If you hear wailing sirens in the Tamarac area after lunch on Wednesday afternoon, don't be alarmed - I'm sure they're only coming for me. September 9 is my baby's first day of pre-school.
How does this happen? I know it's a cliched question, but it truly feels like he's too young to be going anywhere without Mommy. However, I'm very aware of the real story within the story: he's perfectly ready; it's Mommy who's got the cold feet. And, thankfully, his first independent foray into the world is being facilitated by the very best person for the job.
Last year at this time, when I had a busy three-year-old, someone suggested I enroll him at Fun Time Kindergarten. I definitely wasn't ready to let him go that early, but I started asking around to find out what the place was like in preparation for the following year. I've talked to dozens of parents, and every single one of them has repeatedly sung the praises of Fun Time.
And not just, "yeah, it's a good pre-school" praises; kids who have spent a year or two with Miss Tammy have never forgotten her. They send her Christmas and birthday cards, they drop in to visit, and some even cry to go back to her class when starting Grade Primary. Imagine what a force you'd have to be in a child's life to account for that kind of admiration years after the fact! Stories like those I've been told are what gave me the confidence to send him this September.
Every night before bed, we tell him a story, and since I secured his spot in June, that story has had to be about school, as per his instructions. He's nothing if not a fan of repetition, so the story is basically the same every night.
"We'll get up in the morning and have breakfast, and then..."
"But Mom, what's for breakfast?"
"Lucky Charms, maybe. And then we'll put on a new shirt and new..."
"But Mom, what shirt?"
"Maybe the one with Mickey Mouse on it. So, after that we'll put on some new..."
"No, the one with Buzz Lightyear on it."
"Buzz Lightyear it is. So your new Buzz shirt, some new pants, new sneakers, and we have to remember your school bag."
"And we have to remember to put some extra clothes in my school bag 'cause in case I get dirty."
"Yes, we do. And then we'll get in the car..."
"No, I'm going on the bus!"
"No, honey, you can't go on the bus. Mommy has to drive you."
"NO!! I WANT TO GO ON THE BUS!! DAD SAID!!"
"Your father is dead meat when he gets home. Anyway, we'll talk about the bus later, ok?"
"Ok."
"So, we'll get to the school and who's going to be there?"
"Miss Tammy."
"And who else?"
"Miss Tina."
"And who else?"
"Lots of kids who are gonna be my new friends."
"Right. And then what do we do when we get to the school?"
"First, I have to hang my jacket up and my school bag, on the hook that has my name on it. Then I have to give you a big hug and a big kiss and go in the class and see everybody."
"Right, and where is Mommy going to be?"
"At the grocery store waiting to come pick me up."
"Right."
Every night for the past three months we've had that conversation. And as of Wednesday, it will be something he actually gets to do.
I know I should only be happy about his new adventure. He's going to learn so much this year, from socialization to songs to writing his name. He's going to go on field trips, make crafts, and get progress reports. I'll even get to see the cutest graduation ceremony ever at the end of the year. What makes me nervous is being without him.
We play a lot. We crank the music and dance around the house when it's time for me to clean up. We make a huge mess baking cookies and he helps me dry the dishes when we're done. We go to the park and the mall, we play super heroes and cars, and sometimes we just watch TV. But, whatever I'm doing on any given day during the week, I'm used to doing it with him.
It's going to be really difficult to get used to him going on an adventure without me, but I'm leaving him in good hands. My baby's not a baby anymore.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
The Common Goal
In Canada, when someone decides to have a baby, it's a often a complex decision. Aside from the various social factors that have to be considered, the big question always comes up: "Can we afford it?" Food, diapers, child care, clothing, college - all those things add up fast. But, luckily, one thing we never have to wonder or worry about is the actual up-front cost of pregnancy and childbirth.
If I had been living in Maine four years ago, here's roughly what it would have cost me to have my son: $1400 for pre-natal appointments, $6200 for the birth itself, another $2400 for a 2 day hospital stay, $600 for ultrasounds, and $250 for a post-natal check-up. The total is $10,850, and that's for a run-of-the-mill pregnancy. Any mother or baby complications or health issues make that number skyrocket.
Arrangements can usually be made to pay the bill over time, and the average cost of a monthly post-partum hospital bill is $800. Imagine that. On top of stress, pain, discomfort, sleep deprivation, and the sometimes staggering everyday cost of this new human in your house, you're also faced with an extra $800 bill every month.
Health care is absurdly expensive in the United States, and childbirth is only one example. If you have a broken ankle, it's going to cost you, from the doctor's treatment, to the X-ray, to the cast. If you need stitches, that's going to cost you. Even if you go see a doctor and there turns out to be nothing wrong, that's going to cost you, too. If you go to the emergency room without health insurance, they can (and often will) refuse to treat you.
Living in Nova Scotia, it's hard for us to wrap our heads around paying for health care. This isn't to say we take advantage of our system (for the most part), only that we can't imagine a world where anyone is sick because they can't afford to make themselves well. That's not the kind of people we are around here. We have fundraising benefits to help those who have fallen on hard times, and often put ourselves out, if only temporarily and on a small scale, for the sake of someone else.
So, is that the root of the U.S. health care crisis? That American citizens are so selfish they'd see their neighbors suffer before giving up an ounce of personal comfort and security? Or, are they so fearful of government control that they're willing to settle for health industry corruption for the sake of avoiding some perceived socialism?
I'm don't subscribe to Michael Moore's politics in most cases, and I usually disagree with his method of delivery, but his movie "SICKO" is one of the most compelling films I've ever seen. It examines health care models in Canada, France, Mexico, and other countries, and compares them to the United States. It shows us milling in and out of doctor's offices and emergency rooms without paying a cent. It shows the French enjoying their paid, mandatory 8-week illness recuperation time. And between the personal accounts of poverty causing death and bankruptcy due to sickness in the U.S., there was a noticeable tone and attitude among American taxpayers throughout the movie: they want and need things to change.
