Verizon Disney Mobile Magic part 2: Video Style

Remember how I told you about this?
My little trip to Disneyland?
(btw, no I did NOT call myself a 'top mommy blogger' Alltop already did that...shhh!!!)

USAir Hates Families

So, I went back east. The kids came too, since we go pretty much everywhere together.
I needed a(nother) root canal, and Supergirl had a cavity which needed to be filled. No dental insurance + a brother who is a dentist + three roundtrip tickets back east = less money than California dentistry.
Except it turned out that Supergirl actually had insurance. It's just that nobody tried to tell us that when it was relevant and she was covered. Under her father's job. Which he mysteriously lost just days after being ordered to pay child support (which he must have interpreted as one of those 'optional' court orders, as evidenced by my empty mailbox). Strange thing is, he only disclosed the information that the kids were insured when we were about to fly back east. Too bad it wasn't sooner, as in, when they were first covered, because then she probably would have avoided the extraction. Father of the year, I tell you.
When I arrived in the tundra known as Buffalo, NY, it was about -6 degrees. Yes, that is a minus sign before the 6. I would have cried about it, but it was cold enough to freeze saltwater, and tear-sicles are very uncomfortable.
I would like to announce that my children are star travelers. Seriously. People would get on the plane and stare me down when they realized they had been seated near children. But at the end of each flight, those same passengers would inevitably be the ones to praise my children and their good behavior.
In fact, they were better behaved than some of the adult passengers and USAir staff I encountered on my first attempts to fly across the country. When I purchased my tickets I saw that they had seated me rows away from each of my children, aged 8 and 4. I called right away and asked for a seat change but was told they could only help me when I arrived at the airport. I've heard that one before.
When I arrived at SFO, I headed for the nearest agent, even though I had already checked in online. She spent a good deal of time trying to get us seats together, so much time in fact, that I was starting to get nervous about getting through security. She finally said there was nothing she could do, but they would be able to help me at the gate. Again, heard that one before.
By the time we reached the gate, the plane was already boarding. I talked to the gate agent, showed him my tickets, and he replied, "Why did you come at the last minute if you wanted to switch seats?"
"Whhaaaaaat?" I stammered, explaining that I had been at the airport for over an hour! "Why didn't you seat me with my kids?" I fired back.
"I wasn't the one who did that." He snidely replied.
"Ummm.....okay?" I looked at him expectantly.
He shoved my tickets back at me, disgusted. "Those are all middle seats - nobody will want to switch with you and we can't legally force anyone to switch. Plus, there's another family trying to do what you are doing."
"Ummm....okay?" I repeated...."Trying to do what I'm doing? Like sit next to their kids? I can't let them sit 10 rows away from me!! What should I do?"
He waved me on to the jetway. "Good luck with that."
I made my way down the very crowded jetway and down to a flight attendant. She looked at my tickets and said, "There's another family ahead of you trying to do what you're doing."
"So I've heard," I muttered back at her. I felt as if I was being accused of trying to sell cookies and wrapping paper to strangers on the plane. Or worse, was being accused of trying to light my underwear on fire (a joke I could not make in the airport!) ....not just trying to secure seats next to my minor children.
The exasperated flight attendant disappeared and came back to the jetway moments later. "Nobody wants to move into middle seats, and we can't legally force anyone to move from their seat."
I laughed and said, "You have got to be kidding me, right? I mean, okay...I guess it would be fine...I mean I haven't had a six hour break in I don't know HOW long...I guess I can just hand his electronics to the complete strangers sitting next to my four year old and pick him up in Philadelphia (connecting city)." At this point I may or may not have cackled maniacally.
"That's really not that funny." She said, dryly.
"WHAT??" I exploded. I had used up all my patience and humor. "You wouldn't let me put this four year old on a plane without me unless I hired an escort for him but you don't think it's FUNNY that you want to seat him practically in the LAPS of complete STRANGERS?? I think it's fucking HILARIOUS!!"
She handed my tickets back to me.
"Not my policy. Just enforcing it. Sorry, but there's nothing I can tell you. Nobody wants to move."
"That's IT???"
"I'm afraid so." And she left me standing there among a throng of passengers who were relieved that THEY would not be asked to switch seats and therefore sympathetic.
I walked back up to the gate; two kids, three backpacks, one stroller.
"Now what?" I asked the anxiety-plagued gate agent, as I handed back my unused boarding passes.
"Well....we can get you through another city but I have to check and see if I am allowed to do that, since your bags are already on the other plane and it could be a security problem."
"Not MY policy...." I muttered.

And so I was re-routed on another plane, through Charlotte, NC. Where it was a balmy 30 degrees.

So what happened? Anybody else ever experience this?
I have some ideas....
Now that USAir and most other airlines are nickel and diming us to stay in business (pay for bad snack food, pay to check baggage) they have to come up with new and creative ways to make more money than the tickets we already purchased. So some marketing WIZARD came up with the brilliant new plan of charging passengers $5 per flight to reserve a 'premium seat'. 'Premium seat' actually just translates into: A NON- MIDDLE SEAT. So basically, the message is that they hate families. There, I said it. USAir is anti-family. On top of the three full price tickets I purchased, they wanted an extra $5 per family member to ensure we would be able to sit together, instead of placing my children in the virtual laps of strangers.

They call it marketing.
I call it child endangerment.

Verizon Disney App Adventure; Part 1

Remember that secret I may have leaked a teeny tiny bit once or twice?

Yeah, that one.

Well...I was actually working while I was there so don't tell anyone how much fun I really had. I didn't think I would personally enjoy going to Disneyland as much as I would enjoy watching my kids have fun in Disneyland, but well....okay. I liked the mouseland, ALRIGHT??? Can we just keep this between us? Okay, you, me and Verizon.

Verizon?
Yes, Verizon. I was offered the opportunity by my friend, David Hoffman to try out a new Verizon application for Disneyland, and put it to the Gwendomama challenge. I had no idea what I was doing with either the app or Disneyland, because I (shhhhh) am was a Disneyland virgin, and if you saw how many keys were missing from my laptop you would easily and correctly assume my lack of technical snobbery or expertise. But I do love to have fun, and so not only did I accept the challenge...I agreed to be filmed while trying it. (As long as I could say whatever I wanted, whenever.)



