A sleep trainer may sound extreme but a good friend of mine had used this trainer and said that she pretty much “fixed” her family life overnight. Well, maybe not overnight and maybe not fixed as she got divorced a few years later–but, I digress. The bottom line is I was desperate and there was no way I was going to be able to allow my child to cry it out (which seemed the only alternative) without someone talking me off a ledge 24 hours a day. So, I talked with my pediatrician and we agreed on a plan that made sense. I still felt guilty, but, also knew that 1) I could fire the trainer five minutes after she came into my house and 2) knew that my mental state was hurting enough that this was probably not only good for me but good for my child. A depressed sleep-deprived mother does not a good mother make.

I will admit that five minutes after the “trainer” entered our home, I wanted to tell her to get out — you know, like, in that scary Poltergeist voice. But, after listening to her “plan” and having her there to hold my hand, it actually didn’t seem so outrageous.  She suggested that my 3-month old didn’t need to be swaddled anymore. WHAT?! Not swaddle. Well, maybe this actually made sense since my daughter hated the swaddle and pretty much kicked out of it every night. I was also told that we had to get rid of her pacifier. That wasn’t really a problem since I was still trying to train my kid to keep it IN her mouth. She would always suck and then spit it out which was hilarious but didn’t do much for her self-soothing. Then the sleep trainer told us that our daughter would have to move out of the bassinet in our room and into her crib in her own room. This was where my head nearly popped off. OUT OF OUR ROOM? OUT OF THE BASSINET? ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE APARTMENT? (Mind you our apartment is only 900 square feet.) Just as I was about to kick the “trainer” out of the door, I thought again about how my daughter’s previously good sleeping habits had reverted to such minimal stretches that NO ONE, including her, was sleeping well. And, hey, what did I have to lose by trying it for one night? We were also lucky in that since we live in such small quarters and her room is a windowless 10X12 box which occurred to me may actually be MORE comforting to her — more womb-like – than sleeping in our big master bedroom.

Well, long story short, the sleep training was actually a great success. I didn’t actually follow everything the “trainer” recommended (like ignoring my daughter’s request for a feeding at 4:00am–um, hello?!) but I followed enough that I felt OK with it. Frankly, it was easy to be OK with it because my daughter responded beautifully. And, I think if she could have talked she would have said THANK YOU for getting me out of that suffocating swaddle and into a real bed with a real mattress and into this nice dark quiet room that takes me back to that incredibly cozy place I lived for 9 months.

I would say the rest is history but, as you know, history is always rewriting itself.

My daughter did remain incredibly happy in her crib for 3 1/2 years. She LOVED her crib. She took incredible naps, slept amazingly well at night (NEVER woke up unless she was sick) and it wasn’t until she was about a month shy of turning 4 that I decided to move her into her big girl bed. It may seem unlikely that someone who sleep trained her child at 3 months would keep her in her crib for so long but my feeling about these things is if it’s not broken, why fix it? And, it really wasn’t broken. 

What I didn’t anticipate was the pressure I would start to get about moving my child into a ”big girl bed.” I ignored it for a long time but when my daughter started to approach four, I did start to cave, thinking that I wasn’t doing right by her–especially since she was on the verge (finally) of being potty trained.  The thing is, my daughter never ASKED for a big girl bed. She knew what one was — she saw big girl beds at friends’ houses — but didn’t really seem especially interested in moving to one. She was that way about potty training too – no interest. I believed it was important to work with her cues (within reason) and had heard disastrous stories about potty training that backfired because it was pushed too early. So, again, hard to believe that the Mom who sleep trained her kid at 3 months allowed her child to almost turn 4 without being potty trained! As luck would have it and my instincts told me (in between the fears) my daughter became fully ready and engaged in potty training about one month before her 4th birthday and she was trained in about one week — all on her own.  

Once the potty training was underway, the big girl bed became more of a topic of conversation. Well-meaning relatives were telling my daughter “next time you visit us, you’ll have to sleep in a big girl bed” and well-meaning friends told me that now that she was nearly potty trained that I would be setting her up for failure by keeping her in a crib.

So, online I went. After much searching — and against my better judgement I bought a brand new beautiful white toddler bed complete with girly bedding and decorative pillows (decorative pillows people – I mean, does a 4-year old need decorative pillows??!!). 

