Engaged

Remember when our mothers used to open the front doors after lunch and let us out, like the family dog into the yard, to play on our streets with our friends until the streetlights came on?

The world is no longer like that. Our kids now live in scheduled bubbles, where they no longer get exercise unless it's during a scheduled class; no longer play with friends unless preordained by both parties' parents; no longer have any semblance of street smarts. But it's not all bad.

The new world also bridges the gap. It helps lonely gay teens, Burton Cummings fans and solitary moms find like-minded friends online.

I've written about this before and someone validly commented that an internet friend can't hug you when you lose a parent, or make you laugh until you cry, etc. But that's where the new world is different. You can meet people you "know" online face-to-face, and not in a creepy stalker way.

Just like the difference between the kid who just watches Dora listlessly (my son) and the one who gets up, does the actions requested and screams at the TV (my daughter), well the internet works the same way. It can be a passive, observer type pastime. Or it can be an interactive, very human experience. It's really up to you -- and, I suppose, your comfort level.

I strongly believe that most of the people put on this earth are good souls. Sure, the planet has its fair share of assholes and evil dudes. But for the most part, people are kind and looking for some sort of shared experience. Because these experiences help us to feel less alone and, more importantly, they help us to feel more alive.

So I have chosen to always put myself out there, where I feel a reasonable amount of comfort doing so. Actually, it's probably more apt to say that I do it when I feel least like throwing up beforehand.

This past year, I attended both the BlogHer conference in New York and the Blissdom conference in Toronto. Both were immensely rewarding experiences for different reasons. But both had the same current running through them: I made friendships that will hopefully last a lifetime.

W0men that I've been friendly with on blogs or on Twitter; women that I'd been friendly with professionally; women I barely knew... when it comes down to it, revealing bits of yourself in a room full of people is way more courageous that baring your soul online. We are bound for life now through our shared experiences and because we've seen a side to one another that we wouldn't have if we'd only chatted on a screen or passed each other at a PR event.

What was especially excellent about the Blissdom Canada event was that it was the first conference of its kind in Canada. And as a result, we let our national internet stars shine. We tooted our own horns for a change -- very un-Canadian.

After practically barfing into my laptop bag from fear of putting myself out there (practically, so still worth taking the chance), I had the pleasure of sitting on a panel with the very curly Angella Dykstra of Dutch Blitz and the very tall Jen Maier of UrbanMoms.ca (both brainiacs in their own right), which was lead by the phenomenal Jeanette Miller of LimelightPR. None of us are superstars by international standards, but we've earned our stripes in the Great White North. We were kind of the Debbie Downer panel, because we sort of said, "Hey dudettes, sorry, but if you think you're going to make more than mani-pedi money by putting ads on your blog, that's a bit of a myth."

But then I cracked a few jokes and was my nervous, exposed self and I hope that it made the room feel at ease. My fellow panelists did a bit more by suggesting constructive ways to build a business and blog opportunities. I mostly picked at my croissant and hoped my ADHD wouldn't put me into rambling with no point territory. Then I neurotically wondered if the room would think I'm rude for eating while on a panel, and am I an ass to suggest that people should take a job with a regular paycheck... oh well. I still think I imparted some wisdom and some insights from my experiences on the wild, wild web over the last 10 years. First panel experience, I give myself a B.

I also got to lead a round-table discussion, that was sort of like speed-dating for bloggers, on How to Pitch an Editor. My good friend Jen Reynolds, editor of Canadian Family magazine, asked if she could help me out and I immediately agreed (I'd be too forthright on my own, plus I could stand to take some notes from Jen myself). She graciously prevented me from rambling to long. (Note to nervous talkers: pair yourself with a pro.) We had three groups of women at our table in three 20-minute shifts and by the end we basically had a line-up of people piling chairs around us, which felt pretty freakin' awesome.

It was actually difficult to decide which panel sessions to go to at Blissdom, since many women that I am friends with or a fan of were on each and every one. The topics were all great and the discussion interesting and engaging. The parties were top notch. And even though I missed half of the conference due to sick kid issues, I was proud to be part of the inaugural one.

Besides the obvious highlight of putting human faces to Twitter avatars and learning more about them in person, I realized while there that I can be myself online and still succeed. That I can put myself out there, reveal to you my insides, and you'll still respect me in the morning -- f-bombs and all.

But I think that the best part for me was feeling that I could help others on their journey. Which is a lot like what I blog about. It was a revelation that this could extend to real life. That by showing people, in the flesh, that I am flawed and quirky and honest, but whip-smart and willing to share what I know, I could somehow help them to find their happy medium. They might not agree with me or like my style, but at least I could feel good about being true to myself and know that my words would have some impact on their decisions.

It was scary and awesome and I can't wait to do that again.

Bliss

Forgive me readers, it's been two months since my last confession.

I'm speaking tomorrow at the BlissDom Canada conference. Which seems fitting, because as this blog has evolved, I've searched for and found my bliss. I just don't make time for it very often -- at least, I haven't made time to write about my bliss as of late.

I'm speaking about Monetizing Your Blog, which is interesting, considering I've never sold an ad here, nor do I do any selling at my day job at sweetspot.ca. But I promise it's going to kick ass, because as a result of my non-selling, my point-of-view might surprise you.

I make money chasing my bliss. Which is writing. I love playing with words, love finding puns, playing with cliches and aliteration. That's what I get to do all day and get paid for it. Coming up with short bits of goodness is a fun way to spend your day. Helping other writers find and hone their voice, well that's the part of being an editor that I absolutely love. (I could do without spreadsheets and budgets, which would be no surprise to my lovely boss, but I get to them eventually too.)

