This weekend I am heading to Sydney to attend the Blogopolis conference. A gathering of bloggers in one room, learning stuff, I’m very excited. However, it has just occurred to me how difficult it is to remove myself from the children.

I have complicated the situation by taking my husband with me. I may have slightly mislead him with the idea of an early anniversary weekend away, then mentioned I would just have to pop out from 8.00am until 5.00pm on Saturday, no scratch that, they are doing drinks after so it will be 8.00am until 7.00pm. But look outside of that he’s got my full attention.

Of course removing the other key caregiver means I have to find someone else to manage the logistics of my children. Hello Mum would you like some quality bonding time with your grandchildren?

In many respects it was easier to ditch the children when they were younger, they didn’t really do a lot, leaving them with an old-enough responsible person and a couple of Wiggles DVD kept them entertained.  Now they have their own obligations that need to be addressed.

So Mum is coming to keep the children company (note Hippie Child rebelled at the mention of the word babysitting she is WAYY TOO OLD for that so we have negotiated a new term). Speaking of which, how old would you leave your children at home alone for a weekend?

The same Hippie Child is returning from a four-day camp in Canberra on Thursday night, she’s not a person to cope well with lots of travel and little sleep. Good luck Mum.

I’ve checked the soccer draw. We have an 8.40pm game on Friday night and a 9.00am game the next morning over an hour travel from home. Thanks Mum. We have a slight reprieve in that my friend Therese has volunteered her husband to collect and return for the 8.40pm game. Onya Brett (even if you don’t know you are doing it yet).

Right, now just got to clean the house and buy enough food to feed them over three days.

Now back to me. According to an assortment of blog posts what you wear to a blogging conference is of utmost importance. I haven’t bought anything new in God knows how long. Do I really want to subject myself to that fitting room hell, tight space, bright light, and the mirrors, so help me the mirrors?Trying to squeeze my size 14 mummy belly into fashion designed for a size 8 stick insect creatures, such good times!

I need a haircut and an eyebrow wax (not worrying about the leg wax, it’s winter I need the extra warmth). Three afternoons left – hang on soccer make-up game on Tuesday – two afternoons left – can I charm the hairdresser and beautician for emergency appointments?

Accommodation – have I organised that – no – right what’s that website for last-minute bookings?

The car is booked in on Wednesday to attempt to get rid of that screeching noise it makes every time you turn the steering wheel.We’re hopeful it has one more trip to Sydney in it. The reward at the end will be valet parking (if I manage to get us into a hotel). I believe it’s good for the hotel staff to experience driving a REAL car – those BMW, Porsche, Ferrari’s have no character.

I’m taking the I-pad (where’s the charger – oh that’s right it’s in Canberra – remember to get it off the Hippie Child on Thursday night). I hate typing on the I-pad so at some point will probably out myself as a techno-failure and whip out the pen and paper to take my notes.

Maybe I should do a list on the I-pad, you know just so I’m on top of everything.

All is under control. No worries.

Oh no, Princess Child is supposed to be at band in 10 minutes, leave list writing and run to car.