I stumbled over BlogHer.org last year. I was intrigued. There was an announcement about their upcoming conference. I drooled, but California was just too far and besides, what business did I have going to a blogging conference anyway. I didn’t even have a blog.
A year later, I have 3, one for my family, one for my ramblings and one for my business. None get a lot of attention, but I’m proud of them none-the-less.
Blogging speaks to me. It is my kind of writing. I love people and I love to know about their lives. Blogs provide snipets or sometimes entire episodes of peoples lives. I’m fascinated.
I love to tell stories too and I’m told I’m pretty good at it, yet some how blogging seems to fall to the bottom of my task list even though it brings me great pleasure.
So, when I saw the announcement for Blogher 2007. I was tickled, then panicked.
I futzed. I fussed. I stalled. I finally asked a friend for a push and she came through, so I’m going.
Can’t friggin wait.
An night without the diaper bag. It started some six years ago, an evening out for 7 women with young kids (at the time, the majority were infants). Our common tie is a university that for a considerable length of time was an important part of our lives. Most of us worked there in various roles (or married someone who did) at one time or another. Some went to school there. While it was a starting point, we’ve all moved on, and the ties that bind now run much deeper.
We all have kids and we’ve all been through hell and back. There was infertility that lead to adoption. Infertility that lead to births and even an oops. There is ADHD, PDD and a visual impairment. There are annoying spouses, and troublesome parents (our own and our spouses). There are work/life balance issues and money constraints. Three are full time stay at home moms. 4 are work at home moms Three own our own businesses and one is a professional writer.
One a month we get together sans kids (and thus their diaper bags) for a relaxing dinner and gabfest. Very soon we’ll need to change the name as shortly, none of the kids will be in diapers.
We tell stories and share gossip, but there is a fair amount of goods exchanged too. For example, I have yet to purchase clothing for my youngest child. He wears fantastic hand me downs. The group had a good laugh recently when we looked at photo of my son and realized he was wearing pajamas that originally belonged to the oldest child in the group. My boy was the sixth owner and last in the group to wear said pajamas. As with most kids clothes, they out grow them before they out wear them, so those P.J.’s made their way to another little boy outside our group. We also share toys, those that are out grown and those that will never be used. But the sharing isn’t limited to the kids. We have lent dresses, jewelry and once and a while volunteered a spouse for assorted duties.
The spouses don’t really know each other and it is probably better that way. Their lack of relationship gives us a place to talk freely about their annoying habits and other foibles. We’re all very different, but that is part of what makes the group work so well. The different perspectives enrich all of us.
Three years ago, I moved an hour and a half away from the area where the other six live. I can count on one hand the number times the distance has been too much for me to attend. I look forward to this night out all month. I’m working hard to make new connections where I now live, but The Diaper Bag Gang will always be a very important part of my life.
I have two kids.
They have given names. Formal sounding monikers that appear on their birth certificates.
Names chosen to honor people who have influenced my husband and I.
Names that I utter forcefully when I am angry.
They have nick names. Shorter versions of their given names. Names that make it easier for their friends to call them. Names that are more casual.
As their mother, I take it as my God given right to make up additional names for them.
And I do. Frequently. It is a wonder they even know who they are.
Names that make them smile now.
Names that will make them cringe when they are tweens.
Names that will always make me smile.
Mrs. Tinkabinka
Tink
RishaTroo
Fisharoo
Fish
Cuddlebug
Snugglebug
Mr. Dude
Mr. Dudapudamus
Mr. Pudaduamus
Puda
Puda Duda
TinkyToes
Gigglepus
Mr. Sqigglypants
