It's Supposed to Look Like This

My beautiful, incredible sister is getting married Saturday.

The wedding theme is vintage circus, which is very cool because my sister and her fiancé are both extremely creative people who love all things vintage, and with a huge guest list and a ton of DYI projects to complete, the wedding promises to truly be "The Greatest Show on Earth." It’s a really exciting time for our families.

The bridesmaids are wearing vintage attire, including 20’s headpieces.  Mine is supposed to look like this:

As the Maid of Honor (I’m married, but I refuse to be referred to as a matron of anything), I should have ordered this lovely headpiece months ago, but I put it off because I’m picky and forgetful, which is a really terrible combination. Now, I’ve backed myself in a corner and I’m forced to make the vintage headpiece myself.

There’s just one problem here. I am not crafty.

TBH (as the kids say): I hate crafts. When my kids were little and came home with turkeys made out of traced hands glued on popsicle sticks, I had to force myself to show appreciation before hiding them in keepsake bins under the bed. I was always the mom buying juice boxes while the other PTA moms were racing each other to the craft store to make pilgrims out of cotton balls and twine. When I see “Pinterest fails,” I don’t laugh because it hits just a little too close to home.

Last week I knew I was running out of time, so I ventured out to two of the most anxiety-provoking establishments known to non-crafty types: Jo-Ann Fabrics and Hobby Lobby. For me, the only thing worse is a trip to Pep Boys, so this was a rough mission indeed.

Stop #1 was Jo-Ann, where I set out to locate fuschia feathers, some kind of pearl/rhinestone embellishment, and a stretchy headband. I started by looking for an employee to ask for guidance, but stores don’t really have those anymore, so I grabbed a cart and began in the faux flower section and meandered through every aisle, grabbing anything that resembled a feather and tossing it into the cart while I groaned audibly and rolled my eyes at the overhead cameras. Like anyone would steal this stuff!

I learned a lot during that journey. Like, for example, there so many kinds of jewelry clasps in this world, they take up an entire aisle of real estate at Jo-Ann. I stood there dumbfounded, grabbing packages and inspecting them like Brendon Frazier in “Encino Man” when Pauly Shore introduces him to Sweet Tarts and Corn Nuts for the first time.

Overwhelmed, I followed the maze of monogrammed plastic drink cups and patriotic flip flops and made my way to the button aisle, hoping to find a vintage-looking buttony thing to glue on to the headband. The button aisle borders the area where people willingly look at pattern books. A customer was there, sitting in front of a 1987 desktop computer, talking on the phone. She was a sweet-faced woman wearing a sweatshirt with a bedazzled cross.

“I thought I’d add some lace to the bottom of it,” she said happily. Her cheeks were flushed with the excitement of the creative process. “Oh yes, honey, I’m at Jo-Ann. I’ll be here all morning!”

Fully unable to relate, I made my way to the check-out. A teenager in a smock stood by the only working register. She was talking to another smocked teen who was pretending to sweep the floor while they talked. I put my fuchsia feathers on the counter while I waited for her to greet me.

“I should have called in,” said the teenager at the register, talking to the teenager with the broom, ignoring me completely.

“You need Emergen-C,” said the teen with the broom while I stepped back and began holding my breath.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s strep,” she said, coughing into her hand, then using the same hand to swipe my feathers over the scanner. “I’ve had a fever for like, three days.”

I thought briefly about asking to speak with the manager - partly because the kid spent more time talking to her coworker than addressing her extremely reluctant customer, but mainly because she came to work with SARS and that’s just rude. But I was already weary, so I used my elbows to pick up the feathers, and while heading to the car, it dawned on me that one of those poor girls was more than likely the manager anyway. It was all so very sad.

Stop #2 was Hobby Lobby. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I swore after Hobby Lobby’s shenanigans about birth control that I would never set foot inside a Hobby Lobby again (not that I set foot in there many times anyway), but desperate times call for desperate measures.

As I approached the doors, I checked out the clientele going inside. Walking up on my right was another woman with a bedazzled cross on her chest. Par for the course. Walking up to my left? A woman with a Bernie Sanders t-shirt and a sheepish expression of guilt. That made me laugh. Knowing we were all in it together, I entered in, prepared for the worst.

