Big City. Small Town.

The other day, while examining a patient, he mentioned the name of a specialist he had recently visited, to which I responded, "Oh yes! I know him really well. In fact, he's a friend of mine." The foreign born patient, most recently from New York, kind of laughed to himself, and in his lovely accent said, "Oh yes, I forget that everyone in this town seems to know one another."


Though, the connection in this instance, isn't surprising at all, as I was the referring doctor, the observation from the patient remains significant. And true. And what I love most about my town.


Yesterday, my second born, requested we go to the "burrito place with red sprite". He was talking about Ninfa's. A quite literal, hole in the wall, family owned and operated, tiny little, as authentic as they come Mexican food restaurant that serves warm, fresh, handmade, melt-in your mouth tortillas instead of the "traditional" chips and salsa. These are the "burritos" to which Curtis referred, and the "red Sprite"? Strawberry Fanta. Seeing as I have a 2 hour lunch break on Fridays, how could I resist the opportunity?

Eventually, I texted my mother and sister, and informed them of my lunch plans. To which, my sister replied, "Ha! Mom and I were just talking about that and she said, don't say anything to Erin until we know what time..." Thus. Had I not texted them, there is a really good chance we would have run into one another at this place anyway! Which, I forgot to mention, is no where near our neighborhood. I also forgot to mention, that the owners of this establishment had children who attended Matt's grade school. So, we kind of know them. Which is why we even know of the spot. Which I then introduced to my mother, who has a special affinity for tiny dives with amazing food.

 As we lunched, a few women walked in, and my mom remarked, "Oh how funny, I went to high school with a couple of those ladies." Small town is right! Then, not a moment later, who walks in? My mother-in-law. She was meeting these ladies for lunch. Curtis pops up and runs over to give his surprised Mimi a hug (and ask her to play on her phone.) What should have been a quick little lunch date with my 2nd child, turned into a family affair, and mini reunion of sorts. I left lunch all warm, and fuzzy, and full. Really full. Full of incredible food. Full of love for my family. Full of love for my city, and my life, and where I have landed.

Born and raised in Kansas City, I have lived in the same 6 mile radius for my entire life, with the exception of 5 years. I have moved exactly 6 times. Ever. Three of those instances occurred in those 5 years of college and post-grad work. I went away to Indiana for under grad, mostly because of swimming, but, I would have been fine staying near home. Though, I sometimes wonder if I am missing out on some beautiful part of life because of my extreme lack of wanderlust, I am mostly thankful that my family chose to establish themselves here. In Kansas City. Maybe, had I been born elsewhere, I wouldn't have such a content feeling about my city. Had I been born elsewhere, I definitely wouldn't dine out at the most seemingly obscure of places and run into 10 people that I know, let alone are my relatives.

I know the world is filled with all different types of people. To some, this small town living sounds appalling, and awful. I assume they feel trapped. Suffocated. Stymied. Missing some larger opportunity lurking for them, out there, in the great unknown. I am not sure what makes one full of adventure and the desire to uproot. To me, more possibilities and opportunities await me here, in my village full of people I know, who know me. It's who you know not what you know, right? Perhaps, there are 7 degrees of separation for humans throughout the WORLD, but in Kansas City, there are only 2 degrees.  Knowing that I can enjoy a meal, a moment, a conversation, face to face, with a friend or loved one, at nearly any time of any day? I love it. It makes me feel comfortable. Important. Supported. At ease. Loved. And home.

I will never claim to understand the meaning of life, yet, I can't help but think, living in the right place helps you discover it. I will never insist that Kansas City is the place for you. But, thank you, God/universe/random chance for dumping me here. In this wonderfully large city of opportunity, and this small town of comfort and familiarity.

IU Girls Gone Wild: Destin.