I may or may not have been drunk crazed when I agreed to the filming part, but my friends hid the evidence and held me to my agreement.
Okay, I totally made that last part up because I hate the sound of my own voice and can't believe I agreed to be filmed. Why on earth would I talk about getting drunk in the same paragraph I mention Disneyland? This is a family blog. And Disneyland is ALL about the family fun and NOT AT ALL about endorsing drinking heavily. Unless you count Goofy.

First I was all, "Why do I need a special application on my phone to navigate Disneyland?" But nobody could hear me because they were all chatting away on their bluetooth devices. So I shouted, "WHY CAN'T I JUST USE THE PARK PROVIDED MAP?" and looked down to find my instantly discarded to the stroller map being mutilated by my small child. That was easy. Now I knew why, and also made a mental note to not allow the phone near said small child.

Turning on the phone, I found the 'Disney Mobile Magic' app and as soon as it loaded, it found me too! "Look!! It found us!!" I told Heidi, excitedly, "Look! That circle is us!!"
So yes, it knew where we were instantly. Which I find both awesome and creepy. I kept looking over my shoulder to see if someone was shining the circle on us and following us around with a laser dot. I told you, I am not very technical.
Despite my admonitions to 'go before we leave the hotel room', Heidi immediately needed a bathroom. We had just walked onto Main Street, USA, and the kids were overwhelmed with the dazzling Disney eye candy, so we could hardly see signs for a bathroom.
OH! The APP!!

'Mobile Magic' opened, I selected 'Guest Services' from the main menu and the first sub-option to pop up was 'restrooms'...which? Was awesome. Without moving from that spot, we located the subtly labeled and previously invisible bathroom directly behind us within about 40 seconds. Which means that Disney and Verizon are totally fine with you being too lazy to do it the old fashioned way by walking around and looking. And that? Again, awesome.

Right away, Bubbles wanted to meet Mickey. Since he is not a kid likely to be shy of giant masked friendly rodents (as his sister would have been) I was sort of excited to get him to Mickey ASAP. I went to the 'Characters' selection on the app, and just as I was telling Heidi that 'it says he should be right here in Main Street Plaza at 8:40' I looked up from my teeny tiny alluring screen to see a line forming directly in front of me. For Mickey. Right there, at Main Street Plaza.
Correct again, Mobile Magic!

Okay, with the bathroom stop and the meeting of Mickey under our mommy belts, we were ready to attack the meatier subjects at hand: Rides.
"WE WANT TO FIND NEMO!!"
Oh cool, now I was feeling useful! I whipped out the phone again, clicked on 'Attractions', looked for Finding Nemo's Submarine Voyage, and located it on the map to find how to get there from where we were.
Ready for the best part of all?
What's everyone's least favorite part of Disneyland?

.............(' -----take a moment--------')...............

Yes, we all agree.
Waiting in lines.
(That link, by the way has some great tips.)

This app updates every few minutes to tell you what the wait time is on any given ride.
There are other ways of finding out the wait times for rides; you can, alternatively walk to the kiosk in Main Street Plaza at any time and receive the updated wait times for any ride. And I encourage you to search ahead of time, which attractions you want to see and what you want to prioritize
But if you are roaming in the park nowhere near Main Street, and want to check the wait time of any ride at all in any area of the park, the app is going to save you some time.

While we were trying to find Nemo, we saw some rockets.
"WE WANT TO GO ON THE WOCKETS!!"
We were at Disneyland. Where world famous pirates and animatronic adorable small singing children abound, but our kids wanted wockets.
Whatever.
Wockets won.
And off to the wockets rockets we went.
And we were ready for more action.

We found Nemo just where the app said we would, but after our long and tiring submarine voyage, it was time for food.
Out came the phone, and since I was becoming pretty adept at using it, I bragged that I could find anything anyone wanted to eat. Which, with small children, translated into 'quick service and near- instant gratification'. Within a moment we had located a place to eat just yards away from us. My only complaint about this feature is that it showed me every kind of cuisine available from African to Thai food, but not one category was labeled 'coffee' or 'cafe'. If Disney wants me to chase my kids around in their park all day long, the coffee would help.

Something I didn't get to try out but found highly appealing was the 'set alerts' option for the 'Events' option. I tend to get distracted with my kids' involvement and may forget something in which they had earlier expressed interest. For instance, the parade. I could go to the 'Parade' label in 'Events' and set an alert on the phone so that, ten minutes before the parade (or whatever 'Event' I chose) the phone would ring and remind me.

Verizon certainly has a cutting edge product for Disney fans and park goers, and, with any brand new product, there are many suggestions for how to improve it. Droid users will be disappointed to find out that the Mobile Magic Application is not yet available to them.

Personally, I was pretty happy with the features of the app, but the Chocolate phone I was using would shut the app down every time I closed the phone and put it in my pocket. Sadly, this is just the nature of flip phones or phones which close.
I suggested a 'kid tracking application' to Verizon - useful in any situation in the prevention of lost children. If I can have all the benefits of GPS, I want a tiny receiver which I can clip on to my four year old's shirt or pants, activate with my phone, and keep track of him should he stray from my side. I am sure they will get right on that. (HELLO? Really nice guy from Verizon- are you listening?)

All in all?
I had more fun than I thought I would at Disneyland, I am now far more technically savvy than I was before using this app (and phone, for that matter) - so savvy, in fact, that you should hire me to teach you really important technical colored things . My only complaint is that Disney did not control the weather, and we spent one full day of our 2-day pass, drying our soaked shoes and socks over the heater and huddled in the motel room watching cable Disney channel.

My very last tip to you? Choose a motel with a hot tub. Because then, even if you get caught in the only freezing, pouring rainstorm of the year, you can get warm and keep children who are entertained by warmth and water happy.





This post was created voluntarily to record the events which were filmed by David Hoffman. I was not paid to write this post, nor was any other party able to edit the final publication.

Colossal Disney Swear Fail

Okay, I still can't really tell you why I am here, but, after a day of dogs-and-cats type freezing rain, chilled-to-the-bone and whining kids (the OLDER ONES!), absolutely zero photo opportunities, and all day hotel TV, I must at least tell the funniest part so far.

