Social Networking for Dummies

So, I thought I was being really up-to-date, on the edge of using technology, when I tried this blogging thing. It took me awhile to grasp the point and understand the potential application of having my own blog -- I mean, who was going to bother to read it anyway -- but, I quickly grasped the advantage (especially given that we live on a different coast of the country than many of our family and friends) of being able to share photos, vignettes, and ideas about life in one spot.

Plus, blogging does great things for alleviating my guilt. Now, if my in-laws or other family feel that I have not done enough to share information about the goings-on at the Merchant household in Virginia, I can just ask, "Well, don't you read our blog?" I figure, it is now their responsibility to take the ten minutes a week to read my latest post and keep up on my family. A lack of information is not my fault anymore. Whew...

As the months have rolled by, I have been amazed to find out how many people actually do read my blog. I get a phone call from a former co-worker, go to lunch with a friend in Utah, or re-connect with someone from high school that I have not talked to in years and, surprise, surprise, they have found and read my blog. Wow!

These situations create an interesting dynamic in terms of "informational asymmetry." These friends or family members are quite well caught up on my life. They know about the antics of my two-year-old, the puking months of my pregnancy, or that we just had a new baby. I, on the other hand, know nothing about them.

So, a few months ago when I got a comment on my blog from an old high school friend, who mentioned she keeps up with another old friend through Facebook, I thought, "Maybe I should try that out too." It seemed like it could be a bit like blogging and reconnect me with the lives and times of many old friends that I would actually like to be in touch with.

So, I created a Facebook page -- is that what you call it? And, then, I got lost. What was I supposed to do with my page? What sort of information do I put on it?

What was up with leaving these little comments, like fragments of a conversation, except posted publicly for the world to read? I get blogging. I am by nature a long-winded individual, so I understand sharing a whole story. And, I love email: it is like letters or conversations on the computer. But these short "messages" on a "wall" made no sense to me. Kinda like texting...?

And, how am I supposed to catch up with old friends when what I know about them is a snippet like, "John enjoyed pizza tonight." Okay, good for John. But, what did John think of the pizza? Why did John decide to have the pizza? Did he eat it with others or alone?

So, after tracking down a couple of email addresses by making "friends" with old friends on Facebook, I decided it was not for me. I was not current enough, not savvy enough, to do anything with it.

Then, I had a few more friends find me. I did not want to reject them, and actually was interested in how they were, so I thought I would try Facebook again. Plus, I am having a bit of a personal issue about being a mother of three in my thirties and trying to not feel like I am legitimately getting too old to keep up on new technologies. "I CAN do this," I told myself.

I logged in, left a couple of notes for those who had found me, posted a picture of our new baby, Elsie Jane, to provide some information about my life, and even thought, "Maybe I will try to find some other people I know. I am not certain what I will do when I find them, but why not?"

I had six "friends" on Facebook. One was a relative, four were legitimately good, old friends I want to keep up with, and one was someone I remember by name, but for the life of me cannot remember anything else about -- he went to my high school, but that is really all I know.

I immediately determined I would not try to find or connect with anyone I did not actually know and want to communicate with, thus shrugging of the social pressures that constitute one form of criticism related to online social networking sites. In addition, I had already determined that I was far too old to engage in any sort of inappropriate exhibitionism on this site by exposing too much info about myself, that is what my blog is for, right? So, I was beyond any of the potential pitfalls of Facebook and could put it to use for me. I just had to figure out how.

I quickly realized part of the interesting dynamic of such sites is that you can try to create something "unique" about yourself that others may be interested in, but it only takes seconds to realize how small you are in a vast ocean of people. I did not realize how many people have my same name. I bet there are few to no people in the world who do not have a duplicate out there somewhere. Makes it all the more challenging to distinguish one's self. But, one way to do it seemed to be through the connections to other people.

So, today, I searched for and "made friends" with two of my siblings. I remembered three actual friends that I have nearby who have mentioned they use Facebook, including someone I work in Young Women's with at church, and I tried to "make friends" with them too. Bumping my "friend" total to eleven. I thought for a minute that this was impressive work. Ten people that I really do like and want to hear from are now my "friends" plus one I cannot remember, making eleven.

Then, I noticed that my friend from church, who only recently started using Facebook herself, has over 100 "friends." My very social, student body officer friend from high school has over 250 "friends," many of whom I recognize by name although I cannot connect the names with faces, events, or any relevant facts about these individuals. My sister, who is still actually in high school, has over 400 "friends." And, I have eleven.

It was interesting how quickly it happened, but all of the sudden I had confirmed to myself what I had long suspected: I was a loser without any friends. I mean, three of my eleven are related to me. All the "news" that you learn about people when you look at their Facebook page, after all, is who they are "friends" with now. I have no "news" worthy of Facebook, because I have no "friends."

I thought about how I could start combing through the "friends" of my "friends" and invite anyone whose name I recognized to be my "friend" too. There would be some people I could find this way, and I did recognize a few names that had popped up at the bottom of the screen as "potential friends." I was not sure who some of them were, but some did sound vaguely familiar. This tactic surely would help me boost my "friend" count.

