First Thoughts on BlogHer '12

Me reading "Holding Hands" as a VOTY at BlogHer12*

It is now two days since I've come back from the overwhelming, awesome, non-stop whirlwind that was the BlogHer12 conference (and yes, I know it was in NYC, my home town and I didn't officially "go away" as I slept in my own bed every night, yet still I was away from my regular life) and I have yet to have a moment to organize my thoughts on the matter, craft a carefully thought out response.

But this year, damn it, I am determined to not go down my usual rabbit hole of over-rumination, of having to have everything thoroughly digested before I wax forth on the subject. In other words, I'm going to get a post up about BlogHer before the week is out!

Even though I haven't uploaded all my photos yet! Even though I don't know exactly what I want to say about it yet! Even though my brain hasn't settled down one iota yet! Squirrel! Shiny! Where was I? Oh, yeah...

So herein find... not a deep thinking piece of any sort, but rather, what pops out as I whirl through thoughts of the last few days, kind of like the wispy pink threads that are spit out of the core of a cotton candy machine, once it heats up and spins up to speed.

So I now offer up here a few spun sugar thought tendrils that I have caught on the white paper cone I am desperately trying to properly twirl through the bowl of my mind; picking up the feathery wisps and gathering together into something of mass.

(And have I mentioned I am abysmally bad at the actual cotton candy making in real life, having signed Ethan's 4th grade class up for this particular booth at his school's spring fair this year? I thought it would be easy - ha! It requires a certain sort of coordinated dexterity and speed that are currently beyond me. I kept making a mess of things. A sweet, sticky mess. I wish someone had taken a picture of me as I finished my turn at the booth covered in cotton candy bits; looking like I'd gone punk with pink and lavender strands strewn throughout my hair.)

But back to BlogHer (see, my mind, it wanders) here's some nibbles, full meal to come later...

It start and ends with the people, because that's why I'm really there: seeing my Twitter stream and Facebook feeds come to life, getting to engage in face to face conversations with people I already felt intimate with online was, once again, both extraordinary and joyful.

Thursday's Health Minder Day was especially important to me because I was doing the special needs parenting track, and these, THESE were my people. The ones I NEEDED to see, to embrace, to laugh with.

This year, other than Thursday, I went to less panels than any other year, and certainly less than I'd initially planned. Why?

Yeah. 

I WAS READING FRIDAY AFTERNOON.

And that kind of took up a looooooooot of brainspace until it was over. And then I was a bit of a limp noodle for the rest of the conference, afterward.

I had snagged a fortuitous invite (thanks Holly) to a fabulous offsite event organized by Beth and hosted by Liz, where I ran into a host of friends I'd wanted to meet up with and got my picture taken with Kristin Davis:

I'm sure Kristin Davis so wishes she had curly hair like the rest of us!

I also learned all about Zarbee’s all natural honey based cough products. And? It was the perfect thing to keep me busy and distract me from what was coming up next...

Me, reading.**

I did it!

I took the stage and read my post "Holding Hands" as a "Voice of the Year" keynote speaker. I was number fourteen of fifteen readers, and as I listened to the others read before me, sharing their words with the most supportive and accepting audience possible, I actually grew calmer instead of more nervous, as I'd feared.

Standing at the podium I did indeed feel all those who had been there before, standing beside me in spirit. And not just this year's speakers but all five years of Voices, none more so than Susan Niebur, the amazing "Why Mommy" who passed away this past winter after a fierce battle with metastatic inflammatory breast cancer.

Hearing HER read on this selfsame stage two years ago at BlogHer 10 was the absolute highlight of that year, and to me this will always be Susan's stage.

It gave me strength as I read my post about my very elderly mother, who is currently in a much more frail, vulnerable and sad place than when I had written my essay the previous spring. I had been afraid I was going to break down and cry. But i got through it by staying in the moment, feeling the audience, so full of friends and well wishers, right there with me.

And then Shari, the last Voice of this Year, read a completely hysterical essay that had me, and everyone in the room, nearly peeing ourselves with laughter.

My lovely friend Shari, reading

And then there were parties, hotel bar conversations, then Saturday, right, Saturday I... I don't even remember what I did on Saturday (limp noodle, remember). Oh, I did time in the Serenity Suite being and helping others be serene. So serene in fact that I fell asleep a bit, sitting upright too. (And Heather and Ellie, being with you there, one of the heartlights of my weekend.)

Truly time for bed now, I'm getting sloppy, happy-lovey here, and I'm stone cold sober. In fact I had all of ONE drink at BlogHer, some ghastly (but effective) concoction at the Aiming Low party. 

