Let’s just get this over with.  You’re wondering if I’m going to read Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom.  I can hear you thinking it across the Internet; it will, after all, fragment our society yet again in the same way that there were the Titanic-watchers and the non-Titantic-watchers (who later also divided into the Avatar-watchers and the non-Avatar-watchers).  So, fine, yes, I’ll put you out of your misery so you can know which side of the line I’m going to fall; are we friend or literary foe.

I am going to read Franzen’s book.

But I’m going to wait until it comes to the used bookstore because I’m cheap (sorry, Mr. Franzen).

*******

Many years ago, my pediatrician said as the punchline to another comment, “But Melissa is the size of a 10-year-old boy!”  This idea has stuck with me; so much so that while in a store, purchasing the Wolvog’s winter wardrobe of vintage Star Wars t-shirts, I wondered if I could fit into one of the larger sizes.  The boy’s department sign said that it carried clothes for kids ages 5–11 (I’m assuming this is because boys who are in middle school don’t want pyjamas with woodchucks on them saying, “Little Rascal!”)

So I went back into the dressing room and low-and-behold, though Batman’s symbol stretched suggestively across my enormous boobs, I could fit into a large children’s t-shirt.

Which opened a whole new world of clothing opportunities.  Did I want a pyjama top with a woodchuck that says, “Little Rascal?”  Well, no, I didn’t.  But I certainly wanted a vintage Star Wars t-shirt and a Superman one.

I tried them on for the kids when I got home and promised them that I’d only answer to the name “Bat Mum” from now on.

********

Now that I have answered that I am reading Freedom and I am the size of a 10-year-old boy, I’m certain there is very little else you’d want to know.  But ask away if you have any other burning questions and I’ll answer them in a future post.

An ex-boyfriend, who shall remain nameless, once told me that my entire problem was that I had expectations.  If I could get rid of all expectations, I could lead a happy life because I would be able to simply accept all that came my way (a case in point in his favour: Dreaming of Quiet Places and the Case of the Raise).

Which isn’t true, you know, I mean, if I wasn’t expecting someone to smack me and then someone gut punched me, it wouldn’t hurt less.  “Accept” is the sticking point of his advice.

There was a story in the Washington Post last week about two sharks found in the Potomac River.  And after the nervous laughter subsided, after we had gazed at photographs of the eight-foot-long shark’s enormously sharp teeth, I felt completely out of sorts.  Sharks in a river?  Who would ever expect a shark in a river?  A shark in an ocean, yes.  I mean, I’d still be in shock if I ever saw a shark swimming by me in Chincoteague, but at least it would be within the frame of where I expected to see sharks.

Googling opened up a whole new world of fears.  We have long searched for Chessie as we cross the Bay Bridge, but had never realized that there were 12 species of shark in the waters below.  Or rays.  Rays that have “the ability to fly out of the water to a height of 30 feet and soar an additional 100 feet due to its areodynamic shape.”

I am imagining my blissful face, scanning the water as we boat out to Smith Island next summer, being thwacked unconscious by a cow-nosed ray sailing that 100 feet straight into my head.

See, it’s good to have expectations.  Now I won’t be surprised when I’m knocked unconscious by a sting ray.

On a more serious note, the events at the Discover Building were equally unsettling, both in light of the incident itself and its awful reminder.  We have certain expectations as we go to work, certain expectations as we go through our day.  And then something like this happens and we are terrified by how many strange dangers we never stopped to consider lurk in the most benign of places.  It is hard not to start looking at your day as a minefield; to keep statistics in mind and realize that you can’t control everything.

I think the reason the HSG hurt so badly was because I didn’t know how I ended up on that radiologist’s table.  I mean, yes, I rationally knew that I made the appointment and got myself to her office, but I didn’t know how life had strayed so far from my expectations.  My eighth grade sex ed teacher told us that all we had to do was consider for one second not putting on a condom (yes, the universe punishes kids for hesitation) and we would be PREGNANT!  A TEENAGER AND PREGNANT!  WITH A SCREAMING, CRYING BABY BECAUSE WE WERE PREGNANT!

