Nudge The Nest & Pray They Fly
Note the ergonomic & streamlined design.
Also that is not the same purple shirt I had on two days ago at Sonic Punch-Me-In-The-Face Hour. I swear on my life. And HONESTLY– if I’m going to put pictures of myself on the internet looking THAT sexy, do you really think I’d care enough to lie about wearing a clean shirt?
This Monday morning started with me waking up a full 45 minutes late because apparently I am amazing at turning alarms off in my sleep. Oopsie.
I sprinted into the kitchen to throw food at my kids and pack their lunches. (It should be noted I haven’t gotten my heart rate up that high in about six months.) In said dash to feed my children for the entire day in fifteen minutes I knocked an open Diet Coke can out of the fridge, filling my shoes and soaking my night gown.
(Sidebar: YES, shoes. I think we’ve pretty much covered that you don’t walk barefoot in my house because my kids are nastee. Right? And it’s too hot here for slippers. Technically they are sandals. Birkenstocks if you have to know– but bottom line? Full of Diet Coke. With lime. Good grief y’all love some details.
ALSO- I do this THING with Diet Coke where I open a can and leave it in the fridge and sort of take a swig whenever I walk by. On average I’d say my Diet Coke consumption is average to low but I hardly ever just like SIT down and drink. )
The day started with a bang but everybody got to school on time and I got to stay home with this little nugget.
Gonna have to homeschool this one. She’s too snuggly for school.
and worked through a huge stack of business cards I got from BlogHer. I filed the cards into four categories:
1) Brands
2)Bloggers
3)People Whose Cards Were So Confusing I Couldn’t Tell You Anything Other Than Their Name
4) People Who Are Not On Twitter. (I hate to say it- not really- but I threw all of these away. I mean how HARD are you trying to build something if you aren’t even on Twitter. I can’t imagine paying what it costs to go to a conference and not using the single most powerful and effective tool available. Which BY THE BY, is free.)
Sadie & Moses laid under my desk to help.
MOVING ON…
Sadie and I chilled at the house all day. Dora and Diego babysat while I worked my way through cards, wrote a couple of columns and um… yeah. That’s it. There were a lot of cards.
Took me about 10 hours to go through.
We went to pick the bigs up from school and APPARENTLY Dora & Diego aren’t really into napping so Sadie hadn’t had one. I had told the kids we could go to Sonic and about half a mile from where I needed to turn to either go to my house or to Sonic, Sadie started freaking out.
Sadie: I MEED TO GO POTTY.
Me: Really? (Well founded skepticism folks.)
Sadie: YES!
Me: Fine, we’ll go home and you can go.
She panicked, unsure if that meant we wouldn’t go to Sonic.
Sadie: I don’t Meed to go.
Me: Are you SURE?
Sadie: I DON’T MEEEEEEEED TO GO!
We flew into the parking lot where my kids changed their orders approximately 467 times while I was talking to the little dude in the speaker.
Me: I want two coconut slushes, one powerade slush and a large Diet Coke with Vanilla. (Nectar of the Gods.)
Him: So you want…
Emma: WAIT! Can I get cherry?
Me: Whatever!! I’m sorry can I get one cherry?
Sadie: I want cherry too!
Me: Sorry make that two cherry… one powerade slush.
Rinse. Lather. Repeat.
This went on until I finally told my kids to zip it and told the dude we needed four slushes of ANY variety and a vat of Diet Coke with Vanilla. I was still mourning the early morning loss of my Diet Coke with Lime.
This is the point when I took a moment for a little Mommy Reverie and wondered again how much it would cost to have bulletproof glass installed between me and my kids…
And ALSO? Why do they call it “Happy” Hour??
How was your Monday?
*This post is not sponsored by Sonic or Diet Coke. But it should be.
** Do not be jealous of the sexy.
On Facebook yesterday I shared a link to a flashmob organized by teachers and faculty to Carly Rae Jepsen’s Call Me Maybe. It was one of those things that was happy, fun and uplifting– and made me cry like a baby.
I’m that girl. I cry if something is really funny, OR really sad, OR really happy. Kristen Bell explained it to Ellen perfectly. If being sad is 0 and being happy is a 10, anything less than 3 or greater than an 8 makes me cry. (I saw you just shake your head at my crazy.)
