So, Pamela Ribon's story was funny and great, but yes, every woman is different. I'll attempt to explain my experience.
I
had Braxton Hicks for quite a while without realizing it. For a long
time I thought it felt like the baby was pushing outward. Like her little self was turning around in my womb and midway
through her turn her head or feet would be sticking out my front and her
feet or head would be at my spine.
"Contraction" makes you think of
something getting smaller, that's part of the trouble. Unless
you're talking a material that's very porous, like a piece of cloth, if
you squeeze it one way it will expand another way. Muscles,
particularly. Flex a muscle, and it sticks out. The uterus is like that,
too. Huh. Sometimes, if I'd pull my shirt up a bit, you could actually
see the uterus all flexed and "contracted," sticking out of my belly. So
weird.
The other thing about Braxton Hicks is that it
often won't be the whole uterus. They're little practice contractions,
and they'll just flex one spot or another. Generally, for me, it did
seem to be around where the baby was or at least where the baby was
moving a lot -- for example, if she was doing a lot of rib kicking, the
contraction would be up by my ribs. And push the ribs outward. And hurt.
They almost always flexed around my belly button, too, so when they didn't hurt, when unsure of whether or not I was actually having a contraction, I'd touch my belly button area to see if it was rock solid, and that helped me time the BH contractions when I needed to keep track.
Actually, I'd do that even when they did hurt, because sometimes my ribs would just hurt for like twenty minutes straight, and I was pretty sure I wasn't having a contraction for twenty minutes straight even if I was having one right after another after another, so checking to see if I'd turned into a rock helped me more or less sort out where one ended and the next began.
I
mean, on the scale of pain that includes actual childbirth, Braxton
Hicks contractions pushing your ribs out doesn't hurt. But we don't use
that scale, because then nothing hurts, and it's just really not a
helpful scale. Unless you want to talk about childbirth. If you want to
talk about anything else (okay, except kidney stones, and quite possibly amputations or something), that scale is completely, one hundred per cent
useless.
So. On the sane scale, little tiny
contractions pushing your ribs out can hurt. Sometimes it's just a
little uncomfortable, but sometimes it's like, as I posted before, your baby thinks it's a good idea to tunnel out through your ribs, and OW.
Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, Braxton Hicks. I had them.
Once
I noticed that I had them, and confirmed with my OB/GYN that that's
what they were, she asked if they were in a pattern. I didn't think so,
but since I hadn't known what they were, that wasn't exactly something
I'd paid a ton of attention to.
So I started paying
attention. I started noticing they kind of happened pretty frequently,
so I started writing down when I had them, to see if there was a
pattern. At first there wasn't. And though I had them a lot, all day every day, I think I
didn't have more than four in an hour, which was the most conservative
warning sign I'd been told to watch for.
(Though
knowing me, if I surpassed the most conservative sign I would then hem
and haw and watch it and make sure I didn't reach the more extreme signs
too, before contacting any medical help.)
(Also,
for perspective, I seem to remember reading about some women talking about noticing Braxton Hicks, like a couple contractions every day.
A couple a day? You have got to be kidding me.)
Then I went to a Brent Weeks signing in San Diego. Not only was that great fun, it's also more or less when the real "fun" began! Well, the next day, anyway. I think the signing might warrant a post of its own, in fact. Sure! Why not?
To be continued!
Monday, May 20, 2013
Friday, May 17, 2013
"Some of the Pregnancy Stories" Part 1... or "A Link" or... Something.
Back in December I said I was going to do this. I said, "So. Childbirth story. But that
story begins with some of the pregnancy stories. For those who aren't
friends with me on facebook, I will try to begin at the beginning. So.
That will come next, I think."
I mean, I sort of started to tell some of it. I gave you facebook pregnancy status updates, and a post about being overwhelmed and pregnancy and anemia. But I didn't really start the stories yet.
So. (I know, I keep saying that.) Here's a start. A real start.
Or... not. I mean, I wrote out a whole post that was the beginning, but it was 1000 words long, and most people who recommend anything about blogging seem to recommend writing posts at half that length (at most). So I'm chopping this one in half.
(Kind of. It's sorta like a starfish. You chop off limbs and it regrows them. But it is smaller, at the moment.
"Quick! Hit publish before it grows so big it kills us all, like some horrible video game dungeon boss with regen capabilities!")
Hey, on the bright side, the rest is already written, so it'll be super extra easy to actually post later. On the less bright side, it's still barely the intro to the stories. But... if you want to read more, there's more! Lots more! Yay?
Anywho, this first half is a bit more about why I'm doing this. (And the first half is also looong, preambly intro, evidently. Also not supposed to do that. And parentheses. John says I use too many of them. Basically I'm a bad person. Er, blogger.) I know. I'm sorry, I do run on. But there's a link involved that is so very good. I promise. (Warning: little bit of language, though. For those who care.)
Somehow, one can live for almost thirty years and never think much about or hear a description of what a contraction feels like. At least in modern times.
As Pamela Ribon said in this amazing, wonderful, that exactly post, "It is incredible to me that when I sit with three friends who aren’t pregnant who are asking me what it’s like, that all I’m doing is teaching them things they didn’t know that I didn’t know either before getting pregnant. That four women can be all way above twenty-five years old and not know the kinds of things that happen to us when every single one of us is here because someone went through this for us. Why don’t we all know what happens to people when they get pregnant?"
And, "Why is pregnancy such a combination of mystical and disgusting that we choose to not talk about it? You can’t get pregnant from learning about it. Can you? I’m not sure anymore. Because I didn’t know until I was pregnant that there was a chance my stomach muscles would separate. I would’ve like to have been informed beforehand. There were sixteen pages of 'Here are all the ways you might get hurt or die' that I had to read through before I could skydive. I had to watch videos and sign consent forms to sit in a helicopter for twenty minutes. I had to have two forms of insurance to play roller derby. But at no point did a doctor or a teacher or a fellow woman stop to say, 'Hey, listen. Before you get pregnant, you should know that it could cause you to lose feeling in both legs for months every time you try to sleep. Your feet could grow and they’ll never go back to the size they once were. You might get massive nosebleeds that make you think you have brain cancer, but you don’t — you’re just pregnant. It’s why you can’t stop crying and get panic attacks when you’re in a passenger seat on the highway.'"
