Posted by Kimberly on November 9th, 2007 — Posted in Kipple, Blah Blah Blog, NaBloPoMo
When I started NaBloPoMo I kinda made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t write “I like cheese” type posts (I try to save those for the other blog). That, however, was before I spent over an hour trying to get back into my account because the system kicked me out and I could not for the life of me either find the password or convince the system to give me a new one. While nowhere near the frustration Mir from Woulda Coulda Shoulda (I’d link, but lord only knows where you’d get redirected at this point) is dealing with, it’s enough to make me want to pack it in for tonight.
That is an incredibly frustrating feeling. In many ways, I consider the blogosphere to be a sort of virtual room of ones own. It’s that place that we all can go to and gather our thoughts and form them into something greater than the random bits of poop talk, kid stories, and celebrity gossip floating around our brains. Our blogs are the place that we go to speak and to be heard. They are where we get to create our identities to reflect the way we see ourselves and to shape our reality into a narrative that reflects and celebrates those selves. So when the room is locked, it’s not a good feeling.
It’s made even worse when the swirling pressures of home and work and family make you long for a room in which to escape. A room where the only sounds come from your fingers hitting the keyboard and your thoughts are calm and orderly as they spill onto the screen. Rather than say, two inches of mouse space on a desk piled high with permission slips, children’s books, Hallowe’en chip bags and Coke cans–an island of insanity set amid the swirling sea of childish chaos that is your toy strewn livingroom. Where the children hover like vultures, always circling, waiting to pounce in distraction and demand the second you are engaged in meaningful work of your own. Where your quiet, rational internal dialogue is replaced by irrational tantrums over the laws of physics and a series of escalating threats over bedtime.
So, now that I’m finally here, I find that tonight, at least, this room is still closed to me.
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Posted by Kimberly on November 1st, 2007 — Posted in The Ladies, Kipple, Blah Blah Blog, No Pudding Until You Finish Your Meat, NaBloPoMo
I’m still coming off of last night’s sugar rush–both mine and The Ladies–so today’s entry is going to be more of a bunch of unrelated snippets than a cohesive narrative.
Trick or treating was a little strange for us this year. Because I only take The Ladies to houses I know and our route is designed so that we end up at Grandma’s house, we ending up cruising the “old neighbourhood” surrounding Diva Girl’s former school. I used to do this trip four times a day, minimum, but I have to confess, the walk to her old school just about kicked my ass. Other than that it was mostly a treat, seeing the familiar faces we’ve been missing since we stopped hanging out on this side of the street. More often than not The Ladies were greeted with hugs to go along with their Hershey’s Kisses and more than one mom slipped them an extra helping of candy before we headed off to the next house.
Negotiating the Old Babysitter’s house was a bit tricky, though. I thought it would be weird to make The Ladies skip it altogether, especially since we don’t really go to all that many houses, and in past years she’s just left a bowl full of candy on the porch while she and Buddy went out, so I figured it wouldn’t be too much of a drama. I was wrong. When we turned on to their street we could see the bowl sitting there, waiting for the pirates and princesses roaming the neighbourhood to help themselves. Unfortunately, we could also see Buddy and the Babysitter in the window. Which wasn’t the most awkward part. That came when The Zen Baby admonished, loud enough for all the assorted trick or treaters and their chaperones to hear, “You stay back here, Mummy. We don’t want you to get into another big fight with Buddy’s Mom!” before running up to collect her candy. I have never in my life wished so hard that I was wearing a costume that included a full facemask. She made up for it when she offered to share her candy with me though. Poor, naive child. She has no idea that I’m totally going to steal it while she’s sleeping.
On the school front, Diva Girl’s teacher apologized to her yesterday. I hadn’t yet stormed the office filled with righteous maternal indignation (the principal was away at a conference), and with this new development I have to rethink that approach. If she hadn’t acknowledged that she’d been wrong in preventing Diva Girl from calling home I would have been all over demanding a meeting (and possibly her head on a platter), but she did and that changes things.
At this point I think I’m comfortable sending an email (cc’d to the principal) that at least on the surface seeks to inform and not blame in this situation. Although I’m pretty sure they’ll get the threat implied in the statement, “should this situation occur again, Sabrina will most likely have to wait until I can make the 2 bus trip up to the school to get her.” As to the custody stuff, I’m still undecided. One of the sucky things about changing schools is having to run through all the solo mom stuff again–mail addressed to “Mr. & Mrs. Rastin,” fielding the “where’s your dad?” questions, and explaining de facto custody. I may just save that one for the Parent-Teacher interview.