I remember the night we put it together. Except by “we” I really mean my husband. I remember the 4-year-old’s excitement. “Yay! Big girl bed!”  By this point, she seemed REALLY excited about the notion of having her own big girl bed. In addition, getting that big ‘ol crib out of her room gave her more room to actually play in her little space.

Well, wouldn’t you know…the idea of the big girl bed turned out to be MUCH more appealing than the actual big girl bed.  And, so, yadda yadda yadda — it’s been four months and my daughter has NOT slept in her bed all night.  Not ONE time.

At first I was sufficiently on edge about it. After years of putting my daughter to bed without issue and retreating to my sanctuary (otherwise known as the master bedroom)  to be lulled by her steady breathing on the baby monitor while I read my book; I was not prepared to have a visitor in my bedroom every five minutes!

Everyone said that was normal and that after a few days or a week she’d get used to it. She didn’t. And, I tried everything to make that room welcoming (did I already mention decorative pillows??). Tinkerbell pillowcase, fairies on the wall, nightlight…NOTHING was keeping her in that room.

So, I finally retreated to the good ‘ol internet in search of advice for getting your kid to stay in her big girl bed. The advice seemed pretty consistent. Every time your kids comes into your bedroom, you walk her back to her room without getting upset or giving in to any kind of conversation. I was pretty good at the first (after all–this was all new to her–it didn’t seem fair to get angry) but not so good at the latter. I was especially bad in the middle of the night so I had my husband take responsibility for taking her back to bed. From everything I read, it should take no more than TWO WEEKS to train your kid to stay in her bed but you HAVE to be consistent. You HAVE to walk her back to her bed EVERY TIME she comes into your room — no matter how many times it happens. You should remain calm and not engage in conversation. Consistency is key.

It was REALLY hard. Sometimes during those first few nights she would cry as my husband carried her back and we felt AWFUL. I recall my husband telling her over and over again that she was safe and that Mommy and Daddy were in our room if she needed us. But, it didn’t seem to sink in.

After about 10 days, we started to weaken. Most of all, we were just so DARN tired and were losing the energy to walk her back to bed throughout the night. I knew if we weakened that we would lose the battle but we just couldn’t keep it up. I asked a couple of friends for advice and a couple of them said they put gates up to keep their kids in their room and it was quite effective. I began to threaten that we’d put a gate up and while my 4-year-old wasn’t crazy about the idea, with no gate in sight, it seemed an empty threat and not effective. I finally borrowed an actual gate and showed her how it would fit in her door and she was none too pleased. I explained that if she could stay in her big girl bed, we wouldn’t have to use the gate. I even went so far as to buy her presents — a new pair of sassy pink sunglasses to be specific. I offered that all she had to do was stay in her bed for three nights in one week and she would get the sunglasses. She loves the sunglasses. But, she loves Mommy and Daddy’s bed more.

About this time, I began to get used to having my daughter in bed with us. I couldn’t bring myself to put the gate up, envisioning her waking up in the night and panicking that she was trapped in her room (even if we could hear her every move on the baby monitor) and imagining the therapy bills later.  It started to occur to me that maybe she was really scared in her room. Even if she had loved it for all those years, perhaps things were different now. How could I force her to stay somewhere she didn’t really want to be?

And, perhaps, even more than all of this, I began to get used to sleeping with her — to waking up next to her warm sleeping body throughout the night and listening to her rhythmic breathing. I never have to think of checking on her because she is right next to me. If she happens to sleep in uncharacteristically late, I don’t panic that maybe she stopped breathing because I can feel her breathing next to me. Our unexpected family bed has turned into an unsuspecting source of comfort.

Like I said, if you would have told me two years ago that I’d be co-sleeping with my 4-year-old, I wouldn’t have believed it. If you had told me I’d be co-sleeping and actually enjoying it, I’d have told you you were insane.

I’m finding motherhood is like this–an array of constantly shifting paradigms. I’m even beginning to accept it.

I am sorry that I’ve been so neglectful. It’s now been more than three months since I’ve posted. I haven’t forgotten about you. I promise. I think about you often and about how much I miss our time together.

I’m still trying to work some things out but hope to return to you soon.