That's why I am annoyed at the opposition to President Obama's proposed health care plan. The same people who crave change are preventing it for reasons that, quite frankly, are petty and just plain not good enough.
Sure, maybe it's a good idea for health care to be regulated on a state level. Maybe a government run, tax-exempt system would damage the private sector irreparably. There are probably dozens of provisions in the proposed Bill which need to be tweaked and even a few that have to be completely re-written.
The point is, for the first time in a very long time, someone in power is trying to put in place a system which would help the most unfortunate Americans and avoid negatively impacting the others. Obama is not perfect, but his intentions are clear - health care for all, so as to eliminate the current, long-standing crisis. And what does he get for his efforts? Resistance from Conservatives at every turn, bad press, and even heckling in an open session of Congress.
It's time for Americans to forget about partisan politics for long enough to look at the big picture. Representatives from both sides of the aisle are capable of putting a system in place that will truly help people, and it's about time they get their acts together and do it, with Obama leading the way. No one should be sick just because they're broke.
If I had been living in Maine four years ago, here's roughly what it would have cost me to have my son: $1400 for pre-natal appointments, $6200 for the birth itself, another $2400 for a 2 day hospital stay, $600 for ultrasounds, and $250 for a post-natal check-up. The total is $10,850, and that's for a run-of-the-mill pregnancy. Any mother or baby complications or health issues make that number skyrocket.
Arrangements can usually be made to pay the bill over time, and the average cost of a monthly post-partum hospital bill is $800. Imagine that. On top of stress, pain, discomfort, sleep deprivation, and the sometimes staggering everyday cost of this new human in your house, you're also faced with an extra $800 bill every month.
Health care is absurdly expensive in the United States, and childbirth is only one example. If you have a broken ankle, it's going to cost you, from the doctor's treatment, to the X-ray, to the cast. If you need stitches, that's going to cost you. Even if you go see a doctor and there turns out to be nothing wrong, that's going to cost you, too. If you go to the emergency room without health insurance, they can (and often will) refuse to treat you.
Living in Nova Scotia, it's hard for us to wrap our heads around paying for health care. This isn't to say we take advantage of our system (for the most part), only that we can't imagine a world where anyone is sick because they can't afford to make themselves well. That's not the kind of people we are around here. We have fundraising benefits to help those who have fallen on hard times, and often put ourselves out, if only temporarily and on a small scale, for the sake of someone else.
So, is that the root of the U.S. health care crisis? That American citizens are so selfish they'd see their neighbors suffer before giving up an ounce of personal comfort and security? Or, are they so fearful of government control that they're willing to settle for health industry corruption for the sake of avoiding some perceived socialism?
I'm don't subscribe to Michael Moore's politics in most cases, and I usually disagree with his method of delivery, but his movie "SICKO" is one of the most compelling films I've ever seen. It examines health care models in Canada, France, Mexico, and other countries, and compares them to the United States. It shows us milling in and out of doctor's offices and emergency rooms without paying a cent. It shows the French enjoying their paid, mandatory 8-week illness recuperation time. And between the personal accounts of poverty causing death and bankruptcy due to sickness in the U.S., there was a noticeable tone and attitude among American taxpayers throughout the movie: they want and need things to change.
That's why I am annoyed at the opposition to President Obama's proposed health care plan. The same people who crave change are preventing it for reasons that, quite frankly, are petty and just plain not good enough.
Sure, maybe it's a good idea for health care to be regulated on a state level. Maybe a government run, tax-exempt system would damage the private sector irreparably. There are probably dozens of provisions in the proposed Bill which need to be tweaked and even a few that have to be completely re-written.
The point is, for the first time in a very long time, someone in power is trying to put in place a system which would help the most unfortunate Americans and avoid negatively impacting the others. Obama is not perfect, but his intentions are clear - health care for all, so as to eliminate the current, long-standing crisis. And what does he get for his efforts? Resistance from Conservatives at every turn, bad press, and even heckling in an open session of Congress.
It's time for Americans to forget about partisan politics for long enough to look at the big picture. Representatives from both sides of the aisle are capable of putting a system in place that will truly help people, and it's about time they get their acts together and do it, with Obama leading the way. No one should be sick just because they're broke.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Winning the Battle
There comes a time in every overweight person's life when enough is enough.
When you realize you're not getting any younger, and you don't want to be fat and inactive and useless throughout your thirties, nor do you want to be riddled with weight-related health problems by the time you hit the big 4-0.
When you acknowledge that all your previous weight-loss "attempts" weren't really attempts at all, since going on that worthless soup diet or eating nothing for days to fit into that dress for your friend's wedding, was just a quick fix and not really a commitment.
When you stop making excuses about exercising and realize that your hour-long Big Brother watch-a-thon could be just as easily spent walking in place in your living room as it is sitting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn.
When you figure out that body-slimming undergarments don't actually make you smaller, they just redistribute fat to places it wasn't before.
When watching televised accounts of incredible weight loss becomes less about drowning your "why can't that be me" sorrows in a Big Mac and throwing the remote at the finale of The Biggest Loser, and more about motivation and inspiration.
When you can no longer call it "baby weight", especially since your baby is able to tell you that, "Mommy, you have too much chubbs on your butt."
When you resign yourself to not having a "cheat day", since people with as little discipline as you do have become the size they are because of willy-nilly cheat days that spiral into cheat months.
When you stop blaming your thyroid problem for the way you look and realize your weight is of your own doing (I have a serious thyroid problem - in fact, I'm guilty of using the excuse myself - and I can tell you with certainty that a thyroid problem, even one as out-of-whack as mine, does not cause a 50lb weight gain. You can't eat deep-fried wings and laze around your house and still blame your weight on your thyroid.).