Here I am, talking about it. Well, somewhat. Virtually. Or... I will.
Oh, and those bits above that I quoted are more serious bits. The post overall is hilarious. I especially like one bit in the middle of her last Maya Angelou-ish contraction poem... go read it yourself. Then you'll ask which part I was talking about, and I'll say, "That part, of course!" and you'll say, "That's what I thought, I just wanted to be sure."
Moms out there, what do you wish you'd been told?
I mean, I sort of started to tell some of it. I gave you facebook pregnancy status updates, and a post about being overwhelmed and pregnancy and anemia. But I didn't really start the stories yet.
So. (I know, I keep saying that.) Here's a start. A real start.
Or... not. I mean, I wrote out a whole post that was the beginning, but it was 1000 words long, and most people who recommend anything about blogging seem to recommend writing posts at half that length (at most). So I'm chopping this one in half.
(Kind of. It's sorta like a starfish. You chop off limbs and it regrows them. But it is smaller, at the moment.
"Quick! Hit publish before it grows so big it kills us all, like some horrible video game dungeon boss with regen capabilities!")
Hey, on the bright side, the rest is already written, so it'll be super extra easy to actually post later. On the less bright side, it's still barely the intro to the stories. But... if you want to read more, there's more! Lots more! Yay?
Anywho, this first half is a bit more about why I'm doing this. (And the first half is also looong, preambly intro, evidently. Also not supposed to do that. And parentheses. John says I use too many of them. Basically I'm a bad person. Er, blogger.) I know. I'm sorry, I do run on. But there's a link involved that is so very good. I promise. (Warning: little bit of language, though. For those who care.)
Somehow, one can live for almost thirty years and never think much about or hear a description of what a contraction feels like. At least in modern times.
As Pamela Ribon said in this amazing, wonderful, that exactly post, "It is incredible to me that when I sit with three friends who aren’t pregnant who are asking me what it’s like, that all I’m doing is teaching them things they didn’t know that I didn’t know either before getting pregnant. That four women can be all way above twenty-five years old and not know the kinds of things that happen to us when every single one of us is here because someone went through this for us. Why don’t we all know what happens to people when they get pregnant?"
And, "Why is pregnancy such a combination of mystical and disgusting that we choose to not talk about it? You can’t get pregnant from learning about it. Can you? I’m not sure anymore. Because I didn’t know until I was pregnant that there was a chance my stomach muscles would separate. I would’ve like to have been informed beforehand. There were sixteen pages of 'Here are all the ways you might get hurt or die' that I had to read through before I could skydive. I had to watch videos and sign consent forms to sit in a helicopter for twenty minutes. I had to have two forms of insurance to play roller derby. But at no point did a doctor or a teacher or a fellow woman stop to say, 'Hey, listen. Before you get pregnant, you should know that it could cause you to lose feeling in both legs for months every time you try to sleep. Your feet could grow and they’ll never go back to the size they once were. You might get massive nosebleeds that make you think you have brain cancer, but you don’t — you’re just pregnant. It’s why you can’t stop crying and get panic attacks when you’re in a passenger seat on the highway.'"
Here I am, talking about it. Well, somewhat. Virtually. Or... I will.
Oh, and those bits above that I quoted are more serious bits. The post overall is hilarious. I especially like one bit in the middle of her last Maya Angelou-ish contraction poem... go read it yourself. Then you'll ask which part I was talking about, and I'll say, "That part, of course!" and you'll say, "That's what I thought, I just wanted to be sure."
Moms out there, what do you wish you'd been told?
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
The Name of the Star
Installment #3 in the Book Reviews for Melanie series.
The Name of the Star
(Shades of London #1) by Maureen Johnson
Read: 12/17/11-12/18/11
Click here for my sister Sondy's review
I first heard of Maureen Johnson when I joined twitter and my sister Sondy told me to follow her because she was the funniest person on twitter. She was right.
And yet, for no apparent reason, I've only read one of her books so far. This must be remedied.
The Name of the Star is that one book. A friend gave it to me as an early Christmas present in 2011, for which I am grateful. Melanie, you should read it. It's even on our Kindle account. (I should read the sequel that came out a couple months ago, The Madness Underneath. And, well, her other books, in other series.)
Melanie, you know how when a book starts out in the "normal world" and then shifts to fantasy, the normal world part tends to be kind of boring and annoying, with the exception of The Chronicles of Narnia? Even books that I really really like, like Garth Nix's Abhorsen Trilogy
?
Well, The Name of the Star doesn't move from one world to another, but the main character's eyes are opened to a different world underneath the surface of her normal world, so it more or less fits in with the category.
And I'll admit, the weirder it got, the more I liked it. It just got better and better. But boring normal world? Not so much. What saves it here is Maureen Johnson's voice. Of course, having followed her on twitter, I should've known her books would be funny, and the voice would be awesome! How could they not be?
For example, take this quote from the beginning of the book (only a map and the intro come before this):
"If you live around New Orleans and they think a hurricane might be coming, all hell breaks loose. Not among the residents, really, but on the news. The news wants us to worry desperately about hurricanes. In my town, Bénouville, Louisiana (pronounced locally as Ben-ah-VEEL; population 1,700), hurricane preparations generally include buying more beer, and ice to keep that beer cold when the power goes out. We do have a neighbor with a two-man rowboat lashed on top of the porch roof, all ready to go if the water rises--but that's Billy Mack, and he started his own religion in the garage, so he's got a lot more going on than just an extreme concern for personal safety.
"Anyway, Bénouville is an unstable place, built on a swamp. Everyone who lives there accepts that it was a terrible place to build a town, but since it's there, we just go on living in it. Every fifty years or so, everything but the old hotel gets wrecked by a flood or a hurricane--and the same bunch of lunatics comes back and builds new stuff."