Last night, after a long and tiring hot tub swim with the kiddos, Heidi put herself and early bird kids straight to bed, while I put mine straight into an anti-chlorine bath and slipped into a glass of wine. As my kiddos were toweling off, we heard some large booms, and almost instantly - and very excitedly - realized that we could see the spectacular show from our second floor hotel balcony/walkway.
"Ooooooo, Ahhhhhh..." they exclaimed once before the door bolted open next to us and Heidi and her boys emerged....
"OH MY JESUS CHRIST SWEET BABY JESUS I thought someone was getting shot out here! SHIT! I am SO GLAD it is fireworks, but FUCK that scared me!! I was just falling asleep, and BAM! BAM! BAM! Holy fucking A."


Note to self: Create new hashtag - #colossaldisneyswearfail

We Have A Fear of Big Cats In This Family

We have been lucky enough to stay at a very generous friend's cliff house on the north Sonoma coast - it is the perfect getaway for a weekend, and we spend our time soaking in the oversize hot tub, playing games with the kids (no TV or wi-fi!) and hiking when weather permits.

This weekend marked our second visit up there, and I loved being there as much in stormy weather as I did in our 80 degrees heatwave a few weeks ago.
The drive, however, is freakishly scary in a wind and hail storm, so we waited the storm out an extra day and played vacation house for a long weekend.

In one of the storm respites, we managed to get the kids to walk up the road to what we call 'Fairyland', a very large natural cave system created by windblown cypress trees on the edge of a cliff. Apparently, since our last visit to the Fairyland, Bubbles created his own version of what those caves really hold.




He ran into the darkness of a cave and came running back, dramatically shouting, "Oh NO! Lions! LIONS! Dere's a LION!! In da CAVE! Gonna GETCHYOU!! RUN RUN RUN!!"
I played along with him for a few minutes, then he kept talking about it and worked himself into a froth and started panicking for real. Of course, all I could do was giggle and videotape his terror.

Here, he warns me about the Lion coming out of the cave and how it is going to eat my pictures (my camera). Luckily (or, disappointingly, depending how you look at it), only Supergirl and Daddy emerged from the cave. I have no idea where he gets it, and I am quite sure it has nothing to do with my fear of San Francisco tigers.

Gross Factor: High

Before I headed down to SLO this weekend, I told my friend Joanne (who hates when I give her a 'boring' pseudonym like 'Jan') that I would take a picture of bubble gum alley for her.

My friend, the BOS, grew up in SLO and when she moved there as a teenager, the gum was just up at the highest reachable row. Then the film crew from That's Incredible showed up in town to cover the gum alley, and pretty soon stores downtown all had bubblegum machines and the walls got covered.

I think Joanne sort of believed me when I told her about it, but the fear factor of imagining your four year old walking down an alley and plucking a piece of gum off the wall to pop into his mouth creates such a gag reflex that her imagination really couldn't take her any farther.

"It's pretty gross," I told her, "It smells kind of like minty juicy fruit and spit."

She responded by throwing up.

Both walls of the alley, ground to top, are covered with gum.

Blogher 08 in a (Very Large) Nutshell

Blogher '08 was a whirlwind for me, and from a few glances around my (ever-growing) list of writer friends, it seems it was an exhausting and exhiliarating experience for most of us.

I have not even sorted out all the new cards from my leftover lollipops.
The (non-edible) shwag remains bagged. I have not had much down time ("::blank stare::") since the non-stop Blogher conference. But here is my not very short synopsis.

Since the legendary Blogher pre-parties now start on Thursday (because who could possibly wait until Friday when (squeee) y'all are right in the hotel anyway and hell let's do some hugging!!), too many of us may have possibly given just a tiny bit too much energy to the earlier parties, not taking into account the time release action that would be necessary to withstand the pace of the weekend. Blogher is growing up into a far more sophisticated partier as it evolves into a more intellectually and/or emotionally challenging venue. Call it counterbalance?

So, Thursday afternoon I got to the St. Francis Hotel and I saw a bunch of people I didn't know but I did know who they were, and should I just approach them? And, YES! After I purchased some inner confidence at the store in the lobby, I did approach them. And it may have been the panties, but it was awesome. Aside from one ultimate snub moment in the lobby, (the one in which a rather bossy blogger looked at my card, and without changing her expression, handed my card back to me) most people were very nice to me. Even if they did think I was drunk when I told them about how I went and bought new panties. Not drunk because I was telling them about purchasing underwear, because I assure you that is a perfectly normal thing for women to talk about, but because I was all: OMFG I am so crazy listen to my story about purchasing fancy panties!!

(this is the story:)

I get nervous in big cities with tall buildings because the
buildings make me incredibly disoriented and I can't find my way anywhere.
(Do not follow me in cities, I am probaby lost.) So I got brave and walked
outside the hotel which is downtown San Francisco. Even though I
live not that far away, I live in the mountains. The barely singed
mountains. Right outside the hotel entrance were a few shops, so I walked
into the fancy pants store and tried to buy some confidence by way of
silkies. But there was some other chick who came in after I
did and the hottie salesgirl was all 'ooohhhh, let me help you buy some
delicates!!' to her, and I was looking around me for signs of shlumpiness, but the real
problem with shlumpiness is that The Shlumpy can never really tell if they are
shlumpy, or it wouldn't be an issue. Since I knew I didn't stink, and
I knew my pants were covering up my bird-pecked wooden leg, I decided
it must just be shlump. I was all 'oh man I have shlumpy mom written all
over me and they don't even want to sell me underwear' and then the skinny girl
came over to help me (ME!!) and offered to sell me (ME!) some delicates!! I was so
incredibly flattered that I obliged and told her I would take three, and while she
was staring at my credit card with her photographic mind, my gaze wandered to
another exit from the store - one opposite the street side from which I had
come. "OH WOW!" I exclaimed, in my most suave and least mountain hillbilly
shlumpiness voice, "That rug is the same one as in my hotel!"

She smiled at me nicely but uncomfortably, the way one smiles at
a drunk grandma stumbling after thanksgiving dinner. She handed my credit card
back to me, and with it the bag of delicate panties. I was not
shlumpy. I was fancy. I was purchasing
confidence panties at vicky's secret!! I walked out the other door to investigate. The door which led directly back into the lobby of the St Francis Hotel.

(sssssttttt: that? was my hawtness sizzling)

So, not actually drunk but probably earning some reputation in the lobby for being totally drunk, and not sure I was going to be able to handle going to the party coming up with all those people, I decided to go back to my room. To get drunk. Which was awesome because the Boss of Seattle was in town to help us kick-off the pre-party Blogher weekend and she was meeting me in the room so I wouldn't have to drink alone meet all those people alone.

