I was ten the year I had my one and only big sleepover. My mom felt ten was special and deserved to be treated as such. A sleepover with as many girls as I wanted to invite. I believe I had twelve girls over. Every girl in my class. I’d even invited the new girl, who I wasn’t a fan of. She’d been a shit starter from the second she walked in our class a month earlier. But I felt bad for her, so I invited her anyway.
I went to a small private school and anyone new was immediately noticed and popular. Mostly because hi, you are new! New and shiny. This chick though? She was a nightmare. I just hadn’t realized it completely. I’d been told by a few people that they wouldn’t come if she wasn’t invited. So yeah. I invited her.
My party started off just great. Everyone showed. We did a big scavenger hunt in groups around my neighborhood. There was a lot of shrieking and running around. Pizza and cake were eaten, presents were opened. It was the greatest birthday party ever.
Then my mom went to bed.
For some reason, one which I don’t remember anymore, my best friends younger sister Sarah was at the party as well. She was eight or so. A sweet kid who I’d known my entire life.
The new girl (Nicole) decided this sweet little girl was her mark for the night. I can’t tell you what all she did to her. I probably didn’t see 99% of it. All I know is that at 6am my mom came storming into the room declaring that we were all in trouble. Sarah had waited until then to tell my mom whatever had been done to her. I was in shock, but hey I was in trouble despite it. Nicole of course, blamed it all on me. I’ll never forget how mad my mom was. I’ll never forget crying as each of my friends parents were called and asked to come get their kids.
I never heard what all happened. It wasn’t nice though. This I know.
What I also know is that for the following month, I was the most unpopular kid in school. Until Nicole managed to disrupt everyone elses lives as well. As she befriended each girl in turn and made them turn on their old friends and then she turned on them…well then each one of them was suddenly nice to me again. At the end of the year, Nicole had run out of friends and funny enough, she didn’t show up the following year.
It made me fear sleepovers. With good reason I suppose. Girls can be seriously mean. I had a few after, but no more than say 3-4 girls. I always wanted the big group sleepover as a teen, but I never did it. I swore to myself that I’d never let my kids have a big sleepover like that.
I’ve managed to stick to it. Until now. Morgan will be ten years old in exactly a week. Since she turned four, she has been asking for a big sleepover as her birthday party. Every single year. Each year, I’ve put her off. We’ve done dinners at fancy restaurants with a few friends. We’ve done bouncy places. We’ve had a swim party, a gymnastics party and a cosmic bowling party.
But she’ll be ten. I, like my mother before me, believes that ten is special. So after trying to get her to have it at the wall to wall trampoline place didn’t work, I agreed. She invited twelve girls and ten RSVP’d yes. That’s eleven girls at my house for a sleepover this coming Saturday. Bailey and Harrison will spend the night with their dad, even though it’s my weekend. I’m not taking any chances. I know a lot of these girls, but I don’t know them well.
I’m scared people. I shouldn’t be. Morgan is a million times more with it than I was at her age. She won’t ignore anything and she won’t hesitate to come to me if need be. But girls are sneaky and mean. I’m wondering what the hell I set myself up for.
I fear the sleepover.
Have you ever sat at breakfast on a relatively calm and peaceful morning and thought, how could I change this to be a morning filled with screaming and tantrums? I mean really, what’s a morning without a good ole fashioned tantrum?
Well no fear my friends, I have the answer for you. All you have to do is realize that your children weren’t with you on Sunday and so their nails and toenails haven’t been trimmed.
Simply take out the clipper and voila: TANTRUMS AND SCREAMING!!!!!
You are very welcome.
1. Next year I’d like to leave the country for Halloween. Preferably to a country that doesn’t know what Halloween is. My reasons why, are as follows:
1.a. The expensive, purchased by my mother, costume that Morgan just HAD TO HAVE, suddenly wasn’t what she wanted to wear, at 4pm yesterday. She’d worn it on Friday to school, therefore it was old and now uncool. Sigh. The life of an almost nine year old who thinks she is seventeen. She managed to find enough stuff in our play clothes to form herself a new costume. Some sort of pirate witch. As aggravated as I was? I am also sorta impressed. I mean, the girl looked great. But I was super freaking annoyed.
