What I learned this week: Google+ hates me

The last couple of weeks, I've been spending much time and energy trying to better figure out Google+. Most specifically, I'm working on getting the hang of Google+ hangouts. Google+ hangouts are quite similar to Skyping, only it's super simple to have a large number of people join you. They're a fantastic way to participate in (or just watch) online interviews and information sessions on a variety of topics, as well as visit with friends and family.

Chloe from GenerationFabulous.com has been instrumental in encouraging all the Generation Fabulous members — of which I'm one — to hop aboard the Google+ train, and she led the first Google+ hangout I've joined. It was an opportunity for those of us who have never hanged out (or whatever the grammatically correct term might be) to try it in a low-stress atmosphere.

During that first hangout, Chloe taught me and some other newbies a thing or two, such as how to make our names show up during a hangout — especially handy for those of us who want to look professional when getting interviewed online. I've never been interviewed online (nor am I ready to be) but I followed her directions and now come across quite professional looking in a Google+ hangout. Well, at least the label does.

(The picture of Jim is there because I did this practice one with Jim to get shots for this post; hangouts require you to, well, hang out with someone. He didn't use video, so just his profile photo shows up.)

Chloe also showed us how to access nifty tools that make us look the opposite of professional. They're fun things that enhance the experience when participating in a hangout with grandkids, which is one of the more awesome reasons to figure out Google+ hangouts, if you ask me.

I'd also like to figure out the hangouts so I can hang out with friends who are scattered across the country. I'd be happy to wear a crown or smiley face then, too.

There also are some fun sounds to make grandkids (and big kids) chuckle while hanging out:

Also cool for hangouts with grandkids: The storytime feature in which you can choose a book from the bookshelf and read it aloud to kiddos watching and listening from their end.

That's just a small snippet of Google+ hangouts and why I think they're pretty darn cool.

So why do I say Google+ hates me?

Well, because with all the cool things I could do with Google+ hangouts, my microphone doesn't work most of the time. I can Skype just dandy in the morning, but when I attempt a hangout in the afternoon, I sound like I'm underwater. Or I can't be heard at all.

I first thought it was a problem with my computer and my microphone, but it's not. Like I said, my mic works fine for Skype. It does not work fine for Google+ hangouts. And yes, I do have all the settings set correctly (I've checked... about 316 times). I've also replaced the audio drivers on my computer just in case... and my mic still doesn't work for Google hangouts. At least not most of the time.

I've searched and searched and searched for an answer online. Only to find a large group of equally unhappy folks with equally distressing problems when it comes to Google+ hangouts. It's not us, it's them. Meaning it's Google+.

Google+ hates us. For some unknown reason.

And that just plain stinks because I want so badly to play in Google+ hangouts. I so want to wear a pirate hat and patch while reading a story to Bubby and Mac. Or while enjoying a drink and some girl talk with faraway friends.

But I can't. Because Google+ hates me.

And that, unfortunately, is what I learned this week.

(I'm hoping what I learn by this time next week, though, is how to make my mic always work in the hangouts. I'm not giving in to the Google+ hate that easily. Stay tuned.)

Today's question:

What did you learn this week?

Twenty-one years of MS, plus the GRAND Social

Yay! Today is my anniversary! It's kind of a funky one to celebrate, as it's the anniversary of the date that I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. But I've done so well, I can't help but celebrate and share.

On Mother's Day 21 years ago, Jim literally carried me through the doors of the hospital emergency room so we could figure out why I couldn't walk and was losing my vision. My legs had gone numb a few weeks earlier, on April 24. I vividly recall the date because it was the night of a school carnival, where I'd helped man the booths at my daughters' elementary school. My feet were numb after the event, and the numbness progressively worsened, as did my vision. My general physician responded to my daily calls about the problem by telling me it was "just stress."

Long story short, thanks to a new doctor, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, told I'd likely never walk and possibly never see again. I was a young mother with young children, and I was scared to death. But I quickly learned the MS diagnosis wasn't a death sentence, that they were (thankfully!) wrong about my walking and vision, and that life goes on. In the past 21 years, I've learned many other important lessons about myself and my world that I wouldn't have without the MS. In many ways, it's been a blessing.

