open and fruitless

It's been no secret that since William and I got married, we have been walking the long, winding road of infertility. It's a journey that has tested me in every facet of my being: emotionally, spiritually, physically.  It has tested our relationship as well as our relationships with others, and honestly my own sanity at times. My whole dream - the way I have prepped my life's trajectory- has been centered around three things:

1) Get married. 

2) Have as many children as fast as I possibly can. 

3) Live happily ever after.

 I cannot count the number of times I have said "Better enjoy this (Thanksgiving, Christmas, other family holiday) because next time around we might have a child; maybe two!" When that same holiday comes back around year after year, the stabbing pain leaves me crippled; thinking of the life I "what if" into existence that hasn't come to fruition - again. I find myself in the repeating thought of "not being good enough," and it slowly turned into the soundtrack of the last several years. The feelings of loneliness, isolation, and jealousy seem to periodically consume me; I could go on for days could go on for days about the overarching emotional ebbs and flows. 

But here is where this post takes a detour. This post does not come in a plea for a pity party, or to say "woe is me, look how sad I feel." It is for every couple that suffers in silence, that others might have a glimpse into what it feels like. 

It's important for you to hear from my own lips about the tears I have cried. When I see that yet another one of my dearest friends is pregnant, I feel unashamedly angry. I may love a woman to the depths, but my immediate reaction to her exciting news is not love or joy. Instead, I immediately jump to the same record.

 "Why does she deserve this?"

"Why do she and her husband get this so easily?

"I'm better at (insert life skill) than her."

"I deserve this more than her"

"Why do they get three and I can't even have one?"

These lyrics sound selfish and appear self-centered. But not for the reasons you think. These tears and complaints are not because of you, or the life inside of you. They are because of me. Tears come because self-loathing and -pity runs so deep in my veins now that it's hard to escape a blaming mentality. If you've met me, you know that I am generally a kind and loving person.
These pointed thoughts scare me. I try to stamp them out, but to no avail. Regardless, it is a learning experience. It is important for me to acknowledge how deeply this has affected my life just as much as it does other; that I would turn my back on my closest friends, like a dog cleaning a wound. My hope is that you would know that every time someone chooses not to share their joy with me, it hurts. And yet every time someone does, I still find hurt. It isn't fair; not for others and not for me. It doesn't make sense. Share anyway. Call me to be the person I should be, not the person that I'm afraid of. I am not my wound, and this difficult journey does not define me.  

I want for anyone who is young, still in college, still in high school (ahem you know who you are) to consider these words. To see that in broken darkness, the Lord might shine through it and say to you "stay in school. Invest in yourself, your spirit, your body, your education, your experiences. Travel. Know many different kinds of people. Have fun. Be young. Do what you're afraid of."  

It is not selfish to make yourself the best you can be before you get married and have children. I thought I was wasting my time in college because all I planned to do was get married and create a family. Surprise! That's not what I am doing, and your reality may be that it's not what you are doing either. But this does not label you as meaningless or that you are not worthy of motherhood. As the saying goes: don't put all your little eggs in one basket 

I want to bring attention to how hard it is to be part of a religion that focuses energy on one woman's pregnancy and motherhood, when you can do neither. Last year, at the feast of the Immaculate Conception, I cried the whole time.Why not me, Lord? Let's examine the way that we prepare girls to be women from the very start. I grew up with a baby doll in each arm and I have had a list of baby names since I was six years old. Honest to God. I know my own mother tried her best to encourage me to pursue other paths, but the world that I grew up in told me that being a mother was the highest achievable good. And the reality that I have discover is that this is Just. Not. True. The lives of the Saints overflow with women who did many wonderfull things for the Lord, without having children. Let us tell our girls about these women who found purpose in serving God in the way that He called her. 

When childbearing is the highest good that you can strive for, you feel worthless when you are physically unable to do so. I feel worthless. The Church spends copious amounts of time defending her teachings on why Catholics are open to life that it often seems to skim over the people who have been open all along, but have received nothing to be called fruits of their labor. Instead, those that continue to have more and more children, we raise up to be the standard of faithfulness. The Lord has a plan for the marriage of the infertile as well, and one marriage is not more holy or more a societal necessity because of the number of children they have. Parenthood does not automatically make a family holy. Living out your highest Christly potential, your vocation, and the path that the Lord has laid for you is the road to holiness. 

