Hot Diggity!

Bernie Fine and Jerry Sandusky: Let's Never Shut Up About This Again

2011-11-30T00:33:00.007-05:00

This year marked 25 years since I was raped. I've never been quiet about it because it never occurred to me that I should feel embarrassed. After all, I was 10, and I was asleep in bed when a serial rapist kidnapped me from my bedroom... not a lot there that I need to feel responsible for. I'm sorry that any rape survivor feels any different, because regardless of circumstances, you are not responsible or to blame for what happened to you, either. No matter what.

My rapist is up for parole right now. I've already given my victim impact statement to the parole board and I'm just waiting for an answer. If he gets out of prison, my life will be very different, and you may not see me here anymore.

That's because our justice system and our community is really, really screwed up with regard to sex crimes. First off, there is no reason on the planet for a serial rapist ever to get out of prison. Now make it a serial rapist who also raped children, and I don't understand why this person even deserves to be alive right now. But that's beside the point.

I was one of the lucky ones. I told my story to the police, I was believed, and my rapist was caught before the statute of limitations ran out (in New York, a paltry 5 years-- that's right, if the rapist evades capture for 5 years, even if DNA evidence proves he did it, he's a free man and can never be convicted for that crime). He went to trial in three counties and was found guilty and sentenced to the maximum-- 25 years "to life."

I was assured at the time that he'd never get out. Except that was a lie. He's getting out. "Life," as defined by NY State, is 35 years. So sometime between next month and 10 years from now, he will be out.

Yet I'm still one of the lucky ones. At least I had these 25 years. I didn't have to look over my shoulder and wonder when he'd be back for revenge, as he promised when he let me go. He told me then that he'd come back for my 4-year-old sister.

My daughter is now 4.

Other people don't get those 25 years. Even if they manage to be heard and believed and the crime is investigated and makes it to trial and the rapist is convicted... even after all that, the sentence may still be a joke. Take, for instance, what I just found in my state's sex offender registry. Took me five seconds to find that a man in my town convicted of 1st degree sexual abuse involving intercourse with a 7-year-old girl spent 16 days in county jail, and then was sentenced to 5 years of probation.

Yep, that sounds like justice, doesn't it? He's even smiling in his mug shot.

Through the years as I've shared my story, I've heard from probably 40 or 50 women who've told me that they were also raped. It's a terrible sisterhood we share, a club that none of us wants to belong to. But then there are the men... four of them who've confided in me that they were also sexually abused as kids.

Being raped is a steaming pile of shit for anyone, but in particular for a boy. In addition to all the other emotions you go through-- worthlessness, self-blame, depression, betrayal, and so on-- now you also have this additional stupid stigma that you weren't "manly enough" to fight it off. There are fewer men out there talking about it, fewer support groups, and I presume it's even easier to feel alone and crazy. I felt alone and crazy until college, when I met a group of women who, it turned out, were all going through the very same crap I was-- hypervigilance, overreactions to triggers, trust issues, and so on.

When I read about Jerry Sandusky and then Bernie Fine and their heinous sexual crimes against boys, I thought about the men I know who've been abused. All those terrible people who didn't do a damn thing for the victims... all the people who SAW or KNEW that men were raping little boys and were too chickenshit or too uncaring to actually, y'know, DO something about it... and I thought, "That's exactly why rape victims don't come forward."

Far too often, we're not believed, or even if we are believed, it's just too horrible for society to think about-- so they do anything they can NOT to think about it. They pretend we're not really here, that it's not really so bad. They take this huge thing we just summoned up the guts to share and they do nothing about it. They fail us. They move on with their lives and we wonder why we can't move on with ours. People would much rather pretend that this stuff is so rare as to be inconsequential. But it's not rare.

There are child molesters and rapists in your community. They are in your church, they are working in your schools, they are on line next to you at the grocery store. You've probably made pleasant small talk with a child molester without ever realizing it. He (it's usually a "he") seems nice. A pillar of the community. "He would never do something like that"... except that he would. They live in Idaho and in North Carolina just the same as they live in New York and California.

If you need proof, then use the resources that proponents of Megan's Law fought for. Take a quick look at your state's sex offender registry. Now, keeping in mind that these are people who were caught and convicted and haven't yet aged out of the system. If you really want to feel ill, scroll down to the fine print about their sentences. See how many child molesters get nothing more than probation?

So here's the thing... let's take this Sandusky and Fine stuff and actually do something productive about it. We can all shake our heads and say "tsk tsk" and then go read the next scandalous story, and then nothing will actually change. Or we can go after our elected officials and MAKE THEM make some changes or kick them out of office.

Here's one: Abolish the statute of limitations for rape.

Bobby Davis found out that when he came forward about Fine's abuse, it was too late-- police wouldn't bother doing an investigation because the statute of limitations had run out. That's disgusting. Fine didn't miraculously become innocent of raping a small boy because some invisible timer had run out. Rape does not have an expiration date. Tell that to your state senators and assemblymen.

Here's two: Increase prison terms for sex offenders.

Convicted child molesters and rapists should not have a chance to rape someone else's child. This is not a "three strikes and you're out" kind of crime. One is enough. Raping ONE child should mean life in prison without the possibility of parole, period. Probation is bullshit.

Here's three: Prosecute those who see or know about sex crimes and do not report to authorities.

They have aided and abetted a rapist and deserve to be criminally punished. That includes churches who hide away their priests and pastors who've committed sex crimes, wives who know their husbands are rapists, and everything in between. If you know someone has raped someone, the time to call police is NOW.

And a few other things I want to say...

BOBBY DAVIS and MIKE LANG, you are heroes. You are amazing for speaking out the way you are. You're amazing for not letting people sweep you under the rug.

"I don't want this to happen to anybody else," Mike said.

I wish I could guarantee that. What I can guarantee, though, is that because of people like you, there are other men who will feel less alone and less crazy. You're encouraging people to speak out, and you're showing the world that male sexual abuse survivors have nothing to be ashamed of.

It's not your fault. It's not the other survivors' fault. The fault lies with the criminals who did this and the people who allowed them to do it, time and again-- people like the district attorney and university police who let Sandusky get away with it the first time, Penn State coach Joe Paterno, athletic director Tim Curley, senior VP for finance and business Gary Schultz, everyone at The Second Mile who knew about what Sandusky had done and let him get away with it after an "internal review," wrestling coach Joseph Miller (who watched Sandusky molest a boy), graduate assistant Mike McQueary (who watched Sandusky molest a boy); Bernie Fine's wife, everyone at ESPN who heard the tape of Fine's wife and didn't bother telling police about it, detectives who blew off Bobby Davis the first time around, the police chief who actively tried to block the DA's investigation after Mike Lang came forward...

Sadly, the list goes on and on. Imagine how life might have been different if even ONE of those people had the guts to do what was right. Other boys might not have been abused.

TYLER PERRY, you are amazing for telling your story, and for your wonderful letter to the 11-year old Penn State survivor.

MALESURVIVOR.ORG, thank you for being there. Men who have been abused, there's a place to seek some understanding.

BERNIE FINE, JERRY SANDUSKY, and every other schmuck out there who's abusing children and getting away with it, I do hope you die miserably, in as much pain as inhumanly possible, slowly. I wish horrors upon you that I can't even dream up.

Child molesters get away with their crimes because people don't want to talk about it. Let's never shut up about this again. Let's keep talking about it until we drive this stuff into the light and make it unacceptable for anyone to get a "pass." Don't be afraid to speak up because the man is a respected community member, or doesn't look like a child molester. We are responsible for people who can't speak up for themselves. Children need our protection. Let's not fail another one.

10 Simple Steps for the Newly-Single Mom

2011-09-19T15:40:00.005-04:00

I want to tell you the secrets I've learned, because it's taken me almost 4 years to get here and I don't want to keep this stuff to myself anymore. It's valuable stuff. Life-changing, to be sure, but not in the ways you might think.

When you first start out as a single mom, no matter who did the leaving, you think:

This sucks.

And you're right and wrong. Parts of it are going to suck, but parts of it are going to be so good that they'll cancel out the sucking. So let me tell you the important bits:

1. You don't need a new man to replace the old one.

Some newly-single moms think, "OMG! I can't do this alone! I'd better grab me a replacement man, pronto!" and others think, "I'm never getting married again as long as I live." Somewhere in between, the right answer probably exists. I can tell you that jumping into a new relationship right away will rob you of your chance to find the real goodies hidden in single motherhood, and that you probably won't make the best choices if you're wearing Eau de Desperation. Try just taking time to be with yourself and your kids because it can really pay off in unexpected ways.

2. You'll figure it out.

In the beginning, it all looks so overwhelming-- "How am I going to do this? How am I going to do that?"

You just will. When it comes down to it, you'll figure it out. Try not to freak out about things that are six or more months down the line, because everything can change in six months. Take what's on your plate now and make it work. You can do it.

3. Downsizing can be liberating.

Separation or divorce usually means learning to live with less-- a smaller home, less "stuff," a less expensive car, etc. Before resisting moving, just try looking around. Consider how it might feel to get a true fresh start in a fresh place, no bad memories lurking in the walls or under the floorboards waiting to grab your ankles and trip you up. Consider how there will be less to clean, and that you won't have to take anyone else's tastes into consideration.

4. Don't sell what you'll regret. Sell everything else.

You probably don't need half the stuff you've accumulated through the years. Aunt Edith won't notice that you sold the tea set she bought you for your bridal shower. She'd be glad to know you got a few bucks for it and used it toward something you actually need now, like, y'know, food. Use Craigslist, eBay, garage sales, consignment stores. Don't waste your time listing $5 items on Craigslist and then sitting around all day waiting for someone to show up to pick it up, but anything you think you can get $20 or more for is worth listing.

For the cheaper stuff, consider using the honor system: "I'll leave the lamp by my front door. If you decide to take it, please leave $5 under the mat." That way you don't have to wait around and schedule times, and if someone steals it, big freakin' deal.

Don't sell all the baby clothes. Keep some to make a quilt someday.

5. Instead of calling a repairman, use YouTube.

Not sure how to put in shelves, install a disposal under your sink, change a tire, or figure out what kind of wall anchor you need to hang a heavy clock? Instead of calling for help or abandoning the project, first look for videos on YouTube that will show you exactly what to do.

6. Buy these things.

Here are some things I think all single ladies should have:

A good cordless drill. I was lucky enough to get this Makita one second-hand. This DeWalt one's a little cheaper.

A ladder. (Got mine for $39 at Home Depot.)

A toolbox filled with nails, screws, wall anchors, pliers, wrenches, etc. in assorted sizes. And, of course, a good hammer. And I love this screwdriver.

Jumper cables.

A solid deadbolt lock.

7. Don't waste your time or energy on badmouthing.

Sure, vent a few times when you need to, but then move on and realize that (1) it's usually in the kids' best interest to have their father in their life regularly (I won't get into the situations when it's not in their best interest, but use your judgement), (2) you don't want them to overhear you and be confused about their loyalties or about what love means, and (3) negative thoughts can just weigh you down. Lighten your load and do as little thinking as possible about people who bring you stress. Redirect your focus on people and things that bring you joy.

8. Keep a daily organizer on your desk.

There are things you'll probably need to keep track of now that you might never have had to track before. Do you know when garbage days and recycling days are? Do you know when bills are due? Buy an organizer with a decent amount of room to write every day, and use the space to note everything from birthday parties to triple-manufacturer's-coupon day at the grocery store.

9. Take what's offered.

Pride is expensive. You can't afford pride. Plus, pride is idiotic. Look, if you need stuff and people are willing to give you stuff, take the stuff.

No one needs to go hungry in America. There are food pantries and soup kitchens that you can go to, no questions asked and no judgments passed. There are community centers and churches that can point you to places to get clothes and school supplies, free or cheap health insurance, and even temporary shelters. Before it gets desperate, look into these programs and don't be embarrassed to need them. That's what they're there for. Use them as long as you have to, then move ahead with your head held high and pay it forward when you're able. You'll get there, too.

10. Bask in your amazingness.

You are SuperMom. You are so capable and smart and strong. You can do this. Go ahead, let it get to your head. Fix that darn leak in the sink yourself and then brag to all your Facebook friends about it. This is where the goodies come in... if you let yourself be single, you'll learn that you are capable of more than you imagined. You'll be more whole and at peace. It's not about giving attitude and saying, "I don't need a man!" It's about feeling great about yourself and choosing to share your life with someone else only when and if you feel really good about it and ready to do so. But by then, you'll have learned so much more about yourself that you'll be an even better mate. And if you choose to stay single, that's okay, too!

Allow your priorities to change. Allow yourself to make new friends, aside from the ones you shared with your ex. Find things that make you feel good about yourself and do them. Exercise, knit, play guitar, whatever.

But mostly, treat yourself with kindness and know that you're doing the best job you can for your kids and yourself. What they need from you more than anything else is love, and you've got that. Even when all else fails, you've got that, and no one can take it away from you.

You're amazing, Mom. You can do this.

Dear New Writer (Who Probably Googled 'Book Publishers for New Authors' to Get Here)

2011-05-23T01:13:00.005-04:00

This just landed in my inbox, and I'm going to publish it here because I get a variation of this letter at least once a month. It's starting to make me a little loopy.

Dear Jenna, I've completed my first manuscript a few months ago and have since received 7 acceptance letters, however 5 are from "self-publishing" companies. One from PA and one from Dorrance. PA has already sent me a sample contract and an Aug. 1st deadline but after reading your comments, now I more confused then ever. Bottom line, I have no funds for Publishing law firms nor Self-Publishing companies. I'm looking for the name of a legit company that can help me without costing an arm and a leg.

Okay, new writers, this one's for you. Let's dissect what's wrong with this question:

He says has received 7 acceptance letters, but five are from "self-publishing companies." (Which are not actually "acceptances," but rather sales pitches.)

Our first dilemma is that he sent at least five self-publishing companies his manuscript.

Why?

Unless you are seeking to self-publish on purpose, and you have a good reason to do so (we'll get to that in a minute), then there's no reason to send your manuscript to any of them. However, many, many writers think it's a good idea to find publishers by Googling things like "publishers that want new writers" and "book publishers for new authors." Even just Googling "book publisher" is a very bad idea. You know who works really hard on search engine placement to attract never-been-published authors? Vanity presses. (Or "self-publishing companies," whichever wording you prefer.) Real book publishers are not trying to get themselves on top of search engines to attract writers-- they have plenty of submissions as it is, and their business is to sell books, not to attract more submissions from inexperienced writers.

If you spent the time writing a manuscript, then do right by yourself and spend time doing the research necessary to find it a good home.

It's not difficult. It's moderately time consuming, but isn't your book worth a few days of research?

Okay, so onto our second dilemma. He says he has 7 acceptances, but 5 are from self-publishers. Am I to take it to mean that he has two offers from legitimate commercial publishers, but he's still trying to figure out who to trust among the self-publishing firms? Sorry, I don't buy it. I just plain don't.

But I'll skip over that. Here's the thing: PUBLISHERS ARE SUPPOSED TO PAY YOU.

You are not supposed to pay a publisher for anything at any time.

You're not supposed to worry about costing "an arm and a leg"-- you're supposed to worry about how to spend your advance money. If you're a nonfiction writer who can't get a real publisher to pay you a real advance, something is probably wrong with your submission.

Nonfiction is sold on the basis of a book proposal. I've written lots and lots about proposals; I won't get into it here except to say that even if your whole manuscript is complete, you STILL need to show a proposal first. It contains information that's not in a manuscript, such as your target audience, your marketing plans, an analysis of competing books, your qualifications, etc. Some agents will look at a book proposal unsolicited, but most prefer that you first submit a query letter the summarizes it first, then if they give you the go-ahead, you submit the proposal.

For fiction, you'll need to write the whole manuscript (but submit a query letter before submitting the manuscript or sample chapters). And I don't judge things the same way with fiction, nor am I an expert in this arena-- I know there's quality fiction out there that doesn't find a publisher for reasons unrelated to quality of writing. But I digress.

I suggest sending out your query to a small group of agents before anything else. This way, you'll get a little feedback before sending it to your next group. If your first group all reject the query, you'll know to rewrite it. If they reject the proposal/manuscript, try to learn from any feedback you receive and move on.

Over and over, I get e-mails with some variation of, "I'm a new writer and I don't know who to trust. Can you tell me the name of a company to send my work to?"

First, no. I've done my homework for 14 years and I'm not about to do yours for you, too. (Not you, of course. You wouldn't ask me to. I know.)

Look, here's who to trust: THE PUBLISHERS WHOSE WORK YOU CAN ACTUALLY SEE ON BOOKSTORE SHELVES, AND AT WAL-MART, AND AT CVS, AND IN LIBRARIES.

Google is NOT the place to look for a publisher. Think about your goals: If your main goal is to get a book published and actually see it in Barnes & Noble, then go to Barnes & Noble. (No, I'm not speaking metaphorically. I literally mean: just go there. It's the least you can do if this is your big goal.)

Once you're there, look for books that are similar to yours in content or theme. Now write down the names of the publishers who published them.

Then look at the acknowledgments pages and write down the people you see thanked inside: editors and agents.

You now have a list of who to trust. How hard was that?

Those are the people who actually managed to get a book published and on bookstore shelves. Self-publishing/vanity publishing companies are not going to do that for you.

I'm not opposed to self/vanity publishing. I think there's a place for it and that it can peacefully coexist with traditional publishing. I think which way you go depends a lot on your goals...

If you just want to have something in print for friends and family, go for it. (I've used http://www.lulu.com/ for this.)

If you know you have a very limited market and publishers aren't interested, but you want to get it out there anyway, fine.

If there's a reason you need to get something out very quickly, it may be your only option.

If you're a published author who wants to get your out-of-print books back in print and you can't find a publisher to reprint them, it's probably better than nothing. (I say "probably" because poor self-publishing sales could hurt your chances of a new contract.)

If you have a built-in audience that you know you can sell to, then it may work out great for you. If you do a lot of public speaking or performing and you just want to have a book to sell from the back of the room afterwards, or you have a dedicated online following, then self-publishing may be the thing. It offers a higher profit margin per book, meaning that you need to sell fewer books total to make the same money as you would publishing with a commercial press.

But keep in mind that with companies like iUniverse, Xlibris, PublishAmerica (don't... just don't... whatever you do, don't go with this one), their average authors sell about 75 copies.

75 copies. In total. Ever. And all authors think they'll be the exception.

I can point to a growing number of self-publishers who did it right and have been successful at it, but it's nowhere near as simple as, "Write a book, send it to Xlibris, sit back and watch royalties come in." There's no way for me to even summarize all the relevant editorial, production, marketing, and distribution steps here. I'm not going to try, because what I really want to say is:

Slow down. Don't expect others to give you all the answers. It's awful finding out that you just signed over the rights to your manuscript to a company that's going to do nothing for you, that your book will never see the light of a bookstore, and that you're not going to get a second chance because a real publisher isn't going to look at your "Oops, I made a mistake" book that sold 75 copies.

You probably have one shot with this book. Get it right. Slow down.

Once you have your list of agents and editors, then is the time to run things through Google, and http://www.publishersmarketplace.com, and http://www.agentquery.com. Find out who's selling what and who's buying what. Find out which of those agents and editors have moved around since you read those acknowledgments. Find out their submission guidelines and follow them.

And our last dilemma from the letter: "I'm looking for the name of a legit company that can help me without costing an arm and a leg."

He's looking at it wrong. Publishers are not in business to "help" writers. They're in business primarily to sell books and make money... which, in turn, does help writers, but not in the way I suspect he means.

Legitimate publishers cannot afford to be do-gooders who pick up unknown writers' works just to be sweet and kind and make someone's dream come true. If they did, they'd all be out of business and those of us who've actually made writing our life's work would be furious. New writer, your work has to compete. If you can't compete with experienced writers, then you're not ready to submit yet. Publishing is a business with small profit margins, and publishers need to make smart investments. "Hey, this writer has potential" is not good enough. Publishers have to believe that your work is going to have an audience, and that audience is going to spend their hard-earned money on your book in sufficient numbers to warrant all the work and money that's going to go into producing it.

The cold, hard truth is that most new writers who are running around submitting like this don't have a chance of actually getting published. Whether they can change that with hard work, study, critique groups, etc., I have no idea. Some can, some can't. But many newbies overestimate their readiness and expect publishers to have some kind of soft spot for them. It just doesn't work this way. Most editors and agents are thrilled to help someone get their first big break-- but only if that person has earned it. You earn it by writing something great, and editing it until it's terrific, and submitting it to people who are appropriate for it.

And not PublishAmerica. Ever.

Are we at least clear on that?

In Search of Zzzzs: A Review of the Tempflow Mattress

2011-04-01T00:03:00.010-04:00

Like most people, I lead a very busy life. Sleep is a precious commodity that I don't get enough of on a regular basis. I could tell you all my reasons, but I bet you have your own. So when it comes to sleep, I want to make the most of every minute of it-- and that starts with having a comfortable bed and pillow.

My parents bought me a new mattress for Christmas in 2009. It was a fancy pillowtop one from Sleepy's, fairly high end. I liked it in the store, but when it came to actually sleep on it at home, I woke up with a stiff neck the first morning. I thought that maybe I just needed to get used to it, so I gave it some time... but it just wasn't comfortable for me. I was planning on returning it, but then my daughter crawled into bed with me one night and had an accident. My waterproof mattress pad had melted in spots in the dryer, so it failed me. Big stain. There went my ability to return the mattress. I was seriously bummed.

What I'd wanted, but was afraid to try, was a memory foam mattress. I adore memory foam toppers, so I wondered what it would be like to sleep on an entire mattress made of foam. Enter the good people at Relief-Mart, who agreed to send me a Tempflow mattress and pillow to review. I was thrilled because the Tempflow promised some solutions to typical problems with memory foam.

One of the complaints people often have about memory foam is the initial odor-- it can give off a chemical smell that makes it unpleasant to sleep on for the first week or so, and when a topper or mattress arrives compressed, you have to wait for it to "plump up." Not so in this case-- it arrived in its "fully plumped" state and with no chemical odor, so I was able to sleep on it the first night.

Now, I haven't done any in-depth research on the chemical properties of memory foam, but it seems pretty common-sensical (yes, I made that up) to me that something that smells toxic can't be healthy to sleep on. You're breathing that in every night, in addition to having it right up against your skin. Anecdotally, I've heard people report respiratory and neurological problems that they traced to their memory foam, so I did a quick Google search and found articles such as this overview that explains what kinds of chemicals may be present in memory foam and how they can affect us.

The Tempflow line of mattresses offers uses a special Biogreen memory foam that's been independently tested to be free of VOC (volatile organic compounds).

I used the white glove delivery service, which meant that two delivery guys came and literally took my old mattress off and put this one on for me. (Hey, thanks, guys.) It was a freezing cold day when they delivered it, so I was initially worried... I plopped right down on the bed and it was hard."Don't worry," they told me. "It's just because it was freezing in the truck. Give it a few minutes."I did, and they were right... it softened right up while we were talking, to the point where I sank deeply into it when I sat on it. It hasn't been hard ever again, even when my house has been cold, so it appears that it hardens up only in extremely cold temperatures.

It comes with a bamboo cover, which is wonderfully soft, hypoallergenic, and environmentally friendly.

The other common complaint about memory foam is that it can make you overheat, and I do tend to overheat at night, so I was worried about that. I read an article that showed the Tempflow transfered heat less than the Tempur-Pedic mattress, but I had to find out for myself. As it turned out, my body temperature was no different on this memory foam than it had been on the pillowtop mattress. The Tempflow line comes standard with a patented airflow system (small holes through the memory foam that vent out the sides of the base foam so body heat doesn't get trapped).

It was strange to me to order a mattress without being able to test it out in person, but what's so terrific about Tempflow (a Relief-Mart company) is the level of customer service-- they ask detailed questions to determine what kind of memory foam bed will be right for you. I like really soft, plush beds, so that's what they sent me. But you can have a free personal consultation with their mattress expert, Dr. Rick Swartzburg, D.C. to go over what your needs and tastes are; they can actually custom design a mattress just for you, in whatever size you want, whatever thickness you want, whatever feel you want. That's what blew me away-- you're dealing with the manufacturer, in the United States, so it's completely different from ordering something from a store and having them place a bulk order to import from overseas. In this case, Tempflow uses a proprietary formulation that is made specifically for them by a U.S. foam manufacturer and Tempflow creates the mattresses in their own factory in California.
So if you're a connoisseur who knows the difference between 4 and 5 pound density visco-elastic memory foam, you can be as specific as you want about your needs. Or if you're more like me, you can just say, "Um, soft, please," and let them handle the details.

The other tremendous benefit is their in-home trial policy: you get four months to try out your mattress. If you don't love it, they'll ship you a new one or refund your money, less shipping fees.

Now for the pillow.

It's awesome.

I've never felt anything like it. The darn thing is heavy. I mean, you wouldn't want to get into a pillow fight with this one because someone would wind up unconscious. It's called the Ultraluxe. It's filled with shredded memory foam, which provides a really supportive but soft feel. It's meant to feel like a down pillow, without the downsides of allergies and their tendency to flatten out over time. I've slept on down... it's similar, but this is a feel of its own that I can't say is just like anything else. Kind of like sleeping on soft clay. Wait, that doesn't sound all that appealing. You're just going to have to go with me on this. Soft clay, but in the good way.

It's wonderful for me as a stomach sleeper-- I have problems trying to adjust a pillow "just so" so I can still breathe with my face angled downward. This one alleviates that problem because it's so moldable. I can adjust the shredded foam just how I want it (I can even remove some if I want a less-stuffed pillow). My only problem is that my daughter keeps trying to claim it for herself.

If you've tried the Tempur-Pedic mattresses, but have been put off by the price, you can just tell the folks at Tempflow which model you liked, and they can recreate the same feel, using the same quality and density memory foam, for less. It's not a bargain shop, but they don't have the same overhead that Tempur-Pedic has.

I feel confident recommending Tempflow.

Publishing and Me, and the Great Freakout of 2010

2011-03-16T14:25:00.004-04:00

When I started writing, older writers would often say things like, "The publishing world has changed! It's not like it was when I was starting." I'd wonder what publishing was like for them; they painted utopian pictures of editors who spent lots of time nurturing writers who showed promise but didn't have professional polish. They described bookstores giving "fringe" authors a chance, and not giving up on authors whose first books didn't sell well. They described publishing as a kind, gentle world where promotion was left up to the publishers and writers had nothing to do but work on their craft.

