What're you lookin' at? | Ramblings from a self-proclaimed yada yada yada...ist

Ten out of twelve ain't bad

After checking my campus mailbox yesterday, I was a little sad to see I'd lost two students during last week's add/drop period. The class must've varied too far from their expectations, which I completely understand, but still, wah.

It's so different being on the other side of the academic fence; as an undergraduate, I never gave a thought to the personal feelings of my professors. They always came to class prepared to share some big-picture insights about the world around us, and for the most part, I trusted their direction. How odd to think they must've started out the way I am now, navigating through material I have yet to master, trying to create an atmosphere conducive to thoughtful participation, worrying about filling class time. Which I did, by the way, and let me tell you, the time between 6:00 and 8:30 literally flew by. I only glanced at the clock on my cell phone a few times, and at one point I actually questioned whether or not we'd make it through my entire lesson.

Of course, I'm still discovering the many ways in which I can improve my teaching style. This week, I prepared for class the way I might've in graduate school: read, read, read and take lots of notes, with some extra attention paid to forming possible discussion questions for each chapter. However, being a diligent note-taker does not an expert make, so sometimes I'd repeat a concept or definition several times until I found the wording that seemed to make the most sense to my students, and even then I sometimes realized that my understanding of an idea wasn't as rock-solid as I thought.

This week was probably a bigger challenge than most will or should be, seeing as we primarily focused on technical resources available to bloggers, and my acquired knowledge in that area is self-taught and fair at best. There was an awkward moment when a student asked to see an example of a TrackBack and I didn't have one to show him. Normally I'd just pull up a Web site that featured what we were talking about, but you so rarely see this function used in the blogosphere--at least on the blogs I read--that finding one on the spot wasn't an option. Next came the brilliant idea that oh! I'll just log in to my TypePad account and create an entry with a TrackBack right now! Only that didn't work out, either, because apparently I'm an idiot. I'll definitely become better acquainted with TypePad's stellar customer knowledge base before next Thursday, because by George, I WILL make the TrackBack my bitch.

Despite my rookie mistakes, I consider last night a success. Teaching this class is a wonderful way to keep my mind occupied as my stomach continues to grow at an alarming rate, and it's hard to believe that by the time we wrap things up, Luke and I will be one month away from meeting our baby.

Here is The Belly at 25 weeks. No, I'm not carrying twins, thank you so much for asking and making me feel like a big fat cow.

But wait! I have more graphic goodness to share.

This little guy is Roxy, one of two kittens recently adopted by my family. Our beautiful German shepherd, Styx, was put to sleep back in January (on my birthday, which I so appreciated), and since then my mother's been lonely for animal companionship; when they learned my grandfather's cat had recently given birth, my sister Ryan convinced my father to bring two of them home for her, which surprised us all, because for YEARS my mom's talked about how much she hates cats and they can't be trusted and let me tell you about the time when Samantha was a newborn and I found one sitting on her face.

Viewed in that light, I suppose her "distaste" was somewhat warranted.

As it turns out, my mother quite enjoys felines when they're not threatening to suffocate one of her children. The one above is her favorite, I think. She named him Church. As in, the resurrected cat from Pet Sematary. Because that's not disturbing at all.

P.S. Is nobody interested in summing up part two of TLF? The soundtrack you'd receive in turn would be totally awesome, I promise.

Head of a Class

So, I've been trying to decide how to write about my first teaching experience. The chances of my students finding this site are pretty high, seeing as I'll probably share the link with them this Thursday when they provide me with URLs to their flashy new Blogger blogs, and I'm worried about what they'll think of a professor who has to take deep breaths and whisper Stuart Smalleyisms like "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me" to herself in the bathroom before she can put on a happy face and introduce herself to impressionable young vessels thirsty for knowledge.

However, the class is about blogging, and part of blogging involves being honest with your readers, so I decided that truth trumps dignity. Lucky for you.

The class went much better than I expected, though I really did give myself a pep talk beforehand. I left work after lunch that day and spent my afternoon hours tweaking handouts, flipping through books, and mentally trying to estimate how much time each activity would take. Since the class'll wrap up the week before Thanksgiving, I'm already shortchanging them three sessions' worth of Frema-style wisdom, so I was totally paranoid about my notes only getting me through the first twenty minutes of class and sitting there twiddling my thumbs while I figured out what to do next.

And it almost happened! For the first half of class, I had planned to introduce myself, take roll call, get a feel for everyone's expectations for the course, and read through the syllabus. That'll get me through the first hour, I thought, no problem.

I made it to 6:35.

FUUUCK.

I called for a quick break while I ran to the bathroom once again to collect myself and repeat all the deep-breathing exercises I'd relied on forty minutes earlier. Turns out I was the only one who left the room, because who really needs to stretch their legs after a half-hour of what was essentially academic small talk?

The second half of class involved reviewing basic blogging terminology, surfing some Web sites, and going over how to set up a blog on Blogger.com. I held on to my handout for dear life and pointed out various features on sites like Dooce, Amalah, and PostSecret (you guys, I would've never forgotten about PostSecret). I opened my Google reader to demonstrate how RSS feeds and newsreaders work, and we all enjoyed a good laugh at seeing the black-barred, boobalicious picture featured in one of Carrisa's entries. And suddenly it was ten to eight, and I was breathing a sigh of relief over making it through my first night on the job.

I wouldn't call myself polished just yet. I stumbled over my words at times, jumped onto a second train of thought before completely riding out the first one, and I repeated myself some. But overall I accomplished what I set out to do, which was to give students a clear picture of what my class would entail (lots of reading, lots of discussion, lots of presentations) and a brief introduction to the world they'll be spending so much time in over the next thirteen weeks. I'm glad I did, too, because several of my twelve (TWELVE! Do you realize how impressive that is for a small, private college? And an adjunct course at that?) students envisioned a workshop format with in-class writing exercises and computer lab time and all that creative jazz. Which, no, but that sounds pretty cool, too.

After class I ordered dinner at the campus's snack shop and invaded the home of my good friend, Maia, the English professor who asked me to teach the class in the first place and once served as my mentor while I interned and directed the college's publications department. She and her husband have been kind enough to offer their guest bedroom to me on the nights I teach so I don't have to drive ninety miles home in a state of bleary-eyed exhaustion. Freka and I are forever in their debt.

Getting through my first class relatively unscathed makes it easier to think about the next one. In the meantime, I'm trying to create a schedule for my non-day-job hours that provides the least amount of chaos to my household and mental well-being. The weekend was spent visiting with family (and sitting on the expressway for, oh, TWO AND A HALF HOURS, thank you Chicago traffic and northwest Indiana flooding), and I was adamant about returning to Indianapolis at an hour that would allow me to give the apartment a good once-over. I updated my Parents blog last night, and this evening I intend to hash out the majority of Thursday's lesson plan, but not before enjoying an early dinner and (Blockbuster) movie with Luke. Specifically, pork chops and The Lake House, the latter demonstrating the true depths of my husband's love. In return, I've allowed the first disc from the first season of 90210 to remain at the bottom of our online queue.

What can I say? I'm a giver.