Thanks for your continued patience…

Jennifer

In this case, it was a second marriage. My husband’s close friend from business school tied the knot for a second time. Not how it sounds at all, E is that salt of the earth kind of guy. His first marriage was never meant to be. Like putting a round peg in a square hole. I didn’t know his first wife well, only meeting her once early on when husband and I were first dating, but, they did seem like a case of opposites attract. Which, I guess can be good in some circumstances. Not in this one. They were together long enough to have a child – a daughter. And, throughout the years, we’ve witnessed E be a dedicated single Dad. Although there was a custody arrangement, E found himself being more of the responsible one and he’s been a rock for his only daughter.

I recall how devastating it was for him when his marriage ended. And, I recall it took him quite some time to “get back on the horse” so to speak. Once he did, we would hear stories here and there of different women he was dating. But, nothing really stuck. Until he met his current bride.

They’ve only been together for less than two years, but, it’s clear they’re a perfect match for one another. Besides both being tall, dark-haired and beautiful, they are clearly kindred spirits. E being the consummate outdoorsman, he finally found a woman who shares his passion for the outdoors and loves adventure. She also clearly loves children in general, and his daughter, in particular. I’m quite certain that was a big factor in E considering marriage.

They had a small ceremony with family to make things legal and this past weekend they held the official reception at their home in Napa Valley. I had not been to Napa in quite some time either and had forgotten how stunningly beautiful it is. Since Napa is a bit of a trek outside of the city, we decided to make a weekend of it and stayed at a lovely B&B only a few miles from the wedding.

The B&B was not exactly posh but certainly pretty – especially the grounds — which were lavish including beautiful rose gardens.

Morning dew

I couldn’t help photographing flowers everywhere we went. Not only on the grounds of the B&B but at the wineries we visited as well. Everything was so lush.

The wedding itself took place in the backyard of E’s house. I had been to his house when he first purchased it several years back and while I recall he had a nice amount of property, I also recall that there was a LOT of work to do. However, when we entered the wedding reception last night, it was amazing to see the transformation. The once rustic, untouched backyard was turned into a virtual fairyland! 

Nice artsy shot taken by my husband

The cocktail reception was extra long – about 2+ hours. Given the fact that I didn’t actually know anyone other than the bride and groom and was not in an especially schmoozy mood, I took the opportunity to take pictures before the sun went down. This is one of my favorites.

The view from the bride and groom's front porch at dusk. Yes, those are rows and rows of grapevines!

 The reception was lovely from beginning to end. The food was deliciously and lovingly prepared by the bride’s girlfriends (amazing!) and the wine (of course) was fabulous. Once dinner was complete, the dancing commenced. it was amazing to see this old rustic barn turned into a platform for booty shaking that even John Travolta would be proud of!

Yes, that is a disco ball. Apparently, the final paint touches were being put on the barn right up to the last hour prior to guests arriving. You'd never know.

All in all it was a fabulous affair and I was so glad to be able to witness such true love by two tremendously deserving people.

On our recent vacation together, where we celebrated your birthday early in the company of your most beloved family members, toasts abound. Your brothers and sisters, stepdaughter and stepson, and finally,  your dearest sons shared their feelings about you and the imprint you’ve made on them as people, husbands, and fathers and on the many others you’ve touched in your life — through your business as a successful jeweler on 47th street and by nurturing treasured friendships you’ve sustained for decades.

Although the floor was open to all, I found myself unable to speak. I’m not usually one at a loss for words but I just couldn’t imagine what I could share, being the person in the family who’s known you for the least amount of time. (Other than your granddaughter who is 3 1/2, but, she’s already known you for her whole life.) I also felt that what I would share,  wasn’t really meant for a group setting.

So, I waited until your official birthday to share those thoughts…

In thinking about a toast I might have given, I harkened back to the first time we met. I recall that your son (my now wonderful husband) was eager for me to meet you and so he took the opportunity to bring me to your  home in Woodstock while I was already in New York for a business trip. I remember the train ride to Woodstock, where I pondered what this meeting would be like. I felt nervous. I hadn’t had such great luck previously. Not that I ever had an official father-in-law, but, I had boyfriends with potential who came with fathers. Fathers who in retrospect – and perhaps even at the time – I could not imagine being a part of a fabric that I called family.

I recall arriving at the train stop, my mind curious about the father I was to meet. I don’t remember seeing you for the first time but I’m certain I remember you hugging your son affectionately and being very cordial to me. I recall the ride was not a long one – nor was it a short one. I remember feeling nervous in the backseat of the car and wondering if I’d regret committing to an overnight stay upon our first meeting.

