I have to admit that both of my girls had a fairly easy time with birth. Cordy was a scheduled c-section during the 38th week because she was determined to never come out and had arranged herself in such a way to guarantee that. She was unaware that doctors could forcibly remove her by surgery. I still remember how pissed off she was at being dragged out into the cold air, and I'm not sure she's ever completely forgiven us for that.

Mira was an extremely uncomplicated birth, other than the fact that she waited a full week past the due date to make her appearance.

I'm lucky that both of my girls were born healthy, requiring no assistance in breathing or feeding. Some aren't so lucky, though, and have to fight much harder for their place in this world.

If you haven't met Mama Spohr (Heather) yet, you should really take the time to go read her blog. She has a beautiful little girl named Maddie who had a very rough start to life. Maddie was born at 28 weeks after Heather had been on bedrest for 19 weeks because of pregnancy complications.

Heather had PPROM, which is an acronym for Preterm Premature Rupture of Membranes, which is medical-speak for premature baby coming now - NOT GOOD. Maddie was rushed to the NICU when she was born, where the medical team fought to keep her alive. At times her lungs would rupture with tiny holes, forcing air into her chest cavity. The slightest touch could overstimulate her and send her heart rate plummeting downward. (Note: I've seen this happen in the NICU - it's amazing how strong yet delicate preemies are!)

More than once Heather was told her daughter would not survive. But thanks to a well-trained team, a state-of-the-art NICU, and of course Maddie's strong-willed spirit, she's here today.

One reason I agreed to be a March of Dimes Mom is that I stand firmly behind the research and advances they have helped make happen. There was a time when nothing could be done to save a baby when the mom suffered a PPROM, and preemies under 32 weeks had a small chance at survival. Now NICU doctors and nurses are saving babies born at 23 weeks gestation. As the technology improves, outcomes will improve also, and hopefully fewer babies will be born too soon.

Heather is participating in the March of Dimes March for Babies on April 25 in Los Angeles. She's already done an amazing amount of fundraising, and at this very moment is only $140 away from her $2000 goal. To help get more donations, she's giving away an all-in-one printer and Kodak digital camera - every dollar donated counts as one entry. Her contest ends tonight, but you can still donate beyond today, too.

I want to see her surpass her goal. This money goes directly to help fund research so children like Maddie get that help they need to survive. And even if you don't have the money to spare, check out her blog and cheer her on, OK?

Few things in life are
as uber-annoying as
Time Warner Cable

Technical support?
Talk to "Luke", the guy with an
Indian accent

Back to the very
beginning - "are you sure your
router is turned on?"

More mindless questions -
I think I know more than this
highly trained expert

His conclusion? The
problem is mine, not theirs, so
sorry - have a good day!

My internet still
is wonky - hey WOW cable?
Got any good deals?

We have fought with Time Warner Cable ever since we moved into our house. They are here at least every six months to diagnose a new reason why our internet isn't working. Our yard has been cut into to run a new line four times now. One tech added a signal booster, another took it away, saying it was illegal now. The modem has been replaced twice, the digital converter box once.

The last tech who came out (after several trans-continental calls to Ian, Steven, and Sandra in India failed to fix the problem) told us that the line was too long, and because the box was so far away from our house, we'll never get a good signal.

Today, our wireless internet stopped working (nothing had changed with the router), but the router still worked if you connected it to the computer with an ethernet cable. I thought it was a bad router, so we bought a new one, but after setting it up, the same problem happened. How could two routers have the same problem? I explained the entire problem to TW's tech support, but was informed that because I could get internet with the ethernet cable, it wasn't their problem, and they wouldn't investigate further.

I think I'm done with Time Warner. You've messed with my wireless internet one too many times, and I don't take kindly to being cut off from my internet.


To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What's a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your main blog URL). DON'T sign unless you have a haiku this week. If you need help with this, please let me know.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button at the top.

REMEMBER: Do not post your link unless you have a haiku this week! I will delete any links without haiku!

Cordy is nearly four and half years old, and is still not potty trained. Yes, throw all your tsk-tsks at me, I've heard them a hundred times already. We're not committed enough, we're not doing it right, we're letting her control the situation, we're lazy - those are the primary reasons stated by complete strangers for why our daughter insists on remaining in diapers. As if it really impacts their lives if my kid is wearing a diaper.

But we have been trying, ever since she turned three years old. Many adjectives can be used to describe Cordy, but "compliant" is not one of them. Our long journey through potty training has included several types of potty chairs and seats, pull-ups, plastic pants, training underwear, reward stickers and candy, schedules, potty DVDs and books, potty songs, and many wet spots to clean up. By Christmas I was resigned to the fact that Cordy was likely to be in pull-ups for Pre-K next year.

Part of the problem at first was her fear of the bathroom. It was too noisy, it echoed too much. The toilet and faucet had running water, and she was always scared of getting wet. She didn't like the feel of her bare bottom on cold plastic, and we're not wealthy enough for heated toilet seats. Her sensory issues are not nearly as severe now, though - one hurdle down.

However, she also has a hard time knowing when she has to go. Of course, many kids often do this - how often have you seen a kid wet themselves because they were playing too intensely to notice? But she could be doing nothing and still pee without understanding what happened.

