Signs, Signs, Everywhere Are Signs

Recently, my on again/off again blog momentum has given me lots of things to think about. I began coming to the conclusion that maybe it was just time to hang it up, because the stress of worrying about not blogging regularly was making me unhappy. I have for a while wanted to get out of the mommy/parenting niche, mostly because my kids are getting older and I don't want to potentially embarrass them. More than they probably already are. Plus, I am finding myself drawn to exploring other topics and don't know how to keep the same blog going in a bunch of directions and not seem chaotic. And since chaos is about my least favorite thing ever, the conclusion that I came to was that I just need to let the whole thing go.

So I decided that I would announce my departure to all tens of you who still are interested. Then my insecurities flared up and started whispering about how absolutely no one would care and WHY do you think your navel gazing tendencies would interest anyone etc. Let me tell you, being inside my head is just not good for anyone involved. I don't really recommend it. How self-absorbed ARE you, Rebeccah? Seriously. Gah.  See? Not good.

But.

Then it was yesterday. And in not one, not two, but three different places things like this happened:

"You fail only if you stop writing." ~ Ray Bradbury Beth Duke

's post. She is a lovely southern fiction author who is currently stumped on her next book adventure.

Then this from my Internet soul sister Glennon at Momastery:

"Dismiss the voices of perfection and competition. They are loud but quite unenlightened. They’d have you waste your entire life."

And finally this from my literary hero Cheryl Strayed:

"Going through a drawer I found the submissions/applications log I've kept off and on over the years. Just in case you think it's all been roses I'd like to report that Yaddo rejected me (as recently as 2011). McDowell rejected me. Hedgebrook rejected me twice. The Georgia Review rejected me and Ploughshares rejected me and Tin House rejected me, as did about twenty other journals and magazines. Both The Sun and The Missouri Review rejected me before I appeared in their pages. Literary Arts declined to give me a fellowship three times before I won one. I've applied for an NEA five times and it's always been a no. Harper's magazine never even bothered to reply. I say it all the time but I'll say it again: keep on writing. Never give up. Rejection is part of a writer's life. Then, now, always."

Hmm. I begin thinking to myself that maybe, just maybe, these are signs that I am heading down the wrong path by wanting to pull the plug on my blog. Which, by the way, is OLD in internet years. I am an online granny at the ripe old age of 7. This is both good and bad because I see others who have huge, thriving blog communities that have been doing this for two or three years and I think, what the hell. I am considered by most to be a decent writer with an honest and compassionate "voice", so why them and not me? I don't really know. What I want/ed most for this blog is to be a community. I am not worried about making a living on it. I just want to talk with people and share ideas and information. And yes, sometimes talk about our feelings and big important life things. Oh, and books too. Especially books.

But that hasn't happened. And I cannot really figure out why. And that is partially what brought me to the place where I was at the beginning of this post. And last night when I went to sleep, this was all very heavy on my mind. But here is the dream I had, and this is a big deal to me, because I rarely remember my dreams at all, let alone dream in color. 

I'm on my way to feed the horses at LEARN and I have stopped to have something to eat at some random place. The server is at the table next to me and when I look over at her, it is Glennon. I of course react ridiculously and immediately crush her tiny self with a huge hug and insist that she leaves her waitress job to come with me to feed and pet the horses. So, we go do that and the day is beautiful and we have a wonderful time. On our way out, she takes a phone call and says, "oh, my friend Jenny The Bloggess wants to meet you." At this point I woke myself up because my dream car driving was getting a little unsafe due to my level of hysterical excitement. 

Now. I'm no shrink but I awoke pretty sure my subconscious is all, "Awwww hail no you big sissy! Sit. Your. Punk. Ass. Down. And. Write. Something. NOW." Yes, I do believe I will. 

Thank you, Yesterday, it was just what I needed.

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Would The Real Charleston Please Stand Up?

One blazing August some years back, I began my career as a student at the University Of South Carolina in Columbia. I knew barely anyone, as a very large proportion of my friends had stayed in Charleston to attend CofC. So I began trying to get to know the other girls on my dorm floor. Everyone was pretty nice for the most part, but one person really seemed to just flat-out dislike me. I found this confusing, and finally asked someone else what this person’s problem was. Her reply?  “Oh, she thinks that you are stuck-up because you are from Charleston.”  Me: “What are you talking about?!  She doesn’t even know me!”