Confession: I got momentarily wooed by a cheap imitation of an Eames molded plastic chair lurking in a display of cheap beach-themed home fashions. I was so distracted by it that I pulled it off of the display and gave it a test sit.

It was cozy, as cheap imitation Eames chairs go, so I began looking online for a coupon, seriously considering buying it when the store manager approached me.

“That chair is just SO cute, right?” she beamed. “We sell SO many of them.”

She was a nice woman, but her overdyed red hair and lipstick-smeared teeth jarred me out of my hypnosis. I put the chair back into the fake beach scene while she watched on. She sweetly pointed me in the direction of the stretchy headbands and feathers, and I grabbed up more supplies and headed for the checkout.

The median age of the cashiers working at Hobby Lobby that particular morning was around 93. For a company that has a moral objection to birth control, I found it deliciously ironic that the women working at Hobby Lobby haven’t needed birth control for at least five decades. Guilt-ridden from spending $6.17 at a store that I promised not to patronize (or, more fittingly, matronize), I headed home with two bags of craft supplies, fully spent.

I know you’re expecting pictures, because they promise to be hysterical, but I have not yet started working on the vintage headpiece because I prefer to procrastinate and write about the activity instead. Be warned; I may never post a picture, because I’ll more than likely end up looking like a retired prostitute, or worse yet, there’s serious concern that I will glue my fingers together with the E 6000 craft glue, and I may never write again.

Either way, I hope you wish me luck, because I’m definitely going to need it.

Does Anyone Disgusted by US Politics Actually Move to Canada?

(Originally published in the Huffington Post, Feb 11, 2016).

I'm dying to know how many of you are seriously going to move to Canada when someone you don't like becomes our next president.

Are you really moving to Canada?

Over the weekend, I had a lively conversation over adult beverages with a few friends who represent a variety of political affiliations. I was curious: Just how bad is life with Obama in office? In our particular group, nobody appeared to have anything terrible happening that they could attribute to Obama. In fact, life has been pretty great, even for my most conservative Republican friends. To that I offer up a sincerely non-sarcastic, "Thanks, Obama!"

Pressing further, I wanted to know how many people actually move to Canada when their candidate doesn't win. My smart Republican friend wagered that nobody does. I came home and began some research to find out.

Thanks to a recent article in The Guardian written by Jordan G Teicher, I learned that in 2004, a staggering 179,000 people visited Canada's official immigration website. 

So it's not just all talk, eh?

Not so fast. Teicher writes that of the 179,000 people dipping their toe in the water of packing up the chuckwagon and moving to Canada, only 9,000 people a year actually do it. In fact, that number has been consistent from 2005 to 2014, so there doesn't appear to be scientific evidence associating the Canadian migration to anything politically motivated.

As a Texan who found herself extremely involved in the political process when we tried to elect a badass senator by the name of Wendy Davis, I will admit that when she lost, I seriously thought about packing up the family and moving, at the very least to a state where my reproductive rights weren't being dictated by a bunch of sour-faced old white guys who think they have the right to dictate what women do with their hoo-has. Then election day came and went. I cried some sincere tears of disappointment, then -- to borrow one of my sister's best phrases from her childhood -- I powdered my nose and got on with life.

Still, I was interested in learning just how many people move when the "wrong" candidate wins. When I began my research, I simply Googled, "Moving to Canada." The following search suggestions came up:

Unsurprisingly, "Moving to Canada from the US" is the 2nd most popular search string. However, "Moving to Canada with guns" is just below moving there with pets. Canada, if you don't already know, US citizens love their Chiweenies, but they're also very, very fond of their guns, and they are going to expect that you welcome them with -- pardon the bad pun -- open arms.