When you reach the conclusion that losing weight is a simple formula of burning more calories than you take in, and that even the fancy and expensive "miracle pill/supplement/concoction" isn't going to solve your problems for the long term.
When you finally admit that french fries aren't vegetables just because they're made from potatoes.
When enough is just enough, plain and simple. I've reached that point.
Being fat sucks. I've spent that past 12 years complaining about how much it sucks, yet I've failed to sincerely try to do anything about it. I've even written about it with the best of intentions of losing weight, but my words never concretely translated into actions.
I quit pop in mid-January, my biggest hurdle, and haven't touched a drop since. And, though I did see minimal results, I didn't change my eating habits. I went on a diet at the end of April, but through the chaos of kids' birthdays, the end of school, vacations, and many excuses, I fell off the wagon a month later.
Then I got on the scale. Yikes. That was "the point", and I haven't looked back since. All I had to change was my attitude.
I no longer feel a bitterness toward skinny people, food, or exercise. I don't harbour feelings of deprivation and resentment because I can't get a Blizzard, instead I feel strong and proud how I'm able to resist the temptation. I don't curse my husband's late night snack, I look at it with relief that it's not entering my stomach and disrupting my steady course.
I put a sign on my fridge that says, "you're only cheating yourself", along with two pictures: one of myself and one of Jessica Simpson.
Aside from the occasional glass of milk or juice, the only thing I drink is water. I have completely (and unbelievably) cut ice cream out of my life. Other junk food and sweets are cut to an absolute minimum, though not eliminated entirely. I make sure to eat breakfast every morning. I have a filling supper without stuffing myself up to the eyeballs. And I never eat anything after supper is over - not a carrot stick, not a cracker, nothing. Those are my changes, and it's working.
I've lost 35lbs because of those very do-able and realistic changes. The point I'm trying to make is, if I can do it, anyone reading this can do it, too. I was the best of the best excuse makers; the thyroid patient; the busy mom; the "did you hear about that new pill" queen; the chronic complainer. Not anymore, no more excuses.
And I've never felt better.
When you realize you're not getting any younger, and you don't want to be fat and inactive and useless throughout your thirties, nor do you want to be riddled with weight-related health problems by the time you hit the big 4-0.
When you acknowledge that all your previous weight-loss "attempts" weren't really attempts at all, since going on that worthless soup diet or eating nothing for days to fit into that dress for your friend's wedding, was just a quick fix and not really a commitment.
When you stop making excuses about exercising and realize that your hour-long Big Brother watch-a-thon could be just as easily spent walking in place in your living room as it is sitting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn.
When you figure out that body-slimming undergarments don't actually make you smaller, they just redistribute fat to places it wasn't before.
When watching televised accounts of incredible weight loss becomes less about drowning your "why can't that be me" sorrows in a Big Mac and throwing the remote at the finale of The Biggest Loser, and more about motivation and inspiration.
When you can no longer call it "baby weight", especially since your baby is able to tell you that, "Mommy, you have too much chubbs on your butt."
When you resign yourself to not having a "cheat day", since people with as little discipline as you do have become the size they are because of willy-nilly cheat days that spiral into cheat months.
When you stop blaming your thyroid problem for the way you look and realize your weight is of your own doing (I have a serious thyroid problem - in fact, I'm guilty of using the excuse myself - and I can tell you with certainty that a thyroid problem, even one as out-of-whack as mine, does not cause a 50lb weight gain. You can't eat deep-fried wings and laze around your house and still blame your weight on your thyroid.).
When you reach the conclusion that losing weight is a simple formula of burning more calories than you take in, and that even the fancy and expensive "miracle pill/supplement/concoction" isn't going to solve your problems for the long term.
When you finally admit that french fries aren't vegetables just because they're made from potatoes.
When enough is just enough, plain and simple. I've reached that point.
Being fat sucks. I've spent that past 12 years complaining about how much it sucks, yet I've failed to sincerely try to do anything about it. I've even written about it with the best of intentions of losing weight, but my words never concretely translated into actions.
I quit pop in mid-January, my biggest hurdle, and haven't touched a drop since. And, though I did see minimal results, I didn't change my eating habits. I went on a diet at the end of April, but through the chaos of kids' birthdays, the end of school, vacations, and many excuses, I fell off the wagon a month later.
Then I got on the scale. Yikes. That was "the point", and I haven't looked back since. All I had to change was my attitude.
I no longer feel a bitterness toward skinny people, food, or exercise. I don't harbour feelings of deprivation and resentment because I can't get a Blizzard, instead I feel strong and proud how I'm able to resist the temptation. I don't curse my husband's late night snack, I look at it with relief that it's not entering my stomach and disrupting my steady course.
I put a sign on my fridge that says, "you're only cheating yourself", along with two pictures: one of myself and one of Jessica Simpson.
Aside from the occasional glass of milk or juice, the only thing I drink is water. I have completely (and unbelievably) cut ice cream out of my life. Other junk food and sweets are cut to an absolute minimum, though not eliminated entirely. I make sure to eat breakfast every morning. I have a filling supper without stuffing myself up to the eyeballs. And I never eat anything after supper is over - not a carrot stick, not a cracker, nothing. Those are my changes, and it's working.
I've lost 35lbs because of those very do-able and realistic changes. The point I'm trying to make is, if I can do it, anyone reading this can do it, too. I was the best of the best excuse makers; the thyroid patient; the busy mom; the "did you hear about that new pill" queen; the chronic complainer. Not anymore, no more excuses.
And I've never felt better.
And the Winner is....
On Thursday evening, I attended the Festival of the Strait Princess Pageant at the mall. Great job, girls!
I miss the days when pageants were the centerpiece of a summer festival. Picture the Scooby-Doo dream-sequence effects, and bear with me.
The annual River Bourgeois community festival used to be a really big deal, and every year it began with the princess pageant.
