Tippy Toes and Tantrums

How to Send a Birthday Card Love Bomb

Today is my mom's 70th birthday, which seems downright youthful when expressed in dog years (490). She didn't want a party, which was fine because we threw her a giant 60th birthday ten years ago, where we used up the best theme available for an adult party: margaritas. It was also the party where we let her tell people that I was pregnant, which explained why I sat alone in the kitchen alternatively fighting nausea, then stuffing my face. 

This birthday we needed something different and created a birthday card love bomb. The impetus for the idea came from Jordan Ferney's postcard surprise idea, and while I thought that I could print a photo of my mom on the back of the postcards so that each one contained a section of the print, it didn't make sense. Trying to find the right photo to define 70 years would be next to impossible, plus, it would detract from the message side of the postcard, which is the meat of the project. 

We made a list of 70 friends and family members (excluding my dad, for secrecy reasons), and in late April, mailed them each an addressed and stamped postcard with a note asking them to share a memory, funny story, or birthday wish for my mom, and to mail them between May 4-9.* Her birthday is today, May 10, and the mail range made sure that she got some birthday love each day of the week leading up to the big event. 

Love bomb directions, ready to go.

We bought 70 size A6 note cards in Blush, 70 A6 envelopes in Strawberry, Strawberry printing paper, ink and 7, 0, and flourish frame stamps, all at Paper Source. We chose postcards because for many people, it can be daunting to look at a large empty piece of paper that needs to be filled. A postcard is short, sweet, and easily filled. After buying postcard and envelope stamps, we were ready to go. 

I stamped while my youngest sister addressed the postcards to my mom. I wrote up the note explaining how to participate, then stuffed and addressed the envelopes. We didn't tell our dad about it because he's not great at keeping secrets, but it's also hard to secretly get ahold of him as he rarely answers the phone and my mom compulsively checks caller ID. He's also the type of person who keeps his cell phone off until he needs to use it. The fact that people may be trying to reach him is of no concern to my dad. 

Only one person mailed her postcard early, but because it was only one, my mom didn't think anything of it. It wasn't until the second one arrived that she asked where people were finding this 70-stamped stationary. 

Our project cost just under $150, but could be done for less using materials already on hand or from a less expensive craft store. We're happy with the quality and outcome from the materials we used, which, while not cheap, is far less than throwing a party for all 70 friends and family, without any of the post-party clean up.

My mom loved the love bomb. She was touched by the notes, and one cousin even included some prime Giants tickets, making it the best birthday gift ever for my mom.  

*When googling the birthday surprise post, I found a similar adaptation in which the author asked for letters mailed to herself and she presented them to her dad on his birthday. It's another way to try this great idea. 

The Ethics of Being a Good Airplane Traveler

A few months ago, while chatting with a dad at school, he brought up the article So Who Gets the Armrest in the Wall Street Journal. I found this fascinating because airline travel sometimes feels like it's going the way of Lord of the Flies. Flying feels more like riding Greyhound. The article covers things like who gets the armrests (the middle seat), how are bathroom breaks handled if neighbors are sleeping (wake them up), and whether it is okay or not to recline your seat (I effing hate when people recline the seat. For the record, I don't fly red eye. There is nothing worse than learning over to type or read only to have my forehead smacked by the seat of the person in front of me. Once, I had a guy try over and over to recline, confused because his seat was getting stopped by a barrier, which happened to be my head.)

I thought about air traveler ethics during our recent flight because Kevin sat next to a situation that would have made me crazy. Two girls got on the flight with back to back middle seats, and the problem was they wanted to sit next to each other. I should clarify: by girls I mean women in their early 30s. These weren't kids. One of the women asked Kevin to change seats with her friend in the middle seat behind them. Kevin said no because he needed to be near his family across the aisle. The women put the pressure on the three other women around them, sitting in the aisle and window seats of their two rows. Everyone said no, they would not trade for a middle. The middle seat women seemed surprised and bothered by the response, to which I say, "what the hell did you expect?" But, don't worry, they managed to be together on the full flight.

