The whole POINT of going to the Eastern States Exposition (known as The Big E) was so I could get a picture of E standing next a sign that said “The Big E”. And although I took 114 pictures of various others things and people somehow I did not take that picture, despite spending 6 hours and a good portion of my sanity wandering around looking at cows and fried things and Fair People.

Fair People makes me think of Bill Engvall’s stand up bit about the fair. Which is why I took this picture:

Sorry, that’s probably only funny to E and me. We’re dorks. And maybe rednecks.

Even though I didn’t get a picture of E next to the sign, I did get a ton of other pictures. There was food…

That's the face of a child getting a major brain freeze from my strawberry-lemonade slurpie.

And animals…

That's one of the Budweiser Clydesdales getting a foot rub.

All that WOOL! I could knit so much stuff! And Baby Evan liked petting them too.

And plenty of things to buy and touch and look at…

That unicorn in the upper left is part of the Massachusetts building. Apparently they have unicorns there. Or maybe they USED to have unicorns, until the pilgrims ate them all at the first Thanksgiving and everyone got gay married. I was never very good at history.

That was some sort of crazy skateboarding themed fun house on the midway. I just like the picture because Baby Evan's wearing his rock'n'roll shirt.

Not pictured: Framed poster of the Jersey Shore cast dude in a tank top was carrying around. I guess that’s what counts as a “prize” from the ring toss game these days. Hand on my heart, that’s 10000% true.

It was a very fun, very busy, very long day. We planned to stay until about 1:30 and ended up hanging around until 4 to meet some friends. My feet were SCREAMING and my horrible pelvic pain threw my left hip out of joint. I ended up half limping, half waddling, clinging to the stroller and breathing like I just finished a marathon. It was dead sexy. And despite my huge pregnant belly, the people who had claimed the very few benches showed absolutely no interest in letting me sit down for even a minute.

So I took a little rest in the grass. At least SOMEONE got a seat.

And just so you know, I TOTALLY resisted having this done:

But it was really really hard.

Maybe I’m a little more redneck than I thought.

I’m still here in Minnesota, but that’s not going to stop me from posting eight zillion thoughts about my experience so far. I should be sleeping – tired pregnant woman is TIRED – but the hotel room alarm clock is possessed. It must be auto-set to go off at 6:30 (maybe all the tall, hardy Scandinavians in Minnesota get up and to group stretches or something before going off to milk the cows and dazzle people with their straight, white teeth) and once it started beeping it refused to turn off. I pushed every button on the clock and all I managed to do is anger it into beeping louder and louder and LOUDER as I started franticly scrambling to find the switch and oh no I’m going to wake up the whole hotel with this alarm where is the frackin off switch ok FINE I’ll just pull out the battery! Crap, where’s the battery??? Wait, there IS no battery!!!

I think my in ability to master an alarm clock cements my total failure as a functioning human being out in public. Add it to my giant swollen feet and ankles (because why WOULDN’T I wear high heels for 12 hours when traveling?), the extreme case of inner thigh rub that’s threatening to spread all the way down to my calves (note to self: PANTS. LEGGINGS. SPANX. All good things), and the sweatiest palms in the history of the world and I should just be locked in my house forever. At least there I don’t get hand sweat all over The Pioneer Woman.

Even with my epic failure as a Professional Grown Up Business Type Person I am having a fantastic time. Everyone is SO SO SO nice and even the busiest most important organizers and authors and bloggers will stop and talk to you. They WANT to talk to you. And then they ask for your business card and you die dead right on the floor.

Now I have to go take a shower and stuff my feet into my largest shoes and run a whole stick of antiperspirant on my hands and go down to the blogging panel (the ONLY place I really belong this weekend) and pretend I’m not still totally star struck and speechless at…everything.

Remember I’m boring everyone live in real time on Twitter. That is, if I don’t break my iPhone with the tropical rainforest I call my hands.

P.S. Ok, here’s one story I can’t wait to tell. Last night I was trying to take pictures of the speakers (MaryJane Butters and Amy Butler) but there was this head of red hair in all my shots. I was all JEEZ can’t I get one picture without that head in it? And then I realized that head was The Pioneer Woman.

THE DRESS FIT.

The End.

I know that was really all anyone wanted to hear about – especially my real life friends, since I don’t think I’ve talked about anything else for weeks. Of course, my fear of the dress not fitting didn’t stop me from stuffing my face enjoying the delicious rehearsal dinner or catered lunch at the salon. Pregnancy is equal to about four glasses of wine when it comes to helping you make good choices. Maybe that’s the REAL reason you aren’t supposed to drink while pregnant – you’re already just a few seconds away from doing something really stupid, no need to add alcohol.

I look like the Hulk next to those teeny tiny maids. HULK SMASH J CREW!!

It was a super awesome fun time. Half the guests were from England (as is the Groom), so cute accents and extremely high alcohol tolerances were plentiful. It’s probably good I was knocked up and unable to enjoy more than a sip of champagne, since “open bar” is a dangerous thing to offer someone having her very first date night in 17 months and who hasn’t even finished a glass of wine in more than 2 years.

