You Can Take The Mom Outta The Diaper Zone, But...

On Saturday, I got to drive up to Green Lake, Wisconsin, and take part in a beyond-terrific bachelorette party. (Okay, technically the party started the night before- in Madison, at the bars n' such- but out of respect to The Roo, I kept my pregnant self home until the lake house part of the festivities.

And it was festive. Seriously. The gals were a great bunch, and we did all sorts of lake house-y things such as sit on a dock for hours, have a wine tasting, eat n' eat n' eat (until it became downright laughable how much I had consumed), play games around a table until the wee hours, and even did crafts for the upcoming wedding. (As P.J. responded to me when I said we were doing bridal crafts: "...Ah." Why, don't guys usually do this kinda stuff at bachelor parties?)

I was even given a ridiculously awesome king-sized bed in my own room with an attached bathroom. (At this point in the pregnancy, those gestures alone reduced me to tears.) I WAS SO EXCITED for a solo night of opulent, decadent, glorious sleep.

YAY FOR BACHELORETTE PARTIES! (And cheese curds.)

Sometimes you just need to chill with your girls, amiright?

In fact, it would rank up there as one of the best overnight/get outta Dodge/gal times I've had in a looong time...except for the minor fact that, as I was climbing into said king-sized bed in said solitary room (with private bathroom)...

...I realized that I was not alone and that someone was in fact in my bed...

...and that someone was very drunk...

...and mistook the edge of the mattress for a toilet (same with the floor...and part of the hallway)...

...and so my hedonistic plans of sprawling in a bed and not gettin' up for no one were halted for about an hour...

...while I placed said drunk gal back in her bed, cleaned said pee-peed bed, cleaned said pee-peed floor (with help, oh, I had lots of help from just about every other non-drunk, non-pee-peed gal at the party) and cleaned my pajama pants because ohmyGodallthepee.

But it was fine. Because I [eventually] got to sleep. (Alone.) And it's like that old adage: If You Must Erroneously Pee On Someone In The Middle Of The Night, It Might As Well Be A Mom. (No one has ever actually said that.)

So yes, you're reading correctly. My oh-so rare chance to get a lot of sleep (alone) and not clean up a peed-upon mattress (and person) in the middle of the night was upended when I didn't get a lot of sleep (alone or otherwise) because I was cleaning up a peed-upon mattress (and person) in the middle of the night.

Sigh.

But I'll still chalk it up to a really great time away where I got to hang out with awesome ladies, talk about non-toddler things, replace all of the city air in my lungs with fresh air caught straight off the dock, and listen to British books on CD during the drive (because I am approximately 97 years old).

And when I came home to my girls and P.J.? I appreciated them so much. Because it's good to have a lengthy drive and [most of] and evening without tending to someone and time to actually miss them the people with whom I live.

Best of all? P.J. had put new sheets on the bed.

Keely's Best Weekend Ever (AKA Who's Paying For All These Sitters?)

So here's what's happened since we last spoke...

An Awesome Weekend

('cause yeah, I'm totally channeling college and pretending that Thursday is "the weekend"):

I met up with a bunch o' bloggy pals on Thursday (although not nearly enough- it was sadly but a mere cross-section of the girls with whom I wanted to dine and shriek and hold hands)...

Even though we were seated at a table for 20, Kristin and I pretended to be on a super romantic date.
Which entails feeding each other truffle fries. Obviously.

And I hugged Jennie- but not nearly for long enough. (Gal made it here from France!)

Also at this fabulous dinner were Arnebya, Deb, and Kristen...and they're all too cool for school.
And taller than me.

And this lady and I couldn't stop high-fiving each other and laughing like loons.

On Friday, I went to our darling friends' KT and Nate's rehearsal dinner...and was on a date with this guy...

Cheer up, buddy.
Seriously, it's a good thing I am currently With Child,
because this kid was giving me ridiculous Baby Feelings.

Saturday brought a stunning wedding, a radiant bride and groom, and at least one unexpected photo op:

It's kinda like a prom photo. Sitting down. Looking in opposite directions.
And someone on the date is pregnant. Otherwise- uncanny.

And P.J. and his pals (all the way from high school through college) performed a song.
By the Backstreet Boys. Maybe "performed" isn't strong enough. Try "emoted."
Again, to the Backstreet Boys.

Since it isn't possible to wish you this kind of week (because they don't come along all that often), I'll just go ahead and hope that your week includes dancing and laughter and incredible food and divine friends.

And hopefully a Backstreet Boys song. 

California, A Wedding, And Some Stoked Little Girls.