First, back row woman stood up and hung over her friend in the middle row.

Then, front row woman turned around in her seat to interact with back row.

This went on for the full flight. The only twist was when the row behind the back row friend cleared out to use the bathroom, which then the woman next to Kevin moved to that row, to stand behind her friend and give her a back rub. 

Again, this was the entire six hour flight. 

I cannot imagine what it would have been like if they were seated next to each other. 

The middle seat sucks, we all know it, but your fellow passengers didn't force you into that seat, so don't take it out on them. 

I wish all airlines showed the little cartoon preview that Virgin airlines shows to explain the rules (actually, I wish all airlines were Virgin America). We are all in this together, so don't act like an ass. 

The upside of witnessing bad traveler behavior is that my kids made note. On the way back East, two kids sat directly behind my kids, in a row with their dad, who read the entire flight. The mom slept through the flight in another row. The two kids were pretty loud and often badly behaved. The woman in front of us kept shooting me nasty looks, to the point that I almost shouted out that those were not my kids. Clover was bothered by the noise and the seat kicking, making her aware that a few bad apples spoil it for all kids. On the flight home, toward the every end when Rocket got restless and squirrely, Clover reminded him, "DO NOT be like those kids behind us on the last flight. Remember them? We don't want to be like them!" This message, coming from his sister, was more powerful than anything I could have said. 

A Successful Start to the Rebuilding Year

This morning, I woke with a headache, which soon turned into a blinding migraine that hurt even in my teeth. But still, I made it to the gym. For the past month, I have worked out every day, and I wasn't about to let a migraine break my streak. I am the Cal Ripken Jr. of my garage treadmill.

I've belonged to a gym for years, and I attended regularly, but when I started with a personal training in October, I found out that a water workout does not build the strength to lift in the workout room. This moved me out of the water and upstairs, to the giant room with all the machines and sweaty people. I'm pretty pleased with the amount of strength I've built up in the past few months. You may not know it to look at me, but I am strong enough to kill you, which was my goal. My goal wasn't to kill you, per se, but to be ready for the zombie apocalypse that Rocket promises is coming. And I'm feeling pretty ready.

I'd been kicking around the idea of a treadmill, hoping that post-remodel, there would be a nice, out of the way place for one in the house, but that wasn't going to happen. Late, on the night after Thanksgiving, I decided I was ready for a treadmill that wasn't a clothes hanger, even if this meant working out in the garage and dropping the dream of getting two cars in there. With two minutes to spare on Black Friday, I ordered a treadmill at a screaming deal. I was ready to go...but unfortunately, it took a month for the treadmill to arrive. (The delay was due to either laziness or an attempted shake down by the local delivery company, but the treadmill company handled it all so well, that I loved them before stepping foot on my treadmill.)

The treadmill arrived the day before Christmas, and I was too busy to try it, then I got sick Christmas night and was wiped out for days. Suddenly, it was Jan. 2, and I was finally ready to roll, I mean run. I shouldn't say roll because my fear is that I stumble, hit the treadmill deck, then shoot off the back, much like my middle sister did TWICE at my parents' house. I've used the treadmill almost every day since. On the days I don't, it's because I've used the one at the gym. (The gym treadmill has a TV that I either love or feel motion sick from watching, it all depends on the day. Also, I secretly race the people around me at the gym. I can now take most old people. Most. Not all.)

The treadmill and other zombie apocalypse prep was not a New Year's resolution. What was a resolution of sorts was my word of the year - strive - but truly, within days of proclaiming strive the focus point of my year, a new, better word kept popping up in my head: rebuild. This year is about tearing down the old, weak parts, and rebuilding something better to replace it. This has been a great month and a great start, even when there were set backs (literally, property set backs) with the house remodel plans, migraines or another special time of the month that made me want to curl up in bed and eat chocolate ice cream (which I did, after I did my time on the treadmill), a heavy workload, and various other issues, all the things that would normally wear me down and make me feel sour, didn't. I made a conscious decision to be more positive, and it's worked. It hasn't work every moment of every hour, but overall, I feel more upbeat.