Y'all. I grew up in the suburbs of West Ashley in a regular neighborhood of brick ranch homes. My dad worked for the railroad. My mom was a homemaker. I went to a public high school that just happened to have a fancy name. There is nothing about my upbringing or temperament that would make someone concur that I am stuck up in any way. However, this young lady’s perception seemed to be that everyone from Charleston was some kind of rich snob, when nothing could be further from the truth. Sure, there is an elite here—but show me a city where there isn't one, really?


Recently, I have been paying closer attention to the general public’s perception of Charleston, especially given all the accolades the city has received in the last year or so. Charleston truly is beautiful beyond belief, has an amazing food culture, vast historical significance, and is located in an amazing little spot on the planet. But it seems that many people’s perception is that Charleston is only the historic district on the peninsula and that we all live lives of idyll bliss whilst sipping mint juleps on the veranda. (Not that I would turn that down given the opportunity.)

  Here is another example. Our friends over at Charleston City Paper recently held a photography contest. The issue that followed the contest had some comments that people had written regarding the outcome. I’m summarizing here, but one person basically made the statement that he thought it was supposed to be about Charleston, and all those pictures were from the suburbs. The eewwww was implied.

Newsflash bro, Charleston city limits include some suburbs. Yes, some of those places look like Anywhere USA, but they belong too, verandas notwithstanding. To be perfectly fair, the first non-native Charleston residents actually lived in West Ashley before building on a swamp that we now call downtown.

To be perfectly honest, I think I have to put more than a little bit of blame for this on the media. The idea of this Charleston versus the one where so many of us live is kind of weird, if you ask me. Yes, some of our residents do live like that but others, like almost everyone I know, live in various levels of suburban hell and sometimes shop at Food Lion.  And some of us even own plantations, which brings me to my last example, one that I heard about only yesterday. Apparently, there is going to be a new reality show on Bravo called "Southern Charm." Here is the description of the show, from Bravo’s website.

"The notoriously closed society of Charleston, South Carolina unlocks the gates of their centuries-old plantation homes for a real-life look at how modern-day Southern aristocracy lives. Get charmed by the social scene which is bound by tradition and ostentation unlike any other culture in America, through a group of the city’s most charismatic gentlemen and their Southern belle equals."

Okaaaaaay.

Local Thomas Ravenel is going to be on the show. People have all kinds of opinions about this guy but I don’t know him. I have never met him, so I’m not going to offer an opinion about him as a person. But again, the romanticized image of Charleston (and so many other places in the South) as perpetuated by the media is really more what I’m trying to get my head around. Beautiful, historic and amazing Charleston also has suburbs. And crime and poverty and bland strip malls and even brick ranch houses. Instead, there seems to be only two sides of Southern life portrayed—the Honey Boo Boo and "Myrtle Manor" category and the Gone With The Wind and "Southern Charm" niche. These are both very real things—they are just not ALL the things… Charleston is way more interesting than that.

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Gardening For Dummies. Where We Talk About What NOT To Do.

We are once again, trying to have a small summer garden. Last year went pretty okay - we had several varieties of tomatoes, yard long green beans (yes, that is a thing), and peppers that were too hot to eat. Despite my best efforts to kill everything, a large portion of it survived and came to fruition.

I made several mistakes with this garden though, so it is only by sheer dumb luck that we got anything at all. It is both a blessing and a curse to be "goal oriented" rather than "process oriented". I will leave it to you to decide which one of these things you think I might be.

Firstly, I added fertilizer to the already fertilized soil we bought, apparently subscribing to the "if a little is good, a lot must be better" school of thought. This resulted in yellow plants about three days after putting them in. With lots of theatrical cursing and sighing, we pulled everything out, dug out the bulk of the dirt, added straight topsoil, mixed it up again, and crossed our fingers. Miraculously, the little seedlings managed to survive, returned back to their lovely shades of green and started growing again.

