Posts from — March 2009

A few of these have children mentioned…

Perhaps someone works in a photo shop and explain this to me:

On Monday morning, I realized that I hadn’t printed out pictures of the Wolvog for a classroom project. I dropped the twins off at school and ran by the photo shop in town, intending to print them off a disc and then return to the school with the photographs. The store was closed–no problem. I’ll just go to the drugstore where they also have a print-while-you-wait machine. Except that it was broken.

I wait the 20 minutes in the cold outside the store, shivering without a coat (why don’t I have a coat? Because I’m an idiot; there, is that what you wanted me to say?). Finally, the store opens and I discover that their machine is broken as well.

Now anyone sane can get a whiff of crazy-woman-on-the-verge-of-tears as I ask what I should do considering that I need to drop off the pictures now and can’t pick them up later in the day as she suggests. I live in a small town and then next photo store is twenty minutes away. She shrugs her shoulders as I stand in her completely empty store and insists that it will take an hour to print out my three photos. It can’t be done while I wait. It will definitely take the full hour.

Seriously, are the non-instant machines that much different from the instant machines that they can’t print three pictures in under an hour? It doesn’t even take that amount of time to print three pictures in a dark room from film.

I didn’t time this Virtual Lushary to coincide with St. Patrick’s Day (which is generally celebrated in America with a lot of green beer) but since we’re here, can we turn to one of my favourite Irish traditions? The wake.

Apologies; I know that was sort of a buzz kill.

It’s not that Jewish funerals are so different–we use Shiva to reminiscence about the person. But today is St. Patrick’s Day–not Pesach–so we’re going to go with the Irish tradition of toasting the person after their death, remembering every good point about them.

I hate the idea of people saving their best words for when the person can’t hear them.

I know it is helpful for the mourners–after all, funerals are for those left behind, not those already dead. But I read something this week that really struck me. I was reading about the Hudson River plane crash in People (and I swear that I read more magazines than just People; it’s just that I find so much to quote in there) and it said, “she’s heard from friends who have been out of touch for 20 years. ‘It’s as if I went to my own funeral and didn’t have to die to go,’ she said. ‘There’s been such an outpouring of love’.”

No one should have to die to go to their own funeral. I can’t tell you how good it feels when someone writes a kind comment or simply tells me how LFCA has positively affected their day. You carry those words with you all day.

Therefore, I propose today, in addition to catching up everyone on your life, you take a moment to write something kind about another blogger. Why another blogger? Because they’re most likely to read it here vs. your Great Aunt Mildred who probably isn’t skulking around on blogs. And the point is to make sure that they know your words. I don’t want to call this a massive funeral for the non-dead because that just feels…wrong. But I think you all understand the sentiment.

Let the world know–very publicly–how much you appreciate the other person. Because that is part of the wake too–that the words are spoken in front of others. Please link to the other blogger in your comment or give the title of the blog so people can find them via the blogroll. And to make this clear, let’s all start with our compliment and then finish the comment with our own news. You may leave as many compliments to others as you wish. The more, obviously, the merrier.

Because isn’t there some saying that on St. Patrick’s Day, we’re all Irish?

As always, it has been about a month since we met, bitched, cried, comforted, and caught up each other on our cycles and lives. Pull up a seat and I’ll pour you a drink. Let everyone know what is happening in your life and a compliment for another blogger. The good, the bad, the ugly. My only request is that if a story catches your eye, you follow it back to the person’s blog and start reading their posts. Give some love, give some support, or laugh with someone until your drink comes out of your nose.

I have a ton of assvice in my back pocket and as a virtual bartender, I will give it to you unless you specifically tell me that this is simply a vent and you do not want to receive anything more than a hug.

So if you have been a lurker for a while (or if this is your first open bar as someone who found this space through IComLeavWe), sit down and tell us about yourself. Remember to provide a link or a way for people to continue reading your story (or if you don’t have a blog–gasp!–you can always leave an email address if you’re looking for advice or support. If not, people can leave messages for that person here in the comments section too). If you’re a regular at the bar, I’ll get out your engraved martini glass while you make yourself comfortable. And anyone new, welcome. I’m glad you found this virtual bar.

For those who have no clue what I’m talking about when I say that the bar is open, click here to catch up and then jump into the conversation back on this current post.

So have an imaginary cocktail and tell us what is up with your life.

This is the 35th installment of Barren Advice. You can ask questions that are fertility or non-fertility related.

Barren Advice is posted each Tuesday-ish. If you have your own question for Barren Advice, click here to learn how to submit. Please weigh in with your own thoughts in the comment section and indicate which question you’re addressing if there are multiple questions in the post.