I'm kinda sad to see January go. It was a good time.

Letting a Sleeping Dog Lie

This photo is for my sister, who acts like I am Michael Vick, and for people who are shocked to find out we have a dog.

This is Maddie, the neurotic pug. I came home the other day to find her sleeping on my sweater, which had fallen from where I'd left it. I rolled my eyes, and even though I wasn't happy with her new bed, I let it go, allowing her to hibernate on. The only thing that will get her up from a deep winter slumber, is the gardener, and he wasn't coming by for four days, so this could be a long stay. Maddie slept for a few hours, and the moment she got up and walked away, the sweater went straight into the hamper. But the point here is that I let her sleep on my clothes, uninterrupted, earning myself a badge in compassion.

Maddie has always been crazy, but now, at nearly 11 and a half, she's old lady crazy, and I'm treating her as such. She barks at the wind, she cannot hear, she's pushy in the kitchen, and she complains through grunts if someone has blocked access to one of her two beds. (Two beds! Living in luxury!)

We met with our architect on Friday, who asked if Kevin and I wanted any special pet considerations in a mudroom as we fine tune our renovation plans. One of us snorted, and the other laughed. I see the mudrooms with dog baths on Pinterest or the built in dog bowl trays on kitchen islands, but that is not where we are as pet owners. We had planned on keeping the carpets until Maddie passed on, but those are going too, because I'm tired of looking at the awful carpets, then at the dog, then at the calender. Hard wood it is. Maddie doesn't care, as long as there is sunlight, two beds, and a gardener to bark at.

Pagoda the Turtle is a different story. Pagoda's needs are simple, except that he needs to tan more than Pauly from Jersey Shore. Finding a home for his aquarium is not so hard, but finding a spot for his aquarium, plus his heat lamp is a burden. When talking about theoretical fire evacuation last night, Rocket said it was sure going to be hard to carry the big aquarium to safety. I told him that we would grab Pagoda and run. Rocket said, "I hope he goes into his shell and waits it out there." Of course, last night as I tried to go to sleep, my last thought was of me standing in the dark, across the street from our burning house, with Kevin, two kids, a senile dog, and a snapping turtle in my hands. I'm knocking on wood to make sure it never comes to this.

Rambling on with Down Feathers at My Back

I've wanted to make some throw pillows since last Spring when our new family room furniture arrived, but the project was low on my list of things that needed to be done. Even though I wanted to create the pillows, every two months or so, I'd consider buying them from Pottery Barn, just to end the pillow war, but my gosh, throw pillows are over priced.

I broke down and bought a Christmas pillow at Target and when I went to pack it away before the end of the year, Kevin groaned. He rolled his eyes when I bought the pillow, but losing it was now sad. As if we were going to keep out a red pillow with a snowman year round. It was time to act. I'd bought two pillow inserts at Ikea a few months along, in a feeble attempt to push the project along, so with only hours left in the year, I made a simple, striped, quilted pillowcase.

Ka-POW 2011!

But it was only one pillow, which became fought over during the next two days, so with one insert left, the ironing board still out, and sewing machine uncovered, I made a second one. The second pillow was mostly an idea of bunting and some guess work, but I love it even more.

My goal was to make the pillows in 2012, and since that's done, I can ride out the rest of the year.

That third pillow is still needed and maybe even a fourth for another spot, plus I do want to make a log cabin pillow, which means I'll be racing to beat the clock in a little under 12 months from now.

I made a point of having some quiet time to plan out some goals for 2012. Normally, I need shorter term goals, but I recently came across a list of goals for 2011 set during a planning meeting with Kevin. It was a meeting that felt like a delinquent student being ordered to see the school counselor to talk about the future, but still, we accomplished every goal, except one, which is being rolled into our remodel, and technically one other was missed, but I have no idea what it means, so maybe we did accomplish it.