That said, though, it's a blessing I'd never wish upon others — especially not anyone I love, especially because not everyone is as fortunate as I have been in terms of progression of the disease. Which is why I support the annual MS Walk — which this year celebrates its 25th anniversary — and am once again walking in it this coming Saturday. Brianna has been instrumental in getting me to do it, and we first walked together in 2008. I finished the walk, but I could barely walk after crossing the finish line (Brianna even had to bring the car to me as I couldn't get to it). Because of that, it took me several years to get up the nerve to do it again. Finally, last year, we gave it another shot, and Andrea joined us. I did well, we had a great time, and we're doing it again this year.

Here's a little plug for Walk MS 2013:

I tend to shy away from fundraising efforts, even for great causes. But when I wrote about the walk after completing it last year, several readers asked why I didn't mention it before the walk so they could support me. So this year I offer here — with no obligation or expectation — the link to my MS Walk 2013 webpage, where you can sponsor my walk, if you feel so moved. If so, thank you from the bottom of my heart. And thank you all, in advance, for crossing your fingers and sending good thoughts my way as I tackle MS Walk 2013 with Brianna and Andrea at my side. I look forward to sharing with you photos of our success!

Plus, there's another anniversary of sorts: Today's GRAND Social is the FIFTY-THIRD one here on Grandma's Briefs! Thank you for participating once again!

How it works:

• All grandparent bloggers are invited to add a link. You don't have to blog specifically about grandparenting, but you must be a grandparent who blogs.

• To link up, copy the direct URL to the specific post — new or old — that you want to share, not the link to your blog's home page. Then click the blue "Click here to enter" text below and follow the directions to add your post and graphic to the list.

• You can add up to three posts, but no duplicates, please, and none you have promoted on a previous GRAND Social linky. And no contests, giveaways, or Etsy sites, please.

• Adding a mention at the bottom of your linked posts, such as This post has been linked to the GRAND Social linky, is appreciated. Or, you can post the GRAND Social button anywhere on your page using the following code:

<a href="/" target="_blank"><img src="http://grandmasbriefs.squarespace.com/storage/GRANDsocialbutton.jpg " alt="Grandma’sBriefs.com" width="125" height="125" /></a>

• The GRAND Social linky is open for new posts through Wednesday evening, so please come back to see those added after your first visit.

• If you're not a blogger, you have the pleasure of being a reader. Bloggers who link up would be honored to have one and all — bloggers and readers — visit, read and, if so moved, comment, even if just a "Hey, stopping by from the GRAND Social."

• Looking for another grandparent linky? Be sure to visit Connie's Grandparent's Say It Saturday Link Party each Saturday.

Thank you for participating in the GRAND Social!

Photo replay: Cold turkey

After spending 10 days of 24/7 time with my grandsons, it's now been more than a week since I've seen their faces or heard their voices.
Going cold turkey stinks, to say the very least.

Bubby, Mac and Gramma at the zoo — April 26, 2013

Enjoy your Sunday!

Photo replay: Little pieces

I returned home to the mountains yesterday. Pieces of my heart, though, remain in the desert.

 

Cheers to surviving the bittersweet bits of grandparenting!

10 reasons this grandma needs new glasses

Yesterday morning I attempted to eat yet another Dove foil-wrapped chocolate egg left over from Easter — solely for the purpose of getting in my recommended daily allowance of dark chocolate, for the touted health benefits. (We'll ignore that the egg was milk chocolate, not dark.)

But I couldn't. I simply could not eat another chocolate egg. Literally — because I could not see the spot in the foil where I could begin to unwrap the darn thing so I could pop it into my mouth.

After cursing the foil for foiling my attempt to pack in a few more unnecessary calories, I decided to put on my reading glasses and give it another shot.

Voilà! I had the chocolate unwrapped and in my mouth in no time... quickly followed by two more easily unwrapped eggs. (Hey, don't judge; that was only half the suggested serving size.)

