We all put our pants on one leg at a time

They write well. Compellingly so. More importantly they have a knack for sharing just enough about their innermost selves, to reel you in and turn you into a fan.

You read a post, a second post, a third, and soon you've read back all the way through the archives. Then you come back every day to read a little more.

The writing is what makes the "popular" bloggers popular. But they don't call themselves that, we call them that, and for the most part, as far as I've seen, it makes them intensely uncomfortable.

They are not intentionally clique-ish. They just feel awkward surrounded by people gushing and fawning over them. And who wouldn't want to gush and fawn over someone whose blog you read religiously?

I've done it. I've "squeed" in someone's face. I'm mortified to admit it. (And no, I'm not telling you who I did it to.)

The "popular" bloggers have fans, loyal readers, because they put themselves out there every time they write a blog post. They put vulnerable parts of themselves out for the world to see. And it's one thing to do that at home, in your jammies, behind the safety of a computer screen. It's another to be in front of one, ten, fifty people who have read their words and seen right into their souls. Unlike High School where the popular girls craved the attention, I've rarely met a blogger who really wanted to be in the limelight.

They're not complaining. They chose to write like this - to dump, vent, turn pain into poetry. But it's hard to look people in they eye and see that pain reflected there.

So they hide, they keep to themselves, and sometimes they hide together.

That's when you hear others grumble. "The popular bloggers are stand-offish." "They think they're better than us." "They don't have time for the likes of us."

It's not true. It's not what's happening.

They're well known because they write well and without pretense. They strip themselves bare day after day. Then in public they feel vulnerable and exposed. But really, they're no different than me or you. We just know more about them than they do about us.

They're bloggers with the same fears and insecurities. They put their pants on one leg at a time like everyone else.

So next time you see a huddle of "popular" bloggers standing off to the side, take a second before reacting. Remember that they're just like everyone else. Stop and say hi. Make conversation. Later, work that "I love the way you write" into the conversation. Just remember that it could be you who's inapproachable rather than the other way around.

The Secret to Online Success

"Don't ever say you're just a blogger." I said to the room filled with hopeful faces, each waiting for me to deliver the secret to using a blog to land "gigs." "You're so much more than that."

I left it at that, but I should have added one more line.

"But in the end, you're nothing if you don't believe in yourself."

There's a process to succeeding online or anywhere.

First, decide where you want to go. Second, believe you can get there. Third, find and arm yourself with the tools you'll need to arrive.

What. Is. Your. Goal?

Do you know?

Are you writing to just write?

Is your blog an outlet?

Are you launching a media empire?

Are you on the first step to a major writing career?

Fine. It's all fine. The only person who should care about your personal reasons and goals for being online is you. I don't need to know. Frankly, I don't really care.

But you need to know. You need to care.

I see it in people's eyes at blog meet-ups and conferences. They get dazzled by all the other goals and aspirations being flaunted. They start to think "Why don't...?" or worse "I should..." Then the confusion is replaced by jealousy. By envy. 

Other bloggers are more successful. They get more traffic, more props. Some get more love from the PR teams. Some bloggers get wined, dined, and traveled. Some have TV appearances or even book deals.

It's easy to get caught up on the frenzy of the "I shoulds" or worse, the rampant "gimmes," sometimes loosely translated as a simple "I want."

It's hard to remember why you started in the first place.

I find it sad to watch people get lost.

There is no secret to online success. It boils down to two things: Dedication to your goals and staying true to your voice.

You started blogging for a reason. What was it? Have you forgotten along the way? (It's ok if your goal has changed, as long as you're aware and approving of that change.)

You have a unique voice. Do you let it sing?

Family Love Dinner

My husband and I both work outside the home. We rush at the end of the day to pick up our 3 and 5-year-old girls and hurry home, racing all the way. No matter how we cut it, we never make it before 6pm.

Bedtime is at 7:15.

It takes a concerted effort to get the children fed, bathed, in pajamas, teeth brushed, and read to in that short hour and a half. It takes an even greater effort to turn that dinner into a family event.

And yet we do, at least once a week. We hurry home and roll up our sleeves. The girls set the table as best as they can before putting on their over-sized kitchen aprons to help me assemble the pizza – just cheese on one quarter, cheese and basil on another, chicken, cheese, and basil on the rest.

Knowing that children who have dinner with their parents do better in school and suffer from fewer eating disorders is not the impetus behind our weekly tradition. We do it because once our daughter called our family meals “family love dinner.” It’s her favorite meal, making worth the extra hassle on that one weekday.