With my accomplishment high, I made a new list. A list I've already managed to misplace (this is what I get for using paper from a tiny notepad nabbed from a hotel), but like last year, hopefully when I do find it, much of the stuff is ready to be crossed off. My word for the year is strive. Strive to do better, be better, and achieve my goals (the ones I can remember).

The gym yesterday so full there was only one treadmill open when I arrived. A lot of older people were there, which was a huge boost to my self-esteem because I was going much faster than them (yes, everything is a competition to me. We may be on a treadmill, but we are still racing), but one very little, very old man in a mint green polo shirt had me worried as he was going 1.2 mph while standing at a 45 degree angle. He was holding on the the handles for dear life, but I was so afraid he was going to fall on his face because his feet were so far behind him.

Here's where I was going: my trainer told me a man had a heart attack there the day before, when the gym was packed full of New Years resolution people trying to undue weeks, months, years of neglect in a few days. CPR was performed on the pulse-less man and he was saved, but it was a lesson in prolonged perseverance. Things or situations rarely do a 180 overnight, they are more likely to change over time through work. I've been preaching the benefits of hard work to my kids for some time. Neither buys it - sometimes I don't want to either - but I hope that by plugging away each day, striving to be better, that not only will good things happen, but my kids will learn the same. Because I'm tired of being the guidance counselor calling the eye rolling delinquents into my office for a planning meeting.

Cell Phones, Ollies, and Diego

I had the unfortunate experience of having to attend two funerals within a week. Here is what I learned from being surrounded many older people: they have cell phones; they turn up the volume on their cell phones so they can hear the ringer; they do not turn off cell phones or ringers, even in churches; when their cell phones ring in church, they either can't hear their cranked up ring or they believe that if they ignore it, it will end. Two funerals, three cell phones ringing, all belonging to old people. Not one was answered.

In other news, determined by what's on my iPhone:


My kids started skateboard camp. First, it was only Rocket, but when Clover saw his cute new skateboard, she developed a desire to ollie. This is the girl who is still scared of ice skating and bikes over 12 inches high, but we sighed, told her she'd have to stand on the skateboard not lie down, then forked over the money to add her to camp. Giant surprise: she loves it. She's no threat to Tony Hawk, but she's conquered a fear, which is especially awesome considering she is the only girl in a camp full of boys.

Kevin and I spent the day in San Francisco this weekend, walking around the Mission, stopping at Renegade Craft Fair, and loading up on pirate supplies. It was awesome.

Now I am experiencing the joy of listening to a nine year old dissect the intellectual gaps in Go Diego, Go! Clover: This is obvious! Duh! Did they have too little money for special effects? This is horrible! Obviously ice is slippery! Those bobos aren't really sorry, they just said they were sorry. First the blanket was on the llama's neck, then on her back, then on her neck. A llama can't move her own blanket, so how did it move? Are we supposed to believe this is magic? This is weird and stupid. Rocket (to everything said by his sister): Yeah! Oh holiday vacation, you test my patience.

It's Not Too Early for Warm, Holiday Comforts

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People started complaining right after Halloween when Starbucks began using their red and white holiday cups, but I was thrilled. I love all of the minute festive touches to the holiday season, and - this is embarrassing - but I get sad when the normal, white and green coffee cups come back into circulation on Dec. 26. I make drink size decisions based on which size still has holiday cups left because I hate letting go. While most people complain that holiday decor goes up and on sale too early, my concern is that the holidays will pass before I had a chance to enjoy them.

I started to feel like the holidays were passing too soon on Nov. 2. November 2! This is crazy talk! But I know how our schdule turns from busy to crazy busy, and even on Christmas Eve, we're frantically putting things together or ironing napkins, and suddenly, it's Dec. 26 and our tree is shedding and Starbucks is back to white cups.

