Humor | Life Elevated Mom

Busted at BlogHer ’08–Part II

July 24, 2008 by Amber

Hands down, the best thing about BlogHer ’08 was my roommates. Anyone who can survive me for an entire weekend should receive a medal. And as for my family? A life-time achievement award.

I had a grand time with each gal and these are a few of my favorite memories:

Jill of Glossyveneer is super petite and sweet. She just started running last year and decided to do a marathon. Because isn’t that what every first-time runner aspires to do? Jill was in charge of setting the alarm and just to illustrate how nice she is, she said this after our first night together:

“I have been turning over every 15 minutes all morning watching the clock
so I can make sure to grab the alarm when it goes off. I didn’t want it to
wake everyone!”

Ummm, call me crazy but isn’t that the point of an alarm clock? Rest assured, they were privy to my brand of wake-up calls: steam rolling.

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Speaking of sleeping, Michelle of Scribbit was my bed buddy and evidently, things got cozy with this tall and refined beauty in our full-sized bed one evening.

Amber: “I just want to commend everyone for being such quiet sleepers last night!”

Michelle: “Well, except for when you snuggled up to me and stroked my hair with your arm over my chest.”

Jamie is still lamenting why I don’t ever do this to him.

Evidently I have a thing for blondes.

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This was Loralee of Loralee’s Looney Tunes’ first year at BlogHer but she has been ~~stalking~~ visiting many of the popular blogs for a year now so she was the one doing the introductions.

Well, with the exception of our final morning when we sat down at a table with publicists from GCI Group in New York. As we were going around the table introducing ourselves, the conversation went roughly like this:

“Hi, I’m Amber. I blog about my life at Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck and am also the editor of The Denver Post’s Mile High Mamas blah blah blah.”

“Hi, I’m Michelle and I blog at the popular blog Scribbit. I run my own advertising and am looking different ways to expand my business opportunities blah blah blah.”

“Hi, I’m Jill and I have been blogging at Glossyveneer since way back in 1991 and am training to run a marathon while raising money for the Leukemia and Olymphoma Society blah blah blah.”

“Hi, I’m Loralee and I blog at Loralee’s Looney Tunes about my Ta-Tas.”

How can a person compete with that? They can’t, which is why the male publicists at our table never gave the rest of us a second glance and why Loralee was a show-stopper everywhere she went!

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Not to dwell on all my air-travel traumas but Hadley had a fascinating insight about it all the other night.

For those who need a refresher: Flew to Canada with children. Airline lost Bode’s reservation. We were stuck on the runway for three hours due to a storm. Flying back to Colorado, the flight was canceled due to bird in windshield. Huge nightmare ensued with rebooking. Flew to San Francisco the next day. First flight smooth. Layover from Orange County canceled. Shuttled down to LAX. Caught another flight several hours later. Flying back to Colorado, not enough room for the plane so it was rescheduled to International Terminal. Everyone on the flight bused to new gate. Huge delays. Then the mechanical problems began.

To sum it up, I won’t be flying anytime soon. But my children do every night. After our bedtime routine, we “airplane” the kids to bed. When Hadley came in for her landing a few nights ago, she asked:

“Daddy?”

“Yes Hadley.”

“Did my flight just get canceled?”

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I have included a list of some of the great people I met at BlogHer. At least those whose business cards miraculously survived the trip home.

Alex Year Two ; Attack of the Redneck Mommy; Believer in Balance ; Crazy Says What ; Crunchy Carpets; The Dana Files; Delicious Baby; Geek Mommy; goGUgo; goodyblog; Indulge Laugh Create; It’s My Life; Mommy Bits; Mommy Needs a Cocktail; Mommy Poppins; Mom Without a Map; Send Chocolate; See Jane Fly; Shannon Renee Mouton; Shazia Mistry; Sizzle Says; Sparkplugging; Table4Five; The Modern Woman’s Divorce Guide; Uptake.com; VDog & Little Man; Velveteen Mind; Watch Me! No Watch Me!

Filed Under: Humor Tagged With: BlogHer

Blasting at BlogHer ’08–Part I

July 22, 2008 by Amber

BlogHer was a blast. I will not do a long, drawn-out synopsis because frankly, most of you don’t care that I bought bacon mints in Chinatown and then made unsuspecting BlogHers sample them while I snapped pictures of their reaction.