I want to place non-traditional parents on the proverbial pedestal. Husbands and wives raising children that are not their own, people who suffer daily for children whom they did not personally bring into this world. The parents of children who are not their same ethnicity, that are reminded every time someone looks at them in an odd way or asks an impolite question that serves as an inhuman reminder that her children are not genetically her own. I want to bring the the "Cool Aunt/Uncle" into the spotlight. Those who could never have children so they invest everything into their nieces and nephews and the community around them. The parents that have the courage to be foster parents to children for a single season of life. Individuals that step in for other parents when they will not -or cannot- provide for their family. These humans  are important; these are people that are necessary, and I would argue that it is almost more challenging for them to be open to life than it is to welcome another member into your family. These are people who live out a true Christlike journey: giving without expecting anything in return. 

I want to reach out and embrace the woman who is reading this saying, "This is me. Someone else gets it." Yes, I get it. You are not alone. So many women walk this road feeling alone and isolated and not good enough or not chosen. You are not alone. And you are chosen; chosen for a path that may differ from what you had planned, but a nonetheless special path. I challenge you to examine how high the Lords ways are above our own. Reach out. Talk to someone. Don't ever think that this is your burden to carry and yours alone, or that someone is sick of hearing about your struggle. Your struggle is valid, and is understood. Reach out to your husband, as he is suffering too.

You are not alone. You are good. You are lovely. You can not be a mother and still serve the Lord. 

Don't get me wrong. I love marriage, I love women, I love men, I love families, the Church, the Blessed Mother, and babies (Oh God do I love babies). But consider this: if you catch yourself scrolling through your Facebook feed whilst breastfeeding, please don't look at my vacation posts and wish to switch places with me. The grass is always greener on the other side. When you see someone who has been married for five years with no kids, don't wish that you still had her thighs. She would trade for your thighs to have tiny arms wrapped around them. Remember the childless while you labor. Remember the childless when your child wakes you up for the 4th time at night or won't stop crying. Remember that someone is praying for the blessing in your arms that you may unknowingly take for granted.  One in eight couples struggles with infertility. Someone you dearly love is carrying this cross. 

I leave you with these words from St Teresa of Avila:

Christ has no body on earth but yours;

 No hands but yours 

No feet but yours

Yours are the eyes through which  the compassion of Christ must look out on the world.

Yours are the feet with which He is to go about doing good. 

Yours are the hands with which He is to bless His people. 

Peace. 

Hair bows or Bow ties?

There is no denying that I am a girly girl. Growing up in the 90’s I really wanted to be the  girl in the Little Rascals gang, that liked to play in the mud, and always wore overalls, and was great at sports. But I just wasn’t. I was definitely more of a Darla. I wanted to dance and sing and have people look at me and tell me how pretty I was, and wear bows and play with Barbies and pretend I was Pocahauntus. I was a cheerleader growing up. Always around girls, and while I rarely liked the girls that I was cheering with (I spent several years on a team with no friends because I liked what I was doing so much). I participated in musical theatre and always had a blast, hanging out, singing and dancing...with the girls. I always had very close girl friends, even now I would consider myself a girls girl. Don’t get me wrong, I love football. But thats basically the only “traditionally male” thing that I like.

I never liked boys growing up. 

I didn’t think they were fun. They were dirty and sweaty. And rambunctious, and gross. And MEAN. The boys I went to school with were mean to a little girl that wasn’t willing to put up with any of their crap, who wanted them to be nice to everyone, and was really smart.  I never really had any guy friends, with the great exception being my cousin. I really liked to look at them, I had a lot of crushes, but in general, I thought boys sucked. Even in college, I hated our brother fraternity, with one very notable exception. I had casual guys friends who I consider wonderful friends, but even then the most important players on my stage were women. 

Where am I going? I lived in an incredibly feminine world until about 18 months ago. Then came married life. And a Pickle. And suddenly, I was in the minority. Okay, Pickles probably doesn’t count, but William certainly does. Even while William and I were dating I was still constantly with my girl friends. One of my best friends lived across the hall from William and I would always be between their two apartments. But here,it’s a different story. Its me and William. All the time. Just us. I went from flowers and friendship bracelets to a life full of baseball, beer, suits, and ALOT of pizza. 

In some way I think that my reluctance to be around “boys” is a direct result of the glorification of women. I distinctly remember the chant “girls rule, boys drool” being an integral part of my childhood. As the chant “Girls rule, boys drool” had affected me and I expected boys to suck, they began to expect the same thing of themselves. We were always pitted against each other. Maybe as a young girl it was better for me to live in a more feminine world. But I see a lot of negatives. 