The longest amount of time I spent, side by side, with any of these girls, is 3 years {because I was a freshman, and they are all older}. Three measly years. Three out of the four years of the most intense physical, emotional and mental training of our lives. We were swimmers at a Division 1, top 10 NCAA program. Unique to swimming, specifically women's swimming, are the sheer number of hours spent training. We swam in the morning for 2 hours - or, if you were sprint group, played "follow the leader" skipping around the pool deck. We ate. Went to school {napped}. Came back for more training, consisting of running, dry land, weights, jump rope, or other such plyometrics. Then 2-3 hours in the pool. Again. Then, Training Tables at the Stadium for dinner, with all the football players, basketball players and other athletes, probably consuming no less than 2,500 calories in one buffet meal, per night. Wednesdays we slept "in". Sundays we got "off". We got a week or two off of training in the Spring, and again in the late Summer. I would still run a bit, because after a month long taper, and a few days out of the pool, I would begin to get "out of shape". Ha!!!!!! I thought I was getting 'out of shape' after a few days of less than 6 hours of working out! For 12 years of my life, I didn't go more than 10 days without swimming. Ever. Now, after years of medical training, I am flabbergasted than none of us were hospitalized with Rhabdomyolysis. And, I'm not sure that I didn't have a mild case after an hour of box jumps, then a night of dancing to 17th Floor. I literally could not use my calf muscles to walk, let alone push off the wall for flip turns. These ladies went through the same; were the same.

We spent endless hours at the pool together, in the weight room, in the locker room, on buses, a private jet even, the dinner table, the Village Deli, Bloomington Bagel, Nick's, Kilroy's, running through campus in our swim suits. Gross. We didn't even think it was weird. We knew what items each person kept in their locker, how long they had been there. We knew each others favorite foods, TV shows, music, clothes. We weathered more break ups, scandals, love, hate, joy, fear, desire, disappointment, success, and exhaustion in those 3 {4} years, then most people will in a lifetime. Despite a 10 year time lapse since we last spent every waking, and sleeping hour together, we reverted to our 21 year-old selves. Only with a midnight-ish curfew.

Anne and I quickly settled into our comedy routine, where we make things funny by simply repeating them 60-75 times in a slightly different manner each time. Though, Susan makes it pretty easy to laugh, when she excuses herself from our romp in the ocean to "go jump off the sand dune." Anne wades over to me and says, "Ummm, Smitty? Do you see any sand dunes from which you might be able to jump into the ocean?" I scan the area, "no". Anne replies, "Oh. Ok. Because Susan has just informed me that she is going to go jump off the sand dune." I look again, "Nope, unless she means..." I am about to finish my sentence with "...the slight ledge of sand that is the bank, and has more sand below it" but I couldn't, because I see Susan backing up to, indeed, jump off the embankment. Anne and I watched silently as she runs, then jumps with the biggest of smiles, lands, and disappears {aka, falls}. I am still coughing due to the salt water I aspirated from laughing so, so, so incredibly hard. Anne and I cannot even speak for minutes, as we watch the other girls jump to their feet. I can only imagine the view from the lounge chairs, Susan must have seemingly disappeared off a ledge to them! Not to mention that she still swam out to meet Anne and I in the ocean, actively bleeding from her sand burn abrasion...sharks can smell that stuff!  We are all lucky to have survived. Anne and I will laugh about this, regularly, and every time we see Susan, for the rest of our lives. We just will.

Though we immediately reverted back to our college days, and we all seemingly have maintained the same personalities, outlook, demeanor, our lives have changed drastically. The seven of us have experienced so many things in the past 10 years. There are 2 doctors, a PhD, 2 coaches, a big name in USA Swimming, 9 boys - 6 & under, one on the way. Marriages, surgeries, babies, losses, moves, break ups. Truly, as we all sat and talked of where we had landed, we remarked how the saying "if we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours right back" remains true. We have only kept in touch via infrequent email, text, social media and even rarer, actual phone call. We reunite about once a year, nearly every year, with a couple years missed in between. So hearing about our lives, in person, was refreshing, eye-opening, and shocking, even, at times.

There is such a large part of me that only these girls understand. Often, and especially now, during my search for a job, I think to myself, you have no idea what kind of person with which you are speaking. You will never find a more committed, devoted, hard-working, loyal, persistent, driven, or happy human, mom, employee, friend, wife, sister, daughter, co-worker. But the IU ladies? They know. We all know. No matter what life hands any one of us, where it takes us, what we may look like to the outside world, in our hearts, we know that not only every single one of us is AMAZING, but that someone else knows it too. And that, feels wonderful.

Sweater Party, 7th Annual....er, is it 8th??

I think I have been calling this the 7th Annual O'Laughlin Ugly Christmas Sweater party...but, upon further investigation, turns out that was last year.  This is the EIGHTH!!  Right in tune with my time-lapse related mistake, a lot of the conversation this year involved marveling at the swift passage of time. People were shocked Brock was 5.  Shocked that it's been well over 10 years since we were all in high school.  One of my closest friends, and godparent to me third child, even remarked, it's been 13 years since she has lived in Kansas City (which will change this Summer!)  A few others, who are still single, mentioned that their grandparents have started to suggest that the "biological clock" will soon stop ticking. Yet, none of us really feel older. (And I know a lot of 40 year olds not having children.)

