Adorable Napalm: I Did (and Still Do)

This time three years ago, my hair was on top of my head like Pebbles Flintstone, I had on absolutely no makeup, and a photographer was taking pictures of my sneakers.

I was a bride.

Mom and I had massage, hair and makeup appointments at the fancy day spa in town, and an aspiring-photographer friend of Mom's came along to document. My hair and makeup could have been better, but I wouldn't trade those photos for the world. For my 29th birthday, Mom took those pictures (which I had not seen, believe it or not) and put them in an album for me, juxtaposed against corresponding pictures of me growing up. Me as a bride, talking on the cellphone next to me as a toddler, talking on a pretend phone; the makeup artist putting lipstick on me for the wedding, alongside a picture of me in my bedroom, putting on lipstick for Prom. Mothers, if you ever want to cause your daughter to sob uncontrollably, give them this scrapbook. Mom, I love it.

As soon as we left the spa, the deluge hit. I have never seen so much rain in my life. If it's good luck to have rain on your wedding day, then Thomas and I are beyond blessed.

The rest of the day was a blur. My curls started falling. Curt's shoelace broke on the way out of the door. With the rain, we couldn't take pictures in front of the Church, and weren't allowed to take them inside, so there was a bit of a tapdance to find a new location. My mom's friend, Kathy, volunteered her beautiful Victorian home months before, but it's restoration took longer than expected. Luckily, Kathy had a neighbor with an equally beautiful Victorian home that was fully-restored and filled the most gorgeous Christmas decorations. They said they would be honored to have us take our pictures there. God bless the kindness of strangers.

I got dressed at Kathy's house. The broken shoelace put us a little behind, timewise, causing the photographer to throw a fit. Mom laced me into my corset-style gown as quickly as she could, and shoved me out the door, sans pantyhose or heels. I ended up taking all my pre-wedding photos in sneakers. Just as well, though. At least I was comfortable.

The boys had their pictures taken first, then Thomas was whisked off to an upstairs bedroom to prevent him from seeing the bride before the wedding. Then we had pictures of the girls, the family, the bride alone (amid a chorus of "oh, you look just like Belle!"). After that, we all loaded into cars (my dress nearly drowned poor little Curt), and headed for the church.

Photo Credit: tripletsandus.com

Photo Credit: Whitney Upton

About half-way downtown, Mom's phone rang. It was Thomas. "Can I come out now?" No one had remembered to get him when we left! He was still in that upstairs bedroom.

Eventually, we all got to the church. The rain let up long enough for me to get my enormous dress inside the building. The boys reported to the Sacristy, while the girls were whisked away to the big Confessional (an actual room, and not the little closet thingy you see in movies). That's where we learned that I'd lost my grandmother's wedding ring. My step-dad found it, but not before the flower girl completely freaked out over it. My mom lost her false eyelashes, but my theatrical bridesmaids fixed them (probably by pulling the rest of them off). I discovered it was my baby cousin's fourth birthday and sang Happy Birthday with her. We mangaged to disentagle another little cousin from her dress (don't ask), and I pulled a miniature Quasimodo off of the bellringer. Never a dull moment at this wedding. No, sir.

The actual wedding went a lot more smoothly than I'd hoped. The children scattered (as per usual), Thomas and I spent the ceremony trying to figure out who had a better opening to sprint to the back door, and Genna's bouquet fell apart in her hands. In other words, typical wedding. Oh, we also somehow managed to not have anyone to escort Thomas' mother back up the aisle (God, I hope someone escorted her down the aisle! I was dealing with the two year-old hunchback at the time, so I really have no idea), so the Deacon took it upon himself to do it. I've honestly never seen her happier. I think it made her feel really special. I sure hope so, anyway.

The reception was in a beautiful hall that was decorated to look almost like a New Orleans courtyard, which went perfectly with our Mardi Gras theme. One of the groomsmen was a DJ, and offered his services, but ended up having to leave right after the wedding. The best man stepped in, thankfully. He didn't have a clue how to run anything, and spoke in a shy, Scottish brogue. He endeared himself to me in that one act more than he ever could have if he'd tried. I am forever grateful to him for taking care of that for us.

I forgot the tossing garter. The tossing bouquet fell apart in mid-air. The groom's cake turned people's mouths blue (the kids loved it!). Everyone ate, drank, and had a wonderful time.