I may be the only blogger not going batty at the prospect of landing in New York next week for the BlogHer conference. It's not that I'm not doing the happy dance at the prospect of meeting my TBFF and writing partner, Juliette, in person for the first time. It's not that I don't like a good obessive freak-fest about which outfit to wear for what since I am famous for putting on mascara and lipstick just to go buy a gallon of milk at Walgreens. And it isn't that I'm not looking forward to doing that whole Social Media thing in person with as many bloggers as my little Social Butterfly wings can get me to before the festivities come to an end. But it is that I'm knee-deep in trying to pack a suitcase for 17 days for a combined family vacation to Michigan, where I'm landing on Tuesday to drop off Buttercup, with enough crap for me, The Husband, and the princess-child. It is that I'd like to bitch-slap The Husband for booking me a flight that requires me to get Buttercup out of bed at 4 so we can be at the airport by 5 and because said flight includes a 37 minute layover which I'm supposed to navigate with a toddler, our carry-ons, and a stroller in an airport I've never been to. It is because I'm not going to be able to breathe until I'm safely on the second flight because of the anxiety I'll have about not making that second flight. It is because I know that for 6 hours, I'm going to be going absolutely senile trying to keep up with Buttercup's "But why's" and "Mama! Mama!" because I won't have The Husband to play relief. It is because I just finished a book and have my head so far into queries and agents and submission guidelines that I can't see pass the words "Dear (Insert Agent Name Here)."
And until I land in Michigan, I won't actually have a real moment to concentrate on the flight that takes me to New York City. A moment to myself. A moment to realize I'm actually going to BlogHer. And I'm actually going to meet Juliette after a year of a social media match made in heaven all day Gmail conversations that eventually went beyond the expected formality of actually saying good-bye when one of us needed to, you know, pee. Watch out, baby...the Mexi-fro is a site to behold in person. Trust me. The photos did not do it justice.
So until I get beyond Round 1 of my traveling craziness, I won't be able to properly freak for Round 2 of BlogHer bliss. Until then, it's all about keeping tabs on my sanity.