Since I'm still very much so in the midst of California-vacationin', here's a sneak peek of the awesomeness that has been this week. For starters, I attended a wicked beautiful wedding of some college pals. The venue was on a gorgeous Southern California bluff overlooking the ocean where I kinda want to have my next wedding. (Take notes, Peej. If you're lucky, it'll be to you.) 

There was dancing (led largely by my three year-old). There was fabulousness with friends. And, if you were a certain attendee, there were naps.

Um, you said ALL the single ladies, right?

Nora knows some nice people.

The beautiful bride and groom, a beaming friend, and the love between a girl and her cupcake.

I LOVE WEDDINGS.

Y'all, dance like this.

Weddings are simply exhausting.

Happy wedding, Wilder and Barb. Even happier marriage. (And lots n' lots of naps.) 

Snow, Enya, and Confusing Friends & Family Since 2008.

So, Midwest: This snow thing. Come on. There's been a slight disconnect lately between anticipated snow and the subsequently unwarranted freak-outs. Having been a resident of Chicago for over a decade now(!) and being in the [poorly plowed] trenches for the majority of those winters, I'd like to remind my neighbors of what snowfall is. And four inches of ground cover within the city proper wouldn't even have been a blip three years ago.

You call this snow?

For example, during the blizzard of February '11, our fair city was downright pummeled with a whopping two feet of snow. Chicago Public Schools were closed for the first time in decades. And Nora sported her first wicked awful fever (upwards of 104 degrees) and it was so gross outside that we decided to take our chances at home instead of the ER. (And for all y'all first time parents, you KNOW that's some serious weather outside.)

But this? This week's pre-cancelled classes and fear-mongeration which caused hordes of people to hunker down and wait out the storm with walls of canned goods at the ready? Sure, last March's temps that soared into the 90s may have caused temporary winter amnesia, but...FOUR. INCHES.

People.

Unrelated/semi-anticipatory-cabin-fever related: The girls were absolutely wild this morning. Like, they would've given the screaming banshees something to really scream about. So I opened Spotify on my computer. Culled every single Enya song ever penned. Caribbean Blue. Orinoco Flow. The whole shebang of The Celts album. And then I watched as the girls blinked at me, gathered their lovies close, and begin to gently spin around the kitchen- not entirely unlike a few parties I attended at good ol' Hampshire College. And they [my kids, not the burnt-out hippies] looked at me, like- what IS this magic?

Enya, I benevolently informed them. It's just Enya.

Second tangent: Peej and I chose the theme from Far and Away to be our wedding recessional, written by- you guessed it- Enya. (And played by a myopic organist.) It was, for our Catholic-wedding-attending guests, confusing and awesome. Confusome. But go download that track right now. Because it'll change your day. It will change your day.

Our processional, for the record, was Boston's More Than A Feeling, which surprised literally no one on my half of the guest list. And inspired the the rest.

Except for the myopic, rather sleepy, organist.

Whom P.J. feared had kicked the bucket during the ceremony.

And for which scenario he wanted to leave the altar to "go take care of it."

But that's more of another feeling.

In Dog Years It's A Lot Longer.

We look so, so awesome in this picture.

To my darling, patient, better-than-I-sometimes-deserve but always-exactly-what-I-need husband on our fourth anniversary...

Nothing has changed yet everything has changed and I wouldn't change a thing. (Except for maybe one or two teensy things regarding our homestead.) But let's review those crazy ol' vows, shall we?

When I said "for better," I was most likely talking about Sunday mornings with our daughters, the paper, a questionable amount of bacon, and one of your stellar mixes playing on the stereo.

When I said "for worse," I might have been imagining that time when the lower level of our house gave up and disintegrated. (Was there a "for louder" part of our vows, too? Because that may be a three-way tie between the jackhammering of said house, the drilling of samesuch, and my entirely-too-related Ugly Crying on your shoulder.)

When I said "for richer-" well, that part hasn't exactly showered down on us yet, but we do lead a pretty darned fancy lifestyle (due almost completely to your obsessive love of coupons, Groupons, and Craigslist).

When I said "for poorer," I had no idea that I'd someday decide to send our kids to trade school. (Because seriously if an in-family plumber wouldn't have come in handy these past five weeks.)

When I said "in sickness," I'm pretty sure I was preparing for that cold you had this past winter. Good God, did I want to smother you with a pillow. (But I didn't. And I'm glad for it.)

When I said "in health," I couldn't possibly have known that I'd get that same cold one week later. (Thanks for not smothering me.)

There's still no one else with whom I'd rather tend a feverish child at 3am, argue over the necessity of antique store "treasures," and watch old movies while consuming enormous vats of your secret recipe popcorn.