1.b. Bailey reached a level of sugar insane-ness yesterday that can only be called epic tantrum meltdown insanity. That about covers it. I nearly didn’t let her go out, in her sweat pants and shirt with barely any make-up on. She was supposed to be a mummy, but wouldn’t let me wrap her up. Lucky for her, she’s six and cute, so I let her live. Also, people still gave her candy.
1.c. At 3pm yesterday, my ex’s aunt brought us the ugliest pumpkin ever. To carve. At 3pm on Halloween. Yeah, it didn’t happen. It sat on my porch all lonely and un-carved. She had good intentions. She only bought it, because it was for charity, but still. A pumpkin. The day of Halloween.
1.d. I was stupid enough to think that if I let the kids eat candy all weekend, they’d not want it by today. FAIL. They all thought they should get some at breakfast this morning. Uh no.
Like I said, next year? NO HALLOWEEN!!!!!!
2. I should not be allowed to be on Twitter while under the influence of NyQuil. If you’d like proof of why, well you’ll have to go look at my Tweets from Friday night. If you choose to do this however, please don’t think less of me.
3. Most people agree with me, that Willy Wonka, never should have been re-made. They ruined it.
That is all. I hope you all had a great Halloween. Tell me, what were your kids? Did you dress up?
ps. Can we hold off on all the dang Thanksgiving talk for at least a week? Please? I am just not ready.
If so? Don’t bother buying tickets. It’s a waste of money.
Years ago, I believe in 1999, Logan and I were on vacation in Colorado when one of his cousins had extra tickets to the Lilith Fair. We were thrilled to get to go, since we’d tried to get tickets to see it in Los Angeles and weren’t able too. It was an all afternoon/evening outdoor concert at Fiddler’s Green. We had grass seats, which was totally fine. There were about twelve of us who went. We got there around 2pm and hung out on the grass. A few people we were with had real seats but they were still allowed to sit on the grass with us during the day. We spread out blankets and played cards. We bought food and drinks and took them back to our little area in the grass. We could hear the bands that were playing on the smaller stages, even though no one played on the main stage until say 5pm.
There was a huge area that was filled with different food booths. You could buy t-shirts, get hemp tattoos, see weird art. Whatever. It was an experience. The smaller stages were filled with lesser known women bands, but I remember knowing some of them.
When the concerts started on the main stage it was amazing. We, in one night, saw Sarah McLaughlin, Sheryl Crow, Indigo Girls, Shawn Colvin, Lisa Loeb and my all time favorites, the Dixie Chicks. It was five or six hours of non-stop concerts. Sheryl Crow came out in the middle of an Indigo Girls song and jumped up on their piano. Lisa Loeb ran across the stage while someone was singing with a kite. Sheryl Crow told jokes before she sang. The Dixie Chicks were freaking amazing. At the end they all did a few songs together. It was huge and it was fun and it still goes down in history as one of my all time favorite concert events ever.
Fast forward to this spring.
I heard Sarah McLaughlin was re-doing the Lilith Fair. I waited. I watched for signs that it was true. She announced her line up. It was highly impressive. You can see it here if you’d like. I signed up to be notified early, so I could buy tickets when they came out. They finally went on sale. When I saw that Sheryl Crow, Sarah McLaughlin, Sugarland, Court Yard Hounds and Miranda Lambert were all going to come to the Denver show, I bought two tickets. Pricey. Expensive. $135 a piece tickets. I figured maybe I’d get my mom to come out and we’d go. In the end though, I decided to give the second ticket to my friend, for her birthday. Which was today. Figured a concert on her birthday was a good present. She was thrilled.