Or do you?

(~~Victims~~ Roommates Michelle from Scribbit and Jill from Glossyveneer; my other ~~victim~~ roommate Loralee has some great shots on her blog, too.)

My experience was completely different from last year, mainly because I went with more reasonable expectations and I did not try to conquer the world by befriending everyone and getting caught up in the junior high cliques. I met some fantastic gals, made some quality networking contacts, saw San Francisco and played. A lot.

While I didn’t get much out of the sessions (except for the travel writing meet-up), the overall conference experience was great. Some highlights:

Reconnecting with the great gals in this picture! Shannon (Believer in Balance), Shannon (Phat Mommy), Kerry (Crunchy Carpets), Liz (Table for Five), Me, Dana (The Dana Files) and Liz (This Full House)

I met The Grover. Sesame Street was at BlogHer and I taped a 1-minute segment with the furry monster, wishing Bode a happy birthday. We have already watched it about 50 times and I am sure he will treasure the DVD forever. Or it will serve as a reminder of how mommy tried to suck up for missing his birthday in the first place.

Exploring Chinatown, followed by dinner with Michelle and Jill at B44, an ultra-cool restaurant tucked away in a quaint alley called Beldon Place. After surveying the menu I queried “What is oxtail? Some kind of fish?” only to have Michelle reply: “I believe it is an ox’s tail.” Who knew?

Skipping out Saturday afternoon and riding the trolley down to Pier 39 with fellow Canuck Kerry. I then skipped out of the closing reception at Macy’s and had a heart-to-heart with Jill at Lori’s Diner. Evidently I have a propensity for skipping. At least that’s what my high school teachers wrote on my report card.

In my next edition of BlogHer ’08: my sexual orientation is put into question and a round-up of all the fantastic gals that I met.

P.S. And yes, I am straddling a dragon but that has nothing to do with the aforementioned “orientation in question.”

Filed Under: Humor, travel Tagged With: BlogHer

Chaos Ensues as Johnson and Children Are Grounded in Canada an Extra Day

July 21, 2008 by Amber

**PRESS RELEASE**

(Calgary, AB Canada, July 21, 2008) — Amber Johnson made a failed attempt to fly solo with her two children back to Colorado last week and spent an extra day recovering at her parent’s home in Calgary.

“I thought the flight to Calgary was bad enough,” Johnson grimaced. “I mean, it was such a headache when they lost Bode’s reservation and we then got stuck in the plane on the runway for hours on end. I thought it could not get worse.”

Sadly for this mother of two, it did. Johnson showed up at the Calgary airport with Hadley (age 4) and Bode (age 2). All went smoothly with check-in and security, after which time Johnson set the children loose to play in the terminal’s play area.

What happened next will go down in the record books as the worst luck ever experienced at an airport within a week. “It was boarding time and we leisurely made our way back to our gate,” Johnson said. “That is when they told me a bird hit the windshield of our plane, causing it to divert and land in another city. Our flight was canceled indefinitely.”

Johnson says instead of rebooking their flight, Canadian law required them to go back through Canadian customs, retrieve all their luggage, drag it across the airport, battle all the other passengers trying to find another flight at United’s check-in and then go through the entire process of U.S. Customs and security again. All this with the #%&#* Chariot stroller in tow.

Johnson did not make it past check-in. “All the flights out were booked that day,” Johnson blubbered. “We managed to get a flight the next morning at the crack of dawn which, in some weird twist of fate, my parents were on as well because they were flying through Denver to visit my brother in New Jersey. At least I had a support system the second time around.”

When asked if she would ever fly solo again with the children, Johnson turned pale, exhaled deeply and replied, “No comment.”

Oh, and if you are ever tempted to proclaim, “It’s a bird! It’s a plane!” in Johnson’s presence?

Please don’t.

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Filed Under: Canada, Family travel, Favorite Posts, Humor, travel

When a Colorado Mommy Blogger Does Canada

July 15, 2008 by Amber

We are flying back to Colorado today. As always, I love coming home to the Motherland and Calgary is my favorite city in the world. The temperatures have been gloriously mild and I could spend my entire summer here if it did not mean being apart from Jamie for so long. When I made this suggestion, he jokingly suggested we could arrange conjugal visits in Wyoming.