I frequently feel guilty for assessing my patients' metal status by asking the date.  It is pretty rare that I can answer that question without significant hesitation. I recently made the mistake of suggesting that it has only been 5 years since I retired from swimming, but alas, we are approaching 9 years! Year after year passes faster and faster. When [if] I'm 90, I will blink and be 91.  This whole time thing becomes even crazier when put in context of having children.  Thinking back to college, it feels like that was merely a brief moment in my life, yet, Matt and I have produced 4 offspring.  Four additional human beings.  Four tiny little people, running around our home, impacting our lives more than anything before them.  All in about the same amount of time it took us to get through college.  Which means, this too, this wonderful, amazing, extremely adorable time in my life will also become just a fleeting instant.

Besides pointing out that we are rapidly aging.  That time is precious.  To seize the moment.  This topic made me also realize how truly blessed I am to still have a beautiful, evolving home, now 8 years later.  It points out that an endless number of things can completely change in 4 years, yet here we are, 8 years later, celebrating with all of the same family and friends.  Dressed in silly sweaters.  Despite the quick passage of time, the new jobs, the moves, the marriages, the break ups, the children, the travels, we have all managed to remain close.  So, let time march on.  Let us continue to reminisce about the old, fun times, whilst looking forward to the newer, even better times.  Perhaps, the 9th Ugly Sweater Party will be hosted in a newer, improved location.  Or perhaps it will remain at 4300.  Either way, I cannot wait to share my home, food, and time with everyone again.  See you next year.

St. Patrick's Day.

In the car, today, on our way home from lunch, unprompted, Brock states, "I really like St. Patrick's Day."  I agreed.  I have always like this holiday. And I liked it well before I could drink alcohol. For many reasons, mostly based on the fact that green is my favorite color.  Like, I intensely love the color green.  On a subconscious (or is it subconscience, wink wink) level, I think anyone with the name "Erin" has an affinity toward anything Irish. Also, it's a holiday based purely around what the Irish do best: friends and family.  You thought I was going to say drink, didn't you?  Sorry if this offends anyone, but the Irish are not known for their work ethic, intense business sense or drive to succeed.  Often, they chip into profit by bartering services to help a friend in need.  I know my father does.  I am quite sure half his income is services traded; a piece of glass for an oil change.   And the line between friends and family is a very, very thin one.  I have alluded in the past that my and Matt's relationship borders on incest, but that is merely because, to the Irish, a close friend is equal to blood.  Often, I am told people are my "cousin" or "uncle", but when asked to trace the bloodline, it rarely gets accomplished. The Irish are truly a jolly folk, who enjoy great camaraderie, food and drink.  And what are the holidays for, besides those three things?  Thus making, Saint Patrick's Day and wonderful holiday indeed.  A 4 year old even picked up on it...doubt it had anything to do with the candy being tossed to him while he stood shivering in the cold watching the parade.

Because I love this holiday so much, it surprises me how frequently it is neglected on my blog.  Like Thanksgiving, another holiday with long-standing tradition for me, St. Patrick's day is the same every year.  Perhaps the permanence of the routine for these days makes me skip over recording it's happening.  Whatever the reason may be, I am here to rectify the matter today.  This is my 3rd St. Paddy's day pregnant.  And not just pregnant, but 1st trimester pregnant, which makes EVERYTHING a little less enjoyable.  Yet, I still have a great time.  The Lillig's continue to have their brunch.  The crew continues to travel to Californos for the day.  And Mimi, or this year Martha, continues to provide a warm home with warm Reubens at the end of the day.  With drinking the whole way through.  I will always attempt to get the day off for St. Patrick's day, because, I, like my fellow Irishmen, love my family. And friends.

Christmas it is!

I always thought Thanksgiving was my favorite holiday.  And, I am thinking it truly was for a long time.  Growing up a few blocks from the Plaza in a good-size home allowed for tons of family members, and a great meeting place for all of my friends to walk to see the Plaza lighting.  But somewhere between my Junior Year of high school, and today, Christmas has taken the lead. I am inclined to say it's the arrival of kids.  Or the purchase of a home.  Or having a significant other that you really adore and love.  Or the sending out of what became a legendary Christmas postcard (which I somewhat regret). Or the hosting of a Christmas party with all my best friends and then some for 7 years running.  Or all of the above.  Either way, it happened slowly and without warning.

