I know I’m not southern yet… heck, once I’m down there, I know that folks will only be too happy to remind me that I am just a YANKEE in their midst, but I feel a Y’ALL comin’ on and it needs to be allowed.
Y’all, words cannot do this whole wedding thing justice. Cannot.
That doesn’t mean I won’t TRY, but I’m just SAYING. I will not be able to capture even a tenth of it all, not even if I allow myself to be as cheesy as possible. It can’t be done. Because on the one hand it was enormous and huge and now things are DIFFERENT and on the other hand it was so much just what was happening in the space between the two of us and so logical and natural and everything is just the way it was, only moreso.
So. You can see the problem with trying to describe it. Also, when I’m not busy marveling at the superfantastical wonderfulness of it all, I’m busy dying of tuberculosis.
(What? You didn’t think I was going to get to have a wedding and honeymoon completely free of problems, did you? On the grand spectrum of things that could possibly go wrong, I’d have to say that having a really bad cough is actually not such a bad way to go. I mean, I might’ve preferred being able to breathe freely and not sounding like a three-pack-a-day smoker, but whatever.)
For those who want the short version: We got married! Is neat! Went to the mountains, spent a lot of time saying “Hey, we got married!” Then we came back, picked up the kids, took Otto to the airport, said goodbye, and now I’m home. Just like before.
For those who want the longer version: Pull up a chair!
But first… a few pre-wedding highlights!
Mother of the Year… for diversity! After several test-runs of curling Chickadee’s hair the night before, and forcing her to sleep on lumps in the name of beauty, I threw caution to the wind and curled her hair with a curling iron the afternoon of the wedding. The results were exactly what she wanted, so that was great. On the other hand, the afternoon of the wedding also brought out some attitude and defiance from Her Majesty that had the two of us locking horns in that special way that renders the rest of the room silent. I had an interesting moment where I stood outside myself and watched as my parents, Otto and Monkey all tried to pretend they were somewhere else while I informed Chickadee that the next misstep on her part would result in me calling a babysitter so that she could stay home during the wedding. Yes. I lovingly spent the day with my daughter, taking her for a manicure and along while I had my hair done, styling her hair, and then threatened to leave her out of the wedding. From the heights to the depths. Let’s hope that little detail fades from her memory, I guess.
And that’s why I married him. While on our way to the salon midday, I told Chickadee we should probably stop for gas so that Otto and I wouldn’t have to do so later as we rushed to get to our destination before it was too late to check-in. And then I saw that I had a full tank of gas. And later noticed that my car was really clean, too. Oh, THAT’s why it’s good to have a man around! Magic cars!
Ready for… not a lot, as it turns out. You may recall I have a long history of packing for trips as though I’m leaving for a month regardless of the length of my time away. You’d think that for something like a 2-day honeymoon I’d be ALL OVER that, given that what I ACTUALLY need and what I can fit in my suitcase are vastly different, but you’d be wrong. Somehow I managed to forget about packing until about an hour before the wedding, and as a result I ended up with things like sneakers but no socks and one flimsy cardigan that I wore pretty much the entire time because HI, it’s colder in the mountains and you betcha, I was colder. Also, I had exactly $8.14 on my person. Now that’s planning ahead.
Fathers of the Year… both of them. Monkey happily spent the day immersed in Legos and Pokemon, with my dad and Otto pretty much playing along as instructed, which is his idea of Nirvana. He didn’t even mind when Chickadee and I went out at lunchtime for my hair appointment (our second outing of the day), leaving him at home. All was well, until we were assembled at the church and about to begin, at about 3:45, and Monkey came up behind me and tugged on my dress. “I’m hungry. When’s lunch?” I told him that DINNER would be right after the ceremony and— I stopped and looked at my father and Otto. Had they ever fed him lunch? Guilty looks were exchanged. Excuses were made. And relentless taunting commenced as Otto’s brother very kindly took Monkey for a trip out to the Van O’ Snacks to fetch him some sustenance. (Okay, in reality this one is my bad as well; I should’ve checked when we got home. But still.)
The wedding itself… what can I say? It was a short and simple ceremony. We stared deeply into each others’ eyes and tried not to giggle while Otto’s young nephews commenced with what appeared to be a very anarchic version of “Marco Polo” in the pews behind us. Chickadee did a marvelous job with the bible reading. Monkey stood on one leg for much of it, flamingo-style, but kept the twirling to a minimum and never once said “I’m boooooored!” The pastor told us to remember that as tempting as it might be to view this as a conclusion, it’s merely the beginning. We kissed. The kids hugged us.
Then we went outside to take some pictures, which was when I apparently started hitting everyone with my flowers. Remember how I didn’t want a bouquet? Well, that was partially because I knew I wouldn’t know what to DO with it if I had it.
To the florist’s credit, the bouquet itself was beautiful and looked like it had been tailor-made to match my dress. The problem was that I currently have a disc with about 50 wedding pictures on it, and I appear to be either growing flowers out of my cleavage or beating someone with them in about 49 of those pictures. Niiiiiiiice.
Gah. I was going to tell you about dinner (chocolate truffle bomb cake!) and the honeymoon (snakes! snakes on a dock!) and coming back to spend Mother’s Day with the kids (cards! books! hugs!), but I am bone-weary and must go cough myself to sleep for a bit. So, the rest of this will have to wait.
But! I do have a few early pictures to share.
Come to think of it, all of the flowers pretty much had minds of their own. At one point we snuck a kiss during pictures, and it turned out to be a sweet picture… if you overlook the fact that Otto’s rose did a nosedive just beforehand. (Or maybe it was just trying to look down my dress. Who knows.)
Thanks so much to everyone who left such kind wishes on the previous couple of posts. I promise, more details are forthcoming after sleep and perhaps a visit to the doctor for some good drugs.
(P.S. Empirical research shows that even tuberculosis does not diminish how shiny my ring is, how much I like referring to Otto as “my husband,” or how annoyingly happy I am right now.)