So you can imagine how unsettling it is to use birth control for years and come to realize in adulthood that birth control was perhaps … unnecessary.  It’s just unexpected.  You put part A into slot B and you expect to end up with a live child in nine months or so.

When that doesn’t happen, you end up on the radiologist’s table, wondering how things could have strayed so far from expectations, and you are thrust into this world where you see numerous possibilities, numerous dangers, who had never stopped to consider prior to reading about them on the Web, hearing about them in the waiting room of the clinic.

It is a scary thing when that door creaks open, when you glimpse the other possibilities, the expectations you hadn’t … expected.

I have a friend who always comes at the right time.

She lives in Atlanta where she works to ensure that — around the world — women don’t die in childbirth.  Doesn’t she already sound like an amazing person, just based on that small sliver of information?  She protects women’s lives.

She is physically very beautiful, but she also has this gorgeous and quiet personality.  She is very smart — both in the grand sense of the word, and in self-knowledge.  She is funny and self-effacing and has this tiny Southern lilt in her voice.  And she has this habit of always coming at the right time.

This trip to D.C. was for a wedding and a birthday party and a general vacation, coming off a trip to Nepal, where she was … you know … just saving women’s lives.  And during the week that is emotionally tumultuous, where I feel like I’m made out of plastic on the outside and glass on the inside, she was the perfect person to meet for lunch and tea (oh! and I get to reorganize her computer this weekend.  There is nothing that gets me wetter than the idea of creating new online filing systems!)

It doesn’t matter how much time has passed since we’ve last seen each other — we can jump right back to where we were before.  So we unpacked our lives, and from my end, it was all of the obvious things you’d think I’d cover from this week, and then also, we paused on the topic of jealousy.

A pair of old friends gave birth this week and I am so jealous of their new son.  It’s not even my normal jealousy where they can easily have a child (they were only married a few months when they conceived), but simply the fact that they have all this time in front of them.  They are at the start of the path, and I am deep on the path — in the tall grasses that are difficult to navigate.  And I want to be back at the start of the path again with the twins.  It’s not even wanting another baby.  It’s simply being jealous of other people’s time.  I am thrilled for them — they should only have happiness and warm cuddles — but I am so jealous of the time that’s on their side right now.

I revisited an old post I wrote about jealousy many years ago (for the love, is this blog really that old?):

Anyway, the paragraph in Lamott’s essay that helped me tonight falls close to the end when Anne is setting out the pieces of the puzzle that helped her rein in her jealousy when a fellow writer was calling her daily to tell her about her literary success while Anne seethed on the other end of the phone.

…My friend Judy said that the problem was trying to stop the jealousy and competitiveness, and that the main thing was not to let it fuel my self-loathing. She said it was nuts for me to try to be happy for this other writer. I cannot tell you how much this helped. I was raised in a culture that promotes this competitiveness, this insatiability, this fantasy of needing hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, and then, in the next breath, shames you for any feelings of longing or envy or fear that it will always be someone else’s turn. I was only doing what I had been groomed to do.

I think that first line–the idea of stopping the jealousy–spoke to me. I’m not a fan of this idea that we need to be happy 100% of the time. We were given this enormous palette of emotions for a reason. I don’t think it’s our job to always try to realign towards happiness. I think it’s okay to remain for a while in sadness and explore it as long as we don’t allow ourselves to inadvertently board up all the exits out of the emotion.

There is a part of me that recognizes that these are all emotions I just have to feel.  To tell myself not to feel them is only to push myself deeper into self-loathing because I feel so small being jealous of something that is outside of their control.  They are probably jealous that I’m farther along and actually know my childrens’ personalities rather than holding a lump of warm baby.  Don’t we all want what other people have?

And then there is a part of me that still feels as if I need to admit this to my friend, to spill out to her that I am so hopelessly jealous of that time.  That needs to admit this to you in order to absolve myself of this jealousy.

