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The night I brought my son home from the hospital, the reality of my life hit me like a punch in the gut: I was a mother. And I would now be a mother forever. It wasn’t a bad thing to realize—just startling—that there would always be a person on the earth that I would worry about. I loved my little guy—smart, adorable, funny. But as he grew, I found myself just surviving until the day was over and my husband came home, not understanding at the time that I was depressed. It just felt like part of myself was dying, disappearing—the part of me that never fully came into being. Now I was a Mother, doing a very valuable and honorable thing, but the Me I had wanted to get to know, was lost somewhere, and I had no idea how to find her. I found myself wishing I had gotten in just a few years of living out some of the dreams I hadn’t known I would have wanted—like living in New York, or living in Europe for awhile.

It’s no secret I’ve always been a fan of Martha Stewart. I really think it was her magazine that saved me from going crazy during that time of such limited adult interaction. I was a brand new mom, I would pore over her magazines, read every page, take in every detail. For awhile, I was self admittedly a Rain Man of her magazine. If someone would say, “Hey, do you remember that article in Martha Stewart with the cinnamon sugar waffles?,” I’d say, “Oh yeah, that’s June 1999.” I would daydream (and still do) that I could work in New York, even though I was beholden to my husband’s work and career.

So, working with the Martha Stewart team on a few projects with my blog has been kind of a dream come true. I had a lot of fun last year working on the Crocs ad, and this year, when they invited me out for a video shoot with Kevin Sharkey, the Senior Vice President at Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia, I jumped at the chance.

But getting there was a little like a nightmare. At first, everything was going well—I had to be at the airport in Salt Lake really early, but I was there on time, the flight was smooth, I was happy . . . and then I got to Chicago. I may not even need to go on from here. I’d guess a lot of you have been through the O’Hare airport and can probably guess the rest of my story. But I’ll tell it, just in case.

When I arrived, I was on time for my flight, sitting in the right spot for my flight, and then, when I got in line for my flight, I almost got on the wrong plane. Evidently, they had changed the gate, while I was sitting there, but I hadn’t heard the announcement, since apparently, they like to speak into a pillow when they make their announcements and not have any working signs in the airport.

When I finally made the realization, my flight was supposed to take off in five minutes, but they had already closed the door, and I was out of luck. When I rushed to get on the next flight, it, and all other flights to New York were cancelled because of a huge winter storm.

To make a very long night, and a very long story short, a nice man at the airport managed to get me on the very, very last seat to the east coast. I flew into Boston that night, got about 2.72 hours of sleep, got on an Amtrak the next morning, got to the city, and took a cab to the studio. I felt like I should have been wearing a sign that said “MARTHA STEWART OR BUST.” But it all worked out. Everyone in the studio was incredible and amazingly fun to work with, and we got to make some Easter baskets filled with delicious, silky smooth Dove Chocolates. To see our video, visit Martha’s website here, or just click on the image below.

It was probably one of the coolest things I’ve ever gotten to do. Oh, and just so you know (because someone made a comment and it made me want to lock myself in a room and eat pastries for a week—or just slap them), I am not pregnant. Apparently, blousy shirts are all the rage these days—I’m just trying to stay hip—but apparently, you have to have protruding hip bones in order to pull them off. Lesson learned.

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