Or, another long one... (I'm sorry, I read it again as I was going through my highlights, and I just can't resist!) Um, to understand some of the quotes that follow, you should know that the main character, Rory, leaves Louisiana to study abroad, in England. So.
"I know you're not supposed to judge people when you first meet them--but sometimes they give you lots of material to work with. For example, she kept looking sideways at my uniform. It would have been so easy for her to say, 'Take a second and change,' but she hadn't done that. I guess I could have demanded it, but I was cowed by her head girl status. Also, halfway down the stairs, she told me she was going to apply to Cambridge. Anyone who tells you their fancy college plans before they tell you their last name... these are people to watch out for. I once met a girl in line at Walmart who told me she was going to be on America's Next Top Model. When I next saw that girl, she was crashing a shopping cart into an old lady's car out in the parking lot. Signs. You have to read them.
"I was terrified for a few minutes that they would all be like this, but reassured myself that it probably took a certain type to become head girl. I decided to deflect her attitude by giving a long, Southern answer. I come from people who know how to draw things out. Annoy a Southerner, and we will drain away the moments of your life with our slow, detailed replies until you are nothing but a husk of your former self and that much closer to death."
And then there's:
"These people didn't seem rich--at least, they weren't a kind of rich I was familiar with. Rich meant stupid cars and a ridiculous house and huge parties with limos to New Orleans on your sixteenth birthday to drink nonalcoholic Hurricanes, which you swap out for real Hurricanes in the bathroom, and then you steal a duck, and then you throw up in a fountain. Okay, I was thinking of someone very specific in that case, but that was the general idea of rich that I currently held."
"'You don't say much, do you?' Jerome asked me.
No one in my entire life had ever said this about me.
'You don't know me yet,' I said.
'Rory was telling me she lives in a swamp,' Charlotte said.
'That's right,' I said, turning up my accent a little. 'These are the first shoes I've ever owned. They sure do pinch my feet.'"
Okay, that's enough of that. I read some more of my highlights, but not all of them. I must not read all of them at this time, or this review will get too long. ("Goodbye, Thing. Your [review] is too long." No, I know it doesn't have quite the same ring to it.)
However, if you scroll back up to the top and click on the link to read Sondy's review (Oh, or wait, here it is again! Where'd that come from?), she does include another quote that I was tempted to use in mine. Two for the price of one! Or something. Overall, she more or less says the same things I do about the book, but in a different way, and better. And a little more of the plotty premise details.
What is the book actually about? Well, it's technically YA, though I generally don't concern myself much with those age categorizations. And it's a mystery involving Jack the Ripper lookalike murders. If you haven't read much about Jack the Ripper, his murders were pretty gruesome. I didn't realize. Um, don't google him, if you don't want to know more. The book seemed sufficient, to me. Anyway. The Name of the Star is also about... weird elements. I'm not going to specify more than that, to avoid giving even a teensy bit of a spoiler. But I really liked how the mechanics of the weird elements were worked out. Good strong worldbuilding.
Dang it, no teensy spoiler means I can't use one of the book review category tags I wanted to use. Oh well.
Have fun!
The Name of the Star
(Shades of London #1) by Maureen JohnsonRead: 12/17/11-12/18/11
Click here for my sister Sondy's review
I first heard of Maureen Johnson when I joined twitter and my sister Sondy told me to follow her because she was the funniest person on twitter. She was right.
And yet, for no apparent reason, I've only read one of her books so far. This must be remedied.
The Name of the Star is that one book. A friend gave it to me as an early Christmas present in 2011, for which I am grateful. Melanie, you should read it. It's even on our Kindle account. (I should read the sequel that came out a couple months ago, The Madness Underneath. And, well, her other books, in other series.)
Melanie, you know how when a book starts out in the "normal world" and then shifts to fantasy, the normal world part tends to be kind of boring and annoying, with the exception of The Chronicles of Narnia? Even books that I really really like, like Garth Nix's Abhorsen Trilogy
?Well, The Name of the Star doesn't move from one world to another, but the main character's eyes are opened to a different world underneath the surface of her normal world, so it more or less fits in with the category.
And I'll admit, the weirder it got, the more I liked it. It just got better and better. But boring normal world? Not so much. What saves it here is Maureen Johnson's voice. Of course, having followed her on twitter, I should've known her books would be funny, and the voice would be awesome! How could they not be?
For example, take this quote from the beginning of the book (only a map and the intro come before this):
"If you live around New Orleans and they think a hurricane might be coming, all hell breaks loose. Not among the residents, really, but on the news. The news wants us to worry desperately about hurricanes. In my town, Bénouville, Louisiana (pronounced locally as Ben-ah-VEEL; population 1,700), hurricane preparations generally include buying more beer, and ice to keep that beer cold when the power goes out. We do have a neighbor with a two-man rowboat lashed on top of the porch roof, all ready to go if the water rises--but that's Billy Mack, and he started his own religion in the garage, so he's got a lot more going on than just an extreme concern for personal safety.
"Anyway, Bénouville is an unstable place, built on a swamp. Everyone who lives there accepts that it was a terrible place to build a town, but since it's there, we just go on living in it. Every fifty years or so, everything but the old hotel gets wrecked by a flood or a hurricane--and the same bunch of lunatics comes back and builds new stuff."
Or, another long one... (I'm sorry, I read it again as I was going through my highlights, and I just can't resist!) Um, to understand some of the quotes that follow, you should know that the main character, Rory, leaves Louisiana to study abroad, in England. So.
"I know you're not supposed to judge people when you first meet them--but sometimes they give you lots of material to work with. For example, she kept looking sideways at my uniform. It would have been so easy for her to say, 'Take a second and change,' but she hadn't done that. I guess I could have demanded it, but I was cowed by her head girl status. Also, halfway down the stairs, she told me she was going to apply to Cambridge. Anyone who tells you their fancy college plans before they tell you their last name... these are people to watch out for. I once met a girl in line at Walmart who told me she was going to be on America's Next Top Model. When I next saw that girl, she was crashing a shopping cart into an old lady's car out in the parking lot. Signs. You have to read them.