I don't know how much of that was factual and how much was romanticized. My guess is about 50/50. It's true that when I began writing professionally in 1997, the publishing world had become more competitive, more prone to the chain bookstores' "bestseller" mentality (leaving less space on shelves for books with smaller audiences, regardless of how well-written they might be), and more likely to give up on writers who didn't sell well out of the starting gates.

Probably the most important shift was to "platforms." No longer was publicity something we got to leave to others-- we had to get in there and stomp on those grapes ourselves and get our feet all stained purple and red if we expected to get some wine out of the deal. (Speaking of which, guh-ross!)

Although there was talk of platforms in '97, it's overwhelming now. Agents and editors want to hear your book summary in the first breath, and your platform in the second. Your great book idea is unlikely to sell unless you have something to back up the marketing of that book-- speaking engagements, a radio show, a popular blog, a zillion Twitter followers. Which means that authors today are busier, and less focused on just the writing. We have to be skilled not only in writing great books, but also in making online "friends" and fans, speaking to the media, and generally drawing attention to ourselves. That suits some people fine, and others (like me) wish we could just write and leave the sales to someone else. There's a reason I switched majors away from advertising, you know.

Most of my books are published by large and medium-sized presses. Some are small press books, and I've self-published a few niche titles and one anthology for charity. I wrote a few e-books back in the 90s and early 2000s, and I recently released one exclusively for Kindle. So, in short, I've published books in pretty much every way one can publish books. When I say I've written 19 books, I'm referring only to the ones that have been published by real publishers. In reality, I've probably written more like 26 or 27, but I don't count the others, just because I don't.

If you were looking at a graph of my career as a writer, you'd see a nice steady upward climb, for the most part, since 1997. And then came 2010. What the hell happened in 2010? In my view, publishing collapsed.

It didn't, of course. Books were still being published. But I went from being so in demand that I could pick and choose from a variety of great book offers to having to send out missives to every editor I ever worked with begging for assignments, and those assigmments paid less than they did a year earlier. I had to drop my "minimum" book fee and still couldn't find work. I second-guessed myself. I wondered if I should take up a career better suited to my strengths, like professional basketball. When my daughter told me she wanted to be a ghostwriter when she grew up, I just said, "Awww. That's sweet. Also, no freaking way."

(I didn't say that. She was 3. I would have fired myself as her mother had I said that.)

I confided in my writing friends that I was worried. Did I actually suck as a writer and it just took 13 years to catch up with me? "It's not you," they assured me. "It's everyone."

The publishing world as we have always known it was and is in trouble. At least one major publisher put a moratorium on new submissions, saying that it was not acquiring any new books indefinitely. Bookstores closed. Chain bookstores focused more and more on their cafes and DVDs and gift products and less on books, and still are in trouble. Amazon began selling used books on the same screen as new ones. As the economy tanked, people bought fewer "luxury" books.

One bright light in the well has been the emergence of popular e-readers, which was a long time coming. It took a lot of flops before we saw the Kindle and the Nook. But early evidence suggests that people who use e-readers buy a lot of books-- more than they would buy in print. And that's great, mostly. There's a new article out about how the vast majority of e-reading people claim they still buy almost as many paperbacks and hardcovers as before, but frankly, I don't believe them. And I don't believe that trend will continue if it is true. We're becoming an e-culture, and I, at 35, am already a dinosaur. I love my print books. Moreover, I love writing print books.

Several of my books would not work as e-books. The Marilyn Monroe Treasures and Celine Dion: For Keeps are the most obvious-- they're gorgeous, oversized gift books filled with beautiful photo layouts and removable memorabilia in vellum envelopes. How am I going to get a removable marriage license into a Kindle? I'm not. And I'm not even going to make many sales on Amazon of books like that-- those are books that people have to see in person to appreciate. They have to walk into a bookstore and notice the gold foil cover and open the pages and feel the textures and be delighted at the beauty of the layouts and the intimate feel of the memorabilia. I love writing those books. A culture dedicated to e-reading will kill those books.

A culture dedicated to e-reading will kill bookstores.

It's something I didn't even want to acknowledge as a possibility before, so this is kind of a step for me, typing it out loud. Here's the trend I see as inevitable: as people are more able to buy books online and on e-readers, they are less likely to walk into bookstores and even book sections of megastores like Wal-Mart. As bookstores' profits continue to dwindle, they will have less money to invest in books that aren't guaranteed to sell. That means publishers will publish fewer books, focusing their efforts on books by celebrities and politicians and authors who have already hit bestseller status. Fewer options in bookstores will make readers even less likely to walk into a bookstore, considering that-- at this moment-- everything they want is at their fingertips on Amazon.

"At this moment" is the key, because the cycle hasn't caught up with us yet: as publishers publish fewer books, consumers will no longer be able to find new books on every conceivable topic that are published by "reliable" publishers. That will shift toward self-publishers and e-presses. A major publisher is unlikely to publish a book with a small intended audience, so an author who wants to write that book will be foreced to either self-publish or forget the idea. But self-publishing means there are fewer guarantees for readers: the quality of self-published books is, at best, a risky gamble. Self-publishing authors often don't hire editors (or if they do, they don't hire qualified editors-- partly because they don't know any better); they don't have their work professionally copyedited and proofread and typeset and designed. In short, they don't go through all the same steps that are meant to ensure quality control in commercial publishing. (Again, let me emphasize the word "often," because I'm not trying to tick off the small portion of self-published authors who do actually follow all these steps.)

And I'm not even judging the authors who don't follow those steps... it's expensive! Hiring all those professionals and paying for an ISBN and copyright and whatnot is expensive. Add that to the fact that you're not getting an advance and there are no guaranteed royalties, and you're talking one heck of a leap of faith for those who don't have a lot of money to begin with.

So, end result, readers who buy self-published books are probably going to have a bunch of bad experiences with writers whose work isn't vetted, fact-checked, or properly designed. They may or may not get fed up enough to cut back on their book-buying habits altogether.

And where does that leave us career authors?

Again, in my Great Freakout of 2010, one of my other author friends who was previously very successful and had become... not so successful... told me that she had branched out. Now she was mostly taking on private clients for editing, consulting, and teaching work. She suggested I try that, too, but I was uncomfortable consulting and teaching when I was currently not succeeding at the very thing I would be teaching. I knew I had to get back on top before I could feel okay about telling others how to be a writer.

I swallowed my pride and took on assignments I wouldn't have taken since my earliest freelancing days-- articles for local publications, cheapie articles for websites-- because this is all I have and my daughter and I need a place to live. But I felt miserable about it. Then I pulled out all the stops and began trying things I'd never done before: I took out some Google ads, put out an ad on Publishers Marketplace, joined ASJA, started handing out my business card to people who spoke at seminars, asked for meetings with a couple of great agents.

And then the miracle happened. It wasn't just one thing or the other. I don't know how to pin it down, other than to say that I do believe the economy is rebounding a bit and people are more optimistic, but in the course of a couple of months, I got work... more work than I have ever been offered before in my entire career.

The swing was phenomenal, from scraping by to having to turn down multiple projects each week because I was just too busy. They aren't all the same caliber I had before; whereas I had gotten very used to having editors and agents come to me with their best projects, now I'm taking on more private clients who don't yet have an agent or publisher. But I'm taking them on only if I believe they have what it takes to get commercially published, because I can't stand letting people down. And the advances are still down; an editor who might have offered me a $40,000 advance a few years ago now offers $20,000, and I'm supposed to split that with a ghostwriting client. But at least the assignments are there.

When I mention that I have an overload of work now, I get a deluge of responses that say, "Give your extra work to meeeeee!," which shows me that not everyone is out of the woods, and that bums me out. When I first saw my work picking up, I hoped that meant that everyone's work was picking up and that the whole publishing world was coming back to living color again.

I'm trying not to let all these offers get to my head, though. I hope that this means my career is permanently back on track and that I can look forward to decades of smooth sailing where I'll never have to freak out again, but I still feel the publishing trends of tomorrow breathing down my neck. I still fear that, long term, we're going to lose most of our bookstores and many of our publishers. I fear that the genres that are best suited to e-readers (like romance, fantasy, and practical nonfiction) will do well while the books that are more often "bookstore finds" (memoirs by unknowns, gift books, graphic novels, pop-up books, etc.) will fade away. I fear that talented authors who aren't skilled at interacting on Facebook or speaking at conferences will lose their place in the publishing world. I fear the sky is falling, and I want to get all of us to help hold it in place.

I know I'm long on fears and short on solutions today. And I hope I'm wrong about most of it, and that e-readers really mean what the optimists think they'll mean. What I know is that for today, I'm okay, and my shelves are still full of wonderful books. My editors haven't lost their jobs, and the agents I work with are still getting by. There are a few new authors who are achieving stunning successes in the e-world in addition to the print world. For today, that will have to be enough, while we figure out who's in charge of holding up the sky.

Normalizing The Insanity

2011-03-08T02:43:00.005-05:00

First, thanks to CSNStores.com, where you can get anything from a dollhouse to an Eames lounge chair, for inviting me to do another review-- which is coming up soon. But I have something else I wanted to talk about first.

Or rather, that I don't want to talk about first. Namely, I don't want to talk about Charlie Sheen. And so I'm blogging about it. I realize the irony of this...

I stopped caring about Charlie Sheen at precisely the moment he held a knife to his wife's throat and threatened to kill her. A guy who does that should not have a TV show. A guy who does that should not have the world record for the quickest rise to 1 million Twitter followers. But people love crazy. We love to watch people go off the rails. I'm not sure exactly why, and I'm sure not above it all-- despite that I have no sympathy or positive feelings for Sheen, I've watched the interviews, too. (At least, parts of them, until I got frustrated enough to stop.)

I want more attention to be paid to the real role models. People like this guy who's out there feeding the hungry and tending to the sick and trying to make people feel human, just because it's the right thing to do. Could you help bathe a homeless stranger and give him a haircut? I can't imagine it, but maybe that's what needs normalizing.

As it stands, in this culture that rewards celebrities behaving badly, what we have done is to normalize sin and crime. Politicians are expected to cheat on their wives. Athletes who get women pregnant and deny they're the fathers? No big deal! Musicians who use drugs? They might as well shoot up on stage... we don't care. Teen role models who pose nearly nude? We'll reward them with bigger contracts. Kleptomaniac actresses, movie stars with DUIs... we may act outraged for half a second, but look what happens. Paris Hilton gets paid tens of thousands of dollars to show up at a party. Linday Lohan gets offered a million dollars for an interview when she gets out of jail.

When something happens that's big enough to still really make us sit up and take notice-- like Tiger Woods and Jesse James and the way they slept with everyone-- even that helps to normalize the "lesser offenses." A guy cheated on his wife just once? Oh, no big deal-- at least he wasn't like Jesse James. The fact that Hugh Grant got caught with a prostitute mattered for about three seconds, and then it seemed okay.

It's not okay!

Look, I know that no one's perfect and that we've all done a few lousy things in our lives, but I wish we could find a way to elevate the status of the people who are out there quietly doing great things rather than focusing so much attention on the people out there who are loudly doing horrible things. Imagine if, instead of spending a week listening to Charlie Sheen mouth off about his tiger blood and how much better he is than the rest of us unworthy peons, we spent time learning about Timothy Jaccard, a Long Island police department paramedic who devotes his life to rescuing newborn babies who have been abandoned or are in danger of being abandoned or killed. I'd even be satisfied with paying more attention to celebrities like Matt Damon, who loves his wife and kids and is trying to do some good in this world.

Let's stop getting jaded by the crazy, bad things celebrities do. Let's instead get so inundated with acts of human kindness that they become the new normal. Let's normalize goodness.

To My Daughter on her Birthday Eve

2011-03-01T00:33:00.004-05:00

My sweet Sarina, tomorrow you will turn 4. I know you've been afraid of turning 4 because-- as you put it-- "my whole life will change." But I want you to know that that's not always a bad thing. When you were born, my whole life changed, and I could spend forever telling you how grateful I am for that.

I had heard about this magical moment from some women, but things very rarely happened for me in those fairytale ways... people said things like, "You'll never know how much love you can feel until you look at your baby for the first time," or "It's the greatest joy you'll ever have!" and I only half-believed them. I mean, I really did want a baby more than anything, but I still thought they might be exaggerating this supposedly magical, indescribable, otherworldly love. They weren't.

When I first laid eyes on you, I cried. I said, "She's perfect!" and I meant it. And I still do. You, my mess-making, candy-sneaking, bedtime-avoiding girl, are the perfect daughter for me, and I still can't believe I got this lucky.

I thought I knew what mattered before, but I had no idea. You came along and everything that came along before you suddenly seemed inconsequential. The primary function of my life became looking for silly things to stick on my head to make you laugh. Pretending to drop stuff? Sheer genius. Some of the best accomplishments of my life have been: figuring out that you were doing the sign language for "thirsty" and not "I have a thing in my eye," getting you to eat carrots, sewing your Halloween costumes, and getting you potty trained (now THAT was hard!).

Your heart is so full of love, and I get to see it in every little thing you do. When you were off playing yesterday, I saw a little boy fall, and I also saw you rush over and touch his face to ask if he was okay. You didn't know I was looking, but I didn't even need to... the minute I saw him fall, I knew you were going to be the first one to check on him. And when the little girl was afraid of the costumed character, you took her hand and asked, "Do you want to come with me?" Never mind that you're not even six months older than she is; you wanted to be her protector.

You have a wonderful way about you of making everyone around you feel loved. We read a book the other day that had a fill-in-the-blanks exercise at the end, and here's what it looked like:

My name: Sarina
My age: 3 1/2

I feel excited when: my whole family comes to our house to visit

I feel happy when: I am with my mommy

Some of the things I like to do are: Go to Dave & Busters, the library, ice skating, and anywhere else as long as my mommy is with me

I like to learn about: love

My favorite place is: snuggling

We read a Sesame Street book of safety tips next, and you made me read the same Grover line over and over and over, at least 20 times, and you cracked up every single time: "Always wear your safety helmet if you are being shot out of a cannon!" Then you wanted to call Grandma so you could tell it to her, too.

Sometimes I feel very bad that I couldn't give you the kind of family life I know you want. You so desperately want a baby brother or sister, and you're just now starting to understand what divorce means and why your parents live in different houses. It's all you've ever known, so I'm glad that at least you were spared the separation, but I'm also so sorry that things aren't just right. I will continue to work hard at being the best mom I can be for you and hope I can be someone you will always turn to whenever you need a hug or someone to talk to. No one knows what our futures hold, but I hope that wherever we wind up, we'll always be as happy as we are now.

Because that's the thing-- we are happy. No matter what, you are always enough for me. I remember looking down the barrel of being a single mom with such fear, never dreaming that I'd wind up cherishing this time. I've learned so much in these three years... I can take apart the dishwasher, use power tools, assemble "some assembly required" furniture and one giant dollhouse... I'm stronger than I ever knew, and more capable, and I've become very at peace with who I am. That makes me feel so much better about being your mom, because I know now that I'm showing you what it means to feel good about yourself.

Every few days, you tell me your latest career goal. Over time, you've wanted to be: an apple farmer, a ballerina, a gas station attendant ("Because it looks fun?" "No, it looks easy."), a veterinarian "who is always busy," a librarian, a writer, a ghostwriter, a teacher, and your latest-- a tattoo professional. (?!) Whatever you do, I trust you will do it well, and with a giving spirit.

At your preschool orientation, lots of kids cried because they were away from their moms for the first time. You were an old pro at this already, listening to the teachers as they reassured the kids over and over, "Your mommy will always come back for you." So when the time came for preschool to start, you stuck a heart sticker on me and said, "Don't worry, Mommy. I will always come back for you."

You find ways every day to make me feel great, from writing me cards ("How do I spell 'You're the best mommy and I love you more than a dinosaur weighs?'") to making up songs, to proclaiming your love in French and Spanish and "dog language." You humor my endless requests for you to pose for pictures, and you try to let me down easy when you don't like my cooking ("I sort of hated it a little").

You think that because there is an "unfortunately," there should also be a "refortunately," and I find myself agreeing with your logic, so we have added refortunately to our family dictionary, Mirriam and Webster be darned.

Here are some of the things I wish for you:

I wish that you'll never tire of making wishes on dandelion puffs or stars
I wish that you'll always have at least three true friends
I wish that Kira would live forever
I wish that you'll get that baby brother or sister
I wish that you'll always have just enough fear to keep you out of real danger, and never more than that
I wish that people will see you the way I do
I wish for you to know hard work, but not hardship
I wish that your life will be full of music
I wish that you will love learning, and have teachers who will inspire you
I wish that you won't date until you're 25

Being with you is so much fun, and I can't wait to see what you do next. I want you to know that I will love you every day for the rest of your life, and that being your mom is the best honor I've ever had. Thank you for teaching me about who I was meant to be, and thank you for being the best little person I've ever met.

XOXOXOXOX,

Mommy

iTriage App for SmartPhones

2011-01-03T23:55:00.002-05:00

*This is a sponsored post through Mom Bloggers Club.*

I don't do sponsored posts unless I think the info is genuinely useful, and in this case, I do... iTriage is a free medical reference application for Smartphones (iPhone, Android, iPod Touch, and Palm, and coming soon to Blackberry). Here's what it offers:

■ Information on more than 300 symptoms, 1000 diseases, and 350 medical procedures
■ A nationwide directory of hospitals, urgent cares, retail clinics, pharmacies, and physicians
■ Turn-by-turn facility directions from GPS, IP address, or zip code locations
■ Nurse advice lines
■ Detailed quality reports from HealthGrades on hospitals and physicians
■ Help negotiating medical bills
■ Emergency Room wait times for hospitals in select parts of the country

I just downloaded it from the Android Market (fast, no problem) and found the app to be simple to use and full of helpful information all in one place. Were I actually away from home and needing medical care, I think this would be a very handy tool to have. I just did a "test run" by telling this app that I needed emergency care, and within seconds, it showed me the nearest urgent care clinics and hospitals with ERs.

The only disappointment was that when it showed me a link to "See a Quality Report on this Hospital," it just sent me to the HealthGrades home page, rather than supplying a direct link to information on that hospital. Once at HealthGrades, I had to navigate through the tiny fill-in boxes to type in the names and locations of hospitals I was interested in researching. And no wait times listed yet for my area, though that would be an amazing feature!

Then I told the app I had blurry vision, and it came back with the ten most common health problems that cause blurry vision. Clicking on "migraine" gave me links to find medical help, a description of symptoms, tests, treatment, and diagrams.

I'm betting this app will become more useful with time as they keep improving the features, but in the meantime, it's already clearly worth the free download.

Congrats to the Winner of the CSN Stores Gift Certificate

2010-12-18T01:38:00.002-05:00

Random.org selected comment 52, which was from Shellie & Brutus. Congrats!

CSN also gave me a gift certificate that I used toward the purchase of this Wildon Home sheet set. I have a tall mattress, and a stupid propensity for picking fitted sheets that shrink, so lately, the fitted sheet and I have been having a knock-down battle every time I change the linens. Three corners I can manage, but that damn fourth corner turns me into a red-faced, panting, sweating person who hollers, "Come on! Get on there! You jerk!" and hopes nobody ever walks in and sees me in this condition.

So you can see that I was due for some new sheets. Anyway, I've never owned 600 thread count sheets as far as I'm aware-- I mostly pick up whatever's on sale-- and I wanted to see if I could feel the difference. I couldn't. I would fail the Princess and the Pea test, too. But that's okay. They were totally comfortable, but I didn't really get the "ohhh, so this is what it feels like to be on really good sheets" kind of epiphany I hoped for.

These sheets look nice (white, but not too white), feel nice, have a true deep pocket, and are affordable. Thumbs up.

On Searching for Validation

2010-12-13T15:00:00.002-05:00

The thing about writing is that there's no multiple-choice exam you can take to find out if you're doing it right. You know if you're good at math because either you get into the honors classes or you don't... you pass the finals or you fail. With writing, the closest barometer you get in school is to see what kind of grade you get in English class-- or if you're lucky enough to be in a school where "creative writing" is offered (mine didn't offer that), you can check out your grade in that. But it's not objective the way math or science are. Your grade is largely dependent on a single teacher's taste.

A competent teacher can tell you if your grammar stinks, if your writing is full of holes or redundancies, or if you're making common errors-- but there are many areas that teachers can't reliably grade. Your writing style, primarily. Like what I did just there. "Your writing style, primarily" is a fragment, and an English teacher might have red-pencilled it and tried to beat it out of me if I kept writing in fragments. She might have succeeded. Then I would have learned to write in a standard style to please that teacher, but it would have removed some of the flavor from my writing. Sure, fragments aren't technically correct, but that doesn't mean you can't use them in your writing. Plenty of "incorrect" things can be used effectively in your (non-academic) writing.

Some people get so giddy over that fact that they wind up overusing these devices, which is why we have a current crisis of over-perioded sentences, such as:

Best. Day. Ever.

and

I. Am. Not. Going.

We're just rebelling against our English teachers, see. Someone did it first, and we saw it and thought, "That's so rebellious! Cool! I'm going to try it, too!" And then we all did it, and then it got old, but people kept doing it anyway, and here we are today.

*Tangent: I have just discovered Pandora Radio. Heart!*

Anyway, so we all leave school having only the vaguest notion of whether or not we can actually write, and then we write a short story or an article or novel or some other thing and we try to get it published.

We mostly get a resounding lack of response. We sit by the computer and play stupid games on Facebook to distract us from the fact that 624 editors have managed to utterly ignore that our brilliant masterpiece is sitting right there in their inboxes at this very minute. Putzes.

Then we get some rejections, and we realize maybe we aren't the Best Undiscovered Writers on the Planet, but by golly, someone is going to recognize our wonderful just-shy-of-perfect masterpiece. Right?

And maybe there's a small success along the way to keep us going-- a website that wants to publish something we wrote, or a literary magazine, or whatever. See? we say. We are brilliant after all. By two weeks later, though, we are dirt again. No one notices our success. It was probably a stupid website anyway, one that no one reads.

Maybe we have been deluded about this talent. Maybe we really and truly stink, and those form letter rejections that say patronizing things like "Doesn't fit out list at this time, but this is no reflection on your writing talent" are really written just so the sender doesn't have to feel responsible if you toss yourself off your roof because that was the last straw. Which, maybe, does mean that your writing stinks that much that the editor is afraid you're going to off yourself when you realize it.

Here is where there's a divide. You may then go all anti-establishment and decide you're going to self-publish and prove to those big NY houses what a great thing they missed-- at which point, you'll run off with your trumpet and toot away until you realize that, no, you're not going to be the exception, and the 75 people who buy your book will all be people who are related to you or who work with you. (Cue: despair.)

Or you keep at it and keep at it and eventually find a publisher, get giddy with excitement (see? GENIUS!), sign a bunch of contracts you vaguely understand, while being completely convinced that this publisher thinks you are very special and your book is very special and it's going to be on the New York Times Bestseller List, of course.

Then, 3 months before your book comes out, you realize you don't even know your publicist's name, and shouldn't you know your publicist's name? So you find out, and you e-mail her, and she says enthusiastic things like, "Hello!" and "I'm so eager to work with you!" You love her! Within the next six months, you will hate her. You will think she is probably spending all day painting her nails and talking to her boyfriend on the phone when she's supposed to be out there pitching your special, special book! Does she not like having a job? Surely someone will soon fire her for incompetence, no?

Your book is released and you and your family run all over town to take pictures of it on real live bookstore shelves. Only it's not on a lot of them. You tell the bookstore manager that you wrote this here book and you'd be happy to do a signing here and autograph as many copies as he likes, and he hands you a Sharpie and tells you to sign just two, in case he needs to return the rest. Ouch.

Where is your book tour? Where is your Oprah appearance? The personal driver? The private jet?

Feh. No matter. You will move on, because you are a survivor, and if this book helps just one person...

Oh, who are you kidding? If only one person likes your book, you're going to be devastated. You want thousands of people to like your book. But the professional reviews are... well, where are they, anyway? You lucked out and got one. Didn't that lazy publicist send out your galleys to the others?

She did? Oh. Well, she probably forgot the cover sheet, then.

And you wait for your Amazon reviews, which do come in, but much slower than you expected, and even though they're pretty good, they don't seem to do a whole lot for your sales numbers, which are less than what you had hoped.

And so you're right back to where you started, wondering if you're any good at this writing thing after all. Because if it's a great book, shouldn't people be reading it? Shouldn't they be telling others about it? Shouldn't it naturally rise to the bestseller lists based on merit?

Kinda. And kinda not. There really and truly are great books that don't even get published, let alone make it to bestseller lists. Which is not to say that it's total anarchy out there and the odds are random. No, publishing is still skewed toward those who actually do write good books, thank heavens, but it's not perfect. Some writers get lucky and their books, for whatever reason, wind up attracting lots of media attention. Others remain just as talented but largely invisible.

So it is that you never really know if you're any good. Even the bestselling writers don't know for sure. Many of the top sellers are regularly insulted by writers in the trenches-- partly out of jealousy, of course, but also partly because sometimes popular writing isn't the pinnacle of beautiful writing.

And maybe you hang in there long enough that one day, it no longer matters if you know for sure where your talent lies on the overall scale. Maybe you keep improving and learning and wind up with a loyal following, and you get book deals that make you happy, and you get to spend your career doing something you love and not eating Ramen noodles exclusively. Maybe you learn that you love what you write, and that's enough, too.

All of the things that seem very important for validation when you're at the start of your career will continue to matter to you down the line, too-- but they won't seem so life-or-death anymore. Reviews and appearances and awards and all those things are still meaningful to me because they influence my career options, but that's what they are now: they're part of a much bigger picture. My "forest for the trees" is that I want to have a writing career for the rest of my life, and my ego is fairly irrelevant to achieving that. Do the best work you can. Do work you care about. Find good people to work with. There will be disappointments along the way, but there will also be joys. Cultivate the latter and forget the former. Validate yourself. And not in a dirty way, either. (Perv.)

