My inability to bake a common cookies has been fairly well-documented on this blog. My business cards and email signature all brandish the label, "Cookie Assassin." I am trying to own my failures as a baker and a mother, but then tonight my kids bit into cookies that I had managed to make somewhat edible, but by the grace of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, they were honestly befuddled by the warmth and the softness of the entire event.
I am really very good at not talking about things. This is a grossly counterproductive character trait for a blogger.
Everything and nothing is happening with my husband and until I get to the place where I have even a singular answer, I don't know how to talk about any of it. Besides, he'll read this. He read everything the last time this happened and that instigated an international war.
I am mindful of the mines in my path.
And so I'm doing anything else but dealing with all of this inside of myself. Part of that is good: it's detaching, it's letting go, it's acknowledging that my life can and will continue even if his has come to a screeching hault. Part of that is not good, however: it's denying, it's avoiding, it's getting all worked up over bacon and cupcakes because I can't let myself get all worked up about this.
I also got the hell out of Dodge for a minute, which was way more helpful than I ever thought it could be. I am, by nature, a runner. I run away from that which hurts me, and so far, it's a trait that has served me decently well in life. I ran from my mother 20 years ago, I ran from my husband five years ago, and I run away from every single person whom I love and cannot be with. (Ask my best friend Molly sometime. She'll tell you all about my ability to disappear in plain sight.)
It's a crappy coping mechanism, but it's mine. I let time handle the impossible business of healing what is otherwise incurable, and I convince myself the scars that will never heal, have.
But it was pointed out to me a few weeks ago by someone much smarter than I am that I have started running towards my life, rather than away from it, and those words have sat right here on my shoulder, whispering into my ear, where my Abandonment Issue Angel used to sit telling me to just gogogogo.
So I went to Blissdom, which at first glance seemed to me like I was running away from my problems but, I realized after, was me running towards the people I'm going to need to help me deal with them moving forward.
I was terrified to leave home for three days with him being 3 1/2 weeks dry, because if I did, I would be relinquishing control of what could happen in my absence. I almost did stay home, in fact, but that Towards on my shoulder kept telling me to get a move on, already...and so I went.
And everything was fine. I had unapologetic fun. I went to bed at 9:30pm my first night there because I have forgotten how to sleep these past four weeks. I went to bed at 2:30am my last night there because I had forgotten how to get silly drunk with my friends on stairs these past five years.
And I talked. I talked to a lot of people about the things that I am not ready to talk about here, and it helped. I always forget how many people are willing to help you run your guns, if you only ask. I came back feeling a little bit lighter, a little bit more able to do the next thing that I have to do.
Even if I don't know what that is, exactly, just yet.
My kid does this thing with his hands whenever there is an uncomfortable moment in our day. He calls it Awkward Turtle and I'm pretty sure it's something he's picked up off of thems there internets, but I don't care because it's AWESOME and I'm going to use it right now.
*puts one hand on top of other* *sticks thumbs out and spins them around in circles* *inches turtle forward*
Oh, nevermind; ask me to show it to you next time you see me.
So there's no real seque from that post into this one, except that
A) everything is fine for now, and 2) I can't believe I didn't do that years ago, I feel *that* much better and lastly) I have bigger fish to fry.
Fish like blogging conferences. Blogging conferences like BlogHer, which is where I work now.
Um. Yeah. I cannot believe it, either.
After, like, 87 Internet Years, Jes Ferris moved on from BlogHer and I somehow duped them into letting me take her place as Conference Programming Manager, which is so very awesome and so very time consuming that I think I will henceforth just be a Saturday night blogger, if I'm lucky. I made it all of nine days into my Highly Lofty Plan to Post a Picture Every Day and posted two whole times at my Babble blog this year so they're probably going to fire me, but that's okaysih because I really, really, really truly, madly, deeply love my new job.
Really. I'd stand with it on a mountain. I'd bathe with it in the sea.
While we're on blogging conferences, I'm going to Blissdom for the first time ever, so if you're going too, I'll be the person continuously standing under something taller than she herself is, wearing rubber shoes and eating all the imitation Jesus-meat crackers I can get my hands on, just in case. Say hi, if you dare.
I'm also going to the Houston Meet-Up for Dad 2.0 summit this Thursday night at The Stag's Head Pub downtown because, ironically enough, I really need a fucking drink. That, and I think that Doug French and John Pacini are stand-up guys and fantastic leaders in the dad blogging community who are going to throw one hell of a boy's weekend out conference, and I fully support their efforts that I won't be able to attend, see: new job.
And I think that's pretty much the total summation of every minute of spare time I have from now until August 6th, which means Daphne Brogdon is going to have to keep flaring her nostrils at me for pretty much abandoning everything I was up to at my kids' schools, but that's okay because, well, frankly? She's stinking adorable when she roars her terrible roars, she says from several thousand miles away.
Volunteering At School: Do You Buck Up Or Bow Out? w/ Daphne, Janice and yours truly on Momversation.
