Mom's Night Out

As I briefly mentioned last week, I made the 14 hour drive from St. Louis to Maryland with our two dogs and a car-seat-hating 7-month-old. Why would I put myself through that again? Well, to witness the certain nuptials of a dear, dear high school friend, that's why. And I will make whatever sacrifices are necessary for some free wine and crabcakes. 

The trip over was . . . okay. My mom flew out to St. Louis just so she could drive back to Maryland with me. (Will is TDY in Alabama, naturally.) We left Saturday around noon, so that my mom could have some time to visit with Will, and then we stopped in Charleston, WV for the night. My dad is actually driving back with us today (and flying back home to Maryland on Thursday).

To the meat of this post. 

My mom generously offered to babysit little Will on the night of the wedding, so that I could be baby-free at the wedding festivities. I was super anxious about how baby Will would handle being away from me all night, being that he hated the babysitter and separation anxiety would rear its ugly head whenever I desperately needed some time away from him for work and/or sanity. But bringing little Will alone to a church just terrified me. His new favorite activity, especially in church, is ripping my glasses off my face and beating me with them while screeching at the top of his lungs (which he demonstrated for all at Sunday's mass). 

He doesn't get it from me.

Spoiler: He didn't cry once the whole time he was at my mom's . . . he only (surprise surprise!) got a little cranky in the car when my mom drove to meet me at mass the next morning. And obviously was back to being a rager for the actual mass. 

Anywho, I was really excited to get all gussied up and have a big night out with mah girlfraynds. 

Parents of the bride in the background!! AKA Crazy Carl and Momma K.

{Dress deets. I used my fashionable friend's gold membership to get a killer deal, btw.} Everyone who commented on this picture on Instagram, A+ bang up job. Your checks are in the mail. 

The three of us were pretty shocked when we met up with each other and realized we were all wearing black to a wedding. And even more shocked when we got to the wedding and realized that we were the only ones wearing black. I mean, it is unofficially Fall! 

We were NOT shocked, however, when upon hearing our destination was a Catholic Church, our cabbie hesitantly asked whether we were headed to "a wedding . . . " with his voice trailing off because he rightfully feared we were headed to a funeral instead. As I struggled to walk in my heels (hey - it had been a while), I just kept thinking of the final scene from Death Becomes Her where Meryl and Goldie are tripping over their decomposing selves to Bruce Willis's funeral.

And since my personal photographer, Will Brez, was not at the wedding,
this lousy pic of the back of my dress is all I got.

The reception was at a really cool barn out in the country. The food was out of this world and I totally looked pregnant by the end of the dinner of steak and crabcakes. (I am convinced that the little black dress will be a fab maternity option when the time comes. Just thinking ahead and rationalizing the expensive purchase!)

Because I am the largest turd (FIGURATIVELY speaking here), I decided it was cool to hold up the women's bathroom line at an open bar/wine bottles on the table reception, so that I could pump.

Yes, I took a picture of it to send to Will because I'm a crazy broad and that's how I do. I came out of the stall to see about ten women anxiously waiting to use the bathroom. Oops. 

There was plenty of dancing, plenty of pumping, and perhaps a bit too much wine for this lightweight. The night was capped off with a midnight bedtime where I closed my eyes and did not open them again until 7AM. Seven straight hours of sleep had me feeling like a NEW WOMAN when I woke up, despite having to tiptoe around so as to not wake my temporary roomies.

It was a good night.