Undaunted by my first error in judgement, my next trick was to try to use organic methods to control pests. Noticing some bugs on my now well established and thriving plants, I took to the ol innerweb to find some good home remedies in order to avoid using pesticide. One of the first things I ran across was to use liquid soap and water as a spray repellent. I can do that, I thought to myself, of course not taking the time to read the entire data set. Grabbing the Dawn dish detergent from the kitchen, I mixed up my concoction and proceed to drown all the plants in the mixture. Walked away from this feeling quite smug. Two days later, the plants looked like someone had been hovering nearby with a blow torch. Apparently dish detergent, while indeed liquid, is definitely not the same thing as liquid soap.

This misstep required a fair amount of dedication to rectify. But at this point I was invested, dammit. And my obstinate natured self wasn't going down without a fight. It took about three weeks of serious babying, but once again, the unlucky plants that we brought to our house managed to survive. We picked off the dying leaves, but not too many at once, we added mulch to help them fight the hot South Carolina sun, we I even considered doing some sort of ancient earth goddess dance. Fortunately, nature turned out to be more resilient than I am destructive, so they made it. 

I did learn some stuff throughout all of this. One, the yellow pear tomato may very well be the most delicious food in the world. Two, be sure to plant enough of the same plant so that you have yields that can feed more than just one person, especially if you are a family of four. Three, do not plant purple jalapenos unless you like insanely hot food. (they are a gorgeous plant though - all red and green and purple) Four, don't be a dumbass like me and get all cray-cray with the chemicals. Do some real research or ask someone who actually has had a successful garden.  Five, everyone should try the yard long pole beans. Delicious, prolific growers that are basically idiot proof, which is why they not only survived but thrived whilst climbing our humble chain link fence.

Anyway, we begin again today. Here is where we have gotten so far:

I think the wrecked plane in the background is a fair indicator, don't you?

Stay tuned. :-)

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5 Things I'd Like to Never Hear Again

Banning words, like banning books, has a distinctly Big Brother kind of feel. However, the world may very well become a more harmonious place if we could agree to never touch on the following talking points again. Put a fork in them, they are done.

I present to you a list of words and phrases I would personally like to never, ever hear again.

"Mommy Wars"
Listen, one of the best pieces of advice I got upon becoming a parent went like this: "Don't start none, won't be none." No, no, that's not right. It was Will Smith who said that in a movie, I think. The good advice actually went like this: "If you don't make it a thing, it won't be a thing." Basically, if you don't make a huge deal of every little boo boo, or lose your mind when baby bites you, typically the intrigue of repeating said behavior will diminish. Hopefully. This is not a fail-proof plan obviously, but it does have a large amount of merit.

Similarly, someone needs to tell everyone and anyone to STOP IT with this whole "Mommy Wars" thing (originally referring to the stay-at-home vs. working-mom sets, and has evolved to included a whole array of parenting choices). Stirring the pot does nothing to help. If people would quit pointing out the so-called Mommy Wars and writing about the Mommy Wars and inflaming the Mommy Wars then maybe, just maybe, the Mommy Wars would at least reach some kind of detente, if not cease to exist entirely.

Because here's the thing: as long as your kid is mostly healthy, mostly happy, and mostly well taken care of, I'm not going to worry about what you are doing. Breast, bottle, work outside the home, work from home, work in the home, helicopter, free range, etc. This whole country needs a big dose of Mind Your Own Business, and I think women would do themselves a serious favor to knock off the nitpicking of each other. How about we do our personal best and leave our noses where it belongs—on our own faces and not in our neighbors' houses.

"Super Mom"
Y'all, super mom is super tired. There are indeed those among us who are capable of having a fabulous career making loads of money, keeping a spotless house, shuttling children around to various activities, parenting perfectly 'round the clock without losing their tempers, enjoying wine night with our girlfriends, keeping a hard-core workout regimen, and also have regular dates/smoking hot sex with our significant others. These people may also very well be heavily medicated. Or not. They may actually just be that bad ass.

Personally, I am not. I am good at doing one or two, maybe three, things well at a time. My main focus over the last decade has been my family, so I'm a little—no, a lot—behind in the career department. And while I did indeed achieve laundry end game last weekend, now it is stacked up all over my bedroom. And I fell asleep in my son's bed last night at 8:45, so you can do the math on the smoking sexy time department. The point is, by holding up these Super Mom examples of how it should be, it makes a lot of us feel like Loser Mom, even when we are doing the best we can and would take a bullet for our loved ones any day of the week and twice on Sundays. I'd like to go back to just being Mom, if that's all the same to everyone.

