I’m going to New York City, and also, I’m a freaking fantastic mother.

It is that time of year when bloggers of all kinds, mostly women, but also lots of men, start packing their bags and preparing to descend on some fabulous city for a popular blogging conference, as well as days and nights filled with more than their fair share of merriment and crazy making.

There have been weeks of hype and talk and more than just a gentle buzz, but more like a gnashing, crunching, building roar of excitement from those who are attending. That building cacophony of anticipation has been filled with excitement, anticipation, nerves, joy, anxiety, what ifs and a general sense of OH YAY, I CAN’T WAIT.

I’m speaking at this conference.

Dude.

I’m speaking at this conference!

I didn’t really mention that here even one time in the past several months, did I? I’ve been kind of a horrible blogger so far as words and stories and explanations go, lately, haven’t I? (Kind of. Just kind of? Hah.)

I go hither and yon, ebb and flow, rise and fall, swell and shrink.

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I’m here, living and laughing and crying and spinning and twirling and facing my fears and sometimes hiding in corners from the dark I Know Not What.  But mostly I’ve been running until my body is covered in sweat, stealing bites of chocolate here and there and torturing myself with happiness of all kinds.

Life has been full of a little of everything and not so much of nothing.

Yes, I speak in poems! How unfair of me, eh? But my life kind of feels like a poem to me right now, and so that is what you get. Neener.

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BUT.DUDE.I’M.SPEAKING.AT.THIS.CONFERENCE.

(Yes, I’m excited.)

I’m honored to be part of a trio of photographers who will be presenting a Room of Your Own Session on how to take great photos with a DSLR or Point & Shoot. I’m delighted beyond words to be sharing this experience with Mishelle Lane (@secretagentmama) and Rachel Devine (@sesameellis). These are amazing women, talented women, women who make me laugh and teach me, inspire me, and lift me up. I have thoroughly enjoyed working with them to create this presentation, and I’m really looking forward to seeing them in person in New York at this conference. I hope that those who attend take away valuable ideas and learn some things they’ve been wanting to know.

I’m full to bursting with all that excitement and anticipation I mentioned above.

I’m about to jett off to New York City! You know, that fabulous place full of bustle and lights, that never sleeps, and has way more sights, sounds, tastes, smells, and experiences than any place should dare to be allowed.

With those thoughts swirling in my head, I take a deep breath and acknowledge the huge smile on my face. I’M GOING TO NYC TO PLAY AND WORK AND PARTY AND SPEAK AT A CONFERENCE AND BE A GROWNUP ALL BY MYSELF (WITH MY FRIENDS) FOR DAYS AND DAYS.

Squee?

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Leaving Braden for that long is one of those things that makes me both sigh with relief and twists my guts with agony.

I will love having the break from him! (I will miss him!)

I will love not being pestered and bossed around by a 3 Year Old.

I will love peeing without being yelled at or visited, eating without attending to others first, bathing only myself and sleeping without someone screaming in the night.

I will enjoy waking without someone ordering me to make their breakfast, or crying when it’s not perfect.

I will love no cleaning up toys, wiping the pee up from around the toilet, or being head butted in the face.

I will love not being screamed at or hearing NO NO NO all.day.long.

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I WILL MISS HIM.

But it’s all good. His Daddy will be spending days with him. Then two different trusted friends will take turns caring for him. He’s in great hands.

And hey, I’m a freaking good Mom. (If you laugh, I will cut you.) I’ve raised this kid well, given him a great foundation. He’s been loved and supported emotionally, physically, and spiritually his whole life.

I am firmly sure that I’ve taught him well and given him all the tools he needs to make it through several days without me and not have any troubles.

I have set a great example for him for years now, and I know that will shine through.

Oh, shut up. At least I’m not the one who just taught him to say, “When Mommy’s gone we’re going to cruise chicks!”

[before you get all "oh no she di'in't!" I didn't teach him to flip the bird. he was showing me a "boo-boo" he wanted me to kiss. I don't teach my kid to give people the finger. gah. we are way too busy free-basing and listening to hard core rap while we count the money the hookers bring in to spend time on foolish finger salutes....]

And with that, I’m out.

New York, I can’t wait to be in you, baby. Peace out, beeshes.

*****

And the townspeople were safe once more.

Braden is sick again and that means he’s coughing in that special way that toddlers have which makes you clench up and wait for the inevitable choking sound every.single.time.  Over and over again, I listen to him gag and gasp and make the phlegmy struggling sounds for breath that keep my blood pressure just a little higher than it really ought to be.

Last night he couldn’t sleep, and was pulling out one excuse after another to climb from his bed and yell down the stairs to us.  His pleas for us to turn the music on, then off again, to find his toy car, and to turn on the light were all mingled with whimpers and punctuated by cries and sometimes soft, tired moans.  Every request was just code for, “I need you, please come be with me, I’m feeling poorly and I just can’t be alone tonight.”  Mommy is the ultimate translator – all those words and words and words, but a Mommy can see right through them.  They pour off either side of the real request like oil parting and running this way and that on the surface of turbulent water.

But this night it was not just Mommy to the rescue.  Often Mommy has to be the one who answers the call, who throws her hair over her shoulder and dashes off, valiantly. Mommy is so often the one who is here, so Mommy plays the heroine.  But sometimes I get to fold my cape up for a beat.  I write my story, I speak from my point of view.  But he cuts through my view, too.