She and I both re-arranged our schedules. We made sure our kids are covered, took time off work, both of us even found people to go walk our dogs at some point. Then we get there. We stand in line to get in. No biggie. We have to toss our sunscreen because it’s in a spray can. Which was fine, our bad. We go to the small stage area and there is no place to sit. It’s all rocks. You could only stand….I mean unless you like rocks up your butt. There are only like 6 booths and they are only giving out samples of crap. A coupon. A teeny spray deodorant. Nothing to do. Nothing to see. We’d seen it all in three minutes flat. There was no place to sit and absolutely no shade. Then we saw the sign. The bands listed sign. The, this is when people are playing sign. NONE of the people we had come to see, besides Sarah McLaughlin were listed on it. She wasn’t going to play until last. We literally only knew one other person on the list and neither of us are fans of her. We walked over to where you could buy food. There were three drink booths and two food booths. Ten bucks for beer. Six bucks for a hot dog. Those were basically the only choices. Hot dogs, cheeseburgers, crappy beer or water. You can buy better food at the Costco food stand. Heck, I can buy better food outside the Home Depot on Saturdays. That guy sells brats and churros and crazy shit. Not that we went to eat or drink, I’m just saying, it was seriously limited.
We bought five dollar bottles of water and tried to find some spare concrete to sit on. Because, hi, guess what, nothing is on the main stage till 5pm, so we aren’t seating until then. Yeah. No place to sit and they wouldn’t let us go to our seats early. More and more and more people started filling into a tiny confined space. It was hot. There was no place too move and hundreds of people wondering why we couldn’t just go sit in our seats. This one woman kept inching closer and closer to me. I told my friend, if she gets any closer, she will soon be in my lap. It wasn’t even her fault, there was just that many people there.
We started asking people around us about the other bands supposedly showing up. Oh they’re not, one woman said. Yeah, I guess it wasn’t doing so well so some of them bailed. So I paid $135 a pop, to wait around until 9pm, on a weeknight, to just see Sarah McLaughlin? Whose CD I wasn’t impressed with enough to buy? Yeah, pretty much.
We sat there for about 45 minutes fuming, before we finally decided to leave. That it wasn’t even worth the time. The money was a waste, but to waste our time and be grouchy on top of it? To see shitty bands we’d never even heard of? Not worth it.
We were not the only ones either. We walked out with six other people. The people who’d been sitting next to us had been debating it. There were six of them. We had people leaving in front of us and people leaving behind us. We were offered tickets, free tickets, by eight other people. I offered my tickets to five different people in the parking lot and each of them said, no, we’re thinking about leaving too. I came so close to handing my tickets to the homeless guy at the freeway entrance.
Sarah? You have lost my business. Forever. I will never again buy your albums. I will never again believe anything you say. I may never again go to an outdoor concert that supposedly has multiple acts. You pretty much just ruined it for me. Maybe you don’t care. Maybe you will never see this. It’s more than the money. It’s the principal of it. You sold something and what you sold was a lie. I’m upset. As much for the friend whose birthday I just ruined as for myself. The money? Well it’s gone and I’ve wasted money on stupider crap before. It was a lot of money to waste though. I’m not exactly rolling in it, you know? I’m a single mom with three kids who just lost half a day of work and $300 on top of that.
I’ve been to better free concerts than this. Heck, a few years ago….the only time I’ve even seen Sugarland in concert, it was a free outdoor concert at night in freaking Palmdale, California. I remember driving up there wondering if we were being dumb. I showed up, with my husband and my little girls and we had an absolute blast. We ate tons of great food and sat on the grass and watched a two hour free concert.
This? Didn’t even come close to a free concert at a fair. It wasn’t worth the gas to drive there, much less the money I spent. I’d of stayed tonight if ANYONE you said was going to be there had been there. Just one of them. But no, it was all a lie, so we left.
I wasted my time, my money, my energy and my faith in concerts. I’m disappointed. I’m grouchy. Mostly though? I wish I’d gotten what I paid for. That would have been cool. Shrug. I won’t make the mistake again.
You lost two fans today.