Damn … this really wasn’t where I saw this opening going.  I just wanted to virtually introduce you to my friend.  Who is really this lovely, wonderful person.  Did I mention that she saves women’s lives?

*******

Rather Than a Weekly What If: When was the last time you felt jealous and what was it about?

*******

And now, the blogs …

Serenity Now has a post about how hard she is on herself and how she is learning to let go.  She admits, “I put so much fucking pressure on myself. To be a better person, a better friend, a better parent. To manage this life I’ve got; to make sure the dishes are done, the house is clean, O is fed and bathed and happy. To run a half marathon in under 2 hours. To please my boss and do an amazing job at work.” It’s a beautiful post about finding peace with the idea of not reaching goals.  And yes, I think it’s a damn important read.

Finding a Family has a post about being with her family.  She writes, “being with family always reminds us how important it is to build a family of our own.” I love this post because — unlike me — she is able to find that place where she can set aside her jealousy and simply feel enormous happiness for another person.  And I want to learn that.

Reproductive Jeans has a new project called Thoughtful Tuesdays.  She says, “Each Tuesday, I’m going to tell you about something I am either: a) thankful for, b) something I witnessed that was an act of kindness, or c) something I did to ‘pay it forward‘.”  I expect nothing less from the lady who brought the world the Braces Bunch.

Lastly, Getting There has a post about the public’s reaction to a government minister’s public admittance of their infertility.  When the public sputters, “too much information!” in regards to discussion on miscarriage, Getting There responds that this is exactly the type of information that people need to hear; that we need more people giving too much information.  She says, “And I’d love to think that we could stop people thinking that they are alone; that there are many, many people out there who have been through what they are going through.”

The roundup to the Roundup: I am a jealous person, but my friend is lovely.  When was the last time you felt jealous and why?  And lots of great posts to read.

I followed a thread yesterday on Twitter about whether or not to call teachers by their first names.  I’m a firm believer in first names for everyone — kids and adults alike, with the exception to that rule being “call the person what they wish to be called.”

When I was a teacher, I went by my first name because I believed that it sent the message to the students that I saw us as equal partners in their education.  I was there to guide them towards knowledge, but it was their job to pick it up.  Which didn’t mean that we were best buddies and on equal ground in all facets of life.  But in the role we played in each other’s world — student and teacher — we needed to be working together towards a common goal, rather than me pushing them along, or dragging them, or forcing them to learn 5-part essay format (for the love of G-d, could they please just learn the fucking essay format?)

And that meant first names unless we were both going to go by last names.

With the twins, we’ve always used the adult’s first name unless we’ve been specifically asked to use the person’s last name (for instance, if the person introduced themselves as Dr. So-and-So, we call them Dr. So-and-So.  If there is no introduction, we go with the first name).  We’ve also taught them to show respect to all people, but especially to show different types of respect to different types of ages.  Not that one age receives more or less respect, but instead, we concentrate on different types of respect for peers, adults, and super-adults (great-grandparents, for instance, or the lovely old ladies who walk slowly through the food store).

Did you call your teachers by their first names?  Would you want to?  Where do you stand on the first name/last name issue?

*******

We survived the first day of kindergarten.

They were excited to get to the building, but when we walked up to the door for drop-off, the Wolvog became wide-eyed and quiet, saying goodbye to us in a daze while he allowed himself to be led inside.  The ChickieNob burst into tears and screamed, “I’m scared!  I’m overwhelmed!  I’m overwhelmed!” and begged us not to make her go to kindergarten because “there are too many kids!  Too much noise!”  But she too allowed herself to be led inside.

I walked back to the car with Josh and drove home in tears, and once he left for work, cried like an animal.  I sat on the sofa and did one of those screaming cries, not caring if the neighbours heard.  I literally felt as if my skin was being yanked inside out, with all my organs spilling to the floor and rolling away to the far-reaches of the room.

