McKenna

How is it possible that I have let an over a week go by without talking about the lovely McKenna Maria?

Let's back track a bit - three years ago one of my very dearest friends married one of our best friends. They both have become rocks on our lives - people we rely on for advice and perspective. They were there when we brought Addison home from the hospital and they were there when we slammed the door on the U-Haul and moved to Cincinnati. In short, they are a huge part of our lives.

Keelin and I met in 2003 while both working at a southside elementary school in Chicago. I was the green behind the ears social work intern and she was the most amazing kindergarten teacher I had ever encountered. She was kind and firm, creative and insightful. She spent her days crouched down to the eye level of five year olds. Through out our time working together she kept me entertained with hysterical stories and educated me about the amazing resilience of children. We started hanging out after work - catching dinners and drinks, inviting each other to parties. Karen and I thought she should meet our friend Berto from our Loyola days, because if nothing else the story of their fling would entertain us.

Berto and I met somewhere in the mess that was our freshman year at Loyola. He and Andy were friends well before Andy and I even knew each other existed. They both had horrid roommates, but a fun floor and quickly found each other as they escaped the persons with whom they were assigned to live. In the years that followed they shared an on-campus apartment and Berto became a fixture on Andy's off-campus apartment's couch. We went on Spring Breaks together, proudly used our ids to get into bars before we were old enough, shared retreat experiences. After we graduated LUC we hung together pretty much constantly - late night talks on the porch of my volunteer position, Thursdays at Sports Corner, trips to Indianapolis to see friends, New Years Eve parties where they boys entertained everyone with their costumes and antics. In the past decade and a half we've been through everything together - the good, the bad and the ridiculous.

Keelin and Berto met - nothing clicked. They met again - he bought her McDonald's. The rest is history - three years ago today they married - Andy and I stood up in their wedding. Twelve days ago, they welcomed baby McKenna into our fold. These are two people who are meant to be parents- they are both kind and thoughtful. They have amazing intuition, tons of patience and humorous perspectives. They are gentle and firm, know what they believe and are such a fabulous addition this wonderful club we call parenthood.

When McKenna was two days I got my hands on her - Andy scooped her up last week. She is tiny and pink. She seems to have Berto's eyebrows and Keelin's hair. She barely made a peep when I met her, just seemed to be taking in the world around her. Her parents are doing wonderfully, not that we ever doubted they wouldn't be...and I am dying to get my hands on her again.

Monday

The best way to spend frigid, gray Monday?

Playing on trains, with one of your best buds and getting to meet Santa.

Nothing gets better than that, my friends.

Carolina Bride

Most of the day was full of little smiles, a few tears and nervous giggles. The sky constantly changed moods, threatening to rain. The ceremony had to moved inside, but the wedding was happening no matter what Mother Nature's intentions. Chicken salad sandwiches and fruit salad was washed down with Sparkletinis.

Hair was coiffed. Makeup was applied. The photographer, cake and flowers arrived right on time. Slowly friends and family started to show up - the nervous giggles and small smiles faded away to grins and all out laughter. The wedding coordinator (aka: Brian) kept us on time and on task.

The dress was on...the bride was ready. The groom was waiting. And then the tears came - her's not mine. The 'oh my god I'm getting married' tears. The 'this is the day I've been waiting for' tears. The 'I'm about to walk down the aisle with my father to my husband' tears. The 'crap I'm crying and I have $70 worth of make-up on' tears.

I blotted a tissue to her eyes and said it was time to breathe...and walk her ass down that aisle. And through the tears, she smiled, gave me one those Christie looks and said "But these are good tears".

By the time she made it to the end of the aisle she was all smiles - and so was he. And so was every guest in the room

And then they got married. And their happily ever after started.

And the bride? The bride was fabulous.

Summer in the Chi - for a minute

Is it kosher to blog about a bachelorette party? Probably not, but I'll still give you a bit of insight to the weekend, because, really, I am not know for my properness.

• I made record time getting to Chicago and successfully caught a Thursday night softball game. We then headed to Four Shadows (which used to be Lee's- we always swore we'd never step foot in the "new Lee's" - that lasted about two months) to hang with some of the gang and munch on a little bit of everything. The night ended with wine at Karen's and plotting for Friday.


