Tag Archives: blogging

Oct
08
2013

Blogger Love: 10 Liebster Award Questions

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liebster_awardSo, here’s the really cool thing about this blog: Just when I thought the only people following it were all the moms living in my small town and my ex-husband, it turns out that at least one other blogger has started reading along. She’s Connie over at “I Suck as a Parent” and she has even gone so far as to nominate me for a Liebster Award, which she likens to the Grammys for bloggers, minus the red carpet.

And while there’s no one winner and it’s more like an ongoing shout out amongst bloggers, it’s pretty cool to be recognized by one of your own. And in a world where some bloggers are busy elbowing their way to the top of the heap, it’s nice to know that other bloggers are willing to share the spotlight with those new to the blogosphere.

But Connie frets about some of her parenting decisions and is a shoe hoarder and counts The Silver Palate as one of the most important books in her library, so how could we not really like each other? She even went to Greece this summer.

The deal is that we nominate our faves and ask them to answer 10 questions and those bloggers in turn make nominations and craft questions.

Herewith, answers to questions posed by I Suck as a Parent:

1.    Why did you start your blog?

While my first impulse is to joke and say I just really like talking about myself, I think I was drawn to blogging because I’ve always been good at telling stories that make people laugh – especially stories about my kids and being a mom. And writing is just something I can do, the way some people can add big numbers in their heads or easily slip into a side split (neither of which can be found in my bag of tricks). But with all that laundry I had to fold and butts that needed wiping, it took me about a decade to get it together and actually make the blog happen.

2. What is your favorite movie?

I love Hobbits and dinosaurs, crying (“Blind Side,” “Out of Africa”), sassy teenage girls (“Juno” “Easy A”) and kitchen porn (anything written or directed by Nancy Meyers but “Something’s Gotta Give” in particular). And the list would not be complete without some shirtless Gos flick (hello, “Crazy, Stupid Love”). Favorite? For purely sentimental reasons, I’d have to say the “Toy Story” trilogy. The movies share the arc of my oldest children’s childhood and the first movie was in heavy rotation on our VHS as my oldest sat and stared, inspired by Woody and terrified of Sid. He and Andy went to college the same year and as I watched the fictional character pack up the stuff of his childhood, it broke my heart that that part of the story had come to an end. Just like mine.

 3.    Where was your last, best vacation?

Blue sky. Hot sun. Salty water. Warm breeze. Crowing roosters. Roaming goats. Seaside villages. Ancient ruins. Pebbly beaches. Endless reading. Flapping sails. Cold beer. Strong coffee. Sweet pastries. Local tavernas. Good company. Lapping water. Starry sky. Greece 2013. Opa.

 4.    Who is your favorite author and why?

Oh, to pick just one is like trying to pick a favorite child. It’s the “Sophie’s Choice” of writing.

So off the top of my head and in no particular order, I need to read everything written by Junot Diaz, Cheryl Strayed, Anna Quindlen, Kelly Corrigan and Tina Fey.

And at the top of the list of favorites is my idol Nora Ephron, who always wove a strong and identifiable voice throughout all of her writing. Even when she wasn’t writing about herself, you could sense her there, among the words. It inspires my writing and encourages me to keep honing my own voice. And her belief that “everything is copy” has become my mantra. Much to others’ chagrin.

 5.    What is your most prized possession?

This was by far the most difficult question. But after running through a mental inventory of all that I physically own, and coming up short, I turned inward and decided that what has been critical throughout my life and has helped me out on numerous occasions is my undying sense of optimism. Without it, I might still be lying on floor somewhere in despair. But for some reason, I can pull it out of my back pocket and know that everything will work out. With it, I believe in my heart that life will always improve. And I hope I can leave a big dose of that optimism to all my children along with my extensive collection of wooden cats and beige sweaters when I check out some day.

6.    Cat or Dog?

Dogs because at least they (for the most part) poop outdoors. But don’t let me fool you: I’m kind of obsessed with our cat and am always commenting on the way she tucks her paws under her chin just-so or how cute and fat she is when she rolls around the TV room floor. It’s like having some weird raccoon living in our house, minus the rabies.

 7.    What is the most delicious food you have ever eaten?

Even when it’s bad, pizza is so damn good. I could eat it for every meal, every day. And while I’ve grilled pizza here at home and had fancy pies at restaurants sprinkled with arugula and shaved prosciutto, and eaten slices served at Hoboken pizzerias that are the size of a newborn baby (literally, Benny Tudino’s has a picture taped on the wall of a sleeping infant next to a slice and they were comparable in length), I’d be happy with the so-so pizza served right around the corner from me. Sprinkled with some parmesan and hot pepper flakes and folded in half … heaven. I would marry it if I could.

