It swept into our house suddenly, about four weeks ago, brought by outsiders. It was new. It was different than what had come before.
It has caused screaming and strife and tears. It’s the cause of many battles, small and large, between the little people who don’t like to share, and between the little people and the big people. It makes us late for things.
It hurts (if you step on it – or chuck it at someone).
It needs to be picked up all the time – when there’s a baby visiting, or a house viewing, or a dog that might eat it up.
It’s also brought creativity, more interactive play between children and adults, more quiet play in bedrooms, and more independence. I think we’ll let the Lego stick around. I think we were all ready for it to hit.
(I feel like…UGH… I need to say this post is not a review; that I have not been compensated in any way, asked to talk about these toys, or provided with samples. Lego was first brought by houseguests, then Mark bought some no-name building blocks at Winners, and I bought the boys a box at the Lego store in NYC.)
We’ve spent most of this week dealing with a plague or two. Mark managed to come down with some nasty flu at the end of the weekend, and he’s pretty much been feverish in bed ever since. He’s never taken time off work sick that I can remember. He hasn’t been to work this week at all yet. Not sure about tomorrow.
Me, I avoided the man flu, but I did manage to get a pestilence of my own. All week I’ve been suffering with the worst canker sores/mouth ulcers I’ve ever had. The inside of my bottom lip is…well…horrible. Times ten.
You know what irritates cankers? Oh, everything. Hot food, cold food, sour food, sweet food, food food. Teeth. Your tongue. Air. Words. You know, basic things that have to be in your mouth at some point during the day. I was suffering badly. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was beginning to want to rip half my face off.
I ended up asking for help – I had to. I asked twitter, where my @ replies suggested various remedies including unlit matches, salt water and over-the-counter stuff. All of these things hurt badly. I asked my mother. I asked my co-workers.
One co-worker came up with most magic soothing potion of all. Buttermilk. “Gargle with it,” she said, “like the salt water, but it won’t burn.” And it didn’t. And it doesn’t.
However, have you ever tried to drink buttermilk? It’s, um, an acquired taste.
Once upon a time, I worked in a group home for adults with developmental disabilities. Okay, that time was when I lived in Waterloo and was completing my Master’s degree. Make it about 2001. One of the individuals who lived in the home absolutely adored sitting down with a big glass of buttermilk. If she’d had a bad day, or even a good day, it was her comfort food.
I drink my buttermilk now – actually, make that hold it in my mouth, not drink it – and I think of her. I wonder why she found this flavour of runny plain yogurt so good. She, too, found it soothing, but in a different way.
I’m happy to report that my mouth is improving, and I’ve been keeping buttermilk with me at work in case I eat something (tomatoes! damn you!) that irritates my mouth again. But I still have most of a carton left, so the logical next step might be buttermilk fried chicken. Or pancakes. Or muffins. Soothing, too, in a different way.
I’m sitting here, and I’m not entirely sure what to write. And that’s the worst kind of blog post for me. If I don’t have a clear idea, I come out with gibberish, or the completely mundane. That’s why I don’t blog as frequently as I used to. Because, honestly, back when there were babies at my feet or chest and I was writing a lot, it was crap, really.
This blog is here because sometimes I feel like I need to write, to process, to think. And that’s the main takeaway from BlogHer this year, from the closing keynote: I have a voice. I use my voice/should use my voice. There are a million different topics to discuss. But use (y)our power. You know what quote comes next, right? “With great power comes great responsibility“.
I just know that I feel some sort of weird obligation to provide my own summary of the conference, like that’s what you have to do if you go. So here I sit, feeling like I should write.
I met some people I was happy to meet. I didn’t go out of my way to be a fangirl for bloggers I love, like last year. In fact, there’s a couple that I know were there that I didn’t even see at all. I only squee’d a couple of times. If I squee’d at you, you are totally worth it.
