She Said What?!

OK, so I promised I would fill you in on some of the fascinating conversations I had with people at my conference. One was with a young woman who was getting her nails done next to me one afternoon. (“Hospitality suites” and freebies are part of the perks of blog conferences.)

She told me she was newly engaged and that she was anxious about the issue of having children. Because every woman knows the next question after “When are you getting married?” is “When are you having a baby?” To which I always want to say, “Just slow the heck DOWN, people! One thing at a time!”

This woman asked me if I had any advice for her. First, I said, “How much time do you have?” Then I proceeded to talk her ear off about everything I wish I’d known before I had kids, how having a baby changes your life and your relationship, and what no one ever tells you.

Before she could flee in terror, I wrapped up my lecture with some comments about how motherhood is different for everybody and it’s the best thing I ever did and how I’ve never met anyone who regretted it. (Which is true. Nobody who admitted it, anyway.) I really hope I didn’t ruin her life.

Then there was the woman I chatted with in line who had an adorable 5-mo-old baby, her third child. She told me that she’d attended the conference last year -- when she only had 2 kids, whom she left at home with their dad. Upon her return, her husband exclaimed that he didn’t know what he’d ever do if she died. He took out a life insurance policy on her that day. LOL! How’s that for recognizing and valuing a mom’s contribution?

I also met a woman who had a fascinating answer to why she ended up living where she lives. It involved career burn-out, romance, cross-country moves, and a plane crash. How’s THAT for interesting conversation?

These days, most of my conversations with people start like this: “So, how old is your baby?” and then move along to “Is he sleeping through the night?” and “Where’s your son in preschool?” Snooze…. Fest. It sure was nice to mix things up for a while.

What’s the most interesting conversation you’ve had lately?

Dreaming My Dreams: Blissdom

Hi, people! I’m back from my conference, the first time EVER I’ve left my boys for 3 whole days and nights. You’ll be happy to know that things improved greatly after my rocky start. For me; not necessarily for hubs back home.

It turns out school was cancelled the ENTIRE TIME I was gone, due to the snow. So he had to figure out alternate childcare arrangements, lunches, snowsuits, drop-offs and pick-ups, not to mention shoveling the walk every morning. The man’s a SAINT, I tell you. My gift to him is putting that in writing for all the world to read.

OK, so: back to the Blissdom conference. I could write at least 7 posts about it, but I will spare you since most of you reading this will probably never attend a blog conference. Although if you’re a blogger, I highly recommend it. They give you tons of free stuff and you’re surrounded by people who “get” you and make jokes about captcha and how much time they spend on Twitter.

For me, the conference was chock full o’ inspiration and self-revelations. After maybe a half-day of feeling like the uncool kid back in high school, I realized I am 36, not 16, and I no longer care about who’s cool and what they’re wearing and what I’m wearing and where I should sit. Everywhere you looked, there were friendly faces and people sitting alone and every type of fashion imaginable (including tiaras, sequins, jeans, pajamas, and Converse sneakers).

I realized that I am MUCH more comfortable striking up a conversation with someone in line or sitting next to me in a session than walking up to people at cocktail parties and thrusting a business card in their hand. I realized that I was allowed to walk out of sessions that didn’t interest me and go get a manicure instead. (Which I did, along with 2 shoulder massages. For free! That alone was worth the price of admission.)

For me, the best parts of the CONFERENCE were the speakers and the conversations. More on those later. The best part of the EXPERIENCE was having the space and time to think.

Think about that for a second – oh, wait, you probably can’t because you have people crying and asking you for snacks and where are their keys and can you put Spiderman’s head back on and when’s dinner. Until I was in my nice, clean, quiet hotel room, I didn’t fully realize that I rarely have time to THINK anymore. My head is so constantly spinning with grocery lists and to-do lists and schedules and chores and obligations that I almost never have time to simply think my own thoughts.

Check out this billboard I saw on my tour of downtown Nashville. Isn’t it great?

I went into the conference expecting to learn things – how-to’s, tips, resources. And while I did learn some, I got more out of the speakers and panel discussions about issues like work-life balance, authenticity, courage, and how to define success for yourself.

I had never heard of the opening keynote speaker, Brené Brown, but she blew me away with her funny, honest, and uncannily relevant presentation. (You can watch one of her popular talks here.) I am already halfway through her book, “The Gifts of Imperfection.” Another panelist whose book I’m looking forward to is Hollee Schwartz Temple's, “Good Enough is the New Perfect: Finding Happiness and Success in Modern Motherhood.”

I’m going to have to write a whole separate post about the interesting conversations I had with people. (Don’t worry, fellow conference attendees -– anonymity ensured!) It made me realize, again, that there is a whole wide world out there filled with fascinating people and ideas and opportunities. What a thrill to step outside my house-preschool-grocery store orbit for a few days and interact with it.

