Last weekend was so thoroughly saturated with estrogen that I'm surprised I didn't have dreams I was in a Masingil commercial. Timberly flew in from Nebraska and we spent the entire day Saturday hanging out, shopping, going out to eat and catching a chick flick. Gisela drove in from Philadelphia on Sunday for the baby shower, and by the time I hugged both of them goodbye, I had gotten just enough that I didn't feel the need to permanently lock them in my basement just so we could hang out longer.
That and I'd be terrified to deliver a baby.
Timberly had asked if I could take a few pictures of her to hang
in the nursery. I was so flattered that she thought I could do it
justice. So when the lady at the Wal-Mart photo counter said she
wasn't allowed to let us take our prints home without a signed
consent from the portrait studio, I took it as a compliment.
When Allison was mid-tantrum before the shower even started,
Gisela had the brilliant idea to take a walk outside. She was clutch
in more ways than one. She multitasked as a diaper-changer,
entertainer, apple retriever and most importantly, photo-taker.
Timberly checking her answers to a quiz about her
and her husband's childhood as I reveal which one
had a teddybear with German lederhosen.
Leah and I vowed to get the girls together before she and her husband
move to Indiana this fall where they both got jobs teaching sociology
at Purdue University. Miss Elena is four months older than Alli.
At the very end, after almost all the guests had left, we finally unleashed
them on the balloons that Allison had been DYING to get at for hours.
She went APESHIT screaming and batting at them and running at full
speed as the ribbons tangled around her ankles causing the balloons to
turn her hair into a conductor of so much static electricity that she could've
lit up the entire eastern seaboard. Elena was justifiably terrified.
Then we took a picture out front to commemorate this photo we
took at Timberly's bridal shower when I was pregnant.
There were so many moments not documented on camera, but I'm glad I have even a few images to remember the weekend by. And even though I wanted to cry when Allison's diaper exploded down her tights AFTER I had ripped her overly tired screaming body from her highchair AFTER she had grabbed a fistful of veggie dip off my plate and smeared it all over the tablecloth and my black pants, AFTER she stole another baby's Cheerios, AFTER she dumped her own snacks all over the floor for the third time, I'm still glad Alli went.
After all, a girls weekend wouldn't be a girls weekend without my girl -- crazy behavior and all.