Truly. I thought that I’d finally fully lost my marbles, as I sat having Sunday brunch with my kids and their dad. On his weekend. Yeah. Insane is the thing that made sense to me.
He’d texted me early in the morning. The kids and I are going to (insert name of our favorite brunch restaurant here) and wondered if you’d like to join us. I considered ignoring the text. I considered replying no thank you, see you at 4pm when you bring the kids home. Instead, I said yes. In that moment, my reasoning on saying yes, was mostly my wanting to see my kids….and wanting french toast. They do make some amazing french toast.
After brunch I took myself to a movie, then went to the grocery store and went home to do laundry. (I lead a very exciting life, yo.)
It wasn’t until I got home and said on Facebook that I’d gone to brunch with my ex and saw some of the responses, that I started thinking about what I’d really done. Not that I was insane, although I still fully support this theory. No, it was the, I just did something for my kids, that I’ve wanted for 25 years and will never get. I acted like an adult. Logan acted like an adult. We put aside our issues and hurt feeling, for our kids. For an hour and a half, we sat in a restaurant. Together. With our kids.
I have two pictures of my parents together. One from their wedding (people, always hire a wedding photographer, serious) and the other is a real shitty picture of me with them, when I was about two years old. That’s it. They were married eleven years (yes, I see the similarities, trust me) and those are the only two pictures. To be fair, there are tons of pictures of my first few years of life. Tons with my mom, some with my dad, boxes of me doing exciting things like spitting up. No others of them together. If I close my eyes and think really hard, I remember them together. Only in a few memories though. Honestly? I’m not sure those are real, they may be memories I made up. Most of my memories of childhood, even from the time they were together, is with one of them. I’ve separated them in my mind. Life with mom, life with dad. No crossovers.
At my wedding they sat at separate tables. At my graduation they sat rows apart. Nothing they’ve ever said about each other, in my life time, has been nice. Nothing.
I think that if it weren’t for my step-mom this would be different. She’s an evil-hose-beast. However, I have no way of knowing for sure.
I’ll be 30 years old in April and I’ve long since given up hope of my parents every acting like they once loved each other. My only proof is a picture of them cutting their wedding cake. Her in a violet colored dress, him with long hippie hair. It’s the way they are touching each others hands; the way he is smiling at her; the way her eyes are sparkling. My proof, that once, thirty-seven years ago, they did love each other.
I don’t want that for my kids. As much as it pains me to be around Logan right now, especially after last week being what it was, I will continue to on occasion, still do things with him. Small doses, yes. Because I’m hurt and I’ve not figured out how not to love him. But I’ll do things anyway. Because my kids are worth it.
I don’t want Bailey to have to close her eyes and think hard to find a memory with us both in it. She, at five years old, is the exact age I was when my parents divorced. I don’t want Morgan to wonder which of us to invite to dinner with her first love or in her first home one day. Or to wonder where to have to seat us at her wedding, because she knows we won’t speak at all, if placed at the same table. I don’t want Harrison to ever have to wonder if we loved each other when he was born, to wonder if we ever were happy together.
Maybe I’m insane, maybe I’m deluding myself. However, I have this hope that I can save my kids a tiny bit of the drama I’ve lived through. We’ll see.
Yesterday though? I choose to put aside my feelings for an hour and a half. For them.
-All in all we had a great Thanksgiving. However, there was some family drama as their always is. I have a cousin who believes the world revolves around her. She always seems to get her way. She is the biggest asshat. Even bigger than her mother, which we all thought wasn’t possible. She didn’t want me to see her daughter (long story, but her oldest kid lives with her dad and step-mom in Colorado, about five hours away from us, but they were in Texas visiting family as well) and made it impossible for me to see her while we were in Texas. (Until this time last year, the girl practically lived at my house and I miss her.) On the drive home yesterday though, we ended up driving behind them and they called us when they noticed it and we all stopped and had lunch together and I’ve invited them to my house for Christmas. Take that, cousin.