Our 7th Annual O'Laughlin Ugly Christmas Sweater Party went off without a hitch last night.  Great attendees.  Good food.  Fun.  Hilarity. And an awesome apron that I found at Tuesday morning. The kids until about 9pm, then were kindly swept away by their Mimi & Papa.  Except George, who promptly went to bed at 8pm and slept through the debauchery.  As Matt and I went to bed just before 2am, I said, "Thank goodness we have no kids here to worry about."  And he says, "Well, except George."  To which I replied, "Well, ya. I guess.  But he really doesn't count, he's a baby.  One baby might as well be no kids."  Ha!  Back when we had one baby, he hung around at the party for an hour. I was stressed the whole time. I couldn't wait for my mother to take him.  Everyone who has only one baby thinks it is a burden, time consuming, and somewhat stressful.  This quickly changes with the addition of more.

Mostly, I love that people can rely on this party as a meeting place.  All the out-of-towners know that this party is happening.  They know that when they come back to Kansas City for a short holiday stay they have an opportunity to see all their friends in one setting, on one night.  Many come here before then heading out to the bars. No more planning or scheduling necessary.  I also love having the "first-timers". I love sharing my home and friends and family.  I enjoy them all so much, it seems selfish to keep them to myself. And though we did not get the photobooth up and running this year (it's guaranteed next year...as I should have more time off, finally) it was still a classic. Cheers!

The Godparents

 

In the midst of the busiest time in my life, to date, I decided to have Maureen and Sean, two of the busiest people I know, to be the the Godparents to my third child.   This created quite teh scheduling problem, so George remained a heathen for over 6 months, but it had to be done.  Maureen and Sean were meant for the job.  Only a select few qualify as Godparent material.

Back when Brock was born, we discussed for quite some time who we would choose as Godparents, and why.   We both looked to our own Godparents and to our siblings' Godparents to come up with the criteria.  Matt's Godparent's are a married couple, Steve and Mary.  Steve and Brian, Matt's father, were BFF's.  Since grade school. Still have a lunch date every first Monday (or Friday, or something like that) of the month at a little hole in the wall Mexican restaurant.  This couple has proven to be great family friends and a great mentors to Matt, and now me.  They have visited with each birth of our own children, have hosted wedding showers, attended graduations, and have been involved in most every big event of Matt's life. A perfect selection.

My Godparents are not related, married or connected in the least, except that Marlys was my mother's close friend and Mike my father's cousin and friend.  I always felt I got the BEST set up, because I would get a birthday gift from both people, instead of one married couple!  And though, neither hosted events for me, both have attended nearly every significant event in my life.  Both have continued to be very close, great friends with my parents.  And both are wonderful people I enjoy visiting, and seem proud to be my godparent. Marlys still comes to my birthday dinners every so often.

Some of my siblings' had aunts and uncles as godparents.  But some of these have since divorced, and the none relative never to be heard from again.  Some of our siblings have a friend of one parent or another who have grown apart and no longer keep up with one another's lives, and perhaps have forgotten they even have a god child.  These are things we absolutely wished to avoid.  Therefore, we decided, Godparent's should be people that we know, without a doubt, will be part of our family for the rest of our lives. This should automatically make you think, SIBLINGS.  And God knows, we have enough siblings between the 2 of us to cover our current 3, and possibly 6 kids!  But, as history has shown, siblings don't always stay married to their significant others.  And siblings are already "aunt" or "uncle"...they have a title and connection.  Forever.  It's called blood.  There is nothing closer or more superior.

We looked at Godparents as a way to forever include our close, dear, wonderful friends who have shared a near lifetime of memories. These are people who visited the hospital with the birth of our children.  Lived in our home for a period of time.  Continue to come over to have game nights, drink, hang out, despite there being small children running around.  People who don't knock. Hell, they don't even call and will come in the house even when we are not home...maybe to just use the restroom because their hole in the wall Mexican lunch wasn't sitting so well, and our house is the closest destination (and they know they can get in without a key). People we knew, without a doubt, would be involved in ours and our children's lives forever.  People that, if something, God forbid, were to happen to us, we would be more than happy for them to take over the care of our child.  People we think will guide our children well and provide an excellent example.  We decided we would only have married couples if we were friends with both sides...that way, if divorce happened, we knew we would remain in touch with both sides [not that we really think it's a possibility, but this is learning from past events].