Because really, what else is there to do in Wyoming?

This trip has been cram-packed with walks along my beloved Bow River Pathway with my dad, illegally cruising the neighborhood in my parent’s golf cart, marathon makeovers with Grandma B., lazy summer nights at My Favorite Ice Cream Shoppe, a day trip to Elbow Falls with Aunt Sue and of course, the Calgary Stampede! Some other highlights include:

Sleeping in! My kids are both early risers and I generally can’t sleep past 5:30 a.m. But this trip, the kids slept until at least 8 a.m., which is a huuuge coup. The secret? My parent’s gloriously dark and cold basement, both of which are clear reflections on my personality.

My parent’s backyard. This has evolved into a gloriously verdant paradise of overhanging trees with 10 patio tables and swings interspersed in romantic nooks around the yard and a huge deck to kick back and enjoy it all.

Growing up, our huge backyard was the Mecca for every kid in the area with a half-pipe, fort, trampoline, play set and more. We were also at constant war with our neighbors who actually pulled a gun on some of my brother’s friends when we were on vacation. Of course, maybe that Swastika my brother’s friends anonymously burned on our neighbor’s lawn may have had something to do with it.

Hadley getting her ears pierced. Or at least making the attempt. During our family tradition of going out for Chinese food, my sister-in-law Jane decided it was in Hadley’s best interest to get her ears pierced. I was rather indifferent about it and Hadley was game…until she saw The Devil’s Gun that was aimed at her virgin lobe. I’ll spare you the details but an hour later, we emerged from that store with a traumatized mother and a hysterical kid who only got half an ear pierced. Possibly a new fashion statement?

Peter’s Drive-In’s marshmallow shake. Sure, this very shake caused an outbreak of salmonella a few years ago but it’s not like I didn’t just survive that little ol’ poisoning a few weeks ago. And besides, lightening doesn’t strike in the same place twice.

Err…right?

Filed Under: Canada, Family travel, Humor

The Real[ist] Family Travel Writer is Born

July 14, 2008 by Amber

I have always loved to travel. The problem is, travel has not always loved me. I once journeyed to France for a wedding, only to get lost and miss the entire celebration.

I built a career as a travel writer by writing a humor column about my mishaps. During a meeting with my editor, I made reference to one of my misfortunes on the trail and he professed, “You mean this stuff really happens? I thought you were making it up because there is no way all that could happen to one person!”

Welcome to my life.

When I had a family, there were understandably even more challenges. My recent solo trip home with my children confirmed it: I am the Real[ist] Family Travel Writer. While so many writers expound upon their tried and true tips for “The Perfect Family Vacation,” I keep it real. Family travel is about survival. The only two things that keep me sane are my sense of humor and a huge dose of denial. Maybe Prozac would help, too.

And so as the Real[ist] Family Travel Writer, here are some insights I gleaned from my trip that I summed up as follows to my husband: “Hell is assuredly an easier commute than flying solo to Canada with two young children.”

Case study #1

I hate DIA (Denver International Airport). This trip had some new doozies: baggage problems with “easy” check-in that forced me to wait 20 minutes for an agent; an online reservation that never reserved my son Bode’s ticket as a lap child and resulted in even more delays; those many hours we were stuck in the plane on the runway because Denver’s drought chose to end during that three-hour window and the floodgates were opened.

REAL[IST] TRAVEL WRITING TIP: BUILD AN ARK. IT WILL GET YOU WHERE YOU ARE GOING FASTER THAN DIA EVER WILL.

Case study #2

I took a big risk this trip and brought my double-wide Chariot jogging/biking stroller instead of my stream-lined Graco. Navigating The Beast was tough enough at the airport but I faced a whole new set of problems in Calgary. Do you know that adage “What comes up must come down?” Evidently, this does not ring true at Calgary’s C-Train station as my dad and I tried to board the train to go downtown to the Stampede. We scaled the huge ramp up to the ticket station, only to discover there was not a ramp going down to the platform. Huh?