And after I was done crying that animalistic cry, I moved to just lightly crying while I boxed up hundreds of books to donate, and cleaned the front hallway, and Googled how to fix my dishwasher, and emailed Josh about how I wanted to take apart the dishwasher when he came home that night, and started trying to take it apart without him because I felt as if he might give me some resistance to this idea.

I baked cinnamon challah for the Wolvog’s breakfast.  I baked nutella cookies.  I looked through what little I wrote in their baby books and promised I would take the time to backpedal and fill them out.  I looked at beach pictures.  I went to the food store and the drugstore.  I looked at the clock and realized I still had four more hours to go until pick up.

It was a long day.

I got to the school 20 minutes early for pick up and sweated inside my car rather than be the first one at the door and admit how desperate I was to get my kids back.  They left the room excitedly chirping about their day and the new kids they played with.  And all was well.

Until nighttime came and I realized yet again (because this realization comes at me in waves) that we no longer had our days to ourselves.  That our days belonged to the school — at least until next summer.  Every time I realize this, it fills me with the same grief I felt the first time I realized it.  Some things, perhaps, don’t lessen with time.  Such as … well … waves.  Even if 20 have smacked you down, it doesn’t mean the 21st is any gentler.

Being the stupidest parents in the world, we took the kids to the beach the weekend before school began.  We played mini-golf and lazed about on the sand and jumped in the water and gazed at wild horses and picked up whelks and ate ice cream every night.  We got home an hour or two before bedtime, about 14 hours before the first day of school.  Josh and I commented on how there was literally no traffic on the Bay Bridge in either direction, and we reasoned that most intelligent parents wouldn’t throw their kids in the car and drive to the beach right before the first day of school.

But we all needed the distraction.

As I drove home from the second day of drop-off, still crying and my heart hurting, I was both thankful and regretful that we had that beach time.  The thankful part is easy to understand.  The regretful part is that if I hadn’t tasted such happiness right before letting them go, it perhaps wouldn’t be such a contrast.

Who am I kidding?  There wasn’t any way to set up a scenario where I would be okay seeing them go.

*******

I got my period on the first day of kindergarten.  It was 21 days — yes, my norm — but I was still surprised when the cramps came mid-day and I saw blood in the bathroom.  It was like a sign from the universe, delivered like the Soup Nazi, “no kids for you!”

They’re my firsts.  They are also most likely my lasts.  And that is the strange thing about having twins, you have double, but you only get to go through each stage once.  So everything is a first.  And a last.

Welcome back to IComLeavWe. It stands for International Comment Leaving Week, but if you say it aloud, doesn’t it sounds like “I come; [but] leave [as a] we”? And that’s sort of the point. Blogging is a conversation and comments should be honoured and encouraged. I like to say that comments are the new hug–a way of saying hello, giving comfort, leaving congratulations.

Here is the vital information, pure and simple (a more detailed set of rules follows below the list):

• The list opens the 1st of every month. It remains open until the 21st. You can add yourself at any point. The list is open to everyone in the blogosphere–blog writers and/or blog readers.
• Add yourself to the list by filling out this form: the list is now closed.  The list for October will open on 9/30.
• Click here to cut-and-paste this bit of code to add to your sidebar (if you have the old code from another month, remove it and replace it with this one). You need to add the icon or a link to the current list on your blog (see below) and will not be added until it’s up.
• Commenting kicks off every month on the 21st. Please mark it somewhere (calendar, post-it note taped to your computer…), though I will be sending out an email reminder on the 20th. Commenting week runs from the 21st to the 28th. Every day, leave 5 comments and return 1 comment for a total of 6 comments. You are highly encouraged to choose the blogs you comment on from the participants list below, but this is not required.
• I will send a second email on the 28th to remind you to remove the icon from your blog.
• Read below if you want to find out about Iron Commenters.
• The commenting ends on the 28th. We catch our breath and the whole thing starts again the next month on the 1st. Drop in and out according to what is happening in your life between the 21st and the 28th.