"Having it All"
I'm not sure it is truly possible to have all of anything. You can be the wealthiest person in the whole world, but you do not have ALL the money. I hoard chocolate at my desk, but I don't have all of it. Working on that...shhh. And maybe the Super Moms from above do have it all, but I have to think that there is a price paid somewhere, which means that you do not truly have it all, because you paid some of it away.

Which brings me to another good piece of advice I got a long time ago: you can have anything you want, as long as you are willing to pay for it. One way or another, life will extract a price somehow, somewhere, for the choices we make. This is just how it is. This whole "having it all" thing was a great idea in theory, when women were fighting their way out of the kitchen and into the workplace. Then we GOT it all and some of us are now completely crazy because we are pulled in 10,000 directions at a time. I may be speaking for myself, but I don't want it all. I just want some of it. All is a lot, and for some us, also kinda unattainable. So can we not do that anymore? It's wearing me out.

"Real" Women
Unless my high school biology lessons have let me down, the last time I checked, anyone with two X chromosomes qualifies as a real woman. Some people with a Y chromosome may also, but that is a different blog post entirely, so we are just gonna stick with the traditional female for now. Real women have curves, right? Well, at my current size 10, I have a little bit of curves. But I've also been a size four hard body from playing three different sports and riding horses. Am I any less a real woman when I'm skinny? I don't think so.

This whole categorizing of women being "real" or not is just stupid. People, women included, come in so many different shapes, sizes, colors, skin tones, hair colors, etc., and we spend so much time teaching our kids how "everyone is different" and "you are special" and "variety is the spice of life" and so forth, so why do we want to narrow down the definition of a woman? I realize that the real woman thing is in large part a backlash to certain ideals that have caused a fair amount of damage to the at large perception of women. But again, I don't like broad definitions of people, so I'm just going to aim for having a healthy respect for the body I have and trying to take care of it better so that it will take care of me. I'm a real woman, no matter what size or shape I am.

"Oh, I Could Never..."
Saving my personal favorite for last... This one makes my blood actually, literally boil. The reason I know this is because there is real steam coming from my ears when this one gets used on me. "Oh, I could NEVER leave Johnny at day care." "Oh, I could NEVER bottle feed." "Oh, I could NEVER travel for work while my kids are at home." Et cetera. Ad nauseam. The reason this one chaps my ass so badly is because the implied judgment is astonishing.

Here's the deal. Yes, you could EVER if you had to. You could EVER if you chose to, for whatever reason. You could EVER if it is the decision that works best for you and your loved ones. This one doesn't just apply to parenting and motherhood, by the way. It works in so many areas of life. Think about it: If you say it, please don't do that anymore. It makes the recipient feel like crap and also want to knock your lights out. The first time someone dropped that gem on me, I was 10 weeks post partum with a broken leg/ankle and dreading leaving my baby at daycare. While I wished I had had the wherewithal to come back with some withering reply, all I did was cry for three days, because I didn't already feel bad enough. So, thanks for that, friend.

I don't need to point out the big picture here, but as a self-proclaimed word nerd, I feel compelled to write some kind of conclusion. So here it goes: how about we all mind our own business unless there is a critical reason to butt in, try not to judge others for having a difference of opinion, appearance, life, career, choices, etc and be nice to each other. The end.

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He's The REAL Deal

When I first met Robert Clifford, he was a senior in high school. A gifted musician, Robert played all manner of instruments, but primarily rocked the piano. He was also the top of his class, popular, athletic and handsome. Also one of the nicest people I'd ever met. And just when you think it doesn't get much better than all of that, then he goes to medical school to become a doctor.

Fast forward twenty some years, and now "Dr. Robert" is my children's pediatrician. We began going to his practice, Coastal Pediatric Associates, when we moved to the West Ashley area of Charleston about 6 years ago, and he has been an instrumental part of our strategy for managing Will's learning challenges, as well as being an awesome all-around pediatrician. Not only can I count on him to be a good doctor to my children, he is always generous with his "talk time" with me as well, always considering my opinions and feelings when it comes to the care of our children.

