Don't pee in my bed! That's your what???

Oliver insisted on sleeping in a swim diaper last night, and I wondered if it would hold. At 6:10 this morning, he moved into bed with us, snuggled a bit and then said, "Mommy, what is this?" He patted the bed, and I said, "Oliver are you joking? It's the bed." "No, Mommy, this." I should have paid more attention to the mischievous smile curling the corners of his mouth.

Yep, you see where I'm headed: two large circles of tee-tee had migrated from his sopping diaper into our sheets and mattress (naturally this also means I'll be changing his bed today, in addition to mine; and a +2 for the to-do list).

"Oliver, it just stinks. Yuk."

"I think it smells awesome, like burned up hotdogs with ketchup on them."

All I could do was laugh, a sincere chortle tinged with a slight bit of resignation. Jack joined us in bed, mayhem ensued, Oliver unearthed a plastic bag of golf tees and balls from under our bed, tore the bag into small pieces which he tossed over us like faux snow, and all our pillows and sheets ended up on the floor. After an hour of increasing lunacy, T locked the boys out of the room at which point they started picking the lock with about 87 tees. We gave up, went downstairs and made a beeline to the coffee maker.

At this point, you might think, surely these parents will get a reprieve. Not so fast! On our counter I spied a Safety First rectal thermometer; you know, one of those made for babies. A vague sense of alarm entered my psyche as I asked someone to tell me why it was so casually in our kitchen.

Oliver: "Oh, that's my blaster!!"

Tom: "He's been playing with it for days."

Me: "Uh, that's been in his butt! Jack's too!"

Tom: "Oh, right!"

Oliver: "Hahahahahahahaha, I love my blaster, has it really been in my butt? Jack, it's been in my butt. It's been in your butt too!!! Hahahahaha."

Happy Monday all.

Re-entry

Last night, after leaving BlogHer '13, I headed back to DD and D's house for a quiet evening with them. Donna, author of the wonderful books, Landscape and Waiting for Bones (you should definitely buy and read both!!), had prepped all the fixings for Salads Niçoise, and Dirk, rabbit catcher, antique map seller, and many more (all very interesting), had ready two lovely bottles of wine. We had a spontaneous plating contest, and Donna won handily. It was all so very lovely; a leisurely night of thoughtful, good conversation with old friends just can't be beat.

Fast forward through the flight home today, and I was greeted at the airport by my sweet husband, eager and darling Jack, and a sleeping Ol. The boys had picked a huge bowl of tomatoes from our deck-based plants and what they didn't eat, they brought to me in this bowl. In addition to the attached note, I received three others plus a chopstick wand. Apparently, Oliver is now Hermione Granger, Jack is Harry Potter, and I am a sidekick. I love that Oliver only chooses to "be" and love women who are smart and strong. Hermione is an excellent addition to the Wonder Woman/Padmé Amidala/Princess Leia train.

The change in pace was expected but nonetheless a tad jarring. Man, do those little boys remind me of the Looney Toons Tasmanian Devil. There was nakedness, jumping, spell after spell, turning the easel into a three-dimensional robot, eating, more eating, spilling, attempts to core apples with large knives, and unceasing talking. We went to the market, finished the wine country puzzle, ate two dinners...And then I spied this:

"Boys, what is in Percy's crate?"

"Toilet paper, Mom, lots of it."

In an rabid desire to free the cardboard tubes from inside many rolls of toilet paper, they had unrolled the paper, shoved it (plus, apparently a number of other random objects like a Ziploc of corks, some discarded works of art) all into Percy's crate and then Duck-taped the rolls into "label makers." Don't ask, I don't know. Just after this episode, Tom asked for some toilet paper and, wait for it, there was no more in the house. Add that to the "I'm glad I wasn't here" list.

They are so precious though, and I loved snuggling with each, hearing their little voices, laughing at all their silliness. It was so incredibly good to get away, spend days straight with adults, operate on my own schedule, have uninterrupted time to consider what I'm doing and where I want to head. But it was also good to get home to my war-zone of a house, markers littering the floors, and more pieces of paper than you could possibly imagine with the word "butt" written on them.