When I started my November freak out, I stopped to ask myself how I can change things. I take comfort in the small things, means taking time to notice them. This means saying no to extra activities to preserve family time and maintain traditions. It means movie nights in front of our tree, holiday-themed Lego, spending time with family, watching football with hot chocolate.

I decorate for all of the major holidays because it's fun for the kids, but it helps us all take on a festive mood. Our Thanksgiving decorations are going up today, which doesn't take long because finding Thanksgiving decor beyond cornucopias is no easy task. We've got some turkeys and some pilgrims, dried corn and gourds, and the smallest touch that the kids love the most: holiday plates. Each year, I bring out the same melamine Thanksgiving plates for the kids, just like Christmas has its plates, as do Valentine's Day and Halloween, but for the kids, they never get old.

Fall has finally shown up, which means the throw blankets and pillows have reappeared because relaxing on the couch is really the best place to enjoy the holidays, especially with warm coffee in a red and white cup.

Comfort is the perfect gift for everyone on your holiday gift list, so be sure to take advantage of Tempur-Pedic's Buy 2, get 1 free pillow offer! I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective.

Hating on the Internets

I don't avoid the internet on vacation, only when we camp and that's because there is zero reception. Even then, I still check a few times, just to be sure the clouds haven't shifted, allowing brief online access.

Something happened on Sunday that made me think differently, which is that the internet is full of idiots who piss me off. Not you. Definitely not you. I woke up, snuggled with the kids, then checked Facebook, which is when the day went south. Two things annoyed me so much I couldn't let go, so I walked away. Well, first I walked over to Kevin so I could rant about the whole thing, but then I really did physically move on almost entirely. I had to send an email, do some banking, then check the football scores while out at a party, but other than that, I didn't go online for the rest of the day. No surprise, I got all self righteous at night as I crowed about going nearly internet free for the day. Look at me, I'm almost Amish!

I didn't even check my beloved Pinterest. When I finally checked it for the first time last night, it was a downer. Has Pinterest reached the saturation point where all the unique stuff has been posted, now it's just Bible quotes and stuff people already know? There was a recipe for a Shirley Temple that consisted of mixing 7Up with bottled grenadine. That is basic shit, people. Someone actually wrote a post about their highly researched find (no joke, the author said she did a lot of research and testing before finding the miraculous mixture), a ton of people commented with kudos, and then some people pinned it. Not one person of sound mind said, 'No duh!" It's a recipe bartenders can make in three seconds flat with their eyes closed. This is a drink that five year old girls can make when they want to look fancy at a cocktail party. I know from experience as the five year old girl.

Maybe it's the false portrayals many people hide behind on Facebook that bother me more. People boasting about this or that, yet never explaining the change in their relationship status or the sudden drop of an employer, even though he or she hyped the shit out of that job a few months ago. Please stop hiding behind the fact that your kid only eats organic fruit so rare and unique that name is unpronounceable. No one is perfect, not you, not me, so stop trying to pretend. Go ahead and tell the world that your child scored the winning goal. That's awesome. But if the goal was during a pick up game at juvenile hall, you may want to clarify things.

Also annoying are the people thinking it's cute to be vague. Don't say something, then ignore the questions that follow. If you put something out there, of course people want to know what is going on, you brought it up.

Then there is the overuse of epic or the return of not, as in "I loved getting a parking ticket. Not!" Let it go.

Let it epically go.

How to Pick the Right Holiday Card

Christmas lights have gone on display at my local big box store, making the holiday season fair game. It's always out there early and people complain, but that doesn't stop the hordes from buying gifts or thinking about holiday menus. This is clear by the amount of holiday-related content on Pinterest, making it pretty much a scientific fact that we like to get a jump on the holidays. People don't want to zoom past the Fall, but they're eager to look ahead to the fun to come too. This is my favorite time of year. I love the change from hot to cool weather (yet to happen here), the crispness of the cool air (also, coming soon?), the smell of fireplaces in the distance, and knowing that the big three - Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas - are soon to come. It's no coincidence that my photographer friends have been booked for weeks as families pose for the perfect photo to adorn their holiday cards. 

