My favorite wedding picture

My second favorite wedding picture.

The Wedding

Friday 8/22/08


After all of the nonsense that preceded it, the actual wedding could not have gone better. The 'brides room' at the chapel had this claw foot antique bathtub just sitting in the middle of the room. While it seemed like a completely random decorating choice, the girls had a good time posing in it for pictures which made the last few moments before the ceremony much less nerve wracking. I really have to give all the kids some credit for their behavior. It can't be easy to watch your parent marry someone other than your other parent no matter how much you approve of the union. But if they were bothered, they all hid it well.

So 5 bridesmaids, 1 best man, 1 maid of honor, 1 pastor and his wife, 1 photographer, 1 coordinator ( what needed coordinating?) and 6 guests came together and created a wonderful ceremony. Was it serene? Of course not. Nothing we do ever is or ever will be, I imagine. But it was fun.

When you have been married before, a wedding can create some complicated emotions. Unlike a first time bride, I walked down that aisle knowing what I was walking toward. And even while experiencing the joy of a new marriage, I know I will never forget the agony that a marriage ending can cause. We live in a world where people give up too easily. I said the standard vows to Kevin but this is what I meant...

"I will not give up."

Amen

The Lead Up Part III - The Fug

My wedding posts would not be complete without an explanation for my horrendous hair-do which I will now and forevermore refer to as "The Fug'. I hope to be able to post some pictures soon and I wouldn't want you to get the impression that I thought my hair looked good. Then you would be laughing at me instead of with me and I can't have that.

The fault for the fug lies solely with Kevin. He casually suggested that I go to a salon on the day of the wedding to have my hair and makeup done. Sounded like a great idea at the time. I followed his advice and it led down a path of horror.

As previously noted, I rushed around all morning trying to find a dress. The wedding wasn't until 6 PM but the latest salon appointment I could get was at 12:30PM. I thought that would give me plenty of time to get my hair and makeup done and still run by the nail place before I had to be home to meet the school bus. (You know you are a mommy-bride if 'meet the school bus' is part of your wedding day preparation.)

I arrived at the salon right on time. The stylist (I've forgotten her name. Not sure if I ever knew it.) took me back to discuss what kind of style I would like. I actually brought a picture. I never do that. But I thought this one time it would be ok since I would be looking at this hairdo in pictures for the rest of my frackin life. The stylist looked at the picture, said "No problem" and went right to work. She used a curling iron for what seemed like the better part of a decade. My chair was turned facing away from the mirror and she talked nonstop while working. After the stress of the preceding days, I was actually starting to relax a little bit.

Then she spun the chair toward the mirror and I choked back a scream as I faced my reflection. How could those hundreds of tiny corkscrew curls that she had so painstakingly created have come together to form this this old lady - no hair -bun? It was hideous and bore not even a passing resemblance to the picture. The funniest thing (if anything about this could be funny) was that the stylist was really proud of it. She ushered me into the makeup chair where she did manage to do a decent job. My face was awfully shiny but that little detail was completely overshadowed by the goofy hairdo which made my face look like a giant Moon Pie.

Did I mention that this whole thing took so long that the school bus beat me home. I ran in the house and my three beloved children just stared at me. My own kids wouldn't even lie to me when I needed it most. I sent them out to the van and we headed for the nail place. In general, having a formal hairstyle while wearing street clothes can make you feel conspicuous but working the fug in t-shirt and shorts took me to a new level of embarassment (which, for me, is saying a lot.)

I collapsed into the nail chair and asked for a full-set. I'd never been to this particular salon before. The manicurist went to work and even got the girls settled in to get their own nails painted. She worked quickly and quietly and I'm pretty sure she could tell I was on the verge of unravelling. At one point, she looked at me and said very quietly "You look pretty" and then went right back to work. I knew she was lying but I didn't care. Sometimes you need a compliment.

After all my foolishness leading up to the wedding, the actual event could not have gone better. It was all that I hoped it would be. And if I could do it all over agin, I wouldn't change a thing...except the fug.

The Lead Up -Part II - Dress Quest

The first week living together - all nine of us - went really well. The following week was the wedding. Kevin and Dylan got new suits. Emily and the little girls all got new dresses. Kevin's wedding band was Fed-exed just in time. I made our bouquets. (They turned out tolerable. Martha Stewart, I ain't.) The chapel had taken care of the other details. All that was left was to get a dress for myself.