We pulled up to your home and upon entering, I was greeted by your wife (my now wonderful mother-in-law) – a beautiful woman who was extremely pleasant and reserved. I knew I could only be myself but nonetheless, I hoped I didn’t say the wrong thing. I hoped we all liked one another.

An impressive lunch spread waited for us and I recall we all dove in voraciously. I can remember that initial feeling of awkwardness when you’re trying to figure people out. What I remember more, though,  is 10 minutes into our visit, the questioning and nerves,  those feelings went away — and they never returned. It seemed immediately that we all clicked into place, like placing the last two pieces in a complicated jigsaw puzzle.

 I recall we cruised around the town of Woodstock during our weekend stay and I clearly remember your generosity towards both your son and myself. I remember you insisted on buying me a pair of shoes. I had those shoes for years.

I recall feeling so welcomed that we returned to Woodstock a few months later for a “white Thanksgiving.”

And, of course the rest is history.

I ultimately married your wonderful son and we brought you your 6th grandchild. I wondered if perhaps you’d wished you had a grandson, having 5 granddaughters already, but, you were over the moon with the birth of your youngest son’s daughter and have remained enraptured ever since.

I remember when I was preparing to go back to work toward the end of my maternity leave and we didn’t know how we would arrange the childcare situation financially. I remember your asking me what I would do if money wasn’t a concern. When I suggested that it was, you pressed me again, “What would you do if money wasn’t a concern.”

Your generosity has never been lost on me. Your commitment to your family is incomparable.

On your 80th birthday I thank you for raising such an amazing son who has changed my life in so many ways.  I thank you for reaching out across the miles to check in regularly, for making me feel so welcome and loved, even though I’m not officially your blood, and finally, I thank you for being such an amazing Pop-pop to my treasured little girl.

Ellie and her Pop-pop

Happy Birthday with love,  Jennifer

I was lucky. My medical scare turned out to be nothing. Nothing.

But, oh the places my mind went.

Repeatedly.

I feel so blessed.

Not all women walk out with the same peace of mind that I did today. In fact, far too many don’t. And, it’s just not fair.

It’s weird to feel grateful and sad at the same time. Grateful for my good news while sad for the other women in the same waiting room with anxious husbands and nervous faces who may not have received such positive results.

I don’t take it for granted. Second chances are gifts.

A routine medical test I’ve taken for years without issue has turned up a questionable result. The kind of result that stops you dead in your tracks as you try not to imagine the worst. The kind of result that sends you rushing to “Dr. Google” to search for answers to said questionable result.

I know these kinds of questionable results can often mean nothing. I’ve had ambiguous results on tests before.  But, this is different.  An unfavorable outcome on this particular test would change my immediate landscape and foward-moving path for an undetermined amount of time.

I don’t know how to factor my statistical outcome but simply looking at genetics and overall health, I have reason to not overworry. And, I’ve been trying to do that. Trying to put it out of my head until I can get further tests. Unfortunately, every second feels like a minute and every minute feels like an hour and let’s not even get into what the hours feel like. I have far too many of them between now and when I get my next round of tests.

I’ve often told my husband over the years that I’ve always had this sense that I wouldn’t live beyond 50 years old.  I’ve said it only a handful of times but far too many for him.  Even though I do have a bit of a flair for the dramatic,  I am not so sure what I’ve been basing such an outrageous statement on. And,  since I’ve become a Mom, I’ve really tried to steer my thinking away from such morbid places.

If anything, I’ve become more positive about my overall health and general statistical outcome for longevity as of late. That all came crashing down yesterday when even the slightest doubt was placed in my head.

This morning I popped into the drugstore to pick up some vitamins. Cuz, damnit, even if something were to be seriously wrong, I’m still taking my vitamins!  As I make my way to the back of the store to the pharmacy area, I pass through the aisle that contains all of the greeting cards. For a moment I pause to think about any forthcoming birthdays that I should consider but decide I’m in no frame of mind to stop and shop for birthday cards. As I’m whizzing by the cards, out of the corner of my eye I see this word – CANCER. It immediately catches my eye and I notice a small section of cancer support cards. I’ve been to this Walgreens a million times and NEVER remembering seeing that section.

Is it a sign? Or, am I just more sensitive and noticing this for the first time because it is so on my mind.  

All I know is that the next 76 hours are going to be long ones.  But, at least at the end of it all, I’ll have an answer. For better or worse, I’ll have answer. I sure hope it’s for the better because I can’t bear to think about my not being 100%  there for my child for any length of time - my little girl who needs me healthy and strong for many years to come!