They have been working with her at school, and I'm incredibly grateful to her teacher for helping her get over her fear of the bathroom. At first she had to stand by the entrance, then she had to stand inside while other kids were using the bathroom. Then eventually they made her try sitting on the potty. We'd do the same thing at home, and it slowly started to sink in little by little, but she wasn't consistent enough to try underwear, and she would scream and cry at the mere suggestion of underwear.

Over the past two months, she's made a lot of progress. And then, a few weeks ago, everything clicked. She suddenly wanted to wear underwear instead of insisting on a pullup, and she made every effort to keep her underwear dry for an entire day.

What's our secret? We finally found a reward that means enough to her to guarantee her effort in this task:


Baking.

Turns out, Cordy was switched at birth. Or at least she forgot to pick up the part of my DNA having to do with my lack of domestic skill. While I avoid the kitchen at the request of the Columbus Division of Fire, she wants nothing more than to pour, mix, and stir. She even likes cracking eggs! Given the choice of any reward, she would choose baking over anything else.

All photos are of food half-eaten. Sorry, she's a pretty good baker.

So our new deal with Cordy is that if she can keep her underwear dry until dinnertime each day, she's allowed to bake something for dessert. We've Daddy and Cordy have made cookies, brownies, muffins and cupcakes in celebration of dry underwear days. Cordy says she's the "Little Chef" and Aaron is the "Big Chef."

Mira, when she's allowed to participate, is the "Littlest Chef of All" but most of the time Mira is serving in the role of "Biggest Pain in the Ass Who Tries to Wreck Everything." That one is my kid for sure.

I can't explain why it is suddenly working, but Cordy has more dry days than wet days in just two short weeks. She still needs an overnight diaper for bedtime, she still has to be prompted to go to the bathroom, and any chance of #2 in the potty is still far off, but I'm no longer as concerned that Mira would be out of diapers before Cordy.

Baking - who knew? It's a good thing Aaron suggested baking cookies, because I never would have thought of it. And then Cordy might have remained in diapers until her first home ec class. Of course, I'd probably be skinnier, too - if she keeps baking, I'll keep gaining weight.

When I was at Blissdom 09, one of the hot topics was monetizing your blog. If you were following along on Twitter, you might have seen a flurry of women trying to figure out how much the panelists are making from their blogs. Was there a certain threshold of blog traffic needed to start monetizing? Are ads the only way to make money? How do we deal with PR people wanting to work with us, and do we charge for product reviews?

Yes, it's been two weeks since Blissdom and I'm just now getting to the topic. I like to take my time thinking these things through. Here are my thoughts:

[Before we go any further, I'll add that I'm NOT an expert by any definition.]

1. Blog primarily because you love the subject.

Making an income should be your second priority. Write what you know and give something useful to your readers. Care about the community you're in.

I'm hoping that the majority of these women already had their own blogs, writing about topics they enjoy. Because I think the first lesson of monetizing your blog is to be writing for the love of the subject. If you start a blog with the intention of only making money, you're likely to get burned out quickly. Have a plan that doesn't involve money - I write this blog because I love writing about my family, and I have my reviews blog because I love trying out new things and sharing my opinion with others.

2. Use your traffic and your influence to determine your worth when approaching or being approached by advertisers.

Once you do feel you're ready to add some advertising or reviews to your site, where do you begin? How much do you charge? I remember when I received my first request for a private ad, I had no idea what to charge. Is $5 a month good, or am I selling myself too cheap? If I ask for $25, will I be laughed at?

Thankfully, Dawn from KaiserAlex recently cracked the DaVinci code and revealed a formula you can use to get an idea of what you should be charging. It's such a simple formula - I wish I had it a year ago! The formula is based on your traffic, and while it's not perfect, it's a very good start.

Speaking of traffic: traffic is an issue that many people feel touchy about. Kim Moldofsky recently wrote about being asked for her traffic numbers from a PR company, and how bothered she was that they started this new relationship with a demand for her traffic numbers. It's OK to protect your traffic stats - you shouldn't have to give them out to everyone who asks. (Obviously, if you're joining an ad network or specifically asked to be a part of a PR campaign, you will need to supply your traffic numbers.)

I'm not one to go shouting my traffic stats to everyone, mostly because I feel there's more to me than the numbers Google Analytics shows me. My reach as a blogger is not completely based on numbers - anyone can have a high traffic month from dumb Google searches for "Paris Hilton naked". My traffic may be lower than some, but I may have more dedicated readers than someone with lots of traffic.

I also have a decent number of subscribers who read but may not always click through. And beyond my blog, I have other outlets that increase my value: I have a decently large following on Twitter, I use StumbleUpon, I network on Facebook, and I write for other blogs. I also attend blog conferences that give me the chance to network with others and share what I know.

So what am I worth as a blogger? I still don't know for sure. I've figured out an advertising rate I'm comfortable with, and I know how much I'm paid to write at SavvySource. I occasionally am paid for the time I put into product reviews, but that payment is usually an Amazon gift card, and often I'm given nothing more than the product itself. I'm comfortable with the rules I've established with PR companies. (Note to self: publish my PR guidelines on my blog soon. Do as I say, everyone...)

3. If you want to make this a full-time living, consider looking for paid blogging positions.

Several people at Blissdom wanted an idea of how much money can be made by blogging. No one was willing to share specific income numbers, and since income is still very much a taboo subject to talk about in our society, I wouldn't expect them to do that. I actually told everyone on Twitter how much I made in 2008 - not because I wanted to show-off (and it wasn't an amount high enough to even call showing off), but because this isn't full-time for me. If I was making my primary living from blogging, I might be a little more cautious about telling the world, too.