Dear Mel:

For the past three plus years I have wisely insulated myself from the thoughtless comments of people who have never considered how they might feel if they were diagnosed with infertility by (a) being closeted except to other people who I know have dealt with fertility issues or otherwise “get it,” and (b) not bringing those issues up to anyone else. Until I went off half-cocked this morning and wrote a treatise about IVF and sent it to my entire email list because I was sick of hearing the ignorance propagated by the media in response to the octuplets issue (and put over the top by the Georgia bill).

From one acquaintance, someone who I was trying to befriend because our kids are the same age, I received the following response (excerpted, this is the pertinent part): “In my personal opinion (which is not, nor should be, a basis for law or how others live their life) I am not so keen on tampering with nature at all in this regard. I think that biology has a way of sorting out what’s best sometimes. In addition, there are children available for adoption. Some may think it’s easy for me to have this opinion because I have a kid, but I can honestly say that if I couldn’t get pregnant, I would have taken the hint and if I really wanted to experience parenthood I would have adopted. Again, that’s just me. I pass no judgment on others who choose a different course of action.”

Basically, this contains almost every sentiment that pierces the heart of an infertile like a thousand tiny shards of glass. It’s tantamount to saying that if you get cancer, you should just die rather than pursue treatment because it’s nature’s way of weeding out the weak. I know that these comments are based on ignorance, but I am horrified and dismayed to hear them from someone I otherwise like. I am supposed to have brunch with this person on Sunday and I don’t even want to go anymore.

I’m sure this question has been asked before, so forgive the repetition, but: How do I respond to these comments in such a way as to preserve the relationship, raise awareness about infertility, and frankly, convince my acquaintance that she is in error without making her feel like too much of an asshole? It seems like a delicate balance, and I’m typically a bull in a china shop with respect to these things.

—Star

It is really hard to work that many judgmental thoughts into a single response (and then mention at the end that you don’t stand in judgment of others). So I think first and foremost, you need to marvel at that.

Here is the difference between your two sets of words: I’m assuming your letter addressed how people should think about infertility and her response (as well as items such as the Georgia bill) address how people should act within infertility. Actions beget consequences, therefore, no one should be telling another person how to solve their problems as long as their solutions are not harmful to another person or themselves (for instance, I think we could all agree that if a person were trying to solve the stress of infertility by cutting themselves, we’d step in and try to help that person. But if the person was choosing to solve the stress of infertility by meditation, even if we think it is a bunch of crap, we’d say, “to each their own.”). She doesn’t need to live your life, she only needs to live her own.

This question actually hasn’t been asked before–at least not this type of situation where you need to see the speaker face-to-face. It is very different when a hurtful comment is left or you fall into disagreement with a faceless person over the Internet. There is a different investment unless you are also friends off-blog. But this is a person who you must socialize with, who has children that your children will play with, and may even overlap with other people you know in the face-to-face world.

I would still use the same three-tiered guide that I’ve spoke about before: start with a kind response (assuming that the person is speaking with kindness albeit thoughtlessness), move to a firm response (the aim of which is to cut off the topic entirely if they didn’t get it the first time around), and finally, the free-for-all. The free-for-all takes into account that some friendships may just not be possible, even if there are other traits that drew you to her. If you had a shared history already built, it’s easier to step back and agree to disagree. But depending on her response, you may be building your friendship on that agree to disagree ground, and that simply isn’t stable land for a friendship.

I, personally, wouldn’t befriend someone I just met who told me that they liked me but also thought all Jews were going to hell–regardless of how easy it would be to get together because our kids were in the same class. At the same time, I can tell you that I did have a friend in college who believed all Jews were going to hell. She only shared this belief with me once we were deep into our friendship and while this assertion sounds offensive taken out of context, it was explained to me in such a way that was palatable within our relationship. I would love to explain it, but it would take too long to explain here and truly, those who think I’m crazy to be friends with someone who thinks I’m going to hell won’t understand even if I type out her words. How this applies to you: we can’t judge friendships out of context and if she can explain her thoughts in a way that work for you, run with it.

My friend knew that it wasn’t cool to try to convert me and I knew that it wasn’t cool to not respect her belief in Christ. And we were able to move past this difference and keep the friendship because of where the information came in the continuum of our relationship. It wasn’t something she shared UNTIL she knew that we had a close friendship (in other words, she knew how she felt about Jews prior to the friendship deepening) and she wanted me to understand something that was really important to her. And I can respect that–my friends do not need to be a mirror-image of me and her viewpoint really strengthened my own commitment to Judaism. Her words were not about forcing her viewpoint on me; it was about her concern for me as her friend. And that is the major difference and how a friend can drop a bomb-of-a-thought on y
ou and still be standing after the wreckage has cleared. This woman didn’t share her thoughts out of concern for you, but out of a love of hearing her own thoughts.

