Our Comcast internet access went down Wednesday so my internet time has been limited. Therefore, I’m on a forced blogging hiatus. Send your hate mail to Comcast. The worst of it is, they won’t be out to fix it until Tuesday afternoon. They’ve really got us by the cables.

Also — happy anniversary, honey. Aren’t you glad the internet sitch has impeded my ability to write a long, sappy anniversary post?

On January 19, 2007 I wrote a post about being notified that school crossing guards would be discontinued in our school district. Instead of guards, the district provided bus transportation to all of the students who live close enough to walk to school.

Tuesday, WCAV CBS 19 came out to interview me for a follow-up story that is planned to air Friday, August 17. Tune in!

When the situation first came to light, I was outraged at the waste of money and energy as well as the extra gasoline and pollution caused by the buses dispatched to pick up children who live just houses away from the elementary and middle schools.

My daughter, a member of the generation that is hyper-aware of our impact on the environment, continued to walk to school the remaining four months of school, in protest of the crossing guard situation. Admittedly, on really rainy days she rode the bus a time or two despite our proximity to her school; she had never ridden a school bus before and the novelty of it was attractive. She quickly got over it.

School begins again August 22, next Wednesday. Will there be crossing guards? NO. Not until some time in September. I learned from WCAV that even though the district has had seven months to put the guards through a two-day training program, this has not been completed, or even, at this writing, scheduled.

Yesterday, we were delivered the bus schedule for our student, the walker. She immediately said, “I’m not riding the bus!”

Bring back the crossing guards, Albemarle. It’s better for everyone.

All the relevant posts:

Crossing Guards Illegal in Albemarle County
No More Crossing Guards in Albemarle County
Crossing Guard Update
The Crossing Guard Sitch: An Update

At Blogher, (and I promise I’ll stop writing about it soon) one of the speakers talked about “outing the lurkers” on your site. It’s not as aggressive as it sounds because what the speaker was really talking about is inviting your readers to speak up.

Now, this is a blog that began for the St. Louis audience, as an extension of the writing I was doing about shopping and the like for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. It began and still is, primarily a personal blog where I attempt to share what I’ve learned as a working mom and as a PR professional, to those who happen to stop by for a read.

And sometimes it’s just to share something hilarious that happened with the kids.

So, to the readers, commenters and lurkers alike, what would you like to see in this space?

On my recent unexpected layover at that armpit of an airport, Dulles International, I had time for a pit stop. When I entered the restroom I was puzzled by a sound that seemed out of place but yet strangely familiar. Then, I recalled the noise from my distant past and realized some poor soul was using a breast pump a few stalls to my right. As I practiced the time-honored hover, my heart wept for that mom, relegated to the disgusting environment of a public, much-traveled and infrequently cleaned bathroom stall to keep nursing her baby while traveling.

With all the indignities we willingly suffer while traveling, the barefoot stroll through security, the random pat-down, the older folks with artifical hips and other bionic parts pulled over for a full search, the lack of attention to the traveling nursing mom is a mistake. What about the mothers forced to travel without bottled or stored breast milk after liquids were banned as carry-on safe. And don’t forget the moms who had to sample their own breast milk in the security queue to prove it wasn’t some toxic substance.

You know, we have separate facilities for smokers in airports, we have the high-falutin’ “clubs” for the high-rent travelers, why is it so difficult to have a small, clean room for nursing mothers in every terminal. It could be the size of a broom closet — I don’t think anyone would care, and it certainly wouldn’t be costly. Come on Ameda, Evenflo and Playtex! Buck up and start sponsoring these rooms in airports. Why not? Think of the advertising potential. Thousands of traveling moms and future moms exposed to your care of traveling mothers.

Who will get there first?

At my last post, I was stuck at Dulles airport. Eventually I got out of there and to St. Louis,  but not before my shoe turned my heel into hamburger. It’s been sickeningly hot in St. Louis, the kind of heat that does not cool off at night. The heat and possibly something else caused my feet to swell and none of my shoes to fit. It was delightful.

To the guy clipping his fingernails on the Avis shuttle: EW! Stop it!

To the dad letting his three-year-old hover at the edge of the baggage claim carousel making me a nervous wreck: Are you INSANE?