After carrying The Beast down two flights of stairs, it would not fit through the doors. I thought that was the end of it until we tried to board the train and we ran into the same problem. We kicked the kids out and tried to cram it in sideways. Nothing. We finally had to disassemble the #%&*# stroller completely and catch the next sardine-packed train where my poor dad had to stand crammed up against the wall to keep all the parts in place.

The most ironic thing of all? The Chariot is made in Canada and it does not fit through their standard-sized door.

REAL[IST] TRAVEL WRITING TIP: DO NOT TAKE DOUBLE-WIDE STROLLERS TO CALGARY BECAUSE EVIDENTLY PEOPLE ARE SKINNIER THERE AND ALL THEIR DOORS ARE ON A PERPETUAL DIET.

So, why do it? As a recent New York Times headline put it, “Sure it’s frustrating and expensive, but travelers just have to travel.” The article went on to say that many people consider leisure travel to be essential, not discretionary.

My “essentials” included seeing my children play with my parents in my childhood home, holding my Great Niece for the first time, cookouts under the stars, a daytrip to the Canadian Rockies, lazy afternoons at the lake and hanging out with a longtime friend on my parent’s deck under a canopy of lilac bushes and stars. And yes, even going for walks with that #%#& stroller along my beloved Fish Creek Park trail. These make up for all the ulcers.

Mind you, my return flight to Colorado is tomorrow and next month my husband, children and I are braving the 13-hour journey to Yellowstone.

Suddenly, that Prozac is sounding better and better….

Filed Under: Canada, Family travel, Humor, travel

Inquiring Minds Want to Know: Did Amber Survive Her Flight?

July 9, 2008 by Amber

My experience was best summarized by my opening statement during my telephone conversation with Jamie.

“Hell is assuredly an easier commute than flying solo to Canada with two young children.”

Filed Under: Family travel, Humor, travel

One mommy blogger’s [humorous? painful?] path to a nervous breakdown

July 8, 2008 by Amber

There has been a morbid fascination with my exposé of our failed camping trip (read Camping, Crying and Capsizing here). While overall we had a great time with our friends, I left out the sordid details of Bode’s near-fatal (for me, not him) bout with diarrhea for two reasons:

1) If you do not yet have children and want them, I did not want to permanently traumatize you into abstinence.

2) Likewise for those who do not like poop stories because this was the motherlode of crap.

About 2/3 of the way through our 2.5-hour drive, Bode developed diarrhea that exploded out his diaper, congregating in a delicious pool of poop that saturated his car seat and then oozed onto our leather seats below. So while Jamie and Bode were down for a long summer’s nap at the campground, the rest of my afternoon went like this:

Beckoned Tina’s husband Mark to help me remove the car seat. And wisely so because he got a handful of crap during the process.
Went to the laundry room and with great difficulty, removed the car seat’s cover for the first time. Was delighted to find three year’s worth of Cheerios and Nutrigrain Bars marinating in poop.
Rinsed the cover off, threw it in the washer and bought a small box of Tide. Anticipated a nice plastic bag inside so ruthlessly tore open the box. Detergent spewed all over the laundry room. Barely had enough money for the load so was reduced to sweeping Tide up off the filthy floor with my hands.
Ran the load and then scrubbed the car seat in the huge sink. Realized there was no way the straps would dry by morning.
Went to adjacent bathroom, hoping to find paper towels but they only had blow dryers. Sat drying my car seat, completing ticking off a woman who had just gotten out of the shower. Felt like telling her, “”You have straight, thin hair. Rejoice in it. It’ll be dry in minutes” but instead gave her a “You are camping–why are you showering anyway” look.
Car seat mostly dry. Made my way back to put the cover in the dryer but realized I was out of money. Scrubbed my hands from the stench but opted out of drying them because I just spent 20 minutes under the blow dryer.
Inserted dollar bill in machine. It was rejected due to my wet hands.
Dried dollar bill under blow dryer. Continued to receive evil looks from thin-haired woman.
Went back to laundry room. Drama almost over. Tossed the car seat cover in dryer, closed, inserted money. Water started. Wait–WATER? Realized I had mistakenly put it in a front-loading washing machine that was the spitting image of a dryer. A washing machine with an iron-clad lock on it.
Sat through ANOTHER wash cycle, went back to campsite. Sent Hunky Hubby back to deal with the dryer.
Poor Hunky Hubby was up all night with diarrhea. The outhouse never smelled so good.
Vowed to never go camping with children again. At least not when they have diarrhea.
The End.