I’m sorry that this isn’t the best start ever to NaBloPoMo, but I promise I’ll try and do better from now on. Oh, and speaking of NaBloPoMo, did you see the snazzy badge over there in the sidebar? I put it there all by myself and I didn’t even break the blog. It doesn’t link to the actual site, but you know, baby steps. I’m not convinced that NaBloPoMo itself is a baby step, or even a good idea for me–I’ve never been very good with either deadlines or self discipline–but I’m trying to break out of the box a little this year and try some personal growth. Sure, it’s nearly a decade too late to help me with that procrastination problem I had in University, but I like to believe that every prof who ever granted me an extension (which would, um, be every prof I ever had) is cheering me on.
I wonder if moving the old Sanity and the Solo Mom archives over here counts as posting? No? I didn’t think so. Still, I’ll be doing that this month, so if your feed reader starts going crazy, just relax. I’m not going to bring everything over–the work to rule memes and the Daily Mom content can languish in whatever sort of internet purgatory iVillage deems appropriate–but there are many posts that I’m proud of and would hate to lose. They’re not letting me bring the comments though, so if you happen to see something in the old stuff that catches your fancy, feel free.
I’m off to raid the peanut butter cups.
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Posted by Kimberly on October 29th, 2007 — Posted in Kipple, Blah Blah Blog
Back when I first started writing for iVillage one of the major perks of the job was the fact that not only were they paying me, they were paying me in American Money!
American money is big thing to Canadians because our entire consumer lives are dictated by it. We’re big fans of cross border shopping, for example, because goods in Canada are priced to reflect the mark up that comes from purchasing from the manufacture in a lower dollar; essentially that means that oftentimes it’s cheaper to buy things in the States, even when you factor in the exchange rate.
And when you get paid in American money, it means that you’re essentially getting a $25-$30 bonus every month (well, the months that they bothered to send the cheques, anyway).
Or at least, that’s the way it used to be. Ever since this summer, however, there’s been a change in the dynamic. Our dollar has been climbing, which means that when you gp to buy American money for that cross border trip, you spend less of your own. That’s pretty cool. Unfortunately, it doesn’t really translate into lower prices on this side, making cross border shopping even more attractive than usual.
But that’s not the worst part. Not even my dwindling bonus is the worst part. After all, I did agree to work for $250 a month, so I can’t really complain that that’s what I got paid. Today, however, I’m complaining. Because today, that lovely American money is worth .95 on the Canadian dollar.
Not only do I have to submit to the joy that is The Daily Mom experience, not only do I have to put up with comments on my posts being sent to the Junk folder for no reason, now I’m taking a paycut for the privilege of appearing on the same page as Funny Mom as well????
Salt? Meet wound.
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Posted by Kimberly on October 28th, 2007 — Posted in Kipple, Blah Blah Blog
Once upon a time, Mommy Blogs Toronto asked me to write a single mom column for them. You can imagine how excited I was, since the MBT writers are wicked cool. Plus, any time I get to address the stereotypes that surround single motherhood and bring a different voice to the table, I am so there.
Or, well, I would be, if I had a name. Can’t have a column without a name. That would be weird.
I used to have a name. Parenting Without A License was a supposed to be an MBT blog. But then iVillage went to the Daily Mom format and you guys know the rest. So, here I am with an awesomely named (if perpetually under construction) blog with a wicked tagline, which is great. But I have nothing for MBT, which is not. Because even though I claim to be an outsider and whatever, I really, really want to be part of MBT (see above re: Wicked cool chicks).
So I decided to run a contest on iVillage to get a name. But my comments on iVillage are at best described as wonky–as in, most of them apparently don’t actually show up on site for whatever reason. That’s where this post comes in. If you’ve popped by from iVillage, this is where you give me your brilliant suggestion. If you haven’t popped in from iVillage (and I know some of you are boycotting, which is cool) this is where you don’t get left out.
Can’t wait to see what you guys come up with. Cuz frankly, I got nuthin’.
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Posted by Kimberly on October 21st, 2007 — Posted in Just Like Riding A Bicycle, The Man I Didn't Marry, Blah Blah Blog
Red alert! Red Alert! Danger Will Robinson! Danger! Danger!
This is why I don’t drink.
