Wedding Fever Confusion

Most women dream of their wedding day from the time they are little girls.  I am no exception.

I used to lie in bed at night and stick one leg straight in the air, my blankie instantly transformed my foot into the head of the bouncy bride who truly resembled more of a muppet as she shook her bunny-printed "veil" around to the traditional wedding march my actual head hummed lowly.  However, my idea of my wedding day has changed so much over the years it's a little unnerving now that the best man I've ever known has asked my son and me to be his family forever and handed me the ring we picked out over a year ago.

No matter what society throws at me, I have a firm belief of what our marriage should be:  faithful, loving, considerate, hard-working, understanding, honorable, communicative, forgiving, open, honest, protective, supportive.

However, as society flings its poo at my head, I'm having a hard time figuring out what our wedding should be. I can't even figure out what I want to wear on said head the day I say my vows to the man I love.  Veil? Tiara? Flowers? Halo? Hair up? Down? Braided? Curled? Each question stems into another set of questions.

This is why women hire planners, maybe.  Or maybe it's why we make the mistake of talking about it to other people.

I say "mistake" because everyone has an opinion over what would be the absolute best for you!

Usually everyone except, yeah, you guessed it, your groom. Nick, for example, doesn't give a damn what I do with my hair as long as I don't shave it off.

It amazes me the level of planning that some people put into what pre-engaged Stephanie called "just a party to celebrate your love with all of the people in your life."  While this is true, I've recently realized that there is a level of awesomeness that I do want in this event that clearly marks the beginning of our lifelong marriage.

And there will be a bunch of pictures to remind me of it for the rest of that life, so there's that.

My idea of awesomeness isn't what most brides think of when they picture their wedding day. I want to capture us and our lives together because we have already begun that.  We have been living together for almost three years now. Our home is a collage of things that represent us and our various tastes and journeys and our life together. I feel our wedding should be no different. I don't really care what everyone else thinks a wedding or my wedding should be. I also don't care if my family thinks having a wedding is a waste of money that I could spend on our house.  Although I have considered doing that a few times because it's just plain sensible, Nick would never allow it because he knows how much I want this celebration.

I am (buying into the hype) a DIY (do-it-yourself) bride. We can't afford a wedding any other way, nor do I want to. We have a home to buy and that's going to cost some serious cash. And we're going to have to learn new things and work together as homeowners, and that is what is about to happen for our wedding day preparations too. And boy, if that isn't my true dream these days, just working with him on all the things we need to get done.

It's doing those things together that makes it so sweet. I love the way we prepare for every party we have. Or just the way we clean together on Saturdays. Or the way we work out together. It feels so unified and strong. It gives me purpose and satisfaction.

He asked me this evening after I explained why his help was so important to me if we spend so much time planning the wedding and doing things for it, what would we do when it was over?

I told him we would work on our house. Plan for it. Always have something to look forward to, even if it's just the weekend, the evening, the next hug, the list goes on forever of the things I appreciate about my family.

But this wedding, our wedding, is important to me. Although some important people won't be able to make it, I can't imagine a better way to become Nick's wife than in the presence of the people who love and support us most. The people who introduced us, encouraged us, and even knew us before we knew one another.

Don't tell me I can have that many people look on us with so much love and positivity and that it even matters what kind of clothes we wear or where we are or what kind of favors we have. So the budget calls for some creative and thrifty thinking in addition to the tons of nerdy thinking that mixes in naturally and we approve because we know what's important.

Mother nature and we will make the setting pretty. We will exchange vows. We will be with our loved ones in feasting and dancing and singing and playing and laughing. Then we'll do it some more.

Rinse. Repeat. Forever.

P.S. First step, we're working on the invitations :)

Cool Mom

My son, Fisher, turned 6 years old this week!  I don't know where time has gone, but I am so proud of how he is growing and maturing into this little independent creature. 

When he was still considered a toddler, I remember telling my Aunt Sandy about wanting to be the cool mom who got silly/dirty/wet and who got down and played and ran around the playground and didn't care about what anyone else thought.

She commented that if I wanted to be known as "cool," then I obviously cared what others thought about me. Maybe I was unclear. 

I wanted to be cool to Fisher.

He's truly all that matters. In fact, I think that my idea of being cool to him is often the opposite of being cool to other parents or the general population. My idea being going to his school Halloween party with a Nintendo hat and hoodie and PJ one-up pants and wearing his Mario mustache when he asks me to. Or jumping rope in front of other humans...at all. Or making ridiculous faces for photos. Or letting him make a mess of the kitchen just to "help" as he learns how to bake. Or letting him hit me with water balloons.

I asked Fisher last night if he thought I was cool. He said "yeah."  I asked him why.

"Because you help me out and you do some chores with me."

He's way cooler than me.

Musings

I've had one hell of a year really.

 I feel so...adult.

I graduated college.
I got a full time weekday job.
I turned 30.
I got a lawyer.
My son went to kindergarten.
I got engaged.