I continued poking around trying to figure out what kind of people are seriously considering leaving and are willing to put it out there on social media. I searched "Moving to Canada" on Twitter. There are a LOT of people who are moving to Canada when Trump wins, and a LOT of people who are moving there when Hillary wins. Canadian real estate agents, start your engines:

Writer Ben Kuchera is going to be "real honest," he sometimes fantasizes about moving to Canada. Since he's also pretty fired up about Canadian ketchup chips, lets assume he's just being sarcastic. Aspiring model Mike Hammontree has 106 of his closest friends who support his desire to move north, so perhaps they can set up a GoFundMe to help cover the costs (and buy him a coat). LW is so excited about moving if Trump wins, she can't even capitalize or finish her statement! Peace out, LW!

As for me, I am certainly concerned about the election results. I'm being sincere when I tell you that if Ted Cruz wins, I'm going to gag audibly every day I have to see him on a tv screen. However, no matter the election outcome, I'm sticking around. I like this country, and I know that if I volunteer and stay involved in issues that I find important, I have the ability to drive some actual change here. If nothing else, I'm staying here for the chips and queso. No ketchup chips for me, thanks.

Follow Amy Arndt on Twitter: www.twitter.com/theamysituation

Capsule Wardrobe: Winter 2016

For 2016, I've chosen to continue to live a capsule wardrobe life. For me, it started in huge part to stumbling onto the blog Un-Fancy, significant online research and a Today Show segment about living a less chaotic life by decluttering.

Ask anyone who's taken the plunge and they will tell you: getting rid of things and simplifying is life-changing stuff.  The first time I took every item of clothing I owned and piled it all on the bed and made the decision to get rid of the vast majority of my wardrobe, I was exhilarated by the experience. I was also completely freaked out, so I went shopping the very same day. Making the commitment is a work in progress for sure.

If you've been living in a cave and haven't heard about capsule wardrobes (or you've been buried alive in your clothes), I highly recommend you check out Un-Fancy. Unfortunately the author of Un-Fancy is on hiatus, but her old posts are there and she does a terrific job of guiding you through the process.

Here's the basic idea:

1. Put everything you own on your bed. Every single item in your closet. Empty that beast and see what you own. Didn't realize you had four pairs of white jeans? I know! I was the same way!
2. Grab some garbage bags and start purging. Haven't worn it in a year? Out. Has a stain you can't conquer? Buh-bye. Think you're going to squeeze into it for the company holiday party? How about you donate that dress to someone who can wear it now, and if by Christmas, you've lost enough weight to wear that size, go treat yourself to something new. Problem solved.
3. Keep what you love, what fits, and what flatters you most. For me, I tried to get rid of crazy prints, because when I see people that I admire from a fashion perspective, they rarely wear crazy prints. For my capsule, I did my best to pair down to simple things in neutral colors. But I always keep a few colorful items because I can't commit to neutrals every single day.
4. Select the number of items you want in your capsule. I selected 42, the amount of years I'd been on the earth at the time I started my first capsule. Now, I'm sticking with that number. Do what works for you! Un-Fancy will help you with a wardrobe planner if you need some help. 

I've been at this for several seasons now, and I get a lot of questions about the experience. Here are the most common questions:

Did you really stop shopping? The first season, I really did a great job about avoiding shopping almost altogether. Last season I wasn't as disciplined. I didn't plan the transition from summer 2015 to fall 2015 very well, and with Texas weather, I added boots and sweaters to the mix way too early. 

The goal is to shop only during the first part of each new season, but I didn't do a very good job of that for the fall. Here's a list of stuff I purchased in December that I am rolling into my winter 2016 mix:

• A navy v-necked sweater
• A bright cherry red sweater (I've been missing a pop of color)
• A cream cable knit sweater
• A new oatmeal-colored cardigan (my favorite one finally died)
• A black and white sweater jacket
• A new black winter coat
• New brown flat tall boots
• New bright yellow suede heels (again, I needed color)
• Nixon tortoise shell watch (I don't count accessories, but it was a coveted item and I'm so glad I bought it)

Don't you feel bored wearing the same thing over and over? Not at all. What I love about going to my closet is that I'm not throwing 25 items over the chair because I hate the way they fit or they don't work with anything else. Now, I have just enough to mix and match, and when I want to spice something up, I have a drawer full of scarves and another drawer full of accessories. I don't restrict myself on scarves or jewelry or handbags - some people do. That said, I do stick to one main handbag per season and a small cross body for nights out.

