Your Friends and Neighbors

I have fond memories of growing up with neighborhood kids with whom I was close in age. Those were the old days, when you ran outside after dinner and played with whomever else happened to be outside at the time. These were lasting friendships -- bonds that extended beyond blood relations. If you were fighting with your younger brother, you could escape to a friend's house (and no doubt insist to your friend how much cooler her brother was than yours).

I'm delighted that Daniel has planted the seeds of friendship with our next-door neighbors. As much as I'd love to give him a sibling someday, the future is uncertain. I am thankful that he will always have friends to keep him company, whether or not he ever has a sibling. These sticky summer nights lend themselves well to playing in the backyard with neighboring kids. Last night, I was thrilled to see Daniel playing with Stella, 5, and Caleb, 2. He was equally excited, running inside momentarily to exclaim, "Mommy, Stella and Caleb are home from their trip!" Now, I don't think they were actually away on vacation, rather I suspect that Daniel equated them not being outside on other nights with being "on a trip."

The three of them had a blast together, first splashing around on Daniel's water table and then taking turns riding his Power Wheels Jeep.

Daniel took Caleb for a ride, Stella took Daniel for a ride, and Caleb even drove the Jeep himself for a bit! Daniel was sharing beautifully. He graciously stepped out of the Jeep (without prompting) to give someone else a turn, and didn't complain when he was waiting to get back in. I was so proud. Would he have been as patient and fair with a sibling? Who knows. All that matters is that the kids played nicely together and had fun.

I know that I'm projecting my own anxieties about Daniel being an only child, but watching him interact with Stella and Caleb only strengthened my conviction that he would be an amazing big brother. I pray that he will someday get to wear that ubiquitous "Big Brother" shirt with pride. But even if that day never comes, he will have friends. Friends to play with, to share toys with, to trade lunches with. Daniel is a natural friend. Anyone would be lucky to have him.

Day One Breakout Sessions/Swag Orgy

The morning started at 8:00, with a breakfast for "newbies." The BlogHer co-founders spoke about the conference and answered questions about breakout sessions and other logistical issues. The Expo Hall opened at 10:00, and it was like the scene from Willy Wonka when he opens the door to the chocolate room and all the kids and parents step inside, dumbfounded. I wandered around a bit, stopping to have my picture taken with everyone's favorite explorer. I saw that Shine on Yahoo! had a booth, so I inquired about taking part in an on-camera interview. There were quite a few people ahead of me, and I didn't want to miss the first breakout session, so I left the Expo Hall. That place was like a black hole: It sucks you in, and you lose all sense of time and place.

The first breakout session I chose was "Making Your Passion Work For You." The panelists spoke about finding your own passion and then providing a service that could solve an existing problem. They encouraged the audience to find mentors. Most successful people are eager to help and happy to give back. The message seemed to be: Don't be afraid to approach these people! This seems to be a hang-up for me, so I will have to work on it.

I left that session when they started to talk about business plans and how to obtain insurance coverage when you quit your job. I checked out the writing lab. It was a packed room and I didn't feel like standing in the back. I moved on to the job lab, found a seat on the floor, and listened for about 10 minutes while the panel spoke about resume writing. Another strike-out. So I headed back to the Expo Hall for more fabulous swag and shameless self-promotion. Back to the Yahoo Shine booth, where I had inquired earlier about sharing my story of transformation on camera.

First, I was escorted to hair and make-up. The make-up artist spruced me up. She worked on my eyes, cheeks, and lips, and did her best to minimize my dark circles and shiny t-zone. Hey, Rome wasn't built in a day. The techie guy hooked me up with a mic and I was up. The interview lasted no more than 10 minutes. The woman who interviewed me looked like a cross between Sophia Vergara and Penelope Cruz. I think I did a pretty good job on camera. I wasn't nervous, I spoke slowly and clearly, and...well, I'll post the final edit tomorrow so you can judge for yourself.