I'd also caution readers that I think very few people can make a decent amount of money blogging just through advertising and affiliate programs. I'd bet that many who do make a full-time income writing are making a large share of their money through being paid to write for others. My ad income is enough to pay one utility bill each month - but I make more than double that by writing for others. Mir has pointed out more than once that a lot of her income is from her freelance writing, not directly from her blog.

Problogger has a good listing of paid blogging gigs, but often the ones you're likely to enjoy the most come from contacts you already have. I found my SavvySource job because I already followed the hiring editor - CityMama - on Twitter. If someone is looking for bloggers in your content area, you'll find out first from those in your niche.

4. If all you think about is new ways to attract readers for a larger payout, you may have lost your purpose in blogging.

Why did you want to start blogging? What are you giving back to readers? Do you need to step back and reconsider your goals?

You can easily spot a blog that only cares about making a buck - you feel no connection to it, and you are likely to not return. Even some blogs that write about "making money from blogging" are good reads - they offer something valuable to the reader, and care about keeping their reader interested. If I'm not happy with what I'm writing and my heart isn't in it, I have to wonder what's wrong. If it's simply a lost muse, I can wait it out until she finds her way back. But if it's because my focus has shifted past the writing of my blog, then it might be time to rethink what I'm doing.

So what do you think? Am I way off on this? I'd like to hear your thoughts on the topic.

Years ago when we lived in Oxford (Ohio), Aaron and I would host an Oscar party for all of our friends. We'd invite everyone we knew, buy lots of food and drink for the party, design and print off fancy ballot sheets for each guest, and spend all afternoon cleaning the living room.

Then as evening approached, we'd cram as many people as we could into our apartment right before the red carpet coverage started, and begin our evening of entertainment. Each person would fill out a ballot, choosing who they think would win for each category. Ballots had to be completed before the curtain came up so there was no cheating.

We'd critique and criticize each designer dress that came down the red carpet, laughing at some of the poor choices and applauding those stars who had sensible friends to tell them, "Trust me, you'll look good in that."

As each winner was announced, some would groan and others would cheer as we updated our ballots. We turned the entire award show into a sporting event.

Our last Oscar party was in 2004. After that we moved to Columbus, had children, and let life get in the way. We still watched the Academy Awards each year, always remarking how we missed our Oscar parties.

Well, now the party is back. Our house will play host to six others to watch Hugh Jackman try to breathe life back into the old Oscar. The drinks and snacks are ready, the ballots are printed, and it's going to be a fun night.

My predictions? I'll give you a few. Having seen Slumdog Millionaire, I'm nearly certain it's the Best Picture winner. And I'm hoping Heath Ledger gets his posthumous Best Supporting Actor statuette.

I'm putting odds on Kate Winslet for Best Actress and Mickey Rourke for Best Actor. (It could be Sean Penn, but I'm pulling for the underdog.) WALL-E should get Best Animated Film.

As for the dresses, I'm guessing Angelina Jolie will look absolutely elegant, and while it's always tough to predict the train wreck outfit of the night, Cameron Diaz is always a safe bet.

We'll see how right I am at the end of the night.

I've been feeling a
bit melancholy lately
thinking of the past

I think I will start
sharing more stories from my
younger, pre-kid days

While chatting over lunch the other day, Aaron had to correct me on my own age. I had completely forgotten an entire year off that number - ha! Little young to start forgetting my age, isn't it? Since then, I've been thinking back on how I've spent my almost 33 years.

I've shared some stories of my youth before, but I want to dig back into my mind and pull out more of the memories that have been pushed aside in favor of Wiggles songs and the names of the Backyardigans. One resurfaced recently when I read a story of another missing child, and I'm going to make an effort to write down the others when they pop into my head, even the painful ones.


To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What's a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your main blog URL). DON'T sign unless you have a haiku this week. If you need help with this, please let me know.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button at the top.

REMEMBER: Do not post your link unless you have a haiku this week! I will delete any links without haiku!

Every time I read another story about a missing child, I get a knot in my stomach. I can't imaging the pain of having your child abducted, even right from your own home while you sleep, with no idea if you will ever see your child alive again.

I'll admit that I'm very protective of my two girls. They stay within my sight at all times when we're at the playground. If we go to a crowded event, I prefer to make them sit in the stroller rather than risk turning my back and having one disappear into the crowd. I reinforce the importance of staying near mommy and daddy to Cordy, explaining that if she gets lost she could be gone forever. Yes, I might be making her fearful, but I'd rather her have a little scared of others if it means she'll get to see adulthood.

This is more than a typical mama-bear response, I think, because I know how fast an abduction can happen. Because as a child I was nearly abducted myself.

I must have been 7 or 8 years old when it happened - I can't remember exactly. During the summer I spent most of my time at my babysitter's house, or at our community pool. The pool was about 3/4 of a mile away, along residential streets, and I was often allowed to walk to and from the pool from my babysitter's house. It was a small town in the early 80s, when people left their doors unlocked while home and kids spent their days outside wandering the neighborhood.