So... Everyone was beautiful, I loved you all (even those of you who stepped on my feet whilst dancing to the overloud shitty music) and if I didn't drop your name in this post tonight, that's just because I'm saving you up for my NEXT BlogHer '12 post-mortem post, wherein I will tell all.

Ok, not quite all.

Because what happens at BlogHer stays at BlogHer... well, except for the 4,000 posts being written about it. Oops! Bad place to misbehave (so glad I didn't).


*photo: Jean Stimey Winegardner
**photo: Holly Rosen Fink 

Listen to the Voices

Today I have a tremendous honor and privilege.

I get to read a blog post I have written in front about 5,000 people, mostly women, at the Voices of the Year keynote address at the BlogHer convention, here in New York City.

And? This is the friendliest, most receptive, appreciative audience I am ever likely to encounter.

And? Fourteen other wonderful writers will be reading along with me, sharing their words of humor, heart, self and belief. Some of these fellow Voices of the Year are old friends, some new. I can not wait to hear them read.

We bonded yesterday in our nervousness as we rehearsed our movements: from green room to holding area to stage, up and down a variety of steps and staircases (thanking goodness I will not be wearing high heels, having no desire to find out if I can actually fly).

We each spent a moment, standing center stage in front of this vast empty ballroom, imagining the faces of our friends, eager to hear our stories, shining up at us from below and beyond.

I am looking forward to it. A little anxious, but mostly excited in anticipation. Yesterday I wore a tunic whose pretty pattern was full of tiny butterflies, if you looked closely. When people asked if I was nervous about my upcoming reading I replied "Not really," then pointed out that I was wearing my butterflies on the outside, so I didn't have to have them in my stomach.

Voices of the Year as the Friday afternoon keynote is a BlogHer tradition that goes back to 2008. There are too many amazing writers in the cohort who have read in past years to name them all here, but suffice it to say I am in amazing company.

Polly/Deborah/Wendi/Eden/Jenni/Alexandra/Cecily/Tanis/Jill/Liz/Jenny/Marinka etc. etc. etc... thank you for paving the way.

But, for me, I will always associate the Voices of the Year with one very special Voice I heard read two years ago, on this same stage in this same ballroom: Susan Niebur, aka Why Mommy.

Susan's BlogHer10 VOTY Keynote address (photo via TeachMama)

At the time she was in the middle of battling yet another recurrence of metastatic inflammatory breast cancer. Susan finally lost that fight this year, in February, when her brilliant light was extinguished, much to the sorrow of many, keenest of all to her loving husband and two young sons.

I know I will feel Susan's presence with me as I walk up those steps, place my hands upon that selfsame podium and speak my words. That stage ever belongs to her, to me. 

But this afternoon I will take to it, make it mine for five minutes, share my words with all who will hear.

And thank you for listening.

And, if you can not be there to hear me, here is what I will read, a slight variation of a post from Spring, 2011:

Holding Hands

Today my mother was tired when I stopped in to visit, planning to take her downstairs to lunch.

And while many a day I will coax and cajole, force her to rouse herself, to rise to the occasion, today I didn't. I let her be.

Why? Because I was tired, too.

So I didn't make her make an effort, make her rise and dress, put in her teeth. I did hand her her hearing aid, however, to make conversation less about shouting and gesturing, and guessing.

And then? I laid down beside her on the big, now half-empty bed and held her hand.

And we talked.

We talked about the little things; about everything and nothing.

I told her how we had just this morning measured Ethan, to find he had grown a full half-inch in a month.

She patted her head and mine, proclaimed us both lucky in our luxuriant curly hair.

I talked to her about Jacob.

"He's still autistic, isn't he?"

"Oh, yes, that's for certain, probably always will be."

Her eyes soften, wishing there were something she could do, finding nothing.

"But he's doing well? He's in a good school?"

"Yes, Mom, Jake’s doing very well, and in a great school, where they love and appreciate him. I'll bring him by soon. He wants to see you, asks for you."

“So everything is good then?”

“Yes, Mom, everything is just fine, terrific.”

(Terrific? Is not a word I currently use to describe my life. Once you add Special Needs into the mix of kids and family, life becomes many things: intense. challenging, stressful - always - stressful, also meaningful and rewarding in ways I had never imagined. But “just fine”? “Terrific”? Not so much.)

But also, this is news that cannot be shared with my mother, not anymore. She needs to know - to believe - that all is well with me, that caring for her is never a burden. She would feel so guilty if she thought she were one more weight heaped upon my life. She feels bad enough it’s me taking care of her now instead of the other way around; that I’M washing out HER underpants. So, to her, my life needs to be “just fine.”)