8. What is your favorite quote and by whom? 

“Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim.”
― Nora Ephron

Here’s one thing I’ve learned over the last 47 years: You need to be the captain of your own ship. Because once you give away control of the wheel, man, you don’t know where you might end up. But when you take charge of your destiny, you have only yourself to credit or blame for the outcome and can course correct and change direction at will. You can practically feel the wind in your hair.

9. If you could meet anyone dead or alive, who would it be?

Straight up, Oprah.

Or, maybe Tina Fey. Hmmm … I love Amy Poehler, too.

And that new Pope is kind of cool.

I just asked my 16-year-old daughter what she thought I should say and she thought for a second and said, “I don’t know. Like, Beyonce?”

Really? Do I really seem like the kind of person who would most want to meet Beyonce?

I think I might need to start acting more serious around here.

10. What is your favorite post that you’ve written? (Please provide link!)

I had a really bad break up earlier this year. We’d been together for a while and had grown pretty close but in the end, I realized I wasn’t doing myself any favors clinging to such a one-sided relationship and had to say good-bye. But you know, I’m gonna miss that salty good-for-nothing. You can read all about it HERE.

I had lots of fun answering all the great questions posed by I Suck as a Parent and love that she recognized my blog and asked me to play along.

And in accordance to the Liebster law, I’d like to nominate the following bloggers:

And here are your questions:

  1. How did you pick your blog’s name?
  2. Knowing what you know now, what advice would you give your 13-year-old self?
  3. What’s your favorite TV show?
  4. What are three things you cannot live without?
  5. Who is your favorite fictional character?
  6. What is your most prized possession?
  7. Describe yourself in three words.
  8. What is your guiltiest pleasure?
  9. What single quality do you most appreciate in people?
  10. What’s your favorite post that you’ve written? (Link, please!)

You can find more details on the Liebster Awards here and make sure you link out to everyone and share the blogger love.

 

 

 

Jul
29
2013

10 Things I Learned at BlogHer13

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The view from my room at the Sheraton in Chicago was not shabby. Who knew a lake could be so big? #getoutofjersey

I got back late Saturday night after three whirlwind days in Chicago where I saw none of the city, other than the fabulous view outside my hotel window, but did have a front row seat to dozens of amazing and inspiring speakers at BlogHer13. Herewith, a report of what I now know:

  1. Sheryl Sandberg is a rock star.  First of all, she looks amazing close up; she’s tiny, has fabulous skin and a great blow out. She came down to where we were all eating breakfast before her appearance/interview Saturday morning and was quickly engulfed by dozens of women trying to catch a little of her feminist pixie dust. I have such a girl crush on Sandberg right now that even I abandoned my normally passive demeanor and elbowed my way up front. While waiting for my chance for a photo op, I watched as she interacted with the other bloggers, shaking each one’s hand and asking where the woman lived and then patiently listening to anecdotes about how that woman had been inspired by her book to lean in. She then took two of those stories – complete with the women’s names and where they were from – and referenced them during her interview on stage. Like, that’s a pro, man.

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    Breakfast with Sheryl Sandberg at BlogHer13 in Chicago. Highlight!