What happens if you lose weight? We'll cross that bridge when it actually happens. Oprah and I are planning on making 2016 the year of our best bodies, but I'm also a realistic lady and I'm not expecting that I'll be a size 8 any time this year. For now, I'm not keeping a stockpile of clothes that are too small for me. Everything in my closet fits the body I have now. 

Are you saving money? My husband continues to snicker every time I order something online because I know he thinks I'm shopping more than I ever did before, but I'm actually saving all kinds of money. I am embarrassed to admit it, but I was shopping almost every weekend before I started doing a capsule. The big difference is that I'm no longer sneaking in bags and shoe boxes in the house when my husband's in the back yard. I shop so much less than I did before! 

I could never do a capsule because I love shopping too much. Do you miss shopping? I still have a 12 year-old who continues to grow like a weed, so I still get my shopping urges fulfilled pretty often. The difference is that I take some time to browse through the racks, and I look at all of the things I just don't need. It's the most freeing feeling not to have to pick up some random printed top and throw it in the cart at Nordstrom Rack just because I want something new to wear. Because you know what? Most of that stuff isn't well made and isn't even a deal because it won't last anyway. Now that I'm able to edit myself, I find myself wanting to edit other people. It's all I can do not to tap a woman on the shoulder and say, "Excuse me, ma'am. Your simple black sweater and jeans are so nice. Put that cheap yet overpriced Michael Kors printed blouse back. You're welcome!"

What did you get rid of this season? Today, I pulled open all of the suitcases in search of white jeans that I'd stored away when I first started this project because I keep seeing so many cute women wearing white jeans in the winter, but after I created my winter capsule, they didn't make the cut, so they went back into the suitcase again. If I don't wear them in the spring or summer, I'm donating them. This exercise ended up forcing me to look through everything that I had placed in storage and so I started editing again. I got rid of:

• A limey green dress I kept thinking I would wear again and probably only wore once. For one, the color looks terrible on me. Secondly, it was a thick material that resembled wallpaper. I tried it on, and I look like a lumpy bathroom wall in it. Goodbye!
• Navy knit pants that I bought because I thought with boots, they looked like riding pants but they ended up looking like leggings with a zipper. I'm sorry for anyone who saw me wearing them as I walked away. I'm really, really sorry.
• An animal print cardigan that I bought during one of my Nordstrom Rack binges. I kept wanting it to be chic, but it was a misshapen, sad mess. Once, I wore it with those navy riding pants. I'm sure my coworkers wondered if I was moonlighting as a circus trainer.
• A black tank with a hole in it, a navy t-shirt with a stain, and a sleeveless striped top I wore on the 4th of July that made me look like a gray and white barn. 

Are you going to keep it up? Absolutely. Everything I worried about when I started wearing a capsule wardrobe isn't anything to worry about at all. I worried that I would lose my sense of self. Didn't happen. I felt that I would tire of the same old stuff. Instead, when I have somewhere to go or need to pack for a trip, everything is so much easier. I worried that I would feel somehow deprived. Now, if I want it bad enough (like the Nixon tortoise shell watch), I wait until the next season and I buy it.

So, here you have it. A quick pic of my Winter 2015 closet, and below, a list of what made the cut this season (the rest is stored in suitcases on the sides of my tiny closet). We have a small house so it's still crowded-looking, but there's just enough room for 42 items, my hot dog purse, my coveted photo of a foot in a high heel, and my 2016 vision board. 