Those in attendance for the packed-house Saturday night affair were probably oblivious to the meticulous preparation required for the show to go on. The contestants had, by this time, found sponsors (businesses and organizations to donate money for the girl's sash and other pageant-y things). They had already posed for the all-important Reporter photo shoot, where their picture would appear in a full-page spread opposite the festival schedule, noting their name, sponsor, and parents' names (so all the older women could say, "you know Lisa, at Joe-Jim's"). They had even attended a "tea", where they practiced their best smiles and manners at a get-together with the judges. It was all very serious business, especially to the girls who, like me, were too young to participate.
When the lights dimmed, a Master of Ceremonies announced the procession and the hall filled with more chiffon and frills than I care to remember, as was the style of "teenager fancy dress" back then. The girls, usually more than a dozen of them, filed up the center aisle, introduced themselves briefly ("Hi, I'm Lisa Smith and my sponsor is J&C Take-Out!"), and took their place on stage.
Once the judges had been introduced, it was time to get down to business. Each girl would give a more thorough introduction, telling everyone their age, grade, perhaps what they liked to do, what career they intended to pursue, things like that.
After the introductions came speeches. The topic was up in the air, completely up to each contestant, and it was always interesting to hear what the girls chose to talk about (even though the delivery mattered more than the content).
When the speech portion was complete, the girls would head downstairs to prepare for the talent competition. There were usually singers, dancers and piano players, but every year had a wild card - whether it be demonstrating a cadet Drill Team routine, or teaching the crowd how to cross-stitch. After everyone had shown their talent, the girls went to sweat it out downstairs while the judges made their decisions and the audience mingled and chowed down on coffee, tea and sweets. (For the record, River Bourgeois hall sweets are still in my top five favorite foods of all time.)
Eventually, the MC would inform the masses to be seated, the results were in. The crowd buzzed in anticipation every time and you could cut the tension with a knife; well not really, but I want to make it clear how intense a scene it was. The contestants nervously took the stage, the previous year's Queen took her mark in the wings after her swan-walk, and the envelope was handed over.
Miss Friendship, decided by the girls earlier in the evening by secret ballot, was announced first, followed by the expected squeals and hugs, and awarding of the trophies, flowers, and other pageant swag. The first winner was followed by 2nd Runner-Up, 1st Runner-Up, and finally Queen. It was all very climactic and wonderful, and I'll never forget it.
The very first pageant I attended was in 1984, where I met my future-best friend, Amy Doary, for the very first time. We were both very impressed with the pomp and circumstance of the whole thing, and our 5-year-old heads were just about spinning. We swore we'd be in it one day, and we would have - if only pageants hadn't become pretty much obsolete sometime after 1995.
Someone must have decided that being a teenager in a pageant was uncool, and that's a shame. Not only are they great confidence builders for girls at a crucial age, but they're a showcase of talent, a platform to experience public speaking and an excuse to dress up like a princess for a day other than prom.
Most of all, it's an excellent opportunity to bring a community together. Everyone is busier these days, and our local festivals are visibly suffering, with attendance, participation and volunteer numbers lower than they've been in years.
I'd love to see a big pageant in every festival, and a rightful Queen take her seat at the front of a parade float. It's something I'll always miss watching, and I hope someday they become "cool" again. (If there are any girls between 14-18 interested in participating next year, get in touch with me and I'll certainly be willing to help put it together.)
I miss the days when pageants were the centerpiece of a summer festival. Picture the Scooby-Doo dream-sequence effects, and bear with me.
The annual River Bourgeois community festival used to be a really big deal, and every year it began with the princess pageant.
Those in attendance for the packed-house Saturday night affair were probably oblivious to the meticulous preparation required for the show to go on. The contestants had, by this time, found sponsors (businesses and organizations to donate money for the girl's sash and other pageant-y things). They had already posed for the all-important Reporter photo shoot, where their picture would appear in a full-page spread opposite the festival schedule, noting their name, sponsor, and parents' names (so all the older women could say, "you know Lisa, at Joe-Jim's"). They had even attended a "tea", where they practiced their best smiles and manners at a get-together with the judges. It was all very serious business, especially to the girls who, like me, were too young to participate.
When the lights dimmed, a Master of Ceremonies announced the procession and the hall filled with more chiffon and frills than I care to remember, as was the style of "teenager fancy dress" back then. The girls, usually more than a dozen of them, filed up the center aisle, introduced themselves briefly ("Hi, I'm Lisa Smith and my sponsor is J&C Take-Out!"), and took their place on stage.
Once the judges had been introduced, it was time to get down to business. Each girl would give a more thorough introduction, telling everyone their age, grade, perhaps what they liked to do, what career they intended to pursue, things like that.
After the introductions came speeches. The topic was up in the air, completely up to each contestant, and it was always interesting to hear what the girls chose to talk about (even though the delivery mattered more than the content).
When the speech portion was complete, the girls would head downstairs to prepare for the talent competition. There were usually singers, dancers and piano players, but every year had a wild card - whether it be demonstrating a cadet Drill Team routine, or teaching the crowd how to cross-stitch. After everyone had shown their talent, the girls went to sweat it out downstairs while the judges made their decisions and the audience mingled and chowed down on coffee, tea and sweets. (For the record, River Bourgeois hall sweets are still in my top five favorite foods of all time.)
Eventually, the MC would inform the masses to be seated, the results were in. The crowd buzzed in anticipation every time and you could cut the tension with a knife; well not really, but I want to make it clear how intense a scene it was. The contestants nervously took the stage, the previous year's Queen took her mark in the wings after her swan-walk, and the envelope was handed over.
Miss Friendship, decided by the girls earlier in the evening by secret ballot, was announced first, followed by the expected squeals and hugs, and awarding of the trophies, flowers, and other pageant swag. The first winner was followed by 2nd Runner-Up, 1st Runner-Up, and finally Queen. It was all very climactic and wonderful, and I'll never forget it.