Tragic Love Friday: I'm so glad we had this time together

Before I proceed with killing a Friday tradition many of us have grown to love, let me first say that last night's class went well. I accomplished everything on my to-do list and was able to fill up all but forty minutes of the two-and-a-half-hour session, which pleased me immensely because my primary fear was running out of material. And really, who doesn't expect the first day of an undergraduate class to let out early?

One down, twelve more to go.

This week has been so insanely busy that I'm not sure I'm in the right frame of mind to give TLF the send-off it deserves. I can't stop thinking about the Web site I need to update for work and the two entries I have to write for Parents.com sometime between now and 11:59 p.m. Saturday night. But know that I am so, so sad about its conclusion, because what good will Friday be without a serving of tragic love?

To keep things fair, I'd like to do the same thing for the sequel that I did for part one: hold a reader contest to determine who can produce the best summary. There will be a prize, but it won't be a 90210 box set because Geez Louise, didn't you hear I'm having a baby in December? Part Two soundtracks for everyone!

Be sure to send in your submission by Friday morning so I can post them later that day.

Under the circumstances, I don't think it's inappropriate of me to beg all TLF readers to post a comment today, if not for me, then for lil' Frema. God, she would've loved this.

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CHAPTER NINETEEN - KAYLA

I had failed. Michael hated me, Katherine couldn't stand me; Jenna was terribly bitter towards me. And I had ruined Kyle's life, and dragged Cassie into my plans, eliminating her chances at having love, a family, happiness. All those wrongdoings rested upon me; I blamed no one but myself.

The emptiness I felt engulfed me like the tide. I was lonely. I was also a burden to those around me. And I was going to subject another innocent child into all of this?

[Chin up, Kayla. The sun'll come out tomorrow. It's only a day away.]

Cassie was out at work, and Kyle had taken off, not saying when he'd be back. I came out of my room slowly and observed my house. I gazed at the pictures on the walls, and took the family portrait of Cassie, Kyle, and me. Then I went back to my room and searched through old photo albums until I found the pictures I needed. Clutching them all to my chest, I exited the house. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the snow had melted away. The air was crisp, and deeply I inhaled it, not wanting to lose the moment in which I finally felt peaceful.

Our garage was extremely messy and cluttered, but I finally located the gasoline. I poured it in the corners and around my car. I made sure the garage was sealed shut and locked. Then I made myself comfortable in my car, arranging my pictures by the window. When I found my book of matches, I gave it a gentle kiss. I couldn't stop smiling. I was free! I was whatever I chose to be!

[Apparently Kayla's court-appointed stint in therapy was NOT LONG ENOUGH.]

I turned on the radio, and Beethoven delighted my ears. I struck the match and threw it out through my door window. It landed in a corner, and a flame appeared. I thought of my children, Cassie, Jenna, Michael. "God, bless them and keep them safe," I whispered, closing my eyes. "I can't do it anymore."

[Especially now that you're going to burn in Hell.]

CHAPTER TWENTY - KYLE

As I walked along the dirt road, I saw a flicker of red-orange, not too far off. "Oh, God," I whispered, my insides turning cold. "Mom!" I broke into a run. "Auntie! Momma!"

[OK, hate the boy all you want, but even he doesn't deserve to watch his only parent go up in flames. Why couldn't Kayla just fake her own death via a horrible car accident in Switzerland like Dixie did on All My Children?]

I was there in a matter of minutes, fumbling through the smoke in the garage. The door had been turned to ashes. It took me forever to bump into the car. I couldn't see, and I felt a little dizzy. I yanked on the door and hurried inside.

Mom was sprawled out over the front seat, and if I didn't know better, I'd think she was sleeping. But she wasn't breathing.

"Momma!" I screamed, and screamed again when I saw how close the flames were to the door. The smoke was terrible. I slammed the door, then lifted up my mother's frame, checking for any signs of life. Nothing. "Get up, Momma! Mom, come on!" I yelled, slapping her cheeks and shaking her. "Please!"

[Of course his first reaction would be to physically abuse his mother. You'd think he was Michael's kid!]

Common sense was telling me to drag her out of the car; there was still a chance... Instead, though, I gazed at her pictures. There was our family portrait. Along with it was her and my d--- I mean, Katherine's dad's dance picture, the one Katherine had noticed the first day she came over; one of her and Jenna, arm in arm and laughing; a picture of a baby girl: I knew it was Katherine, my only true love. Michael was by himself, smiling shyly at the camera. He looked very young.

I caressed my momma's face and saw the serenity captured in its expression. I thought back to when I was 11 years old, when I found her like this, only then she was sprawled on the bathroom floor, and blood was pumping out of a huge gash on her wrist. I had saved her from death, only to let her go through more pain. Only to let her try again.

"I'm sorry," I sobbed, then went into a coughing fit. I knew what I had to do.

I laid Momma on me, cradeling her in my arms. "I love you, Momma," I told her, knowing somewhere she could hear me. "I'm sorry I saved you before, and for all your troubles. Hold on. I won't leave you go to Heaven alone."

[Oh, Kyle. You'll have to set your sights a wee bit lower. Maybe Purgatory will have you.]

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - CASSIE

"As we lay down to rest Kayla Evans Hart and Kyle Hart, let us rejoice in their newfound happiness with God, and know that they will no longer suffer in his hands. Amen."

"Amen," I echoed, and shut my eyes as my best friend and her son were lowered into the ground, far below where sunlight could never reach them again. Right then I felt my heart break again. Jenna looked at me with red-rimmed eyes and held my hand. My mind flashed back to four days before today, when I'd found them....

On the drive home I'd seen fire trucks and police cars fly past me, sirens flashing. When I finally saw the orangey-red flames leaping off the garage and house, I pulled over and ran the rest of the way.

[Because that's faster?]

The garage had been completely destroyed, the house well on its way, but the firemen were getting it under control. I saw the ambulances, and two gurneys holding two people. White sheets covered them; or at least, they used to be white.

"OH MY GOD!!!" I screamed and fell to my knees. I dug my nails into my head.

[Is it wrong that this image makes me laugh?]

The police hurried to me, a mob of people following them. Michael, Jenna, Katherine, the twins.

"Cassie Donovan?" an officer asked kindly. I grabbed his collar. "Tell me they're OK! What the hell happened?" I shouted between sobs.

"Apparently, somebody doused the garage with gasoline, causing the scene you see here," he said, and I let go. "The corpses--"

The young officer checked his sheet, but Michael said, "no. She'll hear it from us." His eyes were bloodshot; his hair smelled of smoke. He knelt with me. "I'm sorry, Cassie honey," he choked, his eyes filling fast. "It was Kayla and Kyle. They said the bodies were burnt beyond recognition, so they won't say officially yet, but--it's them. Kyle had Kay in his arms--my Kayla--"

I look past this sobbing man towards Jenna and Katherine. Jenna looked as bad as Michael. "We came and found it like this," she whispered brokenly. "Mike tried to run in, but the flames--he stayed with the kids and I got help. They're gone, Cas. It's true."