This particular day it was hot and sunny, and I was walking back to my babysitter's house from the pool dressed only in a swimsuit and flip-flops, with a beach towel draped over my shoulders. I always liked taking the alley home instead of the street. There was something more quiet and interesting about the alley - instead of seeing houses the way people wanted you to see them, I saw the real houses as I walked past the fenced-in backyards: laundry on the clothesline, lawn furniture and outdoor toys scattered across lawns, grassy areas full of dog poop that someone had yet to clean, a car on blocks, etc.

There was also a church that I would walk past in the alley, nestled between nice homes with its white exterior and stained glass windows. It always seemed out of place and larger than life when I walked behind it.

It was on this day that I was strolling down the alley and as usual, keeping my eyes on the ground as I kicked rocks ahead of me. I glanced up as I approached the church, and noticed a man walking towards me. I was a little startled, first because I had never encountered anyone else walking down that alley in the middle of the afternoon, and second because the last time I had looked up, there was no one coming down that long, straight alley. Where did he come from?

I looked back down at the ground again and tried to maintain my best not interested in interacting because I have to be somewhere soon aura, hoping he would be equally uninterested and pass me without a word. But as we walked closer toward each other, his eyes were locked on me, and he forced a smile.

"Hi, uh, do you know... uh, do you know where I can find a paint store?"

I'm sure I must have looked at him like he was insane. A paint store? What a weird question to ask a kid in an alley.

"No, sorry. I don't know of one." I replied, trying to keep the conversation as short as possible. I started to take another step towards my destination, but he didn't move out of my way, and instead moved closer.

"Are you sure? I really need to find a paint store. C'mon, every town has one."

At this point he was invading my personal space and I was distinctly uncomfortable. I took a step back from him. He was a little short, but still taller and bigger than me. I remember he had light brown hair , but was balding across the top of his head, making his forehead look enormous. His face was square with small eyes and a big nose, and his jaw was so tight I could see it clenched. He was trying to be friendly, but looked very uncomfortable.

While my finely-honed stranger-danger spidey-sense had been activated the minute he looked at me, it was now flashing orange caution lights in my head. He was either shady or mentally ill, and I couldn't decide which.

"Sorry, I don't pay attention to paint stores. I'm just a kid. Try asking at a gas station." And with that I walked around him and continued on my way, heart pounding in my chest. I refused to look back at first - not wanting him to see I was nervous, but after a minute I did glance over my shoulder quickly.

He was gone.

I think not seeing him there at all confused me even more. But by the time I reached the end of the alley, turning onto the short street, I had dismissed the interaction as one of those weird but forgettable moments in life, calming down and resuming my typical kid thoughts. Some people are just odd.

But then, as I approached the corner of the main street - where I would then be half a block away from my babysitter's street and from there in view of her house - I saw an older car turn onto the shorter street, pulling over at the corner. Adrenaline pushed my heart into my throat as I realized it was the man from the alley in the car. He rapidly got out of the car, still trying to act friendly, but now appearing more serious and still a little nervous as he walked towards me with a determined pace.

"Listen, I really need your help, little girl. Can you come with me and show me where the nearest gas station is?"

I remember glancing down the street each way. This neighborhood was always dead quiet in the afternoon, with everyone at work. I saw no one around, no one I could run to, and no one who would hear me scream. He was coming at me from the right, the sidewalk was directly in front of me, and there was a small hill on my left, with a large grassy yard. I didn't know what to do, and simply froze as he approached me.

"Just go down North Street and you'll see one," I replied. At this point, red WARNING lights were flashing in my head. He was a stranger asking me to get into his car, which I knew was a bad idea. There was no reason for him to be seeking help from a kid.

"I'm not from here. Come on, help me out. It's OK, I won't hurt you." He was getting dangerously close, and when he dropped the smile completely I no longer felt he was a harmless mentally ill person.

At this point I was very scared. "NO! Leave me alone!" I yelled at him while taking a step back.

The next two seconds still feel like slow motion when I replay it in my head. I remember him shifting his weight towards me. His arm beginning to extend. Hand reaching out to grab me.

I remember at the same time my legs working of their own accord. Instinct moving me up that little grassy hill out of his reach while my brain still tried to process what was happening.

I recall pausing at the top of that little hill, as my higher brain function connected with the cerebellum again, looking back at the man still only a few feet from me, still lunging forward from trying to get a hand on me.

Before he could completely recover, I ran full speed across the yard towards my babysitter's house, running as if my life depended on it, because at this moment it did. I think I was screaming but I can't really remember. When I reached my babysitter's house, I no longer had my flip-flops on - I don't remember when they came off my feet.

Here's where I made my biggest mistake: I never told my babysitter. I didn't tell my mom for a long time, either. I'd been told not to walk in alleys, and I was scared that I'd get in trouble for walking in the alley that day. I think I was worried they'd tell me I deserved what happened because I didn't listen to them. So I stayed quiet, keeping this terror to myself and not thinking about stopping this man from trying this again. Years later, I still feel guilty over that. What if he abducted a different little girl because I never told the police?

There was no way I could have an adult with me at all times. But I had been taught to avoid strangers, and that lesson possibly helped save me from being kidnapped. It's one time in my life that I'm glad I had such a strong mistrust of people. What if I had trusted him and let him get closer to me? What would he have done with me? Would I even be alive today?

I never saw him again, but I always looked for his face in crowds. In some ways, I still watch for him. That one short experience impacted how I view others, and it wasn't until I had children of my own that I realized how much it has affected my parenting.

