Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

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I just learned the greatest term: Contronym! They are words that are their own opposite. For example, “cleave,” which can mean both split apart or cling to.

Mental Floss rounded up a long list of contronyms, but beyond that, they also rounded up a list of synonyms for contronyms: “auto-antonym, antagonym, enantiodrome, self-antonym, antilogy and Janus word.”

This was my fun find for the week. What have you found on the internet?

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Are you also doing #MicroblogMondays? Add your link below. The list will be open until Tuesday morning. Link to the post itself, not your blog URL. (Don’t know what that means? Please read the three rules on this post to understand the difference between a permalink to a post and a blog’s main URL.) Only personal blogs can be added to the list. I will remove any posts that are connected to businesses or are sponsored post.

I stumbled upon the best advice post I’ve read in a long time. (And that’s saying a lot because you know that I’m a Carolyn Hax superfan.) The advice came from Seun Adebiyi, an Olympian and cancer survivor, who kicked off his list with this nugget:

“Never confuse who you are with what you do.”

He explains the danger of tying self-worth to accomplishments. Think about where you are drawing your self-esteem. And then ask yourself if it’s who you are (a good listener) or what you do (get straight As). So simple. So smart.

And this: “Fortify your village, then build a moat.” We sort of forget to mention that part when we talk about gathering people around you. Of course people need other people to get through life, but we also need to know how to shut out people from time to time and build those ever-important boundaries. We teach kids how to make friends (sort of), but I think we also need to teach them how to build that moat if there are toxic people around them.

What do you think of his thoughts?

It was Linus’s third birthday this week.

We took glamour shots to mark the occasion. That’s when we put him on a white backdrop and snap hundreds of photos while he stares at us with a hopeful expression, sometimes sniffing the camera to see if it’s an alfalfa cookie.

Linus at three is very similar to Linus at two. He has learned how to use his nose to push open the side door to his cage if we unlock it. He still begs for a Cheerio any time I pour myself a bowl. He loves any kind of lettuce and apples. He dislikes celery and kale unless it is slightly wilted. He still hates nail clippings and loves having his back stroked.

Happy birthday, Linus!

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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 in order 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. In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• “Life After Infertility: One Decade, Many Thoughts” (Silent Sorority)
• “5 Years Ago & Now” (Infertile Phoenix)

Okay, now my choices this week.

No Kidding in NZ looks back on her blogging year, which also gives her insight into what was on her mind during the last 365 days. She writes, “Sixty times last year, I thought about writing about not having children, I thought about the positives and negatives of my situation, and I thought about what you might want or need to hear about. Sixty times I reminded myself to be honest.” It’s a great look back on a year.

Whereas Infertile Phoenix takes a longer look back at the scope of five years. By looking at the same day, five years apart, she tells the story of change. From first embryo transfer to first day of a new job, it’s about how our experiences shape us.

Finally, Lavender Luz asks an important question: It’s 2020. Why do we struggle when it comes to telling kids about adoption? We’re entering the fourth decade of more openness in adoption, yet she explains: “A few times a month, someone will ask in a social media adoption group WHEN is the best time to tell their child they were adopted. And WHEN to disclose information about that child’s birth family.” When is now; as in, from birth, even before a child understands so they always have access to their own story. It’s a great post, full of resources for talking about adoption.

The roundup to the Roundup: Happy third birthday, Linus. 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 January 3rd and January 10th) 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.

Carolyn Hax recently had divorce advice which also applied to infertility. A woman is in the middle of the grieving process after a divorce, but she’s terrified that she will still be angry 20 years down the road plus she is annoyed whenever people tell her that she’ll find someone else. She doesn’t want to focus on someone else; she wants to focus on the situation in front of her: the divorce.

Hax points out that “The sense that you were treated horrendously can give way to the excitement at the promise of Life II: The Sequel without his selfish self as a co-star. Or just the promise of having any weird thing for dinner without having to factor him in. It’s okay to start really, really small.”

Okay, so clearly divorce-focused, but I started thinking about how much of my initial anger with infertility was tied to a feeling that my body (or the universe or whatever I was promised would happen when we tried building a family) was treating me horrendously.

Hax continues:

You can see either a life plan wrecked behind you, or do-over opportunity ahead of you — into which you build any joy you can. Even the idea or intention of joy, before you’re actually able to feel it, will help shift your center from regretful-then to hopeful-now. After you sort through the grief, of course; it’s normal and healthy to be as mad as you want to be.

A life plan wrecked or a Plan B formed. It’s just a tiny shift in thinking. Something comes next; not everyone gets that next moment, that next day, that next stage of life. So how do you look forward into it? You can either look backward at that old life plan, or (once you are ready) start charting out the new life.

Here’s to paths forward.

Remember last year when we surprised the ChickieNob on her floating birthday with a trip to see the costumes from The Crown? We did it again over winter break, this time with the set of Downton Abbey.

We told the kids we were finally seeing Foamhenge––an inexplicable, long-running desire––which isn’t even open in January. It took them about an hour past Centreville to comment that Centreville certainly was huge, at which point we queued up the opening music from Downton Abbey and announced we were going to Asheville to see the exhibit at the Biltmore.

This sounded like a fantastic idea when we first made the plans. Sure, Asheville is a little far from DC (about eight hours), but I was so pumped to see Mrs. Patmore’s kitchen that I thought the hours would just fly by.

That isn’t what happened.

It wasn’t that the ride was too long. I mean, it was too long, but that wasn’t my real problem. It was that we were going through the mountains, and I thought I was going to have a heart attack as we twisted up and down the Blue Ridge hills. By the time we got to Asheville, I was completely wrung out from holding my body in the same rigid position for six hours.

It was like that time when I freaked out on the mail boat to Smith Island because I realized I was stuck on the bumpy ride for 40 minutes. Once I realized I couldn’t drive the mountain roads, we were deep in the heart of the mountain roads. Which meant more mountain roads, even if we turned around. Which we didn’t want to do because we had Biltmore tickets.

The end of the story is that we made it to Asheville, we made it to the Biltmore, and we made it to the Downton Abbey exhibit, which made me cry at least five times. Especially the moment when I turned a corner and was facing the back stairs with the servants’ hall to the right.

After the exhibit, we toured the rest of the Biltmore, which is an obscene display of wealth…

…but also very pretty.

And then we had the trip back; a different route up the coast so we could avoid a bulk (but not all) of the mountains. The Wolvog already knows the date and activity for his special day because we needed his help to purchase tickets correctly. (“Surely, son, it doesn’t mean that we’re stuck in this e-sports arena for twelve hours. Oh wait, it does?”) So one floating birthday down and another floating birthday to go.