The very first pageant I attended was in 1984, where I met my future-best friend, Amy Doary, for the very first time. We were both very impressed with the pomp and circumstance of the whole thing, and our 5-year-old heads were just about spinning. We swore we'd be in it one day, and we would have - if only pageants hadn't become pretty much obsolete sometime after 1995.
Someone must have decided that being a teenager in a pageant was uncool, and that's a shame. Not only are they great confidence builders for girls at a crucial age, but they're a showcase of talent, a platform to experience public speaking and an excuse to dress up like a princess for a day other than prom.
Most of all, it's an excellent opportunity to bring a community together. Everyone is busier these days, and our local festivals are visibly suffering, with attendance, participation and volunteer numbers lower than they've been in years.
I'd love to see a big pageant in every festival, and a rightful Queen take her seat at the front of a parade float. It's something I'll always miss watching, and I hope someday they become "cool" again. (If there are any girls between 14-18 interested in participating next year, get in touch with me and I'll certainly be willing to help put it together.)
Monday, July 13, 2009
Facebook Etiquette, Part 3
Welcome to the final installment of Facebook 101.
Pictures are a huge component of this site we love so dearly, so if you're going to partake, make an honest effort at doing it properly. Labelling your photos is always nice. A simple "Sam & Me in the delivery room" might seem obvious to you, but it could mean all the difference to someone dying to congratulate you, but who can't for the life of them remember your husband's name. And, that gelatinous pink blob might look like an exotic jellyfish to you, but without a label, it looks like sea junk to me.
For those of you who have so few friends (family members, acquaintances, other nearby humans capable of operating a camera) that you must resort to taking your own picture, please heed these warnings: Do not hold the camera in front of the bathroom mirror. Why the bathroom?? It's always in the bathroom! (Very astute observation, Kelly.) Also, don't make the pouty face. The "I'm-giving-you-a-kiss-through-my-low-end-model-flip-phone" face. And whatever you do, NEVER combine the two.
A few words about statuses. There is really no need to update your status more than a few times per day, even on an extrordinarily eventful day.
Furthermore, cryptic status updates like, "Sue wonders if her secret will get out," and "Timmy will get through this," do not make you seem mysterious. They point to desperation and attention-seeking.
Finally, never "like" and comment on the same status. The act of commenting alone indicates your interest in that status, so "liking" it is redundant and just sends an unnecessary notification.
Perhaps the most complicated Facebook situation one might face, for both parties, is the issue of "defriending". For starters, let it be said that it's perfectly acceptable to pare down your friend list from time to time; sometimes it becomes necessary, especially after a rush of ill-considered friend requests. There are people who belong on your list and people who don't, and that's just the way it is.
There are people who, unless they've been inappropriate in some way, you're obligated to keep on your list. People like relatives, spouse's relatives, and co-workers. Even if they send you some annoying gift with every message ("Here, friend, please enjoy this virtual chocolate teddy bear at the bottom of my inbox greeting").
This, however, is where loyalty and obligation pretty much stops and people start to become expendable. There are definite circumstances that necessitate a friend's removal, like consistent inappropriate language or information being posted on your wall. Another reason might be lack of communication. If, for example, you become friends with someone who has never responded to any direct message, post, comment, status, or anything else, you can justifiably eliminate that person from your list after a reasonable period.
Don't be tempted to clean house, though. It may seem appealing to rid your list of anyone you haven't spoken to on a regular basis or who doesn't have a lot of Facebook activity, but you don't know when you might need that girl in order to gain access to pictures of her really cool and unique wedding pictures, or to catch a glimpse of her sister's tremendous weight gain that everyone is telling you about. Weed, but don't tear up the whole garden.
Now, what to do in the terribly awkward situation of post-defriending run-ins, you might ask. Before you defriend, be prepared to never have the occasion to speak to that person face to face again. You've banished them from your Facebook world, and always assume they've already noticed. You now have no choice but to avoid them like the plague when you see them at the grocery store, and here's a tip: if you should happen to accidentally bump into them, the old, "oh really? yeah, there's something wrong with my Facebook account, a bunch of my friends just disappeared" excuse doesn't work anymore. People know better.
One day, you might find that you've been defriended by someone as well. Make no mistake, it was no accident, and re-adding that person is an insult to your integrity. You must swallow your pride and move on, and don't even bother wondering why. NEVER send them a message asking them.
And there you have it, three whole articles to help you navigate Facebook with the confidence of knowing you're doing it right. Take each suggestion with a grain of salt, though, since contributors to the Facebook series have all been guilty of their own faux-pas, I'm sure.
If I can leave you with one final piece of advice, it is this: never drunk-Facebook. You're just asking for trouble.
Pictures are a huge component of this site we love so dearly, so if you're going to partake, make an honest effort at doing it properly. Labelling your photos is always nice. A simple "Sam & Me in the delivery room" might seem obvious to you, but it could mean all the difference to someone dying to congratulate you, but who can't for the life of them remember your husband's name. And, that gelatinous pink blob might look like an exotic jellyfish to you, but without a label, it looks like sea junk to me.
For those of you who have so few friends (family members, acquaintances, other nearby humans capable of operating a camera) that you must resort to taking your own picture, please heed these warnings: Do not hold the camera in front of the bathroom mirror. Why the bathroom?? It's always in the bathroom! (Very astute observation, Kelly.) Also, don't make the pouty face. The "I'm-giving-you-a-kiss-through-my-low-end-model-flip-phone" face. And whatever you do, NEVER combine the two.
A few words about statuses. There is really no need to update your status more than a few times per day, even on an extrordinarily eventful day.
Furthermore, cryptic status updates like, "Sue wonders if her secret will get out," and "Timmy will get through this," do not make you seem mysterious. They point to desperation and attention-seeking.
