• After college, my best friend and I committed to going on a trip together every year.
• It's been a great way to stay connected and make new memories, even as our lives change.
• Our trips are more relaxed in our 30s than they were in our 20s, but they've all been wonderful.

I'm a firm believer that there are some people in this world you're simply destined to meet and have in your life forever. For me, one of those people is my sorority-Little-turned-soul-sister, Lisa.

After bonding over many things during recruitment sophomore year — including our shared love for Blink-182 and punk rock — we both unknowingly wrote down on the get-to-know-you quizzes for the committee that we hoped to be paired as Big and Little sisters.

We were, and the rest is history. Our college days were constantly filled with plans together, and by graduation, we couldn't imagine embarking on this next phase of adulthood with over 180 miles between us.

She's from the Boston area, while I'm from Connecticut and moved to New York City right after college. So, we agreed to prioritize our friendship and made a pact to spend time together in person every year.

Since graduating in 2015, we've planned a getaway together every summer.

Our trips haven't always looked the same, but they have some constants

Right out of college, Lisa and I looked forward to a few sun-drenched days spent catching up on Long Beach Island, New Jersey.

From the Victoria Guest House to the Engleside Inn, we'd book a charming yet affordable place steps away from the beach to spend long days working on our tans, cranking up the tunes, and sipping spiked seltzers.

At night, we'd head out for bar hopping and dancing to live music until the wee hours of the morning. The next day, we would rinse and repeat.

We initially chose the Jersey Shore because it's an easy ride to perfect summer weather and beautiful beaches. It became our go-to place, though we now switch up locations every now and then.

Fast-forward to more than a decade after graduating from college, and our summer tradition is still going strong — but it looks quite different.

For this year's getaway, we stayed in a charming room at Greydon House in downtown Nantucket, Massachusetts. (We've always taken the aesthetics of our accommodations seriously and became obsessed with B&Bs and boutique hotels early on.)

We brunched at Lemon Press, popped into all of the boutiques (and shopped for Lisa's little ones), enjoyed early afternoon cocktails at CRU (the restaurant's signature Crucomber cocktail was a must), pedaled our beach cruisers past the hydrangea-lined shingled homes, and relaxed at the beach while we gabbed and reminisced.

Although we're no longer partying like it's 2015, we've come to genuinely enjoy an early dinner reservation at an aesthetically pleasing restaurant, plus after-dinner cocktails. A perfect night usually includes slipping into our PJs and streaming a chick flick.

We're also more organized these days, sticking to a well-planned itinerary to ensure our experience is top-notch.

In fact, we both watched "Five Star Weekend" before heading to Nantucket and knew we absolutely had to grab morning buns from Wicked Island Bakery. (If you know, you know!)

Above all, we don't let life get in the way of our friendship or summer tradition

Our lives look very different now that we're in our 30s. Lisa married her high-school sweetheart and is a mom of two, while my husband and I recently purchased our first home and have been tackling countless renovation projects in between doing lots of travel.

It takes true commitment from Lisa and me to carve out time for our tradition amid this hectic stage of adulthood — and it's always well worth it.

We know the importance of prioritizing our time together and start planning our trip in the early spring so we can block off a time that works for both of us in the summer.

While, like fine wine, our getaways have improved in the best way, one thing has always remained the same: We still talk, let our hair down, and laugh until our sides hurt from start to finish.

There's rarely a moment of silence, and when there is, it feels completely natural.

We can go weeks or even months without gabbing and somehow always pick up where we left off. We listen, give advice, and discuss what we both have planned in the near and distant future. We celebrate each other's successes and offer endless support.

Our friendship has grown with us and is incredibly strong; it's exactly what a best friendship should be. Of course, our summer tradition is here to stay.

• Years ago, I made fun of sports parents who went all out and spent thousands on their kids.
• Now I'm one of them.
• Last season cost our family over $8,800. Looking back, I have no regrets and would do it all again.

Ten years ago, I was the mom making fun of select sports parents. I thought they were crazy. Nuts. Over-spenders. People who didn't understand priorities, or budgeting, for that matter. Then I became one of them.

It didn't happen overnight, but gradually. My then-7-year-old son was asked to try out for a team. At the time, it seemed more competitive than the rec league he had been playing in, but not overly so. Practice times doubled. Costs also doubled. The following year, it happened again, and they doubled again. And now, I'm a mom of 5, with an 11-year-old who is obsessed with his select baseball team. Well, career. It's called a career, he's told me.