"I was terrified for a few minutes that they would all be like this, but reassured myself that it probably took a certain type to become head girl. I decided to deflect her attitude by giving a long, Southern answer. I come from people who know how to draw things out. Annoy a Southerner, and we will drain away the moments of your life with our slow, detailed replies until you are nothing but a husk of your former self and that much closer to death."
And then there's:
"These people didn't seem rich--at least, they weren't a kind of rich I was familiar with. Rich meant stupid cars and a ridiculous house and huge parties with limos to New Orleans on your sixteenth birthday to drink nonalcoholic Hurricanes, which you swap out for real Hurricanes in the bathroom, and then you steal a duck, and then you throw up in a fountain. Okay, I was thinking of someone very specific in that case, but that was the general idea of rich that I currently held."
"'You don't say much, do you?' Jerome asked me.
No one in my entire life had ever said this about me.
'You don't know me yet,' I said.
'Rory was telling me she lives in a swamp,' Charlotte said.
'That's right,' I said, turning up my accent a little. 'These are the first shoes I've ever owned. They sure do pinch my feet.'"
Okay, that's enough of that. I read some more of my highlights, but not all of them. I must not read all of them at this time, or this review will get too long. ("Goodbye, Thing. Your [review] is too long." No, I know it doesn't have quite the same ring to it.)
However, if you scroll back up to the top and click on the link to read Sondy's review (Oh, or wait, here it is again! Where'd that come from?), she does include another quote that I was tempted to use in mine. Two for the price of one! Or something. Overall, she more or less says the same things I do about the book, but in a different way, and better. And a little more of the plotty premise details.
What is the book actually about? Well, it's technically YA, though I generally don't concern myself much with those age categorizations. And it's a mystery involving Jack the Ripper lookalike murders. If you haven't read much about Jack the Ripper, his murders were pretty gruesome. I didn't realize. Um, don't google him, if you don't want to know more. The book seemed sufficient, to me. Anyway. The Name of the Star is also about... weird elements. I'm not going to specify more than that, to avoid giving even a teensy bit of a spoiler. But I really liked how the mechanics of the weird elements were worked out. Good strong worldbuilding.
Dang it, no teensy spoiler means I can't use one of the book review category tags I wanted to use. Oh well.
Have fun!
Sunday, May 12, 2013
How I Was Raised: The Good Parts Version
Now that I'm a mother, I've suddenly started thinking about things from my own childhood I was taking for granted. Or at least... it's not so much HAVING these things I took for granted, as the GIVING of these things. How did my parents do it, and how can I pass these things on to my daughter or any other children we eventually have?
Things that repeatedly come in handy, like knowing how to read music, or slightly more intangible things, like a love of reading. Most of them seem to have something to do with either music or books, somehow.
I want to do a new series, where I consider these things one by one. What my parents did, and how we might attempt to reproduce their gifts in our own children.
No, still not a mommy blog. For starters, I don't have answers. This is me wondering aloud, with a healthy dose of gratitude for my own mother thrown in. It's easy for me to forget about the good parts, or to be sort of smug about them. ("Good grief, why are so many Christians so Biblically illiterate?") Here I want to celebrate them, as a step to maybe spreading the love.
Also I want to challenge myself: I want to tell my parents, especially my mom, that I'm grateful for these things. Even if my mom doesn't understand. (For those new to the blog, she has dementia. For everyone, I haven't written about it much here, but she's gotten a lot worse.)
So. It seems appropriate that the first one should be about reading.
I love to read, and grew up loving to read. My reading comprehension is excellent. I don't say that to brag, it's a gift. Some combination of the way I was raised with the way my brain is wired.
How do I pass that on?
It seems really simple and easy to me at first. Maybe it is, I'm not sure. It's relatively rare though, to find that love in this world. So thank you, Mom, for the things you did to encourage book loving, in me and in all your kids.
I've started taking steps, by reading to my girl, codename: Gracie already. She doesn't seem to understand any of it yet, mostly she likes the pictures, and she gets really mad sometimes that I generally won't let her put the non-board books in her mouth, but that's okay.
It is really weird to think of imparting this love to her, well, practically by myself, in comparison with the way I was raised. When I think about it a little more I realize it's going to be fine and that I won't be alone, but...
I had eleven older brothers and sisters. For the most part, I liked the same books they liked. They were very good at finding me more and more and more books to read. It was lovely. And then, with being homeschooled, despite all the flaws, that love of reading was just reinforced more and more.
I... don't actually know when I learned to read. See, when you're the twelfth child, these kinds of milestones aren't so much... memorialized as they are in normal families. I do have different clues, however, and they point to a pretty young age. Maybe as early as three, probably four at the latest. I'm not sure. I know that it was before Mom was going to "officially" start me in school. There were a couple subjects she let me pressure her into starting early, and they did involve reading. I really really wanted to be like my cool older brothers, and to do what they were doing.
Gracie doesn't have older brothers. And at public school, I'm pretty sure the cool kids don't love reading. As things stand right now, it's not unlikely that we'll put her in public school.
I'll be very very happy and proud of my daughter whether she learns to read at three or not. Of course. But it's weird to me to think of letting her schoolteachers teach her to read, rather than me teaching her.
On the other hand, I don't have much of an idea of how to teach someone to read, other than vague ideas about reading to them a lot. I seem to remember that's how my mother did it, but mostly I remember the early days of knowing how, not the days leading up to it. I don't remember having to learn my letters. It's all easy, right? Right?
Well, it's not something I'm very worried about at this point. Just a little different to think about. Parents passing on nerdiness, rather than siblings? That's a world I couldn't imagine as a child, despite my mother teaching me to read.
I agree with some other posts I've seen out there -- one way to teach a love of reading is to let kids read what they want (particularly liked this comment on that last link). On the other hand, I know firsthand that reverse psychology is another way -- give the kids a 7:00 bedtime and forbid them to read in bed! But I don't want to go that route.
What about you? How do you, did you, or would you impart a love of reading (or a love of anything else) to your children? What's one gift, one ability that your mother gave you, that you're particularly thankful for?
