It took a long time for my brain to switch to work mode. I was so used to carrying around diapers and fourteen days worth of crackers that I often walked in to client meetings and sighed as I shoved aside four diapers, wipes, three fruit leathers and a nondescript item from what appears to be of a “gummy” family. Or once was.
I have a sound clip from 1997 that features my college roommates and I interviewing each other on “what we wanted to be doing in five years.” I’ve stumbled across that clip a few times since graduation, always giggling to myself and wondering if any of the other girls thought about those goals.
I walked by a glowing extremely pregnant woman. Her friend handed her a bag with some baby booty in it. I chuckled. I couldn’t help myself. I CHUCKLED. They looked up at me and I recovered, smiled, and continued on my way.
In my head I was picturing what the card would say. I chuckled again. It could be any of the following:
**April, 2013** Hello and welcome! If this is your first time here, I’d love to meet you. I’ve recently written about being diagnosed with Adult ADHD, spent much of last year traveling and went back to work full time as a Program Manager for Media at a large global company. My children are 8 and 6 and I love talking to people with similar stories. Be sure to say hi and pull up a chair. I’ll grab the coffee. (Or tea for my UK friends with milk and sugar.)**
I walked in to the keynote, searching the thousands of faces to find “my people.” I wonder in and out of tables bumping in to elbows and computers. I recognize a few features but I continue to bump, walk, bump, walk looking for my table.
The last vacation the mister and I went on was August 2003. People? Do the math. That’s over five years ago. FIVE FUCKING YEARS AGO. In that time we’ve a) purchased a house b) got a masters degree c) had a baby d) sold the house e) moved to portland f) moved to Seattle g) had another baby h) started a business.
My god, people, who out of anyone that you know, needs a vacation more than we do? Don’t answer that. This is about me, after all.