Since it’s not my wedding and most of you don’t know who any of these people are, I’ll try to keep the pictures to a minimum. I’m also EXTREMELY disappointed I didn’t pass my camera off to anyone  – I don’t have a single head-on shot with my dress and hair and makeup done, and NO pictures of me and E together or me in the borrowed comfy-yet-still-super-classy black dress I changed into for the dancing and eating part of the reception. Unfortunately, I don’t think any of the people at my table (the official Friends From High School table) had cameras, so the chances of a good picture popping up on Facebook is pretty small. I also loved the bulk lace table runners they had to decorate while we had dinner together.

Here’s your free tip of the day: IF YOU LOOK NICE FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE GIVING BIRTH, GET LOTS OF PICTURES OF YOURSELF.

Every picture of myself I have – the two on the ends are cropped like 400% because they’re really of lots of people. But you don’t know them.

(As a sidenote, although I have hated almost every picture of myself for the past 6 years, I don’t mind these. Being pregnant is a pretty good excuse for a double chin and my arms look not as huge as they used to be.)

I did steal these from someone’s Facebook – just not someone I know. Despite all my complaining about the dress being TERRIBLE for pregnant people, they looked spectacular in the pictures.

I have a whole series of pictures from the “putting on the dress” portion of the afternoon. They’re hilarious.

Isn’t she gorgeous? Everything about the day was gorgeous. For anyone who’s also thinking of marrying someone in the nearest future, check out these titanium wedding bands for sale because they are just plain beautiful. Enough said. 

That is the official E Dancing Face. He was SO THRILLED to be dancing. I wish I could explain the dancing better, but you’ll just have to trust me when I say dancing is His Thing.

I also got to meet a reader (I will NOT say “fan”) who I didn’t know before – the bride was kind enough to send her a link when she was pregnant last year and for some crazy reason she’s kept reading. It was AWESOME, if only because I’d been doing my best not to talk about my kid for the past two days and suddenly here was someone who WANTED to talk about babies. Within seconds we were already discussing our struggles with breastfeeding and cloth diapers and labor preparations. I’ve never met someone I knew through blogging before (I know people who also blog but I don’t know them FROM their blogs, if that makes sense) but it really is like having an instant friend. So great to meet you Kim!

So, who wants to get married next? E and I definitely need another weekend like this one.

We came down to Northern Virginia this weekend for my friend Erin’s super awesome wedding. My parents got to watch Baby Evan during the rehearsal dinner AND the wedding and they did a fantastic job. No broken parts and they totally wore him out. He slept for 13 hours last night. I had to go in and poke him to check for signs of life. We’ve decided to come visit much more often – one baby-free date night every 17 months is NOT enough.

The wedding was absolutely gorgeous and the the reception was one of the best parties I’ve ever been to. If you haven’t had the pleasure of seeing E dance you wouldn’t understand why I love wedding receptions so much, but let me tell you – it is EPIC. The drinking made it even better, although he probably won’t be doing THAT again for a while – in his own words, he’s getting way to old for this s***.

Most of my photos are on the computer and I’m writing this from my phone (woot! iPhone shout out!) because we’re on our way in to DC for a few hours, but I will have TONS to share when we get home to CT. My dress totally fit and didn’t even look that bad, although I still changed into a super comfy maternity dress for the dancing and eating portion of the night. It was awesome. Congrats again to my two amazing friends!

Have a safe and wonderful Labor Day!

A hundred years ago, I knew how to relax (Charleston SC August 2006)

Can I say that ANY MORE CLEARLY??

All over the internet (and in real life) I hear moms say “I wish I got a day off” or “I could use a break” or “When do I get a sick day?” or “I can’t wait to go on that vacation”. But those statements are ALWAYS prefaced by this:

“I love my kid, but…”

Without fail.

Usually it’s a lot more than just “I love my kid” too. Sometimes it’s whole paragraphs and posts and speeches about how they are the luckiest women on the planet, with darling, adorable, well-behaved children, super awesome supportive husbands, perfect magazine-cover lives and great hair. They just…need a minute. Maybe two. And a cocktail.

I’m not saying I DON’T love my kid. I am just as guilty as everyone else of worrying people will think I’m a terrible mother if I want him to go away sometimes. He’s exhausting. It’s not so much that feeding and caring for one small child is incredibly strenuous – heck, you can pay a teenager to keep your kid alive for a few hours for less than minimum wage and most of them are happy to do it – but EVERY DAY ALL THE TIME NO STOPPING NO BREAKS will make you crazy.

For the record, here’s what happened when I got my break: There was absolutely no whining. I stayed out late. I called to check in and was happy to hear everything was fine. I was not a sobbing, teary mess at being separated from my kid for a couple days, although when I got back I was actually HAPPY to let him climb all over me instead of wanting to claw my skin off and hide under the covers. It was glorious.

And I’m going to do it again.

I’m not saying if you DO cry when you’re away from your baby there’s something wrong with you – it took me more that a year of NEVER being away from Baby Evan to get to the point where I could even consider leaving for a weekend. But there’s no “Saddest Mommy” medal being handed out to the person with the most tears and guilt. Let it go. Recharge. Have a cocktail. Get away.

TAKE A BREAK.

It might just make you a better mom.