Things that repeatedly come in handy, like knowing how to read music, or slightly more intangible things, like a love of reading. Most of them seem to have something to do with either music or books, somehow.
I want to do a new series, where I consider these things one by one. What my parents did, and how we might attempt to reproduce their gifts in our own children.
No, still not a mommy blog. For starters, I don't have answers. This is me wondering aloud, with a healthy dose of gratitude for my own mother thrown in. It's easy for me to forget about the good parts, or to be sort of smug about them. ("Good grief, why are so many Christians so Biblically illiterate?") Here I want to celebrate them, as a step to maybe spreading the love.
Also I want to challenge myself: I want to tell my parents, especially my mom, that I'm grateful for these things. Even if my mom doesn't understand. (For those new to the blog, she has dementia. For everyone, I haven't written about it much here, but she's gotten a lot worse.)
So. It seems appropriate that the first one should be about reading.
The Good Parts Version Part 1:
Reading
I love to read, and grew up loving to read. My reading comprehension is excellent. I don't say that to brag, it's a gift. Some combination of the way I was raised with the way my brain is wired.
How do I pass that on?
It seems really simple and easy to me at first. Maybe it is, I'm not sure. It's relatively rare though, to find that love in this world. So thank you, Mom, for the things you did to encourage book loving, in me and in all your kids.
I've started taking steps, by reading to my girl, codename: Gracie already. She doesn't seem to understand any of it yet, mostly she likes the pictures, and she gets really mad sometimes that I generally won't let her put the non-board books in her mouth, but that's okay.
It is really weird to think of imparting this love to her, well, practically by myself, in comparison with the way I was raised. When I think about it a little more I realize it's going to be fine and that I won't be alone, but...
I had eleven older brothers and sisters. For the most part, I liked the same books they liked. They were very good at finding me more and more and more books to read. It was lovely. And then, with being homeschooled, despite all the flaws, that love of reading was just reinforced more and more.
I... don't actually know when I learned to read. See, when you're the twelfth child, these kinds of milestones aren't so much... memorialized as they are in normal families. I do have different clues, however, and they point to a pretty young age. Maybe as early as three, probably four at the latest. I'm not sure. I know that it was before Mom was going to "officially" start me in school. There were a couple subjects she let me pressure her into starting early, and they did involve reading. I really really wanted to be like my cool older brothers, and to do what they were doing.
Gracie doesn't have older brothers. And at public school, I'm pretty sure the cool kids don't love reading. As things stand right now, it's not unlikely that we'll put her in public school.
I'll be very very happy and proud of my daughter whether she learns to read at three or not. Of course. But it's weird to me to think of letting her schoolteachers teach her to read, rather than me teaching her.
On the other hand, I don't have much of an idea of how to teach someone to read, other than vague ideas about reading to them a lot. I seem to remember that's how my mother did it, but mostly I remember the early days of knowing how, not the days leading up to it. I don't remember having to learn my letters. It's all easy, right? Right?
Well, it's not something I'm very worried about at this point. Just a little different to think about. Parents passing on nerdiness, rather than siblings? That's a world I couldn't imagine as a child, despite my mother teaching me to read.
I agree with some other posts I've seen out there -- one way to teach a love of reading is to let kids read what they want (particularly liked this comment on that last link). On the other hand, I know firsthand that reverse psychology is another way -- give the kids a 7:00 bedtime and forbid them to read in bed! But I don't want to go that route.
What about you? How do you, did you, or would you impart a love of reading (or a love of anything else) to your children? What's one gift, one ability that your mother gave you, that you're particularly thankful for?
Tuesday, May 07, 2013
Planning for Success at Work
There's a book I think you should read, What the Most Successful People Do at Work: A Short Guide to Making Over Your Career by Laura Vanderkam. It's the third in this series by her, and I recommend the other two as well: What the Most Successful People Do Before Breakfast: A Short Guide to Making Over Your Mornings--and Life
and What the Most Successful People Do on the Weekend: A Short Guide to Making the Most of Your Days Off
.It's the third one, though, that came out recently, and that she's blogging about right now (yes, I also recommend her blog). And, most salient to me at the moment, she talked about and quoted me, as we've been emailing back and forth about a time makeover she was doing for me. You can go read about the importance of planning, here.
I'm not reviewing these books right now, that isn't the goal of this particular post; but I have to say, one of the things I love about them (and, again, her blog) is that they're very much based on real data. Here's what people actually do. Here's what actually seems to work. Here's how what people think they spend their time doing differs from what they actually do, as they discover when they keep time logs.
I'm logging my time again, third time I've done it now. I've decided I'd like to share this one publicly, but I'm not exactly live blogging it (it's not up yet, that link is to an example of a public time log, on Laura Vanderkam's site) -- I'd like to wait until I've added up totals before I write about each day, and that takes a little bit more time. (Though I recently discovered toggl, thanks to some blog comments, so I'm hoping it'll be faster now... just need to input the data, since I found the app after the fact.) But soon, I hope, I'll post the first day up here, my Wednesday of last week.
I don't want to bore you with details of my life just to hear myself talk, despite my blog's header. I'm hoping there are some things in my logs that could start some interesting conversations related to your lives, as much or as little as you'd like to share. I'm hoping that at the least sharing my logs can inspire you to track your time for a bit, too.
What do you think, want to join me in her challenges?
Thursday, April 11, 2013
The Eyre Affair
Installment #2 in the Book Reviews for Melanie series!
Yeah, I'm behind. To do two a month, I should do five more before much time passes...
Well, here's another quick, non-perfectionistic one to get the ball rolling. I started talking about The Eyre Affair on facebook, recommending it to Melanie, and it occurred to me that I should have said those things here, instead. So when I thought of more comments to add, I restrained myself. Melanie, here's the rest of what I have to say about it. Well, not the rest of what I have to say for all time and eternity, but you know. For the moment.
