Exactly one week before the wedding, I got violently ill. I also turned 30. Not in that order. But close.
30 meant Korean BBQ and karaoke. it was great, especially because I got to sing the last song.
My second day of 30 years of age meant some truly horrible things. The cause of which was traced to an office lunch provided during an all day meeting the day before. One of the most amusing pre-wedding conversations was with a Department of Health staffer asking me for a stool sample and how many episodes of you know what I had had.
I planned to work the Monday-Wednesday of the wedding week. “Work” being a fungible idea that week. I got done what I needed to and placed in someone else’s hands what should have been done while I was away.
After torturing a small fraction of my office with wedding planning stories for the better part of the year, they threw me a v. nice shower. It was a total surprise. I felt like a gladiator going off to battle when I was leaving the office with everyone cheering me on. Physically, I felt like one because of the cake at the shower. I love Make My Cake, you should too.
Wednesday night, I felt good enough to do some hot yoga with one of my friends, who I will call Cheerleader of Marriage. A clear advocate of marriage and taking the plunge, she’s been a great support. You know that one friend that really steps up her A-game for you and your wedding, that’s COM. Addresses all of your little (do I need to put bows on all of the programs?) and big (will my future step father in law behave?) concerns with the answers you want to hear but couldn’t really think up yourself (hell no) and (I will throw myself between you and him, don’t worry).
Then, miraculously, from Wednesday on, it was calm.
My husband’s (!) phone starting ringing off the hook on Thursday with calls from family coming in from the unnamed state of corn-holes. My phone was mysteriously quiet. For the better.
We took care of some last minute things on Thursday. When we dropped of the seating cards and table tents, our restaurant was overtaken by the movie “The Beaver” with Jodie Foster and Mel Gibson. I tried to imagine what those two would talk about and couldn’t come up with anything but the sound of crickets.
I went to pick up our favors, black and white cookies baked by my professional chef friend at her restaurant. She wasn’t quite finished so I got to go into the pastry kitchen and wrap some up myself. That was a really fun moment. It was surreal enough to warrant a “This is really happening and I’m labeling my cookies with a sticker with a date two days from now.” No stress from anywhere, just me, my friend, baking supplies and a bunch of strangers who were nice to me because they wanted leftover cookies.
That night, we started the family ping-pong experiment that my husband (!) is used to but that usually happens in his state between his divorced parents families. That was fine.
Friday. Oh, Friday. I thought it was going to be quieter than it was.
I woke up and went for a jog, showered, noticed a water stain (this is important much later) on the ceiling and went to get a mani-pedi. On the way, I scoffed at a text message from my husband’s step mother asking if I or he was available for lunch. Sorry lady, it’s the day before my wedding and no I am not available, enjoy that crack pipe.
Mani-pedi was at a delightfully average shop with one of my preggers bridesmaids. It was great. No guilt at taking the extra 15 minute foot rub. We went to lunch after, also delicious, and then because of impending rain, I thought it would make perfect sense to buy that expensive but cute rainbow umbrella from the MOMA store. And I think I wanted to get one more totally unnecessary purchase that I justified as "wedding related." Unfortunately, this made me late to meet my sister at my apartment.
Getting ready to leave the apartment as a single person and not forget anything, because I wasn’t going to be back until I was a married person, was a little stressful. Plus, I hadn’t realized that I wouldn’t see my husband (!) until the rehearsal and dinner. THE. REHEARSAL. DINNER. You know the one.
My sister was great at getting me packed and ready. For all her nagging during the planning, she proved to be the Most Valuable Player of my weekend.
The FDR was NOT great at getting us from the lower east side to her place in Westchester. Bad, FDR, bad. If you are a NYC bride, you should know better than taking a car anywhere the Friday before your wedding. You should ALWAYS take mass transit. I was blinded by the promise of a seat in a car.
And so I was privy to the great rush of getting two children ready for the rehearsal at the church. I kind of let them sweat it out thinking that it started at 545, when it really started at 6 because if they knew, we wouldn’t have been there until 615. You know I’m right.
V. important bridal tip: lie to people about start times.
I was shocked that everyone was there on time, but not as shocked as I was when I met our barely competent 19 year old church wedding coordinator. Again, my sister stepped in and saved the day with her bossy self, otherwise, we would have been there forever. Forcing questions and reassurances, my sister was awesome and I was happy to not be on the receiving end of those questions.
The rehearsal…was surreal.
20 hours ago