[I'm sure the twins weren't at all traumatized at being left to watch their father's mistress and sister's biological brother meet the Grim Reaper. Smooth move, Spencers!]

"Oh, God," I wailed. My body couldn't keep it up, the uncontrollable crying hiccups that punctuated every sound. I'd lost the last of my family; no one else was left, except...

Katherine met my eyes briefly, and their spark was gone. Her face was streaked with tears. Her fists clutched tightly two photos. "They--they're with my baby girl," she told me, her voice wistful and heartbroken, but also relieved. "My parents, brother and daughter--my family is together. They'll be OK, I think." She started to cry. "Right, Auntie?"

I got up and hugged her fiercely as we sobbed on each other's shoulders. "Yes, baby, they will. Our family is together."

* * *

After the funeral, we all gathered outside. The twins seemed restless, which was understandable; they really had no bonds with Kayla and Kyle. Since the fire had destroyed practically everything, I was staying with Jenna and Michael.

[Selfish Kayla, too busy killing herself to remember that insurance companies don't pay out for suicides.]

We stayed behind until all the others were gone [what others? Her gang rapists?], and it was just us. Then each one of us went to pay our own (private) last respects. Michael was first, and when he was through, he kept his head down and hurried to the car. Jenna went next, then Katherine, finally me. I went over to their joined tombstones. In the corner of my eye, I saw everyone was in the car except my niece, who was waiting for me several feet away.

"Hi, guys," I said softly, gazing at their graves. "I have a few things to say to both of you. You first, Kay. I'm a little angery at you, I'll admit that. How could you do this, when you knew Kyle and I needed you? You took Kyle, too, and that pain is so deep in my heart." I held back a sob. "I know it wasn't easy for you, but-- You left me alone, and I've never been alone before. David protected me 'til the accident, and then it was you, and Kyle, too. Thank you for that. I truely think of, and will always love you as my sister, as well as my best friend."

[Notice she didn't say "gay lover," so there goes your lesbian theory. Nice try, guys.]

"Kyle. I really loved being your auntie; you made it so easy. I couldn't have been as happy as I was if you weren't around. You left me too, but I can figure out why, and I don't mind. Your mother came first, the way it was supposed to be. You made her real proud, and made me feel special. I was a somebody when I was your auntie." I sighed heavily and wiped my eyes. "Good-bye my angels. Remind my brother that his bitchy sister loves him, and to send some prayers my way."

I stepped away, and Katherine was instantly at my side. We stared at the graves. "I loved them both," she whispered. "I miss them so much."

"Me, too."

"I'm glad you're here, Auntie. I love you."

"I love you, too," I answered. Hand in hand, we walked to the car, our bond growing stronger with each step. I stared up at the sky. Thank you, I mouthed. Thank you for hearing me so soon.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - JENNA
~ FOUR YEARS LATER~

The sky was a magnificent mixture of pink, blue and purple, as the sun started to set. The rolling hills and flat lands were a lush green. It was a breathtaking sight, and I was reluctant to leave my chair on the front porch, but I had to. I was expecting someone for supper.

[Lil' Frema sure was a fan of adjectives!]

I stood up and thought about time; it can do so much with so little. [?] I was now 38; I found my first grey hair this morning. It makes me feel old.

Michael and I divorced; it was hurtful, and it tore us both apart, but it had to be done. Kayla was his love, and by her death he'd been devastated, not to mention his grief over the child she was expecting. There were no hard feelings, and we kept in contact, but... It hurts me still to wake up and not have him beside me. No more anniversaries to celebrate, no loving words to whisper to each other. My best friend-turned-lover has gone back to being my friend. And we thought we'd last forever. Only forever lasts.

[Cheesy cliches aside, the idea of anybody's marriage breaking up makes me want to cry, especially now that I'm married myself. Can't they try just a little bit harder? Can't they give just a little bit more? Can't they try to understand it's love they're fighting for?]

I don't see Cassie and Katherine too much anymore. A couple of years ago Cassie got a surprise call from her mother. She developed AIDS, probably from being so loose and carefree with men when Cassie and David were teenagers. [Yeah, Jenna, it was "probably" that. The next Nancy Drew, ladies and gentlemen.] So Cassie moved back to Illinois to take care of her, and Katherine went with her.

"Mother," she'd told me when she had said good-bye to me, "She needs me in a way no one else does, and she understands me better than anybody else. We belong to each other now." I had known what she'd meant, and it cut like a knife, but I let her go. She was only 17 at the time.

Lucas and Leigh are 16 and live with me. Lucas isn't very good in school; it doesn't interest him. He mostly stays at home reading. Recently he took to painting. His first work was a beautifully done portrait of Katherine, and it hangs on our living room for all to see.

[Um, can we say "creepy"?]

If Lucas does bad in school, then Leigh is terrible. She dropped out, as a matter of fact, a couple of months ago. I could see she was unhappy, so I didn't make her go, which didn't go over well with Michael.

[Seeing as he's a FUCKING TEACHER, I would guess that no, Mikey wasn't jumping for joy at that.]

She's not a bad child, but a lonely one, who didn't get enough attention from her family. She wasn't the boy or the oldest, so she got the short end of the stick. That was my and Michael's fault.

[Sweetie, Lucas didn't turn out so well, either. Both of your biological children were shafted.]

She's beautiful, and goes out on a lot of dates. I worry when I see some of the boys she brings home, but I never stop her. They are the only ones who can make my Leigh smile.

[Imagine how ecstatic she'll be when taking her first pregnancy test!]

Sometimes I try to think back to when I was young, but the memories are distant and that makes it hard. I visit Kayla's grave on her birthday and every holiday, and whenever I need to talk to her. If only she were with me; I'd have so much to tell her. [Like "step off my husband, bitch!"] I even visit David and Mary Katherine's graves when I go see Cassie and Katherine, because they're family, too.

I shook my head and gazed at the sunset one more time before I went inside. I cleaned and then cooked dinner, spagetti with garlic bread. I set the table and stood by the screen door to wait for my visitor.

I spotted him on the road a short time later. His black hair shone, his eyes twinkled and his face broke into a smile when he saw me. I waved. he picked up his pace, and I met up with him in front of my house.

"You're late," I commented.

Michael laughed. "I know and I'm sorry." He shrugged and said, "Work. Nothing I could do." He kissed my cheek and offered his hand, just like he had so many times before [except when he wanted to leave you for his pregnant mistress]. I accepted, and together we walked up the steps. I smiled. I was never alone.

THE END

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Final thoughts:

I don't think Kayla was Michael's true love. He and Jenna belong together, just like Ross and Rachel. I really wish lil' Frema had written scenes with Michael and Jenna at Kayla's tombstone, because hot damn, those would have been good. I like the new relationship between Cassie and Katherine, though I'm not crazy about Katherine leaving her "old" family behind. I hate what happened to the twins and think both Jenna and Michael need to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and RAISE THOSE CHILDREN before it's too late. Which it kind of is already, but still.

See all the loose ends we can tie up in part three?

Thanks, everyone, for indulging me all these Fridays. I really AM so glad we had this time together. And TLF?

See you in 2008!