I've been trying to get back into the swing of blogging by participating in Nablopomo this year (National Blog Posting Month) but seven days in, I've just failed miserably. I didn't post on Saturday because I simply ran out of things to say and I didn't post yesterday because I stayed up all night trying to figure out how, exactly, I broke the old feed to my wordpress site.
Right now, there are a few thousand people who think I stopped blogging in May. I know, I know, lucky devils. Most people who have this feed probably think I stopped blogging, too, when in fact I haven't...I've just been doing it other places.
And I think feeds are a dying art, anyway. I mean, you can't even share posts in the new Google Reader anymore and that function was the single best idea Google ever had, aside from self-diagnosing and that whole Total World Domination thing. So I guess I shouldn't care that my old feed dun broked; it's just that not being able to fix things frustrates me TO GAH*.
So I guess I'll just leave the subscribing to the Book of Faces and G+, which Oh! Opened up to brands yesterday! After they made me use my real name (ish) on the internet! Assholes! Which doesn't really matter since my big brother has made it his life's mission to show ever single person we've ever been related to my blog via the magic of Facebook. Facebook truly is the wasteland where all secrets go to die.
Either way, my new G+ page is right here. And here's a picture of what happens to my boobs around here when I'm not paying attention. Because shut up.
You know that point in your marriage where you just totally stop caring about having sex with each other and the only time you even think about it is when one of you ovulates because not even apathy is more potent than pheromones and after all, we are but mammals?
No, you don't know that point? Well fuck you, too. Anyway, my blog and I are there, except right now someone's ovulating, so here I am - poking around in this mofo.
I have like 15 posts in draft but they all are totally disjointed and annoyingly boring and most of them start off with I MISS MY KIDS SO BAD and end with WAIT, I DON'T MISS THEM ALL THAT MUCH, ACTUALLY because I spent most of February in California doing the coolest work I've ever done in my entire life. Problem was, I was there on a freelance contract which everyone knows is the dirty little cocktease of employment and now my normal life has resumed in normal Texas where my normal family is who won't let me have Tres Leches or Lemon Squares for lunch because they are mean people.
I would like to find whomever it was that taught them about balanced diets and the importance of nutrients and throttle that person until they are dead. Oh, wait.
So I kind of just gave up trying to blog because Shannon's professional and personal lives both kind of exploded but then Mr Lady was all like, "oh no you di-in't" and grabbed some Vaseline to slide her rings off and just like that, my blog world came out swinging, too.
I filmed my first Momversation video this week. It was way harder than I thought it would be, so be nice to me when it comes out because no one is good their first time so shut up. Oh, and I was invited to join Momversation. I kind of forgot to mention that before now. See? I have a bio and everything.
I also had to film an interview with the despicably adorable Andrea Roxas, Editorial Assistant at Babble. They're doing a monthly Q&A with all the 50 moms they chose to spotlight in 2010, and in the coming months, they'll be releasing interviews with a bunch of us, in which I may or may not come across as a total douchebag with an asymmetrical face.
Really, this is why I chose fake print as my medium.
She Posts ran an article the other day saying that Story Bleed has opened submissions which is awesome news except we hadn't actually opened submissions yet but their wish is our command and so submissions are open even though I am totally not ready for that and though I am not a webmaster, I play one on the internet and so I have a LOT of work to do in a very little window of time to get Story Bleed ready for all your awesome posts. Meanwhile, go here to submit. We're really excited to be back.
And lastly, but not leastly, BusyDad talked me into co-hosting a cooking show with him for The Motherhood as part of their Cooking Connections series, sponsored by Con Agra.
Jim and I are the last class in the series, and the first presented in a live video feed. We think this is because they just don't know us at all. I mean, the class hasn't even started yet and we've already made reference to our balls.
Our class was supposed to be Cooking With Dads but we think it's kind of silly to imply that most dads can't cook or that those who can't ever will, so we're just doing a Cook A Nice Meal For Your Significant Other Even Though You Think Deglaze Is Something Demi Moore Did With a Clay Pot In Ghost And Christ, If That Woman Isn't Dreadfully Hot All The Time, Yo?
We'll be live cooking from our live kitchens with our live kids and live dogs and live potty mouths and our 10 live super sexy co-hosts, who will be backing us up via chat at The Motherhood.
And to save you, and ourselves, from us for an entire live hour, we decided to open up the gates of Thunderdome and pit you all against each other. See, we'll need a potty break and a drink break and a "Mom, the dog just ate a poopy diaper" break so we need some commercials. Except we want you to make them. Because you're funny, that's why.
All you have to do is film a 60 (max) second commercial about anything (that is PG-13 and won't make the sponsor mad), upload it to Vimeo and leave the url for the video in the comments, or in my email box, or Jim's.
We'll air as many as we can in the hour and let the audience choose their favorites. The top three videos will get a gift basket of awesome from The Motherhood and ConAgra. Cheating is totally encouraged.
And with that, I have blogged more today than I did so far in all of 2011, so I'm going to go have a cigarette, then roll over and fall asleep.