Yesterday was Cordy's first day of first grade. We visited her school the day before that to help prepare her for what was to come. She saw her special needs teacher and reacquainted herself with the classroom. Then we went down the hall to meet her first grade teacher and tour the room.

Cordy was shown where her desk is in her new classroom, as well as where to hang her bag and where the computers were located. (The computers were of highest importance to her, of course.) She noticed her name was left off of a list of names on the chalkboard, and promptly asked her teacher to correct the error.

Then yesterday came, and Cordy picked up her loaded backpack for her first bus ride of the year. There were no tears or hesitation - she happily jumped on the bus and kissed Aaron and I goodbye.

And then I waited, hoping for no call from the school.

To my relief, the phone remained silent. Cordy arrived home in the late afternoon, looking far less put together than she did that morning, and clearly tired from a busy first day.

Beautifully disheveled

I tried to get information out of her about how her day went, but of course she refused to cooperate, only stating that it was "some good, some not so good" and ignoring my more detailed questions. Not knowing the real story, I could only hope that the day went well for her.

After dinner, I then saw an email from her special needs teacher, with the subject of "Be Proud!!!" The detailed story of the day was that Cordy did very well in her first grade classroom. She had an aide with her for most of the day, and required some prompting to get started with tasks, but she completed all of her work and remained in the class all day. Even when the aide wasn't in the classroom, she held her own.

I'm incredibly proud of her, of course. I'm thrilled she had a great first day and hope she continues to impress and amaze her teachers throughout the year. I may never know what's fully going on in her mind, but I'm so thankful she's coming out of her little world to share her bright personality with all of us.

While I'm spending the week trying to balance having two young girls home with me and somehow sleeping during the day (thanks mom and Aaron for the help!), I'm also keenly aware that the school year begins again starting next week.

I'm always on the verge of a panic attack before the first day of school. Last year, it was due to my disappointment that Cordy wouldn't be in a mainstream kindergarten class, wondering if she'd miss out and never get the chance to prove she could hold her own with typical peers. It wasn't a plan I was happy with, but it turned out very well thanks to a teacher who immediately saw Cordy's potential and a school that is apparently completely caught up in Cordy's charm. She was gradually introduced to the mainstream class during the year until she was spending nearly half of her day with them.

This year, my sweet Cordelia gets her chance. She will begin homeroom each day by checking in with her special needs teacher, but will then spend (hopefully) all of her school day in a mainstream classroom. This school has never had a split first/second grade classroom (a mix of both grades in one class, with the teacher teaching to individual levels), but this year Cordy will be a part of this special class, and I can't help but wonder if this class was designed with her in mind.

In our meetings last year, there was a lot of uncertainty about what to do with our smart but socially limited child. If she remained in the special needs class, she'd get individualized academic instruction, but would lack the challenge of learning to survive in a neurotypical world.

If she went to a mainstream first grade, we'd be faced with two options: let her follow the first grade curriculum - a curriculum that her teacher tells us she's already mastered in kindergarten - or send her to a second grade class for the subjects she's strongest in: math and reading. The first of those options would leave her bored and therefore prone to act out, and the second option would involve so many transitions from classroom to classroom during her day that we'd be setting her up for failure.

It was during all of these discussions that Aaron and I were strongly considering pulling her out of public school and exploring the idea of a Montessori school. Sure, we'd have to sell a kidney to pay for it, but at least then she'd have an option that had the best chance for success on both the academic and social/emotional fronts.

And then at the end of the year Cordy's teacher offered up the solution of the split class. She'll be able to work at a second grade level academically if she's ready for it, but socially she will have first grade level expectations placed on her. The teacher for this class is well regarded and is already familiar with Cordy. (Her son was a typical peer in Cordy's preschool class.)

Like I said, it's as if they designed this class for my daughter.

I took Cordy to the school last week to visit with her special needs teacher, and she discussed this year's plan with Cordy. I can already tell Cordy is nervous about the change; it'll likely take a few weeks for her to adjust to this new routine. The teacher walked her to her new classroom, showing Cordy that the two classrooms are just a few doors away from each other and reminding her that she can come visit her special class if she needs a break.

Still...I'm nervous. I want this to work. My heart aches at the thought of Cordy struggling with the social norms of a typical class (what if the kids don't like her, or worse, what if they tease her?), but I know it's what she needs to do. Every day I want to wrap her up and hide her away from everything that frightens and upsets her, but I have to draw on my own strength to reassure her and then send her out to face her fears, repeating the process whether she succeeds or fails, over and over again.

Ever since we received the autism diagnosis, I've hoped that Cordy could have as normal of a childhood as possible, including an education in a mainstream classroom. She'll always be eccentric - I wouldn't expect anything less from my child - and it's likely she'll have trouble fitting in. Even if she can't blend in with the crowd, I want her to better understand how that crowd works and how to work around it.