Also, I am awesome.

And that's why I don't have to tell you I'm awesome. You can plainly see that.
(Stop it! You're building yourself up again!)

In other news, I saw a grown-ass man on a skateboard downtown yesterday.

Mm.

I felt young then.

Fail

Well hello, friends. Long time no see.

So I want to start by saying I failed. Broken promises have been a direct offshoot of this very blog. Why?

Blame it on the absolutely wonderful year that I have had with my family, which is my supreme goal and bitching about not having time with my family was surely the basis for 50% of my blogging to begin with. Or blame it on me for promising too much too quickly.  I am only a work in progress.

Blame it on the rain. No, really, blame it on my heart. Or just blame me. Yes, I know I'm talking to myself because only one other person ever inquires as to what exactly I'm doing here.  I still am not sure of the answer to that question, but, unfortunately, writing is not it.

It begs the age old adage, "If a writer falls in the woods, will her readers be there to help her up?"

No.

No, they won't, because she doesn't have any readers because they had nothing to read because she didn't write so she's not even a writer at all.

Maybe she was a little embarrassed about all of her broken promises of writing more, bitching less, walking for cures, helping the less fortunate.  Well, I actually have done that last one a little bit but I don't think giving a friend a ride or buying the beer for the evening compares with feeding the hungry.  I did bake though. Probably not more than usual. I don't even know what else I promised, that's what a fail this is.

In short, don't expect too much and I'll quit telling you to expect me to be awesome.

I think I can accomplish that much.

Lovliest of Days

Looking back on this blog I am ashamed of the lack of continuity with spacing and formatting more than the lack of censorship.  I am changing some things because I want to be able to share things with an array of audiences, including my Granny.  I think she's woman enough to take what is here ;)

As I read some of my posts from last year, I see my old outlook and realize the growth that has taken place in my life.  I hop on my friend Jen's wagon and revel at the energy required to make a change.  It's tremendous and constant.  I guess "it" is both energy and change, really.

Last year, I sat alone on beautiful days like this.  To me, these days are reasons to love your families and celebrate life.  And  you can make any day a holiday this way.  Nicholas was working long and late and every weekend until recently.  Fisher spent half the weekend at his dad's.  So many gorgeous days I sat and watched people float past on their boats, laugh with their families, make memories together.  I could hear them even when I drew the blinds and brooded alone in the dark, air-conditioned living room.   I attended parties and weddings where my friends circulated, but always kept contact with their anchors, their beacons, their home.  They went to their literal home with their families after I miserably answered the foray of questions concerning the whereabouts of the two people I love the most.  I finally began complaining ridiculously about it. Yeah, I admitted that as I was doing it; I don't care.

Don't get me wrong; we had our share of beautiful days camping and swimming at Summersville Lake.  Driving to find a grill and picnics in the park.  Just thinking about last year has me in a funk, so I quit! (This happened because I was having a hard time coming up with many more times when we were all together and able to do something for fun rather than things we simply had to do)

Today was perfect.  

I miss so many family members and friends; there are people I'd love to spend more time getting closer.  But I finally get to enjoy a schedule that permits me to have normal time with my son and my future husband.  What a delightful experience.  Not only the schedule, but diligently working together for the family.  Trusting someone and loving them so that you look forward to years of learning more effective ways to argue with one another.   

It sucks that Fisher is still gone more often than I want him to be, of course.  And that Nick works at 4 a.m. But who gives a diddly squat?  We've been working on visiting family, getting to see friends, we have more time to ourselves and more time together, and it rocks.  And our jobs aren't going terribly either.  

I told Nicholas that I just needed to sense him.  And nearness to my son to touch him, hear him, see him, smell him, and I try not to taste him really, so, yeah.  Seeing loved ones recharges my battery.  If you're missing me, I'm missing you, and you're on the list.  

 
I laid on a blanket on the grass today in the sunshine.  The other half of the blanket became a Fisher burrito as Nick read a book in a chair next to us.  I closed my eyes and heard the boats.  They sounded the same as last year, but I felt differently.  But not weird, like how I feel about that adverb back there.  I breathed easy and searched for eggs like a child because Fisher wanted to hide them for me after he found them all.  My daddy even taught Fisher and me how to fly a kite.  And we all got some exercise.


It's late.  Monday is upon us.  Time to eat a peanut butter egg, check on my boy, and curl up next to the man I love.  

Granny always told me to follow my dreams.  I followed my dreams and I've found them.

Hold them.  Feel them breathe.  

What's really important?  What do we need to change?  

Mind, Body, Spirit: Part Two

My friend, Dorge, who urged me to begin this blog, posted about realizing he had become a scrooge.  I commented that he was the person who taught me the meaning of the word "apathy," and my internal dictionary imposes a picture of his smirking face next to the word as a reminder.  I wrote to him, after reading and being moved by his lament, that I would try to move his face to "lament" instead.  I had to look up that word to be sure it fit what I was saying. 

Again, I'm only an English minor.