Winter 2016 Capsule Wardrobe: 42 Items

Tops/ sweaters:

1. White button up shirt

2. White dressy t-shirt

3. Black dressy embellished tank

4. Grey long sleeved t-shirt

5. Cherry red sweater

6. Fuchsia long-sleeved tunic top

7. Black short-sleeved dressy top

8. Black short-sleeved t-shirt with high neck (dressy enough for work)

9. Oatmeal cardigan

10. Cream cable sweater

12. Navy v-necked sweater

13. Printed t-shirt "Do What You Love"

14. Olive long-sleeved button up

15  Grey animal print crazy lady cape (It's whacky and I love it)

16. Black tunic-length tank

17. Grey tank

18. Black and white sweater jacket

Jackets:

19. Black dress coat

20. Olive sweater coat

21.  Army green military jacket (stolen from my sister, thank you very much!)

22  Furry vest

Pants:

23. Dark wash skinny jean

24. Casual boyfriend jean for weekends

25. Polished denim skinny jeans

26. Olive jeans

27. Black dress pants

Dresses/skirts

28. Black dressy dress for weddings and funerals

29. Gray knit 3/4 sleeve dress

30. Long black tank dress

31. Grey pencil skirt

Shoes:

32. Tall flat brown boots

33. Tall flat black boots

34. Black tall heeled boots

35. Brown suede heeled boots

36. Yellow suede heels

37. Black suede wedges

38. Animal print heels

39. Navy suede heels

40. Brown flats

41. Grey suede Vans (I'm going to try them again. I keep trying to make them work on the weekends but I'm not cool enough to pull them off)

42  Black pointy flats (what I end up wearing on weekends)

Let me know if you decide to try it yourself! 

Adios, 2015

New Year's Resolution #1: Write more in 2016!

For a million reasons, I neglected this blog in 2015, but I hope to revive it in 2016. I also hope to write more, to simplify, give/donate more things (I got rid of a LOT of things this year --it is truly life-changing), use my new Fitbit to motivate more movement and less sitting, spend less time on gadgets and more time with live experiences, to cook more, to stick with my capsule wardrobe, which I've really loved and am continuing to improve upon. I'll also continue my annual tradition of writing out ten resolutions with the goal of accomplishing the ones that make the most sense. It eases the pressure and helps me focus on what I want the next year to look like.

2015 was a doozie of a year. I left a job I loved to take on a new adventure of building a customer success team at a small start-up. It's been quite an adventure, and nothing at all like I thought it would be, which is all part of professional growth. I've been out of my comfort zone more than I could ever have imagined, including driving a 15 passenger van filled with international customers with extremely specific dietary needs and many, many questions. I co-authored a 50 page training manual in a matter of 48 hours due to unforeseen circumstances that were terribly stressful but I survived in one piece. With each challenge, it's been an opportunity to grow, and that's never a bad thing.

This year, I made some wonderful new friends and walked away from some toxic situations. I worked on being more direct (I still have work to do there, but every time I get out of my comfort zone and have a direct conversation, it has the most positive results).

I had to give up walking to work, so I bought a little golf cart. Okay, it's not a golf cart, but a small used convertible that I absolutely love. If you have to drive, it might as well be a fun time. I pump up my favorite songs and sing at the top of my lungs with the wind in my hair. I'm a firm believer that everyone should have a convertible at some point in their life!

In September, my husband's mother Eileen passed away. She was an incredible woman, the epitome of grace and class, feisty and whip-smart, and never afraid to tell it like it was. We miss her terribly but are so thankful for the time Tim and his siblings had to spend with their mother in her last days, and we're eternally grateful for the legacy she left to her grandchildren.

I lost two friends in two separate tragedies this year. Both men were far too young to leave us, and were such incredible influences to so many. I'm still shocked, saddened, and mainly angry that they're gone. It seems like a cliche to tell you to hug those you hold dearest, but you just really never know, so go ahead and hug away.

My kids are growing up so quickly that suddenly, I'm the shrimp of the group. I was as tall as I am now in 7th grade, and I always felt like a giant around my cute, petite girlfriends. Now that my 12 year-old daughter has passed me up, I'm wishing I'd grown a few more inches back when it was feasible, but since I'm freaked out by human growth hormones, I guess I'll have to live with what I have. I'm so thankful to have healthy, happy kids.

New Year's is my favorite holiday. Tonight, we'll do a repeat of our annual tradition of making fondue and vision boards. Here's a piece I did for the Huffington Post in 2014 about how we ring in the new year. This year, our usual group is expanding with the addition of some new significant others and beautiful baby Serena, my dear friend Candace's new baby. We will cherish these new memories.

How do you spend your New Year's Eve?