As William and I inch closer towards being parents, I realized that I did not want to have any sons. William and I had always joked about how we were going to have 6 girls and no sons. Recently we were talking about our future and William said 

“You do realize its a 50/50 shot and we have just as much of a chance of having a boy as a girl?”  

What? Are you sure? I know that I will love a son very much,but the Laura in this conversation would probably cry if at that fateful appointment the doc says, “Its a boy”

Coming to that realization about myself broke my heart. What was wrong with me? A child is a gift from God, boy or girl, healthy or unhealthy, ugly or beautiful. I needed to fix this problem before there was any chance of a child for us.  In the hopes of bolstering my excitement about the possibility of a son, I made William stop talking about our gaggle of girls, started talking about our child (that doesn’t exist yet, just to be clear) in gender neutral terms and started looking for boy nurseries on Pinterest. These sound silly, but I had to fix this issue the same way it was created; simply. 

As I was scrolling through these boys nurseries, (I still have yet to find one I’m in love with, I’m torn between “Why can’t little boys like glitter?” and “My son’s gonna be a man, men don’t decorate with bunnies!”) something caught my eye that has been resonating in my heart ever since.

My son, should God bless us with one, will be William’s son. We will be charged with the same responsibility as our parents were, to raise our sons into men. We don’t have to raise boys like the ratty, horrible ones I encountered and retreated from growing up. We are charged with the responsibility of raising a man who is kind, courageous, honest, and strong. It is time for me to stop viewing my future children as an opportunity for tutus and dance recitals or a life of begrudging baseball games and boogers, to realizing what a child actually is; a soul. I needed to view having a child for what it really was; a responsibility. God gives you the child that he feels you can raise best. He gives you the responsibility to take care of a specific soul, feminine or masculine. 

Even though William was a terror as a child and my brothers,too, were kind of terrifying, they have become men that I am proud to have as part of my life. And raising sons, in my opinion, has made my mother a better and stronger person.  I would have the privilege of building and protecting someone to eventually be a partner to another woman, the way William is mine. Viewing motherhood of a boy through this lens, a mature Christian mothers lens, instead of the damaged lens that I have developed through my childhood experiences, set me back in neutral territory.

Do I still think that I would probably be a better natural mother to a girl? Yeah. I’ve had a lot of practice. In all of my years of babysitting I have had 2 boys and 10 girls. I sewed my first tutu last week and routinely paint little girls nails.

 Do I also think  that the Lord will provide for our family and will give me the tools, opportunities and heart needed to raise up a man for His service? Absolutely.

So, Lord if it be your will, bring on the baseball gloves, and the dump trucks. I am ready.   

magnum opus

My sister, Blove ( I should probably eventually write a post about why I call Anna "Blove", everyone in our immediate family and all of my friends know who I'm talking about, but I imagine the general public is thinking "The Human's had a fifth kid? Don't they know how that happens? And they named her Blove?) , received Confirmation this past weekend, May 16th. She took the name Therese of Liseux, probably because the poor thing has had my devotion to her shoved down her throat since birth. Or because Blove is definitely the Little Flower of our family. Actually, all my siblings confirmation saints are very indicative of their personalities and role in our family. Kinda cool.

I wanted to commemorate this occasion with something really special, but had several limitations like money, distance that needed to be travelled, and most of all wanting to keep in mind that this wasn't some version of "Catholic graduation". We had already gotten her something in Rome the year before, which she hasn't gotten yet because I forgot to pack half of the things I wanted to bring on the trip. I put my brain to work. I had been wanting to make a t shirt quilt for myself for quite a while, but my family is holding my t shirts hostage. I decided a quilt of Blove's favorite things up to now would be a perfect gift. A momento, that I thought would be cost efficient, could travel well and could save all of her trinkets from her journey thus far.

I learned lots of things about myself during this project.
1)I like to finish things in one sitting and with this project it was NOT gonna happen. There are so many dadgum steps! It literally took me the entire semester, which was probably good because William got all A's and one B+ which I will attribute to his hard work and dedication and my being distracted by this behemoth.
2) Unless something is really messed up, I usually go with the first thing (whatever it may be, try, outfit, hairstyle) that I determine satisfactory. I am always going for a base hit and never a home run. If the stitches were a little crooked, I was like "eh, there are so many, she won't notice." I don't know whether this is a good trait or bad trait, but I was pleased that it was something about myself that I could finally put into words and had a concrete example for.
3) I really love my sister. There were a few times when I was getting really frustrated and I wanted to give up and just buy her something. But I am so proud of the final outcome and it is something she can keep and cherish forever and thats not something I could have bought.