So I have been thinking along those lines; I need to give more without being a cynical bitch about it. 

When I was younger, I didn't really get to be a kid for long.  Some of it was my parents' fault, some of it was my own.  My mother was diagnosed with bipolar and spent time locked in her room or in hospitals.  My father wasn't around until I expressed interest in meeting him when I was eleven, which I would have done much earlier if I had known.  Add a perverted step-dad, some other perverts, way too much responsibility, and not enough positive attention, BAM!  Steph was a mess.

I gave.  And I gave.  Family, friends, boyfriends, enemies even.  I gave my time, energy, innocence, love, janitorial skills, money, rides, gifts, cooking prowess (ha), my soul!!  Okay, I got to soul and knew I was going a little far.  At least I stopped.

But really.  I gave a lot.  I used to drive friends around all of the time and my mom yelled at me for it.  "You're wasting all that gas and they don't even help you pay for it.  Don't be driving your friends around; they don't drive you around when you need it."  And she was right. 

But later in life I had to drive her around a lot.  I would say I was getting her back for all the times she drove me around, but Mom always acted like I was asking her a ride to the moon if I wanted to go anywhere I couldn't walk to.  I had just become a mother and I wanted my life with my family and I was damn bitter.  I needed to finally really focus on me and even more, my son.  I was tired of doing for other people and not getting anything in return most of the time. 

It took me awhile to learn to take care of myself.  Actually, the more accurate description would be "to become selfish."  I didn't realize that until recently.  I thought I was just thinking about myself, but no.  It was not as healthy as that should be.  So what do I deem healthy?  Glad you asked.

You shouldn't put other people's needs so far above your own that you neglect yourself.
You should care about how you make others feel.
You should communicate with others about how they make you feel.
You should give of yourself freely, but do not allow people to take advantage of you.
The best people to assist are those who are willing to help themselves.
If people can't help themselves, maybe you should help them when you can.
Most of all, help those who help you, and don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it. 

I may be wrong about some of these things being gospel, but I know that I need a little more love in my life.  In the coming year, I vow to do at least 3 charity walks, and not just sign up, but actually walk.  I also want to feed people who are hungry.  I want to show my mom I'm there for her when I can.  I want to volunteer at my son's school and take him to volunteer with me somewhere that helps less fortunate kids.  I will do these things and more.  I will help friends move, I'll babysit, and I'll bake. 

You bet your ass I'll write for every one of you also.  Try and keep up.

Mind, Body, Spirit: Part One

Inhale.  Exhale.  Clean air.  Too clean, even in this valley.  Seems it would be appreciated, but sometimes I forget how to appreciate things.  Now is one of those times.

It feels dark inside.  Lonely.  Where does strength go when I really need it?  I have to make it go away, the feelings of emptiness and uselessness.  I don't want your pity.  I'm not reaching out.  This is merely a request from a dear friend who wanted to read my mind.  I miss you and yours fiercely.  It used to be if I was lost, I could find myself inside your arms.  I need those arms.  These are excerpts from the things I've been writing:

I saw a girl and she was beautiful.  And she knew how to smile.  I'm sure she has known fear, but she has never been alone.  I wish I knew what that felt like--to not know how it feels to be alone.  Because, in life, once you're swept away, no anchor in sight, no land to reach for, it's so hard to ever trust that everything will be okay, to know that love is real, to find a secure place to be yourself.

Depression doesn't tie itself into a neat little box.  It's not just a change in attitude, an easy fix.  Sometimes it grabs me from behind and takes me in the night, gagged and bound.  When the blindfold is removed I still can't see the end.  My eyes strain.  Nothing.

Not that I enjoy nothing; it just feels like the default is set at "shitty."  Life isn't shitty.  Just me.  Does that mean something is wrong with me?  Do I need medication?  I don't want to be dependent on medication and I really don't think I need it.  It feels like that would just be trading one co-dependency for the next.  I depend on people too much, build my life around them.  Substances, self-medication.  Other bullshit.

Why don't I write more?  Sometimes I hate being a writer.  I try to resist it, even.  As much as it helps me, it's ridiculous how in touch with my emotions I have to be to write.  It seems it makes me vulnerable to this.  To wondering about and obsessing over all the endless possibilities and pieces of life without just enjoying it.  Damn being a woman, too. 

I used to insist I would age gracefully, but I was fucked up a lot back then, maybe delusional.  There's no grace in this fear of everything.  Before I had my child, I didn't really fear death.  In fact, I taunted it almost everyday in some way.  Now it feels like I'm dying, like everyday my cells flake away in the dry heat and it's a part of me that will never return.  But aren't we all dying?  That's why it's most important to enjoy the short time we do have without always worrying about the tomorrow that may or may not come.  Today.  Right now. 

I'm so scared of losing something I've never even had; it's just an idea to me, a happy family of my own.  Time together daily to connect without exhaustion being the cost.  Maybe it's in the future.  Maybe not. 

Change is hard; stagnation is worse.