• Friday. Friday was one of those almost perfect summer Friday's in Chicago. A Cubs game - yes they lost (and to the freaking Reds of all teams) but the weather was perfect, our seats were fabulous and the beer was cold. Cubs turned into Bin 36 (holy cheese and wine batwomen!). Bin 36 turned into the Signature Room (an Old Fashioned that sadly was icky) which turned into finding Phelan. Finding Phelan turned into going home after two drinks and leaving Michelle with Phelan unsupervised, which, of course, resulted in Michelle being broken all day Saturday. Phelan breaks everyone.
  

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• Saturday was all about girl time. Girly girly girliness. First thing in the morning Karen and I went on a champagne/tums/tiara run. We feasted on fresh New York bagels and iced coffee and got ready to be slightly pampered. Off we headed to Vie's for nails (and insanely personal massage chairs) with pink champagne served in shamrock flutes. Our lovely pampering was followed by a quick lunch at O'Donovan's, a mini nap and getting prettified for the main festivities.
  
  
  
• And the main festivities? Those were fabulous too. An amazing amount of eating was done at Quartino - there were at least four types of risotto, five varieties of cheese, a delicious duck procuitto pizza and a gallon or six of sangria. Christie was given sweet shower gifts (the best illustration prize going to Karen), watched a silly video of Michael, and wore a homemade hat of bows. We headed up to Bye Bye Liver for a raunchy, hysterical stand up comedy about drinking and dating and ridiculousness. We had planned on doing a fancy pub crawl, sipping fancy drinks - I don't know who we were kidding. We beelined our behinds to the G&L, one of our favorite old haunts and parked our butts on stools and laughed and drank and told stories. Jello-shots and late night pizza rounded it all out....and I think it was just what we needed, and hopefully what the bride needed.

• Sunday equalled brunch, which led to mimosas, which lead to mojitos. All of which lead to sitting on the couch with some of my best friends being ridiculously thankful for my weekend away. So, thank you, Michael, for asking her to marry you - it gave me an excuse to party in one my favorite cities with some of my all time favorite people.

• Monday found me in the car heading south by 7:30 a.m. - Karen headed to work, Christie frolicked for a few more hours in the Chi, and Matt was thankful to have his couch back. And by 1:15 p.m. I was getting one of the best hugs I've ever had from my most favorite three year old.

Thankful Thursdays

What am I thankful for this Thursday?

• A new scent of laundry detergent, and baskets full of clean, folded laundry.
• Spending five days with an old friend laughing (I've been thankful for that for the past two weeks).
• Sleeping in until 8, but still being up early enough to have 30 minutes to myself.
• Oil changed, tires rotated and gas tank full with the car ready to head off to Chicago.
• Newly planted Black Eyed Susans, Shasta daisies and Sedum.
• Not getting poison ivy, despite picking a big bush of "leaves of three".
• Play dates with sweet little girls who clean up after themselves.
• The anticipation of seeing old coworkers and good friends for a few moments.
• Being hours away from a glass of wine on my Dad's patio.
• Having a clean house - with mopped floors and everything.
• Knowing that when they are good, they are so very good - and so very adorable.

Boys of Summer

"School" ended two weeks ago with a farewell picnic at the park. The kids played until their cheeks were purple and hair was soaked with sweat. They munched on hot dogs and played with balloon animals and hugged their teachers goodbye.

Addison ate lunch with Dominick, played tag with Luke, Jacob and Garrett and slid the slides with Harrison and Nicholas. She made sure to say to hi Connor and inform me that Benjamin was not at the picnic.

Do you sense a theme here?

My girly girl, who insists always on dresses to twirl in, is BFF with all the boys. Cute, rough and tumble dirt covered boys. Sure, she hugged her girlfriend Madison goodbye, but for the most part it was Addie and 'her boys'.

And one of her favorite boys is our adorable little neighbor Nicholas: aka Saint Nicholas. They were in the same class. They're the same age. They live down the street from each other.

They are so stinking sweet together.

Replacement

When Addie was born my dear friend Karen came over to meet her and brought me a coffee mug and a wonderful jar of lavender scented honey balls. At first it was the honey balls that I was most excited about - they were from one of our favorite lunch spots and somehow made every cup of tea magical.

But it was the mug that I grew to love.

It was big. It had one of those perfectly shaped handles, the rim was wide, but the base was narrow. It was sturdy in my hand. Even better, the front read "Mommy Needs Sleeps" and the back read "But I'll settle for Caffeine".