When we got to the People's Party there was no free alcohol left and the lame bar was charging ten bucks for a glass of really bad wine, so instead of drinking (more) we had to talk to people and so we did. We were lucky to meet up with the awesome fun SJ before hand (even though she made us scream loudly), so at least we looked cool when we walked in. I met Jenny that night and we talked for a while. She grabbed my lighter and stuck it down her cleavage and then totally stole it. I don't think she remembers the part where we swapped the spit in our palms and played jumprope games in the hallway but it's okay; I am comfortable with our relationship just the way it is.

Suddenly it was Friday morning and I had to actually work. The hardest part was making it to registration and then to breakfast, considering there were only a few hours between the shutting and opening of my eyes. After that, it got easier because Blogher kept feeding us. There was no way to fall asleep with the incredibly thoughtful constant offerings of maintenance caffeine and sugar (two thumbs up!!). At some point that morning (was it the first keynote slash incredible swag-fest?) I ran into Em and fully squealed. If you knew Em, you would squeal too. Poor Em, she had no room and there were no rooms at the inn. Alas, poor Em, meet my roommate Tricia! Tricia, who has the same 'bring-the-puppy-home' instincts as I do, gave the nod and we gave her the keys to our room and sent her up for a nap. We ended up getting to keep her all weekend!

I pretty much ran the mic at all the parent track sessions, so once I got over my hangover got all the huge amounts of initial swag back up to my room (hello, Blogher? applause again for the 'all under one roof' plan!), I took my place at the mic in tower room A for most of the weekend. I will say this about mic running: I was nimble and it's a damn good thing. You would think it is a damn good thing because I was running that mic around from person to person. Nimble helped for that, but it became absolutely necessary when I needed to outrun the mobs of angry women who didn't get 'their turn' with the microphone and thought it was because of some personal hatred I harbored for them. There was some laptop slamming and cursing.

Hello, women? Manners much? And for those of you who actually did learn how to raise your hand when you want a turn to talk, did you ever think that someone behind you may have raised her hand before you? Grip on patience. Get one.

Other than the unexpected potential hazard of being hardinged, the mic running was the perfect 'fly on the wall' type of job. It also allowed me to whisper sweet nothings and admiration comments to the bloggers I wanted to meet who also wanted the mic (which was in my hand).

I wanted to pay closer attention to the MommyBlogging: Public Parenting & Privacy panel, but it was hard with Chris, Crystal, Shannon, and Shino Tanaka all making so much sense and looking damn sharp at the same time. With the newly missing brain cells, it was a bit of sensory overload for me, but the take home and sleep on this one message was a recurring theme for most who write about their family: Think about what you are writing and write as if anyone involved will see it. It will stick to you.
There was some awesome lunch, more caffeine, and a visit to the eye-popping Sesame Street Suite. Cupcakes, cookies, candy, popcorn! Grover, Abby Cadaby, videographers and puppeteers! I wanted to live there but they locked the room at night and I didn't get to fulfill my dream of sleeping on the stoop of 123 Sesame Street.

The community keynote on Friday evening was phenomenal. Stupendously, tear-jerkingly, pants-peeingly, fabulous.

Standing ovations and much hugging. No judgments. Just applause.

Don't let word get out to those who assume that Blogher is a drama fest; I would hate to rain on their snark parade by showing them the delicious nougat at the center of Blogher.

After this mind blowing show of talent, I pulled myself together for the Ruby Skye cocktail party; I had to work at the door, checking badges and tickets. Apparently this was the hot ticket, because we had to turn a ton of people away. I felt sad for the first hapless few (huh? I needed a ticket for this?) but then Loralee taught me how to say 'NO!' with glee and soon I was shouting at Tanis to get the fuck out. But it was Tanis and damn if that girl just doesn't listen so we had our pic taken together and she made me look all puffy and teletubby-ish but since I love her so very much I will show you anyway.

Loralee and I spent over an hour together before we discovered our dead baby connection, and then there was more squealing. Who would have guessed that would ever be something to squeal over. But when it comes to being in the company of that unfortunate club, it sometimes just is. She is righteous.

Once I was free to leave my new job as a bouncer, I headed into the club. It was loud and fun, and I still had my drink tickets! The BOS and I spotted an old friend and had our picture taken with her, but we were totally embarrassed when we spotted her underwear and realized our mistake -it wasn't Britney after all but some imposter who had slipped by me and gotten into the private party!







I was so shamed by this experience that I hid in the secret smoking room back room talking to Tanis, Biggie, and my new local friend Mindy for the next two hours, opting out of some big party to which I had not been invited but was supposed to attend. Then Chris Carfi noticed that my toes were painted in honor of his emoodicon rings and we were all OMFG LET'S BE FRIENDS! And then another hour or so went by and we realized we were still there!

After this, we met some new friends, went back to the hotel and brought our party to SJ's room, who was a great sport. Even when the chair was stolen from the hallway because, well, we needed one more chair. Some stuff happened, though Melanie will deny it all, and then we went to bed.


Wow. See? Aren't you exhausted already and we haven't even made it to Saturday? I was too, which is, I guess, why Saturday happened in bullet points. It was weird.

• Starbucks is good for hangovers. Especially when it is free and bottomless and you are denying that you are hungover.


• I learned that mic running in the ballroom is so much harder because the room is so much bigger and your coffee is so far away.


• Finally ran into Amy and delivered the secret baby gift I had been carrying around for her. Also unintentionally made her pee herself when I read her baby-naming mind. No, I can not be bribed. (shhh...that's gwendomama at gmail dot com)


• SWAG FEST: Thought about maybe giving Leapfrog another chance because their sigg-like logo swag bottles were so awesome, and had way too much fun getting free stuff in the 'like it? take it!' swag suite.


• Loved the MommyBlogging: The Commercial Momosphere: Policies, Ethics and Outreach panel. Not sure why, but I want to hug this woman whenever I am near her, and although Kristen makes me feel small and awkward when I stand near her, I love her and never got enough time to chat with her (about how much more we should hang out).


• There was some quick lunch and a whole bunch of ass-pinching as I ran through the ballroom. Did anyone else get their ass pinched as much as I did?


