Busted.
Aug 6, 2009
If You Think This Is Bad, You Don’t Want To See Her Texting Bill
August 6, 2009 By
Busted.
Aug 3, 2009
How NOT To Look Good in Pictures
August 3, 2009 By
Looking over all the photos from BlogHer 09, I’m realizing that I should have spent more time at the Nikon party talking to Carson Kressley and less time downing those Nikon Ikon drinks. I’m a walking advertisement for what not to do when the camera is aimed your way.
Allow me to share my lessons learned from this year’s set of photos.
1. Don’t get caught with your mouth full of cheeseburger.
Photo courtesy of Amelia Sprout
In this case, the hat can be considered fashionable. But chipmunk cheeks full of tasty cheeseburger goodness mid-chew? Not flattering.
2. Self-portraits rarely look good unless you’ve got insanely long monkey arms.
And when you’re with someone with perfect teeth? You’ve got no chance of looking good.
3. Remember that you’re not always the star.
Photo courtesy of Suebob
Sure, I may have thought I was hot stuff, but that red stapler? Totally upstaged me in this shot. I should have remembered which of us was more popular. I am merely a backdrop for that lovely red stapler.
4. Just because the other person in the photo is shorter than you doesn’t mean you should slouch to meet her in stature.
Yeah, um, bad lighting and a half-squat to meet Mrs. Potato Head’s height equal me looking nearly as round as her. I should have stood tall and made her stretch to meet me. Surely she’s got taller legs stored in her back, right?
5. When shifting to take a photo with a friend, make sure your outfit turns with you.
Photo courtesy of MommyBits
Yep, if you look close, that’s a whole lot of my bra exposed there. Sigh.
They weren’t all bad, though. I did manage to not embarrass myself in a few photos:
Photo courtesy of Karianna
Photo courtesy of Stimey
Is it possible to love a profile photo of yourself? This is the only one I’ve ever liked.
—-
I did a write-up on my BlogHer 09 clothing and my travel to Chicago over at Mommy’s Must Haves. There’s even a photo of me flashing my undergarments (on purpose!) over there!
And I was recently a guest poster at Diets in Review – check out my advice for losing the baby weight, and also see my tips on running a 5K!
Jul 31, 2009
Haiku Friday: Out of Steam
July 31, 2009 By
It’s been nearly two
years since I started Haiku
Friday on a whim
years since I started Haiku
Friday on a whim
I’m feeling run down
thinking I need a break from
writing weekly ‘ku’s
It doesn’t have to
end, though – any volunteers
want to take over?
I have loved doing Haiku Friday from the beginning. It’s been a way to flex my creative muscles and try something different. But lately it’s become a chore, and the last thing I want is for it to be a chore. It’s not fair to those of you who enjoy playing along each week.
So I need a break. Not sure how long, but possibly a long break. (Note: I’m still blogging, just not in haiku form.) I’m happy to pass the duties off to someone else if they really want the responsibility. If you do, let me know – if more than one person wants it, I’ll figure out some way to pick a host.
Thank you so much to everyone who has participated in Haiku Friday. You’re all brilliant and talented poets and I’m grateful that you took part in my little weekly meme.
To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:
1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What’s a haiku, you ask? Click here.
2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your main blog URL). DON’T sign unless you have a haiku this week. If you need help with this, please let me know.
3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button at the top.
REMEMBER: Do not post your link unless you have a haiku this week! I will delete any links without haiku!
Jul 30, 2009
The Fork in the Road
July 30, 2009 By
So aside from going to BlogHer (which I do plan to get back to talking about soon), life has been more than a little crazy for me.
Right before BlogHer, I was offered the job I was hoping for. I’ll be an RN in a labor & delivery unit at a small hospital in the greater Columbus area. I started the job on Tuesday, and while I’ll be working night shift eventually, I’m on day shift during my training. The pay isn’t as high as it is in the larger hospitals, but the atmosphere of this unit really called to me. OK, and the fact that they were the only ones to offer me a job. That helped, too.
I still have to pass my license exam, too. That’s coming up August 17. So forgive me if you ask me a question and I rattle off, “Normal potassium levels are 3.5-5.0” to you. I’m only a little frazzled.
The schedule is an adjustment for me. It’s been two years since I held a job I could explain to people in only one sentence. (So yeah, I work as a blogger. It’s essentially a freelance writer, and I work from home and set my own hours and yeah, it’s a real job. Well, sorta. It sometimes pays, but sometimes it’s only from ad revenue. What’s ad revenue? Well…) Working for 12 hours straight takes some getting used to, although that single-sentence description is quite nice.