In the past few years, it's become increasingly difficult to do anything that requires me to see anything smaller than, oh, a golf ball. Like finding where the foil on a chocolate egg can best be opened. Lately, though, it's no longer just difficult, it's now downright impossible.

The time has come for me to invest in a new pair of bifocals to replace my once-not-so-necessary yet now so very expired pair. It's become a necessary evil, so I can be fully bespectacled and prepared for any less-than-golf-ball-sized matters that might come my way — without having to wear my reading glasses around my neck on a chain or readily available atop my head at all times.

I've come to this conclusion because the unfoiling of the chocolate eggs is just one minor example of everyday tasks I once did with ease that now require glasses. Here are nine more:

Reason No. 9: Seeing my wrinkles and brown spots. I thought my new face cream was doing surprisingly well, as my wrinkles were disappearing, my brown spots fading. Or so I thought — until I put on my reading glasses the other day to tweeze my brows (and, yes, chin hairs). Oh my! Nope, that to-remain-unnamed face cream definitely isn't working as well as I thought it was.

Reason No. 8: Seeing the time on my iPhone when driving.

Reason No. 7: Seeing who I'm trying to call — or who is calling me — when I'm driving. (Forget texting when driving... and not just because it's illegal.)

Reason No. 6: Reading the packages and price tags — or even my list — when shopping.

Reason No. 5: Choosing music on my iPod.

Reason No. 4: Choosing camera settings on my camera.

Reason No. 3: Picking and choosing what morsel to savor next from my salad. Or from any meal at any time.

Reason No. 2: Reading recipes — even those I've been making for years. (My memory has gotten nearly as bad as my vision.)

And the NUMBER ONE reason why this grandma needs new glasses: So I can see my grandsons when visiting through Facetime on the iPhone!

At this point, when connecting via Facetime without glasses — or even with my reading glasses, since it's all blurred when I have to hold the phone far enough away so they can see me — it's nearly impossible to tell if Bubby and Mac are as happy to see me as I am them. Well, as happy as I am to sort of see them.

I suppose that final reason could have been the first... and the last... and the only one mentioned. For that surely would have been enough.

Whether one reason or ten, though, there's no longer any reasonable doubt: This grandma needs new glasses.

Case closed.

photo: stock.xchng

Today's question:

What activities have recently frustrated you because of less-than-stellar vision?

Mother may I?: Different standards for Grandma

My daughter has a double standard. I didn’t raise her to be that way, but I can no longer deny it.

You see, what my daughter — whom I love deeply and dearly despite this flaw — does with her children, my grandchildren, and what she expects and allows me to do with them are two very different things. Sometimes, in fact, they contradict one another quite starkly.

To wit:

When I am in charge of caring for my grandsons, meaning Mom and Dad have hit the road and enlisted me to babysit, I’m given rules to follow, rules related to eating, sleeping, personal hygiene and safety.

One food-related rule is that the boys get only their three meals a day plus one morning snack and one afternoon snack. I’m not to give them any more, any less. When my daughter’s in charge, though, those kids snack off and on throughout the day. At times not on the written schedule I've been asked to adhere to. Then my grandsons — not so surprisingly, I must add, with a "nyah, nyah" attached — balk at their plates of healthy foods come mealtime.

While we're on the subject of snacks, I must say that my ever-so-health-conscious daughter swears my grandsons are not to have too much sugar. They eat sugar-free cereals, natural peanut butter, corn syrup-free fruit snacks and a variety of other not-so-sweet sorts of things.

But — and you knew there had to be one, right? — the boys are allowed handfuls of M&Ms and other candies when Mom or Dad are eating a few themselves. Handfuls, I tell you. Well, not really handfuls, as they actually get them in little snack bowls (for M&Ms really do melt in your hand, not just in your mouth, at least when it comes to the hands of little boys).

Bedtime features a similar bending of the rules. I’ve been told the boys must be bathed, rocked, read a story, bedtime prayer said, then huggled and snuggled before being tucked in. On a specific schedule and in that order. Which I do happily. (Nearly) every single time. Does my daughter follow that schedule? Um, not usually.

