There's something in the water in Philadelphia

As they so often do, Tara and Teresa are making big life changes simultaneously. It started three years ago when they got engaged a few weeks apart. A year later, they were married a few months apart, Tara in May, Tree in August. Shortly after that, both bought houses less than a season apart and now they're pregnant, and due only four weeks (nearly to the day) apart.

It's actually quite convenient for me, at least for the purposes of managing air travel and trips to various gift registries. After spending the weekend with them in the place that we all used to be young and carefree and crazy, I realized a couple of other things about the differences between the place they are, and the place I am. And I don't mean Chicago.

Every time they do something, it is the FIRST time I am exposed to it. They were the first people to get married, first of my close friends to buy a home, and while not the first of my good friends to have babies, they are the first who had it all planned out. And to be quite honest it's absolutely SHOCKING to me that someone would willingly sit down and map out what they are presently going through. I won't expound on the details, suffice it to say they are no longer in control of their bodies. And all they can say is how scared, uncomfortable and fat they are. (I've inserted the pictures above as proof of the contrary. They are both still skinny as fuck, and what's worse is that after having recently lost about 16lbs, I STILL find myself in the unpleasant position of wearing bigger sizes than Mrs. 7 months and 8 months pregnant above. WTF?)

There are things you and I can't even imagine about being pregnant that I can see in their eyes when I talk to them. Tara was continuously jabbing herself in the tummy with her pointer finger for the better portion of dinner one night when I gave her a funny look. She sighed rearranged herself in her chair and said, "the baby's elbowing me in the ribs, I'm trying to move her." I couldn't help but think, that's fucking weird.

I can't IMAGINE having another human inside of me. I am like a twelve year old who still finds the entire prospect completely sci-fi and disgusting. The results in both cases will be adorable and I really can't wait to meet them, once they're on the outside. It was super neat to see my pregnant friends, and sad too, I couldn't help but be reminded, both fondly and sadly of Stephanie and Alayna. Who I miss terribly. It was an unspoken influence on the weekend, my hoping for the best for my friends, anticipating the excitement to come, but also weary and cautious of the complicated responsibility they are about to take on. I know they will both be fantastic parents, just as Stephanie was.

From here in my (rented) apartment in Chicago, I'm happy that my biggest concern is whether or not to fork over an extra $100/week to hire a cleaning lady or not. (If Bryan wins, I am doomed to a life of Scrubbing Bubbles.)I am fully aware of the responsibility involved in child rearing, birthing, etc. And it's something I think I'll leave to the pros.

And I am Thankful for...

We've tackled our plans for Thanksgiving a little early this year. Good to have that taken care of! We're going to our real home to spend the weekend with Bry's family. I feel a little guilty for leaving my Mom to spend the day on her own, since I know the Holidays are hard for her, particularly since she and my Dad split up. Still, the deal with my Jewish boyfriend is that Christian holidays are mine, and secular are his. Thanksgiving has to be devoted to his family. And I think that's pretty fair.

We'll hopefully be staying in my boss's apartment in Battery Park, since I assume she'll be spending the weekend in Chicago. She and I live exactly opposite lives. Her apartment and job are in New York, yet she flees at every possibility to Chicago to be with her friends in the place that she calls home. My apartment and job are here, and yet every chance I get, I'm back in what I consider to be home in New York. Home, it seems, is fluid. I've visited this theory before, but I think I have about four more homes than the average person. Pittsburgh, Chicago, New York, Erie and Philadelphia are all considered home to me. Some of those places I only lived for two years, but I can't help but feel completely relaxed, content, fulfilled and comfortable there. Those feelings have come and gone over the years, but for now I feel pretty good about the opportunity to be in any or all of those places. The least of which still being Chicago, though it's where my stuff is, so it's certainly got its own comforts to offer.

The Thanksgiving festivities should be really fun. LUCKY for me, Jessica will be in town, so we'll be able to spend some quality Jen and Jess time together! She's already commissioned Bry and I to watch the Florida v. Florida State game with her on Saturday, which Bry is pretty excited about. And after two days with Bryan's parents, Aunt and Uncle, cousins and cousin's kids on the UES, a little afternoon beer and football downtown will do a body good! (Even if I don't have the same affinity for college Football that they do.) Regardless- GO GATORS!

The best part of this weekend (other than it just existing) is that it's going to be FREE. Bryan's parents gave us miles to fly there, and D is giving us her apartment to stay in. This just leaves us more disposable income to devote to drinking and debauchery, which are our two most favorite New York city pastimes.