 I used this tutorial, which was a perfect resource. Despite what I swore up and down to my husband after I finished Blove's, I am already working on a second and I am gathering up materials for the third one, that will probably be much prettier because I let all the screw ups happen on Blove's.

The perpetual helper, or nuisance

before binding

one row at a time

One of my favorite squares, I drew this on gold lame
and then razored it out. 

Squares

1) Blove 2) A Minnie Mouse pillowcase we both used. 3)Owls 4) St Therese quote "The only thing I really wish is to love, until I die of Love." 5) a softie 6) uhhhh a pretty print, that may or may not have been a shower curtain at some point in its life. 7)Wedding picture 8) Music notes 9) My favorite square, a picture of her from when she was a little girl, with her monogram. Photo cred to Wendy Farnum Weinert. 10) Cupcakes 11) The other side of the Minnie pillowcase 12) A Grace collage 13) The words to i carry your heart by e.e. cummings 14) a picture of her and me when she was about four 15) The page from The Hunger Games where Katniss volunteers as tribute 16) Wedding picture 17) The sheet music for You'll Be in my Heart by Phil Collins (our song) 18) Baking owls 19) Family picture and the classic Blove and Thomas picture with some more softie. 20)The Mockingjay 21) The sheet music from Blove's eighth grade solo "Tale as Old as Time" 22) Frozen 23)Her middle school 24)....more shower curtain. 25)Cam's Panthers jersey 26)fabric from the very first skirt I sewed for her and animal print (two birds, one stone) 27) Her high school

Truly a labor of love. Oh and an important note, this "quilt" actually isn't quilted. When I was ready to start quilting, I realized my sewing machine didn't have the appropriate accouterments and was running out of time. Heeee :-)

Let It Go

The Rant: Let It GO

Yesterday, I was thinking about life and decisions. Maybe, mostly, because I have been listening to "Let it Go" from Frozen, on repeat. Probably more than any little girl in America. And it occurred to me that a lot of our decisions are made on assumptions, best guesses, and "educated guesses". Elsa hurt Anna so badly by assuming that she would hurt Elsa with her powers. We were encouraged to make these kind of presumptions in school to help us take tests and make important decisions. It is a very important skill, you take past experience and apply it to your current situation and VOILA! A decision! A supposition. A choice. A judgement. Wow, that was a quick decline.

I was talking with Mr. McKenna, the younger, the other day about someone. I said that I didn't like someone that we knew a long time ago. He asked "How do you know? You aren't the same person you were then and I am guessing neither are they."
And it dawned on me how many experiences, people, places, things, ideas and thoughts we just dismiss because of our assumptions. 

How much love, support, money, food or fun are you missing out on because of fear? How many fun nights, new experiences, and lifelong friendships are you missing out on because you are afraid of the idea you have in your head of how that person will react to you or how something will taste or how awkward that interaction might be.

I have been a victim of this presupposition before as I'm sure I have been the deliverer of such judgement. I have had people say, "I wasn't sure I wanted to be your friend because I thought you might judge me."  Not only did they miss out on a great friend, but so did I. Someone was not only afraid of my judgement, but also at the same time, made an assumption, a judgement against me. WHAT ARE YOU MISSING BECAUSE OF FEAR OF JUDGEMENT?

I feel like a lot of people miss out on relationships because they are afraid of what the other person thinks. I THINK it is high time we moved away from such ridiculousness and started making judgement calls on people based on their actions. What we should be concerned with is the way that people conduct themselves, the way they treat others. You are never going to agree with everything someone thinks. What would make you unique if you did?

 I am never going to accept and agree with everything that you think. Just like you are never going to accept and agree with everything I think. Why should we miss out on each other? You may want me to think that communism is the way to go and the best way to structure my life, but guess what, I think that Jesus Christ is the way, the truth and the life. And you are no closer to accepting that, than I am to accepting communism. THAT'S OKAY.  Let's celebrate our difference, together.

This particular matter is one of my biggest wounds. I have someone that I daily hold in my heart that will not speak to me because of what they mistakenly think I believe. No, they never asked. They assumed. They thought the worst of me and dismissed me, because they thought that is what I would do to them.