And that would be fine, but it's the unexpected costs that really caught me off guard. Over time, I got used to the idea that team fees would pass the three-figure mark. I was okay with that, because I saw the joy it brought him and realized that he's a young athlete who is more naturally competitive than rec teams typically allow for.

What I didn't anticipate were the extra costs. Here's how much it really costs to be a select sports family. And as select sports families might note, this isn't even for the most competitive, select travel teams in our area.

The real cost of select sports for our family

Growing up as a competitive gymnast, I look back and realize what it really meant for my single mom to shell out $90 for a competition leotard — and that was 25 years ago. Now, I see just how those extras add up and can tank a budget unexpectedly, one little overpriced concession stand hot dog at a time.

If I sit and add up the cost of the sport, which I do periodically, I find that it's a lot, even if I'm focusing on the more conservative end of our expenses. Here's how last season played out for us:

• Concession stand spending: $40 per game, estimated at $2,000 for last season. Our family of seven attends 40 to 60 games a season. Yes, we could pack our own food, but here we are, imperfect and flawed parents, just trying to find a uniform 10 minutes before warm-up.
• Gas: at least $700 per season. Our local practice field is over 20 minutes away so we do our fair share of driving for the sport. We also have tournaments in cities that are hours away, our furthest was about a 5-hour drive. In a season, this accounts for 10 to 12 tanks of gas, which of course varies with the price we pay at the pump. If we drive our large Sprinter van with the whole family tagging along, it's even more.

• Gear: around $1,250 last season. I consider myself a slightly scrappy shopper, having grown up on garage sale gear. So as an adult, I try to walk the line of buying new items, such as baseball gloves and pants (used pants at this age are often very worn), cold gear for chilly practices, hats, gloves, catcher gear (used on eBay), cleats, socks, and more. Then, there's gear from the actual team, such as belts and casual wear like hoodies and shorts. None of this includes the overpriced composite bats, which range from $200 to $500 apiece and come with the promise of "hitting bombs." Sure, we don't buy everything new every season, but looking back over my credit card bills reveals this past season was a pricey one.
• Private lessons: $300 a month for six months. As anyone with a semi-serious athlete knows, regular practice never seems to be enough. When my son became a catcher, we had to, well, catch up and learn catching. When he hit a mental block with hitting, his private lesson teacher scheduled extra sessions.
• Babysitting: $600 last season. When a game starts at 8 p.m. and ends after 10, parents with little kids need other options. Sometimes, we have our local babysitter chip in and help the other kids maintain a more normal schedule, including bedtimes. This can add up, but sometimes it's just nice to watch your older kid play without toddlers climbing on you with sticky hands. We pay our sitter $25 an hour and used them several times last season.

• Parent gear: $400 last season. Parents are the fan club, and they need to look the part. Even if each parent buys just an item or two from the team pro shop, it adds up. I might have also grabbed the super-cute Bauble Bar Perfect Catch Earring Set this year, along with team-colored HOKA sneakers for lugging gear around the city and getting some steps in during warmups. Finally, with so many kids, we invested in a double-decker wagon that hauls kids, chairs, drinks, snacks, and diaper bags from game to game.
• Hotel stays: $1,200 for four nights away. I know this is lower than many teams with a heavier travel schedule, but our cost is higher because we need a suite or two rooms for our large family. Teams often require these stays, and hanging out in the hotel pool is a big part of the kids' memory-making that can't be skipped.
• Registration fees: $900 per season. There are options to fundraise for parts of this, but I very rarely feel good about asking others to pay for my son's sports. I know it works for some people, but for me, going to the same people over and over to chip in feels off (aside from the grandparents who are always down to buy a coupon book).

The total isn't the point

When I say I really don't want to add this list up, I mean it. But for the sake of other parents who feel stressed about so much of their family budget going to sports, or those who need a real look at what it entails, I will.

Before I do, though, I have to acknowledge what all these extras mean for my son. The movement outside instead of getting addicted to screens: priceless. The self-esteem and confidence gained by overcoming stress in a high-pressure game: priceless. The camaraderie and friendships on a team: priceless. The bonding experience of watching the sunset with toddlers screaming their brother's name and number: priceless.

The grand total for the past season landed around $8,850, give or take a bag of popcorn or four. I'm off now to get a second job.

Spring signups are happening soon. I'll do what I can to save, and hope my son doesn't need a new bat, but I know I'll gladly be paying close to this again for yet another season. After all, the popcorn is decent, and my son's joy is contagious.