lesson, but so far he seems to LOVE it. He was splashing and smiling and generally having fun. One of the exercises is to hold him by the head, backwards, so he's floating on his back with his ears in the water. I thought he'd throw a fit, but he just looked up at me and smiled. He didn't yet go fully under the water. We practiced the activities, all while keeping his head above water. They take it in second increments, so at his next lesson he'll go under for one second, then two seconds, etc.

He was the youngest in his class, but did all the activities with the least fussing and with the most smiling. The teacher applauded him when we left and said that she's excited to have him back next time. It felt so good to have his teacher be proud of him, and it gave me a glimpse of the future: of being proud of him in future situations. 

He was so into it and was so happy, I think he might just be 'a swimmer.' Maybe we're raising the next Michael Phelps?

A Wellness Lesson?

I broke my foot at my wedding.

As best as I can tell, that's when it all began. 3 years and 8 months ago, my lesson in wellness (for lack of anything better to call it) started. And it wasn't a lesson I began by choice.

So, I wish there was an awesome story to go along with my broken foot, but there isn't really. There wasn't some death-defying activity involved, just a fabulous night spent dancing with my closest family and friends. While wearing a very heavy wedding dress. (I must pause to say how awesome I still think my dress was. Lace and beading all over, and tons of tulle and a HUGE train.) Anyways, I danced every single dance at my wedding... the polkas, the chicken dance, the cupid shuffle, the swing ones, the slow ones, the fast ones. Everything. And doing that, even though I was wearing black & white peddle pusher-like dancing shoes, in my heavy dress was too much for that tiny bone in my (rather small) foot.

I didn't even notice anything until the next day when we were getting ready to go to the brunch. I couldn't put weight on my left foot. I thought then (which now seems ridiculous) that it must have just been a tight tendon or something, so I passed on my cute heels and opted for flip flops, but was still hobbling around all day. (What makes this part of the story even "better" is that we honeymooned in the Smokey Mountains, and since I thought it was just a tight tendon, I thought taking hikes--of like 8 miles--would do me some good. I couldn't understand why it didn't make it hurt less, but rather more. <total forehead slapping moment 3 years later>)

When two months later I was still unable to go running because of foot pain, I decided to go to my Dr. She immediately referred me to a specialist, they took an x-ray, and came in with a boot. It was broken. I was to wear the boot for 6-8 weeks. Ugh. But that's not even the worst part! The worst part is that because I had been so delinquent in my going to the doctor, my hiking, and all the repeated attempts at running, I had caused permanent damage to my foot. I would likely never be able to wear heels as comfortably as before, and most likely, the doctor said, my running days were over. (I should clarify that I was never really 'a runner', but a 'half jog/half run/half walker.")

And then it was winter.

And then we were both (suddenly) unemployed.

And then my husband was out of town 4 days of 7, and I spent most evenings alone.

And then it was winter.

And then we moved to TX, and I cried out of sadness multiple times each day.

And then I was unemployed for 4 months.

And then my appendages started falling asleep.

You know, when you lose feeling and then the 'pins and needles' start? Well, I'd wake up most every night, in the middle of the night, with something having fallen asleep. It was painful and annoying. And, though this wasn't the first of odd things happening, it was definitely the most noticeable.

And then I gave up all junk food for Lent. And GAINED weight. It was at this point, because we finally had medical insurance again, that I went to the doctor. After loads of testing, they finally figured out there was something up with my thyroid. Among other things, most of which have been previously documented, deal also the c-word, but in other parts of my body, but aren't specifically related to this story, my thyroid was enlarged and had a 'nodule.' After several tests, they determined it wasn't cancer, but that I needed to be on medication to reduce its size and hopefully lose the nodule.

After 11 months of working with one particular doctor (whose office I left crying every time because of her and her staff's rudeness), I switched to a new one. (Seth was quite convinced I needed a new one, the tears being only half the problems I'd had with them. <another forehead slapping moment all these years later> I should have switched MUCH sooner.) I continued to gain weight the entire 11 months, because though I was trying to live a healthy, active life, if your metabolism isn't working, you have a huge uphill battle to fight, and I wasn't able to overcome that.

