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So.  BlogHer ’09.  I promised a post about it.  But aren’t you tired of reading about it all over the blogosphere by now?

In any case, here is my experience in a nutshell:  I had a great time.

Yes, there was controversy, and its counterpoint.  Yes, there were laughter and tears.  Yes, there was a failed trip to Gino’s Pizza!

That’s not what I’ll remember.  Instead, I’ll remember that I met some wonderful bloggers — too many to link here!  I hope to remember all that I learned from people who know more than I do…and I hope to be as cool as they are some day.  I know I’ll remember that I got to hang out with some awesome people and continue to build friendships!

See you at BlogHer10!

As we pulled up to the TA truck stop, where I knew The Husband was picking me up, I spotted my mommy-mobile parked there.

Then I saw him walking around the parking lot, for no apparent reason.  My scruffy-faced, Birkenstock-wearing husband, who’d just spent the past five days caring for The Crew so that I could I attend BlogHer.  He was just puttering around the truck stop parking lot waiting for me.

And I fell in love with him all over again.  

I fell in love again a few other times that evening too…

When Bito picked up his make-shift guitar and broke into an improvised song about missing Mommy…and he let me kiss him without wiping off my kiss (this is huge, folks!), I fell in love again.

When Cupcake was Velcro-girl throughout the evening, insisting on hugging, kissing or somehow touching me at all times, I knew I am  loved by my awesome little girl.  And I fell in love again with her.

When BabyMuffin’s anxious face broke into a slow, wide, contagious grin upon spotting me, my heart broke wide open.  I scooped him up (and I think I let down a little milk at that moment, too!) and I fell in love all over again.

I fell in love again with being a Wife and Mommy.  And I don’t mean the blogging identity.  So the BlogHer recap post can wait.

While Devra and Sarah were dealing with a flat tire and poor customer service, The Husband and I took a detour to visit the Beef Jerky Unlimited in Luna Pier, Michigan.  Hey, what can we say?  We drive by the ginormous billboard several times a year on our way to the ILs home and always snicker.  We figured it was a good time to visit.

Turns out we were able to get some jerky, learn about fishflies, tour the fair town of Luna Pier, and see Lake Erie up close and personal.  All this in the span of a half-hour.

Sadly, I was not able to take photos inside the Beef Jerky Unlimited.  A sign on the door made it clear pictures were verboten.

]]> http://wifeandmommy.wordpress.com/2009/07/22/in-the-meantime/feed/ 3 Wife and Mommy 0025 http://wifeandmommy.wordpress.com/2009/07/22/collapsing-the-crib/ http://wifeandmommy.wordpress.com/2009/07/22/collapsing-the-crib/#comments Wed, 22 Jul 2009 12:06:55 +0000 Wife and Mommy http://wifeandmommy.com/?p=731 ]]>

The song has been sung, the candles have been blown out.  Not sure how it occurred but my daughter, my youngest, my baby, is two.  Her favorite words, “mine” and “no”, along with the stack of thank you cards to be addressed act as further proof of what my heart is slow to recognize–another year has passed and my baby isn’t such a baby any more.

This weekend my husband and I have tentatively scheduled the collapsing of the crib.  I say tentatively because I’m not sure I can go through with it.  A task that will take but a few moments is so much more than the swapping out of furniture.  To me it’s an emotional thing.  A physical change in her room that is a reminder that time marches on.  In those moments I’ll be asked to say good bye to my baby  girl and wrap my arms and my mind around the big girl she’s turned into.

Yes, the collapsing of the crib is scheduled. It’s an exciting rite of passage for my girl, for me.  Why, in the face of this new exciting adventure that is a toddler bed, do I find myself wanting to put her back on a bottle and throw her a pacifier?  I cling to the crib as I cling to her being a baby.  That part of her life is rapidly winding up and that both excites me and saddens me.  Yes, the crib will, in all likelihood, be collapsed this weekend.  I doubt I’ll be in the room. I’ll be collapsed on my own bed wondering where the two years have gone.

Today’s guest post is brought to you by my good friend Tanya.  I’ve never met Tanya face-to-face, but I consider her a close friend and hope to wrap my arms around her and give her a big hug some day soon!   I appreciate her wit, wisdom, and insight, which come through in her writings.  Tanya doesn’t blog as much as I would like to read atReconciling My Life’s Balance Sheet.