Smells Like One Direction

(Posted originally on The Huffington Post, 8/24/15)

As the mother of a daughter entering 7th grade, I've learned to pick my battles. When she begged me earlier in the summer to buy her a pair of high-waisted jean shorts, I caved, figuring that while converted mom jeans fashioned into shorts are pretty hideous, they're the superior alternative to the low-rise models that resemble underwear. To handle the music battle, when we're in the car, we alternate between my delightfully tasteful singer-songwriter playlist to that tortuous song about the guy who found himself a cheerleader. I even agreed to participate when my daughter urged me to join her in facing a full-length mirror as she offered me lessons on how to do a whip and a nae nae.

Lest you think I'm the kind of parent who can't say no, I absolutely know where to draw the line. I just choose to draw the line when the request is completely intolerable. For me, that was when my daughter began to relentlessly ask me to buy her a bottle of One Direction's perfume, "You and I."

The first time she asked, of course I thought it was a joke.

"What does it smell like, prepubescent boy sweat with a hint of vanilla?" I asked.

"Mom!" she said, groaning. "I'm serious!"

I had to investigate, so I found the One Direction perfume website, where I learned quite a bit about the boy band's passion for perfume. The mega boy band offers our girls far more than wispy vocals and almost-man buns; "You and I" is the third of their four signature scents. Four unique scents? These guys have been going at the perfume business since Harry Styles discovered his first underarm hair!

As all online research goes, I found myself falling down the rabbit hole of slick One Direction videos devoted to pimping out their perfume lines. The "You and I" video is a highly-produced Mission Impossible spoof where five "men" clad head-to-toe in black suits and masks lower themselves into a bank vault, where a bottle of "You and I" sits luringly on a pedestal, ripe for the stealing. There's a surprise ending that I dare not spoil. It's all very cheeky and totes adorbs.

On the "Behind the Scenes" video (which of course I also watched), 1D member Liam breaks the bottle during rehearsal. That clumsy Liam! The video shows the shattered bottle on the ground, and the director's sincere surprise that they only had one back-up bottle on set. Yet I couldn't help but notice that they edited out the segment where the boys and crew were hunched over retching from being trapped on set with an entire spilled bottle of "You and I."

So, because I refuse to take my daughter to Macy's to sample it, what exactly does the One Direction's signature scent smell like?

"Bright splashes of mango and refreshing grapefruit are combined with a heart of creamy osmanthus, exotic orchid and soft peony to offer a romantic signature that captures the peak of nature in bloom. Background notes of musk, indulgent praline and sandalwood blend to wrap the fragrance in smooth, seamless harmony."

Well, that certainly helps justify my decision to say no. I'm sorry, but no daughter of mine is waltzing out of the house smelling like an indulgent praline. And what the hell is creamy osmanthus? That sounds like a something you'd see on a list of symptoms of a STD.

I ventured over to the social media page to let one of One Direction's super fans give me the real deal:

"I love 1D fragrances because they smell literally like HEAVEN and that basically sums it up."

There's nothing like a user review from a tween who has like, literally been to heaven, returned, and compares that smell to a One Direction perfume. That kid has a mighty celestial olfactory system. Can you imagine what is going to happen to that girl when she finally smells Chanel?

For now, I'm just hoping my daughter's urgent pleas to literally smell like heaven will phase out as quickly as her acid washed high-waisted shorts (a mom can dream). Perhaps I should be glad she's not asking for the Luke Bryan Yankee Candle, or that Donald Trump hasn't come up with a presidential frontrunner perfume. Until this phase passes, I'll compromise by letting One Direction into my car, where the only thing they can stink up is 3 minutes of airtime, every other song.

BlogHer15 Highlights: the Best Crazy, Last-Minute Decision

The 11th Annual BlogHer Conference in New York was a trip of a lifetime. Because so many of you are such supportive and caring friends, you've asked me to share some about my experience. 

First, at the start of July, I made a difficult yet easy decision to resign from the company where I've worked for the past nearly four years. My expiration date had hit me in the face at an unexpected time, but I'm a decisive gal, so I did the necessary soul-searching and decided it was my time to leave. I'm eternally grateful for the growth I experienced while working there, and even more grateful for the relationships I was honored to create during that time. Plus, I now have my own personal sister city, San Francisco. 