  2. I lack common sense. No one does well on three hours of sleep. Inherently, I know that. But it took me so long to pack for Chicago – like put all the stuff that had been lying in piles around my room into my bag – that I found myself blowing my hair dry at 11 p.m. with a 4 a.m. airport pickup looming just hours away. And then, because I truly enjoy personal sabotage, I sat up with a big glass of red wine and watched Colbert until midnight. I looked like someone had punched me in the face by about 5 p.m. the next day and quickly passed out after the wine that accompanied my room service dinner (salad and fries: heaven) hit my bloodstream.
  3. You are apt to overlook packing vital technology when overtired. When you’re operating on about 3 and a half hours of sleep, it’s really easy to overlook the iPad that’s been charging next to your bed all night, just about 12 inches from your head, and leave it on your nightstand as you scramble to get out the door. #imadope
  4. She’s just a regular girl. Like me. To unwind or “lean back,” as they say, Sandberg told us that she binges on TV and recently finished seasons of Girls and Nashville. Seriously, we were separated at birth.
  5. Sometimes, all you need is a pal or two. I immediately connected with Emily Grossi of Em-i-lis during our pre-conference session after admiring her fabulous Coach strappy heels and sassy shorts. We picked up Heidi Jeter (no relation to Derek), who blogs at Still a Dancing Queen, the following day after I noticed her sitting by herself on the shuttle bus. I recognized her from my session the day before as I walked past, and when I sat down a few seats behind I thought, “This is no way to make friends.” I got up and plopped down in the seat next to her and said, “Hello.”
  6. Forget alcohol. Nothing cures the fear of flying like striking up a conversation with the really cute, chatty guy sitting next to you on the plane. I skidded into the airport for my return flight Saturday night and made my way to my gate with about a half hour until boarding. I quickly made my way to the closest bar and guzzled some red wine so I could sleep through the flight home. (I find dozing through takeoff and landing is the best way for me to keep from obsessing about crashing throughout the flight.) As I pulled out my classy neck pillow and prepared to nap, I said something to the guy next to me and two hours later – which included enough turbulence that the captain had us fasten our seatbelts – we were landing in Newark. Now if the universe would just put another cute, friendly guy next to me I won’t have to pop the Valium my mom slipped me for my flight to Greece this weekend.
  7. Talking about writing a book is not the same as actually writing the book. I went to numerous break out sessions on book writing and getting your work published on other sites or publications and learned that none of that is going to happen unless I do the work. Dammit.
  8. The world is not overrun by people from New Jersey. In fact, it wasn’t until the third day of the conference that I even met another person from the Garden State (shout out to fellow Jersey girls: Brooke at carpool candy and Lisa at Mom a la Mode). There were women at BlogHer from all over the country: Seattle, Montana, Milwaukee, Los Angeles, Florida, Wahington, D.C. and lots of women from the Chicago area. It was great to be reminded the world doesn’t begin and end with the Greater New York City area.  Who knew?
  9. You could do nothing all day but read fabulous blogs. Prior to BlogHer, I couldn’t really find any blogs I wanted to follow. But after attending Friday night’s Voices of the Year event – hosted by Queen Latifah (who was 45 minutes late) and featuring bloggers reading from this year’s winning posts –I  couldn’t believe the depth and breadth of writing out in the blogosphere. Everything from figuring out you’re gay, to sex after 40 to the perils of crafting. Something, and someone, for everyone.
  10. I can choose intimidation or inspiration. After meeting and hearing all these smart women who take their craft so seriously, I
    Leaning in at BlogHer13: What would you do if you weren't afraid to fail?

    Leaning in at BlogHer13: What would you do if you weren’t afraid to fail?

    have decided to choose the latter. I choose to be motivated by a community that cares about the best tense for writing a memoir or what makes a blog post funny (comparing your kids to hamsters, perhaps?) rather than surrender to my inner Debbie Downer.  Because the overarching message of the whole lean in thing is asking yourself the question, “What would I do if I weren’t afraid to fail?” And maybe between the inspiration and all that pixie dust, I’ll become a better blogger, too.

 

 

Jul
26
2013

birds of a feather

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IMG_2694For many years I did freelance reporting for small local newspapers. I’ve always loved covering an assignment — whether it’s a municipal meeting, community day or a wrestling match — and boiling it down to the most relevant bits and painting the picture for my reader of what transpired.

But because I worked as a freelancer, I had very little interaction with fellow journalists and for many years, I was the only reporter I ever really knew.

So when I started my current job three years ago as an editor of an online news site, it was thrilling to sit down at our first team meeting with 10 other reporters.

“I love being with journalists,” I remember one of my new co-workers and now pal declared as we sat down at a the time, and I recall feeling really intimidated by that statement because surely they must have sensed that I was a fraud.

I felt that I had done an adequate job giving the impression that I was some seasoned reporter but was convinced that the jig was about to be up.

I am having a similar sensation here again at BlogHer.

I really don’t know any bloggers in real life (other than my fabulous friend Barb at Wow, I’m a Widow Now), and yesterday I met tons of real-live-bloggers. Some I’d even read about or followed prior to this big conference. And it was kind of intimidating.

But cool, too, to once again be in the presence of like-minded people. And someone even had read my blog prior to the conference!

But maybe sometimes intimidation is what we all need. It pushes us out of that comfort zone (like being content with publishing just one post a week) and challenges us to do more. To be more.

In less than a few hours I’ll be in a room with over 4,000 bloggers and getting revved up for the next two days by none other than the mega blogger Ree Drummond of The Pioneer Woman.

But I’ve got a cute outfit and a new friend or two, and sometimes cute clothes and a pal are all a girl needs.

If nothing else, I get to stay in a fabulous hotel room, as evidenced by my early morning view from my window above.

 

 

 

Jul
24
2013

BlogWho? BlogWhat? Oh, BlogHer!