Here's to the next four (times four times four).

And even though we're not in Virgin Gorda this May, getting to wake up next to you (and the girls and the cats) in Chicago each morning still seems like I hit the marriage jackpot.

Which may or may not actually be a thing.

But which I wholeheartedly mean, nonetheless.

(Happy anniversary.)

Back to reality...and the inflatable giraffe pool.

Happy Day After Memorial Day, everyone!

Or, to The Monkey, Happy 21 weeks.

To Peej- Happy Day Back At Work...

And to me, Happy Oh My God, There's A Lot Of Laundry Here- and How Long Was That Sippy Cup Stuck Under The Passenger Seat, Anyway Day. (Observed.)

Some weekend highlights: Family, naps, pooltime, Skyline cheese coneys, miniature people in sundresses, multiple improbable yet highly successful mammoth group photos, a stunning black tie wedding, dancing with my husband...and other people's husbands, more food, more family, and one more nap.

A note on all of the foodliness- my in-laws are terrific cooks. They throw together a mean meal. (Or seven.) Cincinnati has some of the best fast food options in the nation. The wedding meal featured filet mignon with lobster ON TOP OF IT. (As I said to Peej- lobster again?) The passed hors d'oeuvres were so intensely good that I flirted with a waiter and somehow got him to seek me out each time the cheese puffs came out of the kitchen. (No big deal, you're saying? I'm five months pregnant. That requires a serious A game.)

Also, a tiny missive to the wedding bands of the world- When you start a reception with a live version of 'Brick House,' it makes me seriously question your intention to have this party "go all night."

Back to the family.

There was a cousin bath. (Of just the Little Littles. The Middle Littles helped while the Bigs looked on and the Parents attempted to shampoo.)

The paparazzi are EVERYWHERE,

There were two really yummy brunches. One featured a hammock. (For the Middle Littles, obvie.)

Just about at capacity.

We (in Peej's immediate family) cleaned up pretty nicely. And most of us stayed still. (Looking at you, Schoeny.) That joke is even funnier in this context.

Pic courtesy of Leah Brady Photography

And between P.J.'s siblings and their first cousins, Nora hung out with seventeen other little relatives this weekend. Most of them were blonde. This is also where the fabulous sundresses came in. Finally, one last pic just to illustrate two incredibly important points:

Also by Leah Brady!

My daughter is positively edible.

And I smile way too hard.

Don't Mind If I Do.

Jared and P.J. were there, too.

(See what I did there? I do? Get it- weddings? Ah HAH. Marriage humor.)

So Peej and I have just returned from Napa and the glorious wedding of our two pals, Annie and Jared. Here are some summed-up highlights (for to give each terrific day the review it truly deserves would cause Blogger to wonder if they should charge me more):

Our bed and breakfast, the Wine Way Inn, was RAD. We stayed in the Oakville room, there was always a bottle of wine decanted in the sitting area, the breakfast was gourmet and at least eleven courses, we had a private terrace that expanded onto a public terrace that worked its way up to a treehouse, and I got to sleep in as late as I wanted. (Sure, I had bridesmaid-y duties and my internal clock/Mom alarm didn't really allow much more than 8am- but dude! I got to sleep until 8am!!)

The rehearsal and reception took place at Hans Fahden Vineyard. Which is a kinda nice mix of Narnia, Terabithia and a postcard of a vineyard- you know, the type of place you see in an ad that makes you scoff, wondering how daft they think we are that we believe those places exist? (Those places exist!) We rehearsed for the ceremony at a little bend in a rock wall that overlooked a fish pond, vineyards and hills. The gals entered from a covered bridge that was surrounded by some very Alice In Wonderland-y pockets of nature. (The coordinator warned us not to go off of the path, however, since there were some recent rattlesnake sightings. I'm not sure if this was to keep the children in check- or to get me to stop wandering off and babbling about like a loon about the charm. Either way- path= 1, off the path= 0.)

The rehearsal din was at a "beer garden." Except, replace "beer garden" with "magical fairy light secret garden with marscapone thingies on trays!" And guess whose husband decided to try out the ridiculously tall mojito at the bar? That's right, folks. Mine. That started an unfortunate trend of other people trying out the mojito at the bar...and then we had the kind of scene that can only occur when people are drinking really tall mojitos. I've already said too much. But, Point One- the bartender was a member of The Guild. We had no idea what that meant, but it sounded important and we trusted his judgement. And Point Two- there may have been some dancing in the attached bar for Reggae Night, and there may have been a time when I cornered the DJ and informed him that not only did I NOT like reggae (at all) but that I really did kinda want to hear some hair metal and classic rock. Now. I think we all know who won that round.