After resigning, I desperately needed time to reset before starting my new job (which begins tomorrow!). I've been working pretty much non-stop since I was 18. It's baked into my DNA; I'm the daughter of two hardworking parents plus two hardworking stepparents. Since I'd been hoarding a lot of vacation time unintentionally, I used that time to take a few weeks for myself. Let me just say that the Europeans have it figured out; taking an extended break is exactly what the doctor ordered. 

I spent long days by the pool. I stayed up until 2 a.m. watching movies with my 12 year-old daughter. I read books. I woke up early and watched The Today Show in bed. I re-vamped my summer Capsule Wardrobe. I canoodled with Mr. Arndt. 

One day during this delicious hiatus, I came across a post from a writer named Jessica Lahey, who recently released her book, "The Gift of Failure." I came to know about Jessica through my contact at the New York Times Motherlode, and I find her ridiculously smart and inspiring. In the post, Jessica announced she would be signing copies of her book at BlogHer15. 

I knew very, very little about BlogHer. I knew even less about SheKnows. Yet, because I have wanted to meet Jessica since I was first introduced to her writing, I made a crazy decision to register and book travel plans. When else would I get this chance?

As a BlogHer Conference rookie, I set basic goals:

1. Meet Jessica Lahey.
2. Connect with anyone remotely related to The Today Show. (My dreams are simple: Write a book. Talk about that book on The Today Show. Observe a reader passing my book to another reader at the airport). 
3. Learn about WordPress. I bought a WordPress domain and special theme over 2 years ago, but I find it intimidating.
4. See Central Park for the first time.
5. Time permitting, get off property to eat calamari at Carmine's at Times Square.

BlogHer delivered. I was able to tackle everything on my list and then some. I intend on writing full posts about many of the things I experienced because it was truly life-changing. Until then, here's a list of key takeaways:

1. The most important thing I learned at BlogHer is that competition doesn't exist there. Every woman is valued. Every woman is beautiful, has worth, and has their own unique voice to share. If every woman there wants to start a blog or write a book, so be it! What a beautiful thing! I'm generally skeptical of big groups of women because I've been in situations where women are catty and competitive. Not the case at BlogHer. 

2. Two of the panelists for the keynotes, Gwyneth Paltrow and Christy Turlington, are beautiful on the outside not just because of amazing genes and good health, but because of their internal beauty. Also, I was delighted to see that they both have real foreheads that move. The older I get, the more I appreciate a moving forehead.

3. I learned so much about how white women are perceived by women of color, and how much work we white women have to do to support our friends in non-white communities. I had some powerful, enlightening, life-changing conversations that have helped shape new, important views. I developed a massive girl crush on Selma director Ava DuVernay, whose closing keynote made me want to jump up and do cartwheels, I felt so empowered. 

5. BlogHer can be overwhelming, but not because of crowds. The freebies are out of control! I had to buy a brand new suitcase just to schlep the freebies home (and I gave away a lot of it before I left). I want to talk more about this, and how I would like to see us reduce our need to have so many things while learning about wonderful new products. All of that stuff doesn't help me with my need to simplify in the least. Eek.

7. Jessica Lahey: get to know her writing and her philosophy on raising children. Jessica was not only superbly gracious, she greeted me with a hug, signed my book, and introduced me to two of the most fantastic women who gave me terrific advice about getting a book published, and advised me on my Today Show dreams. 

8. It feels so great to be 42 and be inspired by women of all ages. During one of the sessions on memoir writing by Brandi Bowles of Foundry Literary and Media, I noticed the woman in front of me was writing on a page, and I could see three exclamation marks on it. I love people who take handwritten notes! I snapped a picture because it inspired me so, and it represented so much enthusiasm and hope. Well, what do you know? The woman who wrote it is the lovely Hope Arcuri, a 19 year-old Duke student who writes Words of Hope Blog. Hope writes with such truth and has so much promise as a young writer. Go read her blog; I expect big things to happen from her. 