This year, it's SUPER easy to see the many things I'm thankful for. Not the least of which is the ability to be in a place I love with the people I love on a day or two off of work. It's going to be a FANTASTIC Thanksgiving at home :)

More weddings and babies, oh my

I'm once again waist-deep in meaningful life events. It was bound to happen. An entire year elapsed without my having to attend any weddings or births, only one funeral, and now I assume they'll all just start piling up. Just like all of the babies my friends are about to have.

Between now and next June, a mere nine months from now, three of my friends will give birth and five will get married. (That's not counting last weekend's wedding.) So that's eight (nine) crucial life events in nine months, and as you can imagine, they're not being spaced specifically to accommodate my needs. Not to mention, God forbid, any unexpected sadness that might befall us. My schedule is quickly filling up! I can't help but be excited, despite the anticipated strain on my checking account. I've been bored absolutely to tears since November. Of course, I can't help but feel relieved (and a little bit jealous) that none of this is happening to me. But of course my time will come. It's the double edged sword of knowing you're with who you want to marry, and knowing you're not ready to get married. I guess that's two swords with two edges each...

My own engagement is contingent upon the fact that I agree- beyond a shadow of a doubt- that I am willing to procreate. Now, this is a topic LONG debated and weighed-in-upon by nearly everyone in my life. And it should be said that VERY few people are in my corner of the ring. Mostly, everyone believes that rearing children is an inevitable. Those of you who know me, know that I disagree. There is nothing natural or inevitable about sacrificing all of your time, energy and resources to devote to the care of a child who will drain you of them, and wind up hating you in the end. That's not even considering the possibility that said spawn will be or become physically or mentally ill, a psycho, a criminal, addictive, abusive, or in some other way AWFUL. I know it's pessimistic. I can't apologize for that but I'd rather have a better outlook, if it makes you feel any better.

Of course there's the alternative. Kids who grow up to be Astronauts and brain surgeons and save the world in some significant way, thus making all of your hard fought efforts completely worth your while. However when the same level of energy is devoted to the above serial-killer, somehow all that hard work seems wasted. You're left to your golden years torturing yourself over what you did so wrong.

All of this in their hip pocket, millions of people still decide to have children every day. And three of them are my best friends. I'm going to be a GODMOTHER in just a few short weeks, which is absolutely crazy. Tara's daughter Madison is my soon to be God-Daughter, and she's already got a Tiffany rattle to prove it. Teresa and Bear will be proud parents in just a few months, and Andrea is about to pop for the 2nd time any day now. All of my friends in Philadelphia are pregnant at the same time. Seemingly there is something in their water.

On the wedding front, last weekend Jeff and Corena's nuptials were in Portland Oregon- which you already know was BEAUTIFUL. Tomorrow Ryan and Julie get married at the Chicago planetarium, which boasts Chicago's most "beautiful skyline views". I concur. It's pretty amazing. The holiday season follows which offers a short break from the action, apart from some visits to see the new babies, and the christening of Madison Marie. Shortly after Christmas I assume that Missie's bridal functions will commence. Being southern, she gets to partake in literally MONTHS of endless bridal festivities. Brunches, lunches, weekends, showers, teas, things in pearls, things in dresses, things that hopefully all offer morning or early afternoon cocktails. I can't wait to drink a martini in pearls. I haven't done that since my brief stint in Charlotte, oh so long ago.

In May, Bill and Kelly get married in Santa Monica, our first black tie affair (at the Four Seasons, no doubt). A far cry from the self-sufficient farm outside of Portland last weekend. Each equally exciting in their own rights. The following weekend takes us to St. Louis for Natalie and Tyson's wedding and less than one month later we'll be in Charleston for Melissa Rowe, my best friend's, wedding. Cliche! Somewhere in there, Danielle and Y2 will be married, though details remain obscure. You can count on updates as they become available.

By this time next year I will be one of the ONLY unmarried girls still standing. I do have a few friends who are keeping the single torch burning, God speed. Finding Bry seemed like a marathon of bad decisions and even worse hangovers. But since then it was a SPRINT to the idea that I'd found my future. And crazier yet, it was already here. Time is continuing to fly, and I'm certain it won't slow down soon. My single friends are right to hold out. Once you find what you're looking for, the journey moves too quickly to keep up.