I’m not going to write a lot here. Some other people have already done it for me. Yes, that’s it, I’m going to cheat! I’m going to link you to my threeamazingroom mates (I love these ladies, and now I’ve seen 2 of 3 of them naked from the waist up. Boom chicka wah wah).
I’ve also enjoyed recaps so far from Julie (lovely to meet her), Maggie (lovely to see her again), Neil (wish I had talked to him more) and Shannon (who I didn’t really meet but smiled at; more importantly, she knows how to capture the conference I was at).
Obligation can mean a sense of duty.
I think if you attend a conference where women have risked their lives to come and speak to you about how their speak out against injustice and crimes against humanity, where bloggers we all know bare their souls about grief and loss, where your fellow writers get a chance to speak on stage in front of hundreds of people and feature some of the blogosphere’s best work, you’d best be attending those sessions. I’m not normally a Judgey McJudgerson, but really? Did you have to go to a swag suite instead? Really? Really?
Obligation can mean a debt of gratitude.
I had an amazing time this weekend. I really did. It was so much better than I thought it would be. I spent most of my time hanging out with people that I could jump in my car and drive to see, whether 6 hours or a half hour away. And I loved them all, their bright faces and pretty dresses and hearty laughs.
Photo completely stolen from Nadine (scarbiedoll)
Some I knew sort of well. Some I didn’t know at all. I really did have the best time. We had a few neat adventures. And what a mental boost that is.
I went in swearing off attending any further BlogHer conferences, thinking I’d had enough. I’m not so sure now.
Maybe I feel a bit obligated. In the best possible way.
It’s our 5th wedding anniversary today. I have no clue what to get Mark. And I’m not even home. I’m sleeping in a bed with Rebecca in NYC. Probably snuggling. Anyway.
In absence of a gift, I give Mark this, along with an IOU: the words to a song I hear, but don’t necessarily love. The words are right, though.
(Today, the words are right – next week I might hate him. Welcome to our marriage.)
The Stills: I’m With You
The timing’s right
And the light is soft
We’ve come from far
And we came here lost
We’re moving east
We’re rolling through
If you believe in me
I’ll believe in you
I’m with you
If you want me to
Explosives highs
To breakneck lows
Every mirror in
The house has broke
The moon is red
And the sky is green
In the loneliest place
You’ve ever been
I’m with you
If you want me to
A darkness shines
Through my airplane
Purple and bright
On my window pane
Be close to me
Be where I am
Where the wind is hard
Where the wind is hard
The night is blue
Last year I was sort of freaking out. Going to BlogHer in Chicago, pretty much by myself, not knowing hardly anyone. Excited at the prospect of sessions with speakers that I admired. A weekend away in a cool city. Parties. Swag. So many unknowns. I came back with some renewed sense of purpose, of opportunity, of clarity about blogging. I was so pleased to have met so many writers I admired.
This year? I’m chill. I’m not packed. I haven’t bought a bunch of new clothes. I don’t really care. I’m not sure I’m going for any other reason than a get away with friends (new and old) and I’m not actually sure that’s a good enough reason to be going to this conference.
I’ve been busy (AS USUAL – no really) with friends visiting from the UK, playing tourist with them, and still dealing with Callum’s broken elbow. His first cast is off tomorrow. Probably to be followed by a second cast. Distracting enough that I haven’t really thought about my trip yet. Except to print up a few emails, and I finally found my passport tonight.
I’m curious what I’m going to think after this weekend away. I’m not as inspired by the session topics this year. I’m sort of fed up with a lot of the advertisements conversations I’m seeing on twitter. I think maybe, just maybe, I’ve had my fill of this. I’m not sure.
Don’t get me wrong – there are things I am looking forward to. A hotel room full of friends. New friends to met. Others to see again. Four days in NYC. Four days of no bedtime routines with the kids. A party full of Canadian blogg(h)ers. Another party with Martha Stewart (or at least her staff!) – how random and weird and cool is that?!
So we’ll see. Hope to see you there, some of you reading this. Not, you know, my mother. No offense, mother.
