OH RIGHT THAT.
I leave tomorrow. I am not packed. I am not caught up with any of my deadlines for later in the week. I am undeniably sick with a cold and woke up this morning to an Attack Of The Eyebrow Zits, Like WTF I Never Get Eyebrow Zits But IT SURE DOES FIGURE. I am currently calling my hair salon every hour on the hour to inquire about cancellations because my roots are visible from space and my color has faded to a drab strawberry blonde that does not look particularly good on me, although it sure does coordinate with the zits around my eyebrow.
Yesterday I spent -- no exaggeration -- five solid hours on the phone attempting to rectify an emergency posters situation for Friday night's legendary BlogHer/MamaPop Sparklecorn shindig, as in we had no posters because of a communication kerfluffle, and I needed to order so many posters that my online shopping cart was crashing AllPosters.com. That's a crapton of posters, you guys. So five hours, it took to manually order each and every poster over the phone. Five hours of qualifying to a sales rep named Allison that yeah, okay, yes, I am ordering ANOTHER Justin Beiber poster but it's meant IRONICALLY. Now give me every freaking Lady Gaga poster you have, post haste!
I actually felt a pang of sadness when I hung up, because I was really going to miss her.
Speaking of missing people...
He's not coming. He's just too little and the flight is just too long, and since I went back and forth and back and forth about my decision to take him or leave him or just stay home, work obligations be damned, I couldn't even coordinate with someone local to help me out on the flight, like I did the year I brought Ezra. My mom offered to come with me but flights hotel room money etc. blah. I am confident that breastfeeding is established enough that it will be okay once I return, and Jason is more than capable of keeping our children alive for a couple days on his own. So I am lugging my breast pump across the country for all of...oh, not even 48 hours, as I arrive tomorrow at five pm and will hop on the first plane out of Dodge on Saturday morning, probably while sobbing in a hormonal little puddle because my baaaaaaaaaybeeeee.
I actually don't want to talk about it anymore. It's obviously making my eyebrows break out.
(Also not talking about the possibility of missing Noah's first tooth falling out while I'm gone and Ezra...well, Ezra just doing everything awesome and hilarious that Ezra always does, BUT I WILL BE MISSING IT.)
Standard BlogHer spiel: If you see me, for the love of God please say hi, though be prepared to be hugged. I am really good with blog/commenter names and Twitter handles but kind of shitty with faces, so please don't think I'm an asshole if I squint at your attendee badge for a minute or two while my feeble hamsterbrain makes the connection. Or if I leak breastmilk on you. Though I promise to take every possibly precaution to prevent that from happening.
And Sparklecorn is Friday night at 9 pm, no RSVP required (HOORAY), so please come because it is going to be insanely awesome. DJ Skribble. Drinks. Dancing. A cake that will blow your mind. And free Justin Beiber posters at the end of the night, if you're lucky.