On rare occasions, I get to exercise my writing muscles in longer format. Most recently I came home to find this awesome sauce in the mail and plunked it down in front of my dad. We all proudly stared at my byline; my mom squeezed me extra tight. It felt good.

I read it aloud to my kids (well, kid. Lucy's attention span was diverted to Silly Bandz or some shit. Not enough pics to keep her interested.). Nate, started to get disgruntled at first. "You shoulda put ME in there, right there where you said dad was a baseball fan!" Just wait, I told him, be patient.

Nate, who can now READ! spotted Lucy's name and got giggly. I kept going. I read his name aloud. He beamed. I was fair, I gave them two mentions a-piece like a good mommy should. Then I got to the last sentence. He leapt into my lap and hugged me, "Mmmm, Mama."

Doing what you love feels good. Getting paid to do what you love gives you validation and a reason to keep going. Having an editor believe in you, your talent, your style, enough to take a chance on you is immensely gratifying. If you can't make it to my session tomorrow, I'm basically going to be telling you one thing: Stop selling yourself short. Set your price, figure out what your time is worth and then don't accept anything less.

Take Me South to the Ballgame by Nadine Silverthorne is in the November issue of Canadian Geographic Travel, on newsstands now. You can also read me every Monday on my SweetMama blog/column Silver Spoons.

I'll be back here from time to time, I promise. I just hafta figure out how to add that 8th day to my week.

Thanks

I love Thanksgiving. It's without a doubt, my favourite holiday. There's no stress of gifts, no expectations; just a really kick-ass meal and good conversation with people you love.

But it's really the idea of giving thanks that resonates. It's a great time to reflect on the year that passed and take stock of what is good in our lives. (I actually use many holidays as check-in points throughout the year, since they're often ideal reflection-starters.) Here's what I'm thankful for this year:

Family. I spent Thanksgiving with my in-laws, their best friends, my brother-in-law and our kids. The actual biological children of my in-laws (my husband and his sister) were absent from the meal due to conflicting obligations (work and a trip). Yet I felt totally at home and happy to be with MY family at the meal. I hope my in-laws felt the same about us. I am truly grateful that the definition of family is so all-encompassing and that love crosses all kinds of boundaries. (I get to eat with my parents and sister later today -- and that's an entire post of gratitude unto itself.)

Health. This is a topic that many of us take for granted. Oh sure, we all pay it lip service, but do we live it? I came home from Thanksgiving dinner to news of a friend's illness. I hate that it takes moments like this to remind me of the importance of good health and being thankful for it, but thankful I am. She would want me to be. 

Friends. I am not good with bad news. I sort of run around like "The sky is falling! The sky is falling!" So I need to mobilize troops, get action started, focus on something other than the fact that the sky is falling. When I shared my worry over my ill friend, my friends rallied around instantly offering help to someone they don't know. My heart swells with joy when I think of the friendships I've cultivated over the years. Thanks friends. You're amazing. 

Sweetspot. From my colleagues to my readers, everyone helps to make this job sweet. I know if I come in with sad face on Tuesday, some part of working here will brighten my outlook, be it a comment from an office mate or left online by a reader. Thanks.

My husband. He works so hard, yet still manages to be a family man. He makes us feel loved, cherished and safe; when I'm down he immediately says what I need to hear. He's my rock.

My kids. Looking at their sleeping faces last night, I felt a sense of calm. Knowing that when they wake you up the next day, they will make you laugh is a godsend in tough times. Their ability to live in the moment at all times teaches me to put the brakes on over-thinking things. And they inspire much-needed hope that everything will be OK. I'm lucky that I get to be their mom every day.

Be cool to your kids' school

I recently read a pair of articles, in the September issue Today's Parent, by my colleague, Jennifer Hughes. The first was about boosting your kid's school by accessing a comprehensive list of grants and programs available to schools. The second was aptly titled "The Busy Parents' Guide to Volunteering."


My first thought? With three kids (one being an infant) and a busy freelance career, I wondered, "How does Jen do it?!" My second thought? Could I do it?


As I've mentioned in the past, it's not like I've leaped into traditional motherhood roles with open arms. Was I the kind of person who could make time for school council or volunteer for anything more than the occasional field trip?


But then I found myself at a parent council meeting, with my best friend (buddy systems always help). We agreed beforehand that we were just going to check it out, no signing up for anything. But as soon as we began to understand some of the struggles the average public school faces, we were raising our hands to join sub-committees. We had something to contribute. Our day job skills could certainly come in handy for helping the school. And the time? Well, a couple evenings a month is no big deal when you no longer have a hopping social life.


Two nights later, our school had its curriculum night. And the second we arrived at the BBQ, with teachers, students and their parents huddled together over hot dogs and roasted corn, I realized that being involved in the school wasn't just about the school; it was about community. People who were complete strangers only days before were now acquaintances. Suddenly I knew other parents by name. We smiled and made small talk. And poof! Just like that, my world got smaller.


While chatting with my son's teacher that night, I mentioned that I'm usually home on Fridays. If she needed some help, I'd be happy to stick around after dropping Nate off. Come Friday, there was no turning back. Nate was out of his skin with excitement that I was coming to school with him. And before I knew it, I was listening to story time, helping with cut and paste activities, and taking some notes on how to organize and motivate kindergarten-aged kids.


It took two hours out of my day (that could have been spent answering emails), but I went home feeling like a good mom, a good person and dreaming of all the ways I could make our school the best it can be.