With my newfound smoky eyes, I continued to explore the Expo Hall. I wanted to grab the Todd Parr-designed placemats that I had seen everyone carrying around in their swag bags. I headed over to the Stouffers booth. Imagine my surprise when I saw the man himself sitting at the table! Todd Parr is a rock star in my house. I did the Wayne's World "I'm not worthy" bow and began gushing. I mean, I was really laying it on thick. I told him how much Daniel loves his books, and Todd started working on a personalized drawing for him. I continued to gush, thanking him for the work he does (I may have talked about Daniel saying "Why is he crying?" when he looks at the picture of the boy with the dropped ice cream cone -- I'm not sure because I was definitely babbling, like a tween at a Justin Bieber autograph signing). I walked away, on cloud 9, and then immediately started kicking myself for failing to have my photo taken with Todd Parr. So, like a stalker, I went back and waited patiently for another 15 minutes while he finished up with some other people. The man could not have been nicer or more gracious.

After lunch, I checked out two different breakout sessions: Giving Advice in the Blogosphere and Bringing Sexy Back to Branding. Good information from both, but the draw of swag was too great. I have become a total swag whore. Don't ask me how I'm going to get it all home. Back to the Expo Hall, this time up to the second floor. The Hillshire Farm "Sun" was there!!! Even more rad was the turkey sausage on a stick, wrapped in a pancake, that I ate while walking around. What??? The conference food was out of control.

It's the guy from the commercial...I swear!

The true highlight of the day came at 4:45, when we all gathered in the Grand Ballroom for the Voices of the Year honorees. Bloggers were honored in four categories: Life, Humor, Design, and Op/Ed. The speakers were wonderful -- funny, touching, and courageous. It may sound cliche, but I was totally inspired. Everyone's experiences were unique, but they all had something important to say. I guess that's why I blog. I feel like I have something to say (well, at least most of the time).

I'll leave you with one last image, which I was lucky enough to catch after a stroll around midtown brought me back to the Hilton. At the corner of 54th and 6th, New York let its freak flag fly. But where was Luigi?

Gonna Party Like It's 1999!

BlogHer: I'm here. I'm blogging. I feel so relevant! I'm back in NYC, on my own, for the first time since I lived here over 10 years ago. In 1999, New York was exciting, noisy, and filled with excess. Today, in 2010, things are pretty much the same. I'm a little older, a little worse for the wear, but a hell of a lot wiser. And I'm carrying a giant pill case.

The conference doesn't officially begin until tomorrow, but the throngs of female attendees descended on Manhattan a day early to settle in, schmooze, and to get their grooves back. Personally, I'm here to learn more about the business side of blogging and to be inspired by the stories of some amazing women. And, of course, to blog.

I caught a ride from King of Prussia this morning, thanks to Julie Meyers Pron. Julie and I went to high school together and she was kind enough to offer me a seat on the Collective Bias bus when she found out I was going to BlogHer. The bus pulled up to the Hilton at 12:30.

My room was ready, so I unpacked and headed out onto the streets of New York to find some food. I was in the mood for sushi, and I found a cute little place on 55th Street where I could tuck myself away with a good magazine and some crunchy spicy tuna. It felt very 1999.

My mission following lunch was to wander uptown a couple of blocks to that mecca of unreasonably large stuffed animals, FAO Schwartz. I wanted to find something cute to take home to Daniel ("airport presents," so to speak). I'm not sure if it was the massive candy section, the make-your-own-Muppet desk, or the giant piano on which Tom Hanks once performed Chopsticks, but I was like a little kid. Forget 1999. It was 1982!

I immediately found the "toy vehicles" and began to marvel at the countless trash trucks, bulldozers, and cement mixers lining the shelves. Though I was disappointed that I had to limit my purchases to items that would fit in my suitcase, I managed to snap a photo of this precious gem:

The picture above doesn't do it justice. This trash truck was ENORMOUS! Daniel could have played for days. I had to settle for a much smaller New York Sanitation Truck. Luckily, size doesn't matter. Daniel loves trash trucks, both large and small.

By the time I tore myself away from FAO Schwartz, it was 4:00 and registration was officially open. I walked back to the Hilton and took my place in line to collect my badge holder, lanyard, and giant bag of swag. (That's like the third time I've used the word 'giant' in this post...you gotta love New York!)