"Haven't found me a man yet, have you?"

"Nope, Mom. They're either too old, too young or too... dull."

She nods in agreement, knows my father would be a hard act to follow. Yet, still, she longs for companionship.

We lay side by side, a short arms reach apart as I know she had lain for 51 years with my father on many a morning and evening talking about everything and nothing, the easy rhythms of intimacy.

I know this well in my own life, with my husband (though in these frantic child-rearing years, our quietly together times are much fewer and farther between)  -- and also with my son Ethan who zealously hoards his bedtime talking time with me, needing so much to process his day before releasing it to slumber.

I held my mother’s hand.

We talked of this and that, and then we drifted off to sleep; took a little nap, side by side, our fingertips a bridge from daughter to mother.

"I'm going to be 89 soon," she had said, "Imagine that."

"I can. I do. I'm no spring chicken myself, you know."

"I plan to make it to 100." Then, shaking her head, "Not likely."

"Why not?" I’d asked "Why not?'

She just smiled.

We napped.

I woke first, slipped my hand from her now lax fingers, stepped into the kitchen to do a little cleaning up after my formerly fastidious mother who now sees no dirt.

I came back to wake her, to say goodbye. (There was so much to be done back across town, in my own life: groceries to purchase, children to retrieve, encroaching domestic chaos to beat back.)

But first I sat softly on the bed, gently clasped my mother’s hand once again, leaned over to gaze at her barely lined, still beautiful face; whispered quietly, beneath the threshold of her dimmed hearing:

"Why not, 100? Why not?"

My 3rd Annual Obligatory Pre-BlogHer Post or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Con

Well, I figured if I made the title long enough I wouldn't actually have to write much of a post. Doesn't work that way does it? No? I thought not.

Can't I just distract and dazzle you with photos of BlogHers past? 

Me & Jenny at BlogHer10

Can't I just recycle one of my pre-BlogHer posts from the past two years? My funny, irreverent one from last year -  NOT a BlogHer primer - or - Don't take advice from ME! that sort of was a primer?

Or how about the one from 2010 - Look, Ma, I'm going to BlogHer - wherein I told tales out of Sundance and other conferences from my old life?

No?

OK, so here it is:

BlogHer 2012, the biggest, baddest women's blogging conference in the world, coming back to my home town (NYC) and staring in less than two weeks. And I'm... really not thinking about it much. Too much else on my plate, right now. 

Which is completely ridiculous as this year IS a big deal, or rather it's the biggest deal I'm ever likely to experience at a BlogHer conference as I'm one of the 15 Voice of the Year readers.

That means getting up on the stage and reading in front of 4,000 or so fellow bloggers. (Well, the ones who aren't off at fancy private parties, or glued to their bar stools in the Hilton lounge downstairs, or still stuffing swag into their bags in the Expo Hall, that is.)

And have I bought new clothes, lost twenty pounds, had my front teeth fixed, had my hair professionally dyed and well cut? Um, that would be no. People are going to have to take me as I am, the imperfect semi-disheveled mom of my day-to-day life.

Have I filled out a planning spreadsheet, gotten myself invited to a thousand glittery private parties, set up all my meals with people I need to see? No again. There is just going to have to be a lot of serendipity involved this year.

I have bigger fish to fry.

(My Mother.)

I may even have to miss a part of the conference, as I can't spend five straight days without going to see and take care of my mother, wherever she may be at that point. (Her latest tentative release date from rehab is July 30th, and yet she can't go back to living on her own as she is, and I have no idea how this is going to work out.)

The one thing I am doing is praying hard for no major crisis in any part of my life on August 3rd. I really want to read.

So the shakeout of all this, is that I have neither the time nor inclination to be anxious about BlogHer this year. Not that I was much in other years either (see aforementioned posts, I really don't get the per-conference jitters) but it's possible the whole reading in front of 4000 other (mostly) women thing might have gotten me a little spooked.

But no, I'm just going to show up and... whatever whatever. Because the hamster running on the wheel in my brain is so completely burnt out right now, I have very little capacity for planning anything beyond my next moment. Other than, you know, making sure the kids are properly awakened/fed/medicated/lunch-made/backpack-packed/sunscreened/dropped-off/picked-up/dinner-fed/entertained/medicated/bathed/bedded.

And making sure that this will all still go on smoothly while I'm busy at BlogHer. Because even though I will be sleeping at home? I have warned the family that it is going to be LIKE I am away, so expect me to be completely MIA. But, ha!

Guaranteed I will be called back to duty for some minor emergency or other. (Yes, honey, I still remember that 6am YOUR time, but 3am MY time phone call last year to ask where Jake's lunch box might be kept.)

