I’m back. Clearly. Friday the 13th feels like an ominous day to launch a new post, but it is what it is.

I find it difficult to get back into the swing of things after taking a break. It may be why I frequently don’t take breaks — because I know it will be so much harder to get started again afterward, and I’d rather not deal with this period where everything feels uphill both ways.

So, on that cheery note, what did you read that you loved these past two weeks?

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Stop procrastinating. Go make your backups. Don’t have regrets.

Seriously. Stop what you’re doing for a moment. It will take you fifteen minutes, tops. But you will have peace of mind for days and days. It’s the gift to yourself that keeps on giving.

As always, add any new thoughts to the Friday Backup post and peruse new comments to find out about methods, plug-ins, and devices that help you quickly back up your data and accounts.

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And now the blogs…

But first, second, helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week. To read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• None… sniff.

Okay, now my choices this week.

Infertile Phoenix is back with some updates, including an exchange with a friend where she explains she is 100% sure she is not going to have kids. She writes: “When I feel grief, I really feel it. I let myself. When I feel joy, I really feel that too. I allow it. My grief comes from the loss of my children; my joy comes from my continuing to live anyway.” Love this.

Lastly, not IF-related but I liked this post by Swistle about how the only people we don’t look like ourselves to is ourselves. Truly, it makes sense if you click over and read the whole thing. And this: “My sister-in-law and I were discussing how we’ve both recently even found ourselves doing some distressing Age Math. Like: how many more years can we reasonably expect to live, even if all goes extremely well—that kind of math.” There is a lot here that I think about, too.

The roundup to the Roundup: I’m back. Your weekly backup nudge. And lots of great posts to read. So what did you find this week? Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between August 30 – September 13) and not the blog’s main URL. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week. Read the original open thread post here.

Like last year, I am not writing my blog right now because I need to navigate the twins returning to college. I scheduled these posts so the blog wouldn’t be empty and I could have space to process my feelings. A cop-out, but forgive me. Having them go is really, really hard. I need mental space to feel what I am feeling, help the kids through the transition, and sit in the quiet for a moment on the other side.

This is a week that has been in my head for five years. We were told that by age five, the twins’ adjusted age should catch up with their actual age. Within five years, we wouldn’t see a difference between the Wolvog and ChickieNob and their full-term peers. Melissa of now says “bwaaaaah!” to that fact, noting that we still clap when they’re on the charts growth-wise at a doctor’s visit. They are small kids. You can tell they started out small and they’re still small. They are a very young five, developmentally. And that’s fine–I get babyhood that much longer. But the earnest Melissa of five years ago thought the whole world would look different on this date, when the two ages meshed and I thought prematurity would be chucked out the window.

Wasn’t that earnest Melissa so sweet? I just want to pinch her cheeks for a moment.

Read the whole post here.

Like last year, I am not writing my blog right now because I need to navigate the twins returning to college. I scheduled these posts so the blog wouldn’t be empty and I could have space to process my feelings. A cop-out, but forgive me. Having them go is really, really hard. I need mental space to feel what I am feeling, help the kids through the transition, and sit in the quiet for a moment on the other side.

I don’t even know how to begin this. I could take it back to the natural start, our cells, our DNA. I spent the earliest hours of the morning dreaming about brightly-coloured, twisted ladders.

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The first time I met Josh’s grandfather, I was sitting beside his chair and I remarked without thinking, “oh! You two have the same hands.” It made him so happy that I noticed, that I had picked up without prompting this trait that they shared. It meant something.

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I am waiting to make a left turn, an anxiety-inducing left turn across many lanes of traffic. As I wait, I can feel my lower teeth pressing against my upper lip. This is not my stress reliever. I crack my knuckles. This is a face I have seen my daughter make as she concentrates, a monster grimace, a nod to one thousand Halloween Frankensteins. I have co-opted the face that I love, the one that is so completely her own invention. It is traits moving backwards. Mannerisms on rewind.

Read the whole post here.

Like last year, I am not writing my blog right now because I need to navigate the twins returning to college. I scheduled these posts so the blog wouldn’t be empty and I could have space to process my feelings. A cop-out, but forgive me. Having them go is really, really hard. I need mental space to feel what I am feeling, help the kids through the transition, and sit in the quiet for a moment on the other side.

The Wolvog came to this awful realization during the first week of school — that this was it. That every year, it would start anew, but it would all repeat in a different formation. That from now until 18, he’s in school. And then he’s in college. Then he’s maybe in grad school. And then he’s in a daily job. But every year, at least until he’s 18, he will keep up with the race only to find himself back at the starting line every September.

When you see time stretching on ahead of you like that and how much you still have to get through, it’s overwhelming. And when you look backwards at how quickly time actually passes, it is equally overwhelming.

Read the whole post here.

Like last year, I am not writing my blog right now because I need to navigate the twins returning to college. I scheduled these posts so the blog wouldn’t be empty and I could have space to process my feelings. A cop-out, but forgive me. Having them go is really, really hard. I need mental space to feel what I am feeling, help the kids through the transition, and sit in the quiet for a moment on the other side.

This is how I came to wear a turkey cutlet on my boobs at the wedding last week.

A month or two ago, I called my cousin with a proposal. She likes to shop; I do not. I needed a floor-length black bridesmaid dress. She met me at the mall with my list of requirements. I had the dress instructions from the bride, a price range, and a request to make the shopping portion of the trip last under a half hour. She moved us through the mall like Michael Phelps in the 100 meter butterfly.

She whipped through a rack of dresses, yanking down two and thrusting them into my arms. She moved through the store, sniffing the air like a meerkat to identify a break in the clothing racks that led to the dressing rooms. I held up the first dress dubiously.

“Really?” I asked.

It was pretty much the most un-Melissa dress you could find. Sleeveless, backless, plunging neckline and black. But it fit.

“We only have 22 minutes,” she reminded me.

Read the whole post here.