Tom grilled salmon while I made our sides: tomatoes with young chevre and super-aged Balsamic; kale with cannellini, onion, herbs and shaved parmesan a la Deborah Madison. We sat on the deck enjoying a lovely night, and I started to settle back in.

Today was about three in one

When I went to kiss Jack goodbye before I left this morning, I peered into the hermit crab tank and gasped when I saw what looked like Darth Vader's helmetless head. You know when he takes his helmet off when he's dying at the end and his head is pasty white, bald, veiny and all-around not good-looking? Well, that's basically what appeared to be perched in the water bowl. I scurried in to kiss Tom and whispered that he might seriously examine the crab -ironically named Yoda- when he awoke; perhaps it needed a larger shell?As it turns out, Yoda had been dismembered -cannibalized for chrissakes- by his tank-mate and fellow crab, Max, and T had to dispose of his little claws which were scattered about. He has not informed Jack of this murder. I cannot tell you how grateful I feel not to have had to deal with that today.

Fast forward a bit, and I'm on the plane with an empty seat next to me. And then I was at the start of BlogHer '13's pre-conference day, Pathfinder. I heard a witty, candid interview with Maria Ross, brand-mastress (yes, I know mistress is the feminine, but that sounds so unsavory) extraordinaire, aneurysm survivor, feisty and funny Italiana who's written two books- one business, one post-aneurysm. Here she is with interviewer Lesley Pinckney.

Then it was time to head into our tracks -me, "your blog as a book proposal"- for the first break-out session with the terrifically knowledgeable, utterly approachable team of Melissa Ford and Hannah Kaminsky, both published authors and bloggers. Perhaps forty of us gathered in a small room lined with tables; I felt like a student again, and admittedly felt that small burst of enthusiasm I always feel when I'm wearing that hat. Computers and notebooks were placed at the ready, fingers and pens poised to take notes. And let me tell you, I took some.

The publishing-industrial complex, my term, is dense and pretty flipping scary. In about five minutes, I'd written down three sites I need to scour, advice on writing a query letter, the definition of a query letter, how to reach out to agents, yes, you need an agent, the differences (many) between agents and publishers. And like I said, that was in five minutes.

It was all extremely informative and helpful though, and I could not have enjoyed Melissa and Hannah more. Melissa's irreverent wit was totally engaging, and Hannah is a hell of a photographer in addition to having written FOUR vegan cookbooks while maintaining a beautiful blog.

Oh mon dieu, my little student hat slumped a little, became a bit bashful and intimidated, but then I went through the whole, "E, you are a strong writer with a lot to say, you're enthusiastic and willing to work hard, and gosh darn, people like you." Ok, not that last bit, but you get my drift.

Our lunch break came just at the most-needed moment -our heads spinning, our brains blaring holy shit!- and we headed down to meet up with different track Pathfinders. After a bit of chit-chat, during which time I met two great gals (A and C, I loved meeting you!), we heard from a panel led by Elisa Camahort (one of BlogHer's cofounders; I swear I'd love to work for BlogHer; everyone is smart, sassy, funny, and the signage at the conference is over-the-top awesome; I hate when enormous convention places aren't labeled with helpful directions) and featuring Bryant Terry, an author/chef/activist, and Nataly Kogan, founder and CEO of Happier, Inc. What is happiness? What does it mean to be happy? How do we feel good and do good? I enjoyed this discussion too.

And then back to the Cave o' Publishing for further information and pitch-writing. Suffice it to say that I did not successfully hone a thirty-second pitch, but I've always enjoyed homework so will look at this as thus.

At this juncture, I began to feel tired. Really tired. And so I did the smart thing, called it a good day and returned to my hotel. Because we booked this room using Tom's ridiculously good "status", I received a riDONKulous upgrade to a King Suite which is soo roomy and comfy and nice. The bathtub is a small pool, a fruit plate was waiting, a view of the Chicago skyline loomed. I feel both grateful and deserving of this treat of a room and am now snuggled in some bizarre cheetah-print robe looking forward to some shuteye asap.

I did realize that Frontera Grill was two blocks from my hotel so I scooted out for a prickly pear basil mojito, some snacks and a double flan. Solid.