I did it! I did it! I got married!!!!
Posted by Lissa on April 20, 2009
Lissa Gets Married – Part I
I’m writing some of this so that I remember it — we all know the Intrawebz NEVER forget. If you get bored, check back in a few days for Caribbean news!)
As soon as Mike and I made it down the aisle together I threw my hands in the air for high-fives. “We made it! We made it! We actually pulled this off!!!”
I’ve never been as tired, exhausted, wrung-out, stressed-out, euphoric, exhilarated, and ecstatic as I was on Saturday night. My face hurts from smiling and I’ve completely lost my voice from shrieking; I sound like a teenage boy undergoing a particularly difficult puberty. I’m also fairly sure that my tear ducts are now permanently stuck in the “ON” position.
The rehearsal on Friday went very well; everyone was on time and gracious and happy and all. We made it through the rehearsal dinner without the parents hearing TOO many atrocious stories, and I managed to hand around bridesmaid gifts without completely bawling. (Until I gave Jenny’s out, but presenting hers without voice-cracking-tears was always a lost cause. Apparently that was a tough act to follow, but in my defense I *did* offer Mike the choice of going first or second!) Our parents really liked their engraved picture frames, but that was partly because of Mike’s stellar artwork – he does a mean stick figure, y’all. (To represent the two of us until the real wedding pictures are available.)
So, we finish up the rehearsal dinner and go back to the hotel, which is also the reception site. I’ve got friends from Ye Olde Liberal Arts College (YOLAC) who flew up, others who had to stop and get their car fixed in New Jersey and just kept going, and one or two who were already here. Add those in with the cousins from Canada and Mike’s friends from business school and we had us a serious class reunion going on in the hotel bar.
The bar closed down at one so Mike went home to the Kitty Den while the rest of us trooped upstairs to our rooms. The YOLAC folks gathered about and told stories, and more stories, and more stories, and drank wine, and ate fruit rollups, until people started falling asleep mid-sentence. So I sent them all to bed and ensconced myself in the bridal suite.
Where I promptly turned into a quivering wreck.
Jenny had gone home after the rehearsal dinner to finish packing her stuff and finish all the things she made for me (bathroom baskets, seating diagram, envelope box, etc. etc. etc.) and wasn’t back yet. I called her up and had approximately the following dialogue: “Jenny I need you back here I need you here I’m seriously freaking out I’m walking circles around the chair and the table and now I’m just walking in circles around nothing and I’m getting married today and I need you here nooooooooooooooooow!!!!”
Poor Jenny. Seriously, poor poor poor Jenny.
She sent LilBro1 up to keep me company – he was the only other family member still up – and he kept me more-or-less in one piece till Jenny arrived. In gratitude, I started telling him stories of horrible mistakes and ridiculously stupid screwups that I’ve scored in the past, so that the next time Mom mentioned how perfectly behaved I always was he could respond, “Yeah, well, at least I’ve never been in a situation where my friends were taking bets on whether I’d punch a cop!” Nothing says “love” like giving your younger brother ammo with which to blackmail you. No, I did not punch the cop, thank you very much.
I managed about five hours of sleep that night (which was four and a half hours more than Jenny got). She was smart enough to order room service the night before, so I feverishly stuffed my piehole with scrambled eggs and hash browns before herding people off to the mall for manis/pedis and my big fancy updo. At that point I was in full-on “I don’t care!” mode – anything I could not directly, personally control got put on that list. What color should the bridesmaids’ nails be? Don’t care! Should they put their hair up or leave it down? Don’t care!
We headed back to the hotel and I sent everyone to their rooms for naps, myself included. Not that I slept, but at least I was horizontal for an hour – that counts for something, right? The bridesmaids started gathering around 2:30 and the photographer showed up at 3. We primped and curled and powdered and puckered up and made ourselves bee-yoo-ti-ful before slipping on our dresses. Well, the bridesmaids slipped into their dresses; I had to wrestle myself into a petticoat and a corset and three people had to help me into my gown, no lie. That skirt was poofy enough to smuggle packs of toddlers underneath with no one the wiser.
(Oh, and in the meantime? Calls from the bus drivers who are downstairs and DON’T KNOW WHERE THEY’RE GOING. DESPITE THE FACT THAT I MADE THE FREAKIN’ RESERVATION TO GO DIRECTLY BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN TWO ADDRESSES and GAVE them the addresses WHEN I MADE THE RESERVATION. Apparently that was too hard.)
Finally, FINALLY, we were ready to go. I was trying to be all calm and practical; I sent Wisconsin Jen down to check on the limo, which was SUPPOSED to be there, but please check, because if it’s not they need to call us two cabs PRONTO. The calm and practical thing was, of course, an utter FAIL; Jenny ran down to her room to get her shoes and purse and didn’t come back for five minutes, at which point I was hyperventilating and chanting to myself, “shut up Lissa, calm down Lissa, whether the ceremony starts at 4:30 or 4:40 or 4:45 matters NOT AT ALL, shut up Lissa, calm down Lissa” etc. etc.
By the time we piled into the limo I was shaking. My hands wouldn’t stay still and were freezing cold and the corset lacing made it hard to breathe and oh-my-god omigod OMIGOD OMG. Dude, my bridesmaids? The BEST. My older sister? The BESTEST-BEST. They sat in the limo talking in soothing voices – you know, the way you talk to the elderly, invalids, and complete psychotic nutcases – and telling me I looked pretty, I looked beautiful, I looked gorgeous, and Mike’s jaw would hit the ground when he saw me; Jenny held my hands and didn’t allow herself to cry even a little. And then I walked into the church to get married . . .
to be continued . . .