And that, is how we ended up with this motley crew.  Four members were part of our wedding party, five and a half years ago.  Jon Twibell and Beth Maggard for Brock.  Not married [to each other].  Good friends though.  And mutual, very close friends from high school for both Matt and I.  Jon was a big reason as to why Matt and I even met.  And Beth, well, she is like the daughter we never had (nor will have, apparently) and lived with us for almost a year. No getting rid of these two, they just keep coming back.  Gabe and Christin Olsen for Curtis. Married [to one another].  Now, these two were a hard decision, as Christin is not Catholic.  An original criteria that we opted to drop due to the fact that these two join us for nearly every event.  They are our go to couple in KC.  We even housed their chiminea on our deck for a couple years. They are those kind of friends that you don't really need to call or discuss anything with, it's just assumed we are all on the same page, and that we all want to hang out...but someone is the weak link in Sequence, and it's NOT ME!  Most recently, Maureen Walsh and Sean Gratton for George.  Married [to one another]. These two complete "The Quad" as we were nicknamed in high school. Though they have been out in Washington DC for 5 years, we remain extremely close.  No matter how many times I call Maureen for a "quick talk" we end up on the phone for an hour, or two.  And despite them both having a lot of family in KC, we nearly always find time for a visit when they are in town.

This Labor day weekend proved we chose well.  Despite three members being out-of-towners, they ALL made it to George's baptism celebration. They all happily and gladly indulged me in a group photo, in humid, disgusting 85 degree weather with 3 cranky boys.  Not pictured are a lot of other supportive friends and family, who are in the running for 4.O Godparents (whenever that might be) and, I am considering breaking the "no family member rule".  I know Leah would love to have the honor bestowed, and she is more like a friend than a sister often times...but not sure how things will go-just know that you were considered, sissy. 

Oh, and as for the ceremony.  It was beautiful.  Father Rush knew Matt's recently passed Grandma Genny and shared a great little memory from his interactions with her, and related it to George's new life's journey. George was dunked, as opposed to poured on, and took it like a champ.  He had a moment of panic, but by the third dunk, he was starting to like it...even stuck a hand in to splash.

From McInerney to McCormick.

Congrats to:

 Kaitlin & John McCormick 

June 29th, 2012

I think Kaitlin managed the wedding that I secretly wanted.  Absolutely, the most laid back couple ever.  When I showed up to the reception, Matt, who shot her photos, walks up to me and pulls up her wedding day "itinerary" on his phone and says, "Guess how much of this actually happened?"  I make a guess, and he points to one thing: the couple, did, in fact show up to the church at the appointed time to get married.  That's it.

I mean, the girl had a pool party for a shower! Genius.  Her bachelorhette party ended up at Missy B's (somewhere I have always wanted to experience, but alas was not able to stay out to attend).  I mean, our weddings were similar in many ways, her engagement was about as long {or short if your a pessimist} as mine. We both married great guys, with Irish (maybe Scottish in his case though) last names.  We both had beyond fantastic photographers.  We both had great friends involved in the day.  And we will both remember the day as perfect, beautiful and a great time!

BUNKO

All the way back in 1989, my mother started a group.  I know it was 1989, because she was pregnant with my youngest brother, Timothy. This group played a dice game once a month, on a week night, I believe it has been Wednesdays for these last 23 years.  This dice game is mindless, it is completely left up to chance, and was really just an excuse for a group of 12 women to get together, and drink, gossip and show off their homes and cooking abilities. It was mainly Visitation Grade School moms.  A few mom's of my classmates, a few mom's of my sisters' classmates, and a few mom's who were friends of the mom's with kids in our classes.  Kids were not allowed.  I remember my dad keeping us contained upstairs or in the TV room.  And all I wanted to do was go join in the game. And eat the awesome food.  My sisters and I would inevitably become overpowered by this desire to be part of the event, and "sneak" into the kitchen to nibble on food, and wave to our friend's mothers.