• The afternoon was hard. I realized something about being a mic runner and having asked to work in sessions on topics about which I am interested. Not the most brilliant idea. I wanted to talk. The best panel for me, MommyBlogging: Blogging About Our Children with Special Needs, was also the most frustrating for me, personally. Only because I wanted so badly to say something, but there was never an open moment with the microphone; people always had their hands up. It felt wrong to use the mic when I had it in my hands. So much power. I can't abuse power. I know I'm all big mouthed, but my mama taught me some manners way back when. I had little volcanoes exploding inside each time I handed the mic to the next commenter (who always had something incredibly poignant to say, thus confirming my own suspicions that I should just smile, nod, and try not to cry).


• I cried a lot during that session.


• I am a stealth crier.


• Last panel of the day was about blogging about adoption, loss, and infertility. More crying. But meeting some awesome women.


• Some other stuff happened.


• There was a party at Macy's which was...a good idea. I am thinking of starting a Kristy Sammis fan club, so that's all I'm going to say. It seemed like a good idea.


• I missed out on the free vibrators and k-y samples, but Em did not.


• She thought the k-y was perfume and thanked the woman at Macy's for the 'new scent'.


• I saw almost everyone I love at the top floor of Macy's but they didn't trust us with red wine near the furniture so I had to blow out of there after I ate six salted caramel ice cream cones about an hour or so to go to the next party,


• The cheeseburger party. Which got busted seconds before I got out of the elevator and saw Lindsay with a burger bag on her head pleading with the stern looking security guard (one of five!) who was herding the women to the elevator.


• I pretended I didn't know them and walked right past but didn't want to get Isabel or Y in (more) trouble so met up with everyone in the lobby of the St Francis where we got quite loud,


• And Laid-off Dad (aka Doug, easy to spot because of all his DAD-ness) entertained us by juggling cheeseburgers, since there were about eighty cheeseburgers left after the big bust.


• Rachel (aka a different SJ) and I went on a mission around Union Square at 11:30 pm, dressed up in cocktail party garb, delivering the remaining cheeseburgers to the homeless and hungry. [Me: I feel kind of bad giving them cheeseburgers from mcd's. I mean, seriously. Rachel: BUT WE ALSO HAVE FRIES!!] The driveby cheeseburger drop-off was a highlight of the weekend for me. In sandals. With tall buildings all around. Rachel must have superpowers, because I did not get lost.


• I have so many new crushes and friends. When I sort through the PILE of cards, I will introduce you to them!
• SueBob let me have my way with her breasts, err, I mean with her stapler.


• I discovered that Carmen, if you didn't already know, has fabulous boobs.

Going to The Blog

So...everyone's a-talkin about the Big Event. Some of us have concerns that our children may not make it without Mama for three (or four) whole days, nights included.

I am pretty sure mine will be okay, though I fully expect Daddy to be demanding to sleep in all of next week. Truthfully, we don't leave our kids. I can count the number of times we have gone out together without our children on one hand, and I am fine with that. I actually love it. I didn't put off the childbearing portion of my life for so long just to have someone else raise them.

But we're no fools. We know that even we need breaks from the kids and each other. Our way of doing things usually involves one parent leaving and one staying home with the children. Except 'our' is a relatively new term in our household, as I have not been able (nursing toddler) or willing (toddler) to leave overnight until very recently. Daddy has had a fair share of ski and backpacking trips, but I was slower to ready myself for escape.

It dawned on me that perhaps breastmilk wasn't so necessary in my two year old's diet anymore, and even he could make it through the morning without a little moo (his word). So, back in March, for Elijah's birthday, some girlfriends got together and took me (20 miles) away for the night. It was good.

About a month later, I went up to the city (75 miles!) for another girls' night out. It was actually a smashing good time, but 'we' allowed one of the chicks on board to get way too drunky on a way too empty stomach and she ended up needing to be rescued from herself as she was discovered stirring vomit soup in the (clogged) hotel sink. I haven'tbeen able to write about that night, because one of those victims was a blogger and I couldn't get through the story without

a) peeing myself, or

b) revealing her name.

But now I have much better self control and I'll never tell.



So today I took myself out for a bra. One that might even match the dress I might even wear instead of the one other fitting bra I own, which happens to be black. When you breastfeed for as long as I have, you find that

a) not one bra you had previously worn will ever fit those titties again, and

b) you (I) kinda really need one. (in urban public, so shut up if you are my friend reading this)

With bra, I am now officially ready for Blogher, and so are the girls.

We are ready to plod ahead bravely, boldly abandoning the children for the weekend to their Daddy and his chef skills (scrambly eggs, check; spaghetti & meatballs, check; nachos, check), a weekend in which they won't once be able to have to ask mama to please stop 'working' (ha) on the computer. Not once will I have to change a diaper, read a book in large print, refill a sippy cup, throw away yet another full plate of small cut up uneaten food, brush another person's teeth. Even as I feel the relief as I write those words, I feel the twinge of guilt for feeling it.

This morning, supergirl climbed into bed with me, and skin-to-skin we cuddled for a long time together. "Mama," she whispered, "When are you leaving?"

"In two more days," I assured her.

"Mama! When you go away this weekend to the blog, I won't see you again until Sunday!"

"I know honey, remember we talked about that. Please try not to be sad about Mama going away."

No! Mama! When I see you on Sunday, it will be my birthday and I will be finally seven! It will be a special day because when we come to get you in the city, I will finally get to see YOU, AND I WILL FINALLY BE OLDER! ALL AT THE SAME TIME!"

Indeed.

Legoland Pirate Shores of Doom

Before I can tell you how much fun we had at Legoland, I need to get unburden myself of my personal blog-clog. I have plenty to say about our memorable tourist activities and just how fabulous, in general, San Diego is. But because I tend to be obsessive I tend to compartmentalize when processing, I have to surf this scary motherfucking wave all the way in before I can tell you about the happy waves we caught before this one. Legoland is geared towards families with younger children. This said, there are plenty of rides that are fun for adults and older children, but the majority of attractions are designed for children under 14 (I am being generous here). This also said: I do not have a problem with teenagers, so don't get all 'your ignorance is blissfully entertaining to me, oh mother of smallish children' on me. I do have a problem with children of any age who have not been taught to:

1. listen to adults
2. respect others
3. physically control themselves

Legoland has a small area of the park which is a waterpark. Emphasis on small. I am not sure how new this feature is, but it seems they have not quite gotten the rules straight. They do seem to be strict about keeping the wet and dry parks separate, evident by our witnessing ejection of a ten-ish year old girl from the line for a boat cruise for wearing just a bathing suit.