It was a mug that held the perfect amount of coffee. It was used so much that there was a crack down the center. When we moved from Chicago it was one of the last things wrapped up and packed and when we arrived in Cincinnati I rooted through boxes so that my first cup of coffee in the Queen City would be familiar and comfortable.

In early March I was unloading the dishwasher and dropped my beloved it mug. It shattered across the kitchen floor. I cried. Almost uncontrollably. Almost to the point of being irrational. My mug - gone. My comfortable, sturdy, perfect mug.

After regaining my limited composure I called Karen and told her about the broken mug. I might have cried a bit. I think I was so upset because that mug got me through a year of early morning after a year of sleepless nights.

It was held through long phone conversations with Karen and Christie, after we all lived in different cities. It steeped an ideal cup of tea with a lavender honey ball.
It had steadfastly gotten me through two-and-a-half years of mothering.

Fast forward to May.

Girls Weekend - glorious girly-girltime with friends who I adore, including Karen. And Karen, who had spent an afternoon frolicking in Chicago with Addie in March, came bearing a gift.

A new humongous coffee mug. It holds half a pot of coffee. My entire hand fits in the handle. It is bright and colorful and makes me smile.

I think this mug will get me through the next hundred years of motherhood.
And I'll look back and see how tiny her hand was and smile. And be thankful for my coffee, for my daughter, and for my fabulous friend Karen.

As a sidenote, the blue bunny next to my mug also came to Girls Weekend. Apparently as Addie and Karen left the pottery shop that they created my mug masterpiece in, Addie turned to Karen and asked, oh so sweetly, "What Addie get?". So Addie got to paint the bunny, which I affectionately refer to a the decaying rabbit. Seriously who paints a bunny blue and green and orange and mustard yellow?

The Girls Get Away

Last Friday I loaded up my car with board games, peach sparkletini, wine and cheese products and headed toward my Girls Get Away in New Buffalo, Michigan.

The harbor on Lake Michigan - - - - My ass kicking Bloody Mary - - - - Melissa enjoying Ali's martini

There were eight of us - four moms and four non-moms (although one will be in early fall), also spilt up as: four women who wake up at the crack of dawn and four women who still possess the ability to sleep in.

In the two and half days that we were there we had only one real meal - everything else that was consumed was essentially a snack or revolved around a cheese based dip.

Ali's martini ~ Hot and Dirty - - - - Michelle's version of an energy drink - - - - - - - Laura's usual ~ a Bacardi & Coke

We shopped at the outlets, sat in the sunshine on the deck chatting, wandered into town to have a scrumptious lunch. We drank our fair share, but were still in bed well before midnight. There was a lot of laughter, a few inappropriate photos (some that got erased, some that will never be published on the Internet. You're welcome, Ali).

Keelin & Karen in full decorating mode - - -- Mich with her hat & camera - -- - Sue & Keelin getting ready to bet on the Derby

We decorated our own over-the-top Derby Hats, played a cutthroat game of charades, and laughed and drank some more.

Andy informed me that a boys weekend would never involve a craft or going to bed before midnight. I informed him this was Girls Weekend. There were no rules, except each girl was allowed to do what they wanted when they wanted to.

But mostly I believe what we wanted to do was to be together. To have a few drinks. To not count calories and to laugh. Repeatedly.

That mission was accomplished...and I kind of wish Girls Weekend was not a yearly thing, but a monthly thing. Or a weekly occasion.

But then again, how many Derby Hats does a girl need?

A forever friend

When we left Chicago I was sad for a gazillion reasons, but one of them was the fact I had a friend there with a son just about Addie's age. A friend who understood my neuroses and still put up with me. A friend who would drive an hour into the city just so we could log a face-to-face adult conversation.

We held each others' kids. We provided kid coverage so one of us could go to the dentist or get our hair cut. Or take a shower in peace. Our friendship was, is, effortless. It lacks drama. It's easy and lasting.

A little over a year after we pulled up stakes, so did her family. They left Chicagoland for New York Cityland (I know! ACK!). We don't get to see each other often. We attempt to keep in touch on the phone, but we never get to just sit and support each other - the exception being our yearly pilgrimage to the North Carolina shore and a fabulous visit this past weekend.

