As a kid, I always loved the first day of school. I would sit and stare at my school supplies - the clean pages of the notebooks, the unsharpened pencils, the markers/crayons/colored pencils fresh and full of color – and see the potential. I would sit and ponder the words that I might write, the art I might create and I could barely contain my excitement. Last night, as I helped Miguel pack his backpack, I shared this memory with him and added without thinking, “…but I was nerdy that way”. He said, “What’s nerdy about that?”

And now…it’s time to wake them and begin…

Me: Zeca, head upstairs and start getting ready for bed.

Zeca(near tears): But MOM! You promised me that I could clean the toilets! 

Me: You’re right, honey. I did. Okay, I will let you clean the toilets before bed.

Zeca: Yay! You’re the best mom ever!

That’s right, Zeca loves to clean toilets and I am happy to let her.

Sorry for the short post but we spent the day at the Minnesota State Fair. It was cold and very windy. It was also crowded and there were anti-Obama t-shirts and pro-Emmer buttons and a pervasive smell of animal urine. So, we are happy to be home. I think I’ll go bleach my nostrils and take a nap.

Have a great weekend!

That is most certainly not how that dream was supposed to end. I woke up deeply disappointed – fucking lice ruined my three-way with Dream Sara Ramirez.

And then…I sent Zeca up to get ready for bed.

Zeca went in Miguel’s room. He asked her to leave. She ignored him. He got increasingly frustrated. She continued to putz around touching all of his things until he snapped and started yelling for her to leave his room. She proceeded on her Tour of Touching. He threatened her and she finally moved to the doorway. He demanded she leave and she maintained that she wasn’t in his room, she was in his doorway. He lost it and hit her. She threw herself to the floor.

The parenting gods smote me because I mentioned my perfect evening on Twitter. 

The next 15 minutes were filled with tears and shouts. Zeca cycled through sadness and fury. Miguel cycled through anger and frustration. I cycled through outrage and fatigue. I talked to Miguel for a long time about his behavior and he finally seemed to understand that he cannot hit his sister, no matter how annoying she may be. I then spent time with Zeca comforting her but also laying it out – listen to people when they tell you to stop or when they need space. I then said goodnight to both and went back downstairs. When I sat down at the computer, there was a note covered in hearts from Miguel that said:

Dear Mom-

I am sorry it went this way.

Love, Miguel

And he had placed a Reese’s peanut butter cup on top. He then came downstairs and sat by me on the couch and said, “It must be stressful to be a parent. I am sorry that I am part of that sometimes. I love you.”

Is this a 9 year old thing? If so, please send me a truck load of 9 year olds!

Steeling Myself – a haiku

This cup of coffee

Must sustain me for the day

What more can I add?

With one minute to spare…

In the end, I have realized that BlogHer made me feel a little lost. I find myself wondering what I’m doing, with this blog, with my writing. Maybe this is the best kind of lost there is. Maybe in recognizing that I’m lost, I will find my way. To be found, I know that I must trust and believe in myself. I’m not sure how to do that but I know if I don’t, I will once again find myself in that hammock on the Path of Least Resistance. Advice is welcome.  

One other thing… 

Every week, I am all over the internet and read tons of posts and articles. Sometimes, friends in the real world ask me to compile a list of links for them to read and I realized I’d like to start doing that here too. There is so much out there! So, here are a few things that I loved this week:

• Deb on the Rocks wrote an inspiring piece about her stay at the Chelsea Hotel in NY: Pilgrimage, New York, Hotel Chelsea, BlogHer
• Rachel wrote a thought-provoking post on Autostraddle about being alone:  Eat Pray Love Won’t Teach You How to Be Alone (or, “First Try to See Something, Anything Else”)
• Esra’a spoke at BlogHer about her work with the site Mideast Youth and she was hilarious and amazing. Check out Mideast Youth so you too can be amazed. 

Have a great weekend! I’ll be back next week. I’m sure of that.

The first thing I saw when I stepped into the expo hall was a booth for Jimmy Dean and a batallion of corn dogs laid out in front of an enthusiastic young rep. A corn dog would be perfect! Protein is always good! I bellied up to the bar and said in my perkiest voice, “I’ll have a corn dog!” She replied in a voice perkier than mine, “Here you go! But they’re not corn dogs – they are turkey sausages wrapped in maple flavored pancakes!” I was slightly disappointed but tried to out-perky her once more by saying, “GREAT!” like a drunken, lesbian Tony the Tiger.

Turns out that drunken lesbian tigers do not like breakfast on a stick. 