The information offered on their website regarding small children is unceremoniously simple: Please note that swim diapers are required for all children under 4 years of age.
Because of some height-restrictions on the rides, we split up for a while so Supergirl could ride some thrill rides without sending her thrill-seeking brother into cataclysmic exclusion tantrums. I took him over to the Pirate Shores (of DOOM) and switched out his regular diaper for a swim diaper. I put his shorts back on over his swim diaper, because like most mothers whose brains were working that morning, I of course put many changes of clothes for the children into the backpack.
I wound through the entrance crowded with strollers and put the excited and wiggly boy down. He made a beeline for the water, but we were stopped by a teen attendant who asked me to take off Bubble's shorts to show that he had a diaper on underneath. I wrangled the shorts back off of him, then put him back down to explore the fountains and slides, but was stopped by another teen attendant who demanded that I put his short on over his swim diaper.
WHAT THE?
Okay, fine. Yes I rolled my eyes at her, which may have set the precedence for reciprocation, but I mentioned the website's sparse rules which had mentioned nothing about the need for more layers. She snapped back at me, "I didn't write the website! What do you think?" She gained momentum with the interest of some nearby guests, "I made that all up myself? I'm not responsible for the website!"
I didn't really care to argue this with her, so turned my attention to whatever it was that made Bubbles want to be there. This was, apparently, a small red waterslide. To reach this waterslide, one must first navigate through waterspouts up the steps of the play structure. Which is exactly what Bubbles was trying to do when he was kneed by some very large kid right off the steps and onto the ground.
Bubbles is not a wimp; he picked himself up faster than I could reach him and scrambled back up the steps. Meanwhile Power-Hungry Teen Girl in Important Looking Red Shirt was still enjoying her audience and much eye-rolling ensued. She seemed to have really liked me and was trying to get on my good side, evident by her attention to detailing my every move.
I started to walk closer to the slide - I didn't like the looks of the large pack of wild, running children headed back around their circuit, with my son directly in their path. I watched as they knocked over 2 small children and then headed for mine.
"HEY! Maybe you should do something about this?" I shouted at PHTGILRS as I pointed up at the pack and ran for my son.
She then grabbed my wrist and yelled in my face to take off my shoes. And something about parents not being allowed up there on the slide.
Again, WHAT THE?
I yelled back that I was not going to take off my damn tevas and she should let go of me right now. I literally shook her off when I saw Bubbles get knocked over face-down into a puddle of water, nearly trampled by the kids who knocked him over (again, no reprimand for the kids), and as I ran to lift him out of the puddle, the dumps-every-ten-minutes THREE HUNDRED GALLON bucket of water dumped on us, pinning him down further. At least I was over him at this point. When I got up I was soaked and stunned. Bubbles was screaming. I walked away in a daze as PHTGILRS had an indiscreet giggle. I considered walking over to her just to kick her in the shins, but changed my mind since I really just wanted to get my baby out of that danger soup.
We remained in the park for just another hour after that, dashing from ride to ride to squeeze it all in. I am glad we didn't leave right after that - It surely would have ruined our experience to have left on that note.
Did I write letters? You bet I did. I actually talked to the safety supervisor at length this morning. She assured me that 'the appropriate steps had been taken' with the employee. I can only hope that this means her PHTGILRS wearing ass has err...walked the proverbial plank.
More to come on the legoland fun, but consider this your PSA of the day: Keep your small and defenseless children away from Legoland's new and ill-planned water park area. The rest of the park is far more fun, and I would place bets as to how long until they close this new 'attraction'.

Cute But Selling Real Cheap FREE!

Yesterday's excerpt:

Me: Yes, yes we ARE going to the beach! Hang ON! I have to get some toys together!

Supergirl: Come ON, MAMA! LET'S GO NOW! WHY ARE YOU TAKING SO LONG?

Me: Just a sec! Go get your suit on! You're not even ready! LET ME GET THE SUNSCREEN!

SG: COME ON MAMA! YOU ARE TAKING TOO LONG LET'S GO!! I WANT TO GO TO THE BEACH!

Me: Okay! I'm ready! Let's go!

Five minutes and one block later...

SG: I am tiiiiired. I don't want to waaaaaaalk. How come Bubbles gets to ride? That's not faaaaiiiir.

Me: (grrrrrrrr)

Five minutes and already at the beach later...

SG: My bathing suit is uncomfortable. My bum hurts.

Me: Sigh. It's the sand. Maybe you've heard of it?

SG: I don't like this suit! I want to take it off! I didn't bring underwear! I want my dress back on! I want to go home! I want to leave the beach now!

Me: *$%!#!!

This morning's excerpt:

Me: Let's take the dog for a walk.....

Me: Supergirl, slow down! You are going too far!!! (catching up w/her)

SG: Oh I am going to the faraway park.

Me: NO! turn around! Too far! We were going to go to the bagel store!

SG: (lightbulb) (whiiiiine)I THOUGHT YOU WERE TAKING US TO GET BAGELS THIS MORNING?!

Me: HUH?? YOU are the one hoofing it to the park! If you want bagels turn around and let's go now!!

SG: Okay FINE! But I am ONLY GOING TO GET BAGELS IF YOU TAKE ME IN THE DOUBLE STROLLER!

me:(*%*#!*!!) *

*(this is silent speak for 'bite me')

Want Want Impi Now Now

I want this, I need this, I covet this.

Also, OMG, I covet this BIG ONE.

I had a gear-gasm when I saw this superlatives-need-apply item of camping supremacy:

Impi closed.

Impi opened.

We have the incredible coincidence of luck and trusting friends and have managed to somehow land a house and small dog sitting gig in the town of La Jolla. Near the beach.
Yes, I do know how to score a cheap family vacation. (scrub the sinks and tub before leaving!!)

We also drive a fabulously economical vehicle, which probably would fit all our stuff, but the kids would be wedged in between a cooler and a stressed doorlatch. So we have been looking to amend this situation with a nice rack and hard shell (that sounds dirtier than it is), and lo! The internet searches have brought us more other-continent envy.