-My great-aunt passed away on Wednesday night. She’d had a stroke the previous Friday and I decided not to mention it. It just didn’t feel right. Anyway, we didn’t stay for her funeral, which was yesterday. I did help plan it. It put a slight damper of the holiday. We decided to celebrate her life by doing it all anyway. She would have wanted us too. It did change the mood of the week though.
-We saw the world’s smallest skyscraper. Seriously. See?
It’s four stories high. It’s all small and tiny and cute. The story is this: at some point, lets say 100 years ago, although it may not have been that long ago. What? It’s my story. Anyway, this great businessman came to town. He told the town that he could build them the greatest, highest skyscraper in all of Texas. They looked over the plans, which looked amazing. He told them it would bring people from all over the world to see it. They could charge admission. They agreed and paid him his rate. He built it. They were outraged at how tiny it was. He told them that they’d signed the contract, they’d approved the plans, it wasn’t his problem. He left town. Turns out, the plans were exactly how he said they were. However, the town folks had not noticed that he’d used inches instead of feet in his measurments. It was clear as day on there, but in the excitement, they’d failed to notice it.
-We took roses to put on my grandparents and great-grandparents graves. Took us about 30 minutes to find them. Good thing we did too, since my grandpa’s middle initial is wrong on there. Nobody had noticed it when grandma passed last December.
-Football is a fierce subject in Texas. Doesn’t matter if it is the NFL or college. They don’t care where you live, if you are in Texas, you are a Texas fan. The end. To have a little fun, I pretended not to know a thing about football. I like seeing that vein in my uncle’s neck pop out.
-As a family, we all went and saw Blind Side on Saturday. See that movie. Trust me. It is phenomenal. I am now a Raven’s fan. I had to ask where they played and I don’t even care that I’ve never been to Baltimore. I am now a Raven’s fan. Everyone had a favorite line of the movie. We spent the following two hours at dinner discussing it. My favorite line? Tim McGraw plays the dad and he turns to his wife, played by Sandra Bullock, and says, “who’d of thought, we’d of had a black son, before we’d met a democrate?” Cracked me up.
-My youngest cousin is seventeen years old. He’s a great kid. Funny, sweet, easy going. His girlfriend made him go see the Twilight movie on Friday night. I guess there is a part where the one buff guy rips off his shirt, when the girl is bleeding? Anyway, D stood up in the theater and said, WAS THAT REALLY NECESSARY?? Then he said to his girlfriend, H, don’t worry ALL GUYS look like that. I’m not sure D still has a girlfriend. If so, he owes her big time. He’d already been texting his dad and my husband for scores to the Texas vs. A&M game. Ha. Then again, a smart girl would have gone with her friends, not her boyfriend. Seventeen year old boys don’t care which vampire is hotter.
-The twelve hours in the car on the way to Texas was not so bad. Girls played nicely, read books, watched movies and listened to music. The boy managed to notice every, single bird that flew by; he napped for hours; he watched Cars and was generally a happy little dude. The way home to Texas took thirteen hours, but it felt like twenty-seven hours. The girls fought; with me, with each other. Batteries in iPods died. Movies were toooooo boring. This song is stupid, I don’t like this candy. On and on and on, it went. At 7am, the questions about how much longer started. The answer of ALL DAY AND STOP ASKING was only met with tears. Instead of napping, Harrison screamed and hit people. We had Cars on constand loop, just hoping he’d stop for ten minutes at a time. Then the last three hours, he choose to sob. Non-Stop. For three hours.
-Mostly though, we ate too much, we slept too little and we had a great week. How’d you guys do?
I can look at things from all sides. Generally.
Some days though I have a real hard time seeing the positive in anything. I am not the world is ending type. I don’t believe in the 2012 hype. I don’t believe that California is going to fall into the ocean. I don’t worry about the polar ice caps melting and us all being frozen alive. At least not in my lifetime. I don’t worry about dying for some reason. Probably a good thing too.
No, it’s the smaller things that I worry about. The things that I have no real ability to control. I wouldn’t say I’m a pessimist. I am close though. Maybe a pessimist with optimistic moments?