So says the advice columnist…

But, hey, you asked.

If you want to repair the friendship (and frankly, I could still be friends with someone who holds these views, but that’s just me), I would respond and begin with kind. You could also not respond at all; not every email needs a response and responding is not always the healthiest option. But in this case, I think you’ll carry it with you unless you put it to rest. So kind: It’s great that we live in a world where everyone can make their own decisions and you’re really happy with your decision to pursue fertility treatments.

I’d aim for breezy and confident–you’re still sticking to your guns, but you’re not angry, which allows the other person to save face. Hopefully the topic won’t come up again–I think you made it pretty clear from your response. But sometimes it does; the person still needs to make sure that you know just where they stand on fertility treatments. And then you move to firm, making sure you smile as you either say the words or write them: Tell her that you hear her thoughts but they obviously don’t mesh with your own which you stated in your email so maybe it would be best to not talk about infertility. But you’d love to get the kids together for a playdate.

Finally, the free-for-all. I have to tell you, if she is still bringing up the topic and she doesn’t have a vested interest in the topic (for instance, I can see someone who ended up in the hospital with OHSS wanting to make sure you know all the dangers. But it sounds like she just has an opinion on this topic like every other Dick and Jane…no commentary on the fact that these names are Dick…or Aunt Jane), I think she either can’t pick up on social cues or she truly doesn’t have your best interests at heart. And personally, that’s when I’d cut her loose. You can still see her in the context of other mutual friends, but that’s when I put the stiff arm up and hold her at a distance. Without that shared history, a new friend who requires this much negotiating isn’t worth the friendship.

No really, the beauty of a blog advice column is that you get to weigh in with your two cents too. Let the questioner know if you support the advice, add to the response, or dispute it completely.

Leave a comment in the reaction box below–only keep in mind that conflicting advice is embraced and rudeness is not. Want to ask your own question? Click here to see what you need to send in order to be included in a future Tuesday’s installment of Barren Advice.

Show and Tell is wasted on elementary schoolers. Join several dozen bloggers weekly to show off an item, tell a story, and get the attention of the class. In other words, this is Show and Tell 2.0. Everyone is welcome to join, even if you have never posted before and just found out about Show and Tell for the first time today. So yank out a photo of the worst bridesmaid’s dress you ever wore and tell us the story; show off the homemade soup you cooked last night; or tell us all about the scarf you made for your first knitting project. Details on how to participate are located at the bottom of this post.

Let’s begin. Children are mentioned in this post in case you want to skip down to Mr. Linky and add your own without reading mine.

On Wednesday afternoon, we decided to go house camping. We packed our backpacks with all necessary items (though only I was allowed to carry matches) including a tent, and then marched through the house, pretending each piece of furniture was a bit of nature. We finally found a clearing to pitch our tent and set up camp in the living room. Exhausted from our hike and tent pitching, we all collapsed in the tent and talked about what we wanted to do on our trip.

I was elected to prepare dinner since I am the only one in our camping party allowed to light matches or work the microwave. I made mud juice and sticks (fine, chocolate milk and pretzels) along with soy-dogs and carrots. After dinner, I took a candle out from my pack and we toasted marshmallows over the flame.

I know you’re probably sitting there thinking, “I never knew you could do that.” I only know that it’s possible because of a synchronized eating routine I choreographed for the Olympics at my old middle school where part of our routine included making smores in unison.

Marshmallows burned over a candle cannot be healthy for you–I mean, the blackened exterior should be the first heads up that something is not quite right. But they taste exactly the same as they do when they’re created outside. So…I’m going under the assumption that doing it one or two times a year can’t kill you.

We finished off the evening by climbing the stair mountain, swimming in the bathtub stream, and hatching those sponge capsules in the shape of insects. And that’s how we do camping.

What are you showing today?

Click here or scroll down to the bottom of this post if this is your first time joining along (hint: link to the permalink for the post, not the main url for your blog and use your blog’s name, not your name). The list is open from now until late Tuesday night and a new one is posted every week.

Scene: Melissa is running a bath for the Wolvog and ChickieNob. Lindsay holds Baby Fred and we’re talking over the roar of the faucet.

Wolvog: (looking up at Lindsay and Fred) When can we get another baby? Can we get another baby now?

Melissa: Sweetie, remember how I told you that some people can have a baby quickly and some people need help? And sometimes it takes the doctors a long time to figure out how to get the baby in the belly? And sometimes it doesn’t work at all? And…

Wolvog: The babies in here (he points to the dresser in the next room where I have placed the sponge capsules). Those babies. That’s what I call my babies…my little baby sponges. Can we get one tonight?

Lapped by a bathtub. Literally.