I know I can't be with Cordy and Mira all the time. The older they get, the more time they will likely spend away from me. But I will do my best to teach them stranger safety, hoping that if they ever fall into a situation like I went through, they'll get out of it safely.

And maybe they'll be smarter than me and listen when told to stay out of alleys.

Why is it when you utter the phrase "Give that to me" to someone of the 1-3 year old set, they immediately run away with wild abandon, head thrown back and laughing in defiance as they hold high the forbidden object?

And why is it the more serious you are about the need to remove said item from their sticky little hands, the faster they run?

Darwin, I'm having trouble with your theory of natural selection right now.

I get a lot of e-mail each day. Please don't think I'm bragging, because in no way am I proud of the spam I have to delete from my Inbox continuously. Some of the legitimate e-mail includes PR pitches (some of which also end up as spam), asking me to review a product or post a press release. My favorite e-mails are from blog friends or even complete strangers who took the time to say hi.

And then I get an e-mail like the one below. A complete stranger, asking so little, with so much to gain from our effortless act of signing a petition. How could I not help? Please read Victoria's e-mail and sign the petition to help promote Spinal Muscular Atrophy awareness and accelerate research to find a cure.

From Victoria:
---------------------
Dear Christina,

I recently found your blog via a mother who follows mine. I immediately bookmarked you and am thrilled to now have your website at my fingertips. Although it may seem random, I am writing to you because I feel drawn to your writing voice and I thought perhaps I may find a advocate in you. And, frankly, I am desperate.

I have a beautiful 16-month-old little girl. She is a happy baby with a fighting spirit -- and it is a good thing because she has already been through enormous challenges. My daughter, Gwendolyn, has a degenerative and terminal disease. Over the last eight months, I have grown accustomed to feeding tubes and medical machines filling her nursery. I have even come to terms with the knowledge that I will most likely lose my baby before she reaches the age of two...well, some days any way. I am hoping that you will consider helping me raise awareness about her little known but all too common disease and highlight a petition my husband and I started.

My daughter, Gwendolyn, was born perfectly healthy October 2007. Unfortunately, at 9 weeks old she became very ill and was eventually diagnosed with Spinal Muscular Atrophy or SMA, the #1 genetic killer of infants. In fact, 1 in 40 people unknowingly carry the gene responsible for SMA. It is terminal. It is degenerative. It is cruel. Gwendolyn will never walk, never sit up unassisted, and spends most time completely flat where she is most comfortable. Some days I can not pick her up or snuggle her because the movement is too much for her. She may never speak, although we are hopeful. And while she currently has some arm movement, it seems to weaken every day. She needs help to breathe and even to swallow her own saliva. However, her mind is perfectly fine and already she wants so desperately to do all the things that her failing body hinders.

Although, Gwendolyn's disease currently has no treatment and no cure, the National Institutes of Health (NIH) has described SMA as the disease "closest to treatment" and researchers claim they are just a few years away from finding a cure. And, there is landmark legislation, the SMA Treatment Acceleration Act, currently sitting in Congress that, if passed, would provide researchers the resources needed to make that last crucial step. In addition, SMA research has already benefited the research of other diseases, such as ALS/Lou Gehrig's, Parkinson's, Alzheimer's, Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy, Tay Sachs, and many others. In fact, it is because so much is known about SMA that the national organizations consider it a "model" disease from which so much can be learned and put toward saving countless lives.

Having been initially told that there was nothing we could do but go home and love our baby, it is empowering to know we are so close to changing this outlook…and, perhaps, saving our daughter's life. Thus, this summer my husband and I joined the battle being waged by the SMA community nationwide and created an online petition – www.PetitionToCureSMA.com – as a grassroots effort to drum up broad national support for the SMA Treatment Acceleration Act. Our petition has received backing from the SMA community - FightSMA and Families of SMA - and to date has over 49,000 signatures from all 50 states and many countries. The petition has also been a useful tool in raising much needed awareness of this infant killer.

We are just one family fighting to end this cruel disease, but with the support of others it is within our reach. So please, as a parent, I am asking you to consider signing the petition: www.PetitionToCureSMA.com (it takes 30 seconds) and helping us promote SMA awareness. With your support, thousands of children can have the future they so deserve.

You can learn more about Gwendolyn on our blog: www.GwendolynStrong.com. Here is a petition promotional video you are welcome to post: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U_pL0kMvlcg

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,
Victoria -- Gwendolyn's Mommy
www.GwendolynStrong.com

-----------------
Here is a bit more about SMA:

• SMA is #1 genetic killer of children under two.
• SMA is estimated to occur in nearly 1 out of every 6,000 births.
• The gene that causes SMA is unknowingly carried by 1 in every 40 people or nearly 7.5 million Americans.
• The life expectancy for infants with SMA Type 1 is two years.
  
• SMA is a degenerative disease that destroys the nerves controlling voluntary muscle movement, including breathing and even swallowing -- these children are otherwise perfectly healthy and "normal" -- making them trapped in their own failing body.
• There is currently no cure, but the National Institutes of Health (NIH) and the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke (NINDS) have selected SMA as the disease closest to treatment of more than 600 neurological disorders.
• Researchers estimate that we are as close as only a few years away from finding a treatment and/or cure.

