Viva La BSC (or spend time with your friends if you want to survive)

Sunday morning in San Diego, my alarm went off at 3:55 in the morning. I tried to creep quietly out of my room and not wake my sleeping roommate.  I did anyways, because she's the world's lightest sleeper. I threw my remaining items in my bag, hugged her goodbye and backed out of the world's smallest garage to return my rental car. It was early. I was leaving my favorite people and I was sad and alone.  We'd spent the last three days being overly involved in every detail of each other's life--like every detail. And now I was stuck traveling back to Little Rock by myself. Which means alone.

Pictures taken by my Canon 60D on a remote timer on a beach chair. FANCY. It wouldn't be a BSC trip without a mandatory photo shoot.

{Group hug, Everyone rudely scooted away from me, Friends, Act like you love each other}

Seven of my high school friends (Rhonda not pictured, sadly) met in San Diego to celebrate the marriage of an eighth. Out of the seven us, four of us spontaneously cried over the weekend over nothing but an overwhelming love for one another. It was weird--and sweet. And mostly weird. We've been friends for longer than we haven't. And these girls--they are really the people who taught me how to be a friend. I've been lucky to continue making fabulous friends since high school--and I owe it to the faithful BSC for teaching me how to love, and how to be loved in return. (Viva Baz!)

{Purple Pie Man???, Surprised yet confused, Family portrait kind of, Pregnant girls can't jump}

We sent over a hundred emails planning the trip--some of which were more focused on talking about Breaking Bad or making #reallyweirdhashtags. Lots of us are mothers, and somehow it worked out to leave our babies behind for a girls' trip. A 4 month old, 8 month old, 13 month old, 2 year old, 3 year old and 4 year old all survived without us for three days. We missed our kids and shared anecdotes and tips with one another--but for a few days we were able be who we were when we first met--girls who were friends and laughed a lot. And only cried a little.

{The Rhonda, Weird Standing Backwards, Amy's Pyramid, Come Hither Look: aka my belly likes Amy's butt}

As we emailed and debated and brainstormed about leaving our children behind, it became more and more clear to me how much we needed this time. My boys are older and were in great hands with Sol and my parents (yes, I left town on the only weekend in the whole month my husband could come visit us) but I still suffer from terrible guilt from not being with them. On the spectrum from being able to leave your kids at the drop of a hat and wanting to stare at them all the time, I tend to be on the creepy stalker side. This trip reinforced the importance of friends--and remembering who you are outside of your day to day existence. Whether it's being a stay-at-home-mom or working everyday--it's easy to lose sight of who you are apart from that. And spending time with people who have known you forever helps take you back to who you are and allows you to be better at what you do every day.  When I'm able to remember that I'm more than just Finley and Braden's mom, I really think it makes me be a better mom. Our day to day drains us--and it fills us back up to be around those who know us WELL.



{Looking for Whales, TWELVE FEET OF FUN, Manhattan Friends, KSU, Boston dwellers, Down with England?, Rach + Court}

All this to say, I love my friends.  I love that they give me a hard time about being bossy and don't let me get away with anything. At all. I love that they bought me aloe when I fried my legs and let me be the DD all weekend. I loved dancing with them (ridiculously) at the wedding and eating many, many Petit Ecoliers. And I love that they were all completely willing to take ridiculous pictures on the beach at thirty years old. I mean, I'm still a spry twenty nine, but they are so wise and old and thirty...

Viva la BSC.