Use of media is another sore spot for me, another place the double standard can’t be denied. This one I’ve actually called my daughter out on — which I don’t normally do. But I just had to say something when nearly a year ago, I allowed my four-year-old grandson to watch a Batman cartoon, and when my daughter found out (thanks, Bubby!), she chastised me with, “Mom, he’s not supposed to watch that. It has mean men who shoot guns.”

I couldn’t hold my tongue. Especially considering that my letting him watch cartoon men who shoot guns, while surely not a great idea, can’t be much worse than his parents letting that same grandson, at that same age, listen to LMFAO’s unsavory (but, yes, rather humorous) ditty “I’m Sexy and I Know It” so many times that he knew most of the words. Worse yet, he considered it his very favorite song at the time.

In the grand scheme of the grandparenting gig, the contradictory rules for Mom versus Grandma aren’t that big of a deal. Really. They’re not harmful to my grandsons. My daughter is an awesome mother with good intentions. She keeps my grandsons safe, sound, and never doubting they are loved and cherished. Plus, as the parent, it's her prerogative, one not afforded the grandparent.

Still, it is a tad disconcerting to see my daughter so full of baloney (and not just because she wouldn't dare be caught dead eating ever-so-very-unhealthy baloney).

Yet, despite the double standard, I do my best to stick to her rules.

Even if they’re silly.

Even if they’re not fair (I say in my whiniest of whiny voices).

I stick to them because they’re my daughter’s rules, and that’s what grandmas must do.

Because grandmas no longer set the rules.

Which is the one rule grandmas would be most wise to remember.

Today's question:

How does the mom-rules/grandma-rules dynamic play out in your family?

What I learned this week: The momentum has shifted

When my youngest daughter, Andrea, was in high school, she joined the soccer team. She'd never played before, not in earlier grades in school, not on club or park & rec teams. But in true Andie fashion, she chose the soccer team over the track team because her sisters ran track, and she was determined to do her own thing. Plus, she figured there'd be less running in soccer than in track.

Andrea was wrong about the running, but she was right about choosing soccer anyway, as that girl rocked the soccer field. She even chose to be goal keeper when no other girls on the team wanted the position, a position that eventually garnered her a spot — and a scholarship — on her college soccer team.

During her high-school stint on the soccer field, Andie's coach for the first few years was a young male teacher, not long out of college. His youth and enthusiasm for his job, for his team, for the game were a boon for the girls he coached. They absolutely adored Coach D. (His good looks had a wee bit to do with that, too, I assure you.)

Now, Andrea's high-school soccer team was not the best in the district. In fact, they were pretty far from it. But they had grit, they had dedication, and they had Coach D cheering them on.

Jim and I were fortunate to be able to attend the majority of Andrea's high-school soccer games. Many times, her team struggled to keep up with their opponents, often ending up on the losing end of the match. Sometimes, though, they'd manage to pull ahead.

It was during those initial moments of pulling ahead that Coach D's enthusiasm spilled over. "THE MOMENTUM HAS SHIFTED!" he'd shout to the sky, to those around him, but most importantly, to the girls. To which the girls would then run harder, faster, as they heard the sound of hope ringing across the field.

In every game, no matter how bad the beating seemed it might be, there would be at least one point where the exclamation would be made.

"THE MOMENTUM HAS SHIFTED!"

Every once in a while, the momentum would shift fully in the girls' favor, and Andie's team would come out the victors. Always a sweet victory indeed.

Ever since those days of watching high-school soccer games, hearing Coach D exclaim the moment of change indicating hope on the horizon, I've often heard his words ring out in my head — sometimes even spoken the phrase aloud or chuckled when Jim would say it at just the moment I thought it. I've heard it in my head at Andie's college games, while watching live or televised sporting events, when my daughters have overcome a challenge, when most anything in my life warrants the exclamation.

Well, this week, I learned this: The momentum has shifted... in my favor!