But, what if I contacted these people that I barely recalled and they did not even remember me? Or, they did remember me, but didn't want to be my "friend?" What if I combed through hundreds of names and sent boatloads of invitations and no one responded? That would be even worse.

I was not even certain what I would do with all these "friends," how I intended to use my new Facebook site to enrich my personal and social life, or what the point of it all was. But, I did not want to suffer massive rejection in order to improve my social standing online.

And, then, I realized the truth: Facebook is not a tool to help me reconnect with friends from high school; Facebook is high school.

This was precisely the social calculation, self-doubt, and insecurity I thought I had relegated to my past thirteen years ago, but through Facebook I could once again experience all the pressures, all the flirty, trivial posturing trying to make myself look cool and socially desirable at a much older age and from the comfort of my own home. But, apparently, I am no better at it the second time around.

How Sweet She Is

I have fallen in love. It took maybe two seconds, but who wouldn't immediately adore this face?

For anyone who missed the previous pictures (which I would have appreciated Jeffrey combing through and editing a bit -- I surely look my loveliest right after major surgery!) or post, I had to take a minute to introduce:

Elisabeth Jane Merchant

Our beautiful Elsie Jane arrived Monday evening. The ease and timing and miracles associated with her birth were such a personal manifestation of God's love and care for my family. She came at just the right moment, when we had my mom here to care for Mia and Maggie, perfectly healthy and plenty big for being a month early, and without any complications.

I am once again amazed at how smitten I am with her. Even having two other beautiful daughters did not prepare me. I love her smooth, olive skin. I love her dark hair -- I have never had a baby with hair before! I love all the resemblances to her sisters and her dad -- I have yet to see much of me in that little face. I adore her long, slender fingers with itty-bitty nails on them. I can't help but just pull her close and take long deep breaths of her scent every chance I get. I like to watch her tuck her knees up to her chest and rest in a little ball -- I always marvel that only 5 days ago that little ball somehow fit inside of my body! Every time I gently rub my cheek against hers or next to her silky hair, I get a little teary. Truly nothing can be as miraculous as a newborn baby.

Plus, Elsie Jane is the ideal baby. She sleeps well, eats well, and has cried for maybe (and I seriously mean maybe) one whole minute in her little life. She radiates a peaceful spirit and captivates anyone who has come in contact with her. (I took her to the pediatrician today and had to wait an extra five minutes to see the doctor while the nurse showed her off to everyone else in the office.) She has not had even the slightest hint of a set-back or a health issue for arriving at 36 weeks. She has been nothing but joy.

Elsie Jane also has a sense of proportion. She was born one day after Mia's birthday and one day before Jeffrey's. So, for the second time in the last six years, Jeffrey received a baby for his birthday. What a way to mark the year with his three little girls.

Being barely able to get up and down, still in significant pain, and exhausted from the c-section, the energy and curiosity with which Mia and Maggie have welcomed their new baby sister is a bit overwhelming. Once again, thank heaven for daddy and grandma! Maggie needs some training in basic safety if we are to keep Elsie Jane alive and healthy with all the love and help that Maggie heaps upon her. Mia is actually quite grown-up and helpful, but they have both been exhausted and overwhelmed at my hospital stay, late night visits, and the excitement of a new baby. I trust I will again feel functional and we will figure this all out.

In the meantime, I just don't want to take a moment of these sweet times with Elsie for granted. I can't wait to introduce her to friends and family in person, but for now, this will have to do.

Elsie Jane smiling...

Elsie Jane resting...

Elsie Jane wishing...

Elsie Jane celebrating...

Elsie Jane sporting the "crazy hat" that my sister Ellie made for Maggie....I am not sure what Elsie thinks of it.

And, by the way, thanks for all those who commented. You will notice her name is ELISABETH Jane. We love it!

Elisabeth or Elizabeth?

Well, it finally happened: after fourteen days of constant contractions, four months of not fitting into any of her clothes, and almost nine months of nausea, Emily delivered our little baby this evening at 6:38 pm. The baby was 19.5 inches long and weighed an astounding 6 oounds 8 ounces (far heavier than the doctors expected). Emily was able to enjoy the natural pain of about six hours of labor but also has the added benefit of a C-section recovery. Nevertheless, she is very happy about our new little girl.

Of course, we have run into one small snag. When a nurse asked Emily how the baby's name was spelled, Emily replied "Elisabeth Jane." I, not wanting the baby's name to be spelled wrong on the birth certificate, corrected Emily and said, "Elizabeth Jane." Emily then corrected me and told the nurse that the baby's name is spelled with an "s" and not a "z." After a bit of haggling, o resolution was reached. Thus, the baby has yet to be officially named, though I am sure I will ultimately prevail. There are no famous Elisabeths (at least, no famous Elisabeths worth mentioning), but there are six saints, five Empresses, two English queens, and a slew of other successful people named Elizabeth. I will keep update everyone of our decision shortly after Emily gets her next dose of morphine.

Check out this link for pictures.

