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Erin Byrne McElroy

@ebmac927

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Connector | Curator + Concierge | Project Manager & Event Production | Brand + Hospitality Consultant | Mom of #TheBrothersMcElroy #visionary

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Can't say enough great things about @frassatieagles 🦅Choosing a school for your family is a very personal choice. For our boys, this school has provided rich friendships, challenging academics, supportive faculty and staff, opportunities outside of the classroom for band, sports, robotics, and service. It’s a privilege and an investment in private education. The faith component is imperative for us as they develop into young men navigating life. Discover the Frassati Difference and consider joining this amazing flock!
🦅 Be an Eagle for a Day – November 11: shadow a student, attend classes, and experience FCA.
🏫 Fall Open House – November 17 | 9 AM–2 PM: tour, meet teachers, and learn more.
🍪 Gingerbread Night – December 2 | 4–5 PM: an Early Childhood Open House featuring story time, crafts, and snacks. by @ebmac927

I think my definition of luxury has changed.

These days, it looks a lot like having enough to share.

Enough food that nobody has to wonder if there’s more. Extra snacks showing up the morning of because teenage boys can apparently eat indefinitely. Fishing poles ready. Hooks and lures replaced. A fire going. Pizza dough on the counter. Space in the house and room around the table.

And the time and energy to say, come over.

Kellan and his freshman soccer teammates spend a lot of hours together on a field. But I wanted them to have some hours that weren’t about a score, a practice, a classroom or a headset.

Just time together.

Fishing. Football. Pizza. A fire. Foosball. Laughing and wandering around and figuring out what to do next without an adult programming every minute.

Sean and I created the conditions and then intentionally stayed around the edges.

We fed them, helped with the lake and the fishing gear, kept things moving when they needed us — and otherwise tried to let the day belong to them.

I didn’t take many close-up photos. Partly because I didn’t want a bunch of freshman boys worrying that someone’s mom was about to interrupt for a cheesy picture.

And partly because I wanted to be in the day too.

There is something generous about gathering people.

Giving your time. Your energy. Your table. Your backyard. Whatever you have.

Especially at this age, when friendships are still taking shape and the people beside our kids right now may become part of who they are becoming.

I’ll gladly spend on that.

Not because the snacks or fishing lures matter.

Because the hours do.

And maybe that’s part of the privilege of this season of parenting — helping create the space, then stepping back enough to let them fill it.

Sometimes the best view really is from the edges. by @ebmac927

The best cup of coffee is the one Sean hands me each morning.
Might as well have the beans be something special too.
@anchorheadcoffee @soulgrindcoffee @olympiacoffee @herkimercoffee by @ebmac927

I think I have the best seat in the house.

Somewhere on a sideline, in a carline, or making the after-school stop for chicken wings and french fries on the way to the game.

I get to watch them grow into themselves, one season at a time.

And every now and then, they humor me with a quick “just stand there for one second” photo shoot before they run off again.

Not a bad view at all. Be with your people. Love them out loud. Take the photos. by @ebmac927

Some places ask you to slow down.

Not because life has stopped around you.
Because something in you knows to pause there.

For me, Seattle University has always been one of those places.

The Chapel of St. Ignatius.
The Celtic prayer on the wall.
The images of St. Ignatius through the different seasons of his life.
A quiet daytime Mass.
The prayer book where, when I return, I put pen to paper and write what I’m carrying in my heart right now.

Then outside, the labyrinth.

Releasing.
Receiving.
Declaring.

Walking slowly enough to hear the city around the garden.
To feel the Pacific Northwest air.
To notice the light through the trees.
To breathe.
To listen to what arises.

I’ve been thinking about the places and practices we return to.

Not because we want to go backward.

Not because we are trying to become the person we once were.

We return with everything we are carrying now.

Different questions.
Different gratitude.
Different worries.
Different people on our hearts.

The place may be familiar.

We are meeting it again in this life, at this age, in this season.

And maybe that is part of what ritual gives us.

A pause in everyday life.
A place to sit with what is sacred.
A place to hear ourselves again.

Sometimes sanctuary is a chapel.

Sometimes it’s a garden, a path, a bench, a lake, a kitchen table, a familiar coffee shop, the driver’s seat before you walk inside.

A place or practice that asks nothing of you except your presence.

Return to the familiar.
Bring your present self.

Pause long enough to notice.

Sight.
Sound.
Space.

Listen to what arises.

What place or practice does that for you?

Where do you go — physically or otherwise — when you need enough quiet to hear yourself again?

Maybe name it.
Write it down.
Tell someone.
And return to it. by @ebmac927

We’ve never been this age before.
Neither have the people we love.

One of the gifts of getting older is realizing that long friendships aren’t special just because they’ve lasted. They’re special because we keep meeting each other again in the lives we’re living now.

There was a time when Torie made sure I was fed, helped with laundry, and made Seattle feel like home while I was in grad school.

Now, all these years later, being together looks like…

A soccer game.
A charity event.
A shared meal.
A cozy couch.
A friend’s pet.
A walk through the market.
A city full of memories, and a friendship still alive in the present.

Not because nothing has changed.
Because we have.

Our kids are growing. Our parents are aging. Life keeps adding layers we couldn’t have imagined when we first knew each other.

And maybe one of the best things we can do for the people we love is to stay curious about them.

Not just who they were.
Not just who we remember them to be.
But who they are now.

Stay curious about the people you love.
They’re still becoming. So are you. by @ebmac927

There’s something special about noticing the hard work while you’re still in it.

