Parties. Everybody likes a party, right? Well, maybe not a Miley Cyrus party featuring her tongue, twerking and teddy bears, but generally, we all like to sit back and have a good time with friends.

Our family is no exception. When it was BC (before children) we would have a big party every year in October. Instead of OctoberFest, we called it Fest in October. And we invited everyone in our little world. Co-workers, new friends, old friends, and we even invited our geriatric neighbors with hopes that they’d be less than inclined to complain about all of the cars clogging the streets or the base thumping from our basement.

The only picture I took all evening was of the aftermath.

The only picture I took all evening was of the aftermath.

So when I found out I had less than six weeks to get my family ready and packed to move to Portland, Ore., I thought it’d be best to have one last hurrah. Most folks thought I was nuts, Hubby included, but he knew better than to try to derail me. Also, I figured it’d be better to have one date where we said goodbye to a lot of folks, instead of trying to schedule a bunch of get-togethers.

The movers came over on a Monday and put all of our stuff in the truck, so our house was very bare. Then five days later my friends brought over tables, chairs and booze, and I handled the catering.

It was time to party. One of the best things about our parties for me is watching when people from different facets of our lives intersect. A crazily ambitious MILF connected with an uber successful entrepreneur I met via social media. A woman who just decided to file for a divorce chatted it up with a woman who just finished a horrible divorce. And people who partied with me before kids connected with those who enjoyed slipping wine into our “water bottles” that sat in the cupholders of our strollers during afternoon walks.

My personal trainer was there, and so were my girls from my Sunday workout crew. Honestly, those women looked great in their workout clothes, but when they came dressed to our party, whoa. Talk about hotties! They are all an inspiration of juggling it all and taking care of oneself.

With all of the people in our house, the air conditioner couldn’t keep up, so I felt like a super sweaty host, but it didn’t matter because I was with friends family.

My most treasured part was one around Logan. His birthday is a couple weeks after we get to Portland and though birthdays are a big deal in our house, I didn’t think it would be wise to plan a birthday party since we won’t know anyone.

So the dessert for this party was a Spongebob birthday cake. Logan didn’t know about it, and  after many of us had eaten, I snagged my friend’s 4th grader to help me with the cake and I whispered to the adults that we were about to sing Happy Birthday to Logan. The candles were lit, my 4th grade helper was leading the way and we started marching and singing toward Logan.

The birthday cake was quite the surprise.

The birthday cake was quite the surprise.

He was very surprised, and to hear the chorus of people singing a loud Happy Birthday to my son was so touching I got chills. With all the attention, he understandably got a little shy, but it was a wonderfully priceless moment.

The rest of the evening was spent with me having half conversations with people, laughing at their hilarity and enjoying the beauty of all my peeps, my family. I was having such a good time, I forgot about taking pictures or capturing the moment, instead I just lived it. I love the immediacy of social media and documenting each frame of a memorable moment, but this was so precious to me, I wanted to live it to the fullest, no screens, no devices, only me and my family.

Thankfully though, I did have our guests sign a large picture matte that way I can put a picture in the middle, add a frame and it will be a nice momento of my Chicago family.

Unfortunately after the party, I found out that my Evite got shipped to some folks spam folder, but I’m working on figuring out how to visit my Chicago peeps once a year so that it wasn’t really a goodbye party, but a See You Later shindig.





The farewell party: Nothing like a little booze to help when it’s hard to say goodbye — 3 Comments

  1. I love neighbors who all enjoy wine together. My favorite summer scene was walking down the block from the train and seeing my neighbors all standing around on the sidewalk drinking and pouring wine as I walked up. As the kids got older and families moved away, it stopped, but I won’t forget it.

    • That’s sad to hear that it stopped, but I suppose that’s what happens when the kids get older and everyone seems to get busier. I am hoping to have a nice, wine-drinking relationship with my new neighbors.

  2. Pingback: The Stress of Moving Made A Little Easier | She's Write

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