Eventually, by high school or so, we were actually allowed to join in the game if a sub was needed.  The pride, and joy I felt the first time I was asked to sub is a feeling I have not forgotten.  I also have not forgotten that I proceeded to win both Bunkos and Most Wins!  I think at that time it was a $5 or $7 buy in, which means I won close to $50...if my memory serves me correctly, it was $53. The mom's weren't real happy - no one likes it when a sub wins, and they definitely don't like it when the child-sub wins.

I went on to sub multiple other times, and not just when my mom was hosting.  I think they enjoyed my competitive spirit, and could tell I knew what Bunko was all about...or I am just the loser that was always available.  I prefer to believe the former. So, it dawned on me one day, I have a house, I have lots of friend's with houses. I think it's time the next generation carry on the tradition and begin a Bunko League of our own.  So I did.

We have struggled these first 3 months to get 12 players.  Lots of last minute drop outs.  But I am confident people will slowly make this a priority, as they see how fun it is.  And as we all buy houses, complete renovations, and learn to cook as well as our mother's did, we too, will enjoy showing off our goods.  The drinking and the gossiping?  We've got that part down, pat.

...I already have one!

I say I wish I had a twin, and today I was reminded...I already have one! Whitney. All you really have to do, is read this post, from a year and half ago when we were both pregnant with our November babies, Bobby and Curtis. It gives a nice little description of how exactly we seem to have been separated at birth. I would like to add, that since that post, we have both gone on to have another baby just 4 weeks apart! I also forgot to mention, that we both chose the healthcare profession, she as a nurse on the telemetry floor, I as a doc in primary care. And when we were kids, connected at the hip, we frequently got asked if we were twins.
Whitney and I left our hubbies to the kids, and set out to her family's new farmstead to go for a nice afternoon ride. We may have just traveled 40 minutes straight South, but to me, we traveled to a different world. A different time. In this world, I am living my little girl dream of having horses to ride on a whim. Where I can visit a beautiful farm, that is well kept and spend a perfect Spring day with a friend. And of course, the friend I always imagined to share this experience with, is the one who made it possible.

Whitney picked me up after her swim lesson with Bobby. We stopped at Latteland. Our favorite. We sipped our coffee and enjoyed some "girl talk" for the next 40, relaxing minutes. We got to the farm, and quickly toured the newly refinished, and furnished house. We were like kids the night before Christmas. We rushed out to get the horses. Found 7 (Butterscotch) and 10 (Buttercup), saddled them up, and went for a ride. We explored the trails, momentarily wondering if we were lost, maybe kind of hoping that we were, so that we had an excuse to give our husbands as to why we were riding for 5 hours. We trotted in the field. Then we headed back to the barn.

At this point, Whitney decided to try and canter a bit. Butterscotch wasn't really feeling it. He bucked, for what felt like 15 minutes to Whitney, but realistically was about 45 seconds. I watched, in amazement (and in a bit of panic as my horse began to become unsettled, and in helplessness as I tried to figure out how to help her) as she managed to get her feet out of the stirrups and jump off safely. With only a deep bruise to her elbow. Unbelievable.

We then sprayed the horses down. Released them back into the pasture. And set off to find Whitney's glasses that had been tossed from her nose during the bucking. Found them. Got a big bottle of water and headed home. With a stop at Taco Via to complete the day. Our favorite.
I don't know about her, but even with the bucking, this was one of the best days I have had in a long, long time. Being home with 3 kids, and then heading back to work had me feeling old and beat. For just a moment today, I felt so young again. I felt so independent. The day rejuvenated me in so many ways, that when I came home to my little family it felt like I was arriving after a long vacation. Thus, I even enjoyed my time with them more than usual.

What a Week.

For a multitude of reasons, I nearly drove my relationship to divorce due to house preparation for my graduation. I wanted the house to be put together, clean, painted, personalized, and organized before May 14th. I had no nesting instinct with either pregnancy, but the end of med school, implying the beginning of residency, aka 80+ hour work weeks sure did the trick. If our marriage could survive the last couple weeks, it can survive ANYTHING. Let's just say, our energy levels do not quite match. And it wasn't just the end of school, it was the beginning of Summer vacation. I wanted to be free of any pressure I might put on myself to get the house in shape for the next 5 weeks. Also, many of my close classmates were from out of town and planning on staying with us for a couple days leading up to the event.