Take my advice...never attempt to shop for a wedding dress with 5 little girls. It's just a bad idea.

Which brings us to Thursday night. Less than 24 hours before the wedding. No dress.

I convinced myself that Dillard's was my best option so I got up early Friday morning, took the kids to school and headed to Hickory Hollow. I arrived just after 8AM. I'm not a big mall shopper so I had no idea what time they actually opened. 9AM just seemed appropriate to me so I thought I would just get a big cup of coffee and be at the door when they opened. And, yeah, I guess I could have checked the opening time before driving all the way there but I wasn't exactly in a rational state of mind.

At 8:30 I decided to walk up to the front door just to check the opening time. Apparently that particular Dillard's was going out of business so that location did not open until 11:00. I handled that setback pretty well all things considered. I jumped back in the van and drove all the way to Cool Springs. I made it there around 8:50. I had a very encouraging voice mail from Kevin and I had almost convinced myself that everything was gonna work out fine. I would go in, find the perfect dress within minutes and be headed back to Providence in plenty of time for my hair/makeup appointment. Then I realized that it was after 9AM and no one was in the parking lot. I walked to the door to read the sign. Open at 10:00AM. Let the freak-out commence.

I really wanted (NEEDED) to get my nails done so I drove around until I found a salon. I thought this would be the best way to fill the hour before the store opened while eliminating one more item on my 'to do' list. Guess what time the nail salon opened? I was needing that cup of coffee real, real bad at this point.

Store finally opens at 10AM. I go in, pick up the first 6 dresses I find in my size and head to the dressing room. I am brimming with confidence. I will come out with THE dress (not too dressy, not too casual) and this whole nonsense will be behind me. 10 minutes later I emerge without THE dress. I search the racks again and grudgingly decide to give up on Dillards.

I wandered into the mall and headed to Macys. I had no plan at this point. I was just walking. Macy's had two racks of nonsense so I set out for JCPenneys. It's 10:45 and I'm feeling the urge to curl up in the fetal position and coo like a pigeon. JCP is the biggest disappointment of the morning. There are just racks everywhere with barely any room to walk between them. It was as if the store had gone out of business years ago but nobody bothered to tell the employees. After much searching, I found one tolerable selection. Actually it wasn't tolerable, it was just the right size but I simply could not bring myself to try it on.

I walked back out into the mall in a panic. I had no idea where else I could possibly look and I was so frustrated with myself. I'm just not the type of person who loses her cool over something as trivial as a dress. But there I was on the verge of a meltdown in the middle of the Galleria.

I am not ashamed to admit that, at that point, I literally prayed for a dress.

Cool Springs is a two level mall. I began scanning the stores around me when I looked up and saw it. Jessica McClintock. The mother ship. Formalwear is all they sell. I had no idea they even had a store. I ran up the escalator and felt relief for the first time that day. Racks upon racks of wedding dresses both formal and casual in every size. I grabbed three and headed to the dressing room.

I don't think I found THE dress but I found one that fit and was not embarrassing. And it was fifty percent off which made me like it even more. I stopped on the way out for a celebratory cup of coffee and I drove home feeling like everything was gonna work out fine. Little did I know that a hair massacre was awaiting me...

The Lead Up - Part I

There were several times during late July and early August that I really believed this wedding wasn't going to happen. We had spent the better part of a year planning a marriage and about 15 minutes planning a wedding. I still think we had our priorities straight. But the drama unfolded nonetheless. Full disclosure: the drama mostly was inside my head.


We discovered pretty quickly that even a small ceremony with a miniscule number of guests can be a complete pain in the butt to put together. This is where I admit that I acted quite badly. In my defense, I think planning a wedding produces a comparable number of hormones as, say, early pregnancy...with sextuplets. I have no idea why this is true but trust me. I cried every day for two weeks. Admittedly, I am more emotional than your average gal but this nonsense bordered on the ridiculous.