So I'll likely be an anxious mess for the next few weeks as we see how well Cordy adapts to her new class. We're lucky that she has a lot of people interested in seeing her succeed, including those directly involved with her education. It also helps that the kid has a track record for rising to the occasion when needed, and we're hoping this experience is no different.

So after returning from BlogHer, where I spent five days with 3000+ women who were all looking fantastic in their own ways, I found out yesterday that an article I was interviewed for was published at CNN. The topic revolved around moms dressing like their teenagers, or in my case, older women who shop in the Juniors' department of a store.

It's a quick read - go check it out, I'll wait.

I think the article does a great job of explaining why it's OK to shop in the same place as a teenager as long as you're dressing in a flattering way for your body type. Just because you're in Hollister doesn't mean you can't find a simple, well-fitting t-shirt that doesn't reveal too much. Of course, I'm writing that sentence as if I have any idea what kind of clothing Hollister carries.

There's so much I can say on this topic beyond my quotes in the article. Do I think any teen fashion can be adopted by a 30- or 40-something mom? No way. But depending on your body type you can find cute clothing in a store focused on a younger population, or even the Juniors' section at Kohl's, that is still appropriate and tasteful for an older woman.

(Gah. I just lumped myself in as older. 'Scuse me while I go take my fiber pill now...)

When I was younger and in that "appropriate" age range for these stores, I didn't fit the clothing. I was heavier, I had self-esteem issues, and so I was far more comfortable hiding myself in baggy jeans and loose sweatshirts. I'm still a big fan of casual clothing, but having dropped some weight - both in pounds and in psychological baggage - I can appreciate clothing that's a little more flattering to my shape. There's no chance I'll be sporting a mini skirt and crop top anytime soon, of course; I know my limits. I shop now for clothing that is comfortable and makes me happy when I wear it, no matter where it came from.
It's always interesting to read the negative comments in the article, too: moms who wear teen clothing must be slutty. If you're a mom, you shouldn't care what you look like anymore. If you want to look nice, you're just shallow and self-absorbed. *eyeroll*

Let's play a little game: here are some of the outfits I wore at BlogHer this year. I'll state up-front that I have no intentions of winning a fashion award anytime soon. Guess which one came from the Juniors' department:

Thursday in the Expo hall

Thursday night: strapless dress & crochet cardigan

Friday night: lavender lace dress (sorry, can't find a photo in color)

Saturday morning: brown ruffled, layered top and jeans

Saturday - another view of the same outfit, with Elmo totally checking me out

OK, so what's your guess? Which one was designed for a teenager and not a 35 year old mom?

...

insert Jeopardy music here ...

...

SURPRISE! It's the brown layered-look shirt. Yep, this beauty of full-coverage-yet-fashionable ruffles and layers comes from the Juniors' section of Kohl's. The other outfits? Lee jeans, H&M top, JC Penney dress from the women's section, and Ruche lace dress.

I found similar tops to the Kohl's layered top in the women's section, too, but they didn't fit me as well. They were too boxy and made me look completely shapeless. The teen version is better fitted through the midsection and I received several compliments while wearing it. The jeans aren't from the teen section, of course - no teen jeans would ever fit my hips.

My final thoughts: I'm no fashion plate. I can count dozens more who are more fashionable than me. But I do like to dress in a way that makes me feel pretty. Clothing is both a shallow topic and a subject that we wrap up in our self-worth. It can be a form of expression and a signal of our inner feelings. It can be a tool to empower us or a weapon to tear us down. While I don't think women should invest so much of our self-worth into a piece of fabric, I do consider it reasonable that we can enjoy what we wear.

My belief is that we're all smart women - we know what is appropriate for us. Wear what makes you look and feel your best no matter where it came from, whether it be Forever 21 or Forever 65. Because if you feel good about yourself, it'll be reflected in everything you do, including the all-important task of building self-esteem in your children. It doesn't matter if you're raising your kids in a sweatshirt or a pair of pink heels as long as you're confident in yourself.

What do you think? Are there certain stores that we shouldn't shop in? Should women who reach a certain age be shunned from the Juniors' section completely? Is it possible to follow fashion and not be accused of dressing like a teen or being a bad mom (unless you're Jennifer Lopez)?

Alternate title: I left my spirit in San Diego.

I've been home for over two days now and while I've settled back into my home routine again, everything still feels a little off.

Part of the problem is that summer camp ended last Friday for Cordy and Mira. Why the summer programs in our city choose to end two and a half weeks before the start of school is unknown to me, but it's intensely frustrating when you work and have to find childcare coverage for that short period of time.

Mira is attending another camp for just this week, at a premium cost of course. Which leaves Cordy at home with me during the day, while I try to get enough sleep to function at work that night. Cordy has learned how to operate the remote control to choose cartoons to watch on Netflix, and so our routine involves me napping on the couch while she reads books and watches TV and wakes me up for lunch. Not perfect, but it works. Next week will be a different story.