The Eyre Affair
(Thursday Next #1) by Jasper Fforde
Read: 2/12/13-2/18/13
Click here for my sister Sondy's review
The part from facebook:
So, I've only read the first one so far, The Eyre Affair, but I'm pretty sure it's among the most unique books I've read. It has... a bit of a familiar feel, but I think part of that is from the bits of the premise I've heard from other people. And partly because of the way anything really well done can feel familiar. I mean, it has time travel, alternate history (because of course! time travel!), a pliable barrier between fiction and reality occasionally allowing characters out and real people in, a world so full of bibliophiles that... well, put it this way:
"I was what we called an 'operative grad I' for SO-27, the Literary Detective Division of the Special Operations Network based in London. It's way less flash than it sounds. Since 1980 the big criminal gangs had moved in on the lucrative literary market and we had much to do and few funds to do it with."
Okay, since I started, a couple other amusing bits:
"'So Napoleon won at Waterloo, did he?' he asked slowly and with great intensity.
'Of course not,' I replied. 'Field Marshal Blücher's timely intervention saved the day.'
I narrowed my eyes.
'This is all O-level history, Dad. What are you up to?'
'Well, it's a bit of a coincidence, wouldn't you say?'
'What is?'
'Nelson and Wellington, two great English national heroes both being shot early on during their most important and decisive battles.'
'What are you suggesting?'
'That French revisionists might be involved.'
'But it didn't affect the outcome of either battle,' I asserted. 'We still won on both occasions!'
'I never said they were good at it.'"
Making this even more funny (to me, anyway), it's a bit of a throwaway scene, seemingly at least. Doesn't have much to do with the plot of this book, though it definitely could be setting up some things later.
"'I have lots of hobbies.'
'Name one.'
'Painting.'
'Really?'
'Yes, really. I'm currently painting a seascape.'
'How long has it taken you so far?'
'About seven years.'
'It must be very good.'
'It's a piece of crap.'"
"'Did the memory erasure device work, Uncle?'
'The what?'
'The memory erasure device. You were testing it when I last saw you.'
'Don't know what you're talking about, dear girl.'"
Technically I suppose it'd be fantasy or science fiction (with the time travel, and other things explained as science, SF I suppose), but it's normally shelved with general fiction, as it doesn't exactly feel like normal fantasy or sci-fi. But it's good. Invites comparisons to all sorts of other things, but isn't really quite like any of them. I think they're mostly brought up because it's unique, and thus hard to describe in the normal ways. So you have reviews that say things like, "...combines elements of Monty Python, Harry Potter, Stephen Hawking and Buffy the Vampire Slayer." (Wall Street Journal)
Now for the non-facebook part:
First, another fun quote:
"...Several people have asked me where I find the large quantity of prepositions that I need to keep my Bookworms fit and well. The answer is, of course, that I use omitted prepositions, of which, when mixed with dropped definite articles, make a nourishing food. There are a superabundance of these in the English language. Journey's end, for instance, has one omitted preposition and two definite articles: the end of the journey. There are many other examples, too, such as bedside (the side of the bed) and streetcorner (the corner of the street), and so forth. If I run short I head to my local newspapers, where omitted prepositions can be found in The Toad's headlines every day. As for the worm's waste products, these are chiefly composed of apostrophes--something that is becoming a problem--I saw a notice yesterday that read: Cauliflower's, three shilling's each..."
Personally, I find the beginning bit about "omitted prepositions" a little silly, as the other is a perfectly viable alternative genitive form. But the bit about the headlines is amusing, and I definitely like the bit about the apostrophes as waste products!
The book reminded me a little, I thought, of The Phantom Tollbooth
, but I wasn't very sure of that, as it's probably been decades since I've read it. (A problem to rectify, especially as it was one of my 2012 Christmas presents.) But I mentioned it to another friend who's read both, and she confirmed my suspicions. There are similarities. No wonder The Eyre Affair feels both so familiar and unique! Among other reasons.
Quite a whimsical, enjoyable book. Thoroughly fun. Especially the better you know your literature and history. I had a feeling there were many jokes I wasn't getting, but it works either way. Fforde scatters his jokes liberally, not pausing to make sure you get them, and there's no harm if you don't catch some. They only improve an already great read.
I like the style of the humor -- I thought the passages I quoted above were even more funny, given that, as I said for one of them, they were almost throwaway scenes, not made much of. He just goes on. After, "'Don't know what you're talking about, dear girl,'" they immediately talk about something completely different. It's awesome.
That style with the alternate history, too -- I love that we get Thursday's (the main character's) POV, not her father's (who time travels), and the changes are just things that seem normal to her. We don't even know her full "normal," how she'll react to her father's questions. Nor do we know which differences from our timeline will be a result of certain time tamperings, and which will be different before time travel actions. And which will just stay the way they are, or not be explained. It's all, as I said, pretty awesome. More than I'm making it sound.
I've heard some of the sequels are better, and I believe it -- don't get me wrong, this one is very good, but there's a feeling in it of potential, not fully tapped.
So go, read, have fun. I have so many books I'm in the middle of right now, but I really need to get my hands on the sequels.
Yeah, I'm behind. To do two a month, I should do five more before much time passes...
Well, here's another quick, non-perfectionistic one to get the ball rolling. I started talking about The Eyre Affair on facebook, recommending it to Melanie, and it occurred to me that I should have said those things here, instead. So when I thought of more comments to add, I restrained myself. Melanie, here's the rest of what I have to say about it. Well, not the rest of what I have to say for all time and eternity, but you know. For the moment.
The Eyre Affair
(Thursday Next #1) by Jasper FfordeRead: 2/12/13-2/18/13
Click here for my sister Sondy's review
The part from facebook:
So, I've only read the first one so far, The Eyre Affair, but I'm pretty sure it's among the most unique books I've read. It has... a bit of a familiar feel, but I think part of that is from the bits of the premise I've heard from other people. And partly because of the way anything really well done can feel familiar. I mean, it has time travel, alternate history (because of course! time travel!), a pliable barrier between fiction and reality occasionally allowing characters out and real people in, a world so full of bibliophiles that... well, put it this way:
"I was what we called an 'operative grad I' for SO-27, the Literary Detective Division of the Special Operations Network based in London. It's way less flash than it sounds. Since 1980 the big criminal gangs had moved in on the lucrative literary market and we had much to do and few funds to do it with."
