As posts start to trickle in from around the blogosphere (god, I hate that word) about BlogHer – for those not in the know, big huge fancy blogging conference – this past weekend, I can’t help but be filled with a large dose of jealousy. I have a problem with envy. I’m working on it, but we live in a materialistic society and it seems like keeping up with the Joneses is a given.
I wanted to be there. Not because I wanted to network or “build my brand” (puke) but because in the past year, when I have felt so isolated and alone, I have made a lot of connections with other really cool women through the amazing power of the internet. I wanted to be able to go up to them and give them a hug. I wanted to tell AndreAnna in person that I spent most of the last months of my pregnancy while I was laid up with my bad ankle reading all of her old entries and wishing that I lived closer to her because, damn she was the kind of person I wanted as a friend. I wanted to tell The Bloggess that I almost snorted water from laughing at her posts. I wanted to have drinks with Cass and Rougie. I wanted to see Pocklock’s baby bump in person (is that weird). I wanted to meet new people.
And it was in New York. I have friends in New York. Lots of friends who I never get to see because travel is expensive and travel with a baby seems impossible.
But, as I have to constantly remind myself, things work out for the best. We had to move. I wasn’t comfortable leaving the baby because I spent zero time worrying about pumping and having stockpiled breastmilk and getting her used to a bottle with any sort of regularity. In reality, I probably would have spent the entire trip worrying and calling Brian every five seconds – or the opposite, not worrying and then feeling guilty about not worrying – and, therefore not enjoying myself.
Instead, I spent this weekend at home. In my pajamas. Hooked up to tinychat and connecting with a whole other group of cool chicks through the power of blogher@home. Lu and Jen hosted an awesome online party. I was introduced to the magic that is Kim (whose voice I could listen to all day long). We talked about inappropriate things and serious things. I laughed so loudly that I was afraid I was going to wake up the baby. I drank a large quantity (for me) of sweet tea bourbon and woke up seriously hungover. It was great, and while I still wish I had made it to NYC, this was almost better. When I was feeling shy and awkward, I could just read the chat and not join in instead of standing in a corner looking like an idiot. And, unless someone wants to pay for me to go to San Diego (or we can work a family vacation into it somehow), I probably won’t be going next year. And if so, you can bet I will be curled up in bed with a pitcher of booze and my laptop!