My other hesitation in making the purchase was that I was afraid that we’d get the camera and I’d NEVER do anything with it. I didn’t trust myself to really put the time and energy into it.  But, much to my surprise, I’ve been immersed in the camera manual (which is easily 100 pages) since we got home. I don’t have much free time so I’ve been stealing sleep at night and reading about apertures, ISO sensitivities, and various other camera lingo.  And, I have to say…

I am in love!!

Of course I have a long way to go learning all there is to learn about the camera and who knows how far I’ll ultimately take it, but, right now, I’m having SO much fun.  It helps when you have great subjects to shoot!

Mommy, you really need to get a zoom lens. I'm trying to watch Tigger and Pooh here.

We do need to invest in an additional zoom lens which is a bit of a pain but I LIKE my close ups and the only way I’m able to get one like the above is to get REAL close. That’s fine, but, trying to take a close up of a toddler is like trying to take a shot of a fly – they NEVER stop moving. I was lucky to get a few like the one above.

Next step, stop cutting off head in picture.

I did manage to get a beautiful shot of Ellie and her Daddy on the roof of our apartment building.  My favorite one yet.

Note wool coat on Ellie. "Coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco." -- Mark Twain

We decided to take a little jaunt out to Petaluma today to visit my brother’s place. Even though he and my sister-in-law were out of town, Ellie had a great time visiting with her Nana and Papa and her cousins. She LOVES her cousins. She only has five first cousins in total and three of them live in Connecticut (and are much older) so it’s a real treat for her to see her Petaluma home boys!

Enjoying cookies and conversation by the backyard shed.

My youngest nephew spent most of the afternoon napping but when he finally arose, I couldn’t resist getting some shots of his deliciousness.

Pensive after a long summer's nap.

 So, as you can see, I’m having a lot of fun with my new toy. I’m so bummed that I have to go back to work tomorrow and won’t get a chance to play again until next weekend  (something tells me my fellow cubicle dwellers wouldn’t appreciate my practicing at the office.)

Last Tuesday Ellie wrapped up her first year of preschool. It’s pretty hard to believe since it feels like yesterday that I was feeling sooo anxious about her first day of preschool.  It also feels like yesterday that her response to any question you asked was a demure “o-kay” and she was still nursing her nightly bottle. My easy two-year-old of yesterday has turned into a leggy force to be reckoned with three-year-old and today, she officially became a dove.

I had been feeling very apprehensive about the approaching end of her first year in the butterfly class. Her butterfly teachers were extraordinary. One teacher in particular – Teacher Robb as we all called him – truly  redefined my expectations for everything a teacher could be. And, I was not alone. Parents were throwing around phrases such as the “toddler whisperer” with reference to him and at one point during the year, all of the parents rallied to try and get Teacher Robb to move ahead with the Butterfly class. There are many cases to be made for keeping a teacher with the same class – or looping, as the official term goes – and Robb made a lot of those arguments, but for us parents, we just knew that our children were all tremendously attached to this wonderful kind smart man and given an unusual year of vacated teaching positions at the school, we hoped we could request one more move.

Anyhow, it didn’ t happen and I’ve mostly gotten over it (as you can tell) but it still smarts a little. The thing is, I, too, was attached to Teacher Robb. This same fellow who I was suspicious of at our initial parent gathering (Why would a man be teaching preschool? Why does he keep looking down? Why isn’t he smiling more? ), proved to me once again that first impressions can often be uninformed impressions. This teacher was so incredible smart, calm, nuturing, and engaged with each and every one of those 2-3 year olds in my daughter’s class AND the parents. Basically, he was AMAZING. (There I go again…no, really, I’m over it!)

On Ellie’s last day of school I did my best to be upbeat and positive about her move to the Dove room (the 3-4 year old classroom). As I was driving to the 5:30pm pick up to gather my child and all of her things from the Butterfly room for the last time, I had lots of internal dialogue with myself about how I wasn’t going to cry. There was no reason to cry after all since Ellie was only moving DOWN THE HALL. But, I knew, just as I’d witnessed all year, that behind the door of each classroom’s entrance is a special world – a unique environment created by the teachers. And, I hoped that as excited Ellie was about becoming a Dove, that she wouldn’t be missing that special former place too much.