Next up was a booth promoting something. What? You want more detail? Did you not determine my state of mind in the paragraphs above?! All I remember is that there was a picture of Caillou and I was hoping for some Caillou merch because Zeca loves Ruca. I know you’re thinking, “What? Wait – who is Ruca?” I haven’t totally lost it – Ruca is Caillou in Portugal. There was no Caillou merch, however. Apparently, it’s produced by Canadians and they hoard it like gold bouillon. All was not lost, however, because they had big sugar cookies covered in suspiciously smooth and shiny icing. Was I daunted by the plastic look of the cookies? Hell no! I took one, ripped open the bag and took a big bite. Chew. Cough. Gasp. Chew. Pray for more saliva. Chew. Swallow. Finally. No one in their right mind would ever take a second bite of a cookie like that. Well, almost no one. Let me tell you, the second bite was just as bad. 

Soon after the cookie incident, we came upon the Pillsbury booth where they were decorating miniature cupcakes. Mini cupcakes are so happy and hopeful! I ran over to get one but something told me that it was a bad idea. That “something” might have been Deborah or a particularly nasty wave of nausea – I can’t remember – but I didn’t have a cupcake. Somewhere around there, though, I ran into the Terra Chips booth and tried their new, exciting flavor! I can’t remember what it was called but it was something like Thanksgiving Curry at Old Country Buffet and it tasted just like it! Kudos to you, Terra! I looked into my tiny martini glass full of curried chips and said, “I can’t do this. Really.” And then, like a vision, Elmo appeared. You might think I was hallucinating by that point and I would too if I hadn’t found this picture on my Blackberry:

I was a haggard, haggard blogger - sick, tired and a little creeped out by how hot and sweaty Elmo was. I limped past the Play Doh booth and briefly considered eating some of that. Salt helps sometimes. But, instead, we went to a booth that was giving away spanx and I got a bag of Pirate’s Booty- organic cheese puffs in Cheetos clothing. About 5 booties in, I knew I’d made a mistake. It wasn’t just the Pirate’s Booty – it was the whole plan. That’s right – I had an epiphany in the expo hall and I knew I needed water. There was no water. There were Playtex bottles and Thermos water bottles but there was no frickin’ water. There was a Got Milk booth, however. Milk has water in it, right? Milk – it does a body good, right? My body needed some good-doing so I stumbled to the booth like a rhino to a stream and grabbed a bottle of skim milk.

It was not a good day for rhinos in the expo hall. 

The rest of the day is a blur. Did I eat dinner? I don’t know. I do know that I ended up at the Heartland Brewery that night. I don’t know what time I got there and I don’t know what time I left. I had only one drink before realizing that I needed to go to bed. I walked away from good beer and better company, wandered back to the hotel and did just that.  It was the best idea I’d had all day. Sleep – it does a body better.

Eventually, I emerged from the park and there were street signs with numbers, numbers that guided me back to the hotel. I felt like the Girl Who Lived. I stumbled into the hotel looking like a contestant in some sort of lesbian Sweat T-Shirt Contest.  Let me just say that there are people who love the smell of their own sweat. Some of these people work in earthy crunchy cafés so that you can’t tell whether it’s the soup of the day or the server’s arm pit that smells like cumin and onions. Some sweat lovers hang out at gyms and claim that their sweat makes them feel alive. I am not one of those people. I hate to sweat. How much do I hate to sweat? I knew you’d ask so I made you a handy chart:

By the time I got to my room, my clothes were stuck to me like a stinky wet suit. The only things that were dry were my socks and my mouth. I took a shower, put on a clean pair of underwear and laid down on the bed. There was only one thing that could cool me down and help me forget the sweat – the mini bar. I broke it open and made myself a gin and tonic. It might have been the best gin and tonic I have ever had which is a good thing because, when I got the bill, I discovered that my little G and T cost $25. It was worth every penny - you haven’t lived until you’ve had a $25 gin and tonic while pantsless in New York.

So, I’ve been busy getting ready for the trip which included shopping for new clothes which involved an ill-fated trip to the Mall of America that I documented over at GTS. I was unable to assemble a new, hip wardrobe for my trip so I’ll likely look like some sort of queer midwestern hobo. If I could find a trained monkey, I think I could make some good money panhandling outside the Hilton. I’m guessing those lady bloggers would take pity on me.

I will be in NY through Sunday but won’t be posting. I will be tweeting though so you should follow me. I’ll probably tweet so damn much it will be like you are there with me. C’mon! Haven’t been wanting to go to NY? When I get back, I am heading right to a cabin in Wisconsin for a week where I won’t have any internet access. I’ll be going from one extreme to another. Anyway, my point in giving you my itinerary is not to bore you but to say – I’m outta here for awhile.

Farewell! I promise to check the hotel room for bed bugs!