It’s Conference Time!

‘Tis that time of year for mommy vacations, er, blogging conferences.

type-a parent conference

Type A Conference

On Thursday, I will leave and pick up Crystal at the ATL airport and we’ll head up to Charlotte for the Type A Parent Conference. This will be the first time Crystal and I have met in person, even though we’ve worked on Band Back Together for gosh, about 2 years together.

I went to Type A last year and thoroughly enjoyed it. I was very anxious and nervous about meeting so many “big bloggers” and all kinds of silliness like that.

This year, I’m feeling pretty dang relaxed. I’m excited about seeing friends from last year and making new connections with people I know online.

There are a few of the sessions I’m REALLY pumped about. And of course the parties will be fun. But mostly, I’m looking forward to hanging out and being in the presence of so many amazing women (and a few amazing men who come).

BlogHer '12BlogHer 2012

A few short weeks after that, I’ll be headed to BlogHer in NYC. And I’m just beside myself excited about it. You’ll remember Jason made me get a ticket when I found out about being a Voice of the Year honoree.

I love New York so much, I’m going without any plan whatsoever. Either I’ll hook up with people and go out gallivanting or I’ll just do my own thing.

So here’s hoping I come home from both conferences with new ideas, new enthusiasm, new motivation and new friends!

If you’ll be at either, let me know!

Calories Don’t Count…

Calories don’t count…

  • on birthdays
  • at charity functions
  • on vacation
  • while standing up
  • while drinking Diet Coke
  • when the Hot Donuts Now light is on at Krispy Kreme
  • when you’re dining with friends
  • at the bar
  • at blog conferences
  • on holidays, up to and including Flag Day, Sweetest Day and Groundhog’s Day
  • on picnics

So… that leaves a window of about 30 minutes on every other Tuesday for calories to count, right?

What are other times that calories don’t count?

 

Nine. 9. IX. Nueve. Part 2.

9 years.

3288 days.

78,912 hours

284,083,200 seconds.

That’s how long it’s been since you took your last breaths in our arms, while the sun streamed through the curtains for the first time in days.

I have to wonder what you would be like now. What would you enjoy?

Baseball, football, tennis or golf?

Scouts, karate, video games?

You would be finishing up 3rd grade. Moving on to 4th. Wow.

Would you be funny? Serious? Sensitive? Rough and tumble?

Mama’s boy or Daddy’s boy?

I can ask questions all day long, but I’ll never know.

What I do know is that you changed me. You changed us.

We are different.

We are better and we are worse.

We’ll never be who we were “before.”

But that’s ok.

I don’t want to be who I was “before” if that means you were never in our lives.

For the 9th birthday post, go here.

For something funny now that you’re probably crying, go here.

The Knot.

The Knot.

**kleenex warning**

Conversations are swirling in my head, making about as much sense as they did during those 3 long days 9 years ago. A lot of words were said. Hope was tossed around. Hope was taken right back, like that “gimme five,up high, down low, too slow” game.

The thoughts in my head, they’re getting knotted up and confusing.

The knot formed by all the swirling thoughts gets tighter in my stomach as I’m remembering.

Remembering.

That’s a funny thing. I want so desperately to remember. But I want so desperately to forget.

The things I want to remember are the simple, tangible, normal moments.

The moments where we walked the track in Byron at Relay for Life, with me wearing a baby and only letting people touch his little toes. The moments where Jason grabbed the camera and snapped pictures of us while I blushed because I hate having my picture taken.

I want to remember bringing him home from the hospital on Memorial Day after he had to stay because he was jaundiced. I want to remember my friends coming to visit and oohing and aahing over him.

The moments I want to remember are the ones that are slipping away. The sounds of him sleeping, the smell of his fresh-bathed skin, the feel of his fuzzy hair. I long for those details to stay with me. But they are the ones that are slowly drifting away.

I want to forget the words that were said in the hospital, sentences that will forever be engraved in my memory. They’re the memories that tie my stomach into a double knot and force my heart into my throat because I start thinking of the enormity of it all.

I want to forget the memory of sitting with the funeral director choosing a tiny casket on the day he was supposed to be born. That day also happened to be Father’s Day.

I want to forget the sight of my strong and brave husband standing at the pulpit of the church giving a eulogy for his first-born son. I never want to forget what he said, though.

Really, I don’t want to forget those moments so much as I want for it to never have happened.

I want to trade the knot in my stomach that holds all my pain for just a little more time with my Charlie.

But I can’t.

It wasn’t and isn’t in my cards. 

Image via Flickr, Creative Commons

The dingo ate your baby

Did you see this headline this morning?

Coroner rules dingo really did take Australian baby in 1980

Did it make you think of this?

Because it made our kid do this:

In all seriousness, I’m sad for this family. They knew what happened and it took 32 years for the coroner to rule that what they thought happened, really did.

But now they can try to find peace and closure in their decades-long search for the truth. My heart, as a grieving mother, goes out to them.

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