Back from hiding

On Friday night, I experienced a mini-freakout over my rapidly approaching teaching debut. On Sunday, I glued myself to the computer, drafting the first outline of my syllabus and scouring the Internet for articles on related class topics. Later that evening I dreamt it was the first day of school and I had only just remembered my offer to teach entry-level Spanish. You know, because of my obvious affinity for foreign language.

My days since then have been spent tearing through books, finetuning assignments, and pondering how long it would take my students to find my blog and consequently gasp in horror at seeing a picture of their instructor donning Winnie the Pooh pajama shorts. That burden alone is worth tacking on at least two extra credit points to their overall grades.

Tomorrow is the Big Day, and I feel ready, except for one thing: I want to spend a little time showcasing some blogs to get everyone started, but I can't decide on which ones to include. My blogroll is pretty much limited to personal diaries, and I'd like to venture beyond that. Sure, I have books with pages and pages of suggested sites, and I'll refer to them if need be, but what do you think? If you were new to the blogosphere, which sites would strike you as best representing the genre?

I'll definitely let you know how class went (within reason, of course; privacy laws and my own comfort level prohibit me from discussing my students in any detail); I'll even post my syllabus for those who are interested, but since Friday equals the last TLF until 2008, I'm thinking Jenna, Michael, Kayla, Cassie, Kyle, and Katherine deserve to have the floor exclusively. We owe them that much.

Tragic Love Friday: The end is near

There are fifteen pages left in lil' Frema's notebook, and the way the action breaks up, I'm pretty sure next week we'll all be crying into our hankerchiefs at the conclusion of TLF. I have mixed feelings about this; a part of me is relieved to finally scrape something off my already-overwhelming plate, while the other will miss the excitement that always came with posting a new installment, refreshing my site for comments, and trying to rationalize the batshit-crazy actions of my characters, all of whom I love, despite their flaws. Yes, even asshole Michael.

Anyway, brace yourselves, is all I'm saying.

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN - CASSIE

For the next few days, Kayla locked herself in her room, coming out only when Kyle and I weren't around, which wasn't often. When she had come back on Christmas, she didn't say anything. She'd looked devastated and defeated.

"I miss my mom," Kyle said. The two of us were cuddled up on the couch, wrapped in bundles of blankets and watching reruns of "Welcome Back, Kotter."

[Don't ask why lil' Frema settled on this particular show. She never watched an episode a day in her life.]

"I know you do, babe. So do I. But we have to let her work this out on her own. She'll come to us when she's ready."

"What do you think happened to make her like this?" he asked. I thought for a moment, deciding how much he should know. Then it hit me: everything.

[So dramatic!]

"Well, she didn't tell me, but I think Michael wasn't treating her nicely."

"He hit her?" Kyle looked angery.

[Really. Forcing a woman into sex and impregnating her with your child is one thing, but slapping one is quite another!]

"No, sweetie," I assured him quickly. "I mean I think they broke up because of your mom lying to him. She also might've gone to see Katherine. Maybe both."

"Oh."

"Kyle, what are your thoughts on all of this?" I asked gently.

He sighed. "I'm not sure yet. I mean, I know my mom went through a lot, especially to have me, and I love her for that. But she killed people. And she lied. A lot. If I had known Katherine was my SISTER..." His voice trailed off, and he looked at me with sad eyes. "Kath already hates me. Now she'll be too embarrassed to even come near me."

"How do you feel about the baby, Kyle?"

He gave me a stricken look. "I don't want to talk about the baby, OK? Not ever."

"OK." I hugged his trembling body. "I'm sorry I mentioned it. And don't worry about your mom. She'll be fine." But for some reason, I wasn't believing my own words.

[It's obvious lil' Frema narrated this chapter in Cassie's voice strictly to move the plot along and not to actually, I don't know, DEVELOP her character. If I had it to do over, I would try to give her a more significant presence in the story. Has her cherry even been popped yet? Who's to say?]

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - MICHAEL

We were able to bring Katherine home on January 9. [My birthday, thank you very much for the well wishes.] I picked her up and took her home, where Jenna and the kids were there to welcome her.

She walked slowly through the house as through she'd never set foot in it before. Lucas went to her and hugged her tight. She smiled weakly while we all did the same.

"We're all glad you're home, Kath," Jenna said softly. "We missed you like crazy."

"Thanks." Then she said something that blew us away. "I want my adoption papers, and pictures of my parents," she said flatly. Jenna went to say something, but Kath cut her off, looking at her straight in the eye and added, "you owe me at least that much."

"No!" Lucas cried. "I thought you liked being my sister." Leigh had tears running down her cheeks. "Are you gonna live with that woman now?" she asked fearfully.

[Because Jenna would LOVE that.]

Kath shook her head. "I love you both, just like I always have. But some things are different now."

I went and fetched the shoe box that contained all of Kath's adoption papers and old photos. I gave them to her wordlessly. The twins left the room crying. Jenna's face crumbled, and she started to shake. She was so weak. Not like Kayla, who carried the world on her shoulders. I mean, Kay.

[Michael, you sonofabitch. A woman forced to bear the brunt of her HORRENDOUS mistakes, at least two of them made at the expense of YOUR OWN DAMN WIFE, hardly makes her admirable.]

Kath's expression was blank as she read through the papers. It was when she got ahold of the pictures that caused her emotions to show. One of the pictures was a group shot, before Kay and David--that is, KayLA and David--had broken up. David had his arms wrapped around her neck, and she was holding his hands. Cassie was giving the finger [poor Cassie, she really is the Jo of Melrose Place], and Jenna was giving me bunny ears while I had my eyes crossed. We were all smiling. "Is that--" Kath pointed to David hesitantly. "Yes, sweetie. That's David, your father," Jenna answered, her voice trembling.

"He was very handsome," Katherine said softly. Her tone was wistful. Jenna smiled. "Yes, he was."

My daughter smiled, too. "Kyle looks so much like Kay. Look at her hair." Her smiled faded. "And me. I look like--my mom." Her chin trembled. "My momma. She loved me?"

"Very much," I replied, smoothing her hair. "Your momma's a strong woman, but she can only take so much. Kay--I mean, Kayla was...is..."

"They're the same person." I heard her whisper in my mind. And they were.

So which one did I fall in love with?

All of her.

"I do love her," I said aloud, and I knew in my heart it was true. I turned to Jenna. "I'm sorry." She nodded. "I knew that you did, in here," she replied, pointing to her skull. "But I couldn't accept it, in here." She clenched a fist over her heart. "Go to her. She needs you."

[Who's the weak one now, ass wipe?]

[Also, sob.]

"I love you," I whispered fiercely and held her tight. "Thank you a million times over."

"I know you do," she whispered back. "Don't forget me too soon."

[Dammit, there are tears in my eyes. Thank you, hormones.]

"Never," I promised. We pulled apart, and I saw my reflection in her tears, just as I know she saw hers in mine.

"Dad, can you take me, too?" Katherine asked, sobbing, clutching the group picture along with another one. It had been taken when Kayla was in jail, and Kath was almost a year. She gazed at it as if it hypmotized her.

