This Weekend We // Watched My Best Friend Get Married

Fourteen years ago, Joanna and I tried to throw our first party. But before it began, we got nervous that no one would show up. So we left. When we returned an hour or two later, our suite was full of people who appeared to be having a great time, despite our absence.

Since then, we've learned a thing or two about being hosts. Somewhere along the line, we even started serving food and not just cans of Natty Boh and boxes of wine.

This past weekend Joanna threw her most amazing party yet. She married the nicest, most dapper guy in the world, and they had one heck of a throw down to celebrate. A rehearsal dinner overlooking the Severn.  A ceremony in the most beautiful church in the whole state. Crab cakes. Two bands. A boat ride. Open bars at every step of the way. Here it is Tuesday, and I am still reeling from the excitement of it all.

I was especially grateful for the quiet moments tucked into hidden spaces throughout the weekend. The late night spent with her on her parents' front porch, drinking rose and talking about all the same things we've been talking about for all these long full, years of friendship. The moments watching her mom teach her how to make the silky scrambled egg while she wore the nighty her grandmother rather inappropriately gave her for her tenth birthday. Grateful for the round of drinks shared when she and Geoffrey spontaneously showed up at the Irish Pub where a group of us had congregated between ceremony and reception. Those moments complimented the hours on the dance floor. The glasses held high in celebration.

I cried more at their wedding than I am accustomed to. I knew it was coming almost as soon as I sat in my pew, but by the time I had to go up and read a passage Joanna and I had talked about at length, I had a hard time keeping myself together. God is love. And to know love is to know God. It's powerful. Love is powerful. It joins us to God. Joanna knows that. I know that. I had to stop mid-reading to take a deep breath.

I cried and cried while she and Geoffrey danced their first dance to "Atlantic City." Yes, Bruce, maybe everything that dies does someday come back. That line offers the best marriage advice I could ever give.

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Jettie Blythe, You Are One

My life is dominated by little people. It has happened gradually. The first years of motherhood were not this way. But the years have piled up, and so have the children. Now I have four of my own, a niece and a nephew. And my friends have kids too. They are everywhere, these smiling, sun kissed monsters. Ready to wipe their dirty hands on your clothing. Ready to steal the cupcake from off your plate.

On Wednesday we celebrated my niece Jettie's first birthday. Jettie who is smiles or tears, and nothing in between. A little girl with her father's disposition, her mama's sense of humor, and an impressive vocabulary. Who both my boys treat better than they treat their own baby sister. Jettie with her cat eyes and charisma. She's something special.

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Arlo Is Three

It started with a few thoughtfully purchased gifts, one of which being a set of wooden toy dinosaurs that quickly fell victim to somewhat destructive play and are now covered in an impenetrable layer of blue play dough. It moved on to pancakes and sausages, and then a few hours of playing with the first set of Magnatiles to hit this home before an afternoon matinee to going see The Good Dinosaur was vetoed in favor of a trip down to the beach. What the birthday boy wants, the birthday boy gets. 

Later, I dropped the kids off at my mom's for a few hours to go home to decorate and bake a very disappointing cake that was nearly saved by the addition of sprinkles and a ballon toting T-rex. Complicated plans were abandoned in favor of a weeknight celebration with family, a few neighbors, and a late night arrival of Arlo's sartorial rival straight from the hip streets of BK. 

Balloons and meatballs. So many dinosaurs. One very newly, three-year-old boy who hates pants, loves bubble-less bubble baths, and is known to be incredibly wary of strangers. 

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This Weekend We // Sena's Disco Funk Party

Quite frankly, these pictures didn't capture the chaos.

Or the noise. 

Or the fun.

They don't really convey Sena's nonstop smile, or the satisfaction she had regarding a party she has been planning in her own mind since days after her last birthday. Actually, I take that back. She's been planning this party since before her last birthday. 

She invited all her friends, and lucky for me, she counts among her best friends many of my best friends, grown-ups willing to indulge in late night Parliament dance offs.  The party included a disco ball, a spotlight, tons of sparkly dresses, an Afro, a Russian fur hat, and plenty of impressive moves. Sena had the foresight to spend the morning stretching in preparation. She wasn't going to let cramps or sore muscle keep her from the action. 