To the airline that has so far misplaced my luggage: Please find it, this was the last straw in a series of unfortunate events.

I don’t know why I’m surprised, especially after reading this Newsweek article last night. Almost 30 percent of all flights are delayed. I’m stuck at Dulles for two hours making the 6:30am flight from Charlottesville not worth it at all. Remind me never to attempt the early trip to STL again.

At Blogher, I met up with three other tall chicks . . . and one short one to pose for this funny photo.

From left, Ruth Dynamite, me, Kristin Darzugas and my new friend Stacy Libby.

I liked Stacy the minute she said, “I’m not a salad mom. Are you a salad mom? Will you eat cheeseburgers and french fries with me?” Yes, that’s how I like to make friends, too.

Down in front is Elisa Taub, also our photo director. Thanks to Elisa for the hilarious photo!

Tags: Blogher07

Hey sweetheart,

Did you know that’s the first name I ever called you, sweetheart, as they handed you to me all tiny, sweet and round-faced the day you were born?

Today, you’re eleven years old. It’s hard to believe, even though you’ve spent the last two months telling people you’re eleven, already. I think you just couldn’t wait to be a little older, to be closer to the age you look.

You’ve been asserting your independence this year, pushing back when we try to make you adhere to the rules you think are for younger kids. You’ve not been afraid to let us know when you need more attention, though. You’re sort of caught in that spot of wanting to be a grownup but still liking being our little girl. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve gone back to calling Dad, ”Daddy.”

You’ve gotten much more engaged in things I don’t really understand, like Naruto and Tamigachis. That’s OK; I know you think the fact that I’m a blogger is weird.

I humiliate you when I dance, but that doesn’t stop you from joining me to shake it down during Fridays after Five. Among all the downtown hippies and pseudo-celebrities I guess you figure nobody cares whether your mom can dance. Thanks for still making time to hang out with me; I know those days will not last.

You’ve been a big help as a ten-year-old, painting the kitchen and the deck with me, cooking, taking care of the Clovinator and watering the plants. I hate to remind you but in this house, with age comes responsibility. Before long, you will be in charge of your own laundry.

You’re still married to routine, any deviance from your schedule can upset the whole works. We’ve been better about acknowledging that, and I admire your commitment to your exercise plan. If only I could be as ordered as you are — then again, I think I know where you get it.

This year will be the last your brother will live with us year-round. Try to remember this: you may find that you miss him when he’s gone. Even though he gives you a hard time, I can tell he’s starting to appreciate you as a person, not just an annoying little sister. Hang onto that; he’s an important ally in the war against the parents.

There are so many things I admire about you at this age; you have more self-confidence than a lot of adults I know and are still as fearless as you were at five. I think you’ll hold onto these traits through adulthood and someday will lead people with great skill, bravery and order.

Happy Birthday, kiddo.

Love,

Mom

Last night I watched part of High School Musical with the girl for the gazillionth time. There was a scene with the coach, Zac Ephron’s character’s dad and I almost said, “That guy looks my age. He can’t possibly have a kid in high school.”

D’oh.

The boy enters his senior year in a few weeks. And, newsflash from my parents: a classmate of mine from grade school just became a grandmother.

Whoa.

Let’s just say I forget how old I really am. Born in 1970, I have a (size 10, flat) foot planted firmly in Generation X but in Penelope Trunk’s column The Brazen Careerist in last week’s The Hook, it seems I may be more Y than X.

I scored a 17 in her quiz. What generation does your online interaction say you’re a part of?

Among all the ladies and germs at Blogher, I picked up a cold. It made its presence known around 3a.m. Monday and I’ve been fighting it valiantly ever since. Funny how when you have a cold, everyone’s your doctor. I’m following my usual regimen of many cups of tea, Cold Eeze and DayQuil by day, NyQuil by night. No matter what, a cold just takes time. I took half a sick day today, a rarity for me and got some extra rest and a second hot shower.

The Cold Eeze came recommended by a friend whose mom is a nurse. I want to believe it works but the zinc leaves such a horrible taste in my mouth I feel like I’ve been licking a lifeguard’s nose.

What do you do to fight a cold?