Finally, never "like" and comment on the same status. The act of commenting alone indicates your interest in that status, so "liking" it is redundant and just sends an unnecessary notification.
Perhaps the most complicated Facebook situation one might face, for both parties, is the issue of "defriending". For starters, let it be said that it's perfectly acceptable to pare down your friend list from time to time; sometimes it becomes necessary, especially after a rush of ill-considered friend requests. There are people who belong on your list and people who don't, and that's just the way it is.
There are people who, unless they've been inappropriate in some way, you're obligated to keep on your list. People like relatives, spouse's relatives, and co-workers. Even if they send you some annoying gift with every message ("Here, friend, please enjoy this virtual chocolate teddy bear at the bottom of my inbox greeting").
This, however, is where loyalty and obligation pretty much stops and people start to become expendable. There are definite circumstances that necessitate a friend's removal, like consistent inappropriate language or information being posted on your wall. Another reason might be lack of communication. If, for example, you become friends with someone who has never responded to any direct message, post, comment, status, or anything else, you can justifiably eliminate that person from your list after a reasonable period.
Don't be tempted to clean house, though. It may seem appealing to rid your list of anyone you haven't spoken to on a regular basis or who doesn't have a lot of Facebook activity, but you don't know when you might need that girl in order to gain access to pictures of her really cool and unique wedding pictures, or to catch a glimpse of her sister's tremendous weight gain that everyone is telling you about. Weed, but don't tear up the whole garden.
Now, what to do in the terribly awkward situation of post-defriending run-ins, you might ask. Before you defriend, be prepared to never have the occasion to speak to that person face to face again. You've banished them from your Facebook world, and always assume they've already noticed. You now have no choice but to avoid them like the plague when you see them at the grocery store, and here's a tip: if you should happen to accidentally bump into them, the old, "oh really? yeah, there's something wrong with my Facebook account, a bunch of my friends just disappeared" excuse doesn't work anymore. People know better.
One day, you might find that you've been defriended by someone as well. Make no mistake, it was no accident, and re-adding that person is an insult to your integrity. You must swallow your pride and move on, and don't even bother wondering why. NEVER send them a message asking them.
And there you have it, three whole articles to help you navigate Facebook with the confidence of knowing you're doing it right. Take each suggestion with a grain of salt, though, since contributors to the Facebook series have all been guilty of their own faux-pas, I'm sure.
If I can leave you with one final piece of advice, it is this: never drunk-Facebook. You're just asking for trouble.
Facebook Etiquette, Part 2
Last week, I laid down the basic rules of a positive and successful Facebook experience. This week, I'll discuss a few rules and guidelines that target more specific problem areas, ones even veteran Facebookers might not be aware of.
To start with, while the very existence of Facebook encourages sharing personal information, airing grievances is best saved for private phone calls and personal confrontations. Starting a "Jane Finch is a dirty hoser" group is not the way to go about things. Likewise, I don't need to see a bunch of four-letter words in your status, or pictures of your best girlfriend pretend-spanking you at a pub crawl. Neither does your boss.
Of my research into the topic of Facebook pet peeves, this one earned a landslide victory: STOP TAKING QUIZZES. Nobody cares what Twilight character or literary time period you are. No one cares which Spice Girl you resemble or what color your aura is. Really - stop. And anyway, why would you want to know that? What purpose does having that information serve in your life? And what purpose do you think it will serve in my News Feed, cluttering up all the important stuff with sparkly ponies and astrological signs?? (In case you couldn't tell, that was a direct quote from a friend of mine. It was too succinct to modify.)
On a related note, the "when will I get married/how many babies will I have/how will I die" calculators are not scientifically accurate, just so you know.
Joining too many groups cheapens the value of your membership in the ones you actually care about, so think twice before becoming a member of "Please bring back Tart n' Tinys, Wonka company". (I know Tart n' Tinys rocked your socks off - mine, too. But, at least save your confectionery loyalty for a far superior candy like Punkys.) (Wow, talk about digressing.) What I mean is, no one will value the opinion of a "CTV Atlantic Newstalk" contributor if they're also a member of "Eminems new album sux, and no I'm not a hater it just does".
Don't invite people to events if they don't live in the same province. I, a resident of Cape Breton, will not be attending your poetry recital in Saskatoon next Tuesday night, girl I went to elementary school with. Did you really think I would?
STOP YELLING AT ME LIKE THIS.
A unilateral relationship status change, on top of being immature and unfair, will only result in confusion for everyone. Make it a mutual decision, especially before you announce you're in a new relationship or informing someone you're filing for divorce. If you handle your relationship status with grace and poise, people will say, "Hey, that person is pretty responsible with his/her use of Facebook in a relationship setting", increasing your odds of finding another potential mate.
FYI: if you have somehow gained access to the Facebook profile of an ex/ex's new flame/other person in whom you should have no interest anyway, you're a creeper. If you return more than twice, you're a stalker, so stop. Facebook stalkers are not cool.
I am not even remotely interested in zombie/bumper sticker/graffiti/pet-raising/friend-buying/game-playing/green patch/gift-giving applications, and one would think that preference would be clear after me ignoring your invitation fifteen times.
Growing a baby in a virtual clay pot is all kinds of wrong.
Speaking of babies (and this rule also applies to pets and cars), posting 56 pictures of your sleeping, immobile newborn might fill your heart with parental pride, but it does nothing for most others. One would have been fine, two perfectly acceptable, even three if you're really worked up. But an album full? C'mon. Wait until the baby is at least capable of an expression.
Also, probably not a great idea to post pictures of your baby in the bathtub. You don't know what kind of weirdos might be scoping out your pictures, even if you think your privacy settings are iron-clad.