Okay, since I started, a couple other amusing bits:
"'So Napoleon won at Waterloo, did he?' he asked slowly and with great intensity.
'Of course not,' I replied. 'Field Marshal Blücher's timely intervention saved the day.'
I narrowed my eyes.
'This is all O-level history, Dad. What are you up to?'
'Well, it's a bit of a coincidence, wouldn't you say?'
'What is?'
'Nelson and Wellington, two great English national heroes both being shot early on during their most important and decisive battles.'
'What are you suggesting?'
'That French revisionists might be involved.'
'But it didn't affect the outcome of either battle,' I asserted. 'We still won on both occasions!'
'I never said they were good at it.'"
Making this even more funny (to me, anyway), it's a bit of a throwaway scene, seemingly at least. Doesn't have much to do with the plot of this book, though it definitely could be setting up some things later.
"'I have lots of hobbies.'
'Name one.'
'Painting.'
'Really?'
'Yes, really. I'm currently painting a seascape.'
'How long has it taken you so far?'
'About seven years.'
'It must be very good.'
'It's a piece of crap.'"
"'Did the memory erasure device work, Uncle?'
'The what?'
'The memory erasure device. You were testing it when I last saw you.'
'Don't know what you're talking about, dear girl.'"
Technically I suppose it'd be fantasy or science fiction (with the time travel, and other things explained as science, SF I suppose), but it's normally shelved with general fiction, as it doesn't exactly feel like normal fantasy or sci-fi. But it's good. Invites comparisons to all sorts of other things, but isn't really quite like any of them. I think they're mostly brought up because it's unique, and thus hard to describe in the normal ways. So you have reviews that say things like, "...combines elements of Monty Python, Harry Potter, Stephen Hawking and Buffy the Vampire Slayer." (Wall Street Journal)
Now for the non-facebook part:
First, another fun quote:
"...Several people have asked me where I find the large quantity of prepositions that I need to keep my Bookworms fit and well. The answer is, of course, that I use omitted prepositions, of which, when mixed with dropped definite articles, make a nourishing food. There are a superabundance of these in the English language. Journey's end, for instance, has one omitted preposition and two definite articles: the end of the journey. There are many other examples, too, such as bedside (the side of the bed) and streetcorner (the corner of the street), and so forth. If I run short I head to my local newspapers, where omitted prepositions can be found in The Toad's headlines every day. As for the worm's waste products, these are chiefly composed of apostrophes--something that is becoming a problem--I saw a notice yesterday that read: Cauliflower's, three shilling's each..."
Personally, I find the beginning bit about "omitted prepositions" a little silly, as the other is a perfectly viable alternative genitive form. But the bit about the headlines is amusing, and I definitely like the bit about the apostrophes as waste products!
The book reminded me a little, I thought, of The Phantom Tollbooth
, but I wasn't very sure of that, as it's probably been decades since I've read it. (A problem to rectify, especially as it was one of my 2012 Christmas presents.) But I mentioned it to another friend who's read both, and she confirmed my suspicions. There are similarities. No wonder The Eyre Affair feels both so familiar and unique! Among other reasons.Quite a whimsical, enjoyable book. Thoroughly fun. Especially the better you know your literature and history. I had a feeling there were many jokes I wasn't getting, but it works either way. Fforde scatters his jokes liberally, not pausing to make sure you get them, and there's no harm if you don't catch some. They only improve an already great read.
I like the style of the humor -- I thought the passages I quoted above were even more funny, given that, as I said for one of them, they were almost throwaway scenes, not made much of. He just goes on. After, "'Don't know what you're talking about, dear girl,'" they immediately talk about something completely different. It's awesome.
That style with the alternate history, too -- I love that we get Thursday's (the main character's) POV, not her father's (who time travels), and the changes are just things that seem normal to her. We don't even know her full "normal," how she'll react to her father's questions. Nor do we know which differences from our timeline will be a result of certain time tamperings, and which will be different before time travel actions. And which will just stay the way they are, or not be explained. It's all, as I said, pretty awesome. More than I'm making it sound.
I've heard some of the sequels are better, and I believe it -- don't get me wrong, this one is very good, but there's a feeling in it of potential, not fully tapped.
So go, read, have fun. I have so many books I'm in the middle of right now, but I really need to get my hands on the sequels.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Pieces
Pieces
I saw pieces of my mother
in my home the other day.
I tried to put them back together,
but they wouldn't fit --
not the same way.
I saw pieces of my mother
and I tried to talk with them.
One conversed quite nicely,
but from others --
just a blank stare.
I found pieces of my mother,
and pieces,
and pieces.
No matter where I looked for her,
the whole just wasn't there.
I said something about pieces of her in a facebook conversation about my mother's dementia, and that inspired this poem. I'm not sure it's an accurate representation of my feelings, it's just the poem that came to me. Sorry if that's a cop-out.
An alternate first stanza that might reflect the truth a little better would be something like,
"I saw pieces of my mother
in my home the other day.
I didn't try to reassemble them --
knew they wouldn't fit --
wish I'd tried, all the same."
But I don't like the sound of that as much. The rhythm isn't quite right.
The rhymes and words are so simple, it seems a little odd in light of my last post on rhythm and rhyme. Odd in light of the fact that it's the sounds of the words that drove my writing, more than the feelings. It seems sort of like something a child would write. Like I would have written, as a child. Perhaps it's okay, a good juxtaposition with the subject matter? What do you think? I think it seems to work, in fact I'm growing quite fond and proud of it, but I'm biased. I can never see my own writing very clearly, with the same eyes that read everything else. Or at the most, it seems to take years of not looking at it.
This one appeared almost wholly formed in my mind at 1:30 in the morning about a month ago. I hate to say things like that, it contributes to an idea that writing is all about inspiration, rather than time and work. It's work, for a number of reasons. Enjoyable work that I can't keep myself from doing, but I also need to sit down at my desk and commit myself to get anywhere. As Philip Pullman says when asked where he gets his ideas from, “I don’t know where they come from, but I know where they come to: they come to my desk, and if I’m not there, they go away again.”