During this time, I had met with about 5 different specialists (for all the variety of things going on with me), given up all added hormones to my body, done loads of food allergy testing, done elimination diets for the better part of 4 months, and met with my naturopath every couple weeks to monitor progress. And yet, still, the pounds kept coming, and I kept having these weird things (appendages falling asleep, etc) happening.

After meeting for the first time with my new doctor, she switched my medicine around, was convinced that she could get things corrected fairly quickly, and stated she didn't understand why my previous doctor had been unable to. Neither did I. I went back three months later for my physical and to check how my thyroid was responding, hopeful that it would be under control, or nearly under control, and that I would then be able to start losing the weight I'd gained. And that's when I got the news.

I was pregnant. Pregnancy for me meant being sea sick 24/7. The only thing that made me feel remotely human was lying horizontal with my eyes closed. I couldn't bend over, I couldn't walk, I couldn't watch tv, and I certainly couldn't read (which, for this avid reader was life-altering. Plus, the thing I normally do when I have to just lay around, I couldn't do. I didn't know myself.) I did nothing but lie flat for the better part of 9 months, just wishing the queasiness would subside. I didn't eat very much (who wants to eat when you feel sea sick?), but I was also extremely inactive. For the first time in years, I actually lost weight. That didn't last long though, because towards the end of the third trimester I started to feel less sea sick, and started eating again, but the heartburn and hugeness caused me to continue to be inactive. Overall, I gained a reasonable, relatively small amount of weight while pregnant. (But that's not much consolation to me as I'd already been adding pounds for years, and any more just felt like a death sentence.)

But, since giving birth (7 months ago!), I've had the most-varied, most worst-luck health-wise. I have had: a sinus infection (actually had it when Austin was born, and it took several weeks to go away), two root canals, a crown, an allergic reaction to penicillin (which was new to me, I'd been pumped with it while in labor, so this reaction, on Christmas, was a total shocker and a bummer), severe food poisoning, an ear infection, an unexplainable rash covering both arms, several bouts of vertigo, a bum hip, another sinus infection, stomach flu, two rounds of different types of allergy testing, and most recently have sprained my ankle. I honestly don't think I have had a string of 7 days where I've felt healthy/been uninjured more than twice in the last 7 months. Seriously.

And so, the pounds have continued to add on. I haven't worn my wedding ring for over a year and half. The thought disgusts me. And now, I'm looking at the calendar... I'm looking at the fact that I'm going home in 3 weeks for the first time since August of 2008 (for Heather's wedding), and I'll be approximately 50 pounds heavier. I guess part of the reason I'm even writing this note is to tell everyone back home in advance so I don't have to see the shock on their faces when I see them for the first time. I'm sure that people who see me on a regular basis (i.e. TX folk) have noticed too, but that's been more gradual, and thankfully, no one has said anything.

But the biggest reason I'm writing this is to ask for support, love, encouragement, and most of all, prayer. I just want to be healthy. I want to not be sick, not be injured, and not feel dizzy (vertigo) or queasy so that I can again be the healthy, active person I am. Inside. Underneath all this extra weight. I want to go on walks with my family and enjoy it. I want to not be hot all the time. I want to get on the floor and play with my son and not struggle to get back up again. It's embarrassing. Embarrassing and gross. I hate what the mirror shows me. And I hate how this weight has affected what's on the inside as well. I'm not the same person I used to be. My personality has been affected. That's the worst.

So, back-home folks... consider yourself warned.

So, people who love me... pray. I'm ready for this wellness lesson to be over. Please ask God to finish the lesson, give me assistance in regaining health (and fitting into my clothes and ring again), and knowledge about why I've gone through this. What it's all been for, I have no idea. But, whatever it is, I'm ready to take the final and move on. Enough is enough.