An Open Letter to the Twitter Agents (And Writers)

2010-12-07T18:06:00.006-05:00

I have pissed off the Twitter agents. It all started when one was lamenting the fact that writers sometimes accept offers of representation without checking in with the other agents they've submitted to first, and I responded with my view on why writers might do that. Ugliness ensued. And because I can't adequately respond in 140 characters or less, I figured I'd respond in an open letter here. (I was in the middle of a completely different post for writers, but that'll have to wait a bit. It'll be awesome, I promise.)

This is the actual exchange:

literaticat: For the third time this week, somebody has accepted representation from another agent without giving me the chance to respond. Grr.

If you don't want me to even have the chance to be your agent WHY ARE YOU WASTING MY TIME & FILLING MY INBOX IN THE FIRST PLACE?

I'm not MAD, just, why not give yourself options? Get an offer, tell the other agents - chances are one of them might be interested too.

Me (GhostwriterJG): Hope this isn't rude considering circumstances, but if my #1 pick said yes, I wouldn't feel the need to wait for other answers.

Plus, it feels mean to tell an agent who's loving you and offering rep, "Great! Let me see what your competitors say first."

Without rehashing all the responses, there was a resounding POUNCE! sound, and comments such as that writers like me have no basic business sense, are being dumb, that I've rebuked a smart agent's advice, and "when I see an experienced agent trying to educate people and being slapped down for it online, it pisses me off."

To give this context, I'm primarily a ghostwriter, working in adult nonfiction. I've just signed my 20th book publishing contract. You can see many of my books over there in the sidebar. ---> I don't work with one agent exclusively at this point. I used to, when I was mostly writing my own books, but now, several agents refer their clients to me when they're looking for ghostwriters. (And several editors call on me directly.) There's plenty more in my background about the massive amount of time over the years I've spent helping to educate writers. You can find that out if you care to do basic research.

But back to the current issue. I do sometimes take on clients who don't yet have agents, and I help them with that process, so I've been through the agent search many times for many people. This is approximately how it works:

Client and I are working on a book proposal in the self-help genre. I prepare a list of all the agents I can think of who might be a good fit. To do this, I search (a) the acknowledgments sections of self-help books that are similar, or that I know sold very well; (b) www.PublishersMarketplace.com, where I do searches by genre to see who's sold what; and (c) www.AgentQuery.com, where I can also do genre searches.

As I go along, I narrow my list. My priorities look like this:

1. Track record in the genre: Has this agent made many sales in this genre? Does PublishersMarketplace list them as "nice" sales (low advances), or does the agent have any big deals?

2. Overall track record: Has the agent been in business for long? If not, does the agent have other significant experience-- such as editing for a major publisher?

3. Client recommendations: Does the agent's clients rave about him or her?

4. Personal instincts: Sometimes, you can just feel that an agent would be a good fit for the book based on things like the agent's writing style, personal hobbies or causes, or other factors.

At this point, I probably have a list of less than 10 agents who I feel would be a good match for the book. Among those, one or two are probably my "dream agents" for this project-- agents who've made multiple big deals in my genre, and whose clients love them.

So I send out the proposal. Now that I'm an experienced writer, I may only send it to one or two at a time because I have personal relationships with agents and try to give the ones I love first-look opportunities. Even when I don't know the agents, though, I know that I have the clout to get an answer quickly and that my proposals almost always sell. But when I was newer, I would have sent my query to all of those under-ten agents at once, because it doesn't make sense to wait and wait for individual answers to queries, further slowing down the already slow pace of the publishing industry.

Let's say that I query nine agents, and four ask to see the proposal. Mentioning that it's a simultaneous submission, I send to all four and try not to chew my nails off waiting for responses. I work on something else in the meantime.

A week later, I get a call. It's my dream agent, bubbling over with enthusiasm about my project. "I love it and I can sell it," he tells me. We have a great chat and I feel confident that he has the contacts and experience to back up his words.

This ends my search. I write to the other three agents and say, "Thank you so much for your interest in my work. I'm writing to let you know that I've accepted another offer of representation."

This, to me, is the most decent and sensible approach. If I already know that my top pick said yes, I don't want to waste anyone's time by having them read my proposal while I know I'm not going to accept their offer if they say yes anyway. And I want to give that top pick the respect he or she deserves by being definitive about my answer.

"But what if another agent were more enthusiastic about your work? You'd never know!" Enthusiasm-- while terrific-- is not the main factor for me. Agents with no credits at all can be very enthusiastic, but their enthusiasm will not sell the proposal. So it's track record first, enthusiasm second. (I want both, of course.)

If there is no clear frontrunner among my four interested agents (or if I wasn't utterly positive that my first-responder really "got" my book or my goals), then I'd say to that agent, "Thank you so much! I have a few other agents reading it at the moment. Can you give me a week to respond?" Then I'd write to those other agents and tell them, "I've been offered representation, but I'd like to hear back from you before I accept it. Do you think you could read my proposal and get back to me by Friday?"

Then I'd hear out any offers, go back to my list of priorities, and try to determine which one I think might be the best match for me or my client.

This is the process that has worked for me, and I have long-standing relationships with many terrific agents and editors, so I don't plan on changing it. I also know that agents and editors are not the only people who know anything about publishing. Indeed, there are plenty of smart writers out there whose advice should be considered as well. I don't accept that I should not dare to question or offer another viewpoint because I am not an agent.

Searching for an agent is a different process from searching for a publisher, which I think is obvious enough that I'm not going to bother defending myself against the "how would you like it if your agent accepted the first publishing offer that came along" comparison.

It bothers me that it seems even agents can get caught up in "groupthink." And that the nastiness I received to my response (which was not in any way "rebuking" or disrespecting anyone) has distracted me from my real work today. So I'm going to get back to it now.

Great Holiday Gifts for Preschoolers

2010-12-05T01:32:00.003-05:00

'Tis that time again, and I have to admit, I'm really excited to see the look on Sarina's face when she opens up her gifts this year. This is the first time she was able to make a "list" for Santa, so I know I've done right with most of the things I've bought her. For those of you who are looking for ideas for a preschooler, I thought I'd share with you some of the best toys and games we already own or I've already tested out:

1. Mobigo

Sarina has owned the Mobigo since last summer, and it's been a steadfast companion whenever we have downtime. It's a terrific little handheld gaming/learning system for young kids (they suggest 3-8, and I agree). Simple to use, with a slide-out QWERTY keyboard, and the game it comes with is very good quality. My daughter has just one other game so far, and it's kept her entertained for months. Every time she finishes a game, she rushes over with excitement to show me her new score.

2. FurReal Friends Lulu

The same size and softness as a real cat, this one's the next best thing. It purrs, it rolls over to have its belly pet, it meows, it blinks... it can sense when you walk by or wave your hand in front of it (it meows for your attention). In short, it's a great option if you have a child who loves cats, but can't have one due to allergies or other reasons. Or in my case, a child who wants another cat, but Momma really doesn't. About the only negative is that you can hear a mechanical noise as it moves around, which does take away a bit of the mystique.

3. Pillow Pets

This was the first item on my daughter's Christmas list this year, and I knew it was going to be one of the "hot" toys, so I bought it way early in case it sold out. Well, it hasn't sold out by any means, so you can still grab one if you like. It's a stuffed animal that doubles as a pillow when you "un-Velcro" the bottom. My only issue was that the unicorn my daughter wanted has inconsistent quality-- many of them have fur "growing over" their eyes, to the point where you can barely see any eyes at all. But I took my chances with the scissors, and found that a good haircut was all that was needed. These Pillow Pets are a good size (unlike some smaller knock-offs), soft, and very kid-approved.

4. Step2 Deluxe Canyon Road Train Table

One of my best purchases-- I bought this before Sarina was even 2 years old, and it's still going strong. What's so great about this train table is that it's all built in-- there are no little parts to lose. It's molded plastic, so you don't have to worry about it falling apart. It's very durable, and good for playdates for both boys and girls. You can use Thomas or other trains in it, as well.

5. Baby Alive 1st For Me

Although it's marketed for babies, this "first doll" is also perfectly appropriate to preschool girls who are going through a mothering phase. Right now, my daughter is all about taking care of babies, and this one is a wonderful pick. It makes appropriate cooing and giggling noises, and there's a fabric bottle attached to her hand that you can use to "feed" her-- there's also a sensor, so the baby makes sucking noises during feedings.

6. Monster Feet

The price varies on these on Amazon. I bought mine for under $10. Pretty self-explanatory: they're plastic "monster feet" steppers with rope handles to hang on to. Like mini-stilts. They're recommended for kids age 5-8, but I think a coordinated 3 or 4 year old would do fine with them, too. I'm presenting them to Sarina as dinosaur feet, so she can clomp around the house while singing Laurie Berkner's "We Are the Dinosaurs."

7. Shake 'n' Go Buzz Lightyear

The simplest racecar I've ever seen. All you do is shake it up, then put it on the ground, and it goes. The longer you shake it, the further it drives (up to 20 feet). Great for little ones who haven't mastered the motor skills needed for fancier remote controlled cars. It also makes engine sounds and says a few of Buzz's favorite phrases.

Happy shopping!

Win a $40 Gift Certificate to CSN Stores

2010-11-26T03:36:00.004-05:00

Happy Thanksgiving, readers! I'm thankful for you. And for stuffing. Mmmm, stuffing.

Just in time for the holidays, CSN Stores has done it again-- they're offering one of my super readers a gift certificate that you can use in any of their stores. And those stores are mighty diverse. You can get just about anything there, from a stool to a bed.

To win, all you have to do is leave a comment here telling me something that's made you happy this week.

For extra entries, you can do any of these things (leave me a separate comment for each thing you do):

1. Follow me on Twitter at www.twitter.com/GhostwriterJG

2. Follow my blog on Google Friend Connect. (Look over there in the right sidebar for the follow button ---> )

3. Tweet about this contest. Use whatever wording you want, but here's one example: Win a $40 GC to CSN Stores from @GhostwriterJG at http://jennaglatzer.blogspot.com/.

4. Review any of my books on Amazon, Goodreads , BN.com, or your own blog for 5 extra entries. (Leave 5 separate comments to tell me you've done so.) (You can find a list of my books over there on the right or on http://www.jennaglatzer.com/ to see if you've read any of them.)

Contest closes on December 13 at 11:59 ET and I'll announce a winner on December 14. Make sure I have a way to contact you if you win-- either have your e-mail address visible in your profile or leave your e-mail address here.

Good luck!

The Spirit of Les Miserables

2010-11-18T00:13:00.003-05:00

My mom called last week to tell me that there would be a one-night-only showing at my local movie theatre of the 25th anniversary concert of Les Miserables at the O2 Theatre, and she asked if I wanted to go. Of course I did; I lost count of how many times I saw Les Mis on Broadway, but it was approximately 8, sheerly because I could not afford to go every weekend. All but the last were spectacular. (The last one was an off-Broadway revival, and it was pathetic.)

The first time I saw it was around 1987, which made me either 11 or 12. Colm Wilkinson was starring. The dynamics of the show are a big part of its magic-- from the booming, rousing group songs to the pin-drop moments between phrases of "Bring Him Home." I am convinced that anyone who isn't moved by that song is clinically deceased.

Tonight's showing was sold out, and my parents, brother, and I had to sit separately from one another (though close enough for me to lean forward and tap two of them, at least).

Nick Jonas played Marius, the young male lead. Turns out that about 1/4 of the audience were girls who squealed every time he made a pained expression and complained bitterly when he kissed Cosette. And that was fine. It was even sort of endearing. But it was the rest of the audience who created the atmosphere that made me want to envelop all of them and take them home with me and beg them to create a commune with me, and...

Sorry, I'll back up. It's that all of us-- ALL OF US-- were singing every word, politely, quietly, because we couldn't help ourselves. We breathed together. I got chills right to the top of my scalp. At the end of every song, we applauded, though there were no actors there to receive our applause. It didn't matter-- we had to applaud anyway, or our heads would pop off from trying to bottle it up.

The man next to my mom was mentally challenged, and couldn't quiet his excitement. He sang every word, spoke the actors' names aloud, and sobbed so hard that he choked and sputtered at every emotional moment. When it came time to introduce the writers, the lyricist, the producer, he shouted enthusiastically, "Look! He's here, too!" He knew every one of their names, and the names of each of the members of several different productions.

There were teenagers there who had done Les Mis in their high school productions. There were parents and grandparents and couples and singles.

I sat there in this theatre feeling very at home for the first time in a long time. THESE ARE MY PEOPLE. After all these years of being away from performing, there is still nowhere on earth I can remember feeling as near to God as in a theatre. There are moments when everything else falls away except for that perfect note, that silhouetted spotlight, the echo of the orchestra. Moments when I forget to breathe.

The end of the concert came, and the cast bowed. Then they showed the two London casts. Then came a sign on the screen that said, "Original 1985 Cast." Out came the performers-- a dozen? Two dozen? I was too excited to pay close attention. I giggled with joy and tapped my dad. "Oh my God! They're all there!" It was like seeing old friends, all in one place again.

We both leaned forward in our seats, just loving this moment, getting to see the original cast up there on stage with their younger counterparts, smiling and waving. There was wild applause until it petered out. A moment of silence. And then it happened.

The opening notes sounded out on the piano.

It's happening. He's going to... it can't be true. It is. He is!

It was that moment when you know that a wonderful thing is about to happen-- it's really going to happen, and you can't even stop it if you wanted to, but why would you want to? He stood in front of the microphone.

God... on... high...

Colm Wilkinson, 25 years later, in the role he created. There were gasps. There were sobs. A good portion of them were mine. I didn't even bother trying to stop the tears as this man rang out in perfect falsetto one of the most beautiful songs ever written. Others joined him, but I tried to block them out (sorry, others). For me, it was an awakening of a part of me I'd forgotten even existed. A spiritual part.

...in my need, you have always been there...

"If I had known that was going to happen," my dad said, "I would have flown to London."

Thank you, everyone involved with Les Miserables through all these years, and thank you, audience, for an extraordinary night.

Dropping Out of the "Mompetition"

2010-11-15T22:48:00.004-05:00

For the past 20 minutes or so, I've been inwardly huffing and puffing about a post I read where a non-parent denounced child harnesses (usually cute backpacks with "leashes"), calling them cruel. She insisted that parents who use them are lazy and that the kids will grow up to be rebellious, drunken teens who can't wait to get away from their parents.

First, I don't use a harness on Sarina. But I do know something about the absolute terror of having your little child outrun you at an amusement park, resurfacing at the top of a ride she didn't belong on. I would never judge someone for using a harness. Others who do just can't get past the "leash" imagery, but you know what? It's less restrictive than holding a child's hand firmly or placing a child in a stroller or baby carrier. Where are all the insulting outcries about how children are being oppressed because they're in strollers? A harness gives the child some range of movement, some autonomy. It shouldn't be used as an excuse for inattentiveness or lazy parenting, but it also shouldn't be discouraged because some adults will tsk tsk and snoot all over the parents who use them.

Which brings me, of course, to the "Mommy Wars" and the "Mompetition." That's when moms negatively judge other moms' decisions and preferences, playing a game of one-upmanship about whose methods are the "right" ones. It's ugly, and it starts before a child is even born-- did you get a flu shot while pregnant? Then you're either probably injecting your child with poison with unknown long-term effects or being irresponsible for putting your child at risk of brain damage when you get the flu. Are you eating peanut butter? Then you're either doing a great job to lower your child's risk of getting a peanut allergy, or you're so damn selfish that you won't even avoid peanut butter for 9 months to lower your child's risk of a peanut allergy. (That's right. The experts have flip-flopped.) Are you getting an epidural? A c-section? A homebirth? Well, do you even KNOW how much you're abusing your unborn child by getting him stoned/doing an unneccesary procedure/not being in reach of emergency medical personnel?

(Funny video about the Mompetition)

It's not even limited to moms-- women who don't have kids will often start their judgmental nonsense with, "I'm not a mom, but I've been a [babysitter, aunt, teacher, nanny]." Sorry, not the same. Not the same.

Once the baby is out, it's like a fountain of new things for moms to get all mompetitive about. Circumcision and breastfeeding are just the most obvious ones. Then there's cosleeping, babywearing, canned vs. homemade baby food, pacifiers vs. thumb-sucking, developmental milestones, vaccines, whether or not to ban all television, whether it okay to go back to work and when it's okay, and so on.

You have the OMG! You gave your child a french fry? moms, and the Kids today need more discipline! moms. The ones who say, "Boys will be boys" and the ones who say, "If your child pulls my child's hair, I will sue you."

This is totally different from the legitimate reasons to be judgmental. If you smoke around your kids, I am going to judge the hell out of you, because you are full of suck. If you leave your kid in front of the television for hours so you can gossip on the phone with your cousin, I will judge you. If you leave your baby to "cry it out," I will judge you, because it is proven to harm children, period, full stop. If you hit your kids or verbally abuse your kids, I will hope you land in the hottest corner of hell. Oh, and I'll judge you. Oh yes, I will judge you.

But all those hoity-toities who like to give sharp glances because they see a child having a tantrum, or a mother who gives in and buys the candy at the checkout line, those people can bite me. Other moms' decisions don't have to match up with ours, and we do not know how we would act were we in someone else's life. I don't know what it's like to have five kids. Maybe you don't know what it's like to be a single mom. There are things about each of our lives that affect our decisions. As long as we're all offering a lot of love and attention to our kids, and not purposely putting our kids in harm's way, then there's no reason to get into the mompetition. It's stressful enough being responsible for a child without all the added bitchery by fellow moms who should be our friends and confidantes.

So I'm dropping out of the mompetition. Don't try to drag me back in, either. I'm going to make the best decisions I can for my child, and I'll expect you to do the same, and we can send each other nothing but the best wishes. Okay?

Amazon Boycott: The Pedophile's Guide to Love and Pleasure

2010-11-10T16:58:00.009-05:00

I love Amazon... or at least, I did, until today.

Today, Amazon took a stand! For pedophilia!

Uh... huh?

No, seriously. Amazon is selling this in their Kindle store: The Pedophile's Guide to Love and Pleasure. (UPDATE: as of Nov. 11, the page is down. I've captured screenshots of what the listing looked like, and you can view them as a .pdf file here.)

This is the author's description:

"This is my attempt to make pedophile situations safer for those juveniles that find themselves involved in them, by establishing certian rules for these adults to follow. I hope to achieve this by appealing to the better nature of pedosexuals, with hope that their doing so will result in less hatred and perhaps liter [sic] sentences should they ever be caught."

Now, anyone can publish anything on Amazon's self-publishing platform, mind you. I don't blame Amazon for not catching it immediately. What I DO blame them for is their deplorable response to the situation once they were made aware of it... over and over and over.

Amazon has received complaints about this book for at least the past few days. I found out about it this morning, as did thousands of others, who flooded their customer service phone lines, e-mail support, reviews, and alerted the media.

I called Amazon twice and got nowhere-- the first (outsourced in India) support person who answered told me he couldn't do anything because their systems were down and I should call back later. I told him I didn't need anything in their "systems." I just wanted to voice my concern that they were stocking this book. He acted confused and told me there was nothing he could do while their systems were down. So I called back later and the second support person "accidentally" disconnected me when I mentioned the Pedophile's Guide and asked if they were planning to remove it.

I've since e-mailed and used the "feedback" form, to no avail. Others have gotten this response:

As a retailer, our goal is to provide customers with the broadest selection possible so they can find, discover, and buy any item they might be seeking. That selection includes some items which many people may find objectionable. Therefore, the items offered on our website represent a wide spectrum of opinions on a variety of topics.
Let me assure you that Amazon.com does not support or promote hatred or criminal acts; we do support the right of every individual to make their own purchasing decisions.
Amazon.com believes it is censorship not to sell certain titles because we believe their message is objectionable. Therefore, we'll continue to make controversial works available in the United States and everywhere else, except where they're
prohibited by law. We also allow readers, authors, and publishers to express their views freely about these titles and other products we offer on our website.
However, Amazon.com doesn't endorse opinions expressed by individual authors, musical artists, or filmmakers.

Several problems with this statement.

1. "As a retailer, our goal is to provide customers with the broadest selection possible so they can find, discover, and buy any item they might be seeking."

And that includes books on pedophilia. Thank you so much, Amazon, for this noble goal of yours to make it easier for pedophiles to find the how-to guide they might be seeking.

2. "Let me assure you that Amazon.com does not support or promote hatred or criminal acts."

In fact, Amazon, you do. You are supporting a criminal act against children-- and even promoting it-- by advertising and selling this book. No one is forcing you to carry this book. You are doing it. You are encouraging people to buy this guide and learn how to be a better pedophile.

3. Amazon.com believes it is censorship not to sell certain titles because we believe their message is objectionable.

That's not in any way censorship. Amazon is a private company and can choose what to stock and what not to stock.

4. We also allow readers, authors, and publishers to express their views freely about these titles and other products we offer on our website.

Liars. Dozens of people complained that their reviews were removed when they posted negative reviews this morning. When I first looked, there were only about 12 reviews-- despite others saying there were more than 100 earlier. Now there are more than 500, so it appears Amazon has either lost its grip on deleting all the reviews as they come in, or are rethinking this strategy. But, if you're going to call "censorship," THAT is much closer to the definition. Removing negative responses to a book while claiming to allow open reviews is censoring.

Free speech doesn't apply here, either. It was this creep's right to write and publish the book, but that doesn't mean that anyone has to sell it. Choosing to do so implies that either (1) you actively support pedophilia and would like to encourage others to try it, or (b) you don't give a shit and just want to make money. Or both.

Jeff Bezos, I thought better of you.

When writers self-publish on the Kindle, they also have to agree to the Terms of Service that says, among other things, that their book is not pornographic. So let's get this straight: pornographic material featuring consenting adults is not okay, but manuals about how to rape or molest children and get away with it are A-OK!

I have never boycotted anything, ever. Today begins my Amazon boycott. That hurts me... I shop at Amazon every week, I have a Prime membership, and I get terrific bargains for my family. But I can't support a company that is actively helping teach people how to molest my daughter... and defending their right to do so.

If you agree, here are some ways to make yourself heard:

Use the blue "Feedback" box on the bottom of the book's page to report it.

Amazon customer service: 1-800-201-7575 (or 1-206-266-2992 from outside the U.S.)

Kindle support: 1-866-321-8851 (or 1-206-266-0927 from outside the U.S.)

Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos: jeff@amazon.com

"Community help" e-mail: community-help@amazon.com

Call and write to your local media: newspapers, magazines, television news programs, and radio.

Boycott Amazon until they remove this book.

My own book links (on the right sidebar and elsewhere) point to Amazon. I'm not removing those links yet because it would be very tedious to take them all down and put them back up if Amazon does the right thing-- which I very much hope they will do, quickly. But I will ask that if you do buy my books, please buy them from BN.com or elsewhere in the meantime.

I am a rape survivor. I was 10, and I was asleep in my own home, and so were my parents. If you think pedophiles can't strike you or your kids, think again. This isn't just something that happens to "other people." It happens to us.

UPDATE: 11:55 p.m. Nov. 10

My friend Foinah Jameson called customer service and wrote, "They assured me that this item would definitely be removed within the next few hours. The rep I spoke with said that there had been hundreds of tickets logged regarding this matter in the last hour -- he had personally done ten himself. He was horrified by this book. Take a moment to call customer service. It's worth it."

I was very glad, and called customer service again. Their response to me was the opposite: that Amazon would NOT stop selling the book, but that they would put up details in 24-48 hours stating that they don't endorse or promote its content. They don't believe in censorship. And they hoped I would be happy.

The service rep got an earful from me. She remained perky and unconcerned as I explained that selling an item IS endorsing it and promoting it, and that I am amazed that Amazon would take such a stance against its own customers-- alienating most of the human race for what? To stand up for a pedophile's "right" to teach others how to rape children?

She said, "If you honestly feel that way, then I'm sorry, but we don't believe in censorship."

If I honestly feel that way? No, I'm just kidding about it, lady. I'm just acting all mad, but I really think pedophilia sounds fun. Let's all try it!

This is not about censorship. It is not censorship to choose not to sell an item. If it were, then every other store on the planet could be accused of censorship, as none of them attempt to sell "everything." Corporate buyers make decisions about what to stock and what not to stock. Amazon can choose not to stock this, without having anything to do with the Constitution, the right to free speech, or censorship! It's just a simple business decision.

That decision should have been made much easier by the fact that Amazon's customers are speaking loud and clear about how much this is angering us. You just don't piss off the majority of your customers and expect to keep going with business as usual.

Until now, Amazon has had a clear lead in online sales of not only books, but just about everything. Were I a shareholder, I'd be very nervous right now. I really think today will have long-standing consequences.

Even if they pull the book now, I know my opinion of Amazon has changed permanently.

They've censored my reviews before (and yes, I do mean "censored"), but this is the book they're going to bat for. This is the one they're standing behind, willing to lose thousands of loyal customers, willing to spit in the faces of every one of us who's ever been affected by a pedophile.

CBS and CNN have run stories on this now, and the book's link temporarily went down during those broadcasts. The link and book are back now. And I'm more disgusted by Amazon every second.

UPDATE 12:36 a.m. Nov. 11

Here's a link to Amazon's own self-publishing guidelines:
http://forums.digitaltextplatform.com/dtpforums/entry.jspa?externalID=122&categoryID=27
(Thanks, Celina Summers!)

Here's an excerpt:

If Amazon Digital Services, Inc. determines that the content of a Title is prohibited, we may summarily remove or alter it without returning any fees. Amazon Digital Services, Inc. reserves the right to make judgments about whether or not content is appropriate.Please take a moment to familiarize yourself with some examples of prohibited content:

Pornography
Pornography and hard-core material that depicts graphic sexual acts.

Offensive Material
What we deem offensive is probably about what you would expect. Amazon Digital Services, Inc. reserves the right to determine the appropriateness of Titles sold on our site.

Illegal Items
Titles sold through the Digital Text Platform Program must adhere to all applicable laws. Some Titles that may not be sold include any Titles which may lead to the production of an illegal item or illegal activity.

That's right-- according to its own guidelines, the Pedophile's Guide to Love and Pleasure should be removed immediately. Instead, it's currently the 65th best-selling Kindle title. Way to go, Amazon.

I invented a thing (with egg salad)

2010-11-04T00:23:00.003-04:00

It started when my new coauthor, Paula Bloom, posted a video where this guy shows us how to peel hard-boiled eggs just by blowing on them:

By the way, he's lying about the baking soda being "key." Totally don't need it. It's just easier to peel (or, er, blow) eggs that are not very fresh, so choose eggs that have been sitting around in your fridge for a few days.