No, we don't need this for the trip to San Diego, but we do need it. NEED IT.

Ahhhawaii....

Oh, you probably won't get a postcard this year, so consider this it!

This is the Gwendo-family on vacation. As you can see - constant motion is the itinerary.
I am in my own personal heaven right now. Where is yours?


There is no other place I would rather be on my birthday (which is tomorrow), or any day, for that matter.

I am a lucky mama.

This Is The Place

I always think I will have time to record my trips; I bring the laptop along, and then I barely have time to do anything except check email. (and occasionally reply)

This time I must have been completely nuts to think that somehow, with a 13 hour drive each way, five days of 8 hour classes for the workshop I was attending (the one that made me so much smarter now than I was 2 weeks ago), homework each night, and doling out attention to the two children who are not at all used to me being gone for 8 hours each day, that I would have time to actually write anything at all!
(joke's on me. ha!ha! i need a hug)

Which is why it took me two weeks to photoblog my trip.

So, we headed east, leaving the beloved left coast behind, with each child set up in their cushy Eurovan-Airlines personal video world. The adult passenger has to take on job of 'flight attendant', so sometimes driving is easier!

We headed out on a hot day, but the drive through Nevada was like traveling directly through the eye of hell's own inferno. Literally.

Turns out, a large percentage of the state was on fire.

The town we had originally pointed to on the map and assumed would be a good place as any to stay was waaay too smoky, and too much on fire to even consider that, so we piled back into the car and continued east on Hwy 80. I made many snarky comments about the whole damn state being full of smoke, and if you have ever tried to find a hotel room in Reno with young, non-smoking children, then you know exactly what I mean.

We drove through yet more fires, fires on either side of the road, and we noticed little more west-bound traffic than the fire and ranger trucks. Finally, (and I do say that with a tired sigh, because Nevada is a long-ass state - way longer than it appears on the map, I might say - and bit of wasteland in my humble opinion) when we reached the next town that actually had hotels in it, we started looking for a room. I may as well have been pregnant and traveling atop a donkey for all the luck that we had at the first five hotels.
"'Ummm, is there some convention going on here in booming Elko, or what?" I asked the fifth innkeeper at 12:30am.
"Nope," he replied,"There is a fire west of here. Route 80 is closed, so everyone is stuck here."
Turns out we were one the last eastbound cars allowed through, which is a damn good thing, since we couldn't stay in the town on fire, and it was a long way back to Reno.
We did finally find a motel room, and even though we (all four of us) had to share the one bed left in the town of Elko, it wasn't that smoky, and we were really tired...and everything was fine until the next morning when I watched some grown woman at the breakfast buffet ignore the spoon and stick her bare hand in the bowl of shredded cheese and scoop out a handful for her omelet and I felt a bit sick and needed to get in the car and drive away from that state as soon as possible.
On our way to the edge of the state, I swear I saw a casino billboard that offered 2-for-1 showers to truckers, but dh wouldn't turn around so I couldn't record it. harumph.
I did, however, see this sign in the ladies' room of a Burger King (in the town that was on fire) and it cracked me up. I know for a fact that this sign was not posted in the mens' room as well.

I look like that because I was completely uprepared and had no make up on me at all.

I am not accustomed to eating much fast food, and with the only other options out there being casino buffets, it quickly began to feel like I was in my own personal version of Fast Food Nation! And more on fast food in Nevada? For some reason, the fact that I can get fuel, roast beef sandwiches AND play poker and blackjack all in the same building, isn't as appealing to me as it should be. I do find it amusing, however.



Oh, Wendover Will...This tall guy will greet you if you make it through the entire state of Nevada:



And finally. leaving that sinful state behind, we crossed over to our destination state:

Can you see it? It's the one on the map to the right of Nevada. Our destination? The great Land of Zion.

Utah is very concerned for it's drivers:


Did you know that in Utah, there is an entire desert (no, a different one, not the same on that we just drove through, aka Nevada) made out of salt? Really. White as snow.
Of course you did.
Smells like the ocean. But stranger. And no trees as far as the eye can see. Except this one:


WHY DID WE GO TO SALT LAKE CITY IN JULY?
Wow, that's a good question. It just so happened that there was a course I needed to take, and the closest offering to CA was UT. It was a bit of music boot camp, as I crammed more than 2 years of curriculum into a week's worth of training. I feel smarter, but my brain still hurts.
Basically, it was a training and certification to teach introductory group keyboard to 5 to 9 year olds.
Go, me.
It is a great program, as it combines the children's need to move with a wholistic music experience that then naturally transfers over to ear training, keyboard playing, and eventually, music literacy. But did I mention that my brain hurts?

I wondered if I would stand out in this city of Saints...but I needn't have wondered much - as it was my own constant mutterings of, "Jesuschrist it's HOT HERE!!!" that gave me away. That, or our measly two children.
It was hot. It was about 105 degrees that entire week. And do you know what 'dry heat' means? It means that along with it being so hot you can barely breathe, you get the added benefit of all your skin flaking off in a daily mass exodus from your body.

Dh shredded the itinerary of awesome parks I had prepared for him and the children in favor of suffering a few hours at the hotel pool every day, then heading for Park City and the likes in desperate attempts to cool down. I spent most of my hours in a cooled and windowless basement room, singing, dancing, playing piano, and learning stuff.
I would go on and on about how clean and lovely the great city of Salt Lake was, and what I saw really was very clean, but truthfully, I only saw small pieces of the city, and those I don't remember much - because, in between the air conditioned class room, the air conditioned hotel room, the air conditioned family-friendly restaurants, and the air conditioned car rides, my brain was being fried very slowly but very steadily. And I was always am usually a heat lover.

So, on the way home from Utah, I felt a bit sad that we were so close to mountains and I had never set foot in any of them. We didn't have to be anywhere for a few days, so we took a left in Reno and headed down our favorite highway to our favorite mountains.

