A Tearful New Year's Eve

This weekend I played host to four friends (new and old). The cast of characters included:

• Spank - my college roommate through all 4 years; one of my closest friends
• Jess - a college friend; one of my closest friends
• Fe - Jess’ cousin, ergo my adopted cousin
• Cassie - Jess’ roommate’s cousin/Jess’ friend, ergo my friend

Having 5 girls under one roof and traipsing all around Boston is kind of like herding cats. Very long-haired cats (I vacuumed before everyone arrived, and yet had Texas-sized tumbleweeds rolling through my house last night).

In September we set the plans in motion to attend a legit New Year’s Eve ball. Having said that, I think New Year’s Eve is the perfect holiday for 5 girls to be together. It requires alcohol, pretty dresses, makeup, fun accessories, cute shoes, dancing, and champagne. The only thing better would be a national holiday dedicated to cosmopolitans, and the opening night of “Sex and the City” came pretty close to that.

With Spank flying up from North Carolina and Jess and co. driving up from Pennsylvania (or “pee-ay” as locals call it), it was a total girls’ weekend. We talked about everything: tampons, makeup, purses, worst dates (I won), hair products, and ate junk food, had too many drinks, and laughed until we cried.
Only in the past few years have I recognized that my friends and I are not quite like my siblings and their friends. Or my parents and their friends. And that’s a good thing.

From my two oldest friends who I’ve known since kindergarten, to my gaggle of college friends, to the new friends I’ve made in Boston, we’re all very welcoming of our hearts and our homes.

When visiting, it’s never a question of where to stay or what the nearest hotel is, it’s implied that we’ll be copping a squat on whatever couch/Instabed/spare bed is available. And we’ll be happy wherever we land.
When it’s time to eat, we all help in food preparation and clean up. For example, a year ago my college friends and I met for our annual Christmas-in-January weekend and had breakfast at one of their homes. She had a three-or-four month old baby and was running behind schedule. So we immediately dispersed — one person on sausage/bacon, one person on panCAKs, one person setting the table, one person entertaining the baby, and so on until everything was taken care of and everyone was fed.

The best part is that my friends are contagious with their giving. A few years ago when my family stayed at a beach house on the Jersey shore (not like how you’re picturing it), Jess and Kristen (one of my kindergarten friends) came to visit. As my sister struggled to bring her one-year-old son, her cooler, chair, diaperbag, canopy tent, baby tent, baby pool, and baby toys out to the beach, my friends sprung to action — one took the baby, one carted everything to the beach, and one set up camp. Better yet, that night when it was time for bed, Kristen slept on a fold-out bed balanced on a stack of paperback books.

It’s so normal for us to eat and sleep at each other’s homes, that when I stayed with my friend John this fall, I couldn’t fathom why my sister was so puzzled. She used her “I’m-the-big-sister-and-am-being-obviously-nosy-about-your-love-life” voice when she asked, “So…Heidi…who’s this friend of yours?” And I laughingly said, “My friend John? I worked with him and I’ll be hanging out with him and his wife.” To which she replied, “His wife? And she’s ok with you sleeping over?” I was just as puzzled when I said, “Well yeah. Why wouldn’t she be? We’re all friends.”

Of course my mom, the warmest of all warm fuzzies, thinks it’s wonderful that I maintain such close relationships and have good ol’ fashioned sleepovers all the time. She loves to hear about all of us hanging out, laughing, eating, and essentially acting like one big family.

Therefore, for New Year’s Eve, there was nothing better than being able to ring in the new year with some of my closest friends. Sadly, the NYE ball organizers had skimped on bartenders and champagne flutes (opting instead to pour out Nyquil shot-sized portions) so as the countdown started, I was still in line. As the countdown continued, I bailed on the line and burst onto the dance floor amid my circle of friends just as the crowd shouted “Happy New Year!”

Little had I known, but my friends had been majorly stressing that I, the one who orchestrated the entire outing, would miss the big moment. So when I burst forth onto the dance floor at exactly midnight, my friends burst forth with a few tears in happiness that we were all together. I don’t think even a bathtub-sized glass of champagne would’ve been worth more than spending that moment embraced in a giant hug and simply appreciating each other’s presence.