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BH13_298x255_0Apparently, I’m about to take this whole blogging thing a little more seriously.

Blogging had always been something I wanted to do, ever since I heard about the whole Web Log trend over a decade ago.

“What? Writing and talking about myself  happen to be two of my favorite things! I’d be the perfect blogger!” thought Amy, sensing this was the most perfect pairing since Cheez-Its and red wine.

It just took 10 years for me to actually stop talking about it and launch the thing.

So while I’m still pretty impressed with myself for even following through on my threat to overshare publicly, I’ve learned that there are some tricks involved for becoming a successful blogger (whatever that exactly means) and I want to learn more.

So I’m getting picked up at 4 a.m. tomorrow to head to Chicago for the first of a three-day bloggerfest called BlogHer. The Big Kahuna of blog conferences (I read somewhere on the Internet) BlogHer brings together over 4,000 (mostly female) bloggers and gives them a few days stuffed with networking, sponsorship opportunities, breakout sessions like “Grow & Monetize Your E-Mail List” and “Roundtable: A Case for Podcasting” and hopefully, a big dose of inspiration.

It’s terrifying.

(Side note: My 20-year-old son, upon learning what BlogHer was all about, said, “Sounds like a nightmare.”)

Frankly, I signed up in June when I saw on Facebook (ironically) that Sheryl Sandberg was to be one of this year’s keynote speakers.

Sign #1.

Then I find out after the flights were booked and the dye was cast that The Pioneer Woman – Ree Drummond – was also set to speak.

Sign #2.

And finally, the speaker closing out the conference on Saturday is one of the writers/producers of The Walking Dead (you don’t even know how much I love zombies).

The Universe wanted me, no NEEDED ME, to go to this thing.

So I’m off on my first of two big adventures this summer (I’ll share more about my Shirley Valentine-style getaway next week), with my fancy new camera bought for both missions and some cute outfits, including a darling pair of shorts I bought at JCrew yesterday to wear to BlogHer’s evening activities and fabulous necklaces, compliments of my sister-in-law.

I’d be a full-on liar if I didn’t tell you that I’m a little nervous to show up in a strange city and not know even one of the 4,000 ladies there (I mean, I do know Sheryl and Ree but we might not be hanging out much). My stomach has been a mess all week.

But that’s how serious I am about this blog and my writing. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t push to see how far I could take this thing.

And maybe, in the end, my blog will turn out to be just a fun thing I did that resonated with a few people other than my mom and BFFs (a guy at a party I went to last weekend called me the Carrie Bradshaw of our little town, and that was pleasing).

If nothing else, it’s three solid days sans sandwich making or laundry folding, and that’s a win right there.

I’ll keep you posted.

Jun
05
2013

fuck fear

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My girlfriend emailed me this video yesterday and had written “Fuck Fear” in the subject line and I was inspired not just by the whole “Lean In” thing but by the sentiment of those two words combined.

I’m tired of being afraid. Of not feeling good enough. And I have to keep reminding myself, “If not now, when?”

Luckily, just looking at myself in the mirror nowadays is a reminder that I am not the girl I used to be, when I see the slight sag in my belly while I’m sitting drying my hair or the deep wrinkle creating a slash down the side of my cheek.

And I will be very disappointed with myself if I don’t at least TRY to live the life I want to live before it’s too late.

So I started this year off by announcing to my therapist early in January (thus going on the record) that I was no longer fucking around and had three goals for my year:

  1. To concentrate on my writing.
  2. To go on an adventure.
  3.  To to be open to love.

And while, as noted previously, I haven’t been super-proactive in the love department, I’ve actually followed through on the other two.

Obviously, at long last I got it together and launched the blog and while I don’t post as often as I’d like to, I’ve been pretty regular with my writing. And now that I’ve conquered that part of the equation, I’ve decided to throw my hat into the official blogger ring and attend the BlogHer conference in Chicago and hobnob with fellow over-sharers in July.

(Sidebar: I knew it was a sign I should attend when BlogHer announced that Sheryl Sandberg would be their keynote speaker.)

And in August, right before I say hello to 47, I will spend a week sailing around the Dodocanese Islands on a small boat surrounded by strangers on what I hope is the adventure I’ve been longing for yet tired of waiting to find someone to share it with.

So, I say, “Fuck you” to fear (or try to, at least) and not only do I encourage my daughters to take risks and believe in themselves, but my boys as well.

My youngest son, who’s 10, learned that this morning when we found ourselves scrambling, once again, to get him out the door to an early saxophone lesson. It’s been the bane of our existence the entire school year, getting him to the weekly lesson and practicing at home a few times a week. It’s all led to him feeling inadequate as the other kids have improved and he continues to struggle with the instrument.

