No idea what I’m talking about?  Read this.

Hi, all! Thanks to the lovely Amber, New Yorker of Awesomeness, we now have a plan for the walk. Here are the deets:

Sunday, August 8th
We will meet in the Hilton NY hotel Starbucks at 8:15a for coffee and bagels sponsored by the ever wonderful ListPlanit, with additional thanks to April at SimplyOrganized,. (Did you need help organizing for BlogHer’10? ‘Cause this is where to do it. Also? Life.)

After we grab our caffeine and carbs for the adventure we’ll head out. The plan is to grab the subway nearby to ride across the river to Brooklyn and walk back into Manhattan. There’s a view on the ride over that is not to be missed. (Hint: Camera time) After we’re done, we’ll catch the subway back to the hotel.

A few hints and tips:

1. The bridge is not a long walk, but wear comfortable shoes. (A BlogHer’10 theme, no?)
2. It’s summer, especially in New York. Dress for heat and comfort.
3. Remember the hint up above? Right. CAMERA. Video, too!
4. Bring money for the subway.

Thanks to everyone who has “RSVPed” for this – it will be so fun completing a LifeList item with you all. If you haven’t already thrown your hat in the ring and want to join the party, leave me a comment below so we know about how many to expect.

If you want to follow along on Twitter before or during BlogHer’10, the hashtag for this will be #bridgewalk.

Can’t wait to see everyone in NYC!

Driving home from swimming lessons yesterday, we stop at a local fast food joint to pick up some hamburgers because, quite frankly, yesterday called for hamburgers.  Also? Cocktails.

Benjamin is wet and sitting on a towel in his booster carseat enjoying a French fry and regaling the car with his feats of swimming including the flinging of himself down the ever popular Pink Froggy Slide of Speed.  All of a sudden he pauses and announces, “Mommy!  I have to go potty!  Now.”

Are we anywhere near our house yet?  Nope.

Of course we’re  not.

We’re also not near anywhere I can drag a soaking wet toddler into to use the potty.

“Buddy, I need you to hold it. We’ll be home in 8 minutes.  Can you do that?”

“Yeth.”  [Also takes order literally and grabs his penis]

I ask Leah to stop talking so he (and I) can concentrate on the job at hand.  I’m fairly certain I drove about 254 mph to try to get home in time.  I was notified by a very stressed little boy in the back seat that, “I can’t hold it, Mommy…” no less than four times, but, by G-d, he did the best he could.

We turned on to our street and his whining kicked up 2 decibels so I decided it made no sense to deal with opening the garage door, unbuckling him, fumbling for keys, unlocking a door, running to a bathroom and pulling his pants down in the HOPES he’d make it.

I did what any logical mother would do in this situation.  Parked in the driveway, unbuckled him, picked him up and stuck him in the grass next to our house, pulled down that wet bathing suit and said, “GO!”

He looked a little confused.  “Mommy? I’ve never pishied in the grass befoa…”

“It’s okay, Buddy.  Go ahead.”

“Otay…”

That’s about when he became a four year old human sprinkler head – much to his delight and to Leah’s.

Now seriously, a four year old girl in this situation just doesn’t have this option.

Winner: Boys Team.

There are these days. 

There are these days where one word defines the entire day.   Some days it’s as simple as “simple” or “beach” or “win” or “end”.

Hashimoto’s.

There was no other word after that one today.

It just sat there.  In my head.  Like a g-ddamned stone.  Unmovable.

There were other words that floated around in conversation… 1 in 9 girls … highly treatable … periodic adjustments … possible fertility challenges … pregnancy monitoring… auto-immune disorders…

… no she won’t grow out of it.

Ok.

No.  Not okay.  Wait.  Two weeks ago I was stressing over letting her shave under her arms and the possibility of an early period.  Now it’s hypothyroidism, medication for the rest of her life and worries over growth and development.

And I know, I KNOW this is nothing.  In the scheme of things this is nothing.  My inbox full of CaringBridge email updates proves that to me every single day.

But still.  She’s my Swimmy.  She’s had the best summer of her young life.  She is fun and funny and spunky and, man, has she gotten to be cool lately. 

This doesn’t change any of that.  As a good friend said to me today, “This is just her hand to play.”

It’s just that I know what’s in the deck.

Sunday we had the family over for lunch to celebrate Benjamin’s 4^th birthday.  (4 Year Old post coming shortly, I promise.)