Many local moms take their children to Coastal, and many local moms like Dr. Clifford just as much as I do. What many local moms may not realize is that Dr. Clifford is also the only doctor some children in the world ever seen. Period. In conjunction with an organization called Remember, Dr. Clifford leads medical teams on outreach missions around the world, targeting areas where medical services available to children and families are virtually non-existent or out of reach due to lack of resources.

Now, while all of us locals know what a good guy he is, it was so exciting to hear that he was recently nominated for a REAL award. (Don't worry - I didn't know what it meant at first either.) The REAL awards are a global awards program created by Save The Children and the Frontline Health Workers Coalition to develop greater respect and appreciation for health workers and the lifesaving care they provide globally, as well as in the United States.

It's just so exciting to me that while people from all over the country were nominated and while I'm sure they are all very deserving folks, someone who I am proud to call my friend and my doctor, and a local Charlestonian won! This award is made possible by some names you might recognize, like, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, GlaxoSmith Kline, Medtronic Foundation, Merck Company Foundation and Time Magazine, just to name a few. Yesterday, Dr. Clifford was presented with a symbolic boarding pass for the awards ceremony held in Washington, DC this April. Not only will the actual awards be given, the recipients will have a chance to advocate on Capitol Hill on behalf of health care providers around the world.

While the award itself is extremely exciting and a huge honor, Dr. Clifford took a moment to remind us why he and other health care workers go on these trips, saying, "It's such an incredible blessing to be able to work with colleagues who think that even though it's hard, even though we're tired, there's a greater purpose out there. This is especially true in poorer countries where there are children who have never even seen a doctor, let alone what a doctor is or have the resources to get health care."

And there you go, folks. I probably need to stop this blogging stuff and go make my kid's appointments. Waaaay in advance. In all seriousness, I'd like to extend my warmest congratulations to Dr. Robert Clifford - he truly is the real deal.

PS. Some of you Charleston peeps may recognize the lovely lady on the far right...our own Joan Perry of Charleston Daily Photo! She actually wrote the nomination that got all this going. Thanks Joan!

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When The Shoe Comes Off, You Know He Means Business

My son has some challenges in the sensory department. As he grows, some of these, like noise tolerance have improved, but one that remains in full force is his intolerance for unpleasant touch sensations. This would include things like, say, going to the dentist. As a three year old, Will became a legend at the ENT for his complete and terrible beat down he put on the recovery room after having his tonsils out. To be fair, I gave them warning that he was going to wake up fast, and he was going to also be temporarily possessed by a demon, but I don't think they took me seriously. Big mistake.

As I was sitting in the waiting room, the door flies open and a very excited staff member calls out, "Mrs. Connelly! Can you please come back?!" I hurried through the door and was momentarily stopped in my tracks by the scene. Will had ripped out his IV, was fighting the nurse tooth and nail, screaming bloody murder and had also kicked one of his shoes across the room. Inconsolable is a nice way of putting it. In need of an exorcism is probably more accurate. He was given some pain medicine in his nose (OUCH) and settled down a little bit once he cursed everyone out in toddler language.

A few minutes later, the nurse needed to use suction in his mouth so that he didn't have to swallow or spit saliva with his raw now tonsil-less throat. "Open wide and let's use Mr. Thirsty", she says, placing the suction in his mouth. "HOOOOWWWWLLLL!!! RAAAWWWWERRRRRRR!!!!!!! I HATE MR THIRSTY!!!" he shrieks at her in reply and then proceeds to bite the tube so hard it breaks. Next, the other shoe flies across the room and it is at that moment that I realize that the shoe is his tell. A tell is a poker term - it means a clue, based on behavior or demeanor. Will apparently likes to take off his shoes before he goes to the mattresses.

Yesterday, Will had to have a tooth extracted. He has had multiple procedures because he doesn't have the best teeth in the world so even though his dentist is one of my best friends who babies him shamelessly and happens to be a well regarded and experienced pediatric specialist, he still goes buck wild. There was screaming, crying, telling everyone off, flailing, grabbing and so forth. The worst part about this is that he has the metabolism of an ox, so sedation meds are somewhat negligible. We have tried all kinds of combinations of things to help him be comfortable and relaxed, but to not much avail. He just goes nuts. And just like at the ENT, I knew things were about get crazy when, yep, you guessed it - the shoes came off.