Good news came this week
My last quarter of nursing
school is gonna rock

I've been assigned a
preceptor in a special
care nursery - yippie!

I'll spend my time with
newborns who need a little
help starting their lives

In other news: a
new blog project for me - see
the button below

I'm blogging once a
month for March of Dimes to bring
notice to their cause

I'm thrilled that I'll be spending my last quarter of nursing school in the special care nursery of a local hospital, working one-on-one with a nurse and getting as much hands-on experience as possible. Special care is not a NICU - more like a place for babies who need just a little help making that transition to the outside world for one reason or another.

And in a somewhat related tangent, one of my posts each month in 2009 will be devoted to a topic from the March of Dimes. They asked me to be a blog ambassador for them, and seeing how I've always supported this incredible organization, I quickly agreed.

Unlike other partnerships, I'm not getting any compensation (I think they promised me a March of Dimes coffee mug?), but I will get the chance to interview celebrities and doctors involved with the March of Dimes. While I'm thankful to have given birth to two healthy daughters, I know there are others who aren't so lucky, and I'm happy to spread the word about March of Dimes and all of the research and outreach they do.


To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What's a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your main blog URL). DON'T sign unless you have a haiku this week. If you need help with this, please let me know.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button at the top.

REMEMBER: Do not post your link unless you have a haiku this week! I will delete any links without haiku!

Yesterday, while volunteering at Cordy's preschool, her teacher let me in on a little tidbit of Cordy's school life.

"She's got a boyfriend now, you know."

"WHA?"

"Yep, she and [boy's name] have been really sweet on each other."

At that point my head exploded.

Apparently over the past two weeks she and this boy have suddenly become a couple. They sit next to each other during circle time, arms around each other. He insists on being right next to her at the table and in line. He asks for the same snack she likes to eat, even though he then won't eat it because he doesn't like it. If someone sits next to her he will get very upset.

Maybe he's not so much a boyfriend as a stalker?

Even worse, he's the "bad boy" of the class. He has massive tantrums, stubbornly refuses to do things, and I once watched him throw his shoe at an adult's head. Why couldn't she go for one of the gentle, quiet boys in her class?

I wasn't expecting to deal with boys for quite some time. Like, say, 30 years from now. Of course, she doesn't even mention him at home. When asked who her friends are at school, his name doesn't come up. So while she willingly participates in the love-fest at school, she's either not that interested in him or is choosing not to tell us. I'm really hoping it's the former.

At least her first boyfriend is likely to be short-lived. We don't know his family, and she'll be at a different school next year. That gives me all summer to teach her how to go for the sweet, quiet guys instead. Or that boys have cooties and she should avoid them at all costs.

I send my husband and my car to you for one short weekend, so he could attend a little convention for work, and this is what I get in return:




Where's the love, NYC? You're totally off my Valentine's Day card list.

Signed,

An Ohioan who is thankful our parking lots aren't full service and employing blind armless monkeys to move cars.

Trying to describe what happens at a blog conference is always so hard. There are so many moments that are touching, strange, funny, frustrating, and inspiring, but they're all jumbled together and generally are better in person than on screen. It doesn't matter the conference - all of them share certain aspects. So I'll try to describe Blissdom without rambling too much about great moments that you'll read and just scratch your head, asking "What's the big deal?"

I wanted to do a post yesterday, but spent most of the day staring at this:


Yeah, see, I told you all blog cons have things in common. This isn't the first time I've encountered hotels that didn't realize that a conference full of bloggers really will need internet access for nearly everyone.

Thankfully the hotel did get more wifi access.

Dinner last night was at the hotel, and featured the Incredibly Enormous Salad:


In true southern cooking fashion, asking for a little mayo for my sandwich resulted in enough mayo to make a potato salad for 10.

This morning, we were treated to a sneak peak at the new Yanni DVD Voices. Everyone danced in their seats to the Latin-flavored music and drooled over the guy on the DVD I affectionately named "Frilly ponytail matador vam-pirate guy" - you have to see the DVD to understand. But then, just as we all came down from our salsa-dancing high, we shot back up again when they announced that two of the singers from Voices were here to answer questions. And yes, one of them was "Frilly ponytail matador vam-pirate guy". After the Q&A, autographs and photo ops were provided.


The sessions today were packed with more information than I can share in one post, so I'll have to come back to them later.

Chris Mann provided late-afternoon entertainment with his excellent music. Gotta love a musician who is also Twitter-savvy.

Dinner was at the most amazing restaurant in Nashville. The New Orleans Mansion House is a beautiful, elegant old mansion, but the staff were funny and extremely accommodating, and they knew how to actually make a real drink. (Sorry, the hotel drinks were little more than juice and water.) The food? Incredible.


The evening had to end with a bang, and if it wasn't going to be drunken antics, how about a group of bloggers stuck in a hotel elevator for 40 minutes? I just got word they were freed minutes ago. Had Baby Jessica fallen down the well with a smart phone and Twitter in the 80's, she would have been rescued a lot faster, I think.

Finally, I have to add that the hit of the weekend seems to have been my new itty-bitty Dell Mini. It's a 9" laptop with only the stuff you need for a conference, and it's so lightweight. I wish I was getting commission for all of the Dell Minis that will be purchased from the Dell Outlet this week - I'm sure a few will be finding new homes with these bloggers.

