After an excruciating final push of errands with wedding stage manager extraordinaire Cali and Aimee, we came back to the “party house” late Friday nite to find it full of people having a great time—and washing some dishes and plates. One of many “my friends are amazing” stories from the weekend that moves me to tears.
Taking a week between one’s wedding and honeymoon is something I would have to give mixed reviews. One of the cons is that while I was physically present all week, I was mentally somewhere else trying to preserve some of the happy wedding glow for our honeymoon. Ergo, my falling off the radar.
But as I do love blogging and our wedding didn’t suck, I’d feel bad going off for 2 weeks without giving you guys with a little easy-peasy teaser, that you may love or you may want to kill me for.
A picture a day until I get back.
A few will be by me, and a few will be by my friend Adam, about who I can only say this—if his pics were our only wedding photos, I couldn’t really complain. All weekend I saw him quietly snapping away and all I could think was, thank god, thank god, someone is getting this. Because, unsurprisingly with a DIT wedding, most of the good stuff happened outside of the actually wedding itself.
And so I present, a sneak peek of last weekend.
Over the weekend, I was optimistically looking at my list of posts to write, as though I’d have time to write posts this week. They are time-consuming, picture-heavy, labor-intensive posts like “dress shopping” and “our invites.”
They will have to wait.
As I looked at the list of wedding things, I thought, I can’t write about any of this shit. I’m too busy living it.
But I miss blogging, (and I miss reading blogs! feeling so out of the loop), and I do feel compelled to somehow capture the emotions of these days leading up to the one with the thing that’s all I can think about. (Funny how this blog started for the pretty, and is now way more emotion that pretty.)
So I’m gonna live blog is for y’all.
No pictures, barely any editing, just thoughts and feelings as they happen.
Sometime on Monday, I realized how batshit crazy Scott and I are. Who, WHO has a soup to nuts DIY wedding when you’re both working full time, and you have zero family involved and no bridal party either. Granted, at this point, friends have stepped in in pretty life-saving ways, but there is just. so. much. to. do. And no one but us to do it. I’ve taken Friday off work, and am teetering on taking tomorrow too. Scott was planning on taking any days off. GAAAAHHH.
Wedding planning makes me happy. Happy in that bone tired, I didn’t even know it was possible to get this much done in a day, I think I’m going to collapse, but I see a faint glimmer of hope on the horizon. If this was my day job, I think I’d be really happy. I love running/coordinating events. Of course I also love having a life, so if it were my day job I’d be sad for other reasons, such as having to work on Saturdays. But it is interesting, to observe and acknowledge the things that make you happy even as you feel that they’re slowly killing you.
I had a bridal moment at my bachelorette. Bachelorette parties are not typically designed with the “bachelorette” in question in mind, are they? Mine was kind of. And kind of not. Kind of a lot of what I said here.
When we were at the end of our rope, venue-search-wise, I had a running joke about renting out one of my favorite places on earth—Marble House in Newport, RI—and since its rental fee was just about our entire budget, having everyone come lie on the floor and eat Chinese food in their PJ’s.
Over a year later, that still sounds like one hell of a plan to me. Our venue is not quite Marble House, but if the pizza truck doesn’t show up, and the chairs don’t show up, and I split my dress…
I’ll get over it.
Yoga and a manicure is a pretty magically relaxing combination, though it loses some effectiveness in conjunction with iced coffee.
Following work emails from an insane client like a reality tv show train wreck feels like a distant cloud looming over the happy, but I can’t stop myself. I want my boss to not stress over this the way I shouldn’t stress over the wedding.
We have a lot to do tonite. 😉
And I’m still amped up on the coffee I had at 11am.
Also, we need to write vows.
This is what $500 gets you in booze in NY. It seemed like a lot in the car and less in the kitchen. I think it will be enough in the bellies of our guests.
I have recurring nightmares about packing like a lunatic and being late to the airport. That is what this is like.
All I need is one more day.
The minivan is all packed and I didn’t get any pics of the insanity of the house first. Ahh well.
And I would post the pic of the minivan, but my phone is freaking out. Because you know, I don’t need it today or anything.
The liveblogging thing is not so easy when you have no words.
Instead, some pictures of my day:
I am a picker. Usually of cuticles. Sometimes of eyelashes, or feet, or scabs. It’s not an attractive trait, this I know. And it is one of those places where I went a little WIC in spite of myself. Brides are supposed to have nice nails and flawless skin, and not a body covered in mosquito bites with little scabs at the center where she scratched until the itching went away.
So about a month before the wedding I declared a moratorium on pretty much being outside (except while running), and I hunted any mosquitoes that got inside ruthlessly. I religiously applied my prescription redness cream for my face issues, and I ordered myself a new bottle of this godsend, and diligently tried conquer my cuticles.
And then last Thursday, I cut a chunk of my fingertip off.
It’s hard to have silliness that you already know is silly put into perspective like that.
My Catholic brain tells me that my temporary fixation with my cuticles caused me to not adequately appreciate the fact that I had cuticles to begin with, and that exacto blade came down as a wake up call.
I know what really happened is that I have been more distracted in the last 2 or 3 weeks than I ever have before in my life. You can tell me to do something and I’ll forget what you said within 10 seconds. I’m constantly losing things and leaving things in strange places, and I’m convinced at least one bill has been overlooked this month. I’m struggling to keep my phone, my wallet, and my sanity present and accounted for.
Now is the perfect time to handle knives.
The irony is: the incident occurred at work, and not during any kind of wedding crafting project (I probably would’ve been more focused there).
This weekend Scott almost bought a company.
And I achieved wedding zen.
