Best Day of My Life (So Far)

So, since today is my third wedding anniversary I think it’s fitting that I write in this blog about romance the story of my wedding day. It’s not anywhere near as sappy and perfect as the stories in books, but I wouldn’t trade a single moment (even the bad ones).

The day started out well enough. I stayed the night at my mom’s house for the sake of tradition and somehow managed to sleep. It wasn’t a deep sleep but good enough that I didn’t have bags under my eyes. I had to wake up at the ass crack of dawn in order to get everything ready since we were on a tight schedule. Like hangman’s noose level’s of tight.

We had to drive out to the next town over to get my hair done by my stylist (who is the God of great hair) and he did a magnificent job. It was beautiful the way he wove white faux flowers into my braid and set my tiara and veil. The only problem was that those levels of perfection take time and we went over ours… By a lot.

So my mom is speeding to get me to the makeup place where I had an appointment and I think cops avoided pulling her over due to the murderous look on her face. It was kind of epic. She braked so hard in front of the makeup place that her tires squealed and I smelled burning rubber.

I got rushed into the place and I think I met an angel because she worked some kind of miracle. The woman who put on my makeup was SO rushed with the appointment any yet she was able to make me look amazing (not an easy feat). Plus she was so nice and kept me from having a panic attack every thirty seconds. I’m telling you, I was made over by an angel.

Mom comes back and lays on the horn out front just as the finishing touches are applied and we are racing again because the church has a time limit for the ceremony. I’m not even in my dress. I haven’t even gotten to brush my TEETH.

We get to the Naval base (because the church is on base) only to realize that while getting clearance for all non-military guests my mom forgot to add herself to the list. We have no base stickers… This is BAD. We might have to go and apply for a temporary pass levels of bad. I MIGHT MISS MY WEDDING LEVELS OF BAD!

I think the sailor saw me losing my mind in the backseat because by some merciful act of the divine he let us through and even wished me luck. Thank you Jesus the sailor. Thank you.

We book it to the church and I’m herded into the dressing room and thanks to mom’s past of motocross and dirt road car racing we have enough time to make it… If we REALLY hurry. So I have my sister-in-law, my mom, and my maid of honor all working assembly line to get me in my gown and keep me from freaking out. All the dudes are done and ready while we are scrambling.

Still, I got my big emotional moment with my mom telling me everything I needed to hear and then some. Plus the photographer snapped some snazzy pics. Everything was coming together. I was starting to panic. The wedding party lined up and we were all buzzing with nervous energy.

The organ began to play… It had begun.

My dad (who is confined to a power wheelchair) stood at my side holding my hand and giving me more words that I needed to hear. At my back were the double doors that lead to escape. In front of me was the future (over the top of the wedding party’s heads so I couldn’t exactly see him).

We had to give my niece, Hailey, double duty as my flower girl and train holder because it was such a small gathering. Apparently she took her job very seriously because as she walked down the aisle she dropped one petal at a time until her dad politely informed her that handfuls were okay. Then, when she reached the front, she sprinted to one side of the church and ran at top speed back to me to help with my dress. I love her.

The rest of the party walking ahead of me went well aside from my sister-in-law nearly face planting. Great photos were taken and my time to shine was approaching.

As all this is going down I am having flashes of everything that can go wrong. I even remember my number one terror: That the hem of my gown would get caught under one of Dad’s wheels and I’d end up flashing everyone my chest in a church. I couldn’t seem to work up my usual enthusiastic optimism when I really REALLY needed it.

Then it was my turn. ‘Here Comes the Bride’ rang out loud and proud, echoing around me as well as in my head. I was counting my steps in my head (praying I wouldn’t trip and that my dress would be safe from dad’s wheelchair). I heard a collective gasp and I thought something bad had happened but I was too scared to look.

Turns out the gasp was when everyone saw me (That’s a good thing, right?).

Dad and I started our way down the aisle and I couldn’t help but look at everyone and feel a bit better when they were all smiling. Still, it wasn’t until I looked at the front of the church that I was able to breathe.

You hear all the stories about how when the bride and groom meet each other’s eyes as she walks to his side. Everything in the world feels right and time stands still. It’s a magical moment that can’t really be done justice in words. Those stories are true.

When I met David’s eyes it was like I had taken my first gulp of air after I’d been drowning. There was nothing else in the world as my vision tunneled around him. I could feel my lips curving up into a smile in perfect unison with his own blissful grin blossoming on his face. Everything was going to be okay. No matter what went wrong as long as that beautiful man was there at the end of the line I knew without a single doubt I could handle anything.

And so I walked down the aisle without a single incident and came to stand in front of my future husband. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him and I think I only half-heard the preacher reciting the sacred speech of marriage. It was all going great until it was time for us to read our vows.