You see, the years since I lost my full-time job at the newspaper have been a heart-crushing struggle in a variety of ways, from trying to get books published — with my agent quitting the business midstream — to trying to keep my bank account filled with at least enough money to turn around and send it right back out again to pay the bills.

Many people have similar stories to tell, all beginning about the same time my financial woes began. The year 2008 and most since have sucked for a lot of us. I'm not unique in the challenges I've faced, I know. That hasn't really made it any easier, and I've wondered again and again when things would start trending up instead of continuing the downward slide.

Finally, though, it seems the downward slide has ended. In one small but significant way, the momentum has indeed shifted. Thanks to the copy-editing position I recently started — with much thanks to my online friend Carol — I'm finally able to see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, finally see hope on the horizon.

I must admit that this new position is not a high-profile one by any means, and it doesn't pay huge amounts. But it's enough to make a difference.

It's enough to give me hope.

It's enough to make me feel things are on their way up.

It's enough to make me say, with all the conviction of Coach D:

THE MOMENTUM HAS SHIFTED!

photo: stock.xchng

Today's question:

What have you learned this week?

The challenges of grandmothers

Any woman who’s been a grandmother for even a short time knows that the grandma gig comes with a few unexpected pitfalls. For me—a long-distance grandma—it’s the 815 miles between my grandsons and me.

Here, some of the responses from the Grilled Grandmas when asked, “What is the most challenging part of being a grandma?”

Remembering my place—I’m not their mom and need to respect my daughter in her role. —Robin

I can’t fit them all on my lap at one time. —Alice

For me it’s the feeling of competition to “keep up” with the other grandparents. It would be very easy for it to turn uncomfortably competitive. —Vicki

Knowing that when I visit them I will have to say goodbye. —Mary

I am concerned about the future—what kind of world we seem to be living in right now, with the economy and the politics of mean-spiritedness. Heck, I worry about those things TODAY, not just for the future. —Olga

The most challenging part for me is not giving in to their every command. For the “serious” things I stand strong. But for those little that that it really doesn’t matter, GG let’s them do/have it. —Jules

I was not a perfect parent. So when I see my children doing things I know are not perfect but will do no harm, I am quiet. I save my comments for safety issues and answers to their questions. I am older and I have seen too much, so I could be a huge black cloud. I really do not want to do that. It is a challenge, to say the least. —Barbara

Wanting to keep them from all the bad things yet knowing that it is an impossible task. —Janie

Energy! How I wish I had more energy. There are so many things I want to do with my grandchildren, but I must remind myself to be realistic about what I can do. —Kay

The most challenging part of being a grandma is remembering that your wonderful, caring child IS the parent. —Nita

Keeping it “fair” when there’s more than one around! —Joan

Working full time and not being able to go to all of their activities. —Connie

The most challenging part for me is trying to divide my time and attention between my three young children and my grandson. I feel like I’m missing out on some of the “full grandmother” experience because I’m young and have little one of my own to care for. I don’t want my grandbaby to feel cheated out of “grandma time,” too. —Kelli

Dealing with their parents! I don’t mean that in a bad way—it’s just that they all have their own parenting methods, and I have to remember about what that is for each family! —Angel

Balancing just the right amount of love and fun with discipline. —Rita

Balancing everything. I am also caring for elderly parents and there can be a lot of appointments, health needs, etc. at both ends of the age spectrum. —Kaye

For me it is learning how to just let go and have fun and play. I am still learning how to do that. —Marlene

Taking the back seat in how the children are being raised. Opinion is not always welcomed, especially since the mother is my daughter-in-law and not my daughter. —Merci

I haven't met a challenging part yet in being a grandma. —Terri

For more wisdom and wit from these and other grandmothers, check out the Grilled Grandma Archives. (Click on the months in the right sidebar there to peruse the entire archives.)

Today's question:

What do you find most challenging about being a grandmother? What has been most challenging about being a mother?

Friday free-for-all: Come vent with me

Come vent, whine, give kudos—to others or yourself—or anything your heart desires today. It's been a rough week. Now is the time and consider this the safe place to share whatever you choose for our Friday free-for-all.