Here it is. The call to action! Reach out to the person you think you won't get along with. Make a friend with someone different from you. Try a cumquat. Let go of your fear.

Spring Refresh

When William hears "tax refund" he thinks pay back debt, save money, and be responsible. I think REDECORATE!!! Here are some shots of the latest refresh of our living room.

I added some shelves in place of the picture we had over the sofa to display some of our favorite things. All gifts from people we love.

 I sewed some pillow covers to go over some ugly and outdated pillows. I am still looking for a good print fabric to make another pillow, but have yet to find one that has a good combinations of the colors I am looking for. I also added a picture of the Queen City to the big picture wall that leads up to William's office so he can remember where we are headed. :-)

 These are pictures that we used at the wedding, wedding pictures of our grandparents and parents. Then I took one of my favorites from our wedding and put it in the middle over our monogram. There are some other little trinkets on the mantle and I added navy curtains to compliment my color scheme. And there's Pickles looking majestic.

 Close up. Left to right. Grandma and Grandpa McKenna, below, Mr and Mrs. McKenna, Grandma and Grandpa Everard. Right side, Grandma and Grandpa Human, Mr. and Mrs. Human, and Grandma and Papa Reed. I left the picture crooked, just for Johnny.

 Once again our majestic pup, and the dirty fireplace. 

I will posting some more things soon, like pictures from Hawaii, Rome and hopefully some big news coming soon. 

When in Rome

So the much anticipated third installment of Hopefully Not... will be put together soon, as soon as my adorable husband is done with school and has slept a full 8 hours. Until such time, I figured I would work out the Roman Holiday!

We had a frickin blast. We were very Roman in our adventures, taking part in siesta, not waiting in lines, eating pizza, pasta and drinking lots and lots of wine and the most important part....gelatti! Love.

Everything needed for semi successful flight with the New Mrs. McKenna

 This was the view straight out our window, down an alley in Piazza del Pantheon.

This was a window much like ours. Pretty much everyday we opened the shutters and let the breeze and music float in during siesta. There was always someone playing accordion, violin, or singing in the Piazza. This honest to goodness was one of my favorite parts of our stay. 

 The Pantheon from our window.

Monday 

We arrived after a rough flight at 11 am Italian time, about 5 am USA time. We were exhausted because neither of us slept very well on the plane. So we took a nap (which would become a theme in our adventure).

First stop was the Pantheon. Obvi. Actually, I lied, first step was wine and pizza. Then the Pantheon. However, we were very uneducated and didn't appropriately appreciate its splendor until later in the week. 

Then we hit up the Gesu and the home of St. Ignatius, William's confirmation saint. 

 Well done, Italians. That's terrifying.

The first of many bottles of wine. 

William and his short little patron. 

Artsy fartsy window.

 A handy dandy mirror for being able to see the ceiling appropriately. All of the paintings were 3D, including the ones in the chapel in St Iggy's house.

The light pouring into the Gesu. So pretty. 

Around 5 pm we headed to the beautiful Piazza Navona, where we people watched, ate gelatti, and looked at all the strangely similar street vendor art.

Coconut and Tiramisu, the first of many gelatti nights.

The most beautiful piazza in Rome. 

 And so began my relationship with these dudes. It was my mission to figure out how they did this by the end of the week. I was unsuccessful, but I know its fake. I just can't figure it out. Curses.

 The dome of the Pantheon

 The first of many espressos

 The glorious Trevi Fountain

 And the hoard of people who came to see it.

Aw. Love.

I just love seeing that ring. Pre bedtime vino.

So that was day one. A Top Ten of the rest of the trip will follow! Buon Giorno!

Hopefully Not the Happiest Day of Our Lives: Part Two

The rehearsal dinner was a blast. Probably too much fun for this poor little restaurant slave that never goes out or has any alcohol. We had so much, but I crashed into sleep on Friday night. I had bought melatonin because I was afraid I was going to be rolling around in anticipation all night. False. Crash. World War 3 could have happened outside and I wouldn't have known. However, I did wake up at 6 am bright eyed and bushy tailed, much to the chagrin of my beautiful bridesmaids.

That's when it started. The stomach turning. The head ache. The heartburn. I listened to my poor little Katie throwing up in the next room and dreaded what I imagined was an impending doom. (Side note: she was SUCH a trooper. She looked beautiful and poised even though she was surely suffering from the plague.) Meh. What's wrong? I'm not nervous but I just feel like I could die. Sweaty, shivering, nauseous.  This is not what I had in mind!