That's a picture of the girls proudly showing off their pizza. 

The stains on their shirts explain why they now wear aprons.

Yet another trip without the family

In April I went to LA. In June I flew to NY. In August I flew back to NY.

Not one of those trips included my family. In each instance I left my kids at home with my husband.

On Thursday morning I'm leaving again. And again I'm leaving them at home. I'm heading to North Carolina to speak at the awesome TypeA Mom Conference. And while I'm very excited to see my bloggy friends again and to meet new ones, I do have to say a huge part of me is dreading going.

It's not the social anxiety of old. I've come a long way since then.

It's that I'm just tired.

School just started and we're just barely getting into a routine. I only just started catching my breath and getting back to work on the book. And now I'm leaving again. For five days.

It's also that I feel like I got to spend precious little time just enjoying my family this summer. We've had snatches of great family moments, but they were scattered here and there. I'm ready for a family vacation. The four of us. Together. No work. No routines. No school. Just buckets and sand and endless stretches of time to enjoy each other and relax.

That's not happening any time soon. Thursday morning I'm rushing both girls to school before heading home and jumping into a cab. I'm going to head to the airport where I'll once again feel oddly unencumbered as I sail through security, and then I'm going to spend all day on two planes, criss-crossing the country. I'm packing two books, that's how much free time I'm going to have.

Back in April and June I felt giddy at the mere thought of traveling solo. Even the trip in August felt like a treat. This one feels a bit like a business trip.

I think I might even miss the kids on the flight.

It takes time...

By nature writing is solitary work that most often requires quiet or at the most a mild background hubbub. We might not all need to go all Walt Whitman on the world, but it does help to have a few minutes when our brains aren't being bombarded with noises, words, requests, pings, or anything else. When the outside world is shut out the ideas can play together, feed off each other, and finally grow into something interesting or even worth writing down.

I'm always perplexed by novels written by a team of writers. How do they do it? Do they talk out each paragraph? Do they divvy up chapters, each taking one home to work on quietly? I can hash out ideas with people, discuss plot points over a glass of wine or a hot cup of coffee, but when my fingers hit the keys, I need to be alone inside my brain in order to make the words sound right.

For the longest time it was understood that novelists worked alone, as recluses, as long as they needed to hammer out their tales. That was the norm. Writer = slightly loner type who spends countless hours away from the rest of the world. Fine.

Then the Internet was born and Social Media emerged.

Now avid fans look up favorite authors on Twitter and Facebook. They search websites for email addresses. And they get frustrated if they don't find that person online. In today's world, if you're not online, you don't exist. Unless you're Stephen King. He's allowed to be offline. (And even he has a bit of a blog on his website. Not that it's current, but it's there.)

Even worse, agents seem to be looking around online. When they receive a query from a new writer, they want to know about social media presence. And if you don't have one? They send you online to get one.

I started blogging years ago because I was lonely and bored. I kept it up because it was great for my writing. Then I kept going because of relationships forged and because of that persistent fear that one day I'd submit a query and hear back that the book seemed great, but my online presence was too insignificant to make me be considered.

A voice inside my head always whispers "If the book is good enough, no one will care."

Another voice inside my head always replies "But what if they do?"

So I stay online. I blog. I tweet. I facebook. I keep working on my online presence, my social media platform. I gather fans, make sure to be as true to myself as possible. Hope that one day all that time spent will prove to be worth something.

Because that's where the problem lies. It takes time to built a social media platform. It takes time to grow an online following. It takes dedication and time to keep it up day after day. Time that could be spent working on the book. Time that could be spent working on the next one. Time that could be spent polishing the manuscript to get it ready to send out. You cannot be online one week out of the month. One day out of the week. It just doesn't work that way.

And yet, so often it seems like all the Internet provides is noise. Endless distracting noise. It seeps into my brain, filling up the lovely empty space that the ideas like to play in. That the words are best born in.

I wish I had the courage to turn my back on Social Media and all that it holds. I wish I had the self confidence in my work to know that it could stand on it's own and be sufficient in and of itself. But I don't. I need my friends in the computer to keep me going. I need to keep blogging. I need to keep Tweeting and Facebooking. I need to keep reading comments left here, there, everywhere. It gives me confidence to keep going. And some days it makes me feel like I'm still working towards that goal, the published novel, even if I haven't had any time to do more than an hour of editing in the last week.

Full circle - from fiction to reality and back to fiction

It's no secret that I'm a bit of a TV addict. I love working into the night with the TV on to keep me company. Some shows stand out more than others.

