Fifth Time Is The One That Will Hurt The Most

This post is about me, because once a year I go to my association's big convention, and there are about four zillion things that go on while we're there. I either give you a brief rundown now, or you run the risk of catching me with a drink in my hand and I'll talk about it for an hour.

This is my fifth year. Last year, it was the longest I had been away from Amelia. The year before I was 38 weeks pregnant and shockingly enough my OB wouldn't let me run around Las Vegas. The year before was the last time I did it with help. (Insert long, rambling bananas internal politics story that ends with me being the only person in what had been a four person department.) The first year I was so over my head since I'd only been there three months, that I barely remember it.

I don't want to say too much, but I will give you my goals I have every year.

• Enough coffee and alcohol so I don't hurt someone
• The staff generally not killing each other
• Not getting fired for telling off my boss
• Remember to bring the black flats for the last two days of the show because they're already stretched out and are the only shoes that will fit

This year I had to add "No one dies by the end of the week" not because I was going to kill someone, but because three (technically four) people I work very closely with to make this week work ended up in the hospital. The first is the one I'd ask people to keep in your thoughts, even though you don't know them. The woman is on our Board and I work with her closely. She had undergone numerous (I believe at least 6) IVF treatments, plus additional pregnancies, and they had finally figured out she had a blood disorder that was causing her to miscarry. She delivered her son at 20 weeks, weighing 2 pounds. Thankfully, his lungs look at least 5-6 weeks farther along and he's gaining weight at a good rate. She had some sort of complication (there's really only so many details you want from a work colleague) and they'd had to put her under general anesthesia, so she wasn't awake and her husband couldn't be there for the birth. But she took much longer to recover than a routine c-section.

The other people, while very serious, were not quite as life threatening as a 20 week old baby.

The rest of the week went like this. If we controlled 100% of what was happening, there may have been a few bumps but everything looked good on the outside. If we controlled 60%, like when we were in a nightclub for our awards and it really didn't work because of things out of our control, people generally had a good time and said we did the best we could. If we controlled 95% of something, the other 5% would blow up so badly that no one would remember the rest of it.

I walked into one of my many meetings and the people in the room (all are people I've know for the whole time I've been with the association) look at me and say "You look like you could use a drink. Do you want some Scotch, we've got it right here?" Which is one of the reasons I love our membership. And thankfully it was at 5:30pm, and I think it's the law in Vegas that you have to have a drink in your hand by that time. For the record I said no because I hadn't eaten anything since an 8am meeting in the same room.

Getting back to fun Amelia things, she's in love with her trains, obsessed with "reading", and needs to have all her Sesame Street characters together before she can go to sleep at night. Her hair is officially out of control, so this weekend we will be doing her first haircut.

I would like to point out that this was almost exactly a year ago. Where did my baby go and who replaced her with a miniature teenager? She has started to argue with us about what she wears. She tells me specific colors and items, but she tells Matt things are just "too big" if she doesn't feel like wearing it. God help us when she gets to be an actual teenager.