"Yes." I offered my hand to my wife. "Come with us." Jenna shook her head. "She doesn't need me anymore." I didn't take back my hand until it was attached to hers. We got the twins and got into the car. It was a long drive to Kayla's.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - KATHERINE

As we drove my stomache churned. My head pounded, and I couldn't breathe easily. I wanted so much to apologize to my mother, to hug her and say, Yes! Let's be friends, always! And I wanted so much to see Kyle. I wanted to hold him tightly and start over. I'd always love him in that way. Blood wouldn't change my feelings, just how I handled them. Maybe one day we could talk like brother and sister, and about our Katrina.  For now, though, I just wanted us to look into each other's eyes and know that we're forgiven. I hoped it wasn't too late.

-------

I know what you're thinking. Yes, yes, it's all coming together way too neatly, why in the hell would Jenna want to befriend Kayla now, why is Katherine suddenly so eager to forgive her rapist brother, why is Michael willing to trade in his marriage to a woman he loved so deeply for so many years for one who betrayed so many of his loved ones?

I don't know. I'm still wondering if Cassie's lost her virginity.

Blah blah blah, I want belly pictures

Yesterday, Lindsey pointed out via e-mail that I haven't been very good at keeping you all visually apprised of my expanding girth, and now that I think about it, the last time you saw The Belly, it was featured as a supporting character in my first post about BlogHer (the second recap is coming, I swear).

How rude of me. This thing clearly deserves your undivided attention.

If you care about me at all, please disregard the shine on my forehead and all those pink dots scattered across my face. It was almost midnight when Luke took this picture, and besides, that whole "glowing skin" phenomenon you hear about in pregnant women? It's a DAMN MYTH. 

And since I care about YOU, I'm warning you not to view the full size of this image. It's not pretty.

Right now I'm at twenty-three weeks, and sometime during the last ten days or so, Freka must've decided to begin working on her life-long dream of becoming an Olympic gymnast, because holy crap, does this girl like to move it (move it). In between the time my feet touch the carpet and my head hits the pillow, she rolls around in my womb like a bowling ball. Several times my entire body has flinched in reaction to her fetal shenanigans, but they always bring a smile to my face, because hey, movement equals life, right? As long as she's treating my insides like a jungle gym, I know she's doing well.

In the area of weight gain, I currently clock in at 142 pounds, which means I've gained back everything I lost to morning sickness and then some, but it's only recently that I've come to experience geniune, ravenous hunger. And a renewed fondness for Ruffles sour cream and onion potato chips.

Luke and I have signed up for a few classes at the hospital where I'll give birth--Childbirth Preparation, Labor Support, and Breastfeeding Basics, the first one starting in September--and the baby's room is actually starting to look like a baby's room. My in-laws generously purchased Freka's crib, while my own parents eagerly committed to the bassinet. Luke's childhood dresser and the rocker my mother used when I was but a babe myself are in their proper places, and several items of clothing are hanging in the closet.

This is really happening. On or around December 10th, we're really going to have a baby.

Hold me.

Safety nets are sooo overrated

June 13th marked two years of employment with my current company, and my service was rewarded with a handsome raise that I believed would steer Luke and I down the path to Easy Street when it came to keeping one of us at home with Freka after the conclusion of my maternity leave.

Our household has managed on my salary before, back when he first came to Indianapolis and was searching for full-time work, so I assumed it would be easy to do again, plus one, especially since I was bringing in more money. Also, we've always intended to pay off our Cobalt in full before the baby's arrival, padding our budget with an extra $330 a month to absorb food, diapers, and other essential infant needs.

On Monday night, we opened Microsoft Excel for the first time since April to access our spreadsheet template and updated it with the numbers we'll be dealing with come next spring. We accounted for the ninety-five-dollar rent increase, the need for two cell phones instead of one, the absence of the Cobalt payment (and Luke's salary, sob), and factored in my raise. Since my contract with Parents expires at the end of December and there's no guarantee of a renewal, that particular source of income is not part of our postpartum finances.

We designated four hundred dollars a month to be directly deposited in my HSA. We drastically reduced allocations for entertainment and dining out and eliminated the "Gifts" category entirely.

"With all the cuts we're making, I bet we can even afford to sign up at the Y again!" I said, a move we've been seriously considering for the last couple of weeks.

We held our breath and added the totals.

Fortunately, my gut instinct was right. We can afford for one of us to stay home.

Unfortunately, it required whittling down our savings contribution to ninety dollars a month. (Farewell, safety cushion. To know you was to love you.) And it provided tangible proof that, right now, in our current situation, stay-at-home motherhood is not in the cards for me.

The two of us stared and stared at the new financial life glaring at us from the harsh light of the computer screen, me not believing how greedily that spreadsheet had devoured our Cobalt money, Luke not saying a word. Finally we just went out for shakes, because apparently, we better slop 'em up while we can.

I know things aren't as bleak as they seem. I'm extremely thankful we can afford to sock away so much money into our HSA each month; that combined with my employer's modest contributions should prevent us from being blindsided by any spontaneous medical emergencies. That takes a lot of the pressure off our savings, and good thing, too, because there won't be much in it for quite a while.

Also, managing to stay in the black on one income for three people is no small feat. Having anything left over for savings at all when tons of couples entering parenthood are forced to embrace a permanent balance on their credit card puts us on the fast track to success in my eyes. And of course, we both love that we'll be able to have a parent look after our child during the daytime hours and avoid the stress that often accompanies the lives of families with two working parents.

However, just out of curiosity, I placed a call with a local daycare facility yesterday afternoon. It's part of a national chain and happens to be located across the street from the major road that leads to our apartment complex.

How much to enroll an infant? I wanted to know. And what will that figure entitle me to?

The answer: it would take $222 a week (A WEEK) for this place to watch my baby Monday through Friday, from the hours of six-thirty to six. That includes formula during the infant stage and baby food and cereal for later months. And, you know, the promise that someone will change Freka's diaper every couple of hours.

Holy shit is daycare expensive.

But we could do it. If Luke wasn't up for being a stay-at-home dad, we could afford to send Freka to daycare and still have a sizable amount left over for savings. If both of us worked, we could keep that place at the dinner table for our safety net, lavishing him with praise over filet mignon and crumpets or whatever.

It's a lot to think about.

For about a year now, whenever the topic of kids came up, we talked about keeping one of us (originally me) at home. And part of my reasoning was that the benefit of two incomes wouldn't outweigh the drawbacks associated with placing our offspring in somebody else's care. But now, with all the facts and figures before me, it kind of seems like it would. The expense of having a baby isn't automatically forcing my husband out of the work force. We have a choice.

And our choice still stands. I'll bring home the bacon, and Luke will stay home with Freka when the time comes. We are dedicated to giving our preferred family dynamic a try. But if he decides he'd like to go back to work sooner than later? Man, do I have a new appreciation for what daycare could enable us to do.

I'm nervous. I'm scared. I'm excited. I'm terrified.

But it's a small price to pay for motherhood.

On a totally unrelated-yet-not-unrelated-at-all note, any money-saving tricks and tips y'all have shoved up your sleeves would be much appreciated. That Y membership isn't going to renew itself.