The Magic Words

I was recently reading a book about raising your kids to be mindful of manners. It's called Emily Post's The Gift of Good Manners: A Parent's Guide to Raising Respectful, Kind, Considerate Children. I only read the first section as that section stops at 12 months. (I plan to pick it back up in the fall to read the next section, starting at 13 months.) I LOVED it. Now, of course, I do have 'a thing' for manners, etiquette, and all things Emily Post, so it's possible that I enjoyed the book more than you would, but anyways, that's not what I'm writing about.

In one of the chapters, it encouraged using the "Magic Words" when speaking to your children, even before they can speak themselves, because it'll become habit for you and likely will for them when they do get to speaking. Well, even though I have a thing for etiquette, I didn't immediately know what the authors were referring to. I had to use the paragraph's context to understand what they were encouraging me to do. I was like "oh! saying 'please' and 'thank you!' <insert forehead smack>"

I recently coordinated a community-wide weekend of yard sales for Park Forest (my neighborhood), and well, ....perhaps I need to give some background... I used to be involved in my neighborhood's community organization as Secretary and Event Coordinator (it was kinda like an HOA, but voluntary, and not about rule-setting, but community-building). The President then moved and the Treasurer resigned (unrelated incidents), and that left the organization hanging by a thread. Me. So, after much time and many requests for help, I changed the bank accounts, changed websites (created my first one!) and email accounts. Everything is now solely in my hands. That fact is something that I don't exactly mind, I mean, I took it on of my own free will, but it does get tiring sometimes.

Eventually I decided that we needed to have some sort of event, and figured that something that allowed people to be involved at their comfort level is how we should go. I created a survey and a community-wide weekend of sales was determined (by the neighborhood at large) to be a good idea. I moved forward. I created flyers (and recruited help to deliver them to all 250 homes!), posted it on our website, emailed about it, had a friend post it on Craigslist, and then sat back to watch it happen. A lot of people participated, and I'd say overall the event was a huge success for our first attempt. And then I got the email.

A Park Forest resident emailed me the details of her sale, that she had decided to not do one herself again next year, but that she hopes we do it as a community again as she'd like to participate instead as a buyer. And then she wrote: "...so I hope this becomes a yearly success. Thanks for all your efforts." I must have read that last line 30 times! I just kept looking at it over and over and over again. It made me teary-eyed. I hadn't set out to do this for the thanks or 'reward' in it. I had done it because building neighborly-ness in my community is one of my biggest passions. I almost felt as if I was doing it more for myself than for others. It felt almost selfish! And yet, here in this email, this woman (whom I've never met) was melting my heart by one simple line: Thanks for all your efforts.

I wrote her back and said that I sincerely appreciated her thanks, and that while unnecessary, they were really appreciated. Her reply was again short and sweet "I don't know why people don't say it more often." Seriously, that was her entire email. She didn't address me, she didn't sign her name, nothing. Just those words. And, yet, again, I can't stop re-reading the email, and it's been heavy on my heart all day. She implies a good question, I think... Why don't we say/write it more often? I mean, how long did it take her? 5 seconds? This woman doesn't know me (and I don't know her), and yet, by writing 5 little words to me, she's made my week!

I guess they really are Magic Words.

Question Your Own Decisions, Not Someone Else's

It seems like people feel it's ok to question someone's decision. I'm not sure why, but it sure seems like it's happening a lot lately--to me, to friends, to family. Almost as if it's increasing in prevalence.

I mean, if someone decides to quit their job, sell their house, go on a vacation, buy a new car, that's up to them. Why question them in such a way as to seem condescending? Saying something like "Why did you buy THAT car?" makes it sound like: "You're an idiot to have bought that specific car. Dummy." If what you ask, instead, is something like "Oh, that's interesting, I'm not familiar with that car, can you tell me more about it?" says: "I'm interested in knowing more about your decision, not judging you for your decision."

