As soon as we found out we were moving, the first thing I did was plan our going away parties. Since I had very different visions for what the kids would need in a going away party (balloons, cupcakes, bubbles) and what we would want (tequila), I decided to separate them.
We had the kids party first. Attendance was looking a little dicey in the beginning.
But in the end, despite the fact that it was a Saturday in the middle of August, it was a day full of friends and fun, including guests who traveled in from at least two different states (thanks to the Pennsylvania Jack+Matty and the Connecticut Elizabeth+Grace).
We continued the party for hours afterwards at our apartment.
The next weekend was our official adult party. We kicked the weekend off with one last family playdate with our favorite key park friends. It was just as wonderful as always, with way too many bottles of wine and many overtired children at the end. As an added bonus, Uncle Chase was in town so he got to see how awesome it is to have kids.
The next day was the big day: our going away party. I picked the super trendy establishment (not really). It was weird, but it was the perfect venue for drinking with our best friends, visiting from at least 4 different states just for the occasion (love Balty Lindsay, the Pennsylvania Byrnesteins, Uncle Dan from Vegas, our Massachusetts brother, Aunt B from CT, and I’m sure I’m missing a million people), as well as a couple fresh off their honeymoon (thanks, Abramsons!), two couple about to have a baby (thanks, S+S! You can tell the Rachel+Jon they totally blew it by using “labor” as an excuse to skip; and to Brave Sir Boner & her husband, we will have to take baby ScarBo to this bar when she is a bit older), and a lady in the midst of a life marathon including new business school, full time job and real-marathon training (love you, Aunty V). We also ended the night at a super chic velvet rope joint, courtesy of Patrick, the coolest guy I know. If we were the type of people to compare our social lives with those of our children, and to do so in a competitive manner, we might tell Penelope & William to totally suck it.
After that we had a series of goodbye dinners, and drinks, and drop-ins; basically a wonderful outpouring of love from everyone we care about that made us really question why the hell we were leaving. Unfortunately, I am missing photographic evidence of our last ladies dinner (imagine the kitchen table from Golden Girls dropped in the middle of Brother Jimmy’s) and our epic Mexican feast with 1/3 of the Ginsbergs, but you can imagine (not to mention the epic steak feast, and epic burger feast, spearheaded by Ginsbergs prior to that).
But in the end we decided that (1) as much as all these people may love us, not one of them offered to pay us a salary to stay; and (2) it would be super tacky to NOT move after all of the going away festivities. So off to London we went.
Probably the hardest goodbye of all was to Zoila, our incredible, loving, exceptional nanny.
At the time I didn’t know how we were going to live without her, but now that we’ve been gone two weeks I have some idea. It ain’t pretty. The kids are losing weight, I’ve permanently lost my patience and the flat looks like shit. Zoila, if you’re reading this, consider moving to London. PLEASE.
The final goodbye was to our sweet little home, 1 MacDougal Alley. A hell of a lot has happened in that little space: it was the first place with both our names on the mailbox, the threshold we crossed after getting married, the door we brought both of our babies home to, and the site of some lovely, lovely parties. We may have overstayed our time there, but it will always be our first family home. Let’s hope it goes to someone who will enjoy it as much as we did.
So, actually the final FINAL goodbye was to NYC. It still feels like home but won’t, soon, I’m sure. Which is its own mini little heartbreak.