Without going into too much detail, about halfway into the party my mother-in-law began to feel “odd” and she was escorted to our bedroom to go lay down.  After a barrage of questions, the possibility of a mild or pending stroke was considered so everyone made the right decision and I called for an ambulance.  (No lights, no siren, no need to startle anyone or be the neighborhood topic of gossip.)

Everyone’s fine, just so you know. 

Later I heard a story that made me giggle and think.  I guess there was some concern that the ambulance and paramedics arriving might upset Leah or Benjamin and perhaps they should go upstairs.  My younger cousin just laughed and said, “No, I’m pretty sure Pam’s just going to talk ‘em through it.”

I laughed because she clearly knows my approach to things.  But I thought more about it because it never occurred to me to do anything differently.

On top of just being goofy, Leah is a ridiculously inquisitive and bright kid.  I’ve learned that given the right amount of well-explained information, it can really keep her from being upset and help her manage any sort of upcoming uncomfortable or even scary situation.  This was never more apparent than when her grandfather died.

Her grandmother wasn’t in any sort of distress and there wasn’t any gaping, bleeding injury or bodily fluids.  She was just resting on the bed being asked a gagillion questions.  Had I forseen any of that or, say, the use of paddles being used in a true, urgent emergency, I’d probably have made a different decision.

But in my head it was easy.  Here’s what she heard:

1. Remember the back board you saw at the pool for emergencies when people have to remain still or need help getting into an ambulance?  You’re about to see one – or something close to it.
2. If Gram got up she might feel weak or make things worse and we don’t want her to have to walk and maybe hurt herself.
3. The ambulance is going to come with the folks who know how to check her out and help give her a ride down to the hospital to get checked out even further.  (She knows the hospital because she helped volunteer when I worked in fundraising at this particular one.)
4. A stretcher is like a backboard that bends and has wheels. (She’d like to go for a ride on it.)
5. Daddy’s going to go down there too and hang out while the doctor examines her.

That was all.  (Benjamin just wanted a piece of his Thomas the Tank Engine cake.  RIGHT NOW.)  And she was fine.

As I think back on this, Leah was exposed to some valuable information and lessons.

• Don’t panic.  Getting overly upset keeps you from thinking clearly and asking good questions.
• Community helpers like firemen and ambulance paramedics are kind and nice and not at all scary – even if some of them are big as a house.
• There are members of your family that know a lot of things.  For not really being a doctor, her grandfather, Zayde, knows an awful lot and can do an awful lot – including taking someone’s blood pressure, medical history and assessing a situation. 
• Sometimes staying out of the way and sitting quietly is the best help you can give.

I’ve never treated Leah like she was a little girl in terms of keeping her from information.  I may present the information simplistically, but very, very rarely will I try to keep her out of a situation in which she is directly involved.  So far, so good.

Benjamin was too little and way too involved in his birthday experience to notice anything.  But, I do wonder if he will be like his sister in this way.  I don’t treat him any differently than I do Leah in this regard, but every child is different.

What about you?  Do you shield your kids from information right now or involve them in some way?

I am taking part in the 31 Days to Build a Better Blog Challenge.  This post is part of it.

For the first time in close to seven years Husband and I are going on vacation.  Alone.  No kids. 

NO KIDS.

(I think that deserved its own line and all caps.)

We have family here in town but it’s just really too much to ask any of them to keep these darling, precious offspring for any significant length of time so, thanks to the Internet, a friend GENEROUSLY shared the name of a babysitter she had used for overnight trips for her girls.

After a few emails and texts back and forth there were dates that worked, then didn’t work (insert heart attack HERE) and then others that worked better not realizing it caused havoc in other logistical areas (insert second heart attack HERE), but yes, finally, some dates were set.

Next up? Meet.  Tonight she will come over and sit with the kiddos while the grownups run away for a few hours to, I don’t know, sit in quiet?  Eat somewhere with no kids meal menu?  Stare at each other?

This morning it occurred to me that this person is going to be staying in my house and, huh, guess I ought to get some stuff straightened up around here.  We don’t live in squalor by any means, but, you know, there are some stacks.  In various places.  They’ve gotten kind of tall.

Somewhere along the way a dormant OCD gene kicked in and this is how I’ve prepared for her to not only come over tonight, but live in my house.