As the grandma in charge, I have the honor of going first. Here is what's on my mind at the moment:

Photo courtesy Paola Gianturco• I'm nervous. I'm writing this yesterday (funny how such things work) but I'm nervous about today. I have the privilege of spending the day in Denver with Paola Gianturco, an amazing photojournalist who has published five books focusing on women. Her latest, Grandmother Power, is all about grandmothers around the world, and I've been invited to be her guest at a slide presentation about the book, her incredible adventures and her photography. This woman rocks—just look at her website and you'll agree. I'm nervous because I want to do right by her in all things I share afterward about her, her book, and our day together. I'm also nervous because I rock not even one-quarter as much as she does and I hope I don't bore the <cuss> out of her. Stay tuned for more—on Paola, not my idiotic nerves and insecurity. (Well, unless I really do bore her to tears.)

• I wish arranged marriages were still socially acceptable. That wish has nothing to do with my son-in-law Preston. Or any other official boyfriend of my daughters.

• I also wish I were more committed to exercising. I was pretty embarrassed to let myself see myself in the full-length mirror at JCPenney the other day. I either need to willingly exercise more often or install a full-length mirror near my shower to shame myself into doing it. Or both.

• I'm so incredibly grateful for friends whom I've never met in person yet have helped me secure (paying) writing and editing gigs. Thank you, Lisa, Mary Dell, and Carol.

• I'm still praying my grandsons fully recover from the crud. Bubby's cough—but hopefully not the flu—has returned and now he's doing breathing treatments, too.

 

• I'm also still praying for our fellow grandma Kelley, whose three new grandbabies were recently diagnosed with RSV. Everyone here is welcome to send prayers and positive thoughts her way, too.

There you have it. I feel better already. It's always nice to get things off your chest. Now it's your turn!

Today's question:

What's on your mind/heart/chest today?

The flu and what I didn't do

I have a tendency to think rules and statistics don't apply to me. Not because I consider myself above others, but simply because I prefer to be an optimist and assume good things will happen, not bad.

Most times such positive thinking yields benefits. Recently, though, such positive thinking left me laid up and sick as a dog.

(Quick aside: As I pet my dogs yesterday morning while in my sickly state, I pondered that phrase, as my dogs are never sick. The phrase makes no sense.)

Anyway, what happened is this: For quite some time, I had it on my calendar to go visit Bubby and Mac at the end of January. Then, days before my visit, Bubby was confirmed as having the flu, and it was highly likely Mac would come down with it, too. The question arose regarding if I should cancel the trip, considering my MS and what exposure to the flu might do.

I chose to visit them anyway. I assured my daughter—their mother—there was no need to worry because I'd be just fine. And when Mac avoided the flu but came down with bronchiolitis during my visit, I again assured my daughter I'd be just fine.

And I was fine—while I was there. The day after I returned home, though, the super bugs from those little boys settled in, leaving me, well, sick as a dog.

So yesterday, in my sick-as-a-dog state, what did I do? Well, of all the things I should have done, here is what I didn't do:

• I didn't walk my dogs.

• I didn't write the book reviews I need to write.

• I didn't comment on the blogs I should have.

• I didn't complete three articles I was on deadline to write.

• I didn't shower until 4 p.m. (Though I did brush my teeth.)

• I didn't put on makeup nor do my hair after that shower.

• I didn't email sources for an article I need to write.

• I didn't respond to the gazillion emails I should have responded to.

• I didn't write the half-gazillion emails I should have written.

• I didn't read.

• I didn't write.

• I didn't even listen to any music.

What did I do?

I sat on the couch, wrapped up in an afghan with one of my cats, each of my (non-sick) dogs on their beds nearby and watched episode after episode of Downton Abbey—a show whose spell I didn't think I'd fall under but figured I'd see what all the hoopla is about.

What did I learn?

I learned that the rules and statistics do apply to me. Especially when it comes to catching the flu. Doubly that when it comes to being charmed by Downton Abbey.

(Though I've yet to learn why 'sick as a dog' is an acceptable phrase.)

photo: Marin-FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Today's question:

When were you last sick as a dog?