BlogHer’12 was crazy. 5000 women in one location– the New York City Hilton. It was everything you would expect from having 5,000 women together. There were lots of amazing women to laugh and share with and their was a smattering of mean girls who only treated you like you were worth talking to once they saw your name badge and realized how “important” you were.
Friday night BlogHer hosted a fashion show featuring a handful of bloggers. I went to support my roommate Pauline Campos but wasn’t expecting a whole lot. It was clothes. And I mean YAY! Fancy designer clothes! Pretty! Sparkly! I cannot afford you! But I got a whole lot more than I expected.
The show started with blogger, Laurita Tellado rolling herself in her wheelchair onto the stage. As the music started pumping she STOOD UP out of her chair and walked the runway with a confidence that gave me chills.
By the time Pauline made her way to the catwalk, I had crabwalked to the very front of the runway to take her picture like a proud Momma. (Yes I did crabwalk at a fashion show.) I sat in the floor, with tears rolling down my cheeks as blogger after blogger WORKED IT down the runway.
Pauline working the runway.
No one was a size ‘zero’. No one was what the mainstream media tells us in beautiful, but every one of those women was stunning. Gorgeous. Their confidence literally took my breath away.
I’m not a size ‘0’ nor do I want to be. But there are times, like every other woman on the planet that I wish my body was different or my clothes fit me in a different way. And this may sound ridiculous to you but this is why I LOVE me some accessories. Regardless of how tight my jeans are or if I can actually zip the dress I wanted to wear, a new pair of shoes or a sassy purse can be enough to give me more confidence.
This is why I was SO excited when my friend, Annsley Popov, sent me a clutch from her designer line of handbags and accessories, Presmer. She sent me the natural Marie clutch, which I had sort of been drooling over for awhile.
I loved seeing women with bodies like mine on the runway. I loved seeing them in designer clothes that I would have assumed weren’t made any larger than a size 4. And I love that Presmer’s bangles and purses can add a little designer punch to even the most simple wardrobe.
Check out Presmer’s line here!
Disclaimer: In exchange for this post I was given a Presmer clutch for review. HOWEVER, I only review or promote items I genuinely think my audience will enjoy. I hope you do!
Well HELL-o.
I just unpacked my suitcase for the first time in a month. Did you think I was either dead or still wandering the streets of New York?
I am neither, although I sort of wish I was still wandering around NYC– alas I am home and exhausted from BlogHer ’12. Most of my readers do not blog and don’t really care so much about what happened there– unless I humiliated myself, in which case I KNOW you people and you are like, “YES!! Tell us about that!”
Well I’m going to do just that. I have SO much to catch up on writing-wise.
I left for NYC on Thursday August 2nd which just happened to be Aubrey’s 8th birthday. She was not happy with me but I assured her that we would celebrate later this month. But consumed by Mommy Guilty of epic proportions, I went to the store and got all the makings of a movie night: popcorn, the girls’ favorite candies and two brand spanking new DVDs and then proceeded to make the most elaborate scavenger hunt of my life. (By “of my life,” I mean, “EVER.” )
New York was a blur of meeting with brands, stalking the best pillow I’ve ever laid my head on EVER (note- WAY MORE THAN ONE) and meeting up with other bloggers and writers. Sunday, after the conference me, Sister Wife and my friend Pauline Campos turned shopping into an Olympic event and took the Gold for best overall performance. I think I got around 18-20 hours of sleep in about 5 days.
Sister Wife and I landed in Memphis and switched right back into Mommy Mode. We ran by Target and by some miracle of God I got all the school supplies I needed for Aubrey and Emma to start school. I got them ALL, at one time. It was amazing.
The next day I spent unpacking, hanging with my kids, buying groceries and writing their names on all of their supplies. I was pretty amazed at how much Mommy Butt I was kicking.
I got the bigs off to school the first day and went to yoga, (I know. I exercised! Hell hath frozen over.)
I came home to start the most massive cleaning of my house in recent history. Sadie was with Sister Wife and her daughter and around 10:30 I thought, “Good lard I’m tired. I’m just going to lay down for a minute.” I woke up at 2:00pm dazed and confused.