Anyway, I had to find an excuse to try this, so I decided to make egg salad. Egg salad and I have a bit of a checkered past. See, I loved it when I was a wee one. My dad proudly told me a story over and over and over (still does) about how he got the "secret recipe" from a deli owner one day. He used to frequent a Brooklyn deli and loved their egg salad, and kept bugging the owner about the recipe. He knew there was a secret ingredient, but the owner refused to tell him what it was, because then he knew my dad could make it at home and stop coming to the deli.

Well, finally, my dad was about to move to Long Island, and he went to the deli one last time and begged the owner to tell him the secret now, considering he couldn't drive to the deli for lunch anymore anyway. The guy whispered to him, "Pickle juice."

I loved this story in the first grade. Pickle juice in my egg salad! What a great secret ingredient! (About a tablespoon per sandwich, if you're curious.) And for some reason, I thought it would improve my social status if I revealed this secret ingredient to my classmates. However, at least one got it in her head that this was disgusting, and told everyone else in the class that it I was a freak, and it was the very first thing I can ever remember being teased about. Every time I opened my lunch box, that girl or her friends would make scrunched up faces and ask me if I had any gross foods with pickle juice today.

I think that ruined my taste for egg salad for years. But now I'm all evolved and stuff, so screw them!

With my eggs all boiled, I tried the blowing technique. It was a success. (Don't worry-- I'm not feeding these eggs to anyone but myself.) Then I turned to the fridge and... no pickles. Rats! What good is egg salad without pickle juice? No good, I tell you. I had to improvise.

So I decided to try the lime juice. And you know what? It's good. It's no pickle juice, mind you, but in a pinch, if you ever find yourself with a batch of egg salad and no jar of pickles, squirt a whole bunch of lime juice over it. Just don't tell your first grade classmates. You're welcome.

Where Commercialism Rears Its Head

2010-10-30T00:37:00.003-04:00

"Funny you should ask that, Bob. As it says in my book, in chapter 4..."

That's where I roll my eyes and change the radio station or TV channel. I hate... freakin' hate... being "pitched to" in ways that are thinly veiled as something other than pitches. Free webinars that are really just teasers to try to get you to buy big packages of audio books and DVDs, free e-books that promise to tell you all the REAL secrets in the book that you have to pay for... etc.

I think I've struggled with the concept of self-promotion-- and commercialism in general-- since college, when I was an advertising major. Actually, I started as a fine art major, but by sophomore year, realized I wasn't good enough, so I switched into advertising. By the end of junior year, however, I realized I didn't want to spend my life convincing people to buy things they didn't need and couldn't afford.

It's just that it was too late for me to switch majors again without adding another year to my tuition bill, so I graduated, knowing full well I wouldn't use the degree for its intended purpose. (I did take writing classes in school, though, and college was worth it for altogether different purposes, so I'm not complaining.)

As a writer, I struggle with it on an ongoing basis. I'm just not a J.A. Konrath, though he fascinates me. And it's partly about the kinds of books I write, I think. It's not easy to get all "Tweet this!" and "Buy my book and I'll throw in a free report!" when the subject matter is, say, the murder of a 15-year-old boy (My Stolen Son: The Nick Markowitz Story).

It's even harder for Nick's mom to navigate, though. She and I have different sensibilities about promotion. She has no qualms about going up to people and asking them to buy her book, but this has also given the murderer's friends/family fuel for their vitriol. Under pseudonyms, they use it to attack her character, saying that she's making money off her son's murder.

Well, if you want to go that route, actually, I'm the one making money off her son's murder.

Susan paid her entire advance and then some to me to write the book with her. Don't think that makes me happy, either. It makes me profoundly uncomfortable. Usually, when I ghostwrite books, there's enough advance money for my client and me to split in a way that makes us both happy. Every now and then, there isn't, and then the client has to make a decision about whether to keep me, whether to go with a less experienced (cheaper) writer, or any one of several other options (self-publish, try for another offer, etc.).

Anyway, Susan kept me, mostly because money had nothing to do with why she wants this book to sell. She did this book because she needed to find a purpose to go on living. Her only child was killed over the stupidest damn thing-- a drug debt owed by his half-brother-- and Susan was in and out of mental hospitals for years, trying to kill herself every few months. Mostly pills, which would mean she'd get her stomach pumped and have pointy objects taken away for a few days, then she'd get released again and try to figure out if anything had changed... nope. Her son was still dead and she still wanted to join him.

His murder was made into a movie (Alpha Dog, which was fictionalized somewhat, but true to the main facts), and the person who pulled the trigger was sentenced to the death penalty. The person who ordered the murder, however (Jesse James Hollywood-- yes, his real name), went on the run and evaded capture for years. He impregnanted a woman in Brazil after learning that Brazil wouldn't extradite someone who fathered a child there. Luckily, when police finally did track him down, they didn't have to worry about extradition. He was there illegally, so he was simply deported, then arrested when he landed in California.

It took nearly 10 years from the time of the murder until the time when Hollywood was sentenced. He was just sentenced earlier this year-- life in prison without the possibility of parole.

When the media asked for her comments, Susan said she was writing a book.

The majority of people were very supportive. A few were nasty. One accused her of trying to get her 15 minutes of fame (because, sure, everyone wants their son to be brutally murdered so they can be famous, right?). Another basically said she was tacky and should leave the selling to the publisher.

When Susan started her work on this book, it was more like a journal, and I think it was mostly for her own therapy. Over time, it became something more. There were lessons here, insights she wanted to pass on. Part of her motive was still to share her memories about her son, so it wouldn't feel so much like he was just "gone," and part of it was to show people-- in a brutally honest way-- where things went wrong. How the family got to the point where things were so out of control, and what the aftermath was like.

It's very hard to sell earnestness, though. I wish it didn't feel so in conflict-- wanting to tell everyone, "BUY THIS BOOK! IT MATTERS! IT'LL STICK WITH YOU FOREVER!" yet knowing there's an undercurrent of "And I have a financial stake in it!"

I have to believe that we'll strike the right balance, and that most people will understand that we both worked on this book for the right reasons. Making money is a fine goal; it just wasn't the main goal for this book. I wanted to do it because it felt like an honor; Susan wanted to do it because it might just mean her son's death wasn't for nothing. Together, we wrote a damn fine book, and I'm trying to step out of my happy little shadow to make sure the world knows it.

P.S. New review at True Crime Book Reviews-- "She is so open, so brutally honest, so personable – I spent three-fourths of this book in tears..." Thank you, Kim Cantrell.

Win a $50 Gift Certificate to CSN Stores

2010-10-19T00:16:00.004-04:00

**CONTEST CLOSED**

Congrats to the winner, Debbie C, comment #166!

Thanks, too, to CSN Stores, for allowing me to review one of their products. I chose the Patch Products Building Words Tabletop Pocket Chart ($15.25). It's a very cool tool for kids who are starting to learn how to read and spell. It includes pictures of simple things: a cat, a bug, a pot-- all three-letter words-- along with the cardboard letters needed to spell all those words. Kids place the cardboard letters into vinyl "sleeves" to spell out the words, and when not in use, all the letters and pictures get stored in a big pocket in back of the chart. Love it!

-----------
Hey, guess what? I have another $50 gift certificate to CSN Stores to share with you, my glorious and splendid blog readers.

CSN is a great online network of sites where you can find anything you need for your home, from nightstands to rugs.

If you'd like a chance to win, I have a bunch of ways you can do so. Leave a separate comment for each thing you do.

WAYS TO WIN

1. Leave a comment here, telling me one thing that makes you smile.

2. Follow me on Twitter at www.twitter.com/GhostwriterJG

3. Follow my blog on Google Friend Connect. (Look over there in the right sidebar for the follow button ---> )

4. Tweet about this contest. Use whatever wording you want, but here's one example:
Win a $50 GC to CSN Stores from @GhostwriterJG at http://jennaglatzer.blogspot.com/.

5. Review any of my books on Amazon, Goodreads , BN.com, or your own blog for 5 extra entries. (Leave 5 separate comments to tell me you've done so.) (You can find a list of my books over there on the right or on http://www.jennaglatzer.com/ to see if you've read any of them.)

Contest closes on November 1 at 11:59 ET and I'll announce a winner on November 2. Make sure I have a way to contact you if you win-- either have your e-mail address visible in your profile or leave your e-mail address here.

Good luck!

Bullycides and the It Gets Better Project

2010-09-29T16:53:00.004-04:00

Last week, Rutgers freshman Tyler Clementi committed suicide by jumping off the George Washington bridge. He announced that he was about to do it on his Facebook page, then he drove there, left his wallet on the bridge, and jumped.

The reason he did this was that his roommate, Dharun Ravi, secretly videotaped him "making out" with another male and announced it on Twitter... then encouraged everyone on Twitter to watch live streaming video two days later when he secretly turned on the webcam again to watch Tyler. Dharun did this from student Molly Wei's room.

First, let me show you photos of these shmucks:

What an adorable pair, no? Molly with her cross hanging from her neck...

The maximum sentence for the top count of the current charges is a 5-year prison sentence for invasion of privacy for each of them.

What I wish is that Tyler had the kind of social support he needed following this kind of cruelty. That's the intent of the It Gets Better project: http://www.youtube.com/itgetsbetterproject

Two gay men started this channel on YouTube as a direct result of hearing about other recent cases of teens committing suicide because of bullying about their sexuality. On this channel, gay people submit videos of themselves talking about how they had it tough as teens, but that their lives got better and that it would not always be this tough for kids going through bullying and taunting about their sexuality.

I hate that we are in a world where this still happens. Bullying is a topic so close to my heart, and I worked on Joel Haber's important book Bullyproof Your Child for Life because I wanted to contribute something to the anti-bullying efforts. I hesitate to link that here because I don't want anyone to make the leap that I'm trying to sell books on the back of a tragedy like this, but dammit, we need to do something. We need to have parents read books like this, go to seminars to learn about what's really going on with the "new brand" of bullying (through social media sites, webcams, text messages, etc.)... in my mind, it's even worse than "classic" bullying because it makes it so much easier to form an anonymous mob-- some kids who wouldn't think of being cruel to someone's face, but have no problem joining in the online laughter at someone's expense.

It's that mob feeling that makes bullying unbearable-- when you feel like a whole crowd of your peers think you're a joke.

I experienced taunting as a kid, for being nerdy. Kids called me "Jenny Gladnerd." Those kids are mostly now my Facebook friends, congratulating me on all my successes as a writer. I'm a proud nerd now. (See? It's even up top on the description of my blog.) But it was hard then. I can't imagine how hard it was for Tyler, or the huge numbers of kids who go through much worse bullying than I did. All I can do is hurt for them and their families, and try to be part of the solution.

The following links will take you to stories of other kids and young adults who've committed suicide as a result of bullying (also known as "bullycide"). Let's honor them and talk to our kids about this, to make sure they never participate in this kind of cruelty, and to make sure they know that if it happens to them, it WILL GET BETTER.

Denise Baillie, 14

Asher Brown, 13

Kristina Calco, 15

Billy Lucas, 15

Ryan Patrick Halligan, 13

Jared Benjamin High, 13

Karl Peart, 16

Phoebe Prince, 15

Oliver Sabine, 17

Seth Walsh, 13

Corinne Wilson, 13

Sian Yates, 13

Review: Elmo's Healthy Heroes

2010-09-24T01:31:00.004-04:00

The nice people at Sesame Street Live gave me tickets to see Elmo's Healthy Heroes with 3-year-old Sarina... ironically, I got sick just before the show. Sarina-- the little person who got me sick, mind you-- was feeling better, though, so my parents took her to see it at Nassau Coliseum in Uniondale, NY.

Nassau Coliseum is always a great place to see a show. There is so much elevation between rows that you never have to worry about seeing over people's heads-- there's always a good view. And in the case of the children's shows here, they don't take up the whole Coliseum. Maybe a third of the place. The only complaint I heard about the venue is that it was absolutely freezing.

Anyway, I sniffled and stuffled at home while those three were off having the times of their lives, apparently, because as my dear daughter came home bearing a giant Elmo balloon and two light-up whozamajigs that spin, she was bursting with energy and excitement about the show. And my parents were pretty darn jazzed about it, too.

As the show opens, Super Grover comes crashing down out of the sky (he's okay) and can't seem to fly again. The show then becomes about how Super Grover has lost his superness, and the other characters have to figure out how to get him to be super again. They figure out that Grover hasn't been eating right, sleeping right, taking care of his hygiene, or exercising, so they teach him how to turn his health around.

The show is high-energy and full of music-- including some well-known Sesame Street classics like "Somebody Come and Play" and "Doin' the Pigeon," and clever new lyrics set to familiar songs, like James Brown's "I Got You (I Feel Good)" and "I Hope I Get It" from A Chorus Line.

My daughter couldn't wait to show me the "Fabulous Five Cheer" that she learned-- and practiced numerous times in front of the mirror. And the next morning, she told me that she was hungry and ready for breakfast... and that she had to "eat her colors," as she learned from Elmo.

So it worked on all levels, educational and entertainment. All of your favorite characters are in this show (Big Bird, Grover, Elmo, Abby, Cookie Monster, Oscar, Telly, Zoe, Bert and Ernie, Rosita, Prairie Dawn, Grundgetta, Honker, and The Count), and they make a big entrance and interact with the audience. The sound quality was very good, and the costumes, sets, and special effects were lots of fun.

The show runs 90 minutes with an intermission. Even though I didn't get to see it personally, I will trust the delight of my family and tell you that this one's a hit. Check to see if it's coming to a venue near you at http://sesamestreetlive.com/.

Happiness Is...

2010-09-18T20:31:00.003-04:00

when you emerge from the kitchen, where you've just made lunch-- Bubba Burgers, by the way, are quite delicious-- to tell your 3-year-old daughter to come on in, and the first thing you notice is that a drawer is open, and that this open drawer contains just the backing of your Cica-Care, a stupidly expensive sheet of self-adhesive silicone gel that's proven to improve the appearance of scars, and you almost didn't buy it because of the stupidly expensive cost, but in the end, your mother talked you into it because you did have major surgery, after all, and if it would cost $50 to not have a smiley face on your abdomen the rest of your life, you should do it, so you did, but now you see this backing in the open drawer and you know that it is in the hands of your darling daughter, Sarina, who may be doing any one of a number of dastardly things with it right now, and you have a monster cold, which is making you a little off your game right now and not as good at chasing her as usual, but you spot her, right there in the entranceway, moments before she is about to stick the Cica-Care on the cat.

Ahhh.

Our Trip to Sesame Place

2010-09-13T20:34:00.008-04:00

I've never been to Sesame Place before, and now that Sarina is 3, I had been hoping to take her there... luckily, I won four passes from MyWorkButterfly and one from Sesame Place's Twitter account, so I got to bring the whole family!

We arrived the day before our "big day" and stayed at the Radisson Hotel Philadelphia Northeast. There are a couple of hotels right in Langhorne where Sesame Place is, but they're pricier. From the reviews, it seemed like this Radisson would be a good pick-- a very reasonable price and an easy commute.

The reviews were right: the drive was nothing, and the hotel was terrific. We stayed in a 2-room suite that was spectacular. One of the rooms was your basic size hotel room with two double beds, though a step up in terms of decor, cleanliness, and comfort (we got to try Sleep Number beds for the first time... they were interesting, though not as amazing as I'd hoped), but the other room made us feel like we were VIPs. It was huge, with a lovely living room area, in addition to a separate kitchen area and entrance, and a king-size bed. We got a discounted rate, but even without that, it's well worth the full price to get the suite if you can do it. Here are some pictures:

I'd guess that about half the people staying there were Sesame Place people. There were lots of families roaming the hotel with little kids clutching Elmo dolls, wearing Cookie Monster t-shirts, and waving Abby Cadabby wands. We met up with a couple of these families in the hotel's restaurant (good food), and they looked like they'd just seen a war.

"I have never seen anything that crowded in my entire life, and I never want to again," said one dad.

My heart sank. It was a Thursday, for crying out loud. It was that crowded on a Thursday? That didn't bode well for us, who were going on Friday at the end of the summer. I figured Friday had to be an even busier day.

"There weren't many people with the line passes," the mom told us. "If we had it to do over, I'd get those."

She was talking about the "Abby's Unlimited Magic Queue" bracelets you can buy for an extra $30 per person. Not a cheap add-on, but it means you get to cut the line at most of the attractions and even at some of the shows. We took her advice and got passes for four out of six of us, figuring not all of us needed to accompany Sarina on every ride, so we didn't all need passes.

We had been warned to get there very early, because it gets more crowded as the day goes on, but all the worry was for naught-- it was crowded, but "normal" crowded, not crazy-crowded. The line passes were nice, but on the day we went, not a necessity. The waits for the rides were not exhorbitant. On reflection, I think it had been so busy that Thursday because the few days before it had been rainy-- probably all the people who had planned to go on Monday through Wednesday had all piled up on Thursday.

About half the attractions are water-based rides-- such as a wave pool, a family tube ride, and a water slide-- and the other half are dry rides such as a carousel, flying Elmos, and a "mountain" to climb. In our one full day at Sesame Place, we didn't get to all the rides, but I'd guess we went on more than half of them. It was plenty. There are rides appropriate for the littlest ones all the way through adults (I screamed like Drew Barrymore in E.T. all the way down the family tube ride... which led to a wise-ass attendant kicking water at me every time our tube slowed down, and at least two hours of ribbing from my sister, who noted that my 3-year-old daughter was laughing while I was screaming).

But the big event of the day was our character lunch. That's the thing I'd suggest you really don't miss.

Seeing characters at the park throughout the day is very hit-and-miss, and when you do spot them, there's usually a long line to meet them (except Elmo, who has his own picture-taking spot that you can visit). We spotted The Count, Telly, and Abby roaming the park, but didn't stop to talk to them. If you're looking for a little one-on-one hugging time, you have to do a meal with the characters. Totally worth it.

Whoever plays these characters, they're great people. They really take their time at each table and do little things to make the kids feel special. Bert came over to us twice and just sat with us and invited Sarina to sit on his lap (not even complaining when I told him she was wet from the wave pool). Ernie signed "I love you" to my brother. Cookie Monster pretended to eat the cookies we offered him. They make sure that each "roaming" character makes it over to every table, in addition to doing a little dance in the middle of the cafeteria. Big Bird doesn't come around, but he sits in one spot and the kids can line up to visit with him. Elmo also stays in one spot, and a professional photographer snaps pictures with him that you can buy for a few extra bucks if you want to.

The food is passable. Nothing great, but of course, that's not the point. I was too excited to eat much, anyway. I was busy with pictures and video the whole time.

We also went to see a showing of Elmo's World Live, where somehow, Sarina managed to get into the show despite that no one had actually called her to the stage. (The two people in charge of picking volunteers looked at each other and signaled what appeared to me to be something like, "Did you call her up here?" "No. Did you?" "No." "Oh, well. She doesn't look like too much trouble. Give her a costume.") It was a fun little show where about 8 kid volunteers pretended to be fish at various parts. If you like Elmo's World on TV, this will feel a bit surreal, like you've just walked into your television set.

I had just one bad experience at Sesame Place, and it had to do with the attendants not enforcing the rules. At the pool, there's a sign that specifies that no regular diapers are allowed-- kids who wear diapers must be in swim diapers. But there was a boy, maybe 18 months old, wandering around in the pool in a saggy regular diaper. I couldn't figure out who his parents were-- he was totally unsupervised in the water-- so I went and told one of the attendants. He looked appropriately concerned, walked as if he were about to go over to the little boy, then changed his mind and went to talk to the other attendant. Together, they did... nothing.

A few minutes later, the little boy went out of the pool, then right back into it. As we walked along the edge, we spotted the probable reason: a poop, sitting right out at the edge of the pool. This time, I went to the other attendant and told him that there was a giant pile of poop right at the edge of the pool and a little boy in a regular diaper still in the pool. As I walked away, the attendant called to the baby. "Hey, buddy," he said.

Uh, yeah, right. Hey, buddy? An 18-month old is going to understand that and come right over? Of course, he didn't. I watched from he side for another couple of minutes and saw that once again, the attendant did nothing, and Diaper Boy kept frolicking freely. But at least someone came over with a broom and swept the poop away.

I was sufficiently grossed out and we left the pool, but what bugged me more was that that same water is recirculated throughout the park. There are always health dangers that come along with water rides, but this was too much. Those two young attendants should have had the power and inclination to enforce the rules.

After that... interesting... experience, we went to the parade. Get there early and put down a towel if you want to stake out a good spot. We had a good view and the crowd was very nice-- parents and kids weren't jockeying for position and pushing each other out of the way like I expected. It's a good show, with floats and music and dancing, and characters giving out high-fives and handshakes along the way. The parade runs twice a day.

No matter what your kids are into-- bouncing, climbing, watching shows, spinning, or tubing, you'll find plenty of fun here. We're already looking forward to going back next year.

Five Lessons Every Kid Should Learn

2010-08-17T16:44:00.003-04:00

1. How to stand up to a bully. Even though Sarina's just 3, we've already had a couple of encounters with older girl bullies. One, just the other day, tried to take my daughter's bracelets. I asked Sarina if she wanted the girl to take her bracelets, or if she wanted them back. When she affirmed she wanted them back, I suggested that she tell the girl, "I'm sorry, but those are my bracelets and I would like them back now." She did, and when the girl fiddled with the last one, Sarina said, "That one is mine, too." I was very proud!

2. How to be a real friend. Sometimes, the bully isn't targeting you, but someone else-- someone weaker, who needs help. It's so difficult and so important to provide other kids with emotional support so they can be stronger, too, even if it means risking becoming the bully's next target.

3. Who to trust. This is a lifelong lesson that adults struggle with, too. As a kid, it can be even tougher to figure out people's motivations. It's hard watching our kids get hurt when they try to befriend the "wrong" person, but it's also a necessary part of the process, so they'll learn when to be open with people and when to keep their guard up.

4. How to love learning. Kids have natural curiosity that can be squashed when adults try to impose too many rules and restrictions. Fanciful questions deserve fanciful answers. So squirrels like to ride on unicorns' backs when no one is looking? Sure they do! Forcing adult logic into kid questions will make academic learning an automatic turn-off.

5. How much we can matter. When we raise kids who believe they can make a difference, we improve the world. All the good we see in humanity is because people believed their little lives might matter.

I wrote this blog post while participating in the TwitterMoms and Nanny McPhee Returns blogging program, making me eligible to get a $50 gift card. For more information on how you can participate, click here.

This is a CHILDREN'S book? What on Earth...?

2010-08-09T20:57:00.005-04:00

Why, yes, that IS a car full of gun-toting criminals trying to outrun police that you see below. And even better, one of the criminals is actually shooting his gun at the police!

On the next page, we see that the kindly police officer-- the one who we're teaching our children to trust and go to in case they're ever lost or in trouble-- is leaning out of the car with his gun and preparing to shoot back. Clifford and Emily Elizabeth are mere feet away and likely to get killed in the crossfire, but they look pretty excited about it.

And to top off this excellent book, I noticed that Clifford's brother Nero (the rescue dog at a fire station) is helping to put out a fire at a bodega on pages 9-12. "That's weird," I thought. "In the book Clifford's Family, I'm sure that Nero also helped put out a fire in a bodega. Does this author have a thing about bodegas being on fire?"

"I remember this from Clifford's Family," my astute 3-year-old interjected. Just to check, I pulled out the book... and found out that pages 9-12 in Clifford To The Rescue (Scholastic, 2000) are identical to pages 13-16 in Clifford's Family (Scholastic, 1984). Yes, 4 pages that have exactly the same illustrations and the same text except for a few words. WTH, Norman Bridwell? So I looked into matters a bit further and noticed on the fine print on the copyright page, Clifford to the Rescue cites nine different Clifford books that this one is copied from, and calls it a "compilation." No idea which book originally had the gun-waving police chase in it, but it appears to be from the 70s or 80s, a time when we also thought it was okay that Tom and Jerry bludgeoned each other with hammers.

I guess that makes it... better?

Win a $60 Gift Certificate to CSN Stores

2010-08-07T01:55:00.007-04:00

CONTEST CLOSED. WE HAVE A WINNER!

Random.org picked comment 20. Congrats to peg42, who wrote:

"The best thing that happened to me this week is that my Dad, brother & Sister in Law came over for dinner last night to help celebrate my upcoming birthday with my family & I. We had such a nice time, sitting outside & relaxing.Thanks so much."

--
The thing that's so impressive about CSN is the amazing range of products they carry. You can buy anything from a new bed to new shoes to a new wine rack... they have more than 200 online stores filled with a products in these categories: home decor, furniture, housewares, baby and kid items, outdoor, home improvement, bags and luggage, shoes, health and fitness, pets, office, and school.

The other thing that's so impressive about CSN is that they noticed this here little ol' blog. I RULE. This bodes so well for my plan to take over the Internet!

*Ahem.*

So they wrote to me and offered to give me a $60 gift certificate to award to one of my readers, which I thought was an excellent idea on their part. Go, CSN. If you win, you get to spend that $60 on whatever you want in any of their 200+ shops. There may be shipping charges or international fees, but whatever. It's still 60 free bucks.

To win this glorious aforementioned 60 bucks, here's the stuff to do:

MANDATORY
1. Comment below. In your comment, tell me the best thing that's happened to you this week. (For no good reason. I just like hearing people's good news.)

OPTIONAL
2. Follow me on Google Friend Connect. (The "follow" button is on the upper right side of this blog.)
3. Follow me on Twitter.
4. Name one book I've written.
5. Tweet anything about this blog. I totally know-- I hate tweeting about contests I'm entering because I don't want the extra competition, so you don't have to tweet about the contest. You could tweet about my general awesomeness if you like, as long as there's a link to this blog somewhere in your tweet.

If you do any of the optional things, LEAVE A SEPARATE COMMENT for each thing you do. Also, make sure I have a way to contact you-- either leave your e-mail address in your comment or make sure it's visible on your profile.

Giveaway ends at 11:59 p.m. on August 23, and I'll announce the winner on the 24th. Good luck!

P.S. Disclaimer: I'm not being compensated for this post. It's just cool to give away stuff.