I am the girl who envisions car crashes. I get nervous when anyone else is driving but me. When I get a phone call from someone I haven’t talked to in forever, I assume the worst. I have this weird theory that if I think about all the possibilities, it won’t happen. I think about possible injuries before I even do something. I picture in my mind how I will deal with it. I don’t worry about things as I am doing them, just before.
What can I say? I’m an over thinker. I think about conversations that are going to be awkward, before they happen. I think abut everything the other person could say and how I could respond to make it easier. Doesn’t always work, but I try.
I am the mom who doesn’t watch her kids climb on playground equipment, because if I watch I envision the worst. I sit there on my phone, or watch other kids. I am the mom who holds onto her kids shirts on mountain adventures. If I am holding their shirt, they won’t fall off the cliff that is 35 feet away. I *may* be a bit of a control freak.
Climb a mountain? No. Dive off a high dive? Heck no. Sky dive? ARE YOU INSANE!!!
The thing is, despite this, I enjoy life. I do. I have fun. I am not afraid to try new things. I just know that there are certain things I will never do. This won’t make sense, but I’d love to para sail, even though I’m afraid of heights, but I’d never even consider bungee jumping.
Where this really comes into play is when something happens, where I have no control, I freak first, think later.
Last week and for the few weeks prior my husband and I were having major communication issues. All we did was fight. He couldn’t seem to talk to me without starting an argument. As time wore on, I was convinced it was me. I was convinced he didn’t love me anymore. That he wanted to divorce me.
Like I said, I freak first, think later.
The truth is so far from what I thought. Unfortunately this is where I stop talking about it. I know that sounds like a cop out and for that I’m sorry. But my husbands personal issues are his story to tell, not mine and he doesn’t want them shared on here. He’s okay though, just having some issues that he needs to figure out. He didn’t know how to talk to me about it, which just made it seem so much worse.
I wanted to apologize to you all. I am sorry if I worried all of you. I am a freaker. I am a pessimist. I was scared. I thought something and it clouded my world for a few days. It turned out to be not true. Although, since I’m not a mind reader (my crystal ball seems to be defective) it was hard to know what the heck was going on. Thank god it wasn’t what I thought. What we have to deal with, what is going on with Logan is fixable. Deal-able.
I couldn’t have fixed what I thought was the problem. I couldn’t have fixed him not loving me anymore. Luckily I don’t have to try.
I’m at the park with the kids yesterday afternoon and while the girls are taking turns pushing the baby in the swing, I decide to check in on Twitter. Yes, I am that person. The woman with her Crackberry permanently attached to her hand. Anyway, I’m reading tweets and something someone had said cracked me up and I laughed out loud.
Twitter or Facebook, this woman near me asks. I turn and notice this woman, who I hadn’t even realized had sat down. Twitter I said, without thinking. But I use Facebook too.
Oh what’s your Twitter name? I can follow you.
Uh, it’s protected I said. We’re from California and I use it to keep in touch with friends out there. Oh, okay was her answer. Then Harrison called out to me and I got up and walked away.
I lied. To a random stranger. She looked nice. She had kids. She was at the park in my neighborhood. I still lied to her.
Why?
Well that is a hard one. I am going to be dead honest here. I don’t ever intend on telling my family or friends about this blog. (Yes my husband knows, but he wishes he didn’t. He probably wishes what I said to her were true, that you all were old friends from California.) I don’t use Facebook for realz. I mean, yes I have one. But not one that my family could find. Twitter? well the same thing there, although a few people know that I use it, but none of them seem interested in it at all. People like my mother for example could care less what Twitter is, although I have explained it to her.
I can’t make friends with people in my area through blogging or Twitter and think I can keep it quiet. Or separate. My children have the biggest mouths in the world. I don’t fault her at all, but Morgan is the one who mentioned my previous blog to my aunt, which caused HUGE family drama, because I was too open, too honest and she still won’t speak to me.