Some people (my husband used to be one of them) think of a holiday card as just that, a card, a social obligation, but they are really little works of art that reflect you. Roll your eyes all you want. I'm not saying your family is a brand and you are the marketing exec in charge of the account...but you kinda are.

How to Pick the Card Size Right for You

First, go through your photos for the year and pick out favorites and the ones that best define your year. Everyone loves to see a photo, unless it comes from a certain relative of mine who uses pictures from about 10 years ago before old age kicked in. To that person I say: we are all on to you! For the rest of us, sometimes that means a crying, full freak out tantrum picture. These don't have to be color coordinated, perfect smile goodness. Natural photos are always best, and everyone will appreciate your inclusion of less than J.Crew catalog perfect photos. I am toying with the idea of using a photo of my kids' dirty feet after they return home from school, but it may be more frightening than entertaining. Last year I included a photo of my son standing next to a bathtub full of gum balls with a look in his eyes that says everything he was thinking. The problem was that his hair got somehow parted in front, making him look something like this:

I'm glad I got over the bangs and went with the emotion of the photo. It worked well in the card.

Next, trim down the list. Pick the best of the best. Do they reflect what you want to communicate? Are they high enough quality for printing? Do any necessary editing or cropping. Once you have your picture or pictures, it's finally the fun part.

If you have one photo that you love more than all others, or if you have a cohesive theme, go with a flat card. This isn't a low quality, one-sided photo card that gets dinged up in the mail. The Tiny Prints flat cards are beautiful. I expect that as my kids get older and less inclined to let me take their photos (bribes only go so far), we may use a flat card instead. The flat cards have a lot going for them, including price and ease of display.

If you have a few photos and you like the feel and look of a traditional folded card, go for it. They have tons of personality, they provide plenty of room inside for a note, and they stand up on their own, which is how people display their holiday cards. Many of Tiny Print's flat cards can be ordered as folded cards as well, so don't worry about falling in love with a design for fear that you can't use it.

 

If you have multiple photos, especially multiple large photos, and if you want to show off some great picks, or create something unique, the tri-fold is the winner.

I couldn't find one picture that said everything I wanted in a holiday card last year. I wanted to tell the story of the year, through pictures and text, but I couldn't with a standard one or two photo card. Then I fell in love with Tiny Print's tri-fold. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was the right card for me. I put in a lot of photos - 12 in all - plus text reporting what the kids were up to, what we did as a family, and ending with well wishes for the season. Nearly a year later, I still love that card. My mom would call asking me to send one to this or that friend, one of whom kept it on her refrigerator beyond the holidays despite the fact that I haven't seen her in over 15 years and she's never met my kids. A friend of mine contacted me after receiving the card to say that she felt she caught up with us through the card, which was exactly my intent.

I've picked out some favorite tri-folds for this year, although many of these work best for a few, larger photos. Since I may have a high number of smaller photos, I may go with one of these. After I go through the past few months of my photos to pick out ones that represent the year, then I'll know which card to pick. Last year I fell in love with a tri-fold featuring a few bigger photos, but when I plugged my pictures in, it didn't work. I ended up changing to a different card and photo layout that worked beautifully. Even though I'd ruled the card out before, once I got my pictures in, the colors matched so well that they looked specifically tailored for each other.

Kevin said he knew I'd never be able to go back to a standard card again, but that's not true because I love the beautiful simplicity of flat cards just as much. My biggest problem is that I'm indecisive.

Disclosure: Tiny Prints is giving me 50 free cards in exchange for my holiday card review. I've been a huge fan of Tiny Prints for years, well before I was ever given a free card. Tiny Prints quality is high and their customer service is top notch. I am a paying Tiny Prints customer outside of the free holiday cards.

