Hannah was a dream in the car on the 7 hour drive to my in-laws house. We got a super late start, a combination of working late and avoidance of any sort of reasonable packing, so she slept just about the whole drive. We straggled in at the ungodly hour of 3:30 and sneaked up the stairs as quiet as mouses.
The next day, what started as a quick jaunt to the dollar store for more diapers ended in a half day excursion to every dollar store in the area before finally giving up and going to the nearest Wal-Mart 30 minutes away. Hannah came with me along with my MIL, mostly because she wanted to do some in person bragging at her workplace, a local nursing home. We stopped in, took the tour, said hello to several of the residents and most of the staff before heading back to an afternoon of relaxation.
Hannah was a total nightmare on the 2 hour drive from my in-laws to my parents’ house. Probably something to do with the timing of her naps and the fact that she exploded in poop at some point (OMG worst bathroom experience of my life ever) but we finally coaxed her to sleep about 30 minutes before we arrived. By “coaxed” I mean sang at the top of our lungs to break in over the wails and clasped her hands so she couldn’t scratch her face completely off.
And then the chaos began.
There was still a lot left to do for the wedding, and a lot of folks that were relying on each other to get it done not realizing that each other had their own tasks they were relying on each other to complete. Somehow we managed, but it was a stressful couple of days.
Thursday was the official gathering, when all the immediate family would be in town save for one Brother In Law. The MOH had planned a dinner and bar hopping Bachelorette party that did not disappoint. There was minimal hopping, though, as the guests began plying the bride with shots and champagne and free drinks during dinner and she got kinda stuck drunkenly signing her guests up to sing Karaoke at the first bar we hopped to. We shed a few guests as we weaved our way up the street to the second bar which contained one of the rudest waitresses I’ve had the displeasure to be around. We didn’t stay long, and before we took more than three steps outside, the bride shut the party down. I’m pretty sure we were all OK with it considering there was much work to be done, and many tiny children that would wake early regardless of the raging hangovers their mothers/aunts may or may not have. (I was totally fine BTDubs. Breastfeeding = DD, happy to reduce my out of pocket expense though ;))
Friday morning the bridal party and self-titled SMOG (Step Mother Of Groom) were joined by the mother of the bride (MOB?) to get our nails did. (PS, I can’t ever NOT say it that way. I don’t know if it’s just to counter balance how silly I feel going to a nail salon by getting extra country about it, but it happens every single time. “I got my nails did.” “Don’t my nails look purty did?” My dad would die!) Some of us shared in Champagne and juice (orange for Mimosas, cranberry for Poinsettias), others stuck strictly to the mini muffins and grapes in order to avoid upsetting the tummy any further. The nail tech team were efficient yet thorough and catered to our every need. It was a pleasant bit of pampering.
Friday afternoon, for me, was dedicated to freaking out about the last little bit of responsibility I had re: wedding tasks. My computer crapped out, my work called with urgent things, and my youngest sister had carted my precious baby out of my site for a very long time. (Everything was totally fine, and I trust my sisters implicitly. It’s just part of that obnoxious anxiety thing, worrying that she is being fussy or that she has spit-up on something important, or that she neeeeeeeeeeeeds me and I am somehow denying her sufficient care by letting someone else totally responsible and able care for her. I say again, stupid hormones.)
By 3:00, we had all miraculously showered, dressed, made ourselves up, and gathered our very important things to load into 3 or 4 different cars and caravan out to the rehearsal.