1. All laundry must be done, folded and put away. Or folded and put on closet floors for others to walk in and deal with. 
2. While putting away laundry in your drawers, realize there are way too many clothes you just never wear in them. Proceed to start cleaning out long unworn clothes from every drawer.  There are 27 drawers.  Including your underwear drawer.
3. Feel a great need to replace your bed linens.
4. Also paint your entire upstairs.
5. Make sure the kids’ rooms are clean. Walk into 9yr old girl’s room and realize “it’s clean enough”.
6. Realize this person will have to actually feed the kids.  Panic at the thought of menu planning for a week.
7. Realize Husband will have to do the grocery shopping before the trip because you’ll be in NYC at BlogHer 2010.  Hyperventilate.
8. Decide to have new file cabinet assembled TODAY so entire study and years of paperwork can be organized IMMEDIATELY.  Also finally hang pictures in study above file cabinet. 
9. Vaccum entire house.  Consider vacuuming the grass outside.
10. Wonder how long it would really take to landscape the backyard.
11. Remember that you are going on vacation for the first time in seven years. 
12. Giggle uncontrollably.

If we actually get out the door, to the airport and on that plane it will be a g-ddamned miracle.

Thanks to all of you who gave me feedback on what the hell it is I do here.  I think there is a difference between why and what I write and why you come here — and I wanted to understand that.  You helped me clarify some things in my own mind for that I am truly grateful.

For all the talk around the blogosphere these days about brand and mission and purpose and authenticity and marketing I’ve found that I don’t really always fit that model – and that’s okay.  This place is more of a discussion – sometimes it’s with you and sometimes it’s just with myself.  But this beginning task has helped me think through some focus for this outsidevoice of mine – and that’s a good thing no matter where this site ends up.

So here is my mission statement:

…When I close my eyes my life is a magazine editorial.  Styled for ease and elegance and a hint of audacious.  Full of information that makes you think and full of stories that make you laugh.  Like the type, things are pretty black and white around here.  Come join the table – bring a good argument, a great cocktail and an evening bag full of wicked and you’ll fit in just fine…  

I am taking part in the 31 Days to Build a Better Blog Challenge.  This is Day 1.

Because I am slightly insane, I recently signed up to work with the SITS girls and their partnership with ProBlogger to take the 31 Day Build a Better Blog challenge.  This site has taken some winding turns throughout the years and I thought this might be an interesting exercise to stretch my writing.

Not surprisingly, the first task in this program is to write an elevator pitch for your blog.  ‘Cause, you know, focus always helps.  I’ve been told.

But here’s the thing.  I have been playing around with this place for several years now and it’s full of my own stories, rants and utter ridiculousness.  I’m not sure I have perspective on what this place is or why you nice people continue to hang out here.  (Except you are smart and have exceptional taste.)

So, if it’s not too much trouble, would you mind answering that question? Why do you come here?  What is it that you find? 

I don’t think this place fits into any sort of “niche” category, but maybe I’m wrong.  If you had to describe this place, what words would you choose?

(Betcha didn’t come here for the homework, right?  I’ll make it up to you – promise)

Thanks, you guys.

The other night on Twitter I saw a comment that really kind of shocked me.  It had to do with someone making fun of all the discussions surrounding “What Should I Wear” or “What to Wear” to BlogHer ’10.  It would appear this person wanted to make a point about the “real” way to approach a conference and the “real” point of interacting.

It’s interesting to me that this person would think that just because you want to discuss fashion that you may have missed the point that conferences like BlogHer serve greater purposes like new connections, new friendships and tons of education.  As if discussing what you want to wear and being excited about getting a little dressed up or buying a new pair of shoes was all that defined you as a woman or an attendee.

I found it really sad that by making this comment it could deflate the enthusiasm of a newbie/first time attendee.  Where’s the Blogging with Integrity?  Where’s the support for others to come and join the fun and learn?  Exactly when did it become okay to limit the discussion on the internet to only what YOU find interesting or acceptable?  The internet’s big enough for all discussions – so back off the clothes, if you don’t mind, and consider for a moment a few things.

These are women – traveling to a conference who may or may not know a soul and want that extra shot of confidence from looking and feeling good.  LET THEM.  PROVIDE GUIDANCE.  HELP THEM OUT.  If you had a big job interview with a large organization you’d think about what you want to wear and make sure you’re outsides matches the confidence you have your abilities inside.  This is no different.  People want to dress appropriately – why is that so wrong to discuss?

These are also SMART women who know pretty clearly that two days of educational sessions and hours and hours of networking during fantastic experiences are not successfully executed solely on their wardrobe.  An uninteresting and narcissistic asshole with nothing to offer in Dolce & Gabbana pants is still an asshole.  We’re all old enough to know that by now.

And if you happened to have looked on the schedule for BlogHer you’ll notice there’s a fantastic ROYO session specifically for those of us who have an interest in fashion and blogging about it. 