Baking with Love: Peanut Butter Pie

I'm home alone for the first time in forever. Between a work trip/vacation with the family and camping with the kids, I feel like the kids have been attached to me for weeks without a break. I would say, "like leeches," but it felt more oppressive. After they left for my parents' house today, I really wanted to jump into bed and watch crap television for the afternoon, even though I should have been working. Instead, I did something altogether different: I made a creamy peanut butter pie.

A fellow Yahoo! Motherboard member lost her husband suddenly on Sunday, and today, the day of his memorial, she asked that people make his favorite pie and share it with their loved ones. My kids would have flipped out to see me make the pie. I only buy Oreos once a year, for our Christmas cheesecake, so this would have been a great surprise. The person who would appreciate a peanut butter pie the most is my dad, but he has my kids right now, and I can't invite him over, for fear he'd bring the little monsters back with him. The pie is for Kevin. At least the thought behind the pie is for Kevin. He's anti-sugar, so while he may try a little to be kind, there will certainly be enough left to save for the kids and my dad.

Most wives fear exactly what Jennifer is going through right now. I grew up with Sicilian superstitions and Catholic fear, so I worry all the time that something will happen to Kevin or the kids. The pie represents love, caring, and nourishment (even if sweetened condensed milk on top of an Oreo crust isn't remotely healthy), all things that I hope I provide for my family. Rocket dreams that he and I will one day open a bakery called Baking with Love, something he brings up periodically, usually when I'm feeding him. He makes plans, tinkers with a proposed menu (lemonade and cupcakes!), and he makes me happy because - back to being part Italian - he gets the love that comes with a homemade meal.

Earlier this year, I started making connections, finally seeing how so many aspects of my life overlapped. My kids go to the hippie school, which is very much about learning through hands-on work, while strengthening the person at the same time, and allowing people to be themselves. No surprise, I saw many of these people at the Maker Faire, which I attended for work. Part of that including writing about it for a camp that I work for, that stresses hands-on learning, teamwork, trying different things, pushing boundaries, and embracing failure as a learning experience. There is no surprise that all of this overlaps - on some level I sought this all out - yet it surprised me in the moment when it first clicked.

This month has been filled with the same overlap. I spent BlogHer with some of the most amazing people I know, a few who truly feel like sisters, and at the same time, the greatest lessons during the conference were about life. It is necessary to laugh so hard you cannot breathe and you almost pee your pants, even if that happens in a pedicab during a ride where you fear for your life in the middle of an intersection, or maybe that comes at Disneyland on the Tower of Terror, as you squeeze your daughter's hand tightly while airborne, laughing so hard and feeling so out of control as the ride lifts and drops that you give up and just go with the moment. Prior to the conference, I was lucky enough to hear Gretchen Rubin talk about happiness, and even though I've read - and loved - her book, her talk was filled with more great things. It was a reminder that when my son jumps around and practically bounces instead of walking, he is being playful, and rather than telling him to settle down or walk with me when we're out, I should embrace this and certainly not try to squash it, which is what I'd been doing unintentionally. After Gretchen, I heard Penny De Los Santos talk about food photography, people, culture, and her work with such passion that I started to cry. Photography is about finding new eyes and seeing the minutiae, and so is life.

The day after our return, we headed out to our annual Moms and Kids Camping Trip that began five summers ago when Clover was in preschool. We don't see each other much as a group during the year, but when we come together, we pick up right where we left off. I hate camping, but I love these people. They are the kind of friends where when I say, "I know I'm high maintenance," the response isn't a reassuring, "No, you're not!" but rather an immediate, "At least you can admit it." They're honest (it's meant in a supportive way), supportive, funny, and best of all, they put up with me, even though I can be a baby out there at the campsite.

The last few weeks have left me tired and ready for quiet time at home, but they've reminded me how lucky I am to have found my tribe. This is a metaphorical creamy peanut butter pie for all of you. Thank you.