In case you're not a long-time reader, it would help you to know we don't have cable, we pay off our Visa bill every month, and though we plan on purchasing a new (used) car for Luke before the end of the year, we'll be paying for that in full.

Time won't give me time

As the summer gradually transitions into fall, the Frema-Useless Clutter household is making some drastic changes in the area of time management. Or rather, Frema is making some drastic changes. For the past few months I've been kind of skating around in my own little world, going with the flow, living la pregnant loca, and it's time to stop being so damned selfish.

Prior to my first-trimester morning sickness, I kept semi-regular hours at work, arriving around nine o'clock and leaving between five and five-thirty. Eventually, though, the fatigue from Nausea Fest 2007 caught up with me, and my feet refused to leave the sanctity of my mattress before eight o'clock. By the time I showered and forced myself out the door, it was almost nine-thirty, which wasn't a huge deal--my boss is very flexible--but it meant I had to stick around later to complete a standard work day. Once I was feeling up to par again, you'd think I'd have gone back to my old ways, but it still wasn't unusual for me mosey out the door as late as ten-thirty and peck away at the keyboard until seven or eight o'clock, thus issuing a proverbial slap in the face to the husband who's in charge of making dinner and would appreciate seeing his wife before the sun goes down.

What can I say? I am not a morning person.

Anyway, that schedule wrecked havoc on our evenings, because even though I'd make sure the apartment was clean before I left, there'd be at least one blog to update when I got home, an episode of All My Children to watch, a phone call to return, a book to flip through for class, and then suddenly it was one o'clock in the morning and I'd be wondering when exactly Luke had gone to bed and why I'd allowed him to hit the sheets alone. Again.

It took all the activity surrounding the last couple of weeks--BlogHer, camping, and playing catch-up at work--for me to realize how much I've missed the time Luke and I spend together and how quickly our existence as a DINKY twosome will morph into parenthood. Four months from now, a new person will enter the world, a person we created, a person who'll expand our family and capture our hearts and completely revolutionize the way we approach our lives.

Until then, though, we can snuggle on the couch and indulge in idle conversation, pour over photo albums, and simply enjoy each other's company, and I plan on doing just that, no matter how busy things get before then.

Yesterday, for the first time since spring, I hopped in the shower before eight a.m. I left work on time. I came home and sat at the table with Luke over a dinner of pork chops and biscuits and we talked about our day. We finally drafted a post-maternity leave budget (a story for another post, most definitely). We returned movies and picked up shakes. And we turned out our lights at the same time, before midnight. It was wonderful.

This morning, I instructed Luke to delete my daily AMC recording from the VCR. Tonight, we're going to a baseball game to witness Indianapolis's minor league baseball team in action. The dishes will be done. My blogs will be updated. And it will be just the two of us, the way it's been for more than six years, the way it will be for just a little while longer. I'll gladly soak up every second.

Tragic Love Friday: Poor, poor, pitiful Kayla

My sincerest apologies for flaking out on last week's TLF. I don't think today's segment is juicy enough to make up for it, but since there's only twenty-two pages left of the sequel, believe me, the action is on its way. I can probably squeeze out three entries after this one, which means we should wrap things up by the end of the month.

In related news, I've made a decision regarding part three; if you guys are up for it, I'd like to give it a whirl and see what happens. However, this fall is going to be super-busy for me, too busy to nurture another new undertaking, so I don't know when it's going to start. The New Year, maybe? Much will depend on how Luke and I are adjusting to life with Freka. In the meantime, having some time to mull over possible storylines will be good for all of us, I think, and if we experience a change of heart and realize we're all over the whole TLF thing, we can scrap it with no hard feelings.

That said, let's watch Kayla make an ass out of herself, shall we?

-------

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - KAYLA

The rest of the afternoon, Cassie, Kyle, and I talked about everything. The past, the future, the baby.... I thought my son would be furious with me, but he handled it all with astounding maturity and understanding.

[This reminds me: it seems like a few of you were upset about the lack of violence and/or bloodshed in Kayla's big reveal. What can I say? Lil' Frema loves a good mother/son bonding session. Maybe you guys could take a page from her book and celebrate the reunion of a fractured family instead of rooting for its demise. Heartless bastards.]

We were sitting around our little tree eating ice cream when he asked about Michael. "Is he gonna leave Jenna, now that he knows?" he asked softly. I closed my eyes and Michael's image was conjured. I felt Cassie grab my hand.

"I don't know, sweetie. With Kath in the hospital, he might not."

"Does - does she know about you and me?" He swallowed hard, and I could only imagine his pain. It was not going to be easy for him.

"She might not," I replied, "but she's going to have to, soon."

"I'm tired," Kyle commented suddenly. "I'm going to bed." I checked the clock. Six-thirty.

I hugged him tight; Cassie did the same. Her eyes followed his slouched frame. "He's such a good boy, Kayla."

"I nodded. "I know."

[And I know how much ya'll hate him, so go ahead and let it rip, but if you had the proverbial carpet ripped out from under you on Christmas Day, you'd probably sing your rapist boy's praises, too, is all I'm saying.]

I sighed and raised my eyes to the ceiling. "God, Cas. I lost my granddaughter this Christmas. How can my kids face each other now? Will Kath accept me? Will Michael?"

"I don't know. They can't ignore you for long. And Kay." Cassie's voice became gentle. "As much as it hurts, you can't keep referring to Katherine as your daughter. She is, technically, but she only knows Jenna as her mom. Be careful not to offend either one. Although I think it's too late as far as Jenna's concerned."

"I agree. She hates me more than ever. But what can I do? Kath needs to know about me, and you, and Mike needs me now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Cassie--" I fought back tears. "I need him too. I don't know if I can be by myself anymore. He filled up a part of me [snicker] I thought I'd closed off."

"And what are we, chopped liver? You'll never be alone. Kyle and I love you like crazy."

I smiled wistfully. "Thanks, hon, but you know it's not the same."

[I hate when women refer to each other as "honey" or "sweetie." I think it's condescending. In case you care.]

"I know it's not. You don't see me with somebody, do you? That's how it's always been, always gonna be. I've accepted it, though. Maybe that's your only option." I shook my head, not wanting to believe her. "I have to try."

[In other words, Cassie, Kayla would rather rot in Shady Pines then become your Golden Girl partner-in-crime.]

For a while there was quiet. I finally stood up. "I have to go to him." My friend didn't scold or discourage me, just extended her hand. "I'm here if you need to grab onto something." I held it and gave it a squeeze. Then I walked out the door.

[And if you threw a party and invited everyone you knew, you would see the biggest gift would be from me, and the card attached would say...]

* * *

As I rang the Spencers' doorbell, I had no idea what to expect. Would I be welcomed or cast aside?

A girl with blondish-brown hair answered the door. Leigh, I realized. She looked at me first with shock, then disgust. "You want my Dad, don't you." The statement made me blush. "Please?"

"C'mon." She led me through a sunny kitchen and into their living room. Jenna was there, looking through papers. Michael just sat on the couch, looking angery.