PIC O’ THE WEEK: I couldn’t wait to tell Miles that Nashville is home to “The Batman Building,” aka, AT&T Tower.

Why Did I Think This Was a Good Idea?

6:45am, Weds.: Miles bounds into our bedroom, exclaiming, “It’s snowing out of my window! A LOT!”
I think: Crap! I’m flying to Nashville today.

7:00am: School is canceled. Super. I’ve got stuff to pack, stuff to do for my writing class, and now, stuff to figure out with the kids and my trip. I hop in the shower, check my e-mail, then head downstairs so C. can get ready for work.

8:00am: The kids are bouncing around in their PJs and C.’s shoveling the walk. I call the sitter, the school, and 2 potential playdates and reschedule. In between, I remember things I need to pack and run up and downstairs finding them. I haven’t had my coffee yet.

9:00am: C. leaves for work, I turn the TV off and force the kids to come eat breakfast. The usual mayhem ensues.

10:00am: My flight is canceled. I begin to panic. The kids are running amok, still in their PJs. I debate throwing in the towel on this whole conference, but I don’t think I can get my money back. C. urges me to get on the phone with US Airways and rebook my flight.

10:30am: While I am on hold, Riley hits Miles in the head with a Matchbox car and Miles wails. “WAAAAAHHHH!!! HE HIT ME!!” At that exact moment, the ticket agent picks up. “Miles, PLEASE. Go to your room for a second, I’ll be right there,” I stage-whisper. “Another flight leaving at 3:30? Sure, great.”

Then Riley comes into the room, his hand covered with a goopy white substance. “Cweem?” He got into the diaper rash cream. He smears it on the couch. Awesome. “Connecting in Charlotte? OK, I’ll take it.”

11:00am: We all bundle up and go outside to build a snowman.

Noon: Lunch and hot chocolate.

1:30pm: I drop the kids off at a neighbor’s until C. can pick them up after work. With school canceled and an earlier flight, I have no choice. I feel guilty about it. I pray the baby will nap.

2:15pm: The airport shuttle driver is named Kesha. I wonder if this is a bad sign.

3:30pm: I board the plane and discover I am in the very last row. Super.

4:30pm: Bumpiest flight EVER. Did I mention I get sick on planes? Lucky for my seatmates I’m in the last row, right next to the bathroom.

5:25pm: I have to sprint through the enormous Charlotte airport to catch my connecting flight. No time for a drink or gum. Sorry, seatmates.

6:55pm: As the plane’s landing, I find out a couple people near me are also going to Blissdom. One has a cute baby with her. We chit-chat briefly, then go our separate ways.

7:30pm: I find the hotel shuttle, but have no ticket or cash. The driver takes pity on me. I get on the bus and sit by myself. I call home and cry. I am sick, tired, hungry, and miserable. I want to go home.

8:00pm: I get to the hotel. It’s like Atlantic City, Disneyworld, a mall, and a giant greenhouse rolled into one. The desk clerk tells me how to get to my room and I joke that I feel like Dora the Explorer: go over the stone bridge, through the rainforest, and down the magnolia hallway. I’m only kind of joking. The place is GINORMOUS. I wish I had Boots the monkey to keep me company.

8:45pm: I’m about to pass out from hunger. There’s a welcome party for the conference going on somewhere, but I look and feel like crap. It’s the last thing I want to do. I call my husband, who urges me to go. I put on some makeup and a fresh shirt, plaster on a fake smile, and head out.

9:00pm: Big shock, I’m lost. A supernice hotel employee walks me to the party, which it turns out is in a separate WING, past the rainforest, around the lake and through the village. I’m not joking.

9:15pm: I get a glass of wine and some cheese and stand around like an idiot. Then I recognize this guy (the keynote speaker, as it happens) and introduce myself. He is very nice, and introduces me to 2 bloggers whose names I recognize. They politely talk to me. I excuse myself to look for more food. I introduce myself to the only other person I see standing around by herself. She’s very nice, and for the first time all day I feel like myself.

9:30pm: Exhaustion and hunger overtake me. I go buy a slice of pizza and take it back to my room. I briefly wonder why I decided to fly 700 miles from home to attend a conference with a bunch of strangers when I could have gone to a spa with my friends. (Well, not that that was an option, but STILL.) Oh, yeah. Because I want to learn stuff. Right.

This self-improvement stuff is HARD. It’s awkward, stressful, and exhausting. Then again, so’s giving birth and I did that twice, right? Maybe the fun part will start tomorrow.

SHOUT-OUT O’ THE WEEK: I am so, so grateful to all the people who stepped up to offer help and support with the kids, this trip, etc. Good friends and acquaintances alike. And not least, my wonderfully supportive hubs and parents. I love you!

PIC O' THE DAY: This is the hotel. For real.