The voices of the Wonder Pets

2010-07-24T02:19:00.003-04:00

Ever wonder who does the voices of the Wonder Pets? Well, I did. Every time I watch it with Sarina, I mean to Google to find out the ages of the people who do the voices. And now I know:

This is sewious.

Starred review in Publishers Weekly!

2010-07-20T14:54:00.004-04:00

This just in:

My Stolen Son
Susan Markowitz with Jenna Glatzer, Berkley, $7.99 (304p) ISBN 978-0-425-23634-5

This poignant memoir tells the painful story of a brutal slaying that captured national attention when it became the basis of the 2007 drama Alpha Dog. In the summer of 2000, Susan Markowitz's 15-year-old son, Nicholas, was kidnapped and murdered by a local drug dealer in revenge for his brother's debts. Nicholas's death, the ensuing trials of his killers, and the international manhunt for a fourth suspect nearly tore his family apart and sent his mother on a decade-long quest for justice and sanity. Markowitz writes with candor about her grief-induced alcoholism and suicide attempts as well as the troubles that shook her family's foundation long before Nicholas's death. Her unflinching honesty makes this a deeply powerful story that will move fans of the film and anyone grieving a loved one's death by homicide or suicide. (Sept.)

Thank you, Publishers Weekly! Thank you, reviewer! This is our first published review of My Stolen Son, and it's thrilling to see that it's a starred review.

Toy Story 3

2010-06-19T01:03:00.003-04:00

Fan-flippin'-tastic.

Who else saw it today? I'm dying to have someone to chat with about its fabulousness without spoiling it for everyone who hasn't seen it. I was even accosting people in the parking lot afterwards to ask if they'd just come out of Toy Story 3, too (they hadn't... they saw Marmaduke... WTH?) so I could have someone to gush with.

Suffice it to say that I laughed and cried (QUIT JUDGING ME) and all five of us who went together (ages 3 to 63) loved it.

Safe Sunscreens, According to the Environmental Working Group

2010-06-09T22:49:00.005-04:00

I can't believe how much effort I'm putting into finding the perfect sunscreen this year. I want it to be chemical-free, easy to put on (I have a very squirmy little girl who hates standing still for sunscreen application, especially when there's a beach in sight!), and fragrance-free or with just a light scent (because I get migraines).

I consulted the Environmental Working Group's 2010 Cosmetics Safety Database for their sunscreen testing results (they tested more than 400 beach and sport sunscreens and recommend only 39 of them). It was hard tracking down each of the sunscreens online to find reviews and purchasing info, though. Then, once I found each of them, I found mixed reviews on all of them. There were very few with overwhelmingly positive reviews, and every one of them had some down-sides (generally that the non-chemical sunscreens are harder to apply, tacky, and leave your skin white).

Now that I've done my homework, I'll pass the links and summaries onto you in an easy-to-click list so you can save some time.

Here are some of the top beach and sport sunscreens rated by EWG:

All Terrain: Bad reviews-- see for yourself. People say it just doesn't work.

Badger: 4 stars on Amazon. Main complaints are that it's greasy and hard to apply. The link takes you to the unscented version, but there are also scented versions if you do an Amazon search for "Badger suncreen."

California Baby: 4 1/2 stars on Amazon. This is the green tea "aromatherapy" one; you can search Amazon for other types.

Caribbean Solutions: 4 1/2 stars on Amazon. Most of the people who mentioned the scent said it was a nice scent, but one said, "It soaks in fast, but has a bit of an artificial flowery smell to it."

Desert Essence Age Reversal: No reviews yet on Amazon, but I found 8 reviews on Viewpoints, where it rates 4.12 out of 5. One reviewer complains that it burned her eyes.

Episencial: 4 1/2 stars on Amazon, but only 3 reviews, so I checked Drugstore.com and got confused-- the reviews contradict each other, with some saying it's smooth and easy to rub in, and others saying the opposite; and with some saying it's water-resistant and others saying it's not.

Estion: I had a hard time tracking this one down. It seems to be out of stock most places. The link takes you to the SkinCareRx shop, where it's backordered, but has positive reviews.

Jason Sunbrellas: The two reviews on Amazon are positive, except that one reviewer says it stings if it gets in your eyes. The 10 reviews on Drugstore.com are more mixed, repeating the eye-stinging problem, but also saying it's gritty.

La Roche-Posay Anthelios: 3 1/2 stars. Reviewers say it's thick, white, and oily.

Loving Naturals: Very mixed reviews, with many saying it's greasy or oily, and some saying it doesn't work.

Soleo Organics: 3 1/2 stars on Amazon, with the most common complaint being that it's greasy.

ThinkBaby and ThinkSport: They're sold out all over at the moment. Our friends at Zrecs.com give this product a hearty thumbs-up, but as you can see in the comments, not everyone agrees.

TruKid Sunny Days: This is the only one on the list with a 5-star rating on Amazon (8 reviews). Reviewers say that, comparatively speaking,it goes on easily and has a light citrus scent.

UV Natural: Mixed reviews, with the most common complaints about poor performance and stickiness.

Vanicream Sunscreen Sport 4 1/2 stars, with the only real complaint about the fact that it goes on thickly.

For the curious, I ordered TruKid.

Edited to add: And I love it. Goes on easily, the whiteness fades quickly, and it works well. The only downside is cost-- the tube is very small and lasted us less than two weeks for just one little girl. I ordered two more tubes.

Why I'm a Ghostwriter

2010-06-09T20:49:00.006-04:00

It's funny-- if you had ever told me that I was going to become a nonfiction ghostwriter and actually LIKE it, well, I would have cocked my eyebrow at you something fierce. I probably would have even said, "Pshaw!" at you. In my school days, I thought the only kind of "fun" writing was fiction writing. And when I began nonfiction writing, it was only because I saw that it had better financial prospects; it's tough to make a living as a writer, period, but really tough to make a living as a fiction writer.

But I did wind up liking nonfiction writing. Getting paid to learn stuff that interested me? What a deal! As I gained more experience, I began getting offers to ghostwrite books. Little did I know at the time that I'd find my calling there.

My line of work has put me in touch with some amazing people, both of the celebrity variety and of the regular ol' phenomenal-person-next-door variety. It seems like no accident that I've written the books I have; each person whose book I've ghostwritten or collaborated on has taught me something at just the right moment.

Jamie Blyth inspired me to expand my boundaries after I overcame panic disorder. At the time, I was pretty content just being able to go out to restaurants and stores again, but he had done some really wild things to conquer his own anxiety disorder-- like flying to Sweden to join a basketball team, even though he didn't know anyone there. Thinking about his story every day made me want to try bigger and bigger things in my own life, such as...

Working with Celine Dion. I smile every time I think of her. The editor who offered me this book assignment was really taking a leap of faith-- I didn't have any big book credits on my resume when I submitted it to her, but she liked my writing style and thought I had heart. She thought Celine and I might like each other, and she was so right. Hanging out with Celine night after night until 3 in the morning, I learned some of my most important adult life lessons. I learned, most of all, that I was happy I never achieved the fame I once sought when I wanted to be a Broadway star. She taught me that I really was meant for just the kind of work I was doing. And I will forever admire her for the way she cares so deeply about people.

Tracy Elliott taught me more about the kind of mother I wanted to be someday, and about the idea that you don't have to be a victim of your circumstances. She was orphaned as a little girl when both of her parents died, and was abused by her uncles, and riddled with addictions as a teen and young adult... but you'd never guess that to meet her now. You can write your own happy endings, I thought.

Along those same lines, you don't have to look very deeply to figure out what I learned from Scott Rigsby. The dude has no legs, and yet he did the Hawaiian Ironman triathlon. The HAWAIIAN flippin' IRONMAN. Do you know how insane that is even with two perfectly good legs?

And then Susan Markowitz, who showed up in my life just as my custody battle began. Her 15-year-old son, Nick, was murdered because of bad blood between his half-brother and a drug dealer named Jesse James Hollywood. Nick was just a pawn. Anytime I start feeling sorry for myself, Susan snaps me right out of that. Nick was her only child.

I feel lucky that my job puts me in contact with people like these, and that I get to know them so well. It enables me to ask the personal questions that you just wouldn't ask someone at a party, but you'd always be curious about. I know how Susan felt when detectives knocked on her door at dawn to say they'd found her son's body. I know how Scott cursed God for taking away his legs. I know things I'll write about, and some things I'll never write about, because they were shared just between us.

In some professions, you're taught not to get too "personally involved" with your clients. I'm lucky that ghostwriting is not one of those professions. As a ghostwriter, part of the joy for me is in crossing that line. It's the middle-of-the-night phone calls and the e-mails about nothing in particular. The Christmas presents, the family visits. If you don't want to be your subject's friend, I'm not sure how you can make readers love him or her either. (Of course, there is the case for the antihero... but still.)

I love the fact that I never know who I'm going to meet next, or whose life story will grip me for the next year. I love the appreciation I get when the subject feels I've gotten it just right. This is what I was meant to do, and I hope to keep doing it for a long time to come.

Badger Basket Doll Crib

2010-06-02T00:30:00.010-04:00

At a birthday party she recently attended at a play center, Sarina announced to the group of 2- and 3-year-olds, "Everyone be quiet. I just put my baby to bed."

And so she had... a baby doll in a plastic crib. She'd never shown an interest in "mothering" a doll before, but I was happy to encourage it, and the nice folks at Badger Basket sent me an amazing doll crib for her to try out for this review.

The thing that appealed to me most about this crib is that it's not the typical child's toy-- that is, it's not a brightly-colored plastic monstrosity. Instead, it actually looks sweet and delicate, like a real piece of furniture. It's made of wood and MDF (wood composite) board.

It took me about 20 minutes to assemble, which was not a difficult job, just a bit time-consuming. Getting the mobile strings to hang at the right height was the hardest part (the strings should probably be pre-cut shorter). The crib felt very sturdy when I was through, and I know this is the type of toy that can last through multiple children.

The details on this product are just charming-- the tie-on "bumpers" that look just like real bumpers, the lovely gingham baskets that are actually functional, and the working mobile. Even better, the mobile is wind-up, so it never needs batteries, and the song is a totally non-annoying version of Brahms' Lullaby. The loving attention to detail is apparent even down to the fact that the screws are painted white to blend in with the wood.

It's a strikingly beautiful piece that I'm proud to have in Sarina's room, and it draws compliments whenever someone sees it. The single improvement I'd like to see made is in the mobile attachment. The "vice" that's used to screw the mobile to the crib is detachable and can be placed wherever you want-- which is cool, except that (a) it sticks out about 2 inches beyond the crib, so you can't place the crib flush against a wall on that side, and (b) if you reposition the mobile, it can create little scratches in the paint where it connects to the crib. I'm tempted to just remove the mobile, but it's such a sweet feature.

Sarina was thrilled to find the crib in her room when I presented it to her, and has happily tended to her two baby dolls in it for the past week, positioning them on the pillow and pulling up the little sheet and playing their lullaby.

There's another variation of this doll crib that comes with a canopy, too, and another that comes with bottom cabinets instead of the baskets, and the grandest of all: the round doll crib with a canopy. How beautiful is this?

Part 2: More about the little girl in Marshalls

2010-05-17T01:11:00.003-04:00

After sharing the story of what happened when I witnessed child abuse in Marshalls (see my previous post), both here and on other forums, I received some good suggestions. The main suggestions were for me to call CPS and the police anyway, even though it was the following day and I had very little to go on. I decided it was worth the effort.

First, I tried CPS. I told the story, but the worker informed me that they couldn't do anything without some kind of identification. I said that the store should have surveillance video, and she said, "That's the store's private property. We don't have any right to that video unless we get, like, a warrant. You'd have to go to the police. Maybe they could get it."

I asked her what I could do in the future if something like this happened, and she said, "Get the license plate number." (Just like my mom said.)

Next, I called the police's non-emergency number. The officer I spoke with was nice and listened well, and was realistic with me about the chances of this actually getting solved: slim. He told me it would probably go out as an infomation bulletin. But he encouraged me to let an officer come to my house to take a report anyway, because you never know.

So Sarina and I put off our plans that day for a little while and waited. The officer did come over and listened to what happened. He shook his head in sympathy when I described how this girl was left alone and looked appropriately dismayed when I got to the part about the hair-pulling and slapping. But when I asked what would happen next, he said he wasn't sure because it wasn't his precinct. He didn't know if the officers in the next precinct would follow up with the store and try to get the video.

The reactions I've gotten about this story have left me with the strong idea that not many other people would know what to do in a similar situation, though, so I'm going to do my best to compile all the info I've now learned right here.

1. "Don't confront." The police officers I spoke with both advised me not to confront an abusive person. I can't say that I fully agree with that advice, but I understand where it comes from. You don't want to put yourself in harm's way-- but of course, sometimes that means you're leaving a child in harm's way instead. I can't tell you which is worse. What I can say is that the following suggestion seems like a good compromise to me:

2. Engage in sympathetic conversation. This advice comes from the National Committee to Prevent Child Abuse:
Start a conversation with the adult to direct attention away from the child.
For Example:

"She seems to be trying your patience."
"My child sometimes gets upset like that, too."
"Children can really wear you out sometimes. Is there anything I can do to help?"

(See more of their advice here.)

3. Call the police. Not CPS, not anyone else-- if you witness child abuse and it's happening right now, call the police right away. You can call other agencies later, but the police should be the first responders. You can make a report anonymously.

4. Get any kind of ID you can. If you can talk to the parent or child, get whatever you can out of them: their names, the name of their school, where they live, etc. The best thing you can get is a license plate number, so discreetly try to follow them to the parking lot and take a picture with your cell phone and/or write down the license plate number and description of the car.

5. Report the abuse to a manager. If you're in a store, restaurant, or other business, tell a manager what's happening and let him know you've called police. Ask the manager if he can detain or stall the abuser (by pretending there's a problem with a cash register or something, if he doesn't want to tip off what's really happening), lock the doors, record the abuser's credit card or other information, or otherwise assist.

6. Ask others for backup. If you're going to confront the parent, or shield the child, or do anything dangerous, look around you for other people who are also watching the situation. As them if they'll back you up if you try to help the child.

7. After you've called the police, call your state's child abuse hotline or Childhelp USA National Child Abuse Hotline at 1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453). Unfortunately, you can't simply trust that the police will "handle it." Some police officers are good; some are bad; some care and some don't. Some have no idea how to handle abuse situations. Make noise with as many agencies as you can once you've made the first police report.

And if you want to see some real-life scenarios played out, check out this amazing show:

http://www.hulu.com/what-would-you-do

That's a link to watch episodes of ABC's "What Would You Do?", a show I'd never seen until this week. It shows actors depicting difficult scenes of abuse, neglect, racism, and other hot-button issues in places like restaurants and streets, then shows how the unsuspecting public reacts. In some cases, bystanders step in to help. In others, they ignore or even make the situation worse. But I can tell you that it brought me to tears every single time a bystander worked up the amazing courage to step in and help a stranger, despite that it meant putting themselves at risk.

If you have other suggestions, please share them in the comments. I'll update this if I get any other solid information. Thank you for reading!

Little girl, I am sorry

2010-05-14T23:25:00.005-04:00

When Sarina and I arrived at Marshalls department store tonight and stood on line to return something, there was a bit of a commotion going on at the front registers. A little Spanish girl, 2 1/2, maybe 3 years old, was standing among the customers on line and she was shaking a little bottle of soda. She had a big grin on her face. The cashiers were trying to get her to stop, warning her that if she opened that cap, it was going to explode everywhere. They asked her where her mommy was.

I'm not sure if the girl spoke English, or if she spoke at all yet. But she didn't move, and just kept on grinning and giggling as she shook up that soda. There was some buzz-- where was this girl's mother? A worker from the layaway desk called out, "She's in the Misses department. Since she walked in, she's just let her daughter walk around the store alone."

After another minute or two, one of the workers tracked down the girl's mother. "You have to watch her," the woman said. "She's just running around the whole store. You can't let her do that."

When it came my turn at the returns desk, I appropriately harrumphed and told the cashier how much it bothered me to see neglectful parenting like that. "You'd be amazed," the cashier told me. "We see it here all the time."

Armed with $7.10 in store credit, Sarina and I headed straight for the book aisle, of course. We took our time trying to select just the right thing-- a Disney compilation? A lift-the-flap book? I was halfway through reading her Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late (very cute, by the way) when the little girl appeared next to us. She wanted to hear the story, too. There were just two problems: (a) she was unsupervised again, and (b) she had a big foam rocket in her mouth. I have no idea where this rocket came from, but I assume she didn't bring it in herself.

"Uh-oh," I told her in my cartoony mom-voice. "That doesn't belong in your mouth."

Sarina backed me up. "You're not allowed to chew on that."

But the girl just giggled and smiled at us. I made some silly faces at her, and she laughed hard enough that the rocket fell out of her mouth. She picked it up off the floor and started to put it right back in her mouth, but when I made a move to take it, she instead tossed it into my cart and laughed some more.

"Where is your mommy?" I asked her.

She didn't answer me. She wanted to play. I looked around and didn't see anyone nearby who looked like a potential mother for this girl.

I should have surrendered to her adorableness, but at that moment, I just felt annoyance. Why was I babysitting? I summoned a nearby worker and explained the situation-- that this was the same girl whose mother had already been warned 20 minutes earlier. The worker assured me she'd take care of it, and as we took off for the children's clothing department, I heard the little girl worriedly cry out, "Mommy?"

I told Sarina that it was too bad that the little girl had a mommy who didn't take good care of her.

"But she has nice hair," Sarina said. I got a kick out of that. The girl's hair was dark brown and curly, pulled into a ponytail with tendrils falling out. Her clothes didn't match.

Sarina and I spent about 10 minutes debating which dress looked most like Sleeping Beauty's, and which color tutu was the prettiest, before making our final selections and heading to the register. Just as we got on line, I saw the worker and the little girl making their way up the middle aisle to meet up with the girl's mother, who had been checking out.

Yes, the girl's mother did all of her shopping, stood on a long line, and paid for her items without ever checking on her little girl's whereabouts.

"Mommy!" the girl called. The mother signaled for the girl to follow her out. I couldn't make out what she said, but whatever it was, the girl turned and started to walk in the other direction. And that's when it happened.

The mother grabbed the girl's ponytail, and yanked hard. The girl cried out. The mother dragged her several feet by her ponytail, then slapped her, then picked her up and headed for the door. I stood there dumbfounded.

Call the police, I thought... but a moment later, realized the futility of that idea-- the woman was leaving. She would be in the parking lot in 10 seconds. No way would she still be around by the time police arrived.

What do I do? What in the world do I do?

I looked at the people in line around me. They were all staring. The woman in front of me in line seemed frozen as I was, and the couple behind me were making nasty little comments, but clearly not about to do anything. I wanted to do something. My thoughts raced. Sarina was in the shopping cart with me. I couldn't run off and challenge this woman; I couldn't risk the confrontation. I'm not even sure if I would have risked it if she weren't there, though I'd like to think I would have.

So I did nothing.

"The only thing necessary for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing."

I did nothing.

I stood there for those five or ten seconds or so that it took for the woman to get out the door, mind sifting through a hundred bad ideas and coming up with nothing, knowing that I was failing right then. Knowing that I might be blowing the chance to save this girl's life.

I worked on the book Bullyproof Your Child for Life with Dr. Joel Haber, and one of his key concepts is "good bystanders." Bullies thrive when bystanders stand around failing to act. It makes the victim think that everyone agrees with the bully's actions, and it gives the bully more power-- the bully now knows no one will intervene.

But, dammit, I'm not the type who stands around not intervening. Especially for a little girl, no older than my own, who just almost had the hair yanked off her head by the woman who's supposed to protect her in this world.

Yet I came up with no solution as I watched the mother carry her daughter out the door, crying all the way. That made two of us. The tears welled up in my eyes as I got up to the register and explained to the cashier what we had just seen, hugging my daughter tightly.

I don't know why I felt the need to reassure Sarina, but I did, over and over. "I would never do that to you," I told her.

"I know," she said. "I would never do that to you, either, because I love you."

We were supposed to go straight home from there, but I couldn't. We went to the grocery store next door instead, where I needed to decompress and talk things through with Sarina.

"I feel terrible for that little girl."

"Me too. She has a wicked mother, like Maleficent."

"You're right. What should we have done?" I asked her.

"That mother should be in time out forever."

More hugs. More talking about how I definitely should have done something. Something, but what? We talked about how important it is to stand up for people who need our help. She suggested that next time, we call on the Rescue Rangers, Chip and Dale, who will parachute in and carry the girl to safety. She said that she feels bad that she didn't catch the mother and put her in a big bag so the girl could get away.

I told her that I'm proud that she cares about other people, and that what happened to this girl should never happen to anyone.

"I'm lucky I have you for my mommy," she said. I wanted to soak in this compliment, but right then, I felt like I had let her down even if she didn't realize it. I want to deserve my daughter's pride in me.

We got blueberry pie and assorted comfort foods and headed to my parents' house, where I needed to check in to ask for... reassurance? I think I was looking to be let off the hook, for someone to tell me there's nothing I could have done, even though I knew that was a big cop-out. I thought about how the girl wasn't broken yet... she still laughs, she still smiles. There was hope. I thought about how sad she looked when we walked away. I held Sarina and retrieved our grocery bag... somehow I had forgotten that blueberry pie at the store.

"Don't forget to tell Grandma and Grandpa about that little girl," she told me. As if I could forget. We got inside and I explained.

"Did you get the woman's license plate number?" my mother asked.

I wanted to scream. The thought hadn't even occured to me. Of course that's what I should have done... followed her out to the parking lot and copied down the license plate number.

The main reason I'm sharing this story here is because I'm hoping you'll stop for a moment and think about how you would handle a similar situation. It does nobody any good if we all just freeze in horror. The more I look back now, the more I can see the steps I should have taken.

I should not have left that little girl, and I should have asked her name.
When I saw trouble, I should have taken a picture with my camera phone.
I could have tried asking a manager to lock the door before the woman left so I could call police (that might or might not have worked).
I should have asked the people around me to act with me.
And I should have written down that license plate number.

I should have shown that little girl that she was not alone, and that the world isn't so cruel as to ignore the abuse of a child when it's right in our faces.

I have been in this situation once before, when I was just a young teen. I handled it the right way then. I was on a public bus when I saw a parent hit and scream at a child, and I got off at the next stop and called police, telling them the bus number and route. I called anonymously because the woman threatened me on the bus when I glared at her, so I never got to know if my tip actually "worked," but at least then I knew I had done what I could.

This time I don't get that reassurance. I am sorry I failed you, little girl. I hope someone else won't, and soon.

Photo shared on Flickr courtesy of Southworth Sailor.

Giveaway: Autographed Copy of Unthinkable by Scott Rigsby

2010-05-04T23:46:00.005-04:00

Update: Congratulations to winner Jon_Lefkove!

“I want to show people that they can take the life God gave them and use it to do something extraordinary.”
— Scott Rigsby

9 seconds.

That’s how long it took for Scott Rigsby’s life to come crashing down around him.

16 hours, 42 minutes, 46 seconds.

That’s how long it took for Scott Rigsby to make history.

One day when Scott Rigsby was eighteen years old, he was riding in the back of a pickup truck that was towing a three-ton trailer. When the trailer was clipped from behind by an eighteen-wheeler, Scott was thrown over the side and dragged 324 feet before being pinned under the trailer. Later, at the hospital, his right leg was amputated—the first of twenty-six surgeries he would endure over the next ten years, including the loss of his other leg. Doctors said it would be more than a year before he could expect to walk again—let alone run.

Eleven years later, Scott did the unthinkable . . .

On October 13, 2007, after arduous training, he became the first double-leg amputee using prosthetics ever to cross the finish line in the sporting world’s most grueling and prestigious event, the Ford Ironman World Championship triathlon in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii.

Unthinkable documents Scott’s remarkable journey from the devastating crash that claimed both of his legs, and from his subsequent battle with depression and alcohol, to the dawning realization that God had a greater plan for his life. The unthinkable courage, determination, and faith Scott demonstrated in training for and competing in the Hawaiian Ironman triathlon will inspire and amaze you.

-
I helped Scott write his book, and it was a terrific experience. He is a true inspiration.

Scott is offering to autograph a copy of his book for the winner of this giveaway.

HOW TO WIN:

MANDATORY ENTRY: Visit http://www.scottrigsby.com/ and leave a comment here telling me one thing you learned about Scott.

OPTIONAL: For extra entries, you can do any or all of these things:

Follow this blog using Google Friend Connect.
Follow me on Twitter.
Tweet about this giveaway. You can use this Tweet if you like:

#Giveaway: Win an autographed copy of Scott Rigsby's UNTHINKABLE from @JennaGlatzer - http://bit.ly/c0ln4x

Become Scott's friend on Facebook.
Blog about this giveaway and leave your link in the comments.

For each thing you do, just leave another comment below. Make sure your e-mail address is in your profile or your comment so I have a way to contact you if you win. We'll choose a winner using random.org's generator on May 31. Thanks for your interest in Scott's story, and good luck!

**CONTEST IS OVER**

Random Story Day

2010-05-04T01:46:00.002-04:00

The rule is, if you read this, you have to tell me a random story from your life, too.

Too late! You're already reading it! Those are the rules!

Okay, my random story for today...

On spring break from college, my roommate and I were being hit on fairly incessantly, as college ladies on spring break tend to be, and were tired of it. One man walked up to us and tried to start a conversation, and my roommate faked a peculiar accent and said, "No speak English."

He asked, "What language do you speak?"

"Swahili," she said. It seemed a pretty safe choice. Right until the moment when he said...

"Ndio! Ninazungumza Kiswahili."

The guy spoke Swahili.

We stammered something stupid and left. Poor guy. But we learned out lesson... from then on, we claimed to speak only Norwegian.

Your turn.

Kids Today, I Tell Ya

2010-04-21T15:55:00.002-04:00

Abby Sunderland is a 16-year-old from California trying to become the youngest person ever to sail around the world alone. Her brother did it last year when he was 17, but was dethroned about a month later when another 17-year-old two months his junior also completed a solo circumnavigation. Abby started her journey in January.

Oh yeah? Well, when I was 16, I... I... took second place in a contest to draw a poster for school concert. Yes, I did. Beat THAT, Abby!

So, I Got This Giant Thing Out of Me.