Apparently, feeling all relaxed and good about the world, I really, really let my guard down. I was prepared to go into the past. To talk about things that we never really talked about before. To finally talk about why I had to give the ring back, and why I couldn’t just postpone the wedding instead of calling it off. But I wasn’t prepared to to give The Man I Didn’t Marry an all access pass to my life. Which I did.
I gave him the url for Parenting Without A License.
Yeah, I don’t know why I did that either. I mean, it’s not like I’m blogging anonymously anymore; I am googleable now.. And the url is listed in my Facebook profile. But The Man I Didn’t Marry is not the most computer savvy guy and while there was definitely a trail of breadcrumbs, I doubt he would have bothered to follow it. A big, blinking neon sign is a whole different story, however. Anybody would follow that.
And before you all start rushing to reassure me that it’s all ok, that I’m probably blowing this all out of proportion, that he won’t bother to go read my blog, he already has. I know that, because he told me. And he commented.
I’m trying to decide how I feel about this new development. Does it really change things? Lots of people I know read my blog–my parents, my family (Hi Aunt Debbie!), various RL friends….Heck, Diva Girl’s biological father reads (long story, and no, not one I’m going to tell you. Not even when the ink dries on the court orders). So, does this make all that much of a difference? I don’t know. I hope not.
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Posted by Kimberly on October 17th, 2007 — Posted in Kipple, Blah Blah Blog
Eden dared me to do that. This post really has nothing to do with penises, penile enhancement, or really anything penile. It does, however, deal with being a dick.
Everybody knows that while blogging is about the outlet, the chance to get your thoughts and ideas out there, the comments matter. Nobody likes feeling like they’re shouting into the void, and the comments let us know that we’re not. That we’re part of our very own self-selected communities. That there’s someone listening who understands, and who cares about what we have to say. And that’s why spammers really suck. They get your hopes up that someone is listening, that what you said actually struck a chord somewhere, and then you find out that you just happened to use a key word–like lets say “ortho” or “depo” or “typhoid”…”viagra”…”penis”…”boob”…that causes the spambots to start circling your posts like vultures around a wildebeast.
I’m getting a lot of spam these days. More spam than comments, actually. Which, frankly, sucks. There are few things more demoralizing (in the bloggy world, anyway) to see you’ve got 15 new comments, only to find out that 14 of them are ads for cialis and at home hypnotism, and some penile enhancement device that I really don’t want to think about too deeply. I mean, I’m still thrilled and excited by that lone comment, but by the time I’m done deleting the rest I’m so annoyed that it feels like some of the shiny has been rubbed off.
So, I’m thinking of turning on some sort of comment moderation. I’m torn about it, especially since I spent a good couple of months sending out humiliating, “Hi! Your blog thinks I’m spam but I swear that I am in fact an upstanding member of the blogging community who has just left and intelligent and insightful comment on your post so please please please take me out of the filter!” messages after WordPress decided that I was persona non grata. But I’m also sick of the tramadol people posting comments 17 times a day. I don’t want to control the conversation or impose some sort of police state on the comments–I’m a big believer of the Greater Fuckwad Theory of the Internet (and also Rule 34, but that’s a completely different post)–but I do want the spamming to end.
Oh, and speaking of fuckwads and imposing a police state, is anyone else having trouble with commenting over on iVillage? I’ve had at least half a dozen emails asking me what’s happened to someone’s comment and my honest answer is “I don’t know; I’m just the blogger.” If there’s comment moderation going on, nobody told me. But then again, the last memo I got was, “you’re fired.” so I don’t think I’m exactly in the loop. I do think it’s odd though, that comments like Nat’s are being published, but longtime commenters are having theirs held. So, I’m asking you, is there something weird going on with the comments over there? Is that why I’m hardly getting any? Because I didn’t want to say anything, but holy radio silence, Batman!
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Posted by Kimberly on October 9th, 2007 — Posted in Oncology Odyssey, Blah Blah Blog
All four of you.
Just a little PSA to let you know that that whack of entries that showed up in your feed over the weekend isn’t exactly new content. The entries–all filed under Oncology Odyssey–are the chronicle of Regan’s Tumour. They came from a now defunct blog and are posted here because they’re special to me.
So, don’t freak out. The Zen Baby is fine. Feel free to read the entries though; it’ll give a lot of insight into the ways I talk about (and parent) my youngest daughter.