Some day, I might find a place in my heart where there is room for children, in which case I will be joining the ranks of the engaged and married and breeders in no time. I should be sure that doesn't happen in the next nine months. And if it EVER does, I'll be sure not to blink, or I'll miss it.

Portland

We’ve just left a farm in the mountains outside of Portland Oregon, where two of our friends were married yesterday. And apart from the standard feelings of some longing, genuine fulfillment, and joy that weddings tend to evoke, I came away from this weekend with something different too. For the first time in a surprisingly long time, I was alone with myself unrestricted by the patterns of my daily life. It’s been a LONG TIME since I had any real time to myself. And it struck me as being alarmingly foreign.

Each time I go somewhere, I am either furiously trying to live up to my own agenda, or the agenda of my friends or family. There is always much to do, many people to see. There is always a sense of urgency with each day off, which results in having quite the opposite of a day off at all. Vacations have not been vacations. Vacations have been to do lists away from the office. Regimented visits to towns where I used to live. A round of visits to my family or friends. Driving, walking or riding the subway through streets I already know, on my way to accomplish a string of errands that will fly by and leave me longing for any real time with the people that I love. Will I have even seen their faces before I find it time to leave again? I can never remember. All of my time, ALL of my money, all of my precious few resources are and have been for the past eight years, entirely devoted to leaving the past, followed by seemingly endless trips to revisit it.

The pattern consists essentially of my growing restless somewhere, moving away, longing for that which I have only just left, visiting, and then gaining some perspective and feeling more content in my new space, until once again I grow restless, and the saga continues. Each time I’ve tacked on a new place to the list of obligatory visits, and a person only has ten vacation days a year. For me, they are spent each year without my even having the ability to see all of the people I’d love to see. Not to mention allowing for any time to myself. Or to ourselves, in the case that Bryan and I could ever even theoretically agree on a vacation destination.

I found myself this weekend, however, on this farm in the mountains of Oregon, as I’ve just mentioned, and with no one contained by the surrounding few thousand miles to visit. Bryan being reunited with all of his college friends for a long holiday weekend, and gleeful at the prospect of drinking beer and playing golf at 10am every day, I found myself alone with time to kill, and no internet connection to keep me busy. So at 8am on a weekend, sweatpants clad, un-showered and ready for the lack of action that certainly awaited me, I grabbed my camera and headed out to explore the grounds. Initially I was struck by just how long its been since I’ve walked slowly, headed nowhere, purposeless and without direction. At the very thought of it, my entire body lifted and relaxed, and I said a silent apology to myself for being so damned purposeful all the time. New York has done that to me, I see now.

Apart from being the quietest place on earth, (how long has it been since I’ve been in absolute silence? I just can’t recall that either…) I found the farm to be replete with all of the usual treasures of the outdoors with each new step I took. All that I seem to have forgotten. There were beautiful flowers, herb gardens, rocks, grass, squirrels, trees, bugs and dew. The mornings in those mountains lasts nearly all day, and a chilly, gray mist hung over the grounds until it burned off eventually, revealing a spill of sunshine at nearly 3pm, graciously allowing me time for many, many cups of coffee and the absence of guilt for having not showered by lunch time. I walked by the green house and heard gravel crunching under my feet. Gravel, despite being a member of the concrete family, for some reason sounds like home when I crunch through it. It tells you you’re outside, and almost always somewhere fun. On a path that others have traveled, but not enough to pave.

As remote as it felt, we also weren’t in the middle of nowhere, I reminded myself. The farm had its bars and restaurants, a spa complete with soaking pool and your standard fare tacky gift shop. I browsed around, got a massage, manicure and pedicure, after which I met the guys for tater-tots and burgers, while the wedding’s officiator, first and foremost just one of the guys, worked on his speech. Then we napped. I read a book on the porch. I heard my own voice inside of my head, but not aloud for entire hours. Nothing had to be done.

It was a beautiful weekend, and the wedding itself was lovely. It’s hard to go wrong when a big group of friends gets together for four days with nothing on the agenda apart from celebration. And for me, it renewed a very real need that probably exists in all of us to have time with our own hearts and minds. Time unencumbered by the tedium of the day to day. I am SO GRATEFUL to have had this weekend, and my renewed promise to myself is that at the cost of a really full inbox upon my return, or hiring a cat-sitter to feed the small, furry man, a vacation is worth EVERY effort to make it happen. I’ve waited far too long, and intend not to make that same mistake in the future. My mind and heart deserve some time to themselves, and so do I.