1. Stirrup Queens (twins, books, writing)
2. Find Joy Now (adoption, joy, life)
3. Anla Knits, no really she does. (infertility, feeling lost, life)
4. Mommie Heaven (toddler, diapers, academia)
5. Weebles Wobblog (open adoption, mindfulness, perfect moments)
6. Musings of a Hormonal Egg Basket (pregnancy after IVF)
7. Bee In The Bonnet (twins, babies, advice)
8. ErnieGirl (pregnant infertile birthmother)
9. Infertility Musings (ivf, thyroid, change)
10. His & Her Infertility (Just Like The Matching Towels) (PCOS, azoo, international adoption)
11. Certainly Not Cool Enought to Blog (childlessness, survival, life)
12. Maybe Baby . . . (or maybe the loony bin?) (infertility, IVF, life)
13. Just Two Lines Away (high fsh, endo)
14. Someday (azoospermia, grief, decisions)
15. Can I Get Some Sugar with These Lemons? (Korean adoption, endo, infertility)
16. In The Middle With You (adoption, infertility, random thoughts)
17. Creating a Family (infertility, adoption, adoptive parenting)
18. Dragondreamer’s Lair (parenting, secondary infertility, crafts)
19. The Miss Ruby (living childless longtermttc)
20. The Maniacal Mommy (motherhood, infertility, pregnancy)
21. Making Me Mom (ivf, faith, emotions)
22. The Road Less Traveled (infant loss, IVF, embryo adoption)
23. The Inadequate Conception (infertility, humor, adoption)
24. No Suzy Homemaker (RPL, IVF, stillbirth)
25. CD1 Again (infertility, life, tests)
26. Planting a Pumpkin Patch (loss, humor, puppies)
27. The 2 Week Wait (humor, TTC, infertility)
28. Baby On Mind (IVF, ttc#1, unexplained)
29. Cradles and Graves (recurrent cord-related loss, IVF #2)
30. Baby Dreams (ttc#2 w/pcos after loss, my son, love dare)
31. Lil Family Blog (motherhood, lesbians, giveaways)
32. Care to Try (pcos, cycles, life)
33. The Infertility Overachievers (IVF success, son, TTC again)
34. Infertile Revolution (infertility, politics, feminism)
35. Somekindofride (adoption, foster care, parenting)
36. On Tap for Today (life, humor, Boston)
37. Are We There Yet (pregnancy, high risk, post-fibroid removal)
38. Infertility And Me (azoospermia, mfi, pregnant)
39. Wistfulgirl’s World (ttc, hyperplasia, life)
40. Baybee Luv (giveaways, reviews, motherhood)
41. Barrenista (barren, adoption, 3-year-old)
42. Random Thoughts From Angie (challenge, ttc, life)
43. believing in june (early pregnancy, marriage, hope)
44. The Bushey Life (pregnancy after infertility)
45. Rotten Eggs? (Ivf, unexplained fertility, coping)
46. Iscrapandco (scrapbooking, travel, randomness)
47. Trying for Two (miscarriage pregnancy ttc)
48. Reproductive Jeans (parenting, photos, next-steps)
49. Our Journey, but Not Our Plan (adoption, infertility, teacher)
50. Accepting the Unexpected (loss, irregular cycles, infertility)
51. Getting There (adoption, infertility, waiting)
52. Stolen Fertility (infertility, emotions, technical)
53. Funny Little Pollywogs (embryo adoption, food, photography)
54. Inconceivable! (unexplained infertility, ivf#1)
55. Chois-R-Us (adoption, life, waiting)
56. Lifeslurper (miscarriage, donor eggs, 40+)
57. The Journey to Our Three Little Kilos (infertility, ttc, miscarriage)
58. Life in the Last Frontier (open adoption, infertility, life)
59. Fearlessly Infertile (IVF #2, military, random)
60. Melissa’s Thoughts and Realizations (ivf, hypothyroid, miscarriage)
61. My Ordinary Miracles (IVF survivor, twins, toddler)
62. Flogging the Muse (art, painting, creativity)
63. Jen’s Seven From Heaven (embryo adoption, children, family)
64. 3 Babies, 2 Jens, 1 Cause- Embryo Adoption (embryo adoption, our adopted blessings)
65. Savor the Moment (infertility, the beginning, humor)
66. An Unexpected Life (infertility, adoption, sadness)
67. Chasing Mommyhood (IUI, single, endo)
68. Through The Eyes of a Stranger (infertility, life, general)
69. Among the Blossoms (infertility, mfi, randomness)
70. Lily in the Valley (infertility, marriage, stepparenting)
71. Trying not to scream (infertility, loss, trying again)
72. You Call Me a Bitch Like It’s a Bad Thing (ivf, pgd, fibroid/myomectomy)
