I’M ONLY HALF-FULL OF MYSELF

So many things I want to tell you about, but I find it easier these days to hold my cards close to my heart. I can’t explain why. Maybe I’ll be able to break it down into bits and bites when I don’t feel so overwhelmed by just about everything around me.

One of the rather neutral topics I wanted to follow up on is BlogHer. Oh, sure, you probably are thinking I must be all full of myself to think I “belong” at what is typically, and probably quite accurately, viewed as a Mommy Blogging Orgy of Self-Adoring Asshats. But heh, aren’t all bloggers just a little too much into themselves or else why would they even blog?

I’ve always wanted to go (“always” being since 2007) because I live here, in the puckered and pimpled ass of the US. I love Nebraska, but I am constantly flummoxed on how I can live smack-dab in the middle of this nation and yet still be as far away from anything remotely exciting and new as if I was the mate of a lonely polar bear afloat on a 10×10 slab of ice.

Ooh, the similies. They are a’flowing like…

never mind.

Back to BlogHer. It’s in Chicago. The drive to the airport takes longer than the flight. It’s a chance to meet a few of you I’ve only had the pleasure of either blogging, flickering, twittering, or facebooking with. I’ve been lucky in the past and have met a handful of bloggers, including Mollywogger, Suz, Alexa, Jennifer and Enat. But I’m selfish. I want to meet more.

I’m not going under the guise of mommy blogger (MB), either. Instead, I will always be a dyed-in-the-wool IF blogger. SIF blogger, if you want to get technical, which seems to be the in-thing to be nowadays (for those of you who were  SIF, isn’t it funny how times have changed?). I can go in under the cloak of MB, infiltrate the ranks easily with talk of teething (oh, yes, she is – god help us) and breastfeeding with the new parents and even speak the language of the parents who have elementary school children and how their teachers suck and how poop and fart jokes somehow NEVER get old.

But.

My heart belongs to IF. The first time I hear some knowitall talk smack about ART, I’ll be all over them like flies on shit. However, I will try to keep it civil since one of the few lessons I learned from my dear, sweet, bitter mother is, “Be nice the first time. If they don’t get it, then  you can be a bitch.”

Also, I am not deluding myself into thinking that by going I can effectively “increase blog traffic”. Punch Drunk? She has peaked. I know that. I just need to look at my stats and see that the most hits I ever got before the birth of ZGirl was when I miscarried Wolf. I’m sorry, but no amount of traffic will ever make me want to go through that emotional insanity again.

I just want the chance to meet those I may never get to again. It will probably be one of the first times in almost two years that I get to do something JUST FOR ME. No husband who won’t even go to the mall with me because of all the snarky comments I make about shoppers, which he swears they can hear me say even though they are 10 yards away. No kidlets waking at 6:15 on a Saturday just to ask if they can watch Nickelodeon or to let me know that ZGirl’s still asleep.

Just me, me, me…and hopefully, some of you. And for those of you who suggested bunking up, it’s time to put your money where your mouth is. I want to get this bitch booked.