Try to comment selectively on your friends' pictures. The one-two-three picture-posting rule loosely applies to this as well. If you have something notable to say about a particular picture, by all means, leave your two cents. But, there's nothing worse than seeing 34 notifications, clicking on the little red flag, and seeing that Aunt Mary Lou has committed the mortal Facebook sin of severe over-commenting. Not only is it a buzz kill (ooh!! ooh! I wonder who left comments on my.....Oh. Aunt Mary Lou. Again.), but then I have to read "wow" and "cute" and "looks like fun" a tedious 34 times.
When I started writing about Facebook etiquette, little did I know that the material would span not one, not two, but three whole articles. I'll conclude next week.
To start with, while the very existence of Facebook encourages sharing personal information, airing grievances is best saved for private phone calls and personal confrontations. Starting a "Jane Finch is a dirty hoser" group is not the way to go about things. Likewise, I don't need to see a bunch of four-letter words in your status, or pictures of your best girlfriend pretend-spanking you at a pub crawl. Neither does your boss.
Of my research into the topic of Facebook pet peeves, this one earned a landslide victory: STOP TAKING QUIZZES. Nobody cares what Twilight character or literary time period you are. No one cares which Spice Girl you resemble or what color your aura is. Really - stop. And anyway, why would you want to know that? What purpose does having that information serve in your life? And what purpose do you think it will serve in my News Feed, cluttering up all the important stuff with sparkly ponies and astrological signs?? (In case you couldn't tell, that was a direct quote from a friend of mine. It was too succinct to modify.)
On a related note, the "when will I get married/how many babies will I have/how will I die" calculators are not scientifically accurate, just so you know.
Joining too many groups cheapens the value of your membership in the ones you actually care about, so think twice before becoming a member of "Please bring back Tart n' Tinys, Wonka company". (I know Tart n' Tinys rocked your socks off - mine, too. But, at least save your confectionery loyalty for a far superior candy like Punkys.) (Wow, talk about digressing.) What I mean is, no one will value the opinion of a "CTV Atlantic Newstalk" contributor if they're also a member of "Eminems new album sux, and no I'm not a hater it just does".
Don't invite people to events if they don't live in the same province. I, a resident of Cape Breton, will not be attending your poetry recital in Saskatoon next Tuesday night, girl I went to elementary school with. Did you really think I would?
STOP YELLING AT ME LIKE THIS.
A unilateral relationship status change, on top of being immature and unfair, will only result in confusion for everyone. Make it a mutual decision, especially before you announce you're in a new relationship or informing someone you're filing for divorce. If you handle your relationship status with grace and poise, people will say, "Hey, that person is pretty responsible with his/her use of Facebook in a relationship setting", increasing your odds of finding another potential mate.
FYI: if you have somehow gained access to the Facebook profile of an ex/ex's new flame/other person in whom you should have no interest anyway, you're a creeper. If you return more than twice, you're a stalker, so stop. Facebook stalkers are not cool.
I am not even remotely interested in zombie/bumper sticker/graffiti/pet-raising/friend-buying/game-playing/green patch/gift-giving applications, and one would think that preference would be clear after me ignoring your invitation fifteen times.
Growing a baby in a virtual clay pot is all kinds of wrong.
Speaking of babies (and this rule also applies to pets and cars), posting 56 pictures of your sleeping, immobile newborn might fill your heart with parental pride, but it does nothing for most others. One would have been fine, two perfectly acceptable, even three if you're really worked up. But an album full? C'mon. Wait until the baby is at least capable of an expression.
Also, probably not a great idea to post pictures of your baby in the bathtub. You don't know what kind of weirdos might be scoping out your pictures, even if you think your privacy settings are iron-clad.
Try to comment selectively on your friends' pictures. The one-two-three picture-posting rule loosely applies to this as well. If you have something notable to say about a particular picture, by all means, leave your two cents. But, there's nothing worse than seeing 34 notifications, clicking on the little red flag, and seeing that Aunt Mary Lou has committed the mortal Facebook sin of severe over-commenting. Not only is it a buzz kill (ooh!! ooh! I wonder who left comments on my.....Oh. Aunt Mary Lou. Again.), but then I have to read "wow" and "cute" and "looks like fun" a tedious 34 times.
When I started writing about Facebook etiquette, little did I know that the material would span not one, not two, but three whole articles. I'll conclude next week.
Facebook Etiquette, Part 1
Why didn't I think of this before?
I'm an enthusiastic Facebook participant, as are most of the people I know. To date, there are more than two hundred thousand registered users on the site - making it a breeding ground for social and behavioral faux-pas, especially with numerous format changes feeding the fire.
One would think, with such a huge population, Facebook would by now have some formal etiquette in place: cue Gina, along with some of her more vocal and opinionated Facebook friends, to deliver the goods. To be fair, these rules aren't necessarily all mine, remember that. The last thing I need are dozens of people throwing sheep at me.
Let's begin.
First of all, it's not Question-mark-book, it's Facebook. Get a picture. Assuming you're an established Facebooker and have already have pictures of yourself on your profile, then a shot of your puppy or your toes on the beach in Cuba will do. Something to differentiate yourself from the other question marks, if you please. An avatar, anything.
Unless you have no actual interaction with anyone on your friend list, your profile picture should actually look like you. I know, I looked skinnier and younger ten years ago, too - but putting up a good picture from 1999 isn't fooling anyone, and it creates suspicion and, ultimately, disappointment.
Put a little effort into building your profile. “I don’t read” is not a favorite book, just as “NEthing but country” isn’t favorite music.
A few words about friending (which is only a word in Facebook world. In every other circumstance, the correct verb would be "befriending". If you didn't know that already, we're probably not friends).
Knowing "of" a person (or even having met them) is not the equivilent of knowing them, and is not a susbstantial enough reason to friend them . For example: I hear Heidi Saarloos on the radio every day and have even met her briefly on one occasion, but since I do not know her, I have not sent her a friend request, even though we have friends in common. Get my drift? (Just using you as an example, Heidi. I'm sure you're lovely.)