She, Renata, came to play with her son, Evan, and her husband, Toby, in tow. We went to the zoo. We munched on burgers. We took in a Cubs game without kids and with quite a few beers. We played board games, grilled, sat on the patio and let the kids run wild in the yard.

And the whole worry about two-year-olds not getting along or being shy...that is a worry that we don't have. Evan and Addie were peas in a pod. They swung on the swings, kicked balls, and jumped on the bed. The hugged and giggled and were so incredibly sweet to each other that at times I thought my heart might burst.

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When I was little I had friend like Evan -Andrew A.. Our parents were pals, he was just weeks older than me, and was my constant playmate. Pictures of him and his family pepper our photo album. He and I going off to our first day of kindergarten together, off to college, at my college graduation.
He moved away before first grade, but yet he still was a part of my life. We trekked to his house to spend the weekend cross country skiing. They came to our house to visit old friends and go hiking. We wrote each other silly letters and manage even now, in our hectic adult lives, to maintain a thread of friendship. He was at my wedding. This summer I held his baby son.

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And I imagine that Evan could be Addie's Andrew A.. They'll be thrown together because of their parents' friendship and soon pictures will spring up in albums. They'll have collective memories. Stories will be told over and over of their antics at the beach or the time she called him "my prince-y" or how he loved jumping on the air mattress in her blue tutu and yellow headband. Or the fact that if one of them had to go to the bathroom, the other did too.

And perhaps they will be pen pals. And celebrate each others' accomplishments. And maybe someday, long from now, dance at each others' weddings and hold each others' children.

And their friendship will be effortless. And easy. And lasting.

A midweek moment

I'm not sure what secrets they were sharing.

I imagine that they were whispering about princesses and flowers and birds.

I have no doubt that they shared a close to perfect moment together - and I was jealous.

I didn't want to be doing the dishes, folding the laundry, wiping the counters, tiding the family room.

I wanted to be sitting, quietly in a colorful tutu, sharing in their secretes.

I wanted to be plotting, scheming, laughing.

But by witnessing their moment I was reminded that quietness is magical.

Dandelions are quite beautiful.

And a little girl's kitty cat is truly her best friend.

Kidcation

This past weekend Andy and I headed south for a 60 hour long kidcation. We headed to Durham, North Carolina to see our BFF Christie and her fiancee Michael. The impetus for our get-a-way was, of course, UNC basketball. The gents went to the UNC v. NC State game and Chris and I headed off for some pampering. We had our toes and fingers painted and rubbed. We chatted all things wedding, all things girly and enjoyed just being together.
On an un-girly note, UNC won. XU won. LU won. Visitation 5th grade basketball won - it was essentially Andy's best basketball day ever.

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Christie moved to Durham shortly after Andy and I fled to Cincinnati.

Prior to our moves, for the better part of nine years, we were inseparable. Chris and I worked together in a residential program for "at-risk youth". Imagine that - we were considered role models and mentors.

After leaving the program, our apartments were never more than two miles away from each other. We had weekly breakfasts and girl dates. We shared the same awesome circle of friends and a love of fruity drinks.

She cheered me on through grad school, stood with me when I got married and was at the hospital when Addie was born.

I cheered her through grad school, assured her that one day the right man would come along and watched jealously as she lived the wonderful life of a singleton in the big city.

Over many, frequent phone calls we've supported each other through the transition to new cities. We've listened to each other cry with frustration, mourning the circle of friends we left behind. We've encouraged each other and cheered each other on and celebrated each other's successes - professionally, personally, and endlessly.

She's going to marry Michael in seven months.

I plan to stand with her. To make sure the dress is flawless, the hair is in place and she is enjoying her moment. We'll toast and laugh and I'll get to say "See, I told you so".

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So for a day and a half we frolicked and laughed and misbehaved. I didn't have to worry about running a two year old to a potty. I wasn't woken up at 6:30 with a request for cartoons. There was no negotiations around meals or nap times.

Instead there were conversations that included complete sentences. There was uninterrupted watching of smutty TV and sipping of Sparkeltinis. And cosmos. And Jack Daniels. And beer. And Bloody Marys. Hmmmm. And Old Fashions. Er, and a jager bomb. And, above all else, our new favorite beverage - The Hollywood Night.