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As you are reading this, I am flying to Canada. Alone. With the children. Will there be a return of The Diarrhea of Death?

Pray for me, people. Pray for me. And pray for those on our flight. 🙂

Filed Under: Colorado, Family travel, Humor, outdoors, travel

Camping, Capsizing and Crying (all in a weekend at play)

July 7, 2008 by Amber

As backpackers, my husband Jamie and I are minimalists. We pack the bare essentials because we know we will be the ones hauling them into the backcountry.

We had also taken the same approach with car camping…until we saw the light during last weekend’s camping trip to Eleven Mile State Park, a venue that came highly recommended in Family Fun magazine and a rocky, barren venue that I would never recommend in a thousand years. Or in the eleven hundred miles it seemed to take to get us there.

Our friends Tina and Mark are Pack Everything Including the Kitchen Sink kind of campers. There is nothing wrong with this unless you are camping with them and your rations suddenly seem woefully inadequate and you find yourselves begging them to please share just a bite of their pancake, sausage and bacon breakfast to spare you the trauma of your Frosted Flakes without milk.

In addition to having a tent trailer that was stocked to the hilt, they also brought their canoe, a ton of toys, games, bubble whistles, glow-in-the-dark necklaces and a visit from the bead fairy who helped them make bracelets.

My contribution? Paper plates. A lot of them.

Oh, and both of my boys brought diarrhea. A lot of it. But I will spare you the joy of how I spent my afternoon in the park’s laundry room cleaning the pool of poop that had saturated Bode’s carseat during the drive. Jamie’s rendition of Said Illness did not hit until 11 p.m. and he had a grand ol’ time darting in and out of the tent all night and relieving himself in the outhouse.

Because those things don’t smell disgusting enough.

Our first day was windy and cold, which forced us to hunker down in Tina and Mark’s camper. Day two dawned glorious and calm so Mark announced that we would take the kids canoeing and issued a decree for anyone who wanted to come?!

Tina bowed out. She is afraid of tipping over in the canoe. Woosy.

Jamie was still nauseated from his all-night puke and poopfest. Woosy.

So I ponied up. Mark and I sailed across the water with Hadley and his son Nolan. All was going smoothly until we approached the shoreline and three motorboats departed at the same time. Three motorboats vs. one little canoe.

I will spare you the details. Actually, I don’t really remember them. All I can recollect is my end of the canoe was the first to tip and the rest soon followed. Hadley and Nolan screamed hysterically. Mark and I laughed in the same manner.

Ever the loving, concerned friend, Tina was quick to react by barking out orders from the shore:

“I’ll get the towels and Jamie, YOU TAKE THE PICTURES!”

Just not with my camera because it was in my pocket at the time. And for those who are wondering: no, it was (as in past tense) not waterproof.

Hadley speaks of the incident as if she had one foot in the grave. She was so freaked out that family therapy sessions are assuredly in her future.

Rest assured, I will bring the paper plates for that occasion, too.

Later edited: By popular demand One mommy blogger’s [humorous? painful?] path to a nervous breakdown.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Filed Under: Colorado, Family travel, Humor, outdoors, travel

Family Affection (or an extreme lack thereof)

June 23, 2008 by Amber

I love to cuddle up with my little family but when it comes to expressing physical affection, my children could not be more different. My spitfire Hadley has little interest in warm fuzzies; she is too busy conquering the world to waste her time with nonessentials such as touching her fellow humans.

The only exception is when she is puking her guts out and clings to me like a koala. Call me crazy but snuggles should not include projectiles of any kind.

Especially when that projectile is vomit.

I used to have a difficult time accepting her lack of endearment towards me until I recognized that she just expresses herself in different ways. I.e. saying “I love you” repeatedly throughout the day or generously eating all the cookies in front of me because she knows they are not on my diet.

My son Bode was exactly what this snuggle-deprived mama ordered and at 23 months old, he still freely kisses and hugs me. After a few days with Grandma when I was sick last week, we raced towards each other like a scene out of Chariots of Fire (juxtaposed against his 4-going-on-14-year-old sister who warily looked at me as if to say, “Oh yeah. YOU.”)