Flashback Friday: 8 Reasons I Love Blogs

In honor of my upcoming trip to Blissdom, I'm re-running this post I wrote last year. Enjoy!

8 Reasons I Love Mom Blogs

1. They’re entertaining. Where else will you find a picture of a kid who gave himself a Desitin facial? Or a baby’s reaction to peeing in his own face? Or a podcast by a preschooler trying lobster for the first time? Or an account of a work-at-home mom locking herself in the closet to conduct a conference call? On blogs, that’s where.

2. They’re interesting. I do love my magazines, but lots of them are cutting my favorite parts -- the personal essays, the humor pieces, the stuff about non-celebrities. When I get sick of “10 Ways to Lose the Baby Weight” I go online and read funny or introspective stuff by real people.

3. They’re helpful. Yes, there are a bazillion books and articles that tell me how to potty-train my kid. If you’ve read any of my past posts, you’ll know NONE OF THEM helped me. What did? Reading other moms’ accounts of their toilet trials and tribulations. And if you think that means I get all my medical info from sketchy, disreputable sources, you’re dumber than you think I am.

4. They’re informative. For non-mom stuff, too. I’m a writer, so I read blogs that tell me how to be a more prosperous one and answer questions about writing and publishing. I’m a blogger, so I read blogs that tell me how to blog better and make money at it. I’m a wife, so I read blogs about how to have a happier marriage. And I’m a HUMAN, so I read blogs about celebrity fashion disasters to learn from others’ poor sartorial choices. (OK, that’s a lie. Mostly I just laugh at the pictures.)

5. They’re timely. Let me regale you again with the tale of the time I wrote an essay about my firstborn that was published in a national magazine 3 YEARS LATER -- after the birth of my second child. It’s embarrassing enough that by the time a celebrity appears on the cover of a wedding magazine, they’re usually divorced. If I want to find out what’s going on NOW, I’ll check Twitter and blogs, thankyouverymuch.

6. They’re diverse. I read blogs written by people who live in exotic locales like Georgia, Utah, Idaho, Florida, Canada, the UK, and Japan. I read blogs by authors, actresses, chefs, lawyers, librarians, doctoral students, GUYS even. Turns out not everyone is a 30-something SAHM in NY or LA. Who knew??

7. They’re interactive. You want to know why I blog instead of writing all this stuff in my own private journal? Because I actually like to interact with other people! I know this may come as a shock from someone who blogs semi-anonymously and only reluctantly recently joined Facebook, but it’s true. I read what other people write and respond and vice versa. Sometimes we--GASP!!--meet in real life. You know, at conferences where we talk about tutus and stuff. ;)

8. Because I just do, OK?! Look, I don’t disparage people who like to collect Hummel figurines or breed Chinese crested hairless dogs or make their own socks. (At least not to their faces.) And I doubt those people feel the need to defend their interests or professionalism. (Although what do I know? There could be some huge uproar going on right now in the hairless-dog-breeding community. Heck, THIS POST could incite one!)

So I’ll stop listing the reasons why I like what I like and write what I write and read what I read and do what I do and just get on with it. Sound good?

On Breakups and Being Yourself

I’m going to a conference next week and I’m a little nervous. One, because it’s the first time I’ll be away from my boys (all 3 of ’em) for 3 days. And two, because I won’t know anyone else at the conference. Not one person. Now, I’ve flown solo at conferences before and ended up making friends, like the divine @themadmom, for one. But I’m still nervous.

“Be yourself,” is the most common advice. At conferences and in life, it seems. (Just click through this Wisdom from Mom Bloggers and you’ll start to sense a theme.) So on that note, let me tell you a little story – 2, actually -- about being yourself.

In my teens I went out on a couple of dates with a boy who was a lifeguard at the beach I went to. Let’s call him “Isaac.” One time, we were strolling along the boardwalk eating ice cream, and I noticed he was wearing a necklace. “What does that mean?” I asked him, pointing to the little gold symbol around his neck.

Looking puzzled, he said, “You don’t know? But you’re Jewish!”

“Um, no, I’m not. I go to Catholic school,” I replied, equally puzzled.

“But you sit on the Jewish part of the beach!” he blurted.

This was news to me, since I didn’t even know there WAS a Jewish part of the beach. But that was it for Isaac and me. The next time I saw him, he was with another redheaded girl who was wearing a star of David around her neck.

Fast-forward to one summer during college. “Jin” and I were both counselors at a sleep-away camp. We took a liking to each other, and our romance progressed to the point where, after we returned to our respective colleges several states apart, he came to visit me for a long weekend. In the middle of that weekend, he abruptly broke up with me. He realized, he said, that we had no long-term potential because he came from a traditional Chinese family and was going to marry a Chinese girl – which I’m not.