So I looked into his big eyes this morning as we sat parked in front of the school, — and really, you’ve never seen such bright blue eyes — just brimming with tears, and I assured him that he could be just as good as those other kids, he just needed to get serious and practice hard before next week’s concert.

And then I told him what I named this essay  and to dry his tears and get out there and give it his all.

Because life is an equal opportunity challenger, as we are reminded is this quote that I’ve been loving by Teddy Roosevelt delivered over 100 years ago:

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again … who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

My little guy got out of the car and walked towards the school’s front entrance, weighed down by the instrument case in one hand and a backpack stuffed with about 20 pounds of text books and pretzels, hanging from his back. About 10 steps from the front door he turned around and gave me a little wave and then opened the door and entered the arena.

Apr
26
2013

too much information

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It happened one day last week.

There I was, minding my own business in my kitchen while frittering away precious moments on Facebook, when I heard the ding of a text hit my cell.

I looked and saw my ex-husband’s name pop up and felt that familiar spark of adrenaline as a panic attack began to spread through my chest. He can be a serious text bully, and had spent a lot of time sending me venomous thoughts wirelessly during our divorce. To this day, I experience PTSD symptoms every time I see a text come in from him, even though nowadays most of our exchanges are benign and sometimes even pleasant.

But I’d been waiting for this one.

He  was wondering, via text, what our children must think of my newsletter “or whatever u call it.” He’d been hearing about it “week after week”  from others, asking him how he felt about his ex-wife writing about him and the kids.

That’s funny, I thought, my friends had been asking me the same thing. Well, now we know he’d at least heard about my blog.

“Thanks 4 that. I’m sure the kids will thank u 4 that some day too,” he finished, adding what time he’d pick up our youngest for baseball practice.

Here’s the funny part: My children are my blog’s biggest fans. They are usually the first ones  to like a post on Facebook. They always send encouraging notes after reading a post and get on me when it’s been a while since I’ve written something.

Yesterday, my oldest told me my most recent post had him “crying lol.”

“Great writing,” he texted.

When I wrote recently about my gift for getting pregnant and several subsequent miscarriages, he told me how “emotional” he felt reading it and was promoting my blog to all of his friends via Facebook.

“Writing too good for people not to see,” he wrote.

My heart swelled inside my chest, Grinch-style.

This, from the child who challenged me from Day 1. Who at times made me question myself as a mother and a person. But to be honest, he’s the oldest and had always been under my mommy microscope. Nonetheless,  I was thrilled.

But I admit, I am always nervous before posting something for all the world to see. I never want my children to feel like I’ve thrown them under the blogger bus. And though I know I have the propensity to overshare – to friends, family, complete strangers – I feel like I (usually) have a good sense of what really should stay private.

Things no one needs to read about online.

I went to hear Anna Quindlen speak at the 92Street Y a few months ago and someone in the audience asked her what her rules were for writing about her children. Quindlen said she was sensitive to it and as a rule has the subject review the piece before publication.

I, on the other hand, am not so democratic.

Of course, I have gotten a couple of texts from my college son complaining that I’d crossed the line (one time was valid and the other he completely misread). Even my post – complete with photos – about my daughter’s pigsty of a bedroom didn’t elicit any e-message to cease and desist. And that girl can be very intimidating when threatened.

My little guy walked by me while I was working on my laptop recently and spied the photo of his handywork mutilating the sheetrock in our garage as the picture accompanying one of my posts. He stopped, stared over my shoulder, and said, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

As for my former husband, well, therein lies the rub. On the one hand, the man has provided enough copy, as Nora Ephron would say, for a lifetime of blog posts. But we had a whole herd of children together and although our marriage didn’t last, I believe in my heart that he truly did the best that he could at the time.

I mean, don’t we all?

And I don’t want to speak badly about him for my kids’ sake, too. Who wants to be that ex-wife? But that doesn’t mean that sometimes I don’t want to take a little swipe. Like, I’m not perfect.

I think I subscribe to what Epron wrote in Heartburn, “Because if I tell the story, I control the version. Because if I tell the story I can make you laugh, and I would rather have you laugh at me than feel sorry for me. Because if I tell the story I can get on with it.”

Interestingly, my 19-year-old daughter and I were chatting on Facebook yesterday after she read my most recent post and she started getting all Jan Brady and complained, “You only write about the boys.”

“Really?” I asked. “You really want me to write about you?”

“Of course,” she replied. “But only the good things.”