"Daddy, THAT WOMAN is here." Both of their heads snapped up as Leigh shot me a dirty look and slammed into me as she walked past me and out of the room.

"What the hell do you want?" Jenna snapped sharply. "Haven't you done enough for one day?"

"How's Katherine doing?" I asked Michael, ignoring her.

[Bitch has some nerve showing up unannounced and then not even granting Jenna the courtesy of acknowledging her present. If I were Jen, Kayla's face would've already been kissing the carpet, pregnant or not.]

"She'll be OK; she has to stay in the hospital a while longer," he replied somewhat stiffly. I could tell he was looking me over, searching for a clue that would prove I was not Kay, just Kayla.

"Let's talk," I said. He nodded and glanced at Jenna, who caught his eye. "Don't worry about me; have a ball," she said snidely.

"Grow up," I couldn't help saying. "Not everything revolves around you."

[Insert your own snark here, because seriously.]

"Let's go." I followed Michael outside. "We'll take your car," he added. "Jenna might need ours."

"Whatever." We got in. "Where are we going?" I asked, gripping the wheel tightly.

"I don't care." In silence I drove, and he didn't contribute a word until I came to a stop. "Why did you pick here?" It was the field we had come to on our first date. It was covered in snow.

"No reason." I looked him straight in the eye. "You first."

[Coward!]

"Fine. Why didn't you tell me who you were? How could you do something like this?"

"I couldn't tell you. Nobody was supposed to find out. I just wanted my kids to be together."

"Well, together they certainly are," Mike said sarcastically.

"It's not my fault!"

"Do you think I care? You lied to me! I don't even know who I'm talking to--Kayla or Kay."

I was hurt. "They're the same person. I haven't changed."

[That's true. Selfish? Check. Delusions of self-entitlement? Check. Producing illegimitate children with emotionally unavailable men? Hell to the check.]

"You have in my eyes. To think I loved you! I bet that baby isn't even mine."

[Way to hit your mistress where it hurts, Mikey!]

I slapped him hard. "Get out!" I screamed. He obeyed. "Go to hell, Kayla!" He shouted. I gunned the engine and drove like mad. You'll be OK, you'll be OK, I told myself. Breathe, breathe, get control, don't think about it. I didn't cry as I drove to St. Mary Magdalene's Hospital. I went to the information desk and was relieved to learn Katherine was given a room out of emergency, and she could receive visitors. My hands were clammy as I took the elevator to the third floor and located room 324. I knocked softly and opened the door.

Katherine was in the bed closest to the door. She had an IV dripping into her arm, and blood below the waist of her hospital gown. Her hair looked dull and stringy; her head was turned to the wall.

"Katherine, it's Kay." She moved her head and stared at me but said nothing.

"How are you feelin', sweetie?" I asked tenderly. She gazed at her bloody gown. "Not well," she admitted. Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Why are you here?" Her tone was edgy.

"You know, don't you," I stated. She nodded. "We have nothing to say to each other. Don't slam the door on your way out."

I was stunned. "What did they tell you?"

"The truth." She looked so fragile, and hurt. "You killed my sister and my father. Then you hurt my mother even more and chased after my dad. You broke up my family." Her eyes filled with tears. "You let me be with Kyle when all along you knew--you knew he was my brother! Then he raped me, and I was left with a baby! I had no other choice!"

"You did!" I whispered. "You could have come to me! I would've helped you!"

"Never!"

"I know I lied, and I'm sorry. I did the best I could."

"Bullshit!"

"Listen to me!" I grabbed her arm [hopefully not the one with the IV in it], and she was too weak to pull away. "I did everything I did because I loved you. I always have. I was no good to you. Jenna and Michael are wonderful to you and love you as their own. It hurt me, but it's been better for you this way."

"Do you think I care? You've ruined my life in just a couple of months! The past doesn't matter to me!" But I looked into her eyes and saw that it did. "How could you keep Kyle and just leave me be?" she blurted.

"Oh, baby, I--"

"Shut up! I don't need you, I'll be fine with the family I've got. Just go away!"

She was shaking uncontrollably, and I released my hold on her. "Please understand what I've gone through to get to this moment with you. I need you in my life," I begged.

"I don't give a damn. Go to hell."

That was the second time that phrase had been thrown in my face. I fled from the room.

-------

If there was any chapter I could rewrite in the sequel, my first choice would be the one with the rape. But this one's definitely second, because lil' Frema really missed some great opportunities for stellar dialogue. Especially since it's the last time that Jenna, Michael, and Kayla will ever be in the same room alive.

Dun dun dun!

Why don't you pick one of the confrontations and give it your own spin in the comments? I can't wait to see what everyone comes up with.

Yes, I cried. Do you think I'm made of stone?

Don't worry, this post isn't in lieu of TLF, but I just had to share the beautiful surprise I received this morning at work.

This isn't the first time Luke's sent me flowers in a corporate setting, but it is the first time I've gotten them here, and I was completely floored. Aren't they pretty? They are so, so pretty.

I am one lucky woman. Thank you, honey!

So much for Monday, eh?

You guys still there?

Obviously there was no BlogHer recount on Monday; I was too busy recovering from my second consecutive weekend away from home. The camping trip was great--I was able to visit with aunts and cousins I normally don't see very much and eat Smores in front of a blazing campfire--but it was a five-hour round trip, and by the time I fell into Luke's arms Sunday night, I. was. done. Done with traveling, done with being away from my husband, done with being on the go all the damn time.

So I stayed away from Blogland on Monday. And Tuesday. And most of Wednesday, until I posted a Parents.com entry a half-hour before midnight. Then I went to bed.

I'm not trying to play the role of martyr or anything; believe me, I'm well aware I did this to myself. I'm the one who agreed to teach a class, write for Parents, and keep two blogs going, all while maintaining my day job and being a wife and growing a baby. (Of course, I didn't know I'd get pregnant when I initially signed on to teach, but Luke and I started trying anyway, even though we knew things might work out this way, so again, it all comes back to me.) And I enjoy doing all of this stuff. What I'm not crazy about is the self-inflicted pressure to excel at everything at once. And apparently, my prioritizing skills suck monkey balls, because how many times this summer did I sit in front of the TV when I should've been reading for class? Methinks it'll soon be time for another AMC hiatus. Thank God for message boards.

Work seems to be settling down, but I'll make my teaching debut exactly two weeks from today, and there is a lot to do. I have assignments to plan, a syllabus to create, and administrative logistics to iron out, like where I'll be spending the night after class, because I'm infamous for nodding off at the wheel, especially on dimly lim highways, and there's no way I'm chancing a car accident with this baby, who, by the way, is more active than ever these days.

Anyway, how the hell are you guys? I've missed you.

I'm not even watching the last couple of episodes of All My Children

It's eleven o'clock, and I've just finished the last of my three Parents.com entries for the week. My husband is playing video games in the living room because I'm parked in front of the computer, and I still have to pack for my weekend camping trip, which will require me to haul my ass out the door tomorrow morning at a time earlier than my normal arrival to work. I'm tired of writing until one o'clock in the morning and Luke falling asleep without me, so in the interest of preserving my sanity and my marriage, I'm taking the rest of the night off.