My blog life, my online life, is separate from my life in many, many ways. I tried it the other way and it blew up in my face. People, my own step-mother won’t speak to me because of it. Unless I am standing in front of her, I don’t exist. My own father won’t talk to me more than once a month because of it. (Well that and they are both asses.) Iit’s been a few years. I don’t have much family on that side and almost none of them really speak to me anymore because of the secrets they believe I shared with the world. They aren’t wrong, I did. I said things I shouldn’t have, because I believed I was safe. But hi, when you use your children’s real names and they are not very common names, you are easy to find.
This is me. This space is my place to be me. I don’t lie here. I’ve told you all straight out that my family and blog life are separate. This is where I can be brutally honest. More honest and open than I am in real life, I’ll tell you that right now. This is where I say, I am struggling right now to maintain. I am struggling with my depression right now. I am unhappy right now. I am sad. My heart hurts.
I can say this all here and much more, because this is my space. My space to be me, without repercussions from my friends and family. Logan does not read this blog. He has asked that I not discuss his personal life too much, but I could and he wouldn’t even know it. He has left this as my deal.
But now I’m going to a conference. A conference with what like 1000 other bloggers? I am starting to wonder why I am doing this. Why I want to meet you all as much as I do, when I will come home and pretend I was elsewhere. Until the Keynote thing, I thought it would be okay. I can remain anonymous if I am 1 of a 1000. It’s harder to remain anonymous when you are on a keynote with 15 other bloggers. I don’t have the answers. I am going to go to the conference, read my post and have a blast. But I don’t know what happens when I get back and it scares me.
Is that okay? Does it bother you guys? Are you okay with me, the me you know here, if you know I will most likely never introduce you to my husband, children or friends? Is it okay that this is my thing? My one place in my life, where it’s just about me? Will you still be my friends despite the fact that I’d lie to a random stranger about being on Twitter, because it keeps the peace in my life?
The lines are blurry. I’ve let them get blurry, because I consider you guys my friends. True, real, friends. No question about that. But the blurriness scares me.
There’s this thing that I’m going to in a few weeks. BlogHer. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Might ring a bell? (For those of you not going, I am sorry but this post is all about it. I’ve been there, I’ve wanted to go twice previously. I get how it can be to listen to it all the time. Please forgive me though, because I need to talk about this.)
So um, yeah, I am going to be part of the Community Keynote at the conference. A post that I wrote was submitted by the lovely and talented Stacey. I told her she could submit it when she asked, because I honestly didn’t think it would get chosen. I know that sounds bad, but it’s true. I have no pre-conceived notions about my writing. I know it’s not the best. It’s just me, raw and un-cut.
However my post did get chosen. I am absolutely honored by this. I can not even explain how honored and thrilled I am. To be a part of something like this is just beyond me. But I am going to be part of this. I am going to get up there and read my post to the two five gulp hundreds of people who could possibly be in the room.
Can you feel my fear over the screen?
I am terrified. I have no doubts that I can do it. That’s not the problem. I may talk to fast and sweat a bit, but I am positive I can get through it. But I’m still scared shitless. That’s a lot of freaking people, yo. Serious. Some of the blogging greats will be reading during this keynote. People who I adore, people who are extremely great writers. (I did hire a professional hand holder, a drink giver and possibly a body guard. Won’t they be sad when they realize, I pay in Jelly Beans.) I don’t know that I measure up.
This came up after I realized that I was already nervous about the conference in general. Nervous being a mild word. Nightmares. I’m having BlogHer nightmares. Going to this conference is so far out of my comfort zone, I can not even begin to tell you.
I’ve been doing this blogging gig, off and on since 2005. But I’ve never gone to a conference. I’ve literally only met four blogger. I don’t tell people that I blog. I won’t tell people when I get back. My family and friends think I am going on a girls weekend. That is just the way it is.
So I’m scared. I don’t know what to expect. I’ve heard all the stories, the rumors and seen all the posts for years. But reality is different.