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Posted by Kimberly on March 15th, 2007 — Posted in The Ladies, Kipple, Blah Blah Blog, iVillage
One of the perks of being a teacher is that you share holidays with your school age children. Not only does it cut down on the daycare costs to be off at the same time, it also opens up the vacation possibilities. Unfortunately, circumstances over the past few years (birth of a baby, tumour, and poverty in consecutive years) have prevented me from taking advantage of the opportunity and going on holiday over March Break.
This year, though, circumstances are different: No one is being born or having major surgery, and I’ve been working fairly steadily this past month. Steadily enough that when my parents suggested that we get away for a couple of days, I was able to leap at the offer. I think I was as excited as the Ladies at the prospect of hitting the open road and heading out into adventure, which is how I found myself wedged in the backseat of my parents’ car with the booster seat, the car seat, and the dvd player, heading of to Niagara Falls.
Not exactly your traditional vacation spot for a Canadian family on a March Break getaway, and it certainly had the potential to end very badly: Vast expanses of water, Marineland, and one of of the tallest ferris wheels in North America–pretty much all of my greatest fears, conveniently located in a few blocks radius from our hotel. However, from our room overlooking the dinosaur mini golf on campy Clifton Hill to the butterfly conservatory, to the absolutely perfect weather for walking the Falls, it was a perfect trip. The Ladies even got to ride the dreaded skywheel, and I didn’t even have to take them. My dad, forever cementing his position as Best. Grampa. EVER. took them up. My dad, who hasn’t been on a ferris wheel in roughly 30 years–ever since vowing “never again” after taking me up on one. Ah, the things we do for love.
Traveling with my parents again after so many years brought back memories of many other trips sandwiched into the back of many other cars. Some, like the tour around the Great Lakes as a sullen teenager who would have much rather stayed home, and made no bones about it, came back with total clarity. Others, like a half-remembered ride on a ferris wheel, crouching in terror behind my brother’s legs, or the dreamlike impression of pink elephant footprints that my mother assures me signify a trip to the Detroit Zoo, are so hazy as to be almost mythical. All of them are treasured, though; reminders of a childhood that was filled with adventure, love, and large older brothers crowding the backseat.
I wasn’t sure how it was going to be, travelling with The Ladies, and I’ll admit I was pleasantly surprised. The novelty of the attractions cut down on a lot of the whining I think, and, thanks to that portable dvd player, we were only treated to a couple of courses of “Are We There Yet?” sung in the Key of Diva. Having my parents along also meant that I got to spend some one on one time, something that doesn’t often happen when you’re a solo mom with two kids. But with Gramma and Grampa there to wrangle the Toddler Formerly Known As Zen (I am in deep denial and refuse to acknowledge her new preschooler status), I was able to spend some one on one time with Diva Girl, watching her strut her stuff in the pool and hanging out on Clifton Hill after dark were highlights of the trip not for the huge excitement or fun factor of the activity, but because it gave us a chance to just have fun together without any distractions. And, cute though she is, making sure that the Baby doesn’t drown in the pool is nothing if not distracting.
I’m so very glad I took my mom up on her suggestion of a March Break getaway. The escape from our ordinary lives was a refreshing change of pace, and a far more pleasant way to spend the week than refereeing sibling wars, negotiating tv time, and generally dealing with the fallout of a week of disrupted routine. Sure, the routine was disrupted anyway–it’s not everyday that Regan naps while touring the Falls–but it’s somehow easier to take when it’s my choice, and not the inevitable fallout of having Sabrina home for more than a couple of days at a time.
Pleasant though our flight from reality was, we’re back in the real world now. The world of responsibilities, deadlines, mealtimes, and laundry. I’ll try to do the Bookclub post tomorrow or Saturday at the latest, but I won’t apologize for the delay; I wouldn’t have missed those rainbows for the world.
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Posted by Kimberly on February 23rd, 2007 — Posted in Diva Girl, Kipple, Blah Blah Blog, iVillage
There are many things I love about blogging. The immediacy of it. The opportunity to express ideas both silly and serious. The conversations that spring up and the sense of community that gets created with bloggers and readers.
I’ve met some very cool people through blogging. People I never would have had a chance to meet without an internet connection and a chance to speak. Although it’s a little frustrating to make even more friends who live thousands of miles away from me, it’s also exciting and strangely satisfying. It’s odd, having these friends I’ve never met, but it’s comforting as well.
