This past weekend Sophie and Andy had a lot of bonding time as I
went to Aimee’s bachelorette party,
attended her wedding shower and
went to Rebecca’s baby shower.
All three of us went to Angel and Marty’s fabulous summer party, where Angel officially announced her good news:
Sophie did a great job taking her bottles from Andy and I think spending so much time away from her was good for all of us. Friday night I felt practically giddy all dressed up, ready for a night out with some of my best girlfriends. And I had a great time. But a little after midnight I remember looking around Longworth’s in Mt. Adams and feeling, well, old. I’m not old, by any means, and I know that. But most of the women there, adorably dressed in fun summer dresses and high, high heels, drunk off of music, dancing and alcohol, were probably in their early 20s. They were probably working their first jobs, living with roommates in bad apartments in great locations and they probably didn’t have a baby waiting at home for them. I suddenly felt very much out of place, awkward and amused that I have become one of those people who enjoys staying in with a good movie, a glass of wine and the people I love most.
That said, the bachelorette party was a blast and I’m so thankful my co-maid of honor, Shruti, was able to fly in from Houston to celebrate with us. And I loved the fact that at the end of the night, we weren’t dancing in a bar. Rather we were on a street, and we were leaning against a fence overlooking an amazing view of Cincinnati, and we were just talking. For the bride-to-be, Aimee, it was perfectly fitting.
“Never be the first to arrive at a party or the last to go home, and never, ever be both.” —David Brown