After sprucing myself up a bit, I hopped into a cab and headed downtown to meet Caitlin (my sister-in-law) at Tabla. This place was fantastic: The food was Indian-Fusion, and we ate ourselves silly. Rosemary naan, tomato and lentil curry, lamb loin and short rib, soft-shell crabs...you get the idea. Bonus points for the waiter, who had a cute Australian accent and was named Daniel. We had a great time! It was good, solid, sister bonding!

Don't we look pretty?

We tried in vain for a half-hour to hail a cab, but Madison Square Park wasn't too happening tonight. (Forgive me while I take off on a random tangent: The restaurant was located at 25th and Madison, just a couple of blocks from the office where I worked in 1999. Full circle! How cool is that?) I ended up on the F train, headed uptown to 57th Street. There was something about riding the subway at 11:30 at night that took me right back to the old days. Upon exiting the subway, I walked three blocks to the Hilton, cozied into my pajamas, and curled up with my giant pill case.

On the agenda for tomorrow: Lots of speakers, lots of swag, and lots of giant BlogHer goodness!

Good Morning, Sunshine!

I may have only one child, but that doesn't mean my mornings are any less hectic. Daniel has to be at camp by 9:00. Granted, his camp is 2 minutes from our house. And it's not like I'm getting ready for work -- usually just yoga, which allows me to look a lot less presentable! But if for no other reason than some comic relief (laughing at oneself is very therapeutic, don't you know?) I will give you a snapshot of what a typical summer morning is like in our house:

6:45 am -- My alarm goes off, set to B101. Nothing like getting Rob Thomas stuck in your head first thing in the morning. I hit snooze and drift off to the sound of Ollie snoring.

6:54 am -- Alarm again. If I'm feeling daring, I hit snooze one more time.

7:00 am-ish -- I drag myself out of bed, shower, and get dressed.

8:00 am -- An hour? Seriously? You may think I am crazy for taking so long to get ready. Let me assure you, only about 60 percent of that hour is devoted to hygiene and grooming. The other 40 percent is distributed between important tasks like checking e-mail, turning on the Keurig coffee machine, and picking up all of the clothing that Peter has thrown on the floor the night before.

So, back to 8:00 am -- I enter Daniel's room to "wake" him for the day. By now, he's probably been singing to himself for 15 minutes or so. He pops up when he sees me, but complains when I turn on the light and open the shades. "Too sunny, Mommy!"

This is where it gets a little muddy. I spend the next 10 to 20 minutes coaxing Daniel out of his crib to get dressed for camp. He likes to wrap himself up in his blankets and pretend he is still sleeping. If I try to grab him, he usually screams. I wrestle him out of his pajamas while he is still in his crib, then begin my negotiations. I try to lure him out by saying things like, "If you get up now, you'll be downstairs in time for Abby's Flying Fairy School." Surprisingly, that doesn't always work. Sometimes we'll play "claw machine," where I'm the claw and he's the prize to be won. I'll put imaginary quarters in the machine, move the arms of the claw, and pick him up by the feet. After two or three "drops," I go back one last time for the win.

8:15 am -- By now, Daniel is out of his crib with a clean diaper. It's time to apply sunscreen. He used to love helping me spray the sunblock on his arms and legs. Now he says things like, "I don't want lotion today." I've even found myself chasing him around the second floor of our house, spray can in hand like a weapon. I have a whole can of SPF 50 and I'm not afraid to use it! Despite this insanity, I always win.

8:20 am -- Fully dressed and lubed up, Daniel leads me downstairs for breakfast. He enjoys a cup of milk and a cereal bar while I scramble around, getting his camp bag ready and making breakfast. Occasionally, he gets tired of watching Abby's Flying Fairy School and demands that I put on one of his favorite DVD's. No matter which one he chooses, he will change his mind at least twice before I can leave him and return to breakfast preparation.

8:30 am -- Daniel sits at the kitchen table to eat breakfast. I leave the TV on. I know, I know -- I'm breaking the number one rule of good parenting. But it's Sesame Street, and it holds his interest while he eats! Otherwise, he would probably take one bite and run off to play the drums. I sit with him and eat my cereal, trying to keep him engaged in the programming and also trying to keep the flow of food moving freely into his mouth!