Therefore, on top of getting things in ship shape for guests, I felt it necessary that I host a little hang out session with food and drink as well since half the people were already at my house. But, for me anyway, all of this was worth is when Ashley Ascencio (a classmate very familiar with the usual condition of my abode) walked in and said, "Wow, Erin, I didn't even recognize your house!" Job well done, I guess. I nearly replied, "whatever do you mean? It is always like this..." But I have never been a good liar.
It brought me such pleasure to have 3 of my closest friends spending the night in my home. Perhaps the coordination of showering, the sharing of a mirror to put on make-up, the other girls around to ask, "does this look ok?" all brought back some nostalgic feeling from growing up in a huge family with 2 close sisters, or living with my 2 closest Indiana swimmer friends for 3 years. Or, perhaps it was the satisfaction one feels in being able to offer some kind of service to a friend; knowing you have made life easier for someone, if not for just a moment. Or, perhaps it was the opportunity to show off my adorable, little family; so that others could witness the hilarity of Brock, the happiness of Curtis, and the laxity of Matt first hand. But mostly, I think it was getting to spend a significantly increased amount of time with some amazing friends and share completely with them in the celebration of our accomplishment.

We ate. We drank. We shopped. We talked. We stayed up way too late. We got up way too early. We didn't take nearly enough photographs. (I have decided that this is the sign of a truly good time, who has time for pictures when you are in the moment, celebrating?) We laughed at Brock for unapprovingly playing with the sodas in the cooler, dropping one, quickly picking it up, noticing that it was spraying and throwing it back in the cooler then sauntering away. You could almost here him whistling as to attempt to display innocence. We graduated. We then parted ways. And moved on to more celebration with our own families.Meanwhile, my own mother scrambled to get her house together for the graduation after party, nearly driving her children to emancipation. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. She opened her house and prepared food for the nearly 70 guests that attended the event honoring both Leah's and my graduation. I loved the opportunity to share a moment with all of those who had supported me throughout my rigorous education. And I loved the food. Man, it was a good spread - with very special thanks to Mimi for the perfectly tastey and adorable cookies. And Annora for the yummy tortilla roll-ups, and gaucamole, and salsa. And Wanda, for making my favorite cheesecake as a graduation gift! And, of course my mother, quite a talented hostess. The house looked beautiful and perfect. Allowing for celebration with the first guest arriving at 1pm and last leaving just before 10. My kind of party.I guess, what I am trying to convey, is that this past week will go down in history as one of the best weeks ever. All of this due, not to my actual graduation ceremony, but to all of the people who made that ceremony possible and enjoyable. The joy and love that surrounds me on a daily basis, became so ostentatiously clear. If I were an emotional person, it would have brought me to tears and involved a lot of hugs and kisses. But, alas, I am not. So, all I can do is attempt to convey my love and appreciation in writing. I love my families, intensely. And yes, I meant intensely, not immensely, as that is the way I roll.
And yes. My mother did her first keg stand. And liked it.

All For One...

...and all for love...??

Anyway, I have finally realized that recording every event in my social calendar is interesting to no one but me, and maybe the person(s) said social event is celebrating. And the only reason I record all these events is to fulfill one of my compulsions. Perhaps this particular compulsion stems from a shotty memory? That's just my best guess. (Pretty sure my memory is fine, I just don't listen sometimes. Sorry, you guys get boring.)So, in April, I had the pleasure of attending the wedding of one of our very own wedding photographers!!! The connection we felt with our photographers nearly 5 years ago must have been a real one, because Matt has done nothing but become closer to Eric and Neal of Lemonlime ever since. He even shoots weddings with them on occasion. There is a little group of Kansas City photographers who have all become great friends. And no one is shy of the camera. So, when a photobooth was set up at the reception, you can guess who was in front of that lens for a good majority of the time! Vicariously, through Matt, I have become friends with these photogs, and love them all. The chemistry of the group is amazing, and amiable. They have each other's back. I don't quite understand it, shouldn't these people be competitors?

Anywho, every detail of the wedding was thought out, perfect, and beautiful. Including the bride and groom themselves. You can't go wrong with a base of black and white. You can't really go wrong with confetti and giant balloons either. So, Congrats to Eric and Laura and thanks for the extremely unique and fun night.



And, as we all know, first comes love, then comes marraige, then comes the baby in the baby carraige...Molly Groebe took care of the baby part for us. She and Matt are expecting a baby by the middle of May. A little girl. Therefore we showered Molly and Baby G with some gifts, and enjoyed some tasty treats in the meantime. I hope the little one loves giraffes as much as Brock does, and we can't wait to meet Curtis' future girlfriend!