Small-fry

PS - All photos provided by a spiffy Canon Rebel XT that was on-loan to me from Midwest Photo Exchange. They're a Columbus company owned by a great guy who is practically family. I'm sad to have to return this camera, but I'm still saving to buy another from him soon. (He rents cameras, too.)

On the road again
Tonight in Cincinnati
Tomorrow: Blissdom!

Two days of blog fun
in Nashville, then breakfast at
The Pancake Pantry

I'm really excited to be heading to a blog conference this weekend. Heather picked me up as she drove down from Cleveland, and tonight we're staying with Shannan before grabbing Amy and continuing the roadtrip tomorrow. BlogHer rocks, but only once a year is not often enough. Blissdom will give me the chance to reconnect with old friends, see others I've never met in person yet, and meet new PR folks to work with. It's technically work, but feels more like a vacation.


To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What's a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your main blog URL). DON'T sign unless you have a haiku this week. If you need help with this, please let me know.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button at the top.

REMEMBER: Do not post your link unless you have a haiku this week! I will delete any links without haiku!

I'd like to welcome everyone who is visiting me from CNN today. And for my regular readers, go check out the CNN article - it's got useful information for nearly anyone who isn't self-employed. Of course, I thought that someday I might be featured on CNN for something I'd accomplished, and not because I have no health insurance. But hey, gotta gobble up those 15 minutes of fame somehow, and it's better than being that guy on TV in his undershirt, holding a beer and talking about how the tornado tossed his trailer around like a tin can.

As a follow-up to that article, I'll add that we tried to buy private health insurance when Aaron began his contract job in November. I researched, got advice from those who buy their own insurance, and then settled on a provider. After filling out the mile-long application, where I had to list every stuffy nose we've ever had, including full dates of illness and symptom, we then endured weeks of back-and-forth with the insurance company.

They insisted on bloodwork for Aaron because it had been too long since his last routine tests. The CNN article recommends not having tests run when you have a limited time on insurance, because it could hurt your chances of getting private insurance. However, I can tell you from experience that it doesn't matter - they'll get the information one way or another.

Apparently they found something in his tests, but wouldn't give us the details. (Nice, right? You'd think we have the right to know about our own health.) Instead, we were told that he was denied any prescription drug coverage. He takes no prescription meds currently, and only took one for a short time in the 11 years I've known him. There were also several "pre-existing conditions" based on everything we reported to them, none of which were covered for the first six months. Seeing how I was planning to need this insurance for a year at the absolute most, I thought paying that much for next to nothing wasn't worth it.

So at the moment our family has no health insurance, and unless we can find another job by the end of the month, we'll be unemployed again. I've been saving anything we can spare from each paycheck to help us pay bills the next few months. Cordy and Mira can go back onto the SCHIP health insurance plan next month, too. I graduate from nursing school in June and will hopefully find a job with full benefits quickly. Then we'll be back to where we were before Aaron was laid off last June. I can't wait for that point - I've never been without health insurance before this, and this has been one of the most stressful times in my life.

I hope the layoffs across the nation begin to slow soon. No one should have to go through this stress, and no one should be without basic access to health insurance in this country.

One benefit of having two children of the same gender is reusing clothing for the second child. Yes, Mira will someday hate me for making over half of her wardrobe Cordy's old clothing, but for now she doesn't care. And I especially love it because of the wash of memories and emotions I get when pulling out one of Cordy's old outfits that I loved so much.

Yesterday, I dressed Mira in one of my particular favorites, and after seeing her fully dressed, I had to take a picture, and then compare it to one of Cordy:


That's Mira on the left, and Cordy on the right. I should also point out that in these two photos, Mira is 5 months older than her Amazon sister - Cordy was only 15 months old and wearing 24 mo. clothing.

What's amazing to me is seeing the differences between my two girls. They have some similar features, but staring at each photo, I can practically feel the different spirits of each child coming from each image.

Mira is, and has always been, the analytical one. She watches everything around her carefully, taking it all in and not tipping her hand as to how she's feeling until she's fully taken it all in. She is cool in all she does, and often holds everything inside until she bursts. It's only when there are no cameras or strangers around that she fully relaxes into the goofy girl we know.

Cordy, on the other hand, holds nothing back. A complete open book. Every photo of her at that age shows a child smiling at the camera (or looking rather angry if that was how she was feeling). Not a neutral face could be found, because her heart was always firmly planted on her sleeve.

And just because I can't go digging through my photo archives and post only one photo of Cordy as a toddler, I'll add in this one, too.


Sometimes I wish I could stop time for a little while.

PS - Go visit my reviews blog today for a sweet Valentine's giveaway. Let's just say it's a little something to help bring back the romance in your life!

With the layer of snow still covering the ground, and two little girls with pent-up energy from being cooped up for days, we ventured out to the mall playground yesterday. (OK, so it was also so I could do a little shopping, but that's beside the point.)

Aaron watched the girls play for about 45 minutes, and then I took over for the last bit. Not long after I sat down, Cordy came up to me and sat on my lap. "Can we go home now?"

Surprised by this request, I said, "Yes, we can go home as soon as daddy comes back."

At this point a little girl walked up to us and said to Cordy, "Come on! Your red car is back! Come play!" At first I wondered what red car? She doesn't have a red car with her...