I’m hoping that some of you who have gone before can help me out on a few small questions I have. Might put my mind at ease a bit. Anyone of you who is new to this too, maybe we can be buddies? Having buddies is always better than wandering around by yourself. Right?
Ok, here goes nothing.
1. Does it matter if I wear jeans and flip-flops the entire time? I keep hearing people discuss dresses and such, but that’s just not something I’m into. But I don’t want to be the only one looking like her wardrobe sucks.
2. Business cards? Is this like a must? Are you doing it?
3. How many of you really think you’ll go to the Community Keynote?
4. Am I the only one scared shitless?
5. If I hide in a closet, will one of you bring me drinks?
I’ll leave it at this for now. I’m working on another post, one that I stole from Undomestic Diva, on what you should know about me before we meet in person. Maybe you should know that I am a totally idea thief. Nah, you all knew that already.
Okay, halp, please.
First off let me just say that if one of you lived here and we had a play date, I’m sure it would be fine.
I? Am not a play date type of a mom. I am spoiled. This is what comes from your best friends having kids at the same times as you. Built in best friends, second generation style. No need for silly things like random play dates with parents you don’t know.
I should have known, should have remembered; that I’m not a play date person. I should have never said yes. This woman, whose demon spawn…I mean child, is in Baileys class, has been asking me to have a play date for a while. I don’t hang out at the school much. I mean, I volunteer, but I don’t spend the whole time my kid is in pre-school talking outside with the other mothers. Some of them do and that’s fine, I’m just not one of them. Because when my girls are in school, I tend to have very important things to do. Like blogging.
So, this woman had been asking me for a play date and kept telling me that our girls play together so nicely, so I finally agreed. We went over to her house on Friday afternoon.
First, her demon child kept hitting my kid. Oh she had a cookie today, was the mom’s response. Ok, because that is a great response to your kid whacking mine upside the head. Don’t bother to stop her from doing it a few more times. A child who has had a cookie, can’t ever be told to knock it off, I suppose.
Then she started talking, non-stop. The mom, not the kid. The kid is behind in speaking. Most likely because her mom talks incessantly. About absolutely nothing. No joke, she’d ask me a simple question; like, how old is your baby? Then she’d interrupt me two words in to tell me about some random story about her life. Because her kids were almost five months once and they… I don’t know, ate a lot? Then it led to a story about when she was a baby and then about her mom’s life. Also, every story somehow led to Scouts. I guess her son is in scouts. She must be the most annoying scout mom ever.
Small tangent here: I hate scouts. Every one of them, girl, boy, cub, whatever. What they stand for; their homophobic attitude; but mostly, I hate the cookies. I know, I may be the only person in the world who hates girl scout cookies, but I do. I despise that they are at every grocery store in the state right now, hawking those nasty cookies. Dude, if I wanted your cookies, I would have bought them from the 6 little girls in my neighborhood who each came by and rang my door bell early Sunday morning, for six weeks in a row. No, I don’t want your dam cookies, now let me in the god dam store. End tangent.
So, I heard about the scouts. Then she went and on about her Unity church and how amazing it is. How rainbows shoot out of every ones asses after they go there. Then how she just can’t believe we don’t go to church. We don’t go to church. Period. We don’t belong to a religion. Period. And what the heck is a Unity church anyway? Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t care if I know. If I was planning on choosing a religion it would be one of the ones in my family.
I started getting desperate, so I sent out this Tweet from the bathroom:
Somebody save me. I am in playdate hell. Can one of you DM me and i dont know be in labor or have ebola? Something. Please
Then nothing. Crickets. Chirp.
I waited, hoping someone would see it. But nope, nobody was on to see it. Then I sent a text to my BFF Kate, saying pretty much the same thing. She texted me back, I told you not to do play dates. You never listen.
Am looking for a new BFF by the way.
Eventually we left and as we did, Bailey says to me, Mommy why did we go there? I don’t even like that girl.
Great kid, just great. You couldn’t have told me that earlier? Play dates are not for the weak at heart and they are definitely not for me.
Grab My Button!
I’m a joiner