73. Blawnde’s Blawg (first IUI, 2WW, infertile but hopeful)
74. First & Only IVF (ivf, infertility, loneliness)
75. Carney Exploits (fertilty school unemployment)
76. My Path to Insanity & Beyond (IVF, FET, life)
77. Days Of Our Lives (life, daily events, and adventures)
78. Project Baby (infertility, donor sperm, hope)
79. Dreaming of Quiet Places (ponderings, emotional abuse recovery, my cute dog)
80. Mommy in Waiting (ivf, mfi, hope)
81. The (In)fertility Diaries (adoption, life, ttc)
82. Autism Mom Rising (autism, spirituality, overcoming adversity)
83. ChicknChicken (infertility, miscarriage, trying to conceive)
84. Going For It (IVF #2, MFI, low reserve)
85. Your Great Life (fertility health, infertility support, happiness within)
86. Inconceivable! (ttc, step-parenting, life)
87. DearFutureBaby (infertility, adoption, judaism)
88. Peace, Love, and Starbucks (life, school, TTC)
89. Spermination Station (first trimester, life)
90. Confessions Of A College Angel (random, life, family)
91. wanna bee (adoption, loss, craftiness)
92. A Greater Yes (embryo adoption, infertility)
93. Mama Bear (adoption, infertility, pregnancy)
94. Stumbling Gracefully (motherhood, acceptance, letting go)
95. The Big Green Easy (gardening green cleaning)
96. A Little Bit of Life (pregnancy after clomid, marriage, life)
97. Jamie and us now and forever (foster-care adoption, 4 yr old daughter)
98. Ambivalent Womb (mfi, ivf #3)
99. The Rocky Road to Motherhood (ivf, infertility, life)
100. A Little Blog About the Big Infertility (IVF #4, loss, bad eggs)
101. The Barreness (infertility, sadness, hope)
102. An Infertile Blog (infertility, diet, life)
103. Missing Baby Carriage (pcos, iui, bfp)
104. Keeping my eyes on Jesus (IVF, faith, miscarriage)
105. Quebecoise et bilingue : a Quebecker’s Bilingual Blog (Quebec, life, happiness)
106. Hannah Wept, Sarah Laughed (life, infertility, Judaism)
107. It Is Tuesday, Right?? (frozen cycle, motherhood, general insanity)
108. I Spy A Family (adoption, motherhood)
109. The Deep Breath Before the Plunge (infertility, ttc 4yrs)
110. The Panda Diaries (pregnancy, home birth, depression/anxiety)
111. Knocked up by Another Man (DE-IVF, bedrest, Alaska)
112. Musings of an Everyday Weightloss Guru (weight loss, life, fitness)
113. Baby Magnesi (MFI, TTC, IVF)
114. My Lovely Lady Bump (pregnancy after loss, pregnancy)
115. The Barreness’s Blog (parenting after infertility)
116. Life in the White House (donor sperm, life, crafting)
117. SaM’s Town (twins after IF, photography, life)
118. It’s Always Raining (ttc, life, marriage)
119. As Fast As My Baby Can (ttc#1 unexplained infertility)
120. Are You Listening (toddlerhood, life, photography)
121. The Pitter-Patter (IF,TTC, miscarriage)
122. Invisible Mother (miscarriage, recovery, ttc plans)
123. Life: Chats and Rants (life, pcos, ttc)
124. A Virtual Hobby Store and Coffee Shop (news, music, food)
125. Born From My Heart (motherhood, PCOS, adoption)
126. Flucky Mom (parenting after IF, life, tips)
127. Waiting Lisa (adoption, long wait, infertility)
128. Maybe Momma Someday (IVF, early pregnancy, faith)
129. The Infertility Doula (infertility, support, guidance)
130. My Herbal Salve-vation (ivf, infertility, natural remedies)
131. In Pursuit of Parenthood (faith, iui, pregnancy loss)
132. Riding the IVF Roller Coaster (IVF, fail, repeat)
133. While I’m Waiting (MFI, loss, christianity)
134. Adventures of a Dam Engineer (adoption, infertility)
135. Cape Girl’s Journey (pregnancy, IVF, stillbirth)
136. Magnolia Queen (wedding, catholic, family)
137. The Encouraged Egg (IVF, humor, FET)
138. Infertile Follies (infertility, IVF, ectopic pregnancy)
139. That’s My Answer (question of the day, fun, life)
140. Bio Girl (parenting, family, infertility)
141. Waiting For That Positive (ttc, waiting, life)
142. Our New Normal (pregnancy loss, adoption)
143. Cheese Curds and Kimchi (adoption, korea, photography)
144. the list is now closed.  The list for October will open on 9/30