8:45 am -- If Daniel has sat at the table for a full 15 minutes, then I consider the morning a success. I let him play for 10 minutes before leaving for camp. After cleaning up the breakfast dishes, I sneak some sunscreen onto his face and put his shoes on his feet. When it's time to leave, I ask him to choose a truck or two to take in the car. He protests by saying, "Five minutes," and then negotiates down to "two minutes." Thank goodness he cannot yet tell time.

8:55 am -- We pile into the car and head off to camp. For the first time all morning, I can breathe. Daniel is usually happy to arrive at camp, and he barely gives me a parting glance before disappearing into the building. Another morning in the can.

Nap on the Rocks?

The above photo captures the essence of Daniel's nap this afternoon: An hour of singing and playing (and unbeknownst to me, tossing every stuffed animal, blanket, pillow, and book out of his crib onto the floor), followed by a half-hour of him calling, "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" He finally exhausted himself and fell asleep in his empty crib. Two hours later, when I went in to get him up, this is what I found. The look on his face was a cross between, "What did I do?" and "Who, me?" I have a sinking feeling that naptime is an endangered species.

Mr. Bossy Pants

Terrible twos...the greatest hoax ever. My child was a pleasant, easy-going, flexible two-year-old. He never threw tantrums, and he never resorted to hitting when he was angry or frustrated.

Then he turned three.

My agreeable two-year-old has been replaced by Mr. Bossy Pants. He has definite opinions about the way things should be, and is unwilling to compromise. Most of the time, I feel like I am negotiating with a terrorist -- simple tasks like getting out of bed in the morning, eating his breakfast, turning off the TV, and taking a bath have become a practice in disaster prevention. I hate that I'm allowing him to dictate my actions, but I'm constantly diffusing ticking time bombs. Don't get me wrong: Daniel is still a great kid. He smiles a lot, has an awesome sense of humor, and loves to cuddle. But he drives me crazy sometimes.

I find myself saying things like, "If you get dressed now, you'll get downstairs in time to watch Abby's Flying Fairy School" and "You can have a pack of gummies if you eat three more bites of dinner!" It's completely ridiculous and lazy parenting on my part. And it doesn't always work! Daniel has me wrapped around his finger, and he knows it.

Though I may sound naive, I never thought that Daniel would become one of those kids who cries at the drop of a hat when he doesn't get what he wants. He still doesn't throw full-blown temper tantrums (which is a blessing, especially in public) but he screams with anger if you do something he doesn't like. Peter and I joke that Daniel has worse PMS than a pre-menopausal woman. I can't help but think of that old poem:

There was a little girl

Who had a little curl

Right in the middle of her forehead.

And when she was good

She was very, very good

But when she was bad, she was horrid.

Substitute boy for girl, and you've hit the nail right on the head. I want my two-year-old back!

What a Difference A Year Makes

Last summer was Daniel's first "away from Mommy" experience -- he attended camp 3 mornings a week. For the first couple of weeks, he had to be pulled from my car in the morning, crying and pleading, "Mommy! Mommy!" I would watch my little peanut being carried into the building, and try to hold it together myself. Both he and I were unable to accept the separation at first. Things got better as the summer went on, but Daniel was still just a little boy who had never before been on his own. The hardest part for me was that he couldn't even tell me about his day. He used a couple of words here and there, but he wasn't exactly sharing his feelings. I had to have faith that he was happy in camp and that it was a valuable experience.

A year later, it seems crazy that I ever felt any anxiety over Daniel's adjustment to camp. After a wonderful school year during which he grew in leaps and bounds, both physically and intellectually, Daniel made a seamless transition into his second summer at camp. Mornings are a breeze -- Daniel doesn't flinch when his CIT opens the car door to retrieve him from the car. He climbs down from his car seat by himself, and struts into the building like he owns the place. Everyone knows his name. There are no more tears. Even when he comes home with a nasty-looking scratch, I ask him if he cried when he got hurt and he says, "No!" He tells me if he swam in the big or little pool, whom he sat with at lunch, and whether or not he saw Miss Allison for music. He climbs into the car at the end of the day with a smile on his face, and immediately asks if I've remembered to bring him a treat (usually gummy candy or a lollipop). He is a big boy now, and he knows what he wants. Five mornings a week, I know that he's going to have fun at camp. That's all I want.