The morning went by, everyone got their hair done, make up done, we had some delicious coffee, bough by a random stranger behind Kimberly in Starbucks. This is why I send her to do things like this for me. We narrowly avoided being sighted by William, because I secret agent dove into the MD McKenna's mini van and we made a speedy getaway.

The whole thing was such a whirl wind. As time passes, I remember seeing people that I'm like, "Oh yeah, they were there!" It was kind of like a dream because I remember very few specifics of the day. (Everyone told me this was going to happen but I don't really remember) But then, when I had a few minutes to be alone with my daddy, it hit me. This is it. Here we go. The actual wedding I can remember like it just happened. I was certain I was going to throw up until we actually said our vows. I kept trying to make our friend Cory laugh, but he was being serious. Who does that?

Saying our vows was one of the highlights of my day. I instantly felt better. I knew neither of us was going to back out, but it was still an option up until that moment and so the instant it was finally said and done, I was on a rocket ship straight to Cloud Nine. William said his vows like he was being sworn into the office of the President instead of marrying a girl that grew up not wearing shoes to play outside. To my surprise, I didn't shed one tear the entire day. Not so much can be said for my beloved Blove. She is so precious.

And now for the meat and potatoes. My top five of the day.

5) All of my bridesmaids putting my dress on- Now while my dress was beautiful, it probably weighed as much as a huge sack of potatoes. Luckily, I had the most incredible bridesmaids. I guarantee you that no bridal party in the history of forever has run a wedding like those girls. They worked so well together, protected me, loved me, did everything without questioning or complaining. They are the best friends I have ever had. They all took my dress out of the bag and held it up so that I could get in. With intricacy and the tenderness that only sisters can share, they put my in the dress that I had dreamed of my entire life. My beautiful maid of honor, the one who originally laced me into that dress, the first time, laced me up that afternoon. It was so special to me. I couldn't have imagined it going more perfectly. I also thoroughly enjoyed Megan putting my garter on. :-) Also be informed my loves, that the flash mob to Love on Top is number 5.5 on this list.

4) Be Thou My Vision- There is so much that went into me picking the song that I walked down the aisle to. First, having the blessing of having my father walk me down the aisle was incredible. I have always been a Daddy's girl. I was telling someone the other day about the massive tantrums I would throw when he left for work (in part because I watched too many Lifetime movies and was certain he was never coming back). He thought he looked like Big Bird, but I thought for sure he was the 2nd most handsome man I had ever seen. He was my first love and it was such a joy to be escorted by my father, a privilege denied to many.

The first time I ever remember hearing it was at Brittany MacAlester's wedding, when I was in high school. It was such a beautiful moment, it struck such a chord in my heart. Brittany had changed my life and to see her in such beauty with this wonderful Irish hymn walking towards her husband left quite an impression. I decided that day, 8(?) years ago, I was walking to that song.
The first time I ever heard our cantor, Rose, William's cousin, sing I was certain there was some 30 year old woman singing, but I'm pretty sure she was like 12 or 13 at the time. Such an incredible voice. The combination of those two aspects play in my memory over and over. I may be biased but I have never seen such a handsome sight as William standing at the end of the aisle waiting for me.  It was like magic. Finally. We were here.

3) Grandma and Papa's Car- Riding away in their car was like the cherry on top of the sundae of the whole day. It was my tribute to the beauty of their marriage. They celebrate 60 years of marriage this year and I pray that we may see and learn from their love.

2) The End of the Night-   to an outside to this event, I am sure that this was the weirdest thing that they ever saw. But that is how Belmont Abbey rolls. For our last 30 minutes, William and I finally got to dance and party with our friends.  We got to see little James, tear up the dance floor to "Ganghnam Style". He's six. It was nuts. After the horrifying experience of them picking me up and all the horror that went along with that, we had our last dance, I couldn't tell you what song it was to. It was so surreal. All of our friends were in a circle around us, singing and dancing.  It sounds weird, because it was, but it was so awesome to be surrounded by those that knew us best, celebrating us and our love. Then we actually did our exit with a rousing chant of "MCKENNA!"  Thank you dears. We will never forget that. I know that was one of William's favorite parts of the day and mine as well


You will have to tune back in for my very favorite part of the day. It is a blog post in itself. I am pretty certain, the post, like the best part of the day, will be a collaboration between my husband and I.  It is sure to scandalize, cause a stir, inspire, and embarrass. Be on the look out.