My solution for the vast divide between the two of them is to force “Family Snuggles.” This has become a nightly ritual as we all pile on Grandma’s Mama’s Featherbed and pin them down as they giggle their objections.

I still remember the first breakthrough I had with Hadley’s lack of physical affection. When she was 2 years old, we were bouncing around on my bed before bedtime when she stopped, plopped herself down on my pillow, put her arm out and announced, “SNUGGLE!”

Shocked, I asked, “Did you say snuggle?” She nodded and repeated herself again. I didn’t hesitate a moment longer and dove right in like an attention-starved puppy. With tail wagging.

Now, lest you think I converted her to Family Snuggles, think again. She laid there for her obligatory 10-second snuggle as if she was counting down the moments. She then plopped back up and announced we were “Alllllll twue” (in Haddie speak: I gave you what you want so can you pul-ease stop attacking me, Woman?)….

Filed Under: Hadley, Humor

Forget Salmonella–Beware of The Big, Ugly Cry Outbreak

June 20, 2008 by Amber

Our regularly-scheduled Front Range Adventure Boot Camp weigh-ins will continue at a later date due to my current condition. This week, my husband Jamie and I were supposed to lead a large group of teenage girls on their first ever multi-day backpacking trip along the rigorous Colorado Trail.

Note: I said supposed to.

I have instead spent this week on my deathbed due to the plague that struck the night before our trip. This isn’t your friendly, everyday sniffling and hacking plague. No, this illness consists of excruciating stomach pain, vertigo, nausea, fevers and head aches. And I won’t even mention all those dedicatory prayers I made at the throne of the porcelain gods nor how I went 48 hours without sleeping.

Test results have not confirmed my condition but salmonella poisoning or an infection seem most certain.

Or a violently adverse reaction to the prospect of spending four days in the backcountry with a bunch of teenagers.

I held off going to the doctor for as long as possible because of my humiliating breakdown during my last visit in September. My daughter Hadley had been sent home early from preschool with pink eye. I was suffering from really bad allergies and figured I would kill two birds with one stone and made an appointment with my general practitioner. Now, let me preface this by disclosing I was in my second month of these mind-numbing allergies. I hadn’t slept in weeks and I was on my third sinus infection.

I arrived early to fill out Haddie’s paperwork and was told upfront by the snippy front desk that they had only booked one of us for an appointment. And the doctor would only see both of us if he had time.

Enter: Nurse Betty. When she came to take Haddie’s vitals, she rudely informed me he would only see Haddie, even though the error was on their part for screwing up the booking. The prospect of living with this misery even one more day was almost more than I could handle. An argument ensued. There was blood. And not the kind triggered by a needle.

When the doctor arrived, I was a snotty, bloody mess. Before he could even open his mouth, I blabbered on about the whole confrontation. If that was not bad enough, next came the very lowest of lows: The Big, Ugly Cry. In front of a man.

Of course, I was horrified but the more I thought of it, the more I spewed big, ugly tears. The same tears that baby Haddie cried when she first watched that demonic purple dinosaur and he started singing, “I love you, you love me” –marking the end of his evil reign.

The doctor consoled me, all the while undoubtedly wondering just how soon I could be admitted into the psych ward. Before long, the office manager came in. You know: that person who only appears to deal with those patients. And then the perkiest, funniest Physician’s Assistant imaginable. It was evident they were bending over backwards to appease me. And so I did what any humiliated, snot-infested woman would do:

I took advantage of them.

Well, more like their medications. In addition to walking outta there with a referral for an allergist, I also casually mentioned a cough that I may-or-may not have had at that juncture but that I knew I would have at the conclusion of my latest sinus infection. My husband Jamie claims I am a cough-syrup addict but anyone who has ever had bronchitis or a serious cough knows that nothing except for the good stuff even comes close to knocking you out. That stuff only the doctor can prescribe.

Or a Physician’s Assistant trying to appease an irate, sleep-deprived, snot-infested woman.

I’ll take it. And you’d better believe I did.

Filed Under: Favorite Posts, Health, Humor