We camped in the van at my favorite hot springs (no, no way am I linking that), and then we decided that one night of camping with our extremely loud night gargoyle child was quite enough.
We took a lovely day hike at Rock Creek with the kids at high elevation.
Well, it was lovely until Bubbles had a fit because the wrong person (the one without breasts) was carrying him in the backpack and made himself throw-up. But because we were at elevation, I wasn't convinced it was just a temper tantrum puke, so we headed back down at my insistence. He was fine. Just pissed. And we all smelled slightly like milk-vomit. So we were slightly pissed as well.
Happy to get to a hotel after that, we headed back to Mammoth Lakes, cleaned up, swam in the pool and ate pizza and drank delicious IPA (no, the kids had margaritas), and prepared an itinerary for the drive home the next day First, more swimming at the well-heated pool. Then, lunch at our favorite mobil station (the eastern Sierra's worst-kept secret), and a final Yosemite romp in Tuolumne Meadows and Olmsted Point before we would draw straws to see who had to drive the rest of the way home.
We did make it home, but just barely. Ohgod the trip cost us a new transmission. But that's another post.

For now, I would much rather dwell on these memories:

Supergirl, trying to pose while keeping Bubbles from going over the edge of the dome.

Ferocious Yosemite bear sighting. You've been warned.

Supergirl and Half Dome in the alpenglow. How the hell did she get so cute?

A Very Short Story

Yes, I am back from Paradise...

For now, I prefer to dwell on the photos...

More words coming soon...

On second thought, words are overrated.

And in the interest of sanity maintenance...

My sunrise this morning...

My neighbor...

And later...

MY-TAIS.

In which small shreds of insanity are revealed.

Wow, Gwendomama. It sure has been a long time since you posted! What's your story?
My story? Wha? Who are you anyway?
Yes, your story. Your excuse. Your pathetic reason for not writing. Not recording one single event or anecdote or thought in what - three weeks?
Oh that. None of your business, actually.
Oh, I think you are wrong there. You are the one who decided to make those events, anecdotes and thoughts public. So what gives?
Umm....I had....a lot going on?
Nope.
Umm...I had...a nervous breakdown?
Uh-uh. I tried to call you and your phone was busy. Don't believe you. You never get chatty when you are breaking down.
Ummm...I had....surgery? Yeah! That's it! I had surgery! I had an ass-tuck and a boob 'enhancement'!
Right. I so believe you. Because that ass looks so fresh and those boobs that have nursed three babies are so...perky! Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!
Okay, you caught me. I guess I didn't think that one through. I lied.
That's better.

I had a personal crisis. A personal family crisis. So shuddup.
And stop talking to me. It's embarrassing to talk to yourself!

Not to mention, slightly crazy to answer yourself back.

Fun with food and mermaids

Look what kind of fun you can have when your parents take you to Hawaii and let you run around nakey and play with the cocktail accoutrements. And a rice cake.


Her life doesn't suck.

PHSD

Can't.
Catch.
Breath.

Back to work. Full force. With baby in tow, which sure adds to the fun but HELL it complicates things!
Five year old who throws screaming fits about socks and waistbands and breakfast (won't eat it) EVERY SINGLE MORNING before school and our family is so traumatized and tired of it.
Yes, we are all having a bit of adjustment period. I can speak emphatically for my own PHSD (post-Hawaii-sadness-disorder). Boohoo for me, I know.
But so much to blog about and no time or access to full time brain cells.
Because, as I may have mentioned before, MY BABY DOES NOT LIKE TO SLEEP. This includes napping for more than 30 minutes or sleeping at night for more than ONE HOUR at a time. Yes, I have an eleven month old who still wakes up hourly for a little rendezvous with the boobs. And, because I am a terrible parent who continually caves to her skinny (yes! just ask the pediatrician!) bleating baby, it continues to happen.
My baby has taught himself to cry pitifully, "Nononighnigh, nononighnigh!" And yes, I am serious.
And yet, in all other ways possible, he is perfect. Really. I would go into details more right now if I wasn't so sure he is going to wake up in the next seven minutes!
I have so much more work to do in Hawaii, I feel I did not investigate thoroughly enough and must go back ASAP. Since I have one kick-ass letter to write to a certain airline who totally owes me some cash or new tickets after that little fiasco, heh?, hopefully that will happen very soon. As I explained to Supergirl's school, relocating takes a lot of investigation and contemplation. And visits to Hawaii.
I had a blog-iversary and didn't even notice. Well hurrah for me.
I have a very entertaining birthday story to share. At least that is the way I have come to look at it.
I swam with more naia and honu than I could count.
But ah - he stirs!
For now, I leave you with this:

VOG

Is what they call they grey cloud that hangs over Kona and it's higher neighbors.
You will not learn this from the tourist bureau of Hawaii, that is for sure.
So, what is VOG? Well, it's like fog, or smog, but it's from the volcano, so they call it VOG.
Apparently, when the volcano is spewing HOT LAVA into the ocean in great quantities, the VOG gets worse. Like now.
When the HOT LAVA hits the ocean water, apparently clouds of sulfur dioxide and other gasses are formed. These gasses are carried up by the tradewinds and just sit there on the mountain. So after about 1pm there is NO SUN and no sign of sun.
I am not a fan of Kona.

Many more details to come, but here's a synopsis:
Dh's computer got terribly disabling worm and I could not blog.
I did turn 40.
Aloha Airlines cancelled (yes, cancelled) our flight and we sqeezed two more days out of the vacation. So I am not going to waste my last 12 hours in Hawaii blogging about it. That can wait for home.

But blogging about VOG? That could not wait.

I'm so relaxed, I have to remind myself to breathe!

I don't think I have ever spent five days in any one location and garnered as much slowed down relaxation time as I have here.
In three hours we must be moved out of this house for the next lucky people who stumbled upon paradise available for rent. We are then headed to the Kona side for the rest of our vacation - I am sad to leave the Puna district, for it feels like Hanalei does to me - home. A stack of real estate magazines and good intentions shall accompany us home.
The energy on this island is pulsing, palpable. Perhaps because of the new life being created by Pele as we speak. Suddenly, looking around at the lava-covered devastation, the life force emanating from the volcano is just as obvious as the destruction force. Land is being born here as I type.
I don't think we will make it to the area where we can see 'HOT LAVA' (scream this phrase for the full Supergirl effect) as we would be toting two kiddos over hot black a'a for two miles each way, but our 'journey to the other side' will include adventures and exploring, since it is all new to us.
Now, I must gather up the diapers, bathing suits, snacks and beach towels and cram it all into the rental car that will take us through our next adventures and on to the next house - the one with a pool and a tiki bar! Stay tuned!