It seems to me that asking these sorts of questions, questions that may potentially help you in making a similar decision (such as you're in the market for a new car as well) are nice, friendly, fellowship-building, even potentially helpful. If my just having bought a specific car makes you think about your own car needs, I'm happy to share with you about why I bought what I did (a 2012 Mazda5, for the record). But, if you're going to grill me about it and then leave having decided I made the wrong choice, well, I'd rather not chat with you about it. I don't need any judgement from you, thank you very much. And besides, who bought the car: you or me?

And if I start out telling you that I just got a new car by prefacing it with the fact that I've been crying for a week because I'm going to miss my old one, and the reasons why I'm going to miss it, but that I'm excited because the new car has x, y, z, well... shouldn't your response be something like "Yes, I see that it has x, and it seems perfect for you! I'm happy you're happy." I emailed our family about our new car, and the best response was my SIL's. Simple and sweet: "Happy for you. :-)" That's all I wanted to hear. I want people in my life to be happy that I am happy. (And, if the occasion should ever present itself, to mourn when I mourn.) I'm making decisions within my family for my family, not yours. If it's not what you would do, then, well, good. Don't do it. Doesn't matter to me what you do within/for your family.

And if my husband and I decide to take a particular vacation and you say: "Why are you going on THAT vacation?" ... well, again, it screams judgement. How about something like "Tell me why you decided on that particular vacation."? I'll then be under the assumption that you're interested in knowing more about me, my decision, my family than about deciding for yourself whether you think it's the right choice for me. I welcome opportunities to get to know one another better, but let's be respectful while we're at it! Because, whose vacation is it: yours or mine?

Lastly, if you're close enough to be on the 'need to know' list, then you probably already know why they chose to do/have done/are whatever it is you're questioning them about. Why feel the need to ask them detailed questions? Is it any of your business? Some things can be seriously sensitive subjects, so let's respect each other and not ask a million questions about it. Be happy that they're happy. You questioning why they're going on a vacation, or how many kids they do or don't have seems incredibly rude to me. Why do you care where I go on vacation!? What if someone's infertile, and their hearts have been breaking for years over this issue? You off-handly asking "So, when ya gonna have kids?" might just be a dagger to their heart! I have a friend who'd I'd like to ask this particular question, but I bite my tongue literally every time I see her, because how do I know she's not been trying for forever? Last thing I need to do is make it worse. And besides, it's her family, not mine. I'm happy if they're happy.

As most people know, Austin was our awesome accident. Awesome, yet an accident. We couldn't love him more or love our new life more, but when we first found out, "Congrats!!!" was NOT the word we wanted to hear. I had one person ask how long we'd been trying. I responded we weren't. "Oh, not trying, but not NOT trying, right?" I then decided to prove a point by going into detail about how we were in fact still preventing, but that our chosen method of prevention failed. I'm not sure my point was made, but I felt like shouting at this person! If you don't know me well enough to know the particulars going on in my life, then why do you feel like you have the right to ask me about the details? And then to show judgment about that? Seriously. Do we need to go back to "If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all." combined with "Think before you speak." combined with "It's none of your beeswax."?

I'm not saying I have it all figured out or do this 'right.' I mean, I have thought about the correct way to respond to someone when they announce they're pregnant (given my own experience I've decided Congrats! isn't the way for me), and I still lack a solution that seems 'good enough.' A good friend responded "REALLY!?" when we told her, and this spoke volumes, and is probably the response I remember the most because it conveyed that she was sensitive to our situation (knowing we probably weren't all that happy about it. we weren't), and that she was shocked and excited and in the moment with us. It might have seemed rude to outsiders, but it was perfect for me. Exactly what I needed to hear. One person responded "Ok, so what are you experiencing right this minute?" Also perfect. I think the answer to the question I've been asking myself is that there is no one-size-fits-all answer. If you don't know the person well enough to know how they want you to respond to their news (vacation, new car, baby, etc), then what makes you think it's ok to ask a million questions about it? Why not just simply smile and tell them that you're happy if they're happy?

The old me. The new me.