It doesn’t feel exactly how I thought it would, but I knew it was there when I was got more and more excited about the prospect of taking huge steps towards getting our real lives off the ground.
I mean, that’s the whole point of the whole marriage thing, right?
Supporting and encouraging, or even dragging kicking and screaming, each other into
bigger and better (or smaller and happier) things.
At least that’s what I keep reading in the blogosphere.
To see Mr. Big Ideas actually take steps towards making something happen felt huge.
Because this is my blog and I have to give myself proper credit, I will tell the story in brief. The whole thing started with him saying “T-shirt line “Fake Name” is closing because the owners don’t have enough time and want to focus on family. If it weren’t for everything we’ve got going on right now, I wish I could like, buy them out,” to which I replied, “Fuck the wedding. How much do they want for it?”
And so ensued two days of enthusiasm and negotiations. And even though it didn’t work out, giving it a shot made me seriously giddy.
I felt like I was following my gut the entire time (what a novel and amazing way to make choices), and that we were hashing things out as a team. Bananas.
If marriage is more of this, sign me up.
Less than two weeks and insane pre-wedding insanity reigns strong over here. That, and massive decision fatigue. So I need more of your opinions! Today’s topic is guestbooks!
Which option is your favorite?
1) The postcard guestbook.
My existing collection of postcards get written on and tossed into a vintage suitcase.
Difficulty Level: 1 – We have all these things already.
pc: R P Scissors
2) The greeting card guestbook.
My grandparents collection of vintage greeting cards get written on and tossed into a vintage suitcase.
Difficulty Level: 2 – We have everything, but I’ll need to go through the cards and pick out appropriate ones? If there even are that many blanks/anniversary cards. Is it too awkward to have a Christmas card guestbook? Yes? Okay.
3) The Shutterfly-esque guestbook.
I spend a couple hours sticking our engagement photos in a template and have it printed. It probably won’t look nearly as good as Rachelle’s does below.
Difficulty Level: 3 – Will take a few hours to create.
pc: Oh Deerio!
4) The poster guestbook.
Scott designs a poster based on our invites, etc. and everyone can sign.
Difficulty Level: 4 – He has to design this, and then we have to get it printed somewhere because it’s too late to have it screenprinted now.
Okay…..now go, comment!
This is for all of my “real life” friends, who I’ve tried not to burden with my crap. Maybe this will help to explain why.
Your wedding might not be a show, but it is a production.
Chances are, it’s probably not going to happen on its own. Instead, it’s going to take months of keeping seemingly thousands of balls in the air, from venue to caterer to invitations to placecards to underpants. Seriously, I’ve been searching the ends of the earth for the right pair of affordable Spanx.
When we first started this process, I was determined to streamline, and avoid this level of nonsense the Kn*t to-do lists proclaim as the norm. We decided to have a small guest list, a pizza truck, no DJ, no cake, etc.
But for everything that we cut back or out, there was somewhere that I bit off the maximum amount that I could chew without vomiting—providing our own tableware, glassware, linens; hand-producing invitations of epic proportions; renting a house where everyone could crash; writing our own ceremony; buying a wedding dress that entailed three fittings and Spanx. (I thought the dress fit when I bought it!! Why does it still take three fittings?!?!)
And so, I have found myself—me, who never wanted a wedding to take over my life—living and breathing The Wedding.
It’s a lot. And it’s something I feel guilty about, and hesitant to share/admit to my “real life” friends. In the limited amount of time I have to talk to them, I want to hear about them, not rehash my current struggles with Spanx. There just isn’t enough time for that.
I also struggle with deciphering who genuinely wants to hear about the wedding and who is just being polite and so I have brushed everyone off instead. In my own emotional experience, weddings can stir up huge issues for people, and while it should be their own responsibility to steer a convo away from something they don’t care to discuss, I would rather not talk about it at all than risk offending someone.
I’ve also fallen victim to the mainstream portrayals of wedding planning (read: Bridezillas) that paint a horrible portrait of the brides enlisting family and friends to embark on craft projects and other pre-wedding details, showcasing the helpers bitching and moaning to the drill sergeant bride about all the work they’re doing. Yet, on the other side of the equation is the notion of being left out of the wedding fun…
And lastly, part of my hesitance to share has also been due to my clinging to the element of surprise. I’ve never been to a wedding that was DIT, not “thrown” for the guests, and so I’m kind of flying blind here. Is it really OK that 50% of my guests won’t drive/walk up and go “wow” (or just, you know, “hey, neat”) because they’ve been there all day decorating?
All of this has led to one or more friends expressing that they feel “out of the loop,” with my life. As I do with theirs. And I feel kinda shitty about that, but I’m starting to wonder if it isn’t inevitable? Weddings, like babies, consume vast amounts of physical and emotional resources, including the most valuable one of all—time.
[This is not to say that I think marriage (or even kids, once they get to be more manageable?) is a dividing line. People who say that, or leave people out of social circles once they’re married, are full of crap. Marriage does not make a couple inseparable or book up their social calendar for the next 50 years. A wedding might, but after that? Personally, I cannot wait to have time to reconnect with people again. Watch out, cause I’m going to be the most enthusiastic friend ever.]
So what do we do when weddings eat up our lives and we don’t want to burden our friends and families with incessant chatter about that which is consuming our lives?
We blog about it instead. And if we’re lucky, we find a community of like-minded women who get it, and want to talk about these things. (Am I wrong to compare this to AA, cancer support groups, grieving widows?) But in accepting this support group, are we unwittingly alienating our “in real life” friends and family?
I think I might be. But with two weeks to go, I have no choice but to ask for down and dirty help. Logistically, this thing just isn’t going to happen without it. It’s scary, but I’m doing it, and I hope people will understand what’s taken me so long.