And it’s the first time that I’m spending a significant amount of time away from Mira. I quit my part-time job when she was born, not only for nursing school but to be with her, too. We had to put Cordy in full-time daycare at three months old, and I hated myself for those seven long months she was there. I felt like I missed seeing her grow during that time, and I vowed to never do it again. I got to spend all that time with Mira, however. And now she’s two, begging to go to her summer camp five days a week. She’s ready to venture out into the social world of preschoolers, and she doesn’t need me as much. Which means I need to accept that and find a way to not need her as much, either.
That’s not all the change that happened this week, though! Nooooo, not for Aaron and I – when it rains it freaking pours and hails and produces hurricane force winds here. For not only was I offered a job, but then a few days later, Aaron was offered a job! Hallelujah and rainbows and smiling babies!
Aaron’s job offer was for an office job on the opposite side of Columbus from us. At first we were giddy with excitement – new job! They’d let him dress casual! We’d finally have a stable, steady double income! The pay isn’t the best, but money is better than unemployment, right?
But wait – there’s more! Then Aaron got an interview with a company to do freelance work! Much higher pay, too! At the interview, they really seemed to like him, and it’s very possible he’ll be offered a chance to do projects on a semi-regular basis with them.
Months of no job, and now suddenly job prospects everywhere. I’ve been waiting for change for a long, long time, and as you know this past year was a special kind of hell. Now that we’ve got our change, though, why do I find myself screaming, “Whoa! Too fast! Slow it down! I CAN’T HANDLE ALL THIS CHANGE!”
So we’re now trying to process everything. That first offer for a job for Aaron has some trade-offs we’re just now realizing. The hours would require a babysitter, and that sitter would need to work weird, sporadic times and need to transport the girls to their various therapies and activities. The cost for a sitter, along with gas for the 45 min. commute, would eat up much of Aaron’s salary. Plus it’s a 45 min. commute each way. Suddenly the giddyness is wearing off.
But the other position isn’t a sure thing yet. And if it does become a sure thing, it’s only freelance work – no amount of hours are guaranteed – making it not really a sure thing. But it would pay more, so we could budget appropriately for the lean times. Assuming he’s offered the position, of course. Aaron would also be home with the kids if he took this option, making sure they get to therapies and school and whatever they may need.
If. Assuming. Possibly. The control freak in me is going crazy with the lack of certainty right now.
We have to make a choice now about which road to take. The riskier choice, which still has one parent home at all times, but no guarantees on any money greater than my salary (which is enough to cover bills and necessary items), or the stable choice, which could still result in no more money than my salary, plus needing a sitter, but a stable job with some chance for advancement and more money.
Have I mentioned I’m lousy at making decisions? I can’t even pick the fastest checkout lane at the grocery correctly – how can I participate in making a life-altering decision like this?
Someone tap me on the shoulder after all of these changes pass so I can pull my head out of the sand, will ya?
Jul 27, 2009
Moments in Time: BlogHer 09
July 27, 2009 By
“So is it really true about the screaming and hugging in the lobby on the first day of BlogHer?” Vanessa asked as we drove into Chicago.
“Oh yes,” I replied. “You’ll definitely see it.”
Not even five seconds after putting the car into park for the valet and opening our car doors, a screech echoed in the covered driveway as two women near the revolving door recognized each other, quickly embracing and speaking in high pitched tones about how thrilled they were to see each other.
“Wow, that was fast!” remarked Vanessa.
—
I walk out of the elevator into the hotel lobby, and am passed by several women, all carrying small brown bags – some with two bags – as they make a quick escape into the elevator. As I get closer to the Room 704 party, I see crowd swarming two small brown tables against the escalator. I stand near the back of the crowd, slowly being pushed upstream until I arrive at the front.
“I’m really sorry, but we’re out of swag bags,” Dawn tells me.
It’s 10:25pm. The party was scheduled to start at 10:30pm.
I look across the horizon of the crowd, and see more women leaving the party before it has even started, carrying their prized bags with them to their rooms. I see very few of those faces the remainder of the night. I grumble to Sleepy New Mommy and Karianna about how rude it is to grab free stuff from a party and then leave the party right away. Isn’t the point of this to talk to each other?
Pulling out my phone, I tweet: “I could make a joke about people who grab swag vibrators & run to their rooms, but it speaks for itself. #blogher09”
—
In the Expo hall, I see Heather. I try to tell her a story about how a post of hers has been saved in my feed reader, a post discussing what went wrong, and how I revisit that post often. As a new nurse, I read that list of contributing factors, and I ask myself, if I were in that situation, what could I do differently to make sure this never happens to a child on my watch? I’ve used her post to play through different code blue scenarios in my head, trying to keep myself mentally prepared for it.
Unfortunately, I am overcome with emotion as I attempt to tell her all of this, and it comes out in heaving sobs. Damn emotions. As I cry and hug her, her posse circles in closer, wondering if they need to protect Heather by dragging this psycho stalker away from her. She waves her hand and tells them, “It’s OK, I know Christina.” I pull myself together and let her get back to enjoying the Expo hall. I feel like a complete emotional freak.