When I stop to think about it for a minute (pause, OK) I am actually very excited about meeting up with dear friends, old and new, distant and near. I can't wait to see my roommates from last year (The Empress) Alexandra and (Dusty Earth Mom) Shari.

Me with BH11 roomies Alexandra & Shari - the 3 Bloggeteers!

Last year Alexandra was a Voice of the Year reader, and this year, Shari and I BOTH are. We think maybe The Empress was our lucky charm. So if you want to be a reader next year, maybe you should go rub her belly for luck. (My dear Alexandra, if a bunch of women accost you next week, forgive me!)

I am also so excited about meeting up with my autism and other special needs parenting cohort at the Thursday Health Minders Day track for us, about taking care of ourselves as we take care of others. Hmmmm... needed much? (YES! YES! YES!) There are too many names to name here, but you know who you are, my peeps, and I can't WAIT to squeeee with you.

And then there's my Listen to Your Mother clan - both the New York performers & production team and my producing/directing counterparts from around the country. I can't wait to see them all, and especially our fearless leader, Ann Imig.

And if you're going to be at BlogHer, YOU should be sure to come to the Listen to Your Mother Open Mike Salon. It was a highlight of last year's BlogHer and promises to be even better this year!!!

I am also doing a stint hosting the Serenity Suite - come visit me there on Saturday from 12-1 and again from 4-5.

OK, looks like I'm actually getting scheduled up, going to be pretty busy there, after all. (Note to self: remember to make up Jake's thrice daily vitamin & medicine packs to last through next Sunday, TODAY!)

And? If you're at BlogHer and you're my friend?

Please come to the Friday afternoon keynote address and sit front and center, so I can see some familiar faces in that sea of humanity when I'm reading, just in case the nerves DO creep up on me. Okay? Thanks.

Have a happy BlogHer everyone!

p.s. If you get the homage reference in the title of this post: congratulations, you are either of my generation or a film buff.

Wordless Wednesday: Thank Goodness

Thank goodness for Wordless Wednesday today, as I am still deep in the muck of this nasty, nasty cold and couldn't pull a "real" post together if my life depended on it (and thank goodness it doesn't).

After dropping Ethan off at school and running a couple of errands this morning I got home and lay down in bed "for a few minutes." I woke up just in time to go downstairs to meet Jacob's school bus. At 4 pm. Really.

Every time I went out, I felt as if the wind and cold were attacking me, personally. And taking the weather personally? Something I do not normally ever do. So I am clearly not in my right head, thinking fuzzy.

So I think I am all done with these word things for today, better stick to photos. May I present my week in pictures:

Remember what I'd said about my car looking more like a snowbank? 

Before: Yes, there IS a car in there!

Well, this week all the snow emergencies were over and they finally brought back alternate side parking regulations, so it had to move! Luckily some time had passed since it looked like THAT and I was able to get it moved, see:

After: Free at last!

The wonderful Jen from The King and Eye and Irish Autism Action was over from Ireland, visiting New York City with her Mum. In spite of feeling like crud, I went out to dinner with them and it was delightful. (There's nothing like meeting an good cyber-friend for the first time!)

Jen & I at a magic little spot on the Upper West Side: Cafe Lalo

Jake had Basketball, as usual, on Saturday. The big kid buddies are awesome. (And some of them are REALLY tall.)

Jake (Mr. Yellow) is a good shot!

On Sunday, I took Jake and my Mom to a Music for Autism interactive concert. I am not going to go on and on about them here (there's a whole post in that, coming soon) but it was AWESOME and we all had a great time, including hanging out with my Twitter friend SherriPizza & her son.

Jake LOVES music!

Music for Autism concerts are noisy and busy!

Ethan had a parents-welcome demonstration in his after-school fencing class:

One for all and all for one!

 I took my Mom to the doctor for a routine check-up. All is well!

Not bad for 88, right?

Monday night? I should have been in bed with the covers pulled up over my head. Instead I ventured out into the rainy night to hang out with about 25 other NYC bloggers.  Since I had tweeted this event into existence, I really had to show up, ya know?  We were mostly, but not all Moms; mostly, but not all women; mostly, but not all NYC (some had braved NJ Transit and MetroNorth trains to get there). We had a blast:

Hanging with the bloggers at the Brickyard!

Bloggers really like to talk! (Who knew?)

(Next one is in April. Tweet me if you want the info.)

And... it's a wrap!

I’m linking up to Wordless Wednesday at Angry Julie Monday.
I'm also linked to Special Exposure Wednesday at 5 Minutes for Special Needs