Happy Sixth Birthday Mia

Mia sixth birthday was Saturday. It included several celebrations: a trip to the Leesburg Animal Park, Build-a-Bear, and the Cheesecake Factory the weekend before with Grandma Joy. Since I was on bedrest at this point, we were grateful for grandma being here to share in the fun and fix dinner / cake the next night too. Then, on her actual birthday, Mia shared cake and was sung to at the closing party for her soccer team before picking up Nama at the airport. We then celebrated again with dinner, presents, and leftover cake from the soccer celebration. What a special and memorable birthday to have both grandmas visit!

In honor of Mia's sixth birthday, six things I love about her.

1- Mia is exactly what her name means "My Joy." She is full of life and happiness. Mia does not do things half-way; she does them fully and with great expression.

2- Mia has a strong sense of herself and a confidence that others will love and accept her. Mia knows what she wants and believes.

3- Mia is very sensitive and compassionate to the feelings of others. She knows what everyone in the home or in a group is thinking or feeling. She tries very hard to bring happiness to everyone and to love and help others.

4- Mia has a strong testimony of Jesus Christ, ability to feel the spirit, and a love of God. She does not just feel this, but can recognize, articulate, and act upon this knowledge.

5- Mia is smart and inquisitive. She loves to learn. She asks meaningful questions and expects substantive answers.

6- Mia loves animals and stories. She wants to grow up to be a veterinarian and is always trying to rescue animals -- who have an astounding ability to trust her. She also loves to read books, watch movies, and listen to stories. She has a wonderful imagination and will recreate the characters and events that she hears about. She can retell and understand the nuances of the literature she experiences.

Almost Obama, but just a Mama

So, I know I have been rather drugged up lately and not thinking very straight, but when I got a call this weekend letting me know that the final pre-election Obama rally was going to be 2 miles from my home, I got the fever.

What can I say?!? I haven't been this uninvolved in an election year since 2000. I felt like a needed a good dose of wholesale politics, large crowds, and screaming political madness.

Only a few obstacles stood in my way.

The first thing I had to do was figure out what to do with the kids. That was easily resolved: I quickly determined that it was high time to re-expose my children to a political rally. I want them to grow up to be involved, civicly minded citizens. Sure, we talk politics at home; I have taken them along to help me vote; I have had them march in parades and distribute leaflets; and they have been to rallies before. But, this one was bigger and better than what they have previously experienced. I talked it up and got Mia all excited about going.

Then, I began to address the second major issue. I determined that if we could park really close and I could slowly walk a limited distance and then find a place to sit, I would not be "over-doing" it. I made it to and from the car and sitting in my camp chair at Mia's soccer game on Saturday and into and out of Sacrament Meeting at church on Sunday. This was no different -- a short walk, one chance to get out of the house, and then I would be good and just take it easy.

The doctors had informed me that the baby would be fine, just small at this point -- we were only 4 days off of our 36 week goal, how much of a difference would it make? I also concluded that if this experience put me back into full-fledged labor and our baby came on election day it would make for a great story.

Everyone really needs a fabulous birth story. Mine includes coming a month early while my parents were on Christmas vacation in another state, after my mom decided to take a ride on a galloping donkey, justifying to herself that Mary rode a donkey while pregnant with baby Jesus (Apparently my mother missed the part in the retelling of all the Christmas stories that year where Mary went into LABOR after that donkey ride and had to give birth in a less than desirable location far from home.), barely making it to the hospital (which like the inn keeper almost turned her away when the doctor did not recognize her as a patient), and barely making it in time for an all-natural birth. This is a story with excitement and interest, and I figured maybe I could provide my newest little one with a similar tale with civicly minded undertones.

Mia almost came twice, once while walking neighborhoods for get-out-the-vote activities and once on election night at about 4 am when we were still waiting for precincts to report. But, these were only close calls, in the end she was just a boring scheduled c-section. This time could successfully be an action-packed adventure.

With my major obstacles addressed, we set off Monday night for Mia's parent teacher conferences with a plan to check out how close we could park to the fairgrounds. Then, having returned home for coats and hats for the kids, we returned to the school parking lot to make our covert path to the rally, not back into the school.

As we began to unload, Mia started whining that we only brought one stroller for Maggie; Maggie began crying and screaming that she had to take off her sleeveless Cinderella nightgown and put on real clothes and a coat to come along, and the moment that I set foot out of the car, despite all the drugs I had taken before, I started having more intense contractions.

First, I decided to be stubborn and will my way through the event -- everything will be fine once we get there; we are not going to let bad attitudes and a few little diversions dissuade us.

Then, I began to soften. How much fun would I have with my grouchy children, especially in three hours? Or four? Or even five? How much fun were they really going to have? Was I realistically up to the physical demands, not just of walking there, but of dealing with my kids at the event? What if I really did go into labor? Could I even make my way out of the crowds and through the traffic to get to the hospital? Was it worth it to have a baby that may have to spend extra time in the hospital if she came even four days earlier?

All of the sudden the fever of irrationality lifted. I was a pregnant mother of two with another on the way. What was I thinking?!? I began to remember that I am no longer in my early twenties with great flexibility to do the all-day, all-night political events. I heaved a sigh, readjusted to the reality of my life, loaded my kids and myself back in the car and went home.

Oh well, when thinking clearly, I guess I love being a mama more than Obama.