Conference Menstruation Syndrome

I know, I know, you are reading the title and are all “what?!!?” or you are nodding your head in agreement that you, too, suffer from the deplorable condition.

I am sure that you have read one million and one recaps of people and their BlogHer experience, which is funny because I am pretty sure that one million and one people didn’t attend, but whatever. (Also this is run on sentence day in Domestic Extraordinaire land, so after you read this, go forth and celebrate….you know with incorrect usage of commas, dots, and parenthesis)

About two weeks before the conference I checked my phone to see when I was due for my “monthly visitor.” (Also you have to totally say “monthly visitor” in hushed tones because that is how our school nurse said it.) (And yes I totally use my phone to keep track of my cycles-doesn’t everyone?) When the app opened a box was there greeting me in the middle of the screen (you know after the screen where they tell you to upgrade to the non free version so you can have access to charts, graphs, and other feelings) that told me that I was 67 days late.

Yes, you read that right sixty seven.

I quickly closed down the app and opened it back up again. That number was still there. 67.

I may have freaked out a bit at the freak out my husband was going to do when he found out that I may be carrying his next heir. Men seem to get testy about “scares” when they have had their manly bits (okay okay they aren’t bits, I totally didn’t say bits) ripped open, cut apart, burned, stitched and then put back together again. I also may have gone out to buy a pregnancy test or four to confirm the fact that I was with or without child.

After wasting supporting pregnancy testing companies and realizing that they were all false and also learning just how long I could hold my pee (Let’s just say I am so very proud of my bladder at this point), I realized what was up. Yet again I was suffering from Conference Menstruation Syndrome.

Now I don’t usually mind if I am late, but 67 days and a conference in which I was going to be working, wasn’t really making me too happy. I sat down (possibly on the toilet) and had a long talk with my “monthly visitor,” except I refer to her as Aunt Flo.

“Aunt Flo, you really need to show up before I board the plane for San Diego. It’s not fair to other family members that want to go along with me on this trip. Family members that will be helpful, not leave me bloaty, or possibly stain my clothes. It’s not like you can help me schlep my camera equipment around or contribute to the cost of taxis. Plus, I am pretty sure that all of the other bloggers would make fun of me because I couldn’t leave my aunt at home. So either pony up some dough so you can get your own hotel room, or make your visit before I have to go.”

And friends, I am happy to report that Aunt Flo decided not to follow me to the conference. I am so thankful because it would have been awkward. “Oh hai so and so I’m Heather….have you met my Aunt Flo?” Also I am pretty sure that by my Aunt getting attention it would cause other Aunts to think that they could attend and well that wouldn’t be cool. Although we could start a support group for those suffering from Conference Menstruation Syndrome and possibly work through some of the anger that we hold towards our Aunts who don’t send birthday cards, but sometimes show up on our birthdays.

Plus, if my Aunt came with me I might be too embarrassed to have captured this


or this


and possibly this


So in conclusion, many thanks to my dear Aunt Flo for actually listening to me and arriving 68 days late and I am sure that the husband thanks you for many other reasons.

Disclosure-I was contracted by the Clever Girls Collective to photograph some events for them in San Diego in exchange for attending BlogHer & the expenses that were associated with it. They did not, however, spring for the numerous pregnancy tests that I took pre conference and all opinions expressed in this post are my own. You didn’t really think that a company would really want a Lady Gaga look alike in that pose of the photo above be representative of their company would you?

All photos were taken by me at the I’m with the Brand Party in San Diego at the Hotel Solamar in the Gas Lamp District. It was bomb, yo!

Flashback Friday-Get Your Mind Out of the Gutter Edition

October is a really rough month for me as my dad’s birthday is smack in the middle of it, so today I am taking a break for the dad stories to bring you a flashback from my days as a Navy wife.

I am pretty sure you all know, but if you don’t, my husband served six years in the Navy.

Which means I served six years as a Navy wife, which is no small feat.

Jeremy’s ship was gone more days than it was home and so the community of wives from his ship was something that was needed.

You become friends with people that in any other life you probably wouldn’t be friends with. These women are your lifeline. You knew that you could count on them no matter what because they got it, they understood, and they were always there.

When the ship was on one of its deployments, a group of us gals decided to have weekly dinners together to drink lots of wine let the kids play and have some laughs.

One particular dinner we were at my friend Sally’s* house for pasta night.

The jar of sauce was stubborn. We smacked it, ran it under hot water, tapped the top of it with a butter knife.

No matter what we did that stupid jar of sauce would not open.

All of the sudden a lightbulb went off and I asked Sally if she had a rubber husband.

All of the room just stopped and everyone looked at Sally.

Sally’s face was red. Her jaw had dropped. She started to stammer out words that we couldn’t quite understand.

Finally after what seemed like an eternity she said very sternly to me, “Heather, I just don’t see how that is any of your business and how this relates to this at all!” as she gestures to the whole kitchen filled with women.

I was shocked and I am sure that my jaw hit the floor, you know after I realized what she was talking about.

I happened to look down into the open drawer next to me and lo and behold…..the rubber husband!

I grabbed it out of the drawer, snatched the jar of sauce from another friend’s hand, opened the jar and proclaimed, “THIS is a rubber husband!” and walked out of the kitchen laughing so hard.

As I walked out of the room I heard a roar of laughter and poor Sally defending herself.

You learn lots of things when you are lumped together with people from all over the country, but none was ever as funny as learning that little tidbit of information.

P.S. This is a rubber husband
This is a Rubber Husband

*Sally’s name really wasn’t Sally, you had to know that when I put the * next to it…right?