The goodbye was not easy. In fact, to overcompensate for my propensity toward tears, I started asking questions such as ”How did the last day go?”.  When he immediately told me that there were tears, I thought, “oh please don’t let there be tears.” I kept trying to act as if it were like any other day, any other regular pick up, until Teacher Robb in all his 6 ft. stature after deciding he’d fielded enough of my questions, came over to me, put his arms around me and said “Thanks so much for a wonderful year. Please keep in touch and let me know how Ellie is doing.” All I could get out was “Thank you. You know how I feel and I can’t really talk about it or…” and with that my eyes welled up with tears and I turned away while another teacher standing by looked at me with that “awwwww” face and I pulled it together. After all, this was ELLIE’S last day, not mine. For god’s sake, as the Mom, I’ve got to keep it together, right?

Ellie was cool as a cucumber EXCEPT I could NOT get her to leave the classrooom. She was working away on some artwork and refused to leave until she finished. He suggested that perhaps she was having a hard time leaving. That’s the thing about three year olds, they can’t really tell you how they’re feeling all the time and so you have to infer from their actions what’s going on. Eventually, she was the only Butterfly remaining and Teacher Robb told her that she could take home the two markers she was using and offered her one last “ride” to the door.  He had used this tactic on occasion over the year when Ellie didn’t want to say goodbye. He’d say “Do you want to fly to Mom?” And, he’d pick her up and fly her in the air to me outside by our car or into her car seat. This time, he flew her to the door and into my arms and we began to make our way down the hallway when she said “Oh, oh oh!” as if she forgot something. She swung open the Butterfly door one last time and ran in to give Teacher Robb one last hug which he eagerly accepted.

Flash forward and here we are, 3 days into Ellie’s first week as a Dove.  My guilt is at an all-time high about leaving her there all day. Previously, when I’d bring her into the Butterfly class in the morning, one of her teachers upon seeing us would say “Ellie!” and would ALWAYS be on hand to give Ellie a hug or pick her up when she was especially clingy to help assist with the goodbye. One of our recent rituals involved Ellie giving me a big PUSH out of the classroom – a way for her to feel as if she was CHOOSING for me to leave. Even if we both knew the truth, it worked pretty well. Somedays, when Ellie was having a particularly difficult time parting, one of the teachers would walk her to a window in another classroom so that I could wave goodbye to her on the way out. All of these special touches made me feel really comfortable about having to leave for work.

Now?

I escort her into the Dove classroom in the morning and the teachers barely look up. There is no special welcome, no gregarious “Ellie!” and certainly no hugs.  I  know she’s moved to the “big girl” classroom but geez, she is still ONLY 3 after all! And, it’s been so hard for me to say goodbye to her in the mornings.

She, however, seems mostly fine with this change. She has, however,  been especially difficult this week which I chalk up to the change and I keep trying to talk with her about it. I’ve tried to be much more patient with her outbursts and defiance, assuming that she has to work all day to be the “big girl” and just wants to let loose when she gets home.

I know it’s taking time for me to adjust. I figure it will be at least a couple of weeks before I stop longing for the old classroom, the old teachers, the old ways.  I imagine it will take Ellie at least as long.

That all seems to change when I go to New York.  New York is a hot bed of celebrities, which is no surprise. It’s an amazingly wonderful and huge city where even the most famous can be a chameleon on any given day.

Where do I see all these celebrities you ask? Well, sometimes it’s in restaurants or chance meetings on the street — even one time in an elevator. However, the most concentrated locale that attracts celebrities that I actually run into is the annual Book Expo America — or BEA, as the publishing insiders refer to it.

Having been in publishing for many more years than I care to admit, I have to say, it’s not a very glamorous industry. That may come as a surprise to many who actually think we’re all rolling in the dough (ha!), hobnobbing with famous authors all of the time (sometimes),  and enjoying four hour lunches on the company’s expense account (more like two hours and occasionally).  In fact, on any given day, most of us are toiling away — working long hours, dealing with unhappy authors, and trying to manage the multitude of processes and pieces  (with small budgets) that go into publishing and marketing a book.

And, most of us love what we do. But, glamorous? Not so much.  