The AC/DC air guitar champ, that's who.

And now, a side note about Max. He's Annie's three year old nephew (I'm pretty sure he's three.) He's a ball of awesome loaded with sugar and coated with grass stains. Peej and I really dug Max. Here are some of his gems:

-"Is she a boy?" [in reference to a vineyard pup]

-"She smells like FUR!" [happily, in regards to same pup]

-"My BOOBIES are falling!" [racing around the bride's room, in a poor attempt to attach the bride's strapless bra to himself]

-"Not off the path, there are rattlesnakes!" [announced mere seconds before he was to walk down the aisle as a ringbearer, and moments after he announced that he had to pee- badly- and couldn't hold it. They ceremony waited.]

Also worth a side note: Our darling little Aveo. Rental car companies love to give us Aveos. (There are actually only fifteen in the world. We've driven them all.) P.J. made an aside that he loves economy cars- not because they're affordable- but because they're Good For The Environment. Like he's putting the 'eco' in economy. He still hasn't cracked a smile on that one, so I'm only half sure he's kidding. Another clue he may not be into saving the world? As we were leaving San Fran, a guy with a long white beard decided to make his own crosswalk- and Peej muttered that Santa was about get to run over by an Aveo. Oh, we laughed and laughed. (I swear to God he's a good person.)

Back to the romance.

The wedding day was perfection; sunny but not crazy warm, people mostly being where they ought, and a cool as a cucumber bride with a checklist three miles long. And I am not in the least ashamed to admit that, when I saw Annie being walked down the aisle by her Dad, I wept with all the grace of a toddler. There was some sniffling, a snort or two. More than a little runny makeup. I cared not- their vows were beautiful. And having gotten to know the fam and other close friends and seeing EVERYONE react the same way...it was simply a great wedding.

And the reception! After a neato unveiling of the room where we'd be dining- accompanied by Europe's 'The Final Countdown' (Jared! Yes!)- we were escorted into a wine cellar that was outfitted like a different kind of Narnia/Terabithia wonderland. (Clearly, the apex of my happiness can be achieved by simulating children's books.)

Best dinner ever.

Best slide show ever. (Again, more Ugly Crying. What is WRONG with me?)

Best first dance/parents' dance/new friends/old friends/tipsy friends dancing.

Brunch the next day at a spot so pretty that, had I known, I would've camped out with Annie and Jared the night before. (Hi guys!)

And then- AND THEN- OMG vineyards. Like, Napa vineyards. Where they letcha drink the wine. We met up with some darlin' pals at A. Rafanelli Winery and entered with a secret code. (I live for stuff like that.) Not only were we given wine glasses the size of globes and strict instructions to 'catch up,' but we were then taken on a private tour of the rooms where they were pressing the grapes and storing them in 1k apiece oak barrels [Nat: "As you do..."] And we got to taste grape foam! And stick our heads in barrels and almost pass out from a C02 blast that nearly exploded our nostrils! And see the Prohibition Era washbin that started it all! (As another gal on our tour announced tipsily, "It's like Willy Wonka- BUT BETTER.")

And there were more vineyards. And vintage stores. And naps. And dinner at Mustard's, a fancy schmancy bit of awesomeness- which we took to calling Moutarde's- that we discovered on the Food Network. That seems to be our thing, lately. And it was really, really good. All of it. Except, maybe not the girl passed out on the parking lot dividers. She wasn't so awesome. But her friends were there to make sure she wasn't too drunk. And to cheer on the game of some sort they were watching on the bar area's TV. Go sports. 

Of course, we had to have one last drink with the bride and groom- at the site of the first evening's revelry. I had a Diet Coke. This led Annie to believe that I was dying. (She has never seen anything like that in my possession at a bar.) 

When it was time to go, I hugged her for a million years. It hit me that this pal, this terrific friend and massive part of my life, really lived in California now. With her husband. (And their two cats, but that's a different story.) And I was SO excited to be going home to my bitsy gal (whom I missed like an amputated arm- did I mention I cried on the flight out? Maybe I have a hormone imbalance) but the thought of not seeing Annie for every single event in my life, inconsequential or huge, was gonna be HARD. 

But you know what made it easier? Knowing how happy she was. And how well taken care of she was gonna be. And I really can't mention the happy part enough. They're gonna be blissfully married for the rest of their lives and I got to play a small part in it. That's forever, too. And so I'm content and a little weepy and grateful and kinda tired and stoked and fearful of my American Express bill. 

And wondering if I even know the meaning of "summing up."