We also discovered that Arlo takes after his big sister in more ways than we previously knew-- just like her, he never wants to leave the party. He fell asleep on Tom's back dancing, then woke up through the night begging to dance with his friend some more. 

The party also felt like my first real attempt at my New Year's resolution, which has been on my mind a lot despite not being put into action the way I had intended. As it turns out, having fun in the dead of winter while pregnant was not all that easy. Have I been happy? Heck yeah. But I don't think I've had a ton of fun, per se.  A disco funk party was just the way to change that, so thank you Sena for making that happen, even if it did mean strapping a three week old to my chest so that I could bust some moves. 

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Gus :: Eight

Today he turns eight.

A boy it is so easy to simply describe as charming and kind, both of which are completely true and both of which are also completely insufficient to explain my oldest boy. A boy who hates breaking the rules almost as much as he hates seeing people he loves getting in trouble. When Sena is  being threatened with punishment, he implores her to take warning. He can't bear to watch it. He sometimes leaves the room.  He will take responsibility for any mistake he has made, and some he hasn't, for his sister's sake. He recently pondered if he might love Sena more than she loves him.

When Gus heard me discussing trying to find a way to purchase raw milk, illegal milk, he swore he would never drink it. He will not partake in anything that hints at wrongdoing.

But Gus is by no means timid or afraid; in fact, he is daring. While he would never want to hurt another soul, he is more than willing to risk harm to himself. And yet, somehow, he almost never  gets hurt. He is the sort of rough and tumble boy you would expect to be bruised and broken, stitched and plastered, but he manages to break all of his falls, to always land on his feet.

He is so easy to be proud of, the sort of boy who will grow up to be the sort of man you would want your daughter to marry.

Happy birthday, Augustus. I love you more than you will ever know.

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This Weekend We- Family, Friends, Fire Pit

This weekend we played in the sun and walked around barefoot in the sand. Scooters were scooted and  forts were built and little tiny driftwood rafts sailed down a creek cold from melted snow. 

And then, things got even better.

All sorts of people we loved came over for a birthday bonfire from Gus. It was our fire pit's inaugural lighting, and I am quite certain it was a great idea to put it in. I plan to make good use of it as we finish up winter and go into spring.

On Saturday night, I could not even get over how happy I was. Happy about my friends and my family and good weather and good food. 

I was happy that Gus let us invite over our whole tribe to celebrate him. The party wasn't limited to his peers. There are so many people who love that kid and who are helping him to become the amazing human that he is, why should we just celebrate with the under ten crowd? One day my kids might steal their parties from the grownups, but for now they are happy to let us tag along. 

So we torched Christmas trees and strummed guitars, and at least one of us may have gotten a little too festive (finger pointed at myself). 

I also had one of those dorky little moments of excitement, when I realized that I was sitting on my porch with my almost nine year old daughter, while one of the guys from the much cooler, much older college band played his guitar for us. I was so eager in college- so impressed. I danced my heart out to that band every opportunity I got.

It's funny where life will take you. 

Also, my friend Maggie took the bottom five photographs. Thanks, Mags.

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Post- Holiday Red Bliss

I think that last night we established a new holiday tradition, quite possibly my favorite holiday tradition. This new tradition involves buying your family and friends matching footie pajamas and having them come over and roll around like giant babies. 

It involves taking ridiculous pictures in front of your tree and setting up a slack line in the dark. It involves eating coq au vin lovingly prepared in your beautiful, elegant copper dutch oven in pajamas with butt flaps. It involves board games and a lot of cheese. It involves laughing and maybe a bit of grossness. 

 

I'm feeling happy and ready to say good bye to Christmas, ready to take down the Christmas tree earlier than usual, ready to think about what I want from the new year, ready to bunker down through January. I'm feeling hopeful that my spirits are going to lift and I'll be back to being filled with joy.

P.S.  These pajamas already have plans for a boozy, hot chocolate, sleepover in a couple of weeks. Best purchase of my life. 

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