Catching up on the blog and now that my kids are in school I have time to blog obsessively. Hooray!
so hello chicks who may have no idea what BlogHer is… nutshell? It’s the largest blogging conference in the WORLD. Expecting over 4500 bloggers in attendance this year. Oh, yeah.. and it’s in New York City! AND Martha Stewart and Katie Couric are a couple of the keynotes. Ya’ know. Nobodies….
Remember when I went to Dayton, OH for the Erma Conference and had too much anxiety to take the anxiety meds my doctor gave me because I was afraid I’d pass out and wake up a decade later with a beard and grandchildren who believed me dead but really I’d been living in the Atlanta Airport all that time sleeping off a xanie… Remember that? This conference is in NEW YORK CITY. I’m thinking of putting a low-jack on my ankle so that Zeb can track me at all times. I know I’ll have fun when I get there. I hope I will. It’s the getting there that gets me all freaked out then I’ll be okay.
The other thing is that THE WHOLE ENTIRE INTERNET is talking about all the parties they are going to at #Blogher12 and “OOO did you get invited?” And I’ve been reading all the conference updates and have seen exactly nurn about all these cool kids parties people are signing up for NOR have I found a single solitary soul who can tell me how this works. At any rate, I know some very kick ask girls who I will be chilling and mingling with even if we didn’t get invited to anything.
And I’m just wondering about you people– you just don’t KNOW us?? Cause, y’all– we are funny as hell. Fun, we clean up after ourselves… and if you could see our stats? Well. You’d kick yourself, that’s what you’d do.
In a somewhat related column, I learned to deal with my travel angst by talking to my writer friend. Here’s what had happened:
I’ve written hundreds of words over the years of my affinity for profanity. I’m not saying it’s my finest attribute but there are times when in lieu of saying, “Gosh darn it all to heck fire!” I use one word that totally encapsulates the way I feel in that moment. Journalists call that an ‘economy of words.’ Christians call it ‘cussing’ and I call it ‘therapy.’
The immediate satisfaction of letting the four letter words fly is soothing although not great parenting. So I’ve made every effort over the years to cut back on my expletives. I realize it’s not my most attractive or endearing character trait and I certainly don’t want to pass my habit onto my children.
That said, my oldest daughter, Aubrey, has been my little Jiminy Cricket. Even for bad words that I’ve made up, “Fishbones! Fishsticks! Good gravy! FREAKING!”
“Momma,” she’ll say disapproving pointed the tip of her index finger at me. The one with the gnawed off fingernail, “That’s not a nice word.”
“I’m sorry Aubrey. You’re right. I need to say nicer words.” I apologize. I think it’s good for my kids to know that I’m not perfect and if I can use my bad behavior to teach them how to admit when they are wrong and apologize to others, then I’ll take every teaching moment that comes along.
The other evening I got an email related to my writing that filled me with rage. I didn’t want to respond to the email in anger, so I called one of my best friends. Kim Brock author of “The River Witch” and a Southern Christian lady who wouldn’t be offended by the slew of profanities I was about to unleash. I walked onto the balcony of the condo where we are vacationing, closed the door and unleashed my frustrations. Somehow in the midst of my hysterical outburst I didn’t hear the door slide open and closed or see Aubrey slip silently behind me.
I spun around in my chair when I felt her presence and waved her inside, mouthing, “This is a work call! I’ll be there in a minute!”
I told Kim I’d been busted and needed to go get my kids back in the bed. I walked into Aubrey’s room and climbed on the bed with her. We snuggled up, then nose to nose I asked her, “Did you hear Momma say some bad words?”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry honey. I really shouldn’t talk like that. It’s not nice. Don’t you ever say words like that, you would get in so much trouble! I wasn’t being a very good example and I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay, Momma. I forgive you. Sometimes I get really mad and say things I don’t mean too.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “What did you hear me say?” I tensed up in fear and waited for to drop a bomb.
“The ‘A’ word.” She said gravely.
“I’m sorry.” I was genuinely embarrassed.
“Oh, it’s okay Momma. At least it was a compound word.”