Take Castle for example. It's a cop show, always at the top of my list of favorites. But it's also a show about a novelist, which is obviously something I get a kick out of watching. The chemistry between the main characters and the great writing is a bonus.

Now, aside from being an aspiring novelist myself, and a TV addict, I also happen to work in marketing, so I can really appreciate what the creators of the show have cooked up. They took a show about a novelist who writes books based on the cases they crack in the show... and they hired a ghost writer to write the books for real.

The books are published under Richard Castle's name and the geek in me loves the fact that they've created something real from something fake. Only it's ghost written, so it's not really real. Or is it?

Rumor (and Amazon comments) say that the books are actually quite decent. I wouldn't know, I haven't tried them. I'm not sure I even want to, I think I just want to appreciate the perfect marketing circle that has been created here.

 

Make a teacher's dream come true.

Every teacher I have ever met pulls out a personal credit card on a regular basis to purchase classroom supplies. Tissues, crayons, dry erase markers. You name it. They've bought it. They have to, the state doesn't give them enough supplies to last through the year.

The irony here is that the state doesn't exactly pay them a whole bunch either, so it's not like those credit cards can stretch very far in the first place.

Teachers are teaching our children. Our future. Your kids might not be in a public school. Your kids might even be in an affluent school where teachers don't have to make pencils stretch down to the nub. But the kids who are in those classrooms are still our children and they deserve better.

You might not think you can help, but you can.

Classwish.org is a fantastic where teacher can post their classroom wishlist. It's where they can close their eyes and imagine everything they'd have in the ideal classroom. They let their imagination soar... and then they ask for those things. You, me, the guy who bought coffee in front of you this morning, can go and pick a wish to help along. You can pick a classroom, a school, a PTO... and donate something. Could be enough to buy a box of tissues or enough to get that smart board a teacher has been coveting.

If you hear your school debating the merits of various fund-raising options, throw Classwish.org in the mix. It's a great alternative and and easy way for many people to make a huge difference in the lives our children.

In the meantime you can mention Classwish.org to any teachers you know and any parent who might know some teachers. 

And please pass on this blog post to any teacher you might know, to your principal, to the administration and to your parenting organization. There are just two days left to enter the Dream Classroom Giveaway on Fill the Backpack. On Thursday night, the entries will close and 2 winning dreams will be randomly selected as winners. Those two winners will each receive a $500 credit to classwish.org to purchase items to make her dream classroom a reality.

$500 can go a long way in a classroom. So spread the word. Help a teacher achieve a dream.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

The meltdowns in our house this week and last have been epic. Sisters are fighting. Little girls are freaking out right and left. And I have to admit that I've lost my cool on a few mornings. Even M has raised his voice a few times and the man is usually imperturbable.

I've been very focused on helping C get ready for her big transitions - out of daycare and into Kindergarten - that I somewhat forgot that Little L would also be undergoing some serious changes. The child is usually mellow and easy going. She adapts pretty quickly so I've never been as concerned about prepping her and watching for odd or delayed reactions from her. She's like me, pretty easy going and knows how to roll with the punches.

It's possible that these past two weeks have offered up more punches than she's used to rolling with.

First, her big sister left daycare. They've always been in daycare together. Even when C left to go to preschool, Little L would know that she'd be back after nap time. It's not that they ever played together at daycare, it's just that she always knew that her sister was there and now she's not.

Then I changed our morning routine. For two years now we've been taking our sweet time in the morning, getting up and getting ready at a rather mellow pace. Now we have to be up, dressed, fed, hair brushed, and out of the house by 7:45am. I even changed the route we take. Instead of going straight to daycare, we take C to school, drop her off, and then head to daycare.

If that wasn't enough, Little L started school herself last week. She loves school. It's the highlight of her week. She'd go every day if she could. And that's where the problem lies. C gets to go to school every day, Little L only goes Tuesdays and Thursdays. Do you know how hard it is for a 3-year-old to understand that she doesn't get to go every day? Do you know how much time elapses between Thursday and Tuesday? An eternity. That's how long. Or so Little L would have you believe.

In the grand scheme of things none of these changes are massive or insurmountable. In the eyes of a 3-year-old they're pretty big and they're leading to lots of tantrums and outbursts.

I find myself taking lots of deeeeep breaths when she hides, gets petulant, throws a fit, refuses to eat, sleep, or stop whining. She's confused and crabby and she's taking it out on us because we're her safety zone. I know it. M knows it. And we both know that kid gloves work much better in this case than rising voices.