So I’d ask you to give these women a break – and the benefit of the doubt while you’re at it.  For the hours and days and weeks and months of hard work of being a mom and wife and an employee and a daughter and a friend they put in, they are allowed to be excited about a great few days away to celebrate themselves and stretch their wings.  And if they want to get excited about what shoes go best with those wings – well more power to them.

I like food.  I won’t use the word “foodie” because I think it’s overused and now I don’t even know what that means anymore.  But I like food.  A lot.  I like eating it and reading about it and cooking it and thanks to all that is good and holy I can now WATCH food on TV almost 24 hours a day.

But more than that I respect food.  In its basic form it is nourishment and sustainment of life, but it is also the center of cultures, some of our earliest and most life-long memories, part of life cycle events, a character in our lives and often defines us.  (Gluten-free diet, anyone?) 

Because of all of this I just get disappointed at the FoodNetwork and many other networks that have lost sight of all of this.  I see these shows like “Man vs Food” and even parts of “Chefs vs City” that just kill me.  All these challenges to try to eat the most or swallow the hottest pepper ever – or, my most recent favorite, when Chefs vs City headed to New Orleans and had the chefs eat GRUBS in lieu of red beans and rice – a classic and celebrated staple from New Orleans as if that was a valid illustration of the lives and culture of New Orleanians.

JUST STOP IT.  Not only has this sort of gluttonous shock television jumped the shark, that shark has been cut into steaks, grilled and served with a jovial and bold red.

There is a show that, while very “reality genre” based, has completely elevated my respect for a certain food and that is Deadliest Catch.  Yes, the boats and the waves and the life and the danger are all compelling and slightly exploited for good television, but what these guys do is real and hard and deadly – all in the name of a catching a crab that I will dip into a clarified lemon-butter.

These guys choose that profession and accept that risk and they are paid handsomely for it.  But after seeing what it takes and who these guys are – I’ll never look at a crab the same way again.  And quite frankly before I eat one I mentally say thank you to the guys on those boats in the Bering Sea.  To them and the families who go without them and accept that risk right alongside them.

Gluttonous television (see: Nathan’s Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest) is clearly a first-world entertainment option – and I’m not going to apologize for prosperity (that’s for our liberal friends to do), but what I can’t take is prosperity coupled with the lack of respect for the food itself or the people it represents.

You wouldn’t do it with a Chateau Lafite, don’t do it with the Chimayo pepper.

The day before we dropped Leah off at camp we met some friends in Waco to swim and have some fun. Leah is roughly the same age as our friends’ kids and everyone enjoyed hanging out in the cool water in 100 degree central Texas heat.

While I was watching Leah swim I noticed as she lifted her arms up to try to do an underwater handstand (remember those? So fun) that there was HAIR under her armpits.

And then I died.

‘Cause, you know. She’s NINE. NIIIIIINE. I started to wonder if this pubescent phenomenon was happening, uh, elsewhere for her. (And NO I didn’t know already because she’s getting shy about being naked around people and I don’t go around asking her to show me her hoo-hah.)

So, I asked. And? Yes. A little.

And then I died again and looked at Husband who responded, “Woah, yeah, that’s all YOU. I’m in charge of That Boy and his penis.” Nice.

So what was I supposed to do? Leah had been wearing deodorant all school year because there had been a certain funk that was developing so I thought I had it covered. Now was I supposed to let her shave? At NINE?! And I was dropping her off for a month of sleepaway camp the next day?! Awesome.

I decided that I’d let it go, but talk to her counselors to tell them very specifically that if for ANY reason she became aware and self-conscious about it that they had my full permission to teach her to shave her underarms. Likewise if anyone else pointed it out – I certainly didn’t want her to be ridiculed for it. They said that girls at this age don’t usually notice those things, but just in case they understood and had a bag of razors for just such an occasion.

Yes, really.

I never really thought more about it until she came home and it was again apparent she was developing hair. Today I called the pediatrician just to ask if this is something we should be concerned about and he said he’d like for her to come in for some bloodwork to see if she does, indeed, have early onset puberty.

And then I died a third time.

I asked the nurse what this could mean and she said that there are ways, if it is the case, that this can be slowed down. I then asked if there is truly a reason to treat it besides the obvious reason of giving Leah giving her mother an aneurysm over this? And she didn’t really give me a good answer – just that looking at the bloodwork will tell us if there is a need to do anything.

Uh, huh.

So, back to the shaving. Leah’s in gymnastics camp which means lots of tank top leotards, sweat and arms flying every which way. What would you do? Would you let your NINE year old shave?

‘Cause I’m kinda at a loss. Which happens when you’re dead.