Major life changes are stressful. 4 or 5 major life changes all at the same should make one eligible for prescription meds. We moved in at the beginning of August. I had been packing for weeks and the physical move went as smoothly as could be expected. (Kevin enlisted Dylan, Emily, and some of their friends which helped big time.) I tried to quit my job which involved lots of hysterics at the office. We were also trying to get all the kids ready to start school. It was a perfect storm.

Work

There were lots of great moments during Obama's nomination acceptance speech. But the line that I am still thinking about is when he referenced 'the dignity of work.' I'm not sure I have ever heard a politician use that term and I was happy to hear it.

I once worked as a hotel maid. It was a summer job after my sophmore year in college. I never planned to make hospitality housekeeping my career or anything (although lately it seems like I might have done just that.) It was just a job. As an adult, when I have mentioned this job to different people, it has produced some rather strong reactions. People have seemed embarrassed for me. As if I have just admitted a 3 month stint in a Bangkok bordello or something.

I do believe that we should all work hard to educate ourselves and obviously most of us don't dream of being hotel maids when we grow up. But somebody has to do those jobs. Someone has to clean your hotel room. Someone has to clean your kid's school. Someone has to bring your food if you eat in a restaurant.

Basically, the world is full of jobs that none of us would volunteer to do. And generally (though we are loathe to admit this) those jobs most often end up being done by those of us who squandered their potential opportunities or those people that never had an opportunity to squander. For instance, when I worked as a maid, there were several mother/daughter teams employed there. It's like a generational curse.

I dream that my own children go to college and find jobs that challenge and inspire them. I pray that they always have the luxury of choosing a job rather than being forced to take whatever is offerred. I hope that they use their gifts and talents to help others. But above all, I am determined that they will understand the 'dignity of work'.

Srsly?

McCain didn't pick Mitt Romney...which saddens me. That would have been so fun. If nothing else, I think his choice does pretty definitively prove that he is, in fact, dumber than a sack of hammers. That may actually be his new campaign slogan, btw.

I never even heard this gal's name until this morning. I'm sure that means nothing. It's not as if I follow politics closely or anything.

I think the main problem is that McCain is just a little confused about some terms.

Like 'surprise'...you see 'surprise' is not always a good thing. For instance, if I was pregnant, Kevin would be 'surprised' but that doesn't mean he would be happy. So keeping this pitful pick secret and then 'surprising' us with it really doesn't help.

Also, I think you were convinced by some Rovian goober on your staff that this choice and timing would somehow negate the positive aftermath of Obama's nomination speech. Look John, you got a lot of news coverage today. But you've been teasing these reporters for so long, I'm pretty sure that would have happened even if you had picked Mr Excitement, Tim Pawlenty. Let's be honest here. Obama handed you your ass in that speech. You know. I know it. And probably 80% of the American people know it. You could have tapped Oprah as your running mate and it wouldn't have mattered.

Because really John, most Americans are just not as stupid as you imagine them to be. We understand that there are lots of strong conservative women that you could have picked to be your VP. Granted, most of them piss me off but that only means that your supporters would have loved them. Liddy Dole, Kaye Bailey Hutchison, Christie Whitman. Any of these names sound familiar? And if you had picked any one of them, I would have given you some credit for making a 'bold' choice. (The fact that women make up over 50% of the population should actually nullify the boldness of picking one as a vp candidate, but whatev.) Instead, you picked a token. Once again proving that 'maverick' must be french for 'pandering ninny'. You see, the idea that any woman would appeal to a woman voter is kind of offensive. Most of us have moved beyond high school and we don't travel or vote as a clique anymore. While we may like the idea that a woman could be Vice President or, heaven help us, President, we'd really like to have some confidence that should a woman ascend to that office, she would be able to do the job.

If that notorious phone rings at 3AM, I'm not confident Mrs Palin would even know which end to speak into.

Real Life

We got married.

I really want to write a long post detailing the ceremony and all the craziness that led up to it. I really want to explain how nuts I have been with the move, job change, etc. I really want to share (most) of the details of our mini-honeymoon.

But...

Instead I have to tell you that one of the kids has head lice. Romantic, ain't it?

Emily thinks this is very embarrassing for our family but I find it pretty hilarious. I'm sure some nasty little, neglected kid at school gave it to them...or maybe our kids gave it to them...whatever.