It's frustrating and upsetting because it is so hard to know what he can or cannot help. At one point yesterday, I did pop him on the hand because he was starting to swat at my friend and her assistant, and I was absolutely not going to tolerate that. I feel so bad for him, but then I'm really aggravated too. I think to myself, "you are too old to be acting like this!" but then he softly says things like "I hated today. It was terrible." while I'm tucking him into bed last night and my heart breaks for him. All I could do is tell him that I hated it too, that I was so sorry he was that upset and that I hoped he understood that even though it was really unpleasant, we were doing what we had to in order to help him have a healthy mouth.
I don't know if anyone else who might read this has a child with similar issues, but if so, I'd love to hear from you. I hate how we both feel after one of these ordeals, and I'm worried he is not going to be manageable for a whole lot longer. I mean, the odds of me being able to wrangle a teen aged boy who is flailing at the dentist is pretty unlikely. It would be great to get some suggestions for medical/dental procedures if anyone has any. In the meantime, I'm just going to keep an eye on those shoes and hope for the best.


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Stranger Danger and My Kids Were Unprepared

Earlier this week, I picked up my children from the library, which is their bus stop on the days they actually ride the bus. This particular branch is a stop for multiple schools and lots of kids wait for their rides for short periods of time. They do homework, read, chat with each other, play games etc while they are there. The librarians don't babysit or anything, but they do keep an eye out.

Normally, everything is fine. Earlier this week though, it wasn't. I got stuck in major traffic and instead of sitting for the usual 15-20 minutes, the kids were there almost an hour. I don't know if this made a difference or not, but by the time I got there, the herd of students had almost completely thinned out. Anyway, while they were gathering up their things and getting ready to go, Cecilia says, "some weird guy came up to my friend and was laughing all crazy." "Wow. Really", I asked. "Is everything okay?" She assured me that it was all fine and we went on about our way.

About an hour or so later, I got a text from the friend's mother and apparently the situation was much more involved than that. Through the course of some text messages and a phone conversation more details emerged. Not only did this person approach the friend, he also was hugging him around the shoulders and trying to get him to convince the concerned librarian that he was the friend's Sunday school teacher. He was immediately told to go to a different part of the library, as no one was buying this story. The friend told his mother about this (she was in the same traffic and we basically just missed each other) and she went back to the library to confront the person who became belligerent and the librarian called the police. Weird guy fled.

Once I got these details, we immediately sat our kids down to talk with them further about what happened. Through the course of my conversation with friend's mom, we are fairly certain that this individual is a mentally ill or disabled adult, which would explain the odd behavior, weird story etc. What became glaringly apparent however, is that even though we have talked to our children lots of times about never going somewhere with a stranger, shouting that this person is not my mommy, how to look for an adult that will help you, etc., they had no idea what to do when something completely off the wall and potentially very dangerous can happen.

The conversation really got interesting when Cecilia began talking about how kids are told to mind the adults, not talk back and cooperate with authority and so she didn't know what to do. Not only did this incident scare the absolute hell out of us, but it also revealed a serious gap in the safety section of our parenting strategy. It was good though, in hindsight. No lecture or conversation could have ever made the same kind of impact as a scary situation that ended up being only a scary situation for a few minutes, with no harm done. We talked to them about it being their right to stand up for themselves to anyone who was making them feel uncomfortable, even if it turns out that they are incorrect. They seemed to understand that we would much rather them make a mistake in judgement than let something ride that would endanger them.

We also made sure to clarify that this was no one's fault - that none of the kids were to blame for not knowing what to do in response to the situation. In all our conversations about strangers etc., it never occurred to us to talk to them about a situation like this. We also showed them this video, about a girl who escaped an attempted kidnapping in Walmart. Not the exact same scenario, but the child in this situation was kicking and screaming for all she was worth - defending herself. The would be kidnapper gave up, fled and was subsequently arrested. Hopefully the combination of the conversation, the experience and the visual aid will drive home the point.

I 'm sharing this post because this particular kind of scenario was not one that ever crossed my mind, and if sharing it can help even one other parent protect their child, it will be a meaningful thing. I am also so thankful for the communication among parents - it reminds me of the meerkat colonies - one starts signaling danger and they all get the message. Long story short, please reiterate to your children their right to defend themselves and that if something feels even a little bit wrong or off, it's because it probably is.



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