Life at the conference
I used to run conferences for a living, traveling around the country, staying at beautiful hotels, pounding pavement, tempting fate. I closed down the Tonga Room at the Fairmont in San Francisco, singing in harmony with two friends, blowing kisses to the maiden on the stage. I carried a co-worker down Bourbon Street at three in the morning, helping her through the after-effects of one too many hurricanes. I once checked my dinner at the Rainbow Room and two of us drained three bottles of champagne while dancing to the old-school swing band.
This week, I’m in Orlando at a conference. I have not left the hotel. I’m going to bed at 7:30pm, trying desperately to cure my baby-induced sleep deprivation.
What a difference a decade makes.
[tags]parenthood[/tags]