I'll aim to post the second half of my BlogHer recount on Monday, and I'm skipping TLF this week. To pass the time, check out the goodness that is my Parents blog if you haven't already. The set-up is a bit different, requiring readers to register with the site before commenting, and I can't have comments e-mailed to me, so I'm feeling a bit disconnected from those who've been nice enough to respond. If there's a topic you've wanted to comment on over there but for some reason weren't able to, tell me about it here.

Have a fantabulous weekend.

BlogHer '07: The rest of the story (part one)

OK, so I've already talked your ear off about how fabulous it was to meet my bloggy-blog friends at the BlogHer conference in Chicago last week. However, let us not forget that it was, indeed, a conference, meant to educate Web geeks on various tricks and trends of the blogosphere. And I was ready to be educated. After blogging for almost three and a half years, I've found my niche. I'm done with fiction (except TLF), and I dream about being the Internet's version of Dave Sedaris (except not gay).

Anyway, I had a clear list of objectives regarding what I wanted to gain from the conference sessions:

• Get a better feel for the business ramifications of blogging. While I plan to stay away from ads and other money-making ventures on this here site, my Parents blog does provide me with income, and I'm open to pursuing similar opportunities with other companies. In those instances, I'd like to know how to market my image and handle my taxes.
• Learn how to increase traffic to my blog. Hey, if I didn't want readers poking their noses into my deepest thoughts, I wouldn't have a Web site, right? Plus, I'm not technically savvy at all, so receiving pointers from an expert or two certainly couldn't hurt.
• See the inner workings of the blogosphere. How are communities formed through writing online? How do they change? How do people change once they belong to one? And how long does it take before the participants move on to the next one?

As you can see, I had high hopes for these sessions. But I've always loved attending conferences, and now that I'm no longer in school, I's gotta get my nollige any way I can.

Here we go.

DAY ONE

(Breakout #1) Business of You: Self-Branding and Self-Promotion

The write-up for this one talked about "exploring how to think of yourself in what might be a new way...and how to use both online and offline media to promote your work." Bring it on, I thought. I already knew about branding from working in communications, but I wanted to make sure I was doing everything possible to present a consistent image on my blog.

I'm sorry to say I was deeply disappointed in this session, especially because it was the one I was most excited about. There was simply no structure. I waited for somebody to turn on the projector, for some sort of formal presentation that gave everyone a starting point from which to work with, but no. Nobody ever defined what branding was or why it was important. There were no examples of Web sites or bloggers who were doing this successfully, no handouts to summarize important notes. Basically, the panelists stood up front and took questions from the audience, questions that often had nothing to do with each other and skipped all over the place, making it hard to follow a logical train of thought. I also didn't like how discouraging some of the experts were about dabbling in different topics. Apparently if I want to have a popular blog, I need to pick one topic and stick with it, and judging from my ginormous list of categories, I suppose I've resigned myself to permanent C-list status. But Dooce is the master of miscellaneous, and she's one of the most financially profitable bloggers out there, so obviously that's not a hard and fast rule.

Despite the lack of actual content, I did scribble a few gems onto my notepad, my favorite one being "the importance of being authentically interesting and interested." If you want to get anywhere in blogging, you can't robotically comb through Web sites and leave generic comments like, "Your blog is so funny! Visit me at blahdeblah.com." If you want to talk at people, set your sights on print media. If you want to participate in conversations beyond your demographic and you're genuinely curious about what others have to say, that's when you turn to blogs.

In hindsight, I wish I had attended the Identity session titled "The Life Stages of Online Communities." Anybody go to that?

(Breakout #2) Technical: Find Out Why Bloggers Care About Web Standards

This session promised to provide information on how to make your blog easier to navigate for people with disabilities. Kerflop had mentioned the importance of following web standards on her blog a while back, and the subject's piqued my interest ever since. Also, my company works very closely with a local organization that finds jobs for those who are blind or visually impaired, so I see firsthand the significance of making sure your Web site is accessible to everyone.

Anyway, the speakers definitely made good on their promise. Did you know that thirty-eight percent of people with some sort of disability are online? Afflictions range from visual impairment and colorblindness to not being able to use a mouse. There's no way I can list everything I learned, but here are some of the biggies:

- Don't make a link open in a new window without warning. For those with impairments or disabilities, this makes it difficult for them to get back to their original starting point.

- When composing text for a link, don't be lazy and write "click here." For those who can't (for whatever reason), they have no idea what you're referring to.

- Visual captchas exclude those with poor vision from commenting on your blog. Use a text-based one if you can (I know Movable Type offers this option, but I'm not sure about TypePad).

- When posting images, make sure they're properly labeled. You can do this by clicking on the "Edit HTML" window of your post draft and editing what appears in quotes after the "alt." Make sure the text relates to the picture so those who can't see it can still follow along.

Go to www.webstandards.org and www.allaccessblogging.com for more information.

(Breakout #3) Technical: Technical Tools to Build Traffic

This session is a no-brainer; it divulged precious information about how to bring more traffic to your Web site. I loved it and took tons of notes, too many to share here, but the entire presentation can be found at www.elise.com/blogher, as well as additional resources. This session rocked. I can't wait to set aside enough time to actually put these tips to use.

In case it wasn't obvious, both of the technical sessions I attended more than fulfilled my expectations for objective number two.

(Breakout #4) Identity: The State of the Momosphere

I may not be a mommy blogger, but if the Parents.com gig continues to go well, I very well might be one soon, and I wanted to hear what others have to say about the mom culture online. This was another Q-and-A session, but that made sense, considering the subjectivity of the topic. There were three panelists, one of them the great Cheeky Lotus.

I have to say, the dialogue that took place during this session was really interesting, even if I didn't agree with everyone's opinion. A lot of attention was paid to the monetizing aspect of mommy blogs, whether it be posting ads, freelancing, or reviewing products and services for a fee. Some argued that a woman's time is valuable and deserves to be compensated, while others speculated that the reason many people are uncomfortable with mothers receiving this kind of attention from businesses is due to the fact that, traditionally, "woman's work" has been more sacrificial in nature, and critics just aren't used to viewing moms in a more professional light. Yet another person said blogging about your children is no different from blogging about crafts or food, which I strongly disagree with. Is an apple pie going to grow up in ten years and ask you questions about a story you posted when he was still in diapers? I didn't think so.

That's not to say I think mommy blogs are sell-outs. I don't. But let's not pretend that writing about your kids doesn't have the potential for major consequences down the road. As I get closer to the end of my pregnancy, I constantly worry about how I'll portray my life as a mother online and how much I'll reveal about my baby. It'll be important for me to remember that my words and pictures will be available to millions of strangers around the world, and it's my job to protect her integrity, which is just as if not more important than sharing the joys and pitballs of being a parent in today's world. I love telling my story but would hate exploiting hers. Luckily, I've seen a number of bloggers balance these aspects of their lives beautifully, so I'm hopeful I can do the same.

If you attended any of these sessions, feel free to add to what I've said. Tune in tomorrow for Day Two.