And yet, I hope you'll excuse me when I confess that some mornings, when the stress of getting three people out the door in under 45 minutes rather than two hours gets to me, sometimes I snap. Which ads to the angst and slows us down even more, but come on, I'm only human after all.

Opting to step way off the beaten path

Last Thursday we all attended a new parent orientation at C's new school. The girls went to childcare in the Kindergarten room and M and I went off to meet the rest of the new parents.

I knew when I picked this school that I was opting for something different. This isn't your average school, not by any stretch of the imagination. It's way above average really. Instead of aiming to teach children their 3Rs and everything else you're supposed to pick up in school, they also aim to nurture and develop the kids' sense of self-awareness and kindness.

To put it bluntly it's a school that follows and teaches Buddhist principles.

To put it another way, the school's curriculum is built around teaching kindness and recognizing the good in each other and in the world around us.

I picked this school because I knew the staff would nurture my sensitive child. I picked this school because the early childhood development teacher is an artist and has built art into every aspect of the curriculum. I picked this school because I was blown away by the emotional maturity of the kids I met. I picked this school because everything I saw in the classrooms showed that the level of education the students were receiving was well above average. But most importantly I picked this school because it felt like a new home for C and for the rest of us.

I'm glad to say that the meeting we attended on Thursday has confirmed my first impressions. The staff and the parents were everything I'd hoped and expected them to be - welcoming, smart, funny, truly committed to the school, the students, and the school's mission.

At the same time, the meeting we attended on Thursday confirmed that by opting for this school we are definitely opting to step off the beaten path. This school is different. The teaching methods are different. The way the kids are separated into grades is different. The way the classrooms are managed is different. The way the entire school community is organized is different. Different in a great way in my opinion, but different nonetheless, and it does take some courage to say "we're opting out of test based teaching and everything else the traditional system upholds."

It's a good thing the school is filled with other great people who also had that courage and will help us in case we ever doubt our choice. But for now, we're stepping off that path with our head held high and a grin on our faces. It feels like the right choice.

Wordless Wednesday: Future Firefighter

Ready, set...

(Don't mind the big sister's fingers. 

She didn't quite grasp the epiphany that was about to take place.)

WATER!

Followed shortly after by a quiet 

"Mommy, when I grow up I want to be a fireman."

Happy Wordless Wednesday! 

Maudlin laments about the start of two school years to come later this week I'm sure. You know, once I've processed the enormity of it all, or at least survived the radical schedule change.

Not so little anymore

On Thursday I took Little L for her 3 year check-up. This is the first of the "big girl" check-ups. The one without the baby scale and tape measure. She stepped on the scale and stood up straight and tall to let the nurse measure her. The results astounded me. She however was completely unfazed and went on to ace her eye exam. She skipped off to the exam room where she charmed the socks off the doctor. One no-shot-today happy dance later and we were out of there, medical record sheet for the school in hand.

As I buckled Little L into her car seat I marveled at how big she's gotten. She was talking a mile a minute and for a moment I couldn't see even a glimmer of the baby she used to be.

Her big girl status isn't just being tested by the doctor's office; she starts preschool tomorrow. In the morning I'll pack a change of clothes and some diapers into her brand new Dora backpack and I'll walk her into her classroom. Tomorrow I get to spend the morning with her, but Thursday I'll have to leave her at the door. I'll be leaving her with teachers I don't yet know, but who come highly recommended by people I do know and trust. She already has a friend in the class, and knowing her she'll have ten more by the end of the week.

You'd think I'd weep as I walk away. But I really don't think I will. 

This is going to be an amazing thing for my baby, the one who is already rhyming and learning her letters. She's going to be on her own there, not in her sister's shadow, and she is going to shine. I see glimpses of the preschooler in her when I watch her do crafts - cutting things out with intense concentration. Or when I hear her starting to stand up to her rather bossy older sister, insisting that the game go the way she wants it to for once. And I know that preschool is going to be great for her because it's going to allow her to hone all those skills and develop new ones.

On Thursday she measured a whopping 38 3/4 inches tall -that's a full 2 inches and a quarter taller than her sister was at that age - physical proof that I'm not kidding when I tell my friends that my baby is a monster. Or rather, as the doctor put it, that she looks like a 4-year-old and it's a good thing she speaks and acts like one too.

So, yes, my baby hasn't really been a baby for a while. She's not even a toddler anymore. Tomorrow morning she'll officially become a preschooler and while I'm sad to say goodbye to our infant years, I'm not worried about her in the least. On Thursday when the doors close, I'm going to walk away knowing that she's good and ready for this transition.

Whether I'll ever be ready to stop calling her Little L is a whole other question.