What is a Hollywood Night, you ask? Well, a la TKW, here is a recipe worth your time:

• 1.5 oz of vodka (yum. vodka.)
• 1 oz of triple sec
• 1.5 oz of chambord (yum. chambord.)
• A splash of Rose's Lime Juice
• Shake over ice and strain into a martini glass.

Okay, so those are the directions, but we had them shaken over ice and then served on the rocks in, what else, a rocks glass.

It was fruity. It was frothy. It was heavenly. And better than everything - it was purple!

It, and all it's companions, resulted in a helluva a headache and a few drunken photos. But, on a kidcation, a headache and silly photos are okay.

It also helps that Addie was in the wonderful care of Grandma Patty. She played, she shopped, she didn't have any accidents and she was the center of attention. It was her own Parentcation.

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As I wrote this, my kidcation officially said Screw you. You're back on duty.

Addie is refusing to nap. She stood in the hallway and peed her pants, her undies and all over the hardwood floor and subsequently melted down.

Did I mention that it's been snowing ALL DAY here?

What I would give for a Hollywood Night.

Her

If you are lucky enough, you have one of Her. Or maybe even more than one. Her being that friend who knows you - knows your secrets and your flaws. She has stood beside you during the roughest times and celebrated with you during the joyous times. I have been fortunate in that I have several friends who are Her. They are the ladies who laugh with me and at me. They understand me when I don't make sense and they straighten me out when I need it.

But there is one, in particular, who has been doing these duties for longer than I care to think about.

Kate and I met when we were in grade school - her grandparents lived across the street from my babysitter. She thought I was bossy. I thought she was timid. She was right, I wasn't.

It wasn't until we entered the precarious world of middle school that Kate and I became friends. And to tell you the truth, I don't even know how it happened - I am just thankful it did.

We spent hours together, daily, being girls. We huddled around the lunch table, we told secrets at recess, we watched each others' backs. Most weekends involved a sleep over at one of our houses.

We got in trouble together - whether it was breaking curfew in high school or sneaking into R rated movies in middle school, we would usually be together and we would usually get caught. Her parents became mine, my mother became hers.

One of the best things about our friendship is that, except for our occasional bitchiness, we are really not similar.

She spent high school in the drama department, emoting. If she wasn't on stage at school, then she was at the local theater company or had her nose shoved in a book. I spent high school doing sports and editing the yearbook, being annoyingly upbeat. She is tall and thin and graceful. I am short, occasionally a bit round, and klutzy.
When I thought she was too wrapped up in a play and not taking care of herself, I would come back to school in the evening and leave a meal in her locker. When I was working on yearbook deadlines late into the evening, she would deliver copious amounts of caffeine. We never liked the same boys. We shared most of the same friends, although we each had our own. She had a crush on my older brother, I was jealous that she had a sister. At graduation, I wore stylish sandals - she wore green Doc Martens.

We headed off to college with promises to be in touch. She went to NYU to tackle the world of drama. I headed off to Loyola, in love with Chicago. When her parents said good-bye to her, she sobbed in an elevator. When my mom drove away, I cried on a curb.

We emailed each other and called when we could. School breaks were filled with the same familiar laughter, swapping stories of city adventures, and reminiscing.

She told me when she thought my boyfriends were dicks, but gave my now husband the stamp of approval.

We've mourned losing friends too young and have celebrated major milestones together.

She held my hand while my mother had a radical mastectomy. She stood at the altar when I said "I do". She called me when Addie entered the world.

These days we live in drastically different worlds.

She splits time between New York City and Paris. She acts and models and works her tiny little ass off. She wears two-and-half-inch high heels and a vintage fur coat.

I split my time in middle America between laundry, cleaning, story time and a mommy and me workout class. I remind myself, as I read Lizzy's Do's and Don'ts for the four thousandth time, that I have a masters degree. On a good day I am in clogs and a fleece.

It's our differences and our memories that keep our friendship so vibrant. The fact that we live in different worlds keeps it grounded and real. After over 20 years of witnessing each others' triumphs and bad choices, of worrying and rejoicing together, we just get each other. It's effortless. We don't talk every day, or week, or even month. We're lucky if we see each other once a year. But even now, far removed from the angst of middle school, we've still got each others' backs.

Lucky me.

Lucky her.

But most of all, lucky Addie - how many little girls this day in age get to have a Fairy Godmother?

Not many.

And not one as fabulous as Kate.