2010-04-06T18:44:00.005-04:00

I had this ridiculously big fibroid in my uterus until last Monday. That's when talented surgeon Jeannine Villella chopped it out of me. For those unfamiliar with these beasts, fibroids are (almost always) benign tumors that may be inside the uterus, attached to the uterine wall, or on a stalk outside the uterus. Mine was attached to the wall, and made my uterus the size of a 4 or 5-month pregnancy. It amazes me that the human body can work with a crazy invader like that taking up so much room.

I was surprisingly calm, considering this was my first major surgery. The fibroid was squashing my other organs-- organs I like-- so I knew it had to come out. I had an operation called an abdominal myomectomy, and was warned that there could be horrific pain afterwards... but there wasn't. There's been a lot of discomfort, swelling, bloating, and pathetic-looking walking, but it was not the agony I had heard it could be. Huzzah!

Now I'm under orders to take it very easy for the next 5 weeks-- no bending, lifting, cartwheeling, jumping on trampolines, scaling large walls, bungee jumping, skydiving, or riding llamas. The hardest part is definitely that I can't play with Sarina the way we normally do. She wants to tackle-hug me and have me chase her around the room, and my speed is more like that of a 90-year-old with a broken hip. But I'm getting there.

By the way, a true public service announcement for the ladies-- if you have a protruding belly that's not usually there, bladder "issues," very heavy periods, bleeding in between periods, digestive problems, fertility problems, miscarriages... get checked for fibroids. (I didn't have all of those symptoms, but I had most of them. I'll let you guess which ones, so I can retain my *cough* dignity.) Fibroids are very common and generally cause no symptoms (so they don't need to be removed), but some of us extra-special people get troublesome ones that grow really large or multiply like Gremlins, and those need to be evicted. There are several types of surgeries and procedures to remove them, depending on factors like the size and type and whether or not you care about your fertility.

I was mighty happy to wake up with a uterus, considering I was on the maternity ward! How awful would that have been if they had converted to a hysterectomy and I was surrounded by new moms?

A doctor had originally told me my fibroid was the size of a "baby's head" (why not just a nice grapefruit or something?), so my parents thought it was funny to get me a "Congratulations on the birth of your alien baby head" card instead of a get well card afterwards. I meant to ask my surgeon to take a photo of it for me, but I forgot. Afterwards, I asked her, "You didn't happen to take a picture of it, did you?"

"No," she told me. "It was ugly."

And of course, because I'm a writer and I can't seem to ever turn that switch off, I'm thinking about whether or not to write a book about fibroids now.

Who's In Charge of Me?

2010-03-16T13:51:00.002-04:00

About a month ago, I was in the Disney store and a cashier talked me into buying one of those foam thingees you can stick on your car antenna. I thought this was a wise idea, considering I am one of those people who often forgets where she parked. I bought a pink Minnie Mouse princess head thingee with glittering silver tiara, because I was sure Sarina would love it. I am positive it made it home with me, because I remember taking it out of the bag in my living room. However, it was never to be seen again. I think it accidentally got thrown away somehow.

I've been thinking about it ever since, and arguing with myself about whether or not it's actually worth it to go back to the Disney store just to buy another antenna thingee. Finally, yesterday, I did. Walked in, told the cashier the story, and bought one more Minnie Mouse princess head thingee for $2.50.

Drove home and thought, "I'd better just stick this right on my antenna right now before I lose it again."

So I took out the thingee and walked around my car, and realized...

I HAVE NO ANTENNA.

*headdesk*

The Best Handmade Stuff I Own

2009-12-08T03:17:00.004-05:00

These are a few of my favorite handmade things...

MY PHOTO PENDANTS

Soon after Sarina was born, I bought a photo pendant of her to wear on my necklace every day. Unfortunately, it fell apart. The silver stem fell out of it, and the finish on the photo itself was sticky and got dirty. Lots of sellers handmake these types of photo pendants, but not all of them know what they're doing. I went through four sellers-- I think-- before finding the one who I will (heart) forever and ever.

I found Rebecca Shaw on etsy. About every three months, I get a new pendant from her... and they keep turning out better and better. She's a perfectionist (like me), so I always know they're going to be cut and finished just right. And even better, she does these for just $9, plus $1.75 shipping and handling. A real labor of love.

Everywhere I go, people stop and ask me where I got my necklace. I actually asked Rebecca to send me business cards with one of my orders, and I ran out of them.

Makes a great gift for moms, grandmas, aunts, and so on. Just visit her at www.love-to-clay.com and request a custom order.

HANDMADE SOAP

It's Linda Formichelli's fault that I got into handmade soap. She sent me some as a gift, and ever since then, I can't bring myself to go back to the commercial stuff. Good handmade soap is so much richer, more moisturizing, and nicer smelling than the stuff you'll find in big stores.

The very best I've found is also on etsy: http://www.etsy.com/shop/MartinsvilleEmporium

Martinsville Emporium makes amazing cold process soaps. Try their sampler pack. My favorite scents of theirs are Ginger Lime and Sugared Lime (see the trend?). They stay ever so lightly on your skin, and my skin never feels dry and tight the way it used to with commercial soaps.

CUSTOM SPOON

I was trying to find an original thing to give my sister last Christmas-- something that could be inscribed with a message, but not the usual suspects at the silver kiosk in the mall. I stumbled onto a brand new etsy shop called Lacewood:

http://www.etsy.com/shop/Lacewood

And I had a spoon made. And I was tickled pink. The artisan went back and forth with me to create the perfect gift-- and I'm fairly sure it remains her strangest request. When Sarina was just a year and a half old, she used to wake up many mornings and talk about whether she thought her "Aunt Peeka" was happy or sad that day. One day, she woke up and said, "Maybe Aunt Peeka is happy today because she has fruit snacks and a duck."

It was so extraordinary that I had to capture it forever on a wooden spoon. So Akire made a spoon with flying fruit snacks and a sun on one side, and a rubber ducky and more fruit on the back, with the words written on the handle and the back of the spoon. I'm not sure if you have to be signed in to Facebook to see this-- let me know. Here's the front of the spoon:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Lacewood/124749730258#/photo.php?pid=3973361&id=124749730258

and here's the back:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Lacewood/124749730258#/photo.php?pid=3973364&id=124749730258&fbid=152514820258

I hope its awesomeness is self-explanatory.

FELT FOOD

During the lead paint freak-out of 2007-8 (which, by the way, is still ongoing), I wanted a way for my daughter to be able to play with pretend foods, without having to worry about chemicals in plastic or wood sets. So it was etsy to the rescue again, this time: http://www.etsy.com/shop/Creativetouches1.

I bought a really well-made fruit set that's still holding up just fine. Great on the mornings that Sarina decides she's going to make breakfast.

--
Disclaimer: No, I ain't shillin'. These sellers don't even know I'm writing this. I just think that the world should know about craftspeople who make awesome things.

Unthinkable!

2009-09-22T01:46:00.003-04:00

Imagine you were 18 years old, riding on the back of a pick-up truck as you worked a summer landscaping job with your friends. You're about to go off to college, and this is your last summer all together as a group. Then the unthinkable happens.

Your pick-up truck collides with an 18-wheeler. You're launched out of the back and thrown onto the road, where your leg gets trapped and you get dragged 324 feet along the asphalt.That's what happened to Scott Rigsby, who lost both of his legs as a result of that accident.

For many years, Scott was lost and depressed, and couldn't figure out a purpose for his life. Then, while browsing at a bookstore, he saw two physically challenged athletes on the covers of magazines. Inspiration took hold, and in 2007, Scott became the first-ever double-amputee to complete the Hawaiian Ironman triathlon... yes, the one that's televised every year on NBC. It's a crazy physical challenge that even most able-bodied athletes can't complete. But Scott felt something telling him that God wanted him to do this. He made history, and broke down barriers for other physically challenged people, showing them that sometimes the "impossible" is possible.

Scott and I wrote a book together, Unthinkable, and it's in stock now on Amazon. The book has a lot of heart, and I think it's of interest whether you're into triathlons or not. At its core, it's a story about faith and overcoming the odds. I sure hope you'll read it and let us know what you think. We're eagerly waiting for our first review.

The proof that my child is better than I am

2009-08-31T22:24:00.003-04:00

"Mommy, can we find some more of my toys to give away to babies who don't have any?"

She wins.

Conversations with my 2-year-old

2009-08-10T14:06:00.009-04:00

Saturday

"I got a cut on my finger ankle." (Also known as the knuckle.)

Yesterday

"Mommy, what are some of the situations when we might feel exasperated face?"
"Well, if we wanted to color, but all our markers were dried out, we might feel exasperated."

"And if we came home and found out that Kira ate our whole house, we might feel exasperated."

"Well... yes. Yes, we definitely would."

Today

"Mommy, if you did poopies in your diaper, I would change you."

Holy Pineapples, I Own a Dyson

2009-07-17T01:24:00.007-04:00

It started about 10 years ago, when I became a homeowner for the first time. I inherited my grandparents' old Electrolux canister vacuum-- which worked just fine, but was a serious pain to lug around and vaguely smelly, and by the end, was being held together with duct tape. May it rest in peace.

What I had heard was that there was this magical vacuum called a Dyson that made people-- otherwise sane people-- actually like vacuuming. It was the strangest thing I'd ever read. First I figured they were members of Mr. Dyson's immediate family, but it was just too widespread. His family would have to be speed-typing insomniacs to write all those reviews.

How in the world could anyone actually write out loud that they LIKE vacuuming?, thought I. And it went even further than that; people actually wrote words like "I love my vacuum!" and "Vacuuming is fun now!" It was just crazy enough that I decided then and there that someday I had to own a Dyson.

A neighbor got one. I coveted it from afar.

It became a status thing in my mind. One day, when I was very, very rich, I was going to buy a Hawaiian island... and a Dyson.

Problem was, then I became a single mom to a toddler and Dysonland seemed even farther away. I bought a very cheap, but well-reviewed Hoover for my new place, and I tried so darn hard to like the beast. There HAD to be a reason why other people liked it, but I couldn't figure it out. The thing clogged every single time I used it, and I wound up spending more time taking it apart, poking wiry things through the hose, re-vacuuming after knocking the dust out, etc. than any human should ever spend on any cleaning activity.

One of the main problems was that I have fairly new carpets that are still shedding, and the cheap vacuum could not handle that at all. Each time I used it, I imagined it crying out to me, "For God's sake, woman! I cost $60! What did you expect of me?"

That's where Dyson stepped in... and sent me a vaccuum to review.

*cue: clouds parting. Insert sounds of Hallelujah chorus here*

What they sent me was this:

It is the Dyson DC25 Animal, their latest Ball vacuum.

I believe that this vacuum and I were meant to be together, and it has taken destiny this long to make it happen because destiny is a putz. Where were you last year, destiny?

The first time I used it, I had to empty the canister literally every room (and I had vacuumed using El Cheapo Piece of Junko about three days earlier). There were entire cats in that canister. It is so oddly satisfying SEEING the junk in your carpet in a clear canister rather than having it all hidden away in a bag, where one can only wonder what disgustingness might have lurked.

So, yeah, it took care of the cat hair and the shedding carpet. And it's lightweight and very manueverable: the ball means that you can turn it any which way you want while you're pushing this thing around. It's a very neat feature.

Then comes the coolest part for me: it's certified asthma-friendly by the Asthma and Allergy Foundation of America. I'm lucky enough to be blessed with both asthma and allergies, and vacuuming has been a particular nightmare this allergy season. It has always seemed that my vacuums kicked up more stuff than they took care of. Not so with the Dyson, which has a lifetime HEPA filer that traps allergens.

The wand attachment is built right into the handle-- you just open a cap on top and the wand extends out from there. Very simple.

There are no bags to worry about, and it's easy to empty and put back together. The handle is ergonomic, and there's no need to change settings when switching from bare floors to carpet. The machine just knows.

Also, it's freakin' purple.

There are three details I'd love to see improved: 1. a larger canister, 2. a little more room to maneuver the wand-- it's kind of awkward as is, and 3. a retractable cord. All corded things in life should have retractable cords. Cords are very cordy.

Even soulmates, however, are not expected to be perfect. My love for my Dyson is unconditional and everlasting. I (heart) U, DC25 Animal.

But as far as the whole "Vacuuming is fun now" thing goes? Well, let's not get crazy. Let us draw the line at "significantly more tolerable than ever before."

I'll tell you what's a little surreal...

2009-07-15T05:01:00.003-04:00

...to see something about Nick Markowitz on TMZ. I tend to forget that this is a "media-interest" case because it's become very personal to me. But it was a movie, and stuff that gets made into movies... winds up on TMZ, I suppose.

It's just an odd clashing of cultures. I watch TMZ and other such entertainment shows from time to time when I need to completely turn off my brain and feel jealous of some celebrity in a bikini, or feel smug because I have my life put together better than Amy Winehouse and have not yet had my nose fractured by walking into scenery at the Tony awards. I check in on Brangelina's brood and find out what antics Richard Simmons is up to.

I don't go there to find out about a 15-year-old murder victim. And when I saw an online caption, I secretly worried-- were they going to say something tasteless as usual? Nope-- just the quick facts about Jesse James Hollywood's guilty verdict. What a relief. Same with the other entertainment sites; they mostly just reported it straight, aside from a little discussion about how none of this would have happened if Jesse James Hollywood had a name like George Smith.

The Honoring Nick Markowitz Facebook group is closing in on 1000 members in just about 2 weeks. I'm so glad it's bringing his family some happiness to see that people are remembering Nick.

Justice!

2009-07-09T01:30:00.007-04:00

The last picture taken of Nick Markowitz

Today, a jury convicted Jesse James Hollywood of first degree murder and kidnapping.

This conviction comes nine years after the crime: the murder of 15-year-old Nick Markowitz.

He will be sentenced next week, and the only options are life in prison, or the death penalty.

Given those options, I can say just one thing:

YIPPEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

All the way on the opposite end of the country from the courtroom in California, I couldn't be there. Instead, I stayed on the computer, with 85 tabs open so I could refresh, refresh, refresh every potential source that might break the news first. A woman on the Honoring Nick Markowitz group announced it first... I cried when I saw the word "Guilty."

Nick's parents, Susan and Jeff, have had to wait nine long years to talk about this publicly; all that time, either a judge or the DA's office had asked them to remain silent. There were four other trials before this one, all resulting in convictions. The shooter, Ryan Hoyt, is on death row. The gag order will be lifted as soon as the sentence is pronounced. It will mark the final trial, the final step in the quest for justice for Nick.

Now they get to move on to the rest of their lives. Now that the "justice" part is done, they get to honor Nick's memory without the constant weight of courtroom trials hanging over them. I'm not sure that Susan even knows what "normal" feels like anymore-- I hope it's a time of positive rediscovery for her.

Sharlene Martin is representing the book deal for Susan's story. I'm hopeful that we'll have the manuscript finished in a few months. You'd think that this would be such a depressing subject to write about, but Susan is such an upbeat and funny person that it makes it much easier. Even though I make her talk about difficult things a lot, we still spend most of our conversations laughing.

I'm just thrilled to have a bit of my faith restored in the justice system. The jury got it.

So in case any of them read this post at some point, I want to thank the person who informed police about Jesse's whereabouts in Brazil, the DA's office, the detectives who were there in the courtroom nine years later, the victim's advocate who has been so good to Susan, Susan and Jeff's family and friends who've been there with them in court and in spirit, and everyone who works to keep Nick's memory alive.

I hope today brings you all a sense of peace.

Honoring Nick Markowitz

2009-07-05T01:49:00.003-04:00

Several months ago, Susan Markowitz contacted me to ask if I'd help her write her memoir. Her only son, Nick, was kidnapped and murdered when he was 15 years old. This was the basis of the movie Alpha Dog, which starred Justin Timberlake, Sharon Stone, and Bruce Willis. After seeing the movie and reading about her story, I knew this could be the most important book I'd ever write.

Susan spent several years in and out of mental hospitals and attempting suicide. As she explained it, each time she told her story in a group, suddenly everyone else realized they didn't have any real problems. Susan's first letter came to me one day after I was in court fighting for custody of my daughter, and I was very down. It was as if God was flicking me in the head and saying, "Here's some perspective for you."

I hate that Susan has to be that perspective. But nine years after losing her son, she is remarkably strong and put together, and ready to do great things.

This week marked the end of the murder trial of Jesse James Hollywood. Jesse was a drug dealer who had a falling out with Nick's half-brother, Ben. He and his cronies snatched Nick for revenge, and held onto him for three days before executing him and buring him in a shallow grave on a hiking trail in California.

After Nick's body was found, Jesse ran off to Brazil. The other kidnappers and murderers were caught and convicted, but Jesse stayed on the run for 5 years before someone turned him in for the reward money. While in Brazil, he fathered a child, believing he could not be extradited if he had a Brazilian-born child.

The trial lasted a month and a half, and it's in the jury's hands right now.

I created a Facebook group to honor Nick and to provide a place for people to show support for his family. I'd love it if you'd join: http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=99705960901

We just accepted a book deal from Berkley and will have details soon about when the book should be released. I hope to do it justice, because I think this is a story that might just change a lot of lives.

I gardened.

2009-05-07T03:24:00.005-04:00

Why does no one use the past tense of the verb "garden?" Seriously. No one says, "I gardened today." Everyone says, "I did some gardening today." Well, because I am a linguistic rebel, I shall tell you that I gardened.

And what I did when I gardened should truly astound and impress you, enough that I expect at least a few "ooohs" and "ahhhs" at the end of this post.

I removed a shrub using nothing but a pair of old kitchen scissors and my bare hands.

This is the shrub.

These are the scissors.

These are my bare hands.

While I was performing this undeniably astounding feat (don't deny it, you denier), some form of beetle crashed into my ear, so hard that it drew blood, which I did not notice until I tried to pull my hair into a ponytail later and wondered how I got blood all over my ear. Furthermore proving, of course, just how much of an action-adventure heroine I am becoming.

I am considering retitling this blog "Adventures of One Bad-Ass Momma." But I so rarely curse, and "Bad-Butt" lacks the proper punch.

She learned her "l" and that makes me sad

2009-04-27T20:22:00.003-04:00

You remember how, just a few posts ago, I said my favorite part of the song "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head" was when Sarina sang "I'm never gonna stop the rain by compwaining?" Well, without even warning me, she decided to start pronouncing her "l"s correctly now, so it's "complaining." It took all I had not to tell her she was saying it wrong and should go back to saying "compwaining." Darn you, progress! Darn you to heck!

Her new favorite is when I sing "Anything You Want (You Got It)" to her. The other day, my dad said "You can have anything you want" when asking her what she wanted for a snack, and she said, "Roy Orbison sings that."

But one of my new favorite Sarina moments came when we went to what was supposed to be a consignment sale at a community center, but when we got there, all the doors were locked. I had her in a carrier, facing me. I spotted a dad and young boy playing ball in the field nearby, and told Sarina that we'd go ask them if they knew what was going on. When we were about 20 feet away, she turned herself around and called out-- I swear--

"Excuse me! There seems to be a problem. We are lost in the parking lot, and every single door is locked."

She just turned 2.

And I've heard it said before, but I'm only just experiencing for myself the way you will say things as a parent that you cannot imagine ever saying in any other context, such as yesterday's topper: "I cannot paint your toenails if you keep sticking cheese between your toes."

How I entertained myself before her birth remains a mystery to me.

If I were to lose my ability to write

2009-04-15T14:06:00.003-04:00

...here are the jobs I could do instead:

-Personal sticker applicator. I am tremendous at applying decals to things that need decals. I got this train table set yesterday, and it came with about 8 thousand stickers to put all over the board. Depending on your point of view, it's either impressive or scary how anal I am about getting those stickers exactly right.

-Children's audio book narrator. I inherited this gene from my mom. We read children's books with great enthusiasm, voicing all of the dialogue with appropriately timbers.

-Expiration date checker at the grocery store.

-Chocolate chip cookie taster.

-The person who happens to be standing around at tourist spots so people can say, "Excuse me, can you take a picture of us?" and hand me their cameras. I really like doing this. I take great shots, and I imagine them later saying, "We totally asked the right woman to take this picture. Best picture ever."

-Baby hugger.

-American Idol judge. What? I can get qualifications. I can't possibly do worse than Randy. ("It was just aiight for me, dog.")

-Professional hula hooper. As a child, I beat the Guiness Book of World Records and no one even knew it. I told my mom, but I don't think she believed me.

I fixed the dryer.

2009-03-28T01:36:00.005-04:00

I fixed the dryer today. Well, not so much the dryer as the dryer door. And not so much "fix" as just realign it and screw it in properly, which the repairman failed to do when he made it stop sounding like someone was lighting off fire crackers in it.

Sometimes, it's the simplest things that cause the most consternation about getting divorced. You sit there on that first day after the big decision, thinking, "How am I ever going to do this? I have never put air in my own tires. I don't know when recycling day is. How do I make sure my pipes don't burst over the winter?"

And it all looks huge and overwhelming, and then you just close your eyes and trust that you're going to find a way. And day after day, you do. If you let yourself feel it, each thing-- each stupid little thing-- feels like a victory. It shows you that you're more capable than you knew.

Maybe especially if you have kids, there's the extra impetus to become more capable. I want Sarina to know her momma as someone who gets her hands dirty-- someone who can change a tire, fix a boo-boo, plant a garden, assemble do-it-yourself furniture, and play "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" on the guitar.

Yesterday, I put air in my tires. Today, I fixed the dryer. Tomorrow, I'm considering re-shingling the roof. (Er, just kidding.)

I'm Sarina's momma. I rule.

A little about Sarina

2009-01-20T04:40:00.003-05:00

She thanked me today...
for changing the sheets on the bed
for removing her socks
for changing her diaper
for taking her out to play

"Thank you, Mommy," she says. "Thank you for changing the sheets."

She wants to know what rhymes with "Joe" and "Blue," and where Meatball the Lion went, and if Aunt Peeka will come to our house soon. She wakes up from her nap and recaps her day for me down to the last detail-- such as that she was sitting on the Skee-Ball machine when she did poopies in her diaper.

"I need to be held in the carrier," she says, and "I need my hair"-- which is actually my hair, which has been her security blanket since she was born. She tugs on my hair and wraps it around her fingers while she sucks her thumb when she needs comfort. So I haven't used hair products in almost two years.

She made her public singing debut at my brother's 30th birthday party, using the Elvis impersonator's microphone. She sang "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head" and didn't want to stop, so she just kept repeating all the verses. "I'm never gonna stop the rain by compwaining" is my favorite part.

She recites her own versions of poems and stories. "This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had chicken nuggets..."

When she bounces in the inflatable bouncer with her 8-year-old friend "Miss Gina," she likes to sing "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" at the top of her lungs. I've never seen her be physical with another child anywhere except in this bouncer, where she actually grabbed a little girl by her waist and tackled her backwards because Sarina was having too much fun with her and didn't want the girl to leave. "You get back in here, Miss Ashley!" she said, giggling. She believes that everyone who enters the "Mommy and Me" building is "Miss" Somebody, even when that person is 4 years old.

Her favorite colors are pink and purple, and she's also growing a fondness for red.

She likes songs about rain and night. When she watches the tap dancing number for "Singing in the Rain," she exclaims, "That's Gene Kelly!"

She likes to strum my guitar when she sings, and she's delicate enough that I can let her do so.

Lately, she begins every other sentence with "Actually." "Actually, let's go to the bakery." Nearly every story she makes up involves a bakery. Every now and then she switches it up and makes the setting a deli or a diner instead. You'd think this means she's a big eater, but she's not. I go through every trick I know every meal just to get her to eat a decent amount. But she has a serious sweet tooth that I have to keep in check.

She likes to climb hills, play with Play-Doh, paint, wear lip gloss, jump on the bed, comb my hair, pretend various large and small household objects are Mommy and Sarina and make them "hug," and make snowballs.

After using the big girl potty for the first time, she announced, "I need a crown."

Several times a day, she tells me, "This is gonna be great!"

She is the coolest girl I've ever met.

Hello, World!

2009-01-05T02:04:00.007-05:00

On New Year's Eve, I found a link to the video on Kelly Corrigan's homepage. It was a tough day for me; in addition to the holiday, it was my brother's 30th birthday and my daughter wasn't with us. So you could blame it on that, but I think it was something more. I watched that little video and the tears just came to the surface. Like I needed them to. Sometimes, it's a gift to help someone cry.

I loved Kelly. Watching that video made me want to know more about her, so I read pretty much everything on her site. She talks about her father, a relentlessly positive person who welcomes each day by opening the windows and shouting "Hello, world!" And she talks about its effects on her as a child, feeling like the universe was actively rooting for her.

I thought this sounded like a good thing, so the next morning I had Sarina, I asked her, "What do you think? Should we open the windows and say 'Hello, world'?"

She grinned. "No, Mommy," she said. But I did it anyway. (The back window, if you're wondering. I'm not that brave yet-- I am still the new girl on the block, and I'd rather not have them suspect I'm nuts just yet.)

I told myself that I was going to learn to be more like Kelly's father, to help my daughter see all the good things in life. But then she turned the tables on me.

Suddenly, she wants to tell me how great everything is. We watch a homemade video of "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head," and she tells me, "What a great song!" She eats ice cream and proclaims it to be "awesome." I help her with a craft, and she says, "Good job, Mommy! That was perfect!" A grumpy-looking worker in a convenience store surprises me by giving Sarina a banana, and she says, "That was nice of him. What a nice man."

And she looks for ways to brighten my day. Every day, she gives me whatever flowers she finds around the house (an artificial silk arrangement, or ones made of paper or felt) and tells me, "I brought you a present, Mommy. These are for you, from Sarina!" She also tackle-hugs me and says, "It's Mommy Time!"

But tonight was the killer. After a day filled with family and fun, where she made everyone feel a little more special, we drove back to our new home. It's a townhouse in a nice little development. There's still so much to be done. Nothing left that needs to be done, but lots of aesthetic stuff that would make it nicer. The structure is perfect for us, though, and the place has a lot of potential. I can't afford to fix up everything at once, but I've been tackling what I can in order of importance. Some days it feels like I'll never get to it all, and others, I think, "This place is pretty nice even as it is."

As I pulled up, Sarina said, "Wow. What a great house."

"Yeah?" I asked. "You think it's great?"

"What a cool house. I have fun here."

"I'm so happy to hear you say that."