—
At lunch on Friday, I offer to hold Ezra for Amy so she can have a few moments to eat. While he sits on my lap and gnaws on bread and chicken chunks, I perform the long-distance food spearing maneuver to get my food from my outside-of-Ezra-reach plate to my mouth. I’m well-skilled at this maneuver.
Yet somehow Ezra uses his Plastic Man reach to snag one of the croutons from my plate, and I laugh. He looks up at me with a goofy grin of accomplishment; suddenly I miss Mira.
—
I attend a swag suite and am overwhelmed at the crowd. I somehow make my way into the back of the room. At the same time, new swag arrives in boxes that are passed through the crowd. As soon as a box is opened, outstretched hands take everything before it can warm the table. I am handed a backpack, and before the next box is brought in, I start to feel claustrophobic.
“I need out of here. Right now. I feel trapped.” I tell Amelia in short, panicky breaths.
I try to look for an opening, but there are none. The room is packed with women shoulder to shoulder. I brought this on myself, I think. Greedy swag whore.
“Please excuse me. I just want to get out.” I repeat over and over as I squeeze and force my way past each person. I consider offering my backpack to anyone who will simply make a path for me to get out. When I reach the hall, I take a deep breath, and my heart starts to beat a little slower.
—
I later attend another swag suite, where I’m scheduled to have a meeting with one of the PR reps. After the first experience, I’m frightened to go in, but quickly find it to be a relaxing atmosphere, free of crowds and offering plenty of space to sit, chat and have a snack.
After my meeting, I sit and have a lovely conversation with Kristen, The New Girl, Liz and Susan. Margo provides the entertainment as we keep her from eating the plastic plant on the coffee table. This feels more like past BlogHer events; the time passes without notice as we enjoy the company and the conversation.
—
My roommate Amelia and I were decompressing after a long day on Friday.
“What’s been your best moment so far?” she asked.
“Meeting Mrs. Potato Head.”
I’m such a mom.
—
As I leave the Birds of a Feather lunch for parents of special needs children on Saturday, I find myself chatting with a woman in the Expo hall. I mention that I’m feeling a little under the weather after the Nikon party the night before.
“Oooh, you went to the Nikon party?” she asked. “I’m SO jealous! I wish I would have been invited! So, tell me: did they give you a camera?”
“Uhm, no, they didn’t.”
“No? You mean they were all exclusive and had all the security and you didn’t even get a camera from it?”
“Nope. It was just a party.” She was taking this revelation harder than me, clearly.
“Oh well, I’m glad I didn’t get an invite to it then.” And with that she was distracted and turned away to say hello to a friend walking past.
“I’m glad you didn’t, too,” I say quietly to myself.
—
As I wander the Expo hall, looking a little lost, I spot Janet and wave hi to her, thinking she’s too busy to chat with me. Instead she calls me over, “Hey, will you wait for me while I finish this?” We walk the Expo floor together, both feeling a little hungover and wanting someone to quietly talk with.
We’re approached by one of the sponsors, who asks to interview us for a video being made for their corporate executives. We agree, and do our best to give them our full opinion of their products, both good and bad. Actually, we’re both pretty harsh on them.
Just as I’m feeling like maybe I was being too Complainy McBitchy, Jaelithe appears to share some exciting news with us. Another company in the Expo hall – a company that listened to several moms a year and a half ago – presented her with their newest product: a product that was developed based on the feedback they received from the mom bloggers they talked to. I’m ecstatic and rush back to ask for my own sample of the product. I’m feeling proud of our accomplishments. (More on that product later, I promise.)
—
It’s Saturday night, and I’m hungry. I have yet to eat a full meal since Wednesday, and I’m really craving a large meal. I invite myself along with Stimey and her group of friends for dinner. We try for Gino’s pizza, but when the line is out the door and around the block, we settle instead for an English pub nearby. I devour my fish and chips, thankful for a quiet moment to talk with old friends and new friends.
—
It’s 9pm, and I’m perched on the edge of my hotel bed, a bed that is completely covered in swag. I sift through it, deciding what I want to keep, what I want to take home as gifts, and what I want to offer up to my roommates or throw away. The latter category gets a lot of entries.
I am reminded of an earlier conversation that day, when I said that the closing keynote subject was “Where are we headed?” and Stimey’s response was, “Where are we headed? To hell in a swag bag.”
—
I’m sitting in an oval soaking tub with Devra in the Presidential Suite of the Sheraton at the Cheeseburgher party. Someone comments on the acoustics in the bathroom, and one woman sings a line from I Will Survive. Suddenly the tune is picked up by Georgia and the other women in the bathroom as a spontaneous sing-a-long drowns out the chatter from the other rooms of the party. We erupt into laughter at the end of the chorus.
“THIS is what BlogHer is all about,” I declare to the room.
And it is.