However, once a year, our industry gathers for the annual BEA. This huge show which draws thousands of people (more than 20,000 attended this year) from all over the world allows publishers an opportunity to showcase all of their big books for the upcoming Fall season and recently published blockbusters. Nonfiction, fiction, children’s titles, religious books, even foreign language publishers have a place at this energetic show. It’s a great opportunity for booksellers, librarians, publicists, and want-to-be authors to connect with publishers. (*Note: For wanna be authors, it’s generally not a fabulous idea to try to sell your book to an unsuspecting staff member in the publisher’s booth unless you’re pretty certain you’ve got the next hot thing – but, more on that later.)

Much has changed over the years. So many of the  independent bookseller buyers that used to roam the halls and visit the numerous publisher booths have diminished due to the Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Borders of the world putting them out of business. And, the days of publishers giving away hoards of advanced proofs to anyone and everyone making their way through the booths has changed as well. It used to be that if you hit the floor early enough, you were guaranteed to pack your tote bag with all of the hot new releases. You might break the bank on the shipping costs to get all of those advance proofs back to your home or office but for the most part, it was well worth it.

These days, with publishers consolidating, laying off, and generally trying to be fiscally conscious in our ever uncertain and changing environment, free advance proofs have  become a bit of a relic. That is, unless you can prove you are a legitimate bookseller, librarian, or member of the press – OR, are willing to wait in a line for 45+ minutes. Then you’re in luck.

I have never waited in line to obtain an advanced proof or other giveaway or to meet a famous author. Until this year, that is.

As I alluded to earlier in the post, BEA is a hot bed of celebrity action. It seems that no matter how famous someone is in their given profession - sports, music, acting, politics – they ALWAYS want to write a book. It’s a given.  And, many of them come to BEA to promote said book or simply to perform – cuz you know, someday they might want to write a book.

This year was no different. Starting with the keynote delivered by Barbara Streisand, the laughs over pastries as John Stewart provided hilarious anecdotes during breakfast, and many other celebrities and celebrity authors sandwiched in between, the show was crawling with them.

This year was an exciting one for me. I got an opportunity to see famed television journalist Bob Woodruff – simply walked right past him– locked eyes — and didn’t even register until my publicist colleague started bouncing up and down saying “OMG, that’s that journalist…Bob what’s his name…omg…”. He looked terrific, have to say. I saw Pele and Kristian Alfonso, who has played Hope on the famed Days of Our Lives for years. She looked pretty amazing.

I also got an opportunity to meet Louis Gossett, Jr. who just published his own memoir with my publishing house and did a signing in our booth. The name of his book An Actor and a Gentleman is right on the money. He could not have been more gracious when I met him – such a lovely man. (For those of you who are old enough to remember him from An Officer and a Gentleman, he was nothing like the character he portrayed, Gunnery Sargent Emil Foley).

Heading into BEA, I hadn’t been thinking much about meeting celebrities. I knew Louis Gossett Jr. would be signing in our booth so I looked forward to hopefully meeting him but other than that, I was more focused on my work responsibilities. I had forgotten how fun this show can be!

At some point during my first morning in the booth, a colleague rushed up to myself and one of our sales reps and asked how old we were. A bit of an unusual query but we answered obediently. It was then that she informed us that a heart throb from our earlier years was making an appearance at 11:30am in the Simon & Schuster booth. Now, for many of you potentially reading this, this will probably not mean a thing. But, for anyone who remembers the famed “Jessie’s Girl” pop hit or Dr. Noah Drake from General Hospital, you know who I’m talking about. And, you know it’s kind of a big deal. And you KNOW I waited on my first ever line for 45 minutes to get this:

Rick Springfield - looking good!

 I may have also gotten a signed CD to boot. Which, I’m sorry to say, isn’t all that good. But, who cares, right? And, yes, he’s written a memoir too. Like I said, everyone wants to be published at some point.

Which, brings me back to an earlier point about accosting unsuspecting booth staff with your brilliant book idea. Occasionally, there is a brilliant idea or author discovered at BEA. But, mostly you get queries such as this one (and of course as you’re trying to get out of the booth and head to an appointment):

Want-to-be author (to me): I would like to talk with someone about being represented.

Me: Do you mean you need an agent?

Want-to-be author: No, I want to be represented by a publisher.

Me: Oh, ok.  What is your book?

Want-to-be author: It’s about shoes. (Looking at me dead seriously.)

Me: Um, Ok. What about shoes? Is it fiction? Non-fiction? We only publish non-fiction.

Want-to-be author: It’s a memoir about my shoe collection.

As a very funny man who I met on the shuttle bus said, “She better be one darn good writer.”

