New York, New York

If you’d told me before I had kids that one of the highlights of my day would be watching a chain reaction of toddlers melting the eff DOWN, screaming in succession, one after the other, complete with whining, I’d have told you that you were crazy. Because it IS crazy, but when they lose their shit like that, I’m sorry, it’s FUNNY. One of Sam’s playgroup buddies (a playgroup Megan and I actually took an active part in starting, which, who are we?) was tired, Sam was playing with the mom’s keys — keys she obviously needed to drive home, and when they were taken from her, RUN, JOEY, RUN; Lila was all done with all of it and just wanted to go to bed, and there we were, screaming and whining kids being lugged out the door like wild turkeys.

Toddlers, I’m sorry, are ridiculous, irrational creatures with no respect for those around them, and no clue about the havoc they cause. It’s a little like living with an infant in terms of cognitive reasoning, but they’re mobile, with the ability to move around and stuff, and it’s just absurd, the way biology allows this to happen. Yet it’s kind of hilarious, because who these kids think they are is beyond me. Every day is a push-pull of “I can do it myself! I don’t need you!” followed by, “WAIT! Where are you going? I NEED YOU, FOR THE LOVE! GET BACK HERE! DID I TELL YOU THAT YOU COULD LEAVE?” and so on.

Incidentally, part of the reason the playgroup happened is because I sort of fell in love with one of the moms after she dropped an F-bomb in My Gym. You can’t be an uptight sanctimonious douche of a mom if you’re going to let it rip like that during separation time, and I liked what I saw there, friends. I LIKED IT.

So! Since now seems to be the time to talk about it, I should once again mention that I’m going to BlogHer, so if you’re going, and you see me, please say hello. I’ll post more pictures next week so that you know precisely what I look like, if you don’t already, but for now, I’ll tell you that I have short hair, sometimes (but not always!) wear glasses and will likely be wearing pink Chuck Taylors during the daylight hours.

I will also tell you that I’m a mixture of amused and horrified by all the panic and prep going on — honestly, I’ve been nervous about precisely none of it, save for what I was going to wear (and uhh, leaving my kid for the first time, but I CANNOT EVEN GO THERE). If you saw my regular wardrobe, by the way, you would know why this is. I mean, I look reasonably put together (are we laughing yet?) during the day, but we’re talking bermuda shorts, Ts and flip flops. This is because I do things like take my kid to farms (blech!) and splash parks and swim lessons and not, say, jaunting around New York with people who will not squeeze their fruit pouch all over my chest and into my bra.

The point is, I was panicked about my wardrobe, not the people. Or the parties. Or the … what else are people panicking about? And people! I’m not even that SOCIAL! But reading all these tweets and exclusivity and private party angst, and I’m just like, DUDE. YO GABBA GABBA! Follow the rules of DJ Lance and we’ll be fine!

1) Do your own thing! When you want to play, but you get left out; When you want to go along, but get left behind; When you want to fit in, but there’s no more ROOOOOOOOOM. It’s better than to let it get you DOWN. (I think this was Foofa’s song and IT FITS)

So basically, if someone’s being assy and rubbing a private event in your face (and listen, they happen, but they happen EVERYWHERE, and no one is super-speshul for being invited to one vs. not), dust yourself off and, if you want to, come find me. I’m sure I’ll be lurking around somewhere awkwardly, probably holding Jennie’s hand. Or you could just go see New York, which is pretty awesome. Well, unless you’re me. I’ve been enough times to know that it just stresses me out, so if you’re that way, too, maybe we can hit the serenity suite. (What? I feel dirty! All those people! And there’s just NO END to the BUILDINGS! I NEED MY OCEAN. WHERE IS MY OCEAN?)

2) Everything is generally more fun when you include everyone! I can even sing this for you if you want to, in Toodee’s voice.

3) Don’t bite your friends. Or, more specifically, be nice. I mean … right? I’m really nice! And super-approachable. Yes, I get weird in large crowds, but that’s because I’m quietly panicking about all the people in the room and wondering where the fire exits are, and I’m not really kidding about that at all. If you approach me one on one, I AM SUPER-NICE, especially once I’ve found the exits and fire extiguishers. And also, a hugger. Oh, and I ask a lot of questions about you. I was a journalist. It happens. I WANT TO KNOW. Just a heads-up that I am super excited to meet you and will hug you. Unless you’re wearing a turban AND a romper, in which case I will probably just stare in abject confusion, but WHAT ARE THE CHANCES OF THAT?

Happy Wednesday!

*Many people, but I like Ryan Adams’ the best.

47 comments July 27th, 2010