Nonetheless, this poem did more or less "appear." It was kind of like a quick slideshow -- I'd follow one line to see where it was going, and then the next would materialize. I suppose that's a part of the work of writing -- Kristin Cashore said she thinks Neil Gaiman said that "everyone has ideas, the difference with writers is that writers notice that they're having an idea."
It takes practice to notice, too (as reading more of the link above would corroborate). It takes writing to be on the lookout for writing ideas. (At least for me.)
I noticed a phrase repeating in my head that sounded a bit to me like a line from a poem: "I saw pieces of my mother," or maybe it was simply "pieces of my mother." I went from there. I got up out of bed and wrote it down, and crossed out words here and there, replaced some of them with others. And there it was.
Of course, talking about my writing process as though I am a writer, one of the ones Neil Gaiman was talking about... it sounds kind of arrogant, if you don't like the poem, if it doesn't work. If it does work, well... then maybe it's okay.
So, feedback? Do you like it? Any similar sorrows you're struggling with? Or tell me, what do you think about the balance between work and inspiration, not just in writing, but in any creative endeavor? Or about the balance of self-criticism? Is there something personal you've been wanting to share somewhere, but you're doubting yourself?
Judging by the number of questions here, maybe I'm trying to do too much with this post, and should be more focused. Meh.
To shift back a little to the poem's subject matter:
Let us pray for all who suffer and are afflicted in body or in mind;
For the hungry and the homeless, the destitute and the oppressed
For the sick, the wounded, and the crippled
For those in loneliness, fear, and anguish
For those who face temptation, doubt, and despair
For the sorrowful and bereaved
For prisoners and captives, and those in mortal danger
That God in his mercy will comfort and relieve them, and grant them the knowledge of his love, and stir up in us the will and patience to minister to their needs.
Gracious God, the comfort of all who sorrow, the strength of all who suffer: Let the cry of those in misery and need come to you, that they may find your mercy present with them in all their afflictions; and give us, we pray, the strength to serve them for the sake of him who suffered for us, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
-The Book of Common Prayer, from the Liturgy for Good Friday
I saw pieces of my mother
in my home the other day.
I tried to put them back together,
but they wouldn't fit --
not the same way.
I saw pieces of my mother
and I tried to talk with them.
One conversed quite nicely,
but from others --
just a blank stare.
I found pieces of my mother,
and pieces,
and pieces.
No matter where I looked for her,
the whole just wasn't there.
I said something about pieces of her in a facebook conversation about my mother's dementia, and that inspired this poem. I'm not sure it's an accurate representation of my feelings, it's just the poem that came to me. Sorry if that's a cop-out.
An alternate first stanza that might reflect the truth a little better would be something like,
"I saw pieces of my mother
in my home the other day.
I didn't try to reassemble them --
knew they wouldn't fit --
wish I'd tried, all the same."
But I don't like the sound of that as much. The rhythm isn't quite right.
The rhymes and words are so simple, it seems a little odd in light of my last post on rhythm and rhyme. Odd in light of the fact that it's the sounds of the words that drove my writing, more than the feelings. It seems sort of like something a child would write. Like I would have written, as a child. Perhaps it's okay, a good juxtaposition with the subject matter? What do you think? I think it seems to work, in fact I'm growing quite fond and proud of it, but I'm biased. I can never see my own writing very clearly, with the same eyes that read everything else. Or at the most, it seems to take years of not looking at it.
This one appeared almost wholly formed in my mind at 1:30 in the morning about a month ago. I hate to say things like that, it contributes to an idea that writing is all about inspiration, rather than time and work. It's work, for a number of reasons. Enjoyable work that I can't keep myself from doing, but I also need to sit down at my desk and commit myself to get anywhere. As Philip Pullman says when asked where he gets his ideas from, “I don’t know where they come from, but I know where they come to: they come to my desk, and if I’m not there, they go away again.”
Nonetheless, this poem did more or less "appear." It was kind of like a quick slideshow -- I'd follow one line to see where it was going, and then the next would materialize. I suppose that's a part of the work of writing -- Kristin Cashore said she thinks Neil Gaiman said that "everyone has ideas, the difference with writers is that writers notice that they're having an idea."
It takes practice to notice, too (as reading more of the link above would corroborate). It takes writing to be on the lookout for writing ideas. (At least for me.)
I noticed a phrase repeating in my head that sounded a bit to me like a line from a poem: "I saw pieces of my mother," or maybe it was simply "pieces of my mother." I went from there. I got up out of bed and wrote it down, and crossed out words here and there, replaced some of them with others. And there it was.
Of course, talking about my writing process as though I am a writer, one of the ones Neil Gaiman was talking about... it sounds kind of arrogant, if you don't like the poem, if it doesn't work. If it does work, well... then maybe it's okay.
So, feedback? Do you like it? Any similar sorrows you're struggling with? Or tell me, what do you think about the balance between work and inspiration, not just in writing, but in any creative endeavor? Or about the balance of self-criticism? Is there something personal you've been wanting to share somewhere, but you're doubting yourself?
Judging by the number of questions here, maybe I'm trying to do too much with this post, and should be more focused. Meh.
To shift back a little to the poem's subject matter:
Let us pray for all who suffer and are afflicted in body or in mind;
For the hungry and the homeless, the destitute and the oppressed
For the sick, the wounded, and the crippled
For those in loneliness, fear, and anguish
For those who face temptation, doubt, and despair
For the sorrowful and bereaved
For prisoners and captives, and those in mortal danger
That God in his mercy will comfort and relieve them, and grant them the knowledge of his love, and stir up in us the will and patience to minister to their needs.
Gracious God, the comfort of all who sorrow, the strength of all who suffer: Let the cry of those in misery and need come to you, that they may find your mercy present with them in all their afflictions; and give us, we pray, the strength to serve them for the sake of him who suffered for us, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
-The Book of Common Prayer, from the Liturgy for Good Friday
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