The ChickieNob recently set up her first social media account because she wanted to participate in a hashtag contest with a photo she took while we were in France. She had been circling the decision to join social media for about six months, talking herself out of it immediately after talking herself into it and agonizing over a good handle. She finally set up the account, posted the picture, and then immediately told me she didn’t enjoy having an account.

It’s an interesting situation because while we (as in, adults) all once had nascent social media accounts, we usually did so in the infancy of the site and made up decisions as we went along, often changing our mind as new information came to light about privacy and data. For instance, I didn’t think about how I wanted to use Facebook until I was years into using Facebook, which has become a mishmash of friends and work and family, and has plenty of data bells I can’t unring.

But I didn’t set up my Instagram account until a year or so ago. I’ve never posted anything on it. I use it to see pictures shared by my siblings or their kids, and I follow a few tourism organization accounts of places I’ve either been or want to go.

I love opening up Instagram. I only get maybe 6 new pictures per day, so it’s completely manageable. I’m either looking at a space I love (or think I will love) or a person I love. I feel no pressure to accept friend requests––I won’t change my mind on this one––or share images––again, it won’t happen. It’s the first place I’ve mindfully started as I mean to go, so I love it.

ChickieNob took that advice––to set her own personal rules (though be consistent) and stick to them because it’s her space to interact with as she wishes––and followed a small number of accounts of places and organizations. She likes it a little more now, though, she also knows she is under no obligation to look at the account ever again.

It’s a strong argument for waiting until you know what you want and how you want to use it. It’s something I wish I had done before diving head-first into social media without an understanding of the various directions my usage could go.

I also thought this article had good advice on how to limit usage in a way that makes sense in your life vs. following someone else’s digital detox plan since they sometimes feel punitive more than restorative.

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

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I read an interesting thought experiment recently:

Imagine that you woke up one day to discover that you were the only person left living on Earth. With no one else around, you’d be able to go and live in any house you wanted – Buckingham Palace even. But would you want to? “You would probably find somewhere that was just comfortable and practical.” The same goes for your expensive clothes, fancy cars, or the latest technology. “When you really follow that thought through, it’s amazing how much we acquire and want only to impress other people.”

It really gave me pause because when I’ve coveted houses, it has been based on location and size, but if given the chance, I would take a Hobbit-house (in a cricket-free Shire) over a palace every single time. Peek inside Buckingham Palace if the earth was empty: sure. But I wouldn’t want to live there.

What do you think?

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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 read the greatest quote on Gretchen Rubin’s site this week, in an interview with Belinda Luscombe:

We don’t find soul mates, like some fantastic shell on the beach. We become them. And as we do, the other person becomes ours.

Isn’t that such a beautiful way of putting it? That it’s not something you’re finding, it’s something you’re building. Maybe it comes down to the fact that some people are worth building it with because they’re building it back with you, and some people just won’t be a good fit for the work.

So, yeah, I sometimes call Josh my b’shert––a Yiddish term for destiny or soul mate––but really, the universe stuck him in front of me. We did the hard work of building this life together.

For 11 years, I have diligently avoided reading The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. (1) I don’t like epistolary novels. (2) The title annoyed me. (3) The fact that everyone gushed about it made me feel like there was a veeeeeeery good chance that I wouldn’t enjoy it. (4) It contains 0% magic or monsters.

But… The ChickieNob and I were looking for something to watch, and I told her that we should try the first ten minutes of the Netflix movie to see the scenery in Guernsey. We were about to give up because it was taking so long to get to Guernsey (at that point, I didn’t know the movie was shot in North Devon, so we were not going to see Guernsey… ever) when she received that first letter from Dawsey.

And then. Oh my G-d. I loved the story so much. I would say, “Why didn’t you all tell me how much I would love The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society?” Because everyone said it. And I didn’t believe it. And now I’m going backwards to read the book because it is such a great story.

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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:

• “Being a Mom Is Kind of Awkward After Infertility” (RisaKerslake)
• “It’s All About Perspective” (Fighting Infertility)

Okay, now my choices this week.

I learned a new term from My Path to Mommyhood: Toxic positivity. She explains: “Nothing makes you feel lonelier than when you are honestly wondering what you did to warrant such utter horrible luck in every aspect of family building, if you can keep going, if people will understand if you CAN’T keep going… and you are faced with the following…” You’ll have to click over to read the list and understand, and I promise, it’s worth it so you don’t accidentally utter any of these in the name of positivity.

Raising the A Team has a post about setting a date (the next embryo freezing bill) for deciding on whether to try for a third child. She writes, “As a kid, I always expected to have two kids and it wasn’t until I met Laurie and we started planning our dream family that having 3 even occurred to me. But once I had it in my mind, it stuck there and now it’s grown into my plan.” Those thoughts are hard to shake out of your head, even when facing other facts. It’s an interesting take on the question.

By the Brooke explains the thoughts that went through her head after losing her baby: “In my weird grief mindset, having a baby shower was basically calling attention to your pregnancy and asking the universe to take it away.” Which takes her into the meat of the post. First of all, I love the title: “All the Luck in the Universe,” which she explains through a story that is just as good as The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society! A tale of two friends, two babies, and enormous love flowing between the families.

The roundup to the Roundup: Realizing that I love The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society after all.  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 July 19th and 26th) 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.

Usually when we have crusty bread with dinner, I slice the bread and put the pieces in a serving bowl that matches our plates. But one night last week, the twins were with my parents, and I cut up the bread and put the smaller amount in a glass soup bowl.

“That’s a tiny bowl of bread,” Josh pointed out.

“That’s what our bowl of bread is going to look like in four years,” I replied.

In four years, the twins will be in college, and we will be eating our meals again as a twosome. I don’t like to think about it, but we have to think about it because it’s the one piece of helpful advice other twin parents have given us to make the transition easier. It’s a big jolt to go from a full house to an empty nest all at once. Everyone has told us to have a plan in place before it happens so we don’t spend the first few months completely lost.

So far, we have thrown out a handful of hobbies that we plan to pick up over the next year or two so we have a few distractions in place. I’m looking into volunteer work, trying to get involved in new organizations now so I can step into a leadership position down the road. Josh and I have talked about going to the UK once a year, spending a few days seeing shows in London and then traveling out to a different area, such as the Channel Islands or Scotland, for another week.

I am scared of the glass bowl of bread; knowing that it will be an almost-every-night thing and not a one-off meal because the twins are doing something else. Maybe THAT is where I should be focusing my efforts; obtaining the most awesome bread bowl in the world so I don’t have to see the tiny glass bowl and think about how I’d rather be using the big one that matches our plates.