Tonight was not a good night chez solo mom. It was a very bad night on the heels of a difficult day where Diva Girl was off school and seemingly hell bent on making my life a living hell. One of those days where if I said “up,” she would say “down.” If I spent half an hour cleaning a room, she’d follow behind me and in 30 seconds make it look like I hadn’t done a thing. By 8 o’clock, I was ready to kill her, and she wasn’t too fond of me, either.
And then Kate popped up online. If you read the comments, you know Kate. She’s a solo mum from New Zealand who always has a kind word or a funny anecdote to share. She’s been one of my most loyal readers since this blog started, and she’s also become a friend.
When Kate asked “how’s your day been?” the damn burst and I poured out all of the day’s frustrations. I told her about Diva Girl’s inability to appreciate my need to clean up the crap on my floor, about her inability to appreciate the difference between beside the garbage and in the garbage, about my inability to keep from yelling at her for it. And Kate said, “put her on with me.” She didn’t judge. Didn’t tsk. Didn’t lecture or make me feel worse than I already did. She said, “go make yourself a hot chocolate and let me talk to Diva Girl.” Then, for the next 20 minutes, she struggled through my 8 year old daughter’s hunt and peck typing. She joked with her, gently chastised her for making her mother mental, and brought calm to my chaotic home, all from a world away.
I am very lucky to have this blog. To have a place where I can stay connected to old friends and make new ones. I’m lucky to have this life–crap strewn rug and all–and people I’ve never even met to share it with. And that’s what I love most about blogging.
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Posted by Kimberly on February 15th, 2007 — Posted in Kipple, Blah Blah Blog, iVillage
Not my house. Those Cheerios can stay there until I darn well feel like vacuuming them. And I think Nyx is doing a fabulous job of sweeping up all that glitter. Plus, everyone still has clean underwear, so the laundry can still wait. No, this is blog housekeeping–clearing up a few things.
First off, The Plagiarist: I found her because I was checking out technorati links after reading about the latest scraper over at Mary P’s. There was a link to her blog, and if you’ve ever linked to me, you know that eventually I figure it out and show up to say “Hi!” So I wandered over to check it out, and low and behold, an entire post of mine, cut and pasted into her MySpace and passed off as her own. Not cool.
Even less cool was deleting the comment I left asking about it and setting her blog to private, all the while ignoring me. As if I was going to go away. Thus began a rather heated exchange.
Her first position was this:
i told you i did not go to your blog and copy what you wrote… even if i was to give you credit for it i would even know what to put cause i don’t know you nor have i even been to ivilliage…
After I provided a PDF of her plagiarized site and a link to my post, proving that it was mine, her tune changed a little:
i have decided to remove your words from my blog… i do see that you posted it and appologize that that your work was copied… but i see nowhere on there where you have copywritted your work…
While I essentially got what I wanted–for her to stop stealing my content–I had a few problems with that response.
1) She “decided” to remove my words for her blog. As though she’s doing me a favour and not because she got a violation of TOS notice from MySpace and a sternly worded email from the iVillage lawyer.
2) She “sees that my work was posted and apologizes that my work was copied.” Notice how she never takes responsibility? How she implies that magical beings must have come in the night and c&p’d my content into her site–sort of like the blogger equivalent of the Shoemaker and His Elves.
3) She “sees nowhere that I’ve copyrighted my work” Because that “all rights reserved notice”down at the bottom applies to everyone but her, apparently.
So, essentially, the whole thing irritated me. And I don’t know why you would would want to irritate a blogger, because you know the first thing they’re going to do is blog about it.
Now, The Bookclub….Here’s what I’m thinking:
In about 3 weeks, I’m going to do a post about Single Mom Seeking. What I thought of it, what questions and issues it brought up for me, that sort of thing. Then, if you have a blog, you post your review on your blog, and leave a link to it in my comments. Don’t worry if you don’t have a blog (although, seriously, what are you, the last person on earth without a blog???) ; if you don’t have your own blog, you can post your review, thoughts, and questions here in the comments.
I’ll give everyone about a week to post–that’ll let you slackers out there who never finish the book on time to have a chance to participate. I’m sure Rachel will be reading along, but after the week’s up, I’ll gather up the questions and Rachel and I will sit down and have a chat (and maybe a beverage). Then I’ll write up the interview and post it.
What do you think? Personally, I’m kind of excited. And if it works out well, I’d be willing to consider making bookclub a regular feature (Rachel’s writing a sequel, you know!).
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