Amazing Moms in Illinois Show Why Friendship Deserves a Seat at the Table

When Bridget Costello moved to Glenview, Illinois, in early 2023, she wasn’t looking to start a movement. What she wanted was something much simpler, and increasingly elusive: friendship.

After three moves in five years, three young children, and the slow erosion of free time that often defines modern motherhood, Costello found herself missing the kind of deep female connection that had once come easily. She had a new house, a supportive husband, and a full life, but something was missing.

“I missed real conversations. I missed laughing so hard I cried,” she says. “And I missed the version of myself who wasn’t always in caregiving mode.”

So she did something unusual: She started a dinner club.

The idea was modest — eight to ten women gathering once a month over food, wine, and conversation. Some were old friends, others friendly acquaintances. The only prerequisite was a willingness to show up as your full, imperfect self.

Within three weeks, the first dinner was on the calendar. Nearly two years later, the Glenview Dinner Club has become a fixture in the lives of its members — a source of emotional fuel, professional support, and a kind of modern sisterhood.

This July, in honor of Friendship Month, the group is being recognized as the Amazing Moms of the Month by 1-800-Flowers.com. Their story resonates far beyond their suburban zip code.

A gathering of real life

“One brilliant friend brought nine incredible women together,” says Kristen Robertson, one of the club’s founding members. “And none of us realized just how much we needed it. In a season of life where so much of our energy goes toward caring for others, we found something rare in each other… deep connection, the most laughs, and unwavering support.”

What happens at Dinner Club is not revolutionary — at least not on the surface. Sure, there’s the meal, a bottle or two of wine, and the playlist. But beneath the surface, it’s something many women of a certain age and stage have quietly yearned for: space to be seen, and to see one another, without judgment or performance.

“The older we get, the harder it is to build true, meaningful friendships,” says Katie McAdams, who joined the club after moving to the suburbs with two small children. “Between a busy job and family life, I didn’t prioritize it at first even though I wanted to.”

Over time, the group became more than a social outlet. It became a support system.

“These women are funny, honest, real, and caring,” she says. “They’re the kind of people I know I could call in a bind, and they already have been, through both tragedies and life celebrations. And we’ve laughed so hard together it’s quite literally brought me to tears.”

One night a month, a lifetime of impact

The dinners have become a protected ritual. Group texts start days in advance. Outfits are planned. Playlists are curated. But it’s what happens once everyone arrives that matters most.

“Dinner Club is one night a month carved out just for laughter, stories, and sharing the table with the best girlfriends,” says Celia Luett, another member. “These nights are more than just dinner and wine. They are soul food, emotional fuel, and pure joy wrapped into one perfect evening.”

The format is informal, but the impact is anything but. In the time since the club’s founding, two women have returned to the workforce after extended breaks, bolstered by resume feedback and encouragement. Others have weathered illness, family loss, or burnout, with the group showing up in tangible ways, like meal trains after a funeral and late-night check-ins.

It’s the kind of support system that’s increasingly rare in an era of digital connection and logistical overload.

The gift of being known

“We’re lucky. Truly lucky,” Robertson says. “What we have is real and rare. I know these are the good old days we’ll look back on years from now, and I cherish every single moment we share. This bond is for life.”

The Glenview Dinner Club is not a secret society. But it is, in a way, sacred. And it is a reminder that friendship, like anything worthwhile, often begins with a simple invitation.

For Costello, what started as a quiet longing became something more powerful than she could have predicted: a lifeline, a sisterhood, and a reminder that, even in the busiest seasons of life, there is still room at the table.