Even for a Chicago Bears fan, curating a client experience at the United Club at Levi’s Stadium is pretty impressive. Especially when the guests have a great time, the work comes together, and you get to do it alongside fierce women you genuinely admire and respect.

Win. Win. Win.

I call it the best, highest outcome for all. It’s a mindset I keep coming back to — looking for the place where the client wins, the team wins, the people around you win, and you leave grateful you got to be part of it.

Because sometimes the work is the life, and sometimes the life is the work.

And then I try to remember: be where you are.

If work gets me close to Seattle, I’m going to Seattle.

Before the spring of 2001, it had never really occurred to me to head west. And somehow, Seattle picked me. I went to grad school at Seattle U while, at the very same time, Sean was working at Boeing. We wouldn’t meet until Chicago called us both home, but that shared Seattle chapter became one of the things that connected us so quickly when we finally did.

Life is funny like that.

And sometimes it gives you a reminder right outside the airplane window.

The Mountain. Pacific Northwest air. Friends who became family. A city that still feels like part of my story.

It isn’t hard to be grateful when you remember to actually notice.

Notice the hard work.
Notice the good people.
Notice the view.

Be where you are. Be in awe.

The hours aren’t the part between the life.
They are the life. by @ebmac927

The hours aren’t the part between the life. They are the life.

Today the hours looked like salty air, sand under my feet, cold Pacific water, a drive through the mountains, a stranger telling me where to find the right trail, tiny clovers on the forest floor, hugging a giant tree and staying long enough to watch the sunset.

And somewhere in all of that, I was also here for work.

I don’t take that for granted — the work I get to do or the places it takes me. But I also don’t want to treat everything around the work like it’s just the space between the important parts.

It’s all the important part.

And even thousands of miles from home, I wasn’t really disconnected from it. Sean following my little dot around on our shared map. A picture from the soccer pitch sent by a college friend whose son happened to be playing against mine. Texts from home while I’m standing under trees that have been here for hundreds of years.

Connected there. Connected here.

Connected to my people. To new people. To the place I’m standing. To something much bigger than whatever was on my calendar that day.

Last Friday it was cactus and desert in Tucson. This weekend it was crisp Midwest fall with family and friends. Today it was mountains, ancient forest, sand and the Pacific.

That feels pretty extraordinary when you actually stop long enough to notice it.

Use your hours. Be where you are. Stay in awe. by @ebmac927

The hours aren’t the part between the life. They are the life.

Less than 24 hours from Tucson to home, school buses, parent-teacher conferences, work Zooms, a pink wig and tutu, and showing up for the fun stuff too.

And that was only the first half of the day.

Still ahead: a doctor’s appointment, rainy soccer sidelines and Friday night lights.

Full life. Good people. Hours well spent.

Be with your people. ❤️ by @ebmac927

…Don’t stop believing…🎶

Today is a really great day. ❤️
My dad, Rog, is coming home — and the Sox are advancing. For a South Side guy, that’s just about the perfect way to celebrate.
⚾️🖤🤍

After being away from home since late March — through hospitals, a brutal spinal infection, and most recently an incredible stretch of care at Greek American in Wheeling — my dad is finally heading back home to Vernon Hills. 💙

There are still challenges ahead, but he is in better health, has regained more mobility than we’ve seen in the last year, and his quality of life has improved. After months that often felt like everything was spiraling beyond our control, today feels like gratitude, trust and a huge win.

So many of you have prayed for him, checked in, cheered him on and asked about my mom through all of this. Please keep it coming. Call Rog. Send a card. Blow up his phone. Stop by for a visit or a meal. We can’t guarantee he’ll call you back because… he’s Rog. 😂 But it matters more than you know.

And to everyone who has checked in on my mom, too — thank you. Caregiving is hard, and having him home is a gift for her and for all of us.

Recently I celebrated a birthday, and getting my dad home a few days later is about the best gift this daughter could ask for.

Welcome home, Rog. Keep the prayers, calls, visits and cheering coming. I surely won’t stop believing, in my Dad and the White Sox! ❤️ by @ebmac927

One of the best parts of this season of life is getting to witness my boys at theirs.

Kellan — driven, steady, competitive, growing more independent by the day.

Toran — creative, funny, curious, and completely his own person.

And me, at this age, getting to watch them at theirs.

Through the unanswered texts. The “apparently I should know…” moments. The rides. The pickups. The packed lunches. Hosting their friends. Bringing snacks for the whole team.

Loving them out loud. Being their biggest cheerleader. Realizing some of the very best parts of my day are the ordinary things I get to do for them. Grilling chicken wings and doing laundry, and those dreaded white baseball pants.

The wait one minute-holding up. The laughs. The random car conversations. The moments they need me — and the moments they very much insist they don’t.

The hours aren’t the part between the life.

They are the life.

And getting a front-row seat to these two becoming who they are is one of the very best parts of mine. 💙💙

National Sons Day, everyday. by @ebmac927

The hours aren’t the part between life. They are life.

And Friday night was a pretty great reminder of that.

We loaded the cars. Set up the tables. Grabbed the snacks. Called the people. And then we gathered.

Friends, family, classmates, old friends and new ones — together for Homecoming and a fall Friday night under the lights at Carmel Catholic.

We captured the moments, but the best part was getting to be in them.

Kids running around. Parents catching up. Too much food. Lots of laughs. A packed stadium. And people simply showing up to be together.

Because sometimes community really is that simple.

Call your people. Gather them together. Make the memory.

Friday night lights at their best. ❤️💛🏈💛🤎
Go Corsairs. Go Eagles. 🦅 🏴‍☠️ by @ebmac927