Today’s guest post is written by Heather, who is one my dearest friends.  Heather is a Public Affairs Officer with the federal government.  She lives in a far out suburb of DC with her husband, two sons, and two cats.

I figure that I have probably gained and lost the same 30 pounds at least four times by now. You’d think that I’d be used to the cycle of denial and deception by now, both in gaining and losing.  I certainly can recite my justifications by heart: “I WANT the waffle! I am going to EAT the waffle and don’t you DARE deny me,” my four-year-old alter ego tells me as she sits on my shoulder, arms crossed. Then there’s the  policewoman who stands ramrod straight on my other shoulder, billy-club in hand, sternly reminding me that “every bite counts,” and chastising me for my weakness. “If you weren’t so LAZY and did what you should, you’d be skinny by now,” she huffs in exasperation.  The two have been at it more now as my ‘fat pants’ are getting too tight and I keep getting asked when my baby is due (he’s two, thankyouverymuch). I try to pretend that it doesn’t bother me but it does, and as I struggle to begin the same self-depriving, self-depricating routine again I realize that something’s gotta change.  So that’s why I ignored the eyeball-rolls of my husband and took myself to a nutritional counselor last week.  I know that I need to figure out what’s going on between my ears that sends me to food for comfort so that I can be at a healthy weight once and for all. So, with a deep breath and a prayer that my non-reimbursable expense would be worth it, I walked into Dr. D’s office. I had an hour.

Part therapist, part dietician, all doctor, she led me through my thinking. She told me that only two percent of people who go on diets manage to keep the weight off. Two. One, two. Wow.

Okay then. I don’t feel so bad now. But I also have a much greater challenge in front of me than I thought I had.  As we continued our conversation I told the doc about the dynamic duo of message-givers and she nodded sagely. Then, she said something enlightening.

It’s just food.

It’s neither good nor bad but (to borrow from Shakespeare) thinking makes it so. Interesting.  I also went through my family food history; how my father thought that being fat was about the worst thing you could be; that my brothers called me ‘lady lardbottom’ at dinner with encouragement from my mother when I went for seconds.  Funny thing was that I wasn’t struggling with my weight then–I was at my normal healthy weight.  I guess these messages were more of a time bomb than a grenade in terms of their impact.

Now, I’m not going to blame them–I make the decisions on what goes into my mouth. But now I have to try to understand why.  Doc told me to instruct the cop to be quiet if she can’t be positive and to acknowledge the toddler’s wants with a ‘yes, I hear you’ so that when I make decisions about food I hear silence, and to eat mindfully. I’ve started keeping an ‘after’ journal: “after I go to the gym I feel“ … and then write it. I do the same thing for my fatty-goodness breakfast at work of the bacon, egg and cheese on a croissant: “After I eat a fatty breakfast I feel…” and so on. I am noticing that, for all of my complaining and excuses, I always feel better after I go to the gym, and I always feel worse when I eat something I know won’t be in my best interests. I’m coming to realize that my weight loss will be more than just cutting calories and exercising more, it’s going to be about depersonalizing food and removing it from my options when I am in any kind of elevated mood.  I’m going to miss the cupcakes when I‘m stressed; I’m not gonna lie.  But  I *will* have one when I decide I would like one, and I will remember that it’s just food.  Or at least, I will try. I’m still at the foot of this mountain and so far all I’ve done is put on two pounds since I told the cop to be quiet, but at least I’m starting to change. I’m probably not going to get to my pre-baby figure, and that’s okay. But I am going towards a healthier mind in a healthier body and that itself is worth the journey, no matter how long it takes.

LAX –> DAL –> ATL

I imagine all the fun he must have airport hopping.  Sure, I know most of his travels are for business, and therefore not really that glamorous–he once told me all he got to see in faraway cities were hotel rooms, conference rooms, and clients’ offices.  Still.  Since I don’t fly anywhere anymore, I am wistful as I see his airport codes.

Recently I went to IAD to pick up some friends from their long international journey.  Bito and Cupcake went with me since they love the airport and think it’s a special treat to go to Dulles.