Q: What if I miss a day?

A: Catch up the next day by doubling your comments–12 comments instead of 6.

Q: What if I have two blogs? Can I sign up twice, listing both blogs?

A: Yes, but you also need to double your comments. If you have two blogs listed, you should be leaving 12 comments per day.

Q: What is an Iron Commenter?

A: Not for the faint-of-heart. People who wish to be an Iron Commenter and be entered on the Iron Commenter honour roll need to leave a comment on every blog on the participants list (exceptions are blogs that require you to have a special log-in, such as some LiveJournal accounts or other similar situations). You can spread out this commenting any way you wish over the whole week, but the final comment needs to be left by midnight on the 28th (EST). Reaching Iron Commenter status is done on an honour system. Please email me if you earn Iron Commenter status so I can add you to the wall of honour.

Q: Why do I have to add that bit of code to my sidebar?

A: The code is the latest icon (the icon changes colour every month so you know that you’re on the right list). This month, the icon is purple, the next month it will be green, etc. The reason is two-fold: (1) it enables more people to find out about IComLeavWe and (2) it gives you easy access to the current list once the commenting week actually begins and better ensures that you’ll use it. Too many times, people sign up and forget to actually do IComLeavWe and this icon gives you a daily reminder (with the dates on it) every time you open your own blog. The icon is linked back to the current list. On the 28th, remove the icon from your blog. A new one will be created for the next month.

Q: It’s the 23rd and I just saw this for the first time on my friend’s blog! I want to join the list–why can’t I?

A: Because IComLeavWe happens every month, once the list is closed, it’s closed. If you’re finding out about this on the 23rd, you can’t join the current month. But leave yourself a note to check back in a week on the 1st and you can sign up for the next month.

Q: You said the list closes on the 21st. Well, it’s still the 21st where I am. Why aren’t you moving my information onto the list?

A: All dates and times are U.S. Eastern Standard Time (UTC/GMT -5 hours). The list closes around 11 p.m. EST on the 21st.

Q: What if no one comments on my blog and I have no comments to return?

A: Well, that really doesn’t happen for the most part, but in that case, simply choose another blog and add an additional comment. The goal is to hit 6 comments daily as a minimum. Going over that is fantastic and encouraged.

Q: Mel, my question wasn’t covered at all. What do I do?

A: Email me; I’m quite friendly. It helps to place “IComLeavWe” in the subject line. You could also check this post which contains the history of IComLeavWe and see if you can glean anything there.

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