Friending those who aren't your actual friends is a matter of personal choice, though it is generally frowned upon in the Facebook community, and fairly earns you to the title of "creeper" and the description of either "nosy" or "desperate to win the very lame 'I-have-the-most-Facebook-friends' competition".
If you must friend someone you don't know well, include a message explaining why you are doing so. For example, "Hi, I'm your roommate's cousin!" would suffice. (But wait, why would you want to be friends with your roommate's cousin? Weird...)
Friending someone you don't particularly like is also tacky. They know you only want to scrutinize their pictures, so maintain your dignity and don't bother. If you ignore this rule and they accept, fully expect them to do the same thing to you.
Never friend an ex-boyfriend/girlfriend unless you're prepared to see status updates and pictures that you probably don't want to see.
Writing on your own wall is somewhat of a "faux pas". People will look at the post with pity and think, "aw, she must be new."
Poking is the lowest form of Facebook communication and should be done sparingly and in moderation. There is absolutely no reason to body slam or throw a sheep at anyone.
If someone has sent you a message to which a reply is appropriate, do so in a timely fashion. Never read the message and decide to write back at a later time; that person will see your post-message Facebook activity, and your not making their message a priority might cause them tremendous insecurity. And then they might call you crying and ask if you're mad at them, which is at once ridiculous, terribly awkward, and a good reason to terminate the friendship (both on-line and in real-life).
Some messages are wall-appropriate, and some aren't, so know the difference. "Hey girl, I had a great time last weekend!" is a perfectly acceptable wall post. "Hey man, you were sooooo drunk when we left the strip club...who bailed you out?" - that's more message fare.
When posting pictures, make sure they're rotated in the right direction. If they aren't, no one will look at them, which completely defeats the purpose.
And by the way, it's cheating if you un-tag yourself in a picture just because you look bad. They got you fair and square, so be a good sport and let everyone else laugh. You'll have your chance, even if it doesn't involve the same person.
These are the more broad, sweeping rules that even beginners should know. Next week, we're really going to crack the whip.
I'm an enthusiastic Facebook participant, as are most of the people I know. To date, there are more than two hundred thousand registered users on the site - making it a breeding ground for social and behavioral faux-pas, especially with numerous format changes feeding the fire.
One would think, with such a huge population, Facebook would by now have some formal etiquette in place: cue Gina, along with some of her more vocal and opinionated Facebook friends, to deliver the goods. To be fair, these rules aren't necessarily all mine, remember that. The last thing I need are dozens of people throwing sheep at me.
Let's begin.
First of all, it's not Question-mark-book, it's Facebook. Get a picture. Assuming you're an established Facebooker and have already have pictures of yourself on your profile, then a shot of your puppy or your toes on the beach in Cuba will do. Something to differentiate yourself from the other question marks, if you please. An avatar, anything.
Unless you have no actual interaction with anyone on your friend list, your profile picture should actually look like you. I know, I looked skinnier and younger ten years ago, too - but putting up a good picture from 1999 isn't fooling anyone, and it creates suspicion and, ultimately, disappointment.
Put a little effort into building your profile. “I don’t read” is not a favorite book, just as “NEthing but country” isn’t favorite music.
A few words about friending (which is only a word in Facebook world. In every other circumstance, the correct verb would be "befriending". If you didn't know that already, we're probably not friends).
Knowing "of" a person (or even having met them) is not the equivilent of knowing them, and is not a susbstantial enough reason to friend them . For example: I hear Heidi Saarloos on the radio every day and have even met her briefly on one occasion, but since I do not know her, I have not sent her a friend request, even though we have friends in common. Get my drift? (Just using you as an example, Heidi. I'm sure you're lovely.)
Friending those who aren't your actual friends is a matter of personal choice, though it is generally frowned upon in the Facebook community, and fairly earns you to the title of "creeper" and the description of either "nosy" or "desperate to win the very lame 'I-have-the-most-Facebook-friends' competition".
If you must friend someone you don't know well, include a message explaining why you are doing so. For example, "Hi, I'm your roommate's cousin!" would suffice. (But wait, why would you want to be friends with your roommate's cousin? Weird...)
Friending someone you don't particularly like is also tacky. They know you only want to scrutinize their pictures, so maintain your dignity and don't bother. If you ignore this rule and they accept, fully expect them to do the same thing to you.
Never friend an ex-boyfriend/girlfriend unless you're prepared to see status updates and pictures that you probably don't want to see.
Writing on your own wall is somewhat of a "faux pas". People will look at the post with pity and think, "aw, she must be new."
Poking is the lowest form of Facebook communication and should be done sparingly and in moderation. There is absolutely no reason to body slam or throw a sheep at anyone.
If someone has sent you a message to which a reply is appropriate, do so in a timely fashion. Never read the message and decide to write back at a later time; that person will see your post-message Facebook activity, and your not making their message a priority might cause them tremendous insecurity. And then they might call you crying and ask if you're mad at them, which is at once ridiculous, terribly awkward, and a good reason to terminate the friendship (both on-line and in real-life).
Some messages are wall-appropriate, and some aren't, so know the difference. "Hey girl, I had a great time last weekend!" is a perfectly acceptable wall post. "Hey man, you were sooooo drunk when we left the strip club...who bailed you out?" - that's more message fare.
When posting pictures, make sure they're rotated in the right direction. If they aren't, no one will look at them, which completely defeats the purpose.
And by the way, it's cheating if you un-tag yourself in a picture just because you look bad. They got you fair and square, so be a good sport and let everyone else laugh. You'll have your chance, even if it doesn't involve the same person.
These are the more broad, sweeping rules that even beginners should know. Next week, we're really going to crack the whip.
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