We’d written our own to each other and after I read mine we realized that David’s vows were tucked safely on a piece of paper out in mom’s car within the depths of her monstrous purse. My stepdad, Yankee, tried to go and fetch them but we were so short on time that we had to skip over that par.

THEN my brother-in-law, Devin, who was our ring bearer and David’s best man… Pretended he’d lost our rings. I’ll admit I MAY have tried to hand my maid of honour my bouquet so I could choke the life out of him. David thought it was hilarious and he treasures the photo of my deadly expression that the photographer managed to snap.

After that it went smoothly once again until it was time to form the receiving line. I hadn’t been briefed on that wee detail (I haven’t been to a lot of weddings in my time) and David didn’t know either, so we were on the way to his car when someone caught up and told us the drill. WHOOPS.

After all the well-wishing it was time to head back to mom’s house, where she had worked her own miracles my making our party tent into a slice of heaven. She made almost every single decoration by herself and nearly everything was from the dollar store but I swear to you it looked like a professional had pulled it together. It was amazing!

So we began the festivities with me reading off all my thank you speeches that I had written while everyone anxiously waited for it to end so they could start drinking. David got the chance to read his vows (and they were beautiful) and then the party really started.

A few fun facts. We didn’t have the music I’d requested because my uncle was too sick to be able to make the CD. One of my aunts had to go out and buy the CD with our wedding song on it (‘Write You a Song’ by the Plain White Ts) and we played that sucker on Yankee’s ancient stereo that he set up in the tent. Then we just switched through radio stations for stuff to dance to and it worked.

As the night progressed we all got pretty hammered (aside from David and I since we had plans and those that were underage). This is a wedding party of mostly Irish, German, Dutch and other notorious drinkers. Things were bound to get crazy.

And did they ever.

While David and I, as well as the younger set of guests, went into mom’s living room to catch our breath there was an ‘Incident’. From what I hear one of our waiters (who is a family friend) was wasted and one of the female guests (also three sheets to the wind) jokingly requested he strip for them since I didn’t have a bachelorette party. What gentleman would decline such a sensible request, right?

Well Yankee, who is an honorable man and awesome to the extreme, wasn’t quite so encouraging. He had also imbibed a fair amount of spirits and rushed to defend my honor and my wedding by punching our Chippendale Dancer in the face. It was a bit of a drunken mess but HELLO, we’re Irish and so we got over it quick. Plus I’m totally cool because it makes for a hilarious story.

Eventually it wise time for the groom to take his bride off to consummate and my mom had set us up with a hotel room at the Hilton on the beach. There was some kind of mix up about valet parking and then another mix up to where instead of a single bed we got two beds but again I wouldn’t complain (One for fun, one for sleep).

We were exhausted but we were also stubborn as hell and so we were going to celebrate our union the traditional way! I just had to figure out the mystery of my hair and change into my wedding night outfit (black lace, woohoo!).

I swear we spent at LEAST an hour digging bobby pins and decorations out of my hair. That was seriously our foreplay because by the time my hair was free it was either do it or pass out. We did it… And afterwards were too worked up to pass out like we needed so we hopped in the shower.

I don’t know what my stylist used in my hair but I think at least one ingredient was glue. I had this helmet of weird curls that lifted up off the back of my head and I think the hotel shampoo, conditioner, and even the hot water just slid right off of my amazing helmet. Also more hidden ninja bobby pins escaped the confines of my follicle labyrinth to settle on the floor of the tub.

My mascara also seemed to contain glue since it was INVINCIBLE. I swear nothing got rid of it! I rubbed my eyes raw trying to clean them and then just gave up.

Our exhaustion finally caught up with us and we climbed into bed (me unknowingly falling asleep on a chocolate left on my pillow so when I woke up my hair was candy coated) and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

SO many things went screwy on top of all the incidents I told you. For example, our custom rings that were being shipped in from Ireland didn’t come in on time AND were too big so we had to get them adjusted. We wore dummy wedding bands just to have the symbol there and mine didn’t fit me so  had to wear a band adjuster.

And yet it was the absolute, hands down, BEST day of my life. I still look back on that day with nothing but pure joy and when I look through our wedding album I’m always moved deeply. It’s weird but I feel like all the things that went wrong just made everything feel even more right.

I want to thank EVERYONE that made that day so perfect for us again if they read this (and even if they don’t). I also want to give a little shout out to the people upstairs that gave us so many miracles in one day. I know this sounds like an awards speech but it kind of is since I got the best damn reward for all my trials and tribulations: My husband.

(Also I swear I tried to post this at 11:59 p.m. on November 10th so I could keep up my daily entry status but wouldn’t you know my net lagged. So it will SEEM like I missed a day but I totally didn’t. Ask my best friends on MSN. They are my witnesses.)


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