I spent a lot of time on Twitter this weekend, using a hashtag to try to find friends. But most of the time I found them accidentally, a hand on a shoulder, a quick hug—another follow-up hug. Gushing breathless smiles. Quick waves and nods and holy shit there are a lot of people here.
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We stayed at Eventi for the first two nights. I can’t say enough about this hotel. Modern art all over, thoughtful design, crazy marble bathrooms, insanely comfortable beds, rooftop terrace, super helpful staff. I wanted to just stay there all day soaking up the pure coolness of it. In fact on Wednesday night all I did was lounge in my bed watching So You Think You Can Dance. (Dude, that Kent and Neil routine almost caused my brain to fully short circuit in a frenzy of guy-love and gut-wrenching angst and yeah, I’m fourteen.) I don’t have a TV in my bedroom so this was a major luxury. Not to mention the floor the ceiling windows and 23rd story view.
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On Thursday I had breakfast with some of the Aiming Low girls and then took off shopping with George and Laurin. We met a good friend of ours for lunch and the day went by way too quickly. I needed like 16 more days to explore all the window-shopping goodness and bizarrely long lines for sample sales. And mini cupcakes.
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I got distracted doing things I didn’t know I’d want to do. Like sitting in a kind-of-stinky deli with women I’d just met. I drank shitty coffee and nibbled on a bagel and talked and talked until I had to pee so bad I ended up half-waddling at a cautious pace all the way back to the Hilton.
Even with my dumb bladder bursting, I turned around on the sidewalk and remembered to snag a squeezing-tight hug from a new friend. This is why I’m here.
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I sang lots of karaoke, stone cold sober. Dancing around with my husband to Scenes From an Italian Restaurant and listening to old and new friends belting out Don’t Stop Believing. I laughed until my stomach hurt and stayed up about four hours past my bedtime.
I sat next to two of my oldest friends and tried to convince them to move back to Florida when they have babies. (BRING ME YOUR BABIES.)
(We don’t need no stinkin’ sponsors to party like rockstars.)
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On Friday morning I walked across the street with Britt and attended the Getting Gorgeous event/suite. I got to meet Liz Lange and I’m pretty sure I kind of scared her by gushing on and on and on about how comfortable her maternity clothes for Target are and how they allowed me to go to work dressed as a professional and not as a billowy knocked-up doily.
I also received a free pair of magical pants (that I ended up wearing until I arrived home at 1:30 am on Sunday) and got my makeup done with elf cosmetics. (Bonus for lots of picture-taking later that day.) The makeup lady did some kind of magical thing that allowed me to stay in the same makeup from 10 am to 2:30 am, including crying my face off four times during the Community Keynote. Unfortunately the magic also made it really hard for me to get the makeup off so I almost scrubbed my own eyeballs out that night.
I was very impressed by the organization, by the non-pushiness of the sponsors and by the general classiness of the hosts, Audrey and Vera.
I heard a lot of buzz about private parties and this and that and everyone seemed very cool about everyone being pulled in lots of different directions. In addition to the Getting Gorgeous suite, I attended the Bloganthropy Awards and Schick Intuition thingies on Thursday night, and the EZPZ party sponsored by HP on Friday night.
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I spent less time doing conference-y things than I expected to. I went to one panel, the keynote, the Voices Gala, and spent about 45 minutes rounding the exposition hall. I spent the rest of the time hiding in my room, trying to eat, trying to figure out what elevator to take to go hide in my room, standing in the lobby trying to find people on Twitter, and going outside to get warm.
I don’t regret not doing much at the conference, partially because I had such a rewarding experience at Mom 2.0 earlier this year as far as programming and sessions went. I actually feel lame about not doing more in NYC, which reinforces my “I kind of wish these conferences were in really boring places so I’d stay in the hotel,” inclinations.
My overall impression was that the conference was organized extremely well. Everyone I spoke to seemed to be having an amazing time.
I’m really bummed that I missed the closing keynote while freaking out packing to leave for the airport.
The swag was there if you wanted it, and I didn’t see anyone behaving badly. At one of the events, a sponsor offered me an expensive coffee maker to review. I declined, telling him I have a less-awesome one that works perfectly well. I didn’t want to be wasteful. He stared at me and then said, “Wow, thank you. Most people would just take it anyway.” But I don’t know if that’s true, or at least I think it’s starting to not so much be the norm.
I think as a community, we’re getting more conscious of waste and the fact that swag is not there to reward us for something or because a sponsor wants to be generous, it’s there to market to us and to our friends. I heard many people politely declining promotional materials—far more than last year.
Various sponsors had some awesome stuff this year. And yes I brought an epic tote bag of it home for myself and my friends and kids. I’ll even blog about some of the stuff I really liked. So yay for that, sponsors. Well played!
Oh also Padma Lakshmi was in the expo hall and I met her and managed to tell her how much I love her without using the words “hot” or “boobs” and I really think I deserve a medal for that.
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I asked for hugs and man, I got them. Hugs on the elevator, hugs in hallways, bathroom hugs, hotel room hugs, hugs on the street. Awkwardly long hugs where I didn’t really want to let go. Teary hugs where I didn’t want to say goodbye.
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Which reminds me. We need to get Bradyn a puppy. Please consider spreading the word.
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Colleen and Tatiana went with me for cupcakes and sitting on steps that were not the steps of the Met but still made me feel very metropolitan and chic. We sat in the sun and in the shade and just chattered for a little while. Even though I felt like crap from being out until 2:30 in the morning and then failing to sleep after that, they made the afternoon perfect.
Before we left (earlier than almost everyone else) we ran around Central Park (hobbled, really) and I took pictures.
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Several people asked me how I was doing. It’s so bizarre when you realize that yes, some people read your blog and therefore know that you’re freaking out inside and maybe didn’t sleep the night before and possibly might run for the nearest bathroom at any given point to have excessively enthusiastic bowel movements.
“I’m doing okay,” I’d smile. It felt so good to say that, to mean it. I didn’t do perfect but I did okay. That’s more than I hoped for.
The value of readership truly can’t be measured. I’m so grateful for and honored by the people who come by here to read my words.
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I kind of re-fell-in-love with my husband on this trip. Taking his hand while we walked. Bumping into each other on the subway. Getting completely confused and lost together.
He touched by back a lot, rubbed my shoulders, checked in on me without making me uncomfortable. He gave me space and found his own fun. He met my friends and met new people. He put on Like a Prayer at the karaoke booth and got the party started.
I leaned on him and he propped me up, all warm and solid and familiar.
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It felt so good to get home, to notice how very very small my little boys are compared to the big big city and big big grownups and all the possibilities and hugeness of the world. I held them both and smelled their hair and felt whole and strong and happy.
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