"It's going to be beautiful."

I hoisted her up and out of the car, and she looked for the moon-- Luna. Luna must have been behind clouds, though, because she was nowhere to be found.

"Maybe she's hiding in the snow," Sarina tells me.

"Maybe," I agree.

And we walk into our house, hugging tight against the wind. I think about the new year, and new beginnings, and how much life we both have still to live.

It's going to be beautiful.

On Word Counts: Shorter is Harder

2008-12-23T03:04:00.002-05:00

After 10 years, I'm finally realizing that I have a comfort zone when it comes to word counts. At least when it comes to magazine articles. I'd much rather write 1200-1500 words than anything much longer or shorter.

When an editor wants me to write front-of-the-book type stuff-- 400 to 800 words or so-- I cringe a little. I know it's going to be just about as much work as the longer stuff, for less pay. I'm still going to have to do interviews, I'm still going to transcribe them, I'm still going to write the same meat of the article... and then I'm going to struggle like crazy to trim it down to what almost always seems like too small a space for the topic.

Worse, though, is that there seem to be many editors who cannot grasp that 400 words is not enough to pack in everything they ask for in their brief. "Please write the entire history of the the automotive industry, and a sidebar about bicycles" is just not do-able.

So then I do the mental equivalent of stuffing 2 weeks' worth of clothing into a small suitcase, sitting on it and jumping on it and breaking into a sweat trying to get the darn thing zippered. Then I get the editors' follow-up questions: "This is interesting, but you haven't mentioned why tires are round, or the name of Henry Ford's great-grandson, or why puffy dice became a rear-view-mirror fad." And I have to reopen the darn suitcase and figure out how I'm supposed to stick MORE stuff in it without making the toothpaste explode.

By the end, I'm just closing it up with duct tape and a staple gun. The resulting word count is almost always longer than it was supposed to be, because there's just no way to do it otherwise. But I still get paid for the original assigned count, unless I manage to negotiate otherwise during the request for revisions. (If the editor is asking for something outside the scope of the original assignment, I can try negotiating for more money at this point. Otherwise, I'm pretty much out of luck.)

One of my fantasies involves my asking an editor what word count she wants, and having her reply, "Oh, you choose. I trust you. Heck, we'll just wait until your article arrives and format the rest of the issue around it."

That comes right after the "we'll-pay-you-$5-a-word" fantasy.

"Thank you for the songs."

2008-12-17T04:01:00.002-05:00

We go to a "Mommy and Me" group, where Sarina and I hang out and do a craft, play, have a snack, sing and dance, listen to a story, and learn about numbers and letters.

Sarina is very proud of her crafts-- almost as proud as I am. She likes to show people and say, "I made this!" Truth is I wouldn't have realized she was ready for that kind of stuff. I saw the glue and foam and glitter on the craft table and thought, "Yeah, right." But then Sarina began sticking on sequins and calling for green glitter like a little craft diva.

As we left this week, I prompted Sarina to say thank you to the owners. She did, then paused and added, "Thank you for the songs."

It snowed here today, all puffy and slushy. She wasn't here. I miss the heck out of her.

I think if my life circumstances were different, I would have been an Angelina Jolie type, with 7 kids. These days, I visit "waiting children" sites, where they show pictures and short profiles of kids who are in foster care awaiting adoption, and I dream about adopting them all. I think I'm only beginning to understand the person I'm meant to be.

Small steps. Small steps.

Other Sorts of Firsts

2008-12-13T03:23:00.004-05:00

I remember reading an article in a parenting magazine about less-popular "firsts": sure, we all notice the first step, the first word, and the first tooth, but this writer mentioned the first time her toddler picked up the phone and said, "Hewo?"

I'm not sure if Sarina had even been born at the time, or if I was still pregnant, but I remember thinking how toddlerhood was a far way off.

Tonight I had one of those sorts of firsts.

I had cleverly hidden her Christmas gifts in my closet-- which I do a good job of keeping closed-- but my parents came over today to help me install a ceiling fan, and apparently they left the closet door open. Later, when I was cleaning up dinner, Sarina walked off for a moment... and returned with three items: Mr. Potato Head, a Doodlebops book, and her "big" gift: the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse play set. I ain't exactly rich this year (I know, who is?), so it's not like I can just go out and buy more toys to replace the ones she discovered. So I briefly tried to just take them away and hide them again. Maybe she'd forget that she saw them?

Yeah. No.

"Open it, Mommy! Open it," she begged. I finally gave up and opened the Clubhouse. She was thrilled. Thrilled. The annoyance I had about her opening it before Christmas wilted away. It was too much fun watching how happy she was.

And that's when the "first" happened. She recently began playing with figurines and arranging them on shelves, pretending to feed them, telling me what they wanted, etc., but this was the first time she actually made up a story and had them interacting with one another.

"Minnie, let's go to the bakery and get some happy birthday cake," she said, posing as Minnie's pet elephant. Then she picked up Minnie and said, "Okay, but first, let's do the Mousekedance. Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggity dooooog!" Back to the elephant. "Let's go to the bakery in the big red car." And she put them in the car.

I flashed back to the days when I used to play The Littles with my mom. I always wanted her to be Daphne. She made up good stories. And here was my little girl, 21 months old now, so smart and so sweet, giving me a glimpse into what's ahead for us.

The other first came yesterday: "I need to be held, Mommy." I'm glad she knows what she needs. And I'm glad she's such a snuggly girl. Otherwise, she'd be so sick of me by now.

Do you remember any sentimental sorts of firsts that aren't pre-printed in any baby books?

Mickey Mouse is invading my child's brain

2008-12-02T03:06:00.004-05:00

Have to say, I'm not a big fan of the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse series, but my daughter is, so... yeah. We have a bunch of the books. In them, Mickey Mouse and friends call on Toodles to come bring them their Mouseketools when they have a problem that needs fixing. Our latest book describes a machine. When it works, it makes the noise "chugga-chugga-chug-chug," and when it's broken, it makes the noise "chugga-chugga-squeak!"

Okay, that was background information. Now I can tell you what happened.

Sarina was trying on Mommy's shoes again, as she does several times a day. She toddled around in my shoes until she stumbled and fell on her bottom behind my exercise bike (which makes a great clothes hanger).

"Do you need help?" I asked.

"Yes," came the reply. "I need a Mouseketool."

The next day, we visited my parents, and Sarina tried to get water from their water machine. She doesn't know how to use it, though. The hot water button is safety-locked. Sarina pressed it a couple of times, then looked at me soberly and said, "Chugga-chugga-squeak!"

The best excuse I've ever received...

2008-11-25T01:07:00.002-05:00

...for why an interviewee will have to postpone our talk for a little while:

"He can't come to the phone right now because he's in a tree with a rifle."

(That would be hotelier Tim Dixon. Quite a character.)

Freelancers Union: Worst of the Worst

2008-11-24T14:45:00.006-05:00

Freelancers Union, also known as Working Today, offers freelancers health insurance in 31 states. I signed up with them two or three years ago, when the National Writers Union lost its health insurance provider. It seemed like a good idea-- an organization for freelancers, by freelancers, to negotiate good health insurance rates for the group.

Ha!

I began experiencing trouble with their customer service right away. It was clear that the organization's president, Sara Horowitz, used lots of nice words that had no actual meaning. She wrote to us about their commitment to better customer service and how glad she was that people kept them accountable... then did nothing to improve anything, and ignored our letters.

To be more specific, I'll use my current example.

They made a math error on my August bill. I had overpaid for two months, and they owed me a refund. Instead, they charged me again. I began politely e-mailing; they refused to acknowledge the problem. They told me to call-- I did, and was put on hold for MORE THAN ONE HOUR, then hung up on.

You'd think that would be enough torment, but no, I called back-- and got hung up on again.

I e-mailed several times. Here's the main point I made:

I overpaid for two months at $1067.49 (total: $2134.98) when my plan cost $683.65 (total: $1367.30), so I should have been credited a total of $767.68. That would have meant one month (my 8/15 invoice) where I didn't have to make any payment, plus a credit of $84.03 toward the following month. Instead, I was charged $299.81, which means that only half of my overpayment was credited. Or I was charged for an extra month. Either way, I do not have a credit for the full $767.68 that I overpaid.

They have ignored me for weeks. I wrote again to let them know I had been on hold more than an hour, and asked them to call me instead. They did not.

Then-- surprise!-- they sprang a fast one on their members. They decided not to provide health insurance through other providers anymore. Instead, Freelancers Union would be its own health insurance company... with higher premiums and fewer benefits than members had in the past with other companies. No choice: all of us would be dropped from our current plans at the end of December. Hey, thanks for the notice!

Even people who had just registered for Freelancers Union last month specifically for the health plans offered were not informed that they would get only one month on the plan they selected, then be forced to switch to the (for-profit) plans offered by the brand new "FIC" (Freelancers Insurance Company).

So here I am on hold again. I'm typing this as I wait. So far, it's been 28 minutes. I think I'll go make lunch.

Here's a link to read more in the meantime: http://upsetfu.blogspot.com

UPDATE: After I stayed on hold for 31 MINUTES, they hung up on me again. Nice system!

No autographs, please!

2008-11-14T02:13:00.004-05:00

And now I'll blow your mind (unless you're a published author, in which case you may already know this scenario).

There I was in Barnes & Noble the other day. My book The Marilyn Monroe Treasures has just come out, and I happened to be across the street with my mom, so I suggested we stop in and take a look at it in all its glory.

I already knew it was selling pretty well at that store, because a friend of mine had seen 16 copies on an endcap, then my mom went in two days later and there were 12, and when we walked in this time, there were 5. So at least 11 copies had sold that week. I felt good about that.

Since it was an impromptu stop, I didn't have a Sharpie on me. I went to the customer service desk to borrow one.

"Hi," I said. "I'm the author of The Marilyn Monroe Treasures, which you have in stock up front. I'd love to sign the copies you have if you can lend me a Sharpie."

The clerk actually looked upset. She referred me to a woman I assume was her supervisor, who looked the way you might look if someone offers you a plate of pickled mice.

"Well, we don't usually do that," she said. "But I guess... tell me about your book."

I pointed down the aisle. "It's right there. Why don't I just show it to you?"

She walked with me, with a face that told me she was trying to look polite, but was truly not happy that I had come to the store.

"Oh, it's one of these books with the memorabilia. How nice. People really love these books."

"Yes," I told her. "I love working on them. They're such beautiful coffee table books."

"This will do well for the holidays. Okay, I'll need to see your ID," she said. I laughed. My mom had just asked me in the car if bookstore employees ever ask for ID before I sign books. I told her no one ever had.

My mom laughed, too, and flipped to the back of the Marilyn Monroe book to show the woman my author photo. "There's her ID," she said.

The bookstore worker smiled, but still wanted to see my ID. I pulled out a credit card or something, and she was satisfied. I also mentioned to her that I was happy to see that they had sold so many of my books already this week.

"Well..." she said hesitantly, picking up two out of the five books. "Why don't you sign a couple?"

At this point you may be wondering why in the world a bookstore worker would ever want to discourage an author from signing her books. Doesn't that make them more valuable, more likely to sell?

Yes. But I already knew what this woman was thinking: "If she signs them, we might not be able to return them."

So I tell her, "Oh! Barnes and Noble actually published this book, so you don't have to worry about returns. You're not going to return it to yourself."

She kind of believes me. But she explains, "Yeah, that's the problem. When we try to return signed books, publishers won't take them back because they say they're 'damaged.'"

I've heard this before. I don't know whether this is wholly true or not. I suspect that maybe a few publishers do use this excuse, but I'm skeptical about this being a widespread problem.

See, bookstores still work on consignment. They can order in, say, 25 copies of your new book, then wait and see how they sell. If only 5 sell, they can just return the other 20 to the publisher and get full credit (sometimes including shipping). And generally, they can return those books at any time. They might pull them after just a few weeks, or they might literally let books sit on the shelf for years-- long after the publisher believes the books have been sold and spent the money from them. Publishers know that the money they've received can be taken back at any point. It's a crazy business model, and everyone knows it.

I once had a bookstore refuse to let me sign books at all-- because the books were shrink-wrapped. (This was Celine Dion: For Keeps, which was shrink-wrapped so the memorabilia wouldn't fall out or get damaged. I hated that, though, because it meant no one could thumb through the books and see how beautiful they were-- and how likely are you to spend $39.95 on a book you can't look through first?) For me to sign the books, they would have had to take off the shrink-wrapping, and... you guessed it. They worried they wouldn't be able to return them.

This bookstore worker "let" me sign the five books, and my mother asked if those were the only ones left, or if they might have more in stock in the back.

"I don't know," she said, "But I wouldn't have her sign more than five anyway."

So much for my explanation about how, y'know, they PUBLISHED this book, so they weren't going to return it to themselves. Sigh.

As I was signing the books, though, a woman looked over and asked, "Is that a biography of Marilyn Monroe?" I said yes and handed her a copy to look at. She told me she was going to buy it.

"Great," I said. "Do you want me to personalize it to someone?"

"Um, if you do, I have to ask you to buy it first," the bookstore worker interjected.

I don't mean to blame the worker. I get that she's doing her job as assigned. It was just such a sad state of affairs, as I apologetically followed the woman to the cash register.

I hear this treatment of authors isn't the same everywhere. I suppose a lot of this is because I live in New York, state of authors on every corner. I've even heard tales of authors being treated to muffins and scones and whatnot. Though I suspect the scone author was exaggerating. I mean, seriously. Scones! For free!

You think they'd do this to Stephen King?

"Um, okay, Mr. King. You can sign five of these books. Could you do it in pencil so we can erase it if they don't sell?"

I'm glad I picked a field where they keep my ego in check. I mean, my self-esteem was approaching lukewarm when I entered the store. That could be dangerous!

Halloween 2008

2008-11-03T18:05:00.006-05:00

Our First Grammatical Debate

2008-11-03T16:56:00.007-05:00

Sarina's new favorite song is "When the Lights Go Out" by the Doodlebops, which is lucky for me, because I really like the song, too. But she believes that the correct wording should be "When the Lights Go Down."

We argued about it for a bit. I told her that she was indeed right that it could be "When the Lights Go Down," but that in this case, the song lyric was "When the Lights Go Out," which was also acceptable. She would have none of it.

"Of course, 'When the Lights Go Down,'" she told me.

She made me put on the music video again, and I thought this would settle the debate, but instead, I believe she was making me watch it so I could see just how very, very wrong DeeDee Doodlebug was. Perhaps she wanted me to write a letter of protest to make them change the title.

Or perhaps she was just stalling bedtime again.

Here she is singing the Sesame Street theme song. 19 months old.

Here she is singing the ABCs.

And here she is cracking up in a video I like to call "Down, Cat," to prove that even budding geniuses can still laugh at stupid stuff.

Halloween pics coming up in the next post. Stay tuned.

A message from Sarina

2008-10-20T01:24:00.003-04:00

Our friend Lisa and her sister-in-law sent over a ton of fall and winter clothes for Sarina. Sarina has been modeling in front of the mirror for two days now, and exclaiming, "Cute!" about everything (her favorite is the Wiggles hat, which she's wearing at totally inappropriate times). She has a message for Lisa:

She wrote a song

2008-09-28T01:02:00.007-04:00

This just can't be normal. Are 18-month-olds supposed to make up their own songs? Her first one went something like this:

We go shopping
And we buy white socks
And purple socks, too

She serenaded me with it while she ate dinner tonight. Then I realized she stuck purple socks into the cart, in the wrong size. You know how it feels silly to go back to a store to exchange one pair of socks? So you wind up keeping them for five years until finally realizing that, no, you're never going to meet someone who needs this particular pair of size 3-4 1/2 purple socks, so you stick them in a donation bag? Is that just me?

Anyway, this week has been all about questions. Sarina is asking whatever's on her mind now-- "What's that noise?" "Is something wrong?" "Aunt Pat, what are you doing with the saw?" "How 'bout pancakes?"

She also has shown her first fear: the door. When someone walks in the door without knocking or ringing the bell, she screams, "Mommy! Mommy!" and runs to me for protection. It's so sad to see her get this nervous, and the only thing any of us can figure that might have triggered this is Elmo's World-- an episode where Elmo hears things behind a door and opens the door to find out what's making the noises. That's the first time we saw her get really freaked out by a door opening. She ran behind a chair and shook while Elmo opened the door.

We're in the process of moving now. Actually, we moved into our new place already, but it's still a work-in-progress. It's been a challenge, but we're definitely getting there. I'm slowly getting furniture on Craigslist and at garage sales, mostly, and I got all new carpets put in last week. I wasn't able to finish painting before the carpets went in, though, so I still have a good deal of painting left to do.

The first decorative item I bought is something I really love, though. It's this:

Our new neighbors are great. One already had me over for lunch, and the couple next door have grandkids who played so wonderfully with Sarina. When she went in for a nap, they actually hung around waiting, eagerly asking me if she could come back out and play when she got up. These are elementary school-age kids-- it's so touching to see them pay attention to a toddler, and she really loved them. All I heard that night was, "Thomas! Thomas! Thomas!" Hmm. Perhaps I have failed wih my "Boys are icky and you should not even look at them until you are 25" lesson.

I got to introduce Sarina to Celine Dion before a concert last week, too. We hung out in her dressing room, where Sarina promptly stole whatever she could grab of Celine's makeup. Celine is always a good sport, though, and said, "She's a girl! She's supposed to like makeup," and put lipgloss on Sarina, who kept checking herself out in the dressing room mirror and grinning.

A photographer took professional pictures of us ("us" being my parents, brother, brother's friend Jacqueline, Sarina, and me), but I don't have them yet. I do have a few pics from Jacqueline, though-- this one's my favorite.

OH. And The Marilyn Monroe Treasures arrived! It's scheduled to be in stores by November 6, but I got my author copies this week, and they look pretty amazing. I love working on this series of books-- you can't help but feel proud to be a part of something that looks so darn pretty. The designer picked a perfect last shot, too-- Marilyn puckering up for a kiss, looking like she's kissing the reader goodbye. I hope the serious fans will like this book. I think they will.

Another gratuitous Sarina picture:

I think this is the last picture taken of us in our old house (on an autotimer). That feels significant somehow.

Pampers Swaddlers Sensitive

2008-09-08T01:00:00.004-04:00

Diapers and I are not friends, in general. I've never found a brand and type that really works for Sarina, who apparently has an unusual body type for a toddler. (She's tall and thin, so the leg holes are always... insufficient.) But as the months go on, I've switched brands and types a few times, because different types have worked better for her at different ages.

What started it all were the Pampers Swaddlers, which I kept her in as long as possible. And now they've introduced Pampers Swaddlers Sensitive, which is a nice step up. Pampers sent me a pack to review-- hey, thanks, Pampers-- but since Sarina is beyond the "Swaddlers" sizes (which go up to only size 2), I can't give a tried-and-tested review, only a review of my observations.

What got me excited about this diaper (yes, moms DO get excited about these sorts of things) was the "wetness indicator." The PR person emphasized this, but I was surprised to see that it wasn't at all highlighted on the package. In fact, it wasn't mentioned on the front of the package at all-- just this tiny little blurb on the top part of the package.

Turns out maybe it was best not to mention it too much. There's a stripe down the middle of the diaper that turns from pale yellow to blue when the baby is wet... at least in theory. In practice, I had to put an awful lot of water into that diaper before it decided to "indicate." By then, I think I'd be able to tell the diaper was wet without needing to see an indicator. I'd just notice the giant puffy diaper.

But what really did deliver was the softness. Ohh, the softness. I picked up this diaper and wanted to cuddle with it. (Hush your mouth.) I swear. It's that soft. I had to rub it again 10 minutes later just because it gave me softness glee. (Stop looking at me like that.)

There's a touch of aloe in it and it's made to allow air to reach baby's skin to stay drier. The idea is that this is a very breathable, gentle, hypoallergenic diaper. Which sounds like a good idea to me.

Excuse my bumbling background erasing skills

2008-08-22T00:10:00.002-04:00

but this is one of my favorite pics ever.

Also, the other day, I bought Sarina a toy guitar at a garage sale, and there were no batteries in it. Sarina spotted the guitar and tried pressing its buttons.

"It broke," she told me.

"It just needs batteries," I said.

She walked into the living room, pulled out the television remotes, and removed the batteries from them.

"Got the batteries!" she announced.

17 months old.

I love this kid.

P.S. I'm getting divorced. It's not something I want to talk/post about, but it's something that's awkward having people not know about for so long. So there it is.

Before I Was a Mother

2008-08-10T23:59:00.002-04:00

Before I was a mother, I thought women who said things like "My kids are my whole world" must have pretty sad lives.

I thought it must be a drag to have to think of someone else's needs before your own all the time.

I thought my career defined me.

I didn't understand all the fuss about breastfeeding and why women would ever want to continue it for more than a year.

I cared about suffering children, but I didn't physically ache every time I heard about a child who was abused, starving, suffering from a disease, or abandoned.

I didn't know that spending a Friday night making stacks of paper cups and watching a toddler knock them down could be a really great night.

I didn't know baby kisses could be the most memorable kisses of my life.

I hated pink.

Shopping really wasn't my thing. I had no idea it could be so much fun to shop for things for my child.

I didn't understand that all the gross things kids do aren't gross when they're your kids.

I didn't know that I could go days without sleep and not even be mad at the person who made me go days without sleep.

I didn't know how what an honor it would be to have someone give you complete trust, to feel that little body "let go" and fall asleep in your arms.

I didn't realize how deeply I could love.

There Goes My Baby

2008-08-04T00:23:00.004-04:00

On August 3, 2008, at approximately 9:30 p.m., my baby ceased being a baby.

It all started last week, really, when she began talking in complete sentences. I asked, "Sarina, do you want me to open the door?" and she responded, "Mommy, open the door."

Several 4-word phrases and sentences followed. She dropped a quarter in her grandparents' pool and said, "Money in the pool!"

What got me the most, aside from the fact that she was 16 months old, was that she was speaking in gramatically correct terms. I was unstoppably happy, glowing with the pride of a parent who's just found out her daughter will be the valedictorian of her class at Harvard AND has paid off her schooling with the money she's made as a cover model for tasteful magazines. Then the unstoppable happiness stopped.

It happened when I was preparing for Sarina's bath. She was playing in her room, and I went to her closet to check for diapers. She came up behind me and tapped me.

"Yes, Sarina?"

"Mommy," she said, looking up at me, "What are you doing?"

I stammered, "I'm looking to see if we have any overnight diapers left," and my heart momentarily stopped mid-beat. I was explaining myself to Sarina. My baby was gone. In her place was this brilliant child, capable of expressing original thoughts and questions. She wasn't parroting me. She was just coming over and asking me what was on her mind.

It's all fun and games until someone expresses original thoughts.

Suddenly, it was serious. No more squealing to my dear relatives about the latest bit of Sarina brilliance. No, this was a moment of mourning. I felt like she skipped so many stages at once-- leaping straight from one word at a time to complete sentences within a week, bypassing the cute mixed-up sentence structures toddlers are supposed to have. She's even using pronouns and contractions properly. Where's the fun in that?

She also decided to use her potty today for the first time, just to rub it in. And she said, "My big girl potty!"

This girl astounds me, not just because she's so bright, but because she's the sweetest, most loving, non-complaining, tough little giggler I could have imagined. I could work the rest of my life at being the best parent I can be (and I sure plan to), and never feel like I'm worthy of her. Her awesomeness is just too awesome.

Thanks for coming along for the ride. I'm glad I have people who I can share this stuff with.

P.S. Hey, guess what? Did you know it's possible to really and truly get sick of reading a story you wrote to your own child? ("Yes, Sarina. Hattie, Hattie, Hattie. She gets a haircut. Blah blah blah!")

A new kind of joy

2008-07-04T23:23:00.004-04:00

I experienced a new joyful "first" today, and it caught me off-guard. I was reading Sarina a book, and she decided-- as she is wont to do-- that she wanted me to read her a different book. So she popped off my lap and went to her bookshelf, and brought me the book she wanted me to read.

And it was a book I wrote.

*Dies of happiness.*

Scott, Kimmi, and Sarina

2008-06-21T00:38:00.006-04:00

A few months ago, my former editor at Nomad (hi, Lauri!) recommended me for a job writing a book proposal for Scott Rigsby, the first double-amputee to complete an Ironman. He was featured on NBC's 2007 Ironman special-- a great show, which you should definitely watch if it reruns again. I'm no sports person, but this was a human interest piece to the extreme. Great stories.

So that's what I've been doing these past few months: working with Scott to get this book proposal ready. Slowly. (Yeah, this balancing-motherhood-with-writing stuff is still a huge challenge to me.) How lucky am I to have found a person who doesn't mind being interviewed at midnight?

The proposal is just about done, and I can't wait to see where this book lands. A few publishers are already interested, just based on the pitch, but I suspect a lot more will be excited about it once they read this proposal. It's the longest one I've ever written... closing in on 60 pages. I thought it was important to write three full sample chapters on this one, which I've never done before. I wanted to give a sense of the highs and lows of the story, which is hard to do in just short snippets.

Anyway. The reason I'm mentioning him now is that he's a top-10 finalist in the Energizer "Keep Going" Hall of Fame, which will be decided by online votes. It would be a great accomplishment for him to win it, so I'm asking you to click on over and vote for him if his story inspires you. You don't need to register, and you can vote once a day. Right here.

You can also learn more about Scott at www.scottrigsby.com. He's a very cool guy.

Also want to give a shout-out to my friend Kimmi, who just SOLD HER AWESOME MEMOIR, currently titled The Unbreakable Child. 'Bout time.

Oh.

And some more Sarina pics. ;)

She's more and more affectionate these days. She's very into the "leg hug," and squeezing really hard around the neck.

New-ish feats: she signs to me to let me know when her diaper is dirty, she's starting to dance, she's attempting to feed and offer drinks to her stuffed animals, she blows kisses to strangers, she removes her high chair tray and says, "Done!" as it falls to the ground (naughty, naughty), she knows how to use keys, she sticks things into the VCR (already?! Sheesh. This thing is going to be filled with crayons within days, I know it), and she writes with a pen.

Also, she's reading. I know, now I just sound like a show-off, but I kid you not. Without my coaxing, she started pointing to words and reading or signing them. I've heard her do "all gone," "milk," "done," and a few others. She also recognizes some letters-- the ones that show on her alphabet mat that I mentioned several posts ago. There are toys on top of the mat, so only certain letters are showing on the floor. When I ask her to find the letter R, or Y, or O, she goes right over and points to it.

