Now that I’ve 70% recovered, I feel I can finally talk about how life tried to end me two weekends ago. I thought for the longest time that my plane flight from hell was one of the worst experiences I had been through with a kid. But it was just a little warm up for the monumental cluster that was the last two weeks of June.
It all started when I went back to work right before our largest event of the year. Honestly that was rough, but after the mental onslaught of the first day, I started to get my bearings and felt like I could take on whatever the job threw at me. What I didn’t take into account is what the REST of my life was planning to throw at me. First up; the toddler birthday party.
I kind of made the mistake of doing a really good job with his 2nd birthday party, so I felt the need to one up myself just because that’s the competitive type of person I am. So for birthday #3, Elliott got the dino-mite treatment. A dinosaur bounce house, fossil dig and BBQ. Truly, just one of those three things would have made me exhausted for weeks, but I did all three. The only way I pulled it off was because Teeny was in town. All in all, things went well. But I have to say, a bouncy house is like a toddler Thunderdome. Thankfully, the only one who came out bloody was my own child.
The look on his face when he saw the bouncy house was totally worth it.
Since Benji refused to be left out of the celebration, he decided that he would roll over for the first time on the morning of E’s party. And anyone who has had a baby knows what this means. NO ONE SLEEPS. I mean, we just got a rad new skill, so let’s practice it all day and night, right? So, the night after the toddler party when I all I wanted was a few hours of shut eye, I pretty much got none. Woof.
Then no less than a day later, sickness swept through the Hubner household. And it took EVERYONE out. Baby, brother, mommy, daddy — even poor, visiting Teeny. So, remember that part about not sleeping because of baby’s big milestone? Let’s just add some more sleep deprivation on top of it for a big you’re-never-sleeping-again sandwich. Because I was either up with a snotty, coughing baby or couldn’t sleep because every time my head hit the pillow my lungs and throat started to explode.
Benji enjoyed the party. He also was worn out from all that rolling over.
By the time Monday after the party rolled around, I was toast. I think it was that evening that I had a full on mommy meltdown. I literally collapsed in the middle of our hallway, rolled up into a ball, and cried my eyes out. But you know what? Life wasn’t done throwing garbage my way yet.
By Tuesday morning, I had lost my voice completely. Before work’s biggest event of the year. The event where I was going to be responsible for talking to media, on camera and on radio, over and over and over again. And what topic did they choose to focus on? A totally serious one — where I had to have my ish together or else I might do something detrimental to my organization. So what did I do? I gargled salt water, drank gross tea, sprayed myself down with Chloroseptic, and prayed I wouldn’t screw it up. Then I drug my exhausted, voiceless ass to no less than nine interviews. By the end, I could talk about security and cosplay prop policies with my eyes closed. Which honestly, is all I wanted to do.
Then came the con. Last year was my first experience at a comic convention, and needless to say the energy that comes from simply being in the same space as over 100,000 people is beyond exhausting. Add illness, an infant and being mired in the social media comment swamp for three days straight, and by the time Sunday rolled around I could barely move.
Superman took on the dark side at the con.
The good news is, I’m on the other side. The other good news is I never plan to do that again. At least Superman-Maui-Skywalker had a good time.