Now, this breakup struck me as cruel and unfair. First of all, he’d known all along that I was not Chinese. It’s not like I tried to put one over on him and then suddenly morphed into a WASP. And second, there was nothing I could do to change the fact that I was not Chinese. Or Jewish. (At 16, converting was not on my radar.)

Looking back on these breakups now, I’m actually glad they happened the way they did. Had these guys said they wanted a girl who dressed differently, read Russian novels, or had dark hair, for instance, I might have tried to change myself. But Jewish and Chinese? Sorry, I’m out.

Not to mention that if I’d settled down with either of these guys, I would never have met my husband, a guy who loves me for being myself. (Although he might argue that I am sometimes TOO MUCH myself.) Besides, the college guy would probably have been on board with the whole Chinese mother thing, which would be a total dealbreaker.

So what can you learn from these stories, besides that I don’t have a type when it comes to guys? It’s not “Be yourself and everyone will love you.” It’s not “Be yourself and you’ll have everything you ever wanted.” I guess the lesson is, be yourself because it’s impossible – not to mention exhausting – to be anything but. At age 36, with 2 kids, a great husband, and a lot more confidence than I had in my teens and 20’s, I’ll be taking that lesson with me to my conference. Wish me luck!

Bloggy Boot Camp Baltimore

I attended my first blogging conference this weekend. There, I learned some important things. Such as:

1) There are a lot of people out there with much better haircuts than me.
2) There are a lot of people out there with way more kids and page views than me.
3) Not all bloggers are introverts.
4) I really should have brought business cards.
5) I have more balls guts than I thought.

First, you should know that I crashed the conference, which was called Bloggy Boot Camp. I was not registered or invited. I waited too long and the conference was sold out. When I woke up on Saturday morning, I was seething with jealousy and regret. WHY hadn’t I just signed up?? Actually, I didn’t think I was available that day, but it turned out I was. And I had childcare and everything!

At my husband’s urging, I decided to just go down there and hope they had a no-show or two. Hey, it happened at our wedding. Why not a conference? The whole time I was showering, picking out a blog-conference-worthy outfit, and obsessively checking Twitter to see what people already at the conference were saying, I was thinking, “I can’t do this. It’s so forward. So obnoxious. So NOT ME.” I was as bad as those White House gatecrashers! Only not as well-dressed or connected, obviously.

So you know what happened? I showed up and...they let me in. Nicely, graciously, totally no big deal. Whoa. Who could’ve predicted THAT?

The moment I slipped into my seat, I knew I had done the right thing. First of all, people? Bloggers are FUNNY. None of those stiff, boring Powerpoint presentations droning on and on. People were laughing, shouting out questions, sharing information. I didn’t even want to go to the bathroom because I was afraid I’d miss something. Even the woman running the conference was so down-to-earth that she took off her shoes halfway through and walked around barefoot the rest of the day. Awesome.

There seems to be this mythical lore surrounding “mommy bloggers” right now. They’re always being talked about in the media and by advertisers and PR people, and it seems like every other mom you meet at the park has a blog. Dooce has become a household name. (Blogger joke: Some family member reads the article du jour mentioning Dooce.com and says, “Hey, this woman is actually making real money from her blog. YOU should do that!” Ya think?)

Sometimes the attitude toward mom bloggers is patronizing. Sometimes it’s positive (“Ka-CHING!” think the advertisers). And sometimes it’s perplexed. Why would someone devote all this time to a blog when a scant few are making any money from it? Who reads it? What’s the point? And why attend a conference if all you do is write about your kids and your husband’s crappy housekeeping habits? (Not me, of course.)

Well, there are probably as many different answers as there were women at that conference. I met people who blog about fashion, food, saving money, even how to make your own tutu. I met lawyers, photographers, stand-up comedians, mothers of triplets, people who make their own yogurt, people who flew cross-country to be there. And that was just at my lunch table.

I bet it would surprise some people to know that there were discussions about media kits and advertising rates and work agreements in between conversations about “The Bachelor” and potty training. That’s right. We mom bloggers are a multifaceted bunch.

For me, it was a chance to meet some people IRL (that’s “in real life” for you non-texters) who share my passion for blogging. It was an opportunity to gain some knowledge and support for my labor of love. (My OTHER labor of love, besides the 2 little ones at home.) It was a chance to spend an entire day on my own, doing something *I* wanted to do. How often does THAT happen?

But boy, did I miss my boys. Within minutes after the conference ended I was picking up my son’s prescription and heading home to nuke frozen peas and lay out Batman pajamas. Later, I knew I’d jump back online and start implementing what I’d learned. That’s my life -- a messy mix of mom, wife, writer, blogger, domestic, and professional. Just the way I like it.

SHOUT-OUT: To my amazingly supportive hubs, who always encourages me at whatever I do. *Love.*