I watched as weary travelers trudged through the doors from customs.  I saw other domestic travelers making their treks to the cab line, or out to their cars in satellite parking. Everyone had somewhere to go, someplace else they wanted to be.  The airport wasn’t their final destination.

As we stood outside the doors from where all international passengers arrive, Bito and Cupcake played together on the floor.  Others waiting were amused by their carefree conversation and fun.  They got one or two annoyed glances from tired people who probably just wanted them to be quiet.  All in all, I was glad I brought them with me. They seemed to lighten the heavy, exhausted atmosphere.  Several people smiled at them, or at me as I tried to shush them a few times.

All those travelers wanting to go somewhere else.  I was happy where I was.

Stimey is the winner of my I’m Going to BlogHer ’09 giveaway!

Congratulations, gerbil-loving Stimey.

This past weekend, I attended a Pre BlogHer get-together for DC area bloggers at Nationa Harbor.  I got a chance to meet some new blogger friends, catch up with old blogger friends, and find out who is going to the conference.  The get-together was sponsored by Safety 1st and Giant Food (thanks for the fabulous swag!), and held at Scene, a gorgeous new gallery owned by Jennifer Grinnell.  The party was laid back and relaxed, which is just my style.

photo courtesy of Goon Squad Sarah

Let’s see if I can remember everyone’s names and link to their blogs.   From left-to-right:

CaraBee - I just met her and she was so easy to talk to!  And she came all the way from Baltimore to attend out party.
Teach Mama – I bow down to all teachers.
Urban Mama – My oldest and dearest friend in this group.
Jessica - I’m must be getting comfortable with her because I called her a tramp (in jest, of course!).
Lumpyhead’s Mom – We swear we know each other from somewhere.  Or maybe we just think we do because We All Look Same.
Linda – Despite having babies bunched together, Linda was calm, cool and collected!  (And my apologies to her for accidentally omitting her at first!)
Tech Savvy Mama – I’m secretly hoping Jean’s issues will cause Leticia to crash in my room at BlogHer!  Or maybe Leticia and I could just share a conference pass and room…because We All Look Same.
Susan – Who generously gave me one of her busines cards so I’d know how to do mine…and I’ve already lost it!
De in D.C. – My roommate at BlogHer!  I’m looking forward to it!
Laurie – Such a fun gal!
Sarah – I love Sarah and her Goon Squad stories.  She’s worth getting off the highway for.
Kim – and her baby boy!  I’ve been mistaken for Kim before…again, that whole We All Look Same syndrome.
Jean – Who I’m also becoming comfortable with her since I called her a Freak of Nature.
Devra – An all around awesome gal, and I am honored to call her my friend.
Sue – who has a Party of 6!  SIX.  Can you imagine?

Other people** didn’t make it into the picture but we still had fun with them too:  Kristen, Andrea, Jill, JavaMom, Jen, Kim, Katherine, Zandria, and Examorata.  And of course, Wife & Mommy (you know, ME!  I was taking this picture)!

So glad I got to go to this party.  Now I feel comfortable with a handful of people.  Hopefully they know me a little better, too, and will forgive me if I do or say something completely socially inept!

**Sorry if I left you out! See you in Chicago!!

So when one of my children falls down but is clearly not physically injured, I don’t say, “You’re okay!”  Instead I try to focus on the truths of the situation, such as, “You didn’t skin your knees, see?”  or “That looked like a scary fall!”  Then I ask, “Are you okay?” and let them tell me.

I also don’t ask my children to say “I’m sorry,” to each other.  I know that might be a bit shocking, but insincere apologies don’t mean much anyway.  Instead, I ask Bito and Cupcake (and someday BabyMuffin, I suppose) to state what they did was wrong and that they will try not to do it again.  If they choose to say they are sorry, it’s up to them.

Today Bito screamed loudly, thus waking BabyMuffin from a sound sleep.  Bito was obliged to go to BabyMuffin and say, “It was wrong for me to wake you up by screaming.  I’ll try not to do it again.”

Interestingly, more often than not, I find the, “I’m sorry,” gets tacked on to their spiel.  I hope the apologies are sincere and truthful.