And there you have it – BEA 2010. Over and out.

On the flip side, I WAS excited about spending more one-on-one time with my little girl. As a full-time working Mom, a lot of my time with her is spent getting her fed, dressed and ushered to and from school with short breaks from our routine on the weekend and weeknights.

As luck would have it, my daughter had a birthday party to attend the first morning, right after my husband left. It was a beautiful, sunny, warm day and Ellie and I were both looking forward to the Sunday morning festivities at a new party place we’d both never been.  The party was for one of Ellie’s good friends in preschool and Ellie  had been talking about it incessantly all week. Not only was she excited to celebrate her friend’s birthday with her but she had also caught wind of the fact that a certain purple dinosaur was to make a special appearance.

I was excited, too. Not only to watch Ellie have a great day, but, also to connect with the other parents and catch up with them while the kids jumped and frolicked on the big inflatable  slides and in the bouncey house.

Upon entering, Ellie squealed with joy seeing her other little friends. And, she was quick to bestow the birthday girl with her birthday present.

After a quick signing of a waiver basically acknowledging that there are risks to playing on big inflatable bouncey thingies and that you as the parent assume them all, you’re off to have some fun! (And hopefully don’t end up retrieving your kid out of the bouncey house cuz she got kicked in the head.)

We followed the pack of three-year-olds and their parents into the room of inflatables–big inflatables–loud inflatables. Turns out they were all being run on what sounded like large generators. Upon entering, Ellie became afraid. She turned to me and said “It’s smelly in here.” It’s true my child, it smells like a big rubber in this room.  I tried to tell her that she’d get used to the smell but it was really bothering her. She then commented that it was ”sooooo loud”. By now she was clinging to me while the rest of the kids ripped off their shoes and socks and one by one made their way into the bouncey house. I pointed to Ellie’s friends to show her how they weren’t afraid and were actually having a lot of fun. I proceeded with ”Come on, sweetie. Let’s take your shoes off.” Which she let me do, begrudgingly. I guess I thought if I just acted normally that she’d catch on and stop clinging to me like a cat whose paws had unexpectedly come in contact with water.

I thought (hoped) I was making progress and then HE made his appearance. The big purple dinosaur entered the room and made his way in our direction and waved directly at Ellie.  He didn’t actually look anything like the Barney on television. He was purple and I guess he was a dinosaur but he sure didn’t look like any character I’d seen before.

Despite Ellie’s exclamations from the week leading up to the party regarding how she was going to give Barney a “big hug and a kiss”, when she actually saw this big purple character, she pretty much lost her mind — and I don’t mean in a good way. Her already trepidatious state turned quickly to one of terror. She was screaming and clinging to me like I’d never seen. If she could have, I think she would have crawled back into my womb. She was that afraid.

I quickly carried her out of the room–shoeless– and back to the front lobby where the employees were working behind a welcome desk. I explained what happened and they said that it sometimes takes kids a little while to get comfortable. So, I thought we’d wait a few minutes and try again.  In the meantime, several more of Ellie’s friends arrived which I thought would be incentive for her to go back into the play area.  So, we tried one more time and again, major FREAK OUT. I had just enough time to sneak back in, grab her sneakers, and get out quickly.

By now, Ellie was telling me that she wanted to go home. I couldn’t believe it. We had only been there for 10 minutes. She had been looking forward to the party all week.  This was her best little friend in school. I was really eager to catch up with some of the other Moms.

But, let’s face it, when your kid looks like this:

Barney is scary!

You hit the road. And, as a sensitive person myself, I could really empathize with her fear. I wanted her to know that I would never make her stay anywhere that she wasn’t comfortable — even if it seemed like it should be fun for her.  At first I wasn’t sure if leaving was the right answer. What if we got in the car and she changed her mind? What if I wasn’t giving her enough time to acclimate?

Ultimately, I made what I thought was the best decision. And that was to leave. Over the course of the day, we discussed Barney no less than 100 times. (Apparently, she’s inherited my tendency to obsess about things too.) “Barney won’t hurt you?” “Barney is scary.” “Where’s Barney?” And on and on and on. And, it wasn’t until many hours later that she finally asked to go to the party and I had to explain that the party was over.

In the end, I was able to distract her from the purple monster by taking her to the local park where she could swing, slide, and be confidently far away from all scary sounds, smells and monsters.  And, soon enough, my happy little girl was back.

Glee from being free of Barney