Daddy.

He listened to the translation of messages Mommy could hear floating down the stairs.  When Mommy came down after a visit with the little sleep fighter, he heard all the things she said about little boys who are  terribly unable to fall asleep because ohhh, they are just in need of togetherness and tender closeness.  Mommy, who was distraught because of deadlines and projects.  Mommy, who felt torn between work commitments and life priorities.

Daddy saw the worry and frustration on her tired face, and even though he had already done the bath routine and the bedtime routine, he smiled kindly, then set his face and stood up.  He dashed off to go sit with the unwitting mini-villian upstairs, who was really just a little boy making too much noise for his tiny, tired body, until he could be tricked (loved) into falling comfortably asleep.  He went in search of hugs and cuddles that would be stronger and more fierce than coughs and sneezes.

He answered the needs of the boy and the needs of the Mommy, all in a single bound.

I briefly saw his brightly colored cape flap at the corner of the stairwell right before he disappeared from view and I continued to tap at the keys, only momentarily wondering who that masked man was.

Yeah, that’s my horn you’re hearing.

Essss-cuse me while I toot it.  I’m going to have some of my content syndicated at Blogher in the next couple months (SQUEEE!) and today I have a post up over there – if you’re interested in showing me/my piece some love with a comment, you can see it by clicking: My Child Wouldn’t Nap: The Day I Learned Perspective.  (You know you want to “show my piece some love.”)

Okay, I have to put my horn down for a little while now. It’s throwing me off while I do this here booty shakin’ dance.

Time, Work, Need. It’s all relative.

John is gone and has been for weeks; he won’t be home still for some time. It’s okay. I miss him and Braden misses him, but the truth is that we’re used to him being away a lot. We have a rhythm we get into while he’s away.

Of course, after a while, Mommy gets a little cranky and somewhat tiredish. Braden and I do get along well. We have fun and I laugh even when he’s a turd. When he’s a brat, I am firm and I’m not afraid or unable to administer discipline. But it gets hard sometimes for me to reel in my anger when he’s really difficult, especially when I’m particularly, ahem, hormonal.

I’ve gotten to that point this week, and I’m needing some time for a break, a bit of quiet, and oh yeah, I have work to get done! I get frustrated at the lack of time for myself. I get Teh Selfish on me.

Today is rainy, again. Today is a bit colder again. He is annoyed that I am staying on the couch a lot this morning because my uterus is once again suffering for the sins of Eve (Hey, Eve, ya bitch, apples aren’t even THAT GOOD. I mean, I could understand if it had been friggin’ TIRAMISU or something, but really? Oh well.) and I’m Grumpy Tired.

He’s spending the morning running around the room throwing toys at me. He’s asking me to come outside. I’m being a jerk, telling him Mommy is too tired. We play ball while I sit on the couch. It’s fun, until I get hit in the titty. Then it’s hilarious. But painful. Ouch.

Naptime comes and I can tell he’s not ready; he’s too wound up. I let it slide for an extra thirty minutes. Then I pick him up and he whines. There are protests. I meet them with a favorite book and he slumps in my arms, tension flowing away, talking about Fluffy and Baron in excited anticipation.

We read and then the lights go out. We snuggle under a blankie and I rock as the lullaby CD plays in the background.

I wait for him to fall asleep so I can get some things done.

He is restless. He talks and I remind him that “naptime is quiet.” He whispers.

I wait for him to fall asleep because I really need to get some things done.

I close my eyes and rock, holding him close, feeling the tension in him as he moves around trying to find a position that feels sleepy, but it’s not coming to him.

I will never get things done!

I am frustrated. The minutes are stretching into forevers and I have work to get done. I want him to stop wasting my time. I want him to quit being annoying and just go to sleep.

I open my eyes and look down at his little face. His head is resting in the crook of my left arm and he is looking up at me. He is grinning to himself over jokes in his head. I feel annoyed because he does not look tired at all. I look at him with disdain. His eyes sparkle back at me. For a moment there is a new tension in his small body and then there is the undeniable sound of a toddler fart above the enchanting lullabies.

For a split second, we are frozen, eyes locked, our faces inches away from one another.

We both burst into laughter, giggling madly, still close to one another. He is delighted that I am laughing with him. I am defeated that he broke my quiet naptime stoicism, but in a pleasant way. The unexpected mirth feels good.

It falls quiet again. He is whispering to himself. He snuggles closer and traces the letters that stand out on my shirt. I close my eyes and rock as the lullabies keep drifting around us. His fingers fall on the hollow spot right at the bottom of my neck, tapping.

They become still and I open my eyes. He is looking up at me and suddenly his little palm rises from my chest and warmly rests on my cheek. He presses lightly and murmurs a cooing sound of “mmmmmms” that has always meant “i love you,” since before he could say words.

That feeling that comes right before an emotional sob rises in my chest, blurs behind my eyes.  There is love and regret and guilt. It recedes and I just look at him.

His little hand slowly drops back to my chest and curls there. I put my palm on his cheek – something that has always calmed him.

His eyes are heavy and his lashes flutter like butterflies that can’t find the courage to land.

They finally rest and I listen as his breaths grow deeper and longer.

He is asleep now.  I touch his soft chin with my finger, and I linger in the chair.

Suddenly there is no work and I lose track of time just staring at him.

I can’t think of a thing I really need to do right now.