9. I also met a woman in my age bracket (but man, she doesn't look like it!) named Amy who writes the hilarious blog, "'A' My Name is Amy." I shared just enough time sitting on the floor talking to Amy to know that her kids and her readers are very lucky people indeed.

10. I overcame my paralyzing fear of public speaking by reading for an audience at the Listen to Your Mother Open Mic. There, on stage in front of a room of women, I read one of my blogs. Now I know why comedians get addicted to the work. To read something I wrote and to hear others laughing was a complete rush. To have women approach me later in the conference to compliment my work was a thrill I can't describe.

I'm forever thankful to the sponsors and the organizers of BlogHer15. The only thing keeping me from my sadness in it being over is the promise of another conference in 2016.

Go live your dreams, friends! It's all within reach -- you just have to want it.

Nursing the Sleepover Hangover

When your kid is invited to a sleepover, it's like a commercial for a Royal Caribbean cruise. The list of perks is so sexy, you'd be crazy to deny them. After minimal prep that includes begging your child for the very last time to please put down the hula hoop and pack an overnight bag while your husband makes a beeline for the garage to grab a musty sleeping bag, you're rewarded with the delightful benefits of an easy 14-16 hour break from reality. As you drop off your squealing kid to the kind, unwitting hosts, you leave waving and smiling, knowing in a matter of minutes you and your husband will bask in the glory of a table for two, not a trace of Crayons and pink lemonade in sight.

At home, you giddily unlock the parental control on Netflix for back-to-back episodes of Orange is the New Black. Your husband, warmed up by the full frontal nudity, pours you another glass of wine and offers you a back rub. Thank you, sleepovers!

You rise glowing and rested, noting that it's so quiet that you can imagine your life together as retired people. You take one look at your husband when you realize you're the retired people on the Viagra commercial. Your passion reignited, instead of sneaking in a muffled Saturday morning quickie before the kids wake up, you realize you have the green light to engage in unbridled passion reserved for hotels and Kardashians. You spend the rest of the morning drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, refreshed and ready to conquer the weekend.

Then you pick up your kid.

The happy, pumped-up ball of energy you dropped off last night has been replaced by a child you hardly recognize. The kid who hugged you tightly and thanked you endlessly for allowing you to spend a night away from home greets you with a blank stare that would frighten Putin. With effort, you manage to get your kid to thank the host for inviting them when you realize that the host is also greeting you with the same blank gaze. You are afraid. You scan the floor for wayward socks, grab the unfolded sleeping bag and haul ass to the SUV before things get ugly.

That's when it hits you. Your kid has a sleepover hangover.

You've been here before, but parental amnesia is part of the package, so naturally you didn't see it coming. It's a lot like your cousin Sal's wedding. Remember that lusty trifecta of wedding romance, an open bar and an 80's cover band? When you woke the next morning in an unfamiliar hotel room wearing Sal's cousin's bow tie and little else, turning back time wasn't exactly an option.

The most important thing to do when you guide your zombie-like child into the car is to minimize conversation, otherwise, someone is bound to say something regrettable. Don't bother asking the kid what time they went to sleep because you don't want to know the answer. The car ride home will likely lull your child back to sleep, so depending on their age and weight, you'll probably want to ask your husband to carry them inside. He'll be rejuvenated from your morning tryst, so he'll happily oblige.

Here's the easy part: sleepover hangovers are just like regular hangovers. It's all about rest and rehydration. Even better, unless the kid completely binged on pizza and Sour Patch Straws, it's unlikely that they'll spend the morning puking. Gently guide the kid into their bed or onto the couch, hydrate them with orange juice and feed them a super carby breakfast. Turn on cartoons, a fan and turn out the lights. I usually stick around to make sure the kid doesn't pass out in the middle of eating a toaster strudel, just to be safe.

Just like a regular hangover, you'll want to wake the kid every few hours and give them more liquids. Wash, rinse, repeat until the child looks like your child again, and only then should you inform them that they will never attend another sleepover again. At least not for a few more weekends.

(This appeared in the Huffington Post on July 10, 2015 in the "Parents" section)