I'm still processing so much from my trip to BlogHer. New connections were made. Old friendships were reaffirmed. I spent time in a city where the weather is always perfect and the air is light and humidity-free. I danced until my feet ached and laughed until my sides hurt. And I cried when I had to leave all of these wonderful people so that we could return to our different parts of the world.

Can't miss me - I'm the very white one

Now I'm home, still too tired and too busy to unpack, and feeling lost in the mundane activities of my life.

More to come when the jet lag wears off from my soul.

Life has been a blur lately. I work third shift, Aaron works first shift, the kids are both in summer camp...it often feels like we're all just passing by each other in the evening.

Weekends are full of to-do's. I'm leaving this week for BlogHer. Aaron just got back from a week long trip to San Diego Comic Con. (I would have told you all, but I didn't feel like announcing to the entire Internet that my husband was away from home for a week.)

To sum up: we're disconnected.

Which is why when I was given the opportunity to take a close to home vacation with my family, I jumped at the chance. We spent last weekend at Cedar Point and Lake Erie, a family vacation that we've always wanted and never thought we had the time to take.

And you know what? We reconnected. We enjoyed spending time together, laughing together, playing together, and making memories together.

And we didn't even have to go that far to do it.

Please go read the full recap of our day at Cedar Point, and our day seeing the sights around Lake Erie. It was far too many memories to include in just one blog post.

(Bonus: there's video of a live bison with it's head in our car window. Seriously. Click the links and find out for yourself.)

As I prepare for BlogHer this week, I've been bubbling over with excitement about seeing old friends and immersing myself in 5 days of IRL blogging heaven. This has occasionally resulted in my having to explain my excitement to those around me, followed by not taking their strange looks personally.

It's hard to be a blogger, yo.

I often feel like I'm living two lives. One life is a nurse, working a steady full-time job, going to the grocery, picking my kids up from summer camp, sitting through business meetings at work, doing laundry, keeping strong opinions to myself, occasionally meeting up with friends, and watching TV with my husband in the evenings.

But then there's my other life. In that life I write about my inner thoughts on the internet, converse with friends I know in person and those I've never met across the globe, share openly my struggles with ADD and my daughter's autism, attend conferences of like-minded geeky people who like to talk with each other on the internet, leverage my virtual soapbox to give my opinion on products and services and provide feedback directly to big companies that otherwise wouldn't notice me, occasionally discuss money, politics, religion or some other topic we're not supposed to discuss in polite company, and freely dance my way across social media platforms, interacting with those who cross my path.

My other life sure seems like a lot more fun sometimes.

I often look at my two separate-but-not-equal lives and wonder which one is the real me? Or are they both different parts of me, like the Freudian id and ego?

My daily life requires me to constantly censor myself to fit in, molding every action and word to fit in with what is expected of me. Some of it is the real me, but parts are an act, an elaborate character I play when the need arises. Stick to the superficial when interacting with others in public, bury deep your true feelings so as not to offend anyone, try to blend with the crowd. And for goodness sakes, don't talk about your blog or anything geeky, lest you be branded a complete weirdo!

In college, I was praised by my sorority (wha? yes, I was in a sorority - stop laughing) for being great at the small-talk required during rush. But small talk was easy; scripted conversation starters with a mental list of how to respond to various answers made it a game. Ask me to have more in-depth conversations, though, and the conversations quickly deteriorated as I lost my ability to be chatty and instead panicked.

Online I still must censor myself, but in a different way. Here I hide specifics of the superficial details: my daily schedule, where my children attend school, details about my job, etc. Yet here my inner soul is on display, and writing serves as an outlet for that part of me that is kept bottled up every day. My interactions here are with people who I share something in common with on a more personal level, instead of the superficial level of proximity. On my blog, I don't feel the need to hold back on my opinions - anyone who reads them is here in my space and free to leave if they disagree.

So which is the real me? Blogging conferences always put this to the test. My online self is on display in person, interacting real-time with those I enjoy talking to online. Only without the luxury of taking the time to craft a thought-provoking or witty response. (There's no backspace key in real life.) I always worry I'm going to disappoint people who know my online persona once they meet the physical person. Depending on what point of the day you meet me, I could be shy or very outgoing - it all depends on how overwhelmed I am at the moment.

But thankfully, most people attending BlogHer will be feeling the same way. From past experience, I know that once the initial nervous jitters pass, I find it very freeing to let my two halves loose at the same time. BlogHer makes it possible to be yourself - whichever blend of "you" is the one you feel most comfortable with.

Hopefully I'll be seeing some of you there this week. If we haven't met yet, I hope we'll find the chance to say hello at some point.