Then Cordy's face brightened. "OK!" she exclaimed, taking the little girl's hand as she led Cordy to the other side of the play area. It was such a sweet scene to witness - this little girl was asking Cordy to come play! My heart grew three sizes in that moment as I imagined Cordy someday having lots of friends and charming other kids.

I watched them go up to an older boy in a brown shirt (he looked about 7), and he then produced a shiny red toy car from behind his back. He took off running, holding the car up high. The group of 4 or 5 kids around him ran after him, including Cordy. The other kids looked around 5 or 6, so I wasn't concerned that an older kid was with the group.

The thought crossed my mind that this older boy might be teasing the other kids a bit, but I quickly let that thought fall away when Mira climbed onto my lap for some attention. Cordy was having fun with friends, so I was happy.

A minute or so later, I checked to see where Cordy was in the play area. At first I didn't see her, but I saw the group of kids she was with. They all seemed to be leaning in towards something up against a play structure, crowded together and laughing. I saw the older boy lower his hand, with the red car in it, towards the kid I couldn't see, saying "Here, you want this?" and then yank it back quickly, shouting "NO!" at the kid and laughing. The other kids roared in laughter in response.

I started to get a sinking feeling, which was then confirmed when I heard Cordy's high-pitched shriek. I shifted my position and across the play area saw Cordy, sitting on the floor and cornered by this group of kids, reaching up and pleading to play with the car as the boy again thrust it in her face, only to pull it away as she touched it, shouting "NO! It's MINE, dummy!" in her face and laughing at her as she shrieked again, half-covering her face and looking confused. The other kids were egging him on, saying, "Do it again!" and shouting at Cordy, "It's not your car!"

At that moment my heart shattered into a million pieces.

A moment later, sensing my heart was no longer in any state to put up a fight, my rage began rising from my gut on a conquering march to my brain.

I stormed over there, with what little logic I still had in my head repeating a mantra of Don't kill the kids...don't kill the kids... Not trusting myself to say anything to these little monsters, I simply walked past them and scooped Cordy into my arms, saying, "C'mon, let's go play over there. You don't need to play with kids who are mean to you."

The older kid, realizing the jig was up, and thinking himself smooth and savvy with adults, tried to act like nothing was wrong. "She kept asking for her car, but it's mine. She thought it was hers."

Again, I didn't know what to say in that moment. I didn't want to tell the kids she has autism - they probably have no clue what that means, and I didn't need to further alienate her from them. In a pinch, I came up with, "Well, she doesn't always understand that a toy isn't hers. She's not as old as you might think she is."

"Well how old is she?" the little girl who brought her back to the bullying asked me. "Is she six?"

Apparently my Amazon child had fooled people once again. "No, she's four."

The little girl seemed unimpressed. "Well, my little sister is four. And she knows that some toys aren't hers."

OK, engaging these kids has clearly failed. Time to just make an exit, I thought. But then the older boy - that same chubby little ringleader who thought he was so much older and wiser than other kids, yet was teasing my daughter mercilessly - had to add one more statement to prove that he understood child psychology.

"Oh, I understand!" he cooed at me. "Little kids and babies don't get that there are toys that don't belong to them. You know...like dogs! She's just like a dog - doesn't know what is hers and what isn't."

At that point my rage was screaming in my head One swing! Just let me have one swing at him!! Meanwhile, I had ceased to breathe or move as I stood there and stared at him wide-eyed, as if he had two heads, one of which was a barking dog. Even my logic had given in, pointing out, Someday that kid is going to get his chubby little head knocked into a wall, and he will completely deserve it.

Finally wrestling my voluntary muscles back to my own control, I turned away from the mean kids and carried Cordy back to the other side of the play area. She buried her head in my neck, asking to go home. Aaron wasn't back yet, so I checked to make sure Mira was still OK and sat Cordy down next to me.

"I want my red car," she whined.

"Cordy, that car wasn't yours." I reminded her.

"It wasn't? I want to go play with my friends."

Damn, she didn't even realize they were teasing her. "Cordy, those kids weren't your friends. They were being mean to you."

Cordy looked confused. "They were?"

"Yes, sweetie. They were teasing you and laughing at you. They weren't being nice."

"Oh."

We're not even to kindergarten yet and I'm already stressed out about bullies. I want Cordy to have friends and be happy, but as it stands her social skills aren't very strong and kids, who pick up on any weakness, are quick to exploit hers. The only comfort at the moment is that she has no awareness that people are being mean to her - she is spared the hurt and the pain of being rejected by others. (While I currently bear the brunt of it.)

I know I can't protect her forever, but the social world of children is a harsh and cruel one, often shaping a person for a lifetime. I should know - I was a misfit child who endured being the outcast, and the scars still burn. It's probably because of my past that I worry so much about my daughter who isn't always on the same plane of reality as the rest of us. Winning popularity contests isn't my goal for her, but I do want her to have friends and know how to handle situations where other kids try to hurt her.

At this point in parenting, I feel lost. We're entering a phase of her life that I didn't do particularly well with, and she has additional challenges to make it even more difficult. I can't be there to pull her out of these situations all the time, and I can't even think of how scenes like this would end without me stepping in.

(And before anyone asks: No, I don't know where their parents were. A group of parents sitting right by the gang looked on without any concern. The mall play areas lean towards a Lord of the Flies atmosphere on weekends when older kids aren't in school. The majority of concerned parents have very young children, and hover over them continuously.)