And that's all the news that's fit to print today.

No, Seriously, You Look Like Poop

2008-05-31T02:09:00.004-04:00

Little in life is more disheartening than this conversation I had yesterday with an acquaintance I see every few weeks:

Her: You don't look good.

Me: That's because I'm not wearing makeup.

Her: No, really. Your eyes are very puffy.

Me: No, that's how I always look. You just normally see me with makeup.

Her: You look like you've been crying.

Me: I haven't. I promise.

Her: You really don't look good.

*Sigh.* Thanks, lady. Could you perhaps point me to the nearest bridge that I could hurl myself off?

My eyes aren't aging well. The rest of me is fine, but I've always, always had a problem with big bags under my eyes, and they're only getting worse with time. I've tried dozens of products, but no success so far. I'm actually contemplating plastic surgery eventually, because it's just hard to feel good about yourself when people actually insist on a regular basis that you must not be sleeping. (I am.)

Of course, I've tried the cucumber slices, tea bags, frozen spoons, and yes, Preparation-H, but no luck.

I hereby offer a challenge to any company that makes products for undereye circles or puffiness under the eyes: if you want to send me your product for review, and it works, I'll blog the heck out of it. I'll blog it till the cows come home. Till the river meets the sea, till lovers cease to dream.

Meanwhile, more sweet Sarina pics...

I got a kiss!

2008-04-29T23:03:00.004-04:00

Yaaaaaaaaaaay!

Do you understand how long I've been trying to coax a kiss out of this girl? Tonight, as usual, I asked, "Sarina, can I have a kiss on the cheek?" And this time, she did it. Twice.

Bartender! Smoothies for everyone, on me!

FREE! I mean it. The Street-Smart Writer.

2008-04-29T01:57:00.003-04:00

The Street-Smart Writer: Self-Defense Against Sharks and Scams in the Writing World is one of the more important books I've written (co-written, actually, with publishing attorney Daniel Steven).

My publisher has kindly released an ebook version totally FREE, no strings attached, through Wowio.com. They add in a sponsor's ad in the front and back, but aside from that, it's exactly the same as the print book (which costs $16.95).

Here's the link: http://www.wowio.com/users/product.asp?BookId=2646

You have to register with Wowio, but I did that a few weeks ago to make sure they wouldn't spam or do any funny business... they didn't. So NO EXCUSES! It's free, and you don't even have to leave the comfort of your computer. Please, read this book, blog about it, send the link on to all the new and new-ish writers you know, and let's help save people from becoming easy prey for scammers and schemers in the publishing world. Thanks!

Here's the book's description:

Veteran writer Jenna Glatzer teams up with publishing attorney Daniel Steven to expose the scams and unsavory deals writers are likely to encounter along their path to publishing success. The Street-Smart Writer is an essential reference for all writers to getting published without getting swindled.

This book will help writers spot an honest agent or manager, determine the value of vanity publishing, and avoid getting conned out of hundreds, or even thousands, of dollars when signing a contract. Sections on writing contests teach writers how to determine which contests are useless; other sections offer tips on avoiding costly conferences and shady seminars. A special focus on copyright ensures that writers protect their work from schemers who want to use creativity without paying for it. Appendices include sample publishing, agent, and manager contracts.

Motherhood Photo

2008-04-28T22:58:00.004-04:00

5 Minutes for Mom is having a photo contest, and the challenge is to find a photo that exemplifies what motherhood means to you. This one is mine.

Three generations. One little girl who makes my world turn. I finally "get it," what life is all about.

Boop.

She sings!

2008-04-28T02:41:00.002-04:00

Sarina is attempting her first song. And it's Old MacDonald. A week ago or so, she started saying "E-I," which I knew was the beginning of "E-I-E-I-O." Tonight, she attempted to sing it. "E-I-YIIII... E-I-YIIII..." Four times, and she smiled, pleased with her attempt.

These are the times I feel like one giant feeling. Like I'm just a big fuzzy ball of love and pride and more love. This is my daughter. My daughter sits in my lap and wants to read books and sing. She's a real little person, figuring out her likes and dislikes, letting me come along for the ride. Even when nothing else is going right, I still get to be Sarina's mother, and that's enough.

Happy birthday, Connor!

2008-04-28T01:11:00.003-04:00

Connor is turning one, and his mom, Angela, feels just the same way about it as I did about Sarina turning one... happy and sad at the same time. Lucky and blessed and wishing time would slow down.

Do you know what we did tonight for half an hour? Flopped around on the bed. She got a huge kick out of "falling" on the bed and realizing she wasn't going to get hurt, so she started flopping herself all around on the pillows, cracking up the whole time. So I joined her. And remembered something-- hey, it's fun to bounce around on a bed. Thank God for this silly little person who reminds me how to smile.

My kissyface

2008-04-25T01:28:00.004-04:00

She now pulls out the book she wants me to read, hands it to me, then sits on my lap. Then, as I turn pages, she kisses the characters she likes. Sometimes I feel like my heart will burst.

Normally, she doesn't kiss actual people yet-- though I did trick her into kissing my hand and she spontaneously kissed my arm one morning-- but she kisses pictures and clothing pretty often. Her favorite book remains Don't Be So Nosy, Posy, and she loves kissing the pig and cow in that book.

She says about 30 words now; Elmo, purple, cookie, and neigh are some of the more recent ones. And she's making up some of her own sign language. One is driving me bats: she'll sign "eat," and I'll ask, "Are you hungry?" Then she'll do this very weird sign she made up-- she clasps the fingers on her right hand together and turns her hand upside down and sticks it over one eye. What in Zeus's name is that supposed to mean? I can narrow it down-- it's not cereal, milk, cheese, or cookie (she knows the signs or words for those). So I'm guessing it's one of her other favorite foods or drink: yogurt, crackers, bread, juice, or Peach Puffs. But she hasn't told me yet.

A new pic that I'm in love with. Warm weather means outdoors photos. Yay!

Between this photo and the one below it, which is your favorite?

A pic at the park

2008-04-20T01:38:00.002-04:00

Good news for Marilyn

2008-04-13T00:13:00.003-04:00

I'm very happy to say that my next book, The Marilyn Monroe Treasures (coming in October from Metro Books), is a Book of the Month Club pick, and the Spanish and Italian rights have been sold. It looks like other foreign editions will follow soon. I've seen the galleys and they look terrific.

I've had just one other foreign edition before, so this is exciting to me.

I'm still having a heckuva time trying to figure out how to balance motherhood and writing, though. I need to sell something huge so I can take a break until Sarina's in elementary school! Got any bestselling book ideas that you don't plan to use lying around?

Oh, the Fabulousness of it All!

2008-03-21T02:42:00.004-04:00

Lookit! Lookit who's a "Best Eyes" finalist!

http://poshietots.blogspot.com/2008/03/help-us-choose-our-fabulous-baby.html

She does have fabulous lashes, I must say.

I'd sure love it if you'd go over there and vote for Sarina. Winner gets a $50 gift certificate to their shop and a blanket.

Happy birthday, my lovebug

2008-03-02T19:25:00.011-05:00

This is a picture that, to me, sums up my daughter pretty well:

That's from a couple of days ago. She has a cough, cold, double ear infection, and sore throat. You can see that one eye is more closed than the other. And still, she is so grinny and so full of love.

This is today:

For her one-year birthday, she decided to just talk up a storm. I'm sure I'm leaving some out, but here are the words she now says, in approximate order of when she said them:

mama, baba, cat, dada, ball, girl, "bo" (almost boy), uh-oh, coat, good girl, boom (or bummmm!), moon, comb, car. She learned "comb" and "car" today.

I should add, though, that she still doesn't know who "mama" is. I thought she did, but alas, then she pointed to the photo of a black 4-year-old girl and said "Mama!" Hoping it was a brief case of amnesia, I forgave her. Next she pointed to a little blond boy and declared "Mama," too. Then a turtle. I give up.

She is walking all the way across the room, turning, and coming back. Today, she's doing it sort of sideways and drunkenly because she's on so many medications.

I'm trying hard not to think about the idea that she's officially no longer a baby now. I think I reject that notion. She's still my baby! But she certainly is "toddling."

I have never been more certain of anything in my life than that this little girl was meant to be mine. She is so much more than I hoped for. I wish I had something poetic and profound to say, but I feel like I've been at a loss for appropriate words since the day she was born. She turned me into a hack writer. Everything I want to say about her sounds like melodrama, or cliche. But all those greeting card sentiments are true... she does give my life meaning. She is everything to me. I am so lucky to be her mom.

Sarina, my sweet, if you ever read this blog, know that you brought your mommy, and so many other people, so much joy this year. I hope I can do the same for you. 'Cause you're stuck with me, kid. ;)

We are Communicating

2008-02-25T01:25:00.009-05:00

Whoever invented baby sign language gets an A+ in my book. Sarina now tells me when she's tired or hungry. She does the sign for "sleep," and if I don't pay attention fast enough, she grabs my hand and does the sign for sleep with my hand, too. And she does the "eating" sign roughly every 3 minutes... 'cause the girl likes her snacks!

She's a sign language whiz, I tell you. She knows: more, cereal, moon, stars, eating, hat, love, sleep, bib...

Her first birthday is so close now (March 2). I can't believe her baby year is almost over already. I'm not going to have a baby anymore... I'm going to have a toddler! I'm not ready for that!

But anyway... have some new pics. I hope they make you smile.

Thanks to Amanda and and Lisa McGrath for the great lounge set! Amanda made the pants and Lisa made the shirt.

I Probably Got Whistled At

2008-02-03T18:10:00.000-05:00

As I passed him, a man working at a booth in the mall whistled. At me. Probably at me. I mean, I'm almost certain.

I was wearing my winter coat and pushing a stroller containing my exquisitely wonderful 11-month old, which made it more exciting to get whistled at. It's funny how, when you're under 30, you want to clobber the louts who wolf-whistle at you. When you're over 30, you think maybe you should give them $5 tips, those sweet gentlemen!

So I walked away thinking, "Go, me. That classy mall worker thinks I'm a hot mama. It must be so! This bulky coat can't contain my explosive inner hottitude."

But then I second-guessed myself. Maybe there was a gorgeous little college woman walking next to me and I didn't notice her because I was too busy cultivating my inner hottitude. Maybe that was someone else's whistle that I was taking credit for.

And I briefly contemplated walking back to the mall worker and asking, "Excuse me, but was that me you were whistling at?" ("It was? Oh, thank you. Here's $5.")

But I still remember asking if there really was a Santa Claus and getting the honest answer, and two crushing disappointments in one lifetime might have been too much to bear, so I just pushed that stroller right outside. My self-esteem has been in limbo ever since.

Pardon me. I need to go find a construction site.

Congrats, Jennifer!

2008-02-01T20:38:00.000-05:00

Congrats to Jennifer at The Word Cellar, who won herself a copy of The Street-Smart Writer. If you haven't already, go read the comments on my giveaway post-- they're great.

She Touched a Boy on His Butt

2008-02-01T15:08:00.000-05:00

Sarina has really never been around babies or kids. There just aren't any in my family (I'm the oldest among all the siblings and cousins, and the first to have a baby). So I brought her to Gymboree last week, in part to see how she'd react.

There was only one other baby there (9 months old and petite, whereas Sarina is a giant, so they didn't look close in age). So the sweetest thing was that Sarina kept crawling her way over to the baby, trying to play. She tried to pass a ball to her, but I don't think the other baby was interested. Still, Sarina waved to her at the end of class. I nearly cried from adorable overload.

I brought her back this week, and there were bunches of babies! And what she wanted to do was touch the babies. She would crawl over to a little one, then touch a leg or arm or whatever. She often tried handing them her toys-- she's REALLY into sharing. No one took her up on her offers, though.

One baby boy was standing, and she used his leg to help her get into a kneeling position, then she touched his butt. Good thing his mom has a sense of humor. I apologized for the odd fondling, but really, I was elated-- I love that she's trying to make little friends. I didn't know what to expect, because I've read that babies normally aren't social creatures until around 18 months, but I've seen how she reacts to pictures of babies in magazines, and I suspected she might want to meet some in real life.

She's also picked up a fun new habit: dancing or conducting whenever she hears music. When the radio is on, she raises her hands like she's conducting an orchestra. When I sing, she just sort of bounces up and down like so:

P.S. Why, yes, those are more clippies from our friend Tabitha at Bow Baby Bow.

Bloggy Giveaway: Bullyproof Your Child For Life

2008-01-29T12:38:00.000-05:00

Hi, Bloggy Giveaways people! I've vaccuumed and set up a couple of gallons of coffee and tea and baked up some pigs in blankets in anticipation of your arrival. Oh, and some potato puffs and a veggie platter for the vegetarians among us.

This is my first bloggy giveaway. Yay, me!

I'm giving away one of my books-- your choice between Bullyproof Your Child for Life and The Street-Smart Writer.

Bullyproof Your Child for Life is a book I co-wrote with Dr. Joel Haber ("The Bully Coach"). It teaches strategies for warding off current bullies and making your kids less attractive to bullies in the future. It covers a variety of situations: school, camp, sports, and online, with a special section for kids with special needs. Read more here.

The Street-Smart Writer is a book I co-wrote with publishing attorney Daniel Steven about avoiding scams and seedy characters in the writing and publishing world, so you can publish your work without worrying about getting ripped off or taken for a ride. Read more here.

The winner chooses which one she or he wants, and I'll gladly autograph it. U.S. mailing addresses only.

To enter, you must entertain me. Tell me one little funny story about your family. If you can't think of funny, I'm all for touching stories, too. I'll pick one winner at random on Feb. 1st and e-mail that person (so make sure you have an e-mail address in your profile, or leave an e-mail address in the comment).

Thanks for visiting me! Hope you'll come back again sometime. I'll woo you with pictures of my sweet, sweet baby...

And this one is my entry for the silly pic for ...and the rest is history.

There's more where that came from! See you soon.

Sometimes I am Stunningly Stupid

2008-01-27T00:15:00.000-05:00

So, I went to a thrift store yesterday and bought a couple of outfits for Sarina and some foam alphabet tiles-- the kind you put on the floor. I was very excited about this purchase: costs $25 new, but I got it for just $3! Yay, me!, I'm thinking. Sure, they were a bit dirty, but nothing a sponge and soap won't fix.

An hour and 11 minutes into the scrubbing, I thought perhaps there might have been a better use of my time.

That's when I began calculating. The gas money it took to drive BACK to the thrift store today when I realized I left these fabulous alphabet tiles on their counter. The sponge I used up while washing my brains out. The soap. The hot water for an hour and 17 minutes (which eventually went cold and turned my pruny hands to ice). The fact that I could have written something during that hour and 17 minutes that would have earned more than the $22 difference in prices. The fact that there are still pen marks I couldn't remove.

And then. Then, there was this.

This is one of those "Find 3 things wrong with this picture" games. Can you find the three things that are missing from this picture?

Yes, that's right. Three LETTERS are missing from this alphabet! A, L, and M, if you must know.

I need a cookie.

She knows her parts!

2008-01-20T17:18:00.000-05:00

I think Sarina's been holding out on me.

There's this book, Your Baby Can Read! My First Words, a "slide & learn" book-- you slide the windows to see pictures of the words. Anyway, she's really into that book. She slides the windows across herself, and lately, she's been acting out the actions in the photos. For example, the word "hi," or "clapping," or "book." She waves at the girl who says hi, she claps along with the babies, and she does the sign for "book" when she sees the picture of the girl reading. It's been amazing, and again, all at once. She reacts to about 8 of the 30 photos so far.

So, we were looking through at some of the words she hadn't yet reacted to (like "eyes" and "ears"), and I said, "Where are Sarina's eyes?"

And she pointed to them. I almost fell over.

"Where are Sarina's ears?"

Duh, right here, Mommy.

Head? Check. Mouth? Got it.

She didn't react to "nose" right away, but then I asked where Mommy's nose was, and she pointed right to it.

You know what this means?

SHE KNOWS WHO MOMMY IS!

(Yes, leave it to me to find the selfish interpretation of this amazing event. But I was never sure if she knew "Mommy" was me before!)

This girl totally knows stuff. Stuff I had no idea she had already learned.

Also, she has two more bottom teeth, for a grand total of eight so far.

And I love her even more than ever.

P.S. For those in Canada, I've done two tapings for Celine Dion specials lately: one for the Star! network, and one for E! True Hollywood Stories. I think they're both to air in the spring or summer, but I'll give details when I find out. The E! one may also air in the U.S. and other countries later.

An End of a Superpower

2008-01-11T02:25:00.000-05:00

Well, I've pumped my last pump.

It took me three sessions just to get one bottle (and not even a full bottle, at that... five ounces), so I had some time to think about how I wanted that last bottle to go.

That's right-- we had "dinner by candlelight." Lullabies in the background, snuggled up on the glider. It was a fitting ending.

I had a very big sense of pride that I was able to provide for her for this long, and the truth is that I feel a strange sort of loss that it's over. I sure won't miss the pump, but there's been a loving feeling that goes along with feedings-- "Hey, I made that for you. Hope you like it!" My original goal was to make it to 6 months; my later goal was to make it to 12. I made it to 10 and a week.

Holy Potatoes, I Suck!

2008-01-11T00:36:00.000-05:00

I bit her! By accident!

See, remember a few posts ago, I told you she loves to share stuff now? Well, she reached out to offer me a bite of her delectable wheat teething biscuit. What I failed to detect was that, apparently, moments before my mouth made it over to accept said biscuit, she dropped it. So instead of sinking my teeth into a biscuit, I bit her fingers.

And what's worse is that I didn't realize it right away.

I bit harder because-- "darn, this biscuit is hard to bite through." And that's when she looked at me like, WHY, MOMMY, WHY? And cried. And I realized I had just nearly taken a chunk out of my wonderful child's tiny fingers. I bit the hand that fed me.

She forgave me quickly and even offered me another bite, but I can't help but think she's going to have a messed up psyche now, thinking that people who love you might turn on you at any second and attempt to bite your fingers off. I fear she will join a baby gang and get caught stealing Peach Puffs.

Make me feel better. Tell me about a "stupid parent" thing you've done.

Baby Loves Books

2008-01-08T16:32:00.001-05:00

I forgot to mention this yesterday: I'm quite pleased to announce that Sarina is in love with board books. Whereas earlier, she mostly just tried to eat them (I even had a much-repeated motto for her: "Books are for reading, not for eating!"), now she flips the pages, looks at the pictures, touches the touchy spots, and listens while I read. It's the coolest.

Every day, several times a day, she goes over to her bookshelf and takes all the books down (yes, cleaning up after her is a bit tiresome). She finds one or two to focus on, then we read them. Her favorites are Don't Be So Nosy, Posy and Rainbow Rob. I'm glad, because honestly, I don't "get" some of the more popular ones-- like I Love You, Little One: "I love you as the river loves you," it says, and I want to scream, "No! The river is an inanimate object! It has no capacity for love. I love you waaay more than the river loves you!" And each "I love you as the ___ loves you" is so repetitive in meaning: giving you food, giving you shelter, giving you water. No, these are not the proofs of love. Giving an infant food and shelter is just a responsibility. It's the time you spend building towers so she can knock them down that shows you love her. No river is gonna do that!

*Cough.* Sorry.

Steps Away from the Finish Line

2008-01-08T02:09:00.001-05:00

and I'm stalled again. Here I am, over word count, at the end of the Marilyn Monroe book, and I've been stuck for two days trying to think of an ending. I've already written about her death. Now how to close it? Everything I can think of seems too obvious and anticlimactic. "Lookit, all these years later, she's still such a legend... her legacy lives on... blah blah."

Other biographers have wound it up with a really good quote or anecdote, which is what I'd like to do, but I don't have one that seems fitting as an ending.

She's been in my dreams nearly every night. It's interesting... I don't remember ever dreaming so much about a book subject before. I think it's because I keep going to bed with my own little conversation with her in my head-- I ask her how she'd want me to write this book, what the truth is, how she'd want to be remembered. I guess it's sort of a prayer.

Anyway.

Here is the shot I caught of Sarina walking yesterday:

And a pic of her after I blow-dried her hair... I didn't mean for it to be so bouffant, but it's also kind of neat that it's now long enough to be so bouffant!

It's actually turning curly, but I keep brushing it straighter because the curls stick up funny at this length, especially after naps!

That's Teething Bling she's chewing on... she's mighty fond of it.

To Sleep, Perchance to Sink into Squishiness

2008-01-06T03:47:00.001-05:00

There are certain things in life that, once you've had the "good stuff," you can't go back to the regular stuff. I have just discovered that this is true of smooshy mattresses. Toward the end of my pregnancy, when I couldn't get comfortable, my mom gave me one of those squishy memory foam mattress toppers. The other day, I pulled it off the bed with the intention of cleaning it (before I was stymied by the actual process-- how exactly do you wash queen-sized memory foam? With soap and a hose in the backyard in the summer, maybe, but in the winter? I'm stumped). Anyway, it's still off the bed, and I'm miserable. How did I not know that I was sleeping on a pile of bricks before? For roughly 7 years?

Oh, and I did finally buy Sarina that tutu, after all. It arrived on Christmas Eve! I even wrote to the post office to thank them for such amazing delivery-- it arrived overnight, even though it was sent Priority Mail. I had no hope of receiving it before Christmas.

She took about six steps today, twice. It was so exciting! She doesn't walk-- she runs. She stood there looking like she was getting herself all pumped up for something, then... runrunrunrun, kerplop!

New Sarina pics

2007-12-23T01:39:00.001-05:00

Mmm! This is the best teething biscuit I've ever had.

I got my hair bow from Mama's Girls Bows over here.

I got my flower clip from Bow Baby Bow over here.

Today, Santa Claus was in my very own house. I wasn't quite sure what to make of him, but he turned out to be pretty cool. He gave me peach puffs.

I love standing. I thought sitting was cool, but man, standing is so awesome. You should try it.

When she shares

2007-12-18T02:25:00.000-05:00

Sarina is learning things at an astonishing rate right now-- I feel like she's in the middle of another of these "milestone madness" weeks. Among other things, she is now calling the cat "ca." She doesn't yet know that I'm "mama" (she uses the word "mama" all the time, but doesn't associate it particularly with me), but she knows the cat. You know what's funny? I totally predicted that. She's so in love with my cat. I guessed a while back that her first real word would be "cat," (or "kitty," which is what I usually call her).

The beautiful thing, though, is that she's learned to share. She will feed her mommy one of her peach puffs, or share her gummed-up biscuit with me. I never would have thought that I would have accepted a half-eaten teething biscuit from another human being, but you know? When it's your baby, it's just not gross. It's beautiful. Last night, we took turns. She fed me one bite (and cracked up), then took a bite herself, and so on. It was the greatest.

And because I clearly have the greatest little person on the planet, it did not seem at all unreasonable that I managed to spend the better portion of two days searching online for just the RIGHT tutu to buy her for Christmas. I still haven't found it. I've been all over Etsy and eBay, and I'm hopeful that I might have found a woman who can custom-make one for us in just the look I like (classic light pink, nice and full, mid-length). I think it's entirely possible that I will die of cuteness overload when I see her in one. I also don't yet have a Christmas stocking for her (and I want a gorgeous personalized one), so if anyone has suggestions, please post 'em!

Diaper changes are getting tougher and tougher-- she will NOT lie down, and works up a pretty good fit now when she wants to-- so I've finally learned a trick. She loves her sign language DVDs, so I now move the changing pad into the living room in front of the TV and turn on the DVD when she's being really rough. It's as if I've just given her a tranquilizer. She lies there TOTALLY COMPLACENT, totally calm, for as long as that DVD is on. I could go visit with a neighbor and not even worry that she'd move from that changing pad (shush! I wouldn't!). That was my mom's idea when I called to say that the poop was just going to have to stay in Sarina's diaper forever, because I couldn't fathom a way to change her short of something involving a lot of rope and chewing gum.

This little girl has me sooo wrapped around her little finger. Even when it's covered in mashed peas.

Me and My Girl (and Marilyn)

2007-12-10T02:08:00.000-05:00

I'm hoping and hoping to finish the Marilyn Monroe first draft before Christmas. I'm not sure if it's possible yet, but I'm going to try.

I've interviewed a number of people for it, but am still trying hard for several others. Did you know Gina Lollobrigida and Marilyn were good friends? I'm trying to reach her, and Eli Wallach, and her singing coach, and... well, about 50 others who haven't yet answered me. Time is getting tight. I have enough material already, but it would add a lot to the book if I could speak to people who don't ordinarily speak about Marilyn. I'm aiming to get interesting little anecdotes from people who met her along the way somewhere, even in very limited capacities. (Psst, know anyone who knew Marilyn Monroe? I'll be your BFF.)

I'm so distractable about the actual writing, though. Every night, I tell myself I'll do nothing but write, but I have irresistible impulses to do stupid things online. Like, does eBay have any new finger puppets today? (I already bought Sarina the Wizard of Oz set for Christmas. How many finger puppets does one baby need?)

I wasn't always like this. But I'm still getting my work done. It just means I'm staying up until a million o'clock. I don't really kick into gear until 2 a.m., so to work for a few hours means I'm really messing up my sleep hours. I sure hope I get this figured out before Sarina's in kindergarten. I may have to really cut myself off from all my online time-wasters.

A bit like Pebbles

2007-12-01T02:58:00.000-05:00

Thank you to Chesapeake Ribbons for the lovely hair bow!

The Best Game Ever

2007-11-17T15:27:00.000-05:00

We've discovered the best game ever. It goes like this:

1. Mommy sticks a pail on her head.
2. Mommy says, "Hey, Sarina, what do you think of my new hat? Isn't it a lovely hat? I sure hope nobody steals my hat."
3. Sarina steals the hat.
4. Mommy hollers, "Ohh! How did you do it? How did you steal Mommy's hat?"
5. Sarina screams laughing.
6. Repeat, endlessly.

We can do this for hours. It just never gets old.

Baba!

2007-11-16T17:52:00.000-05:00

She sure did. Her first word was "mama" during month 6. Last night, she started saying "baba." The adorableness of it is almost too much to bear. I awoke to the sounds of her practicing. "Ba... bama... maba... mbababababa!"