So, at some point, I will post all the details of our blessed union and pics (providing my fugly hairdo doesn't look as bad in hindsight.) But right now, I've got to find a tiny comb and go burn some bed sheets.




Mazel Tov!!!

Book Review

Ann Patchett is on her way to becoming one of my favorite novelists. This is dangerous because as soon as I start to really like a writer, the opportunity for disappointment goes up exponentially. Thankfully, her new novel Run was a completely satisfying read.

The story is about a family and the story is about politics but it does not contain the cliches and melodrama that the melding of those two subjects generally produce. My admiration for Patchett stems from her ability to take a seemingly simple premise and spin it into a powerful story. Her writing is so subtle that I read the whole thing without once rolling my eyes. (This is friggin rare, as you can imagine.)

The book is written about a man and his wife who adopt two African American brothers. The man is a former mayor of Boston who dreams of political careers for his two adopted sons as well as his older, biological child. His wife dies when the children are young and he is left to raise them alone. There is lots more but, for some reason, I can never deliver an effective plot synopsis without ruining the whole book. But,seriously, read it. You know I would never steer you wrong about books...or snack food.

Overheard

In the elevator...

Woman #1 - "I cannot believe that gas has gone down to under $3.50 a gallon."

Woman #2 - " I know. Isn't it a blessing?"

Look...I'm all about counting your blessings...really I am.

But this, to me, is like being happy that your husband only beats you up on the weekend.

August

Who am I

to say forever

when forever taunts me

like a schoolyard bully?

And yesterday

and the day before

wear my regrets

like a uniform.


So I will take every today,

every tomorrow,

and every day after that


and forever will just have to

take care of itself.

Dear Mr Limbaugh,

Sweet biscuits, I hate your guts.

I generally try to pretend that I live in a world where you don't exist. I try to relegate you to the fat, acne ridden goobers I knew in middle school who existed only to taunt those of us who actually came to school to learn and stuff. But this is more than I can take. I am seriously on the edge of a remarkable fury.

I was really sad about the story of John Edward's affair. Not because I'm a lefty hack. (He's not actually running or holding office right now so the political side of me could care less, btw.) But because I really believed Edward's was a good man and I felt strongly about the issues he championed.

I have never hid the fact that I LOVE his wife Elizabeth. She's the kind of woman I aspire to be. Unfortunately, Elizabeth and I now share some common ground that I would not have wished on my worst enemy. And she gets to walk through this nightmare with douchebags like you rubbing salt in the wounds.

According to your ridiculous logic, Mrs Edwards was too smart and used her mouth for too much talking. Therefore, it stands to reason that her husband was virtually forced to betray her. What you probably don't realize, because you have the emotional maturity of a chicken egg, is that Elizabeth has already had that very same thought. She has lain awake at night trying to figure out exactly what SHE did wrong. She wonders what she could have done to prevent this. And she will probably continue to have these thoughts for years. No one will suffer more from this affair than her.

John Edward's is a public figure so Elizabeth will not receive the privacy she has requested during this horrific time in their lives. I imagine her children will see their dad's former mistress on television, her grown daughter will be followed by reporters. And no matter what Elizabeth Edwards accomplishes for the rest of her life, that mistress will forever be a footnote to her story. And for all that, I'm pretty much resigned to hating her husband.

I hate to admit that I have more disdain for him than I do for you, Mr Limbaugh. He was , after all, the one who should have protected them from being fodder for your trash talk in the first place. You're just a pathetic man who makes fun of sick people. And, honestly, how could I have expected you to do otherwise.

Engaging

Always too big, too loud, too much.

Wasted time trying to be smaller, quieter, less.

34 years and finally...






A perfect fit.

Sorrow

Oops. I did it again. I put my faith in yet another politician who has now admitted his adulterous affair. So the main lesson I have learned from this is that I should not be putting my faith into politicians in the first place.

But a bigger question emerges. Am I just pathologically unable to recognize a lying, cheating, bag-o-crap when I see one? After the experiences I have had, one would think that I would be the last person to staunchly defend these accused philanderers. So in one sense, I think my continued naivete proves that I haven't turned into a bitter old cynic. On the other hand, I think it does proves pretty definitively that I am a punk.