My Happily Ever After…

After August 7th, 2009 (the proposal date), the rest of 2009 became a blur of activities. In all honesty, I wasn’t a bridezilla at all. Not only because people threatened to disown me if I were to become one or threatened to beat me down a few notches until I became my docile (pfft) self again.

I only made three demands of my parents: 1. I wanted my own dress and not a refurbished one. 2. I wanted real flowers, in honor of my grandmother. 3. I wanted to hold it somewhere that had the historical beauty both G & I adore.

My Dress- I had went dress shopping only once before with my bridesmaids and came up empty-handed. I had a tight budget and not one of the dresses I saw sparked anything in me.  So, when my mother and I decided to go again, it was a complete obligation. I had lost any bit of hope of finding what I wanted. What can I say, you can put a ring on our finger but that doesn’t change the girl’s attitude towards dresses…especially yours truly. I hate dresses with a passion and I hate being fussed over, regardless of my ‘princess’ nickname. So, on this particular excursion, meaning only the second one, my mom and I drove a few cities over with the hopes of a larger selection. Literally the very first dress the sales associate handed me…I knew. I KNEW! It was like the cavewoman instinct took over and I all but licked it and screamed, “MINE”. And that was before I tried it on. But my sales lady insisted on at least trying on a few more, so I did. Nothing compared. Somehow I knew I cheated, I mean what sane bride finds their dress with only the second day of browsing? Either way, it was mine. Period.

Flowers- The most important aspects of my wedding was going to be centered around my flowers and my location. I had decided immediately after the proposal to honor my grandmother’s memory in that manner. So, this was easy. I knew exactly what I wanted and my father even knew someone in the business. See, I told you guys I cheated this some how.

Location- I looked at what seemed like hundreds of locations. (North Carolina is quite beautiful everywhere during September) My initial choice, a winery, had just closed for renovations on the site. Which sucked. But my mother found this gem while searching the net. An added bonus was that it was within our budget.  Once again…easier than it probably should have been. With the exception of our date. They had EVERY DAY filled for the year, except…September 11th. For two days my fiancée and I wrestled with the decision. More than a few people were quite against it, and voiced their opinions rather loudly. But again a few people (including my mother, bridesmaids and a few of our friends) were voices of reason. They helped us weigh the pros and the cons of the date. And ultimately, reason won. We set our date for September 11, 2010. I cried for a few hours after making the decision and my mother sent in our paperwork and deposit.

The Big Day:

The whole package.

After planning on outside event. We took the precaution of having a back-up plan, in case the skies decided to not cooperate. Which they didn’t…at all. It rained, a lot. And I continued to hope, pray and stare out the window to see this:

My view from the tower.

I was almost inconsolable. My vision of my wedding was ruined, or at least that’s how I felt. But the show had to go on, and everyone (except for me…who they refused to let out of the room) jumped into action to alter the greenhouse into some semblance of a wedding hall. My mother and friends quietly comforted me, reminding me that the end result would be the same. Finally, one of the voices of reason made it through to me,”It doesn’t matter where it takes place, as long as it takes place!”

But that's supposed to be good fertility, right?

  The flurry of activity began at hyperspeed, I had wasted so much time moping it had to.  So, after scrambling to make up for lost time and getting everyone together it was time to go downstairs and get ready for my entrance. The only problem was we had NO idea the guys were leaving their area at the same exact time. My fantastic bridesmaids flew into action…the result was this picture:

Probably the best wedding picture, ever.

After the bridesmaids left to make their entrance, I found myself standing in this gigantic historical house, freaking out and trying to not ruin my make-up. Mim, having been married 3 years at this point, began to tell me stories from behind the scenes of her wedding. She did everything in her power to help me calm down and to stop the bubble of  hysteria I felt coming to head, the customary shot we had taken before exiting the bridal suite may have helped quite a bit too.

During the reception

So the rest of the wedding went without many hiccups, not to say they didn’t happen…just no one let me know about them. My friends and family are awesome at controlling when and where to give me information and apparently these situations were need to know, and I didn’t need to know in their opinions. Haha.

The only real issue I had: the preacher, who knew my husband since he was a child, continuously called him by a different name. Granted, the name was borderline the same but my point, that I reiterated by correcting him with, was it was NOT my husband’s name! And of course, after realizing what I had done (correcting the preacher is seriously a no-no), I burst into a sudden case of the giggles.  The entire length from where we said ‘I Do’ to watering our union tree (as opposed to candles…hello, it was supposed to be outside in nature),  I giggled…and not the cute giggles but the nerves-have-gotten-the-better-of-me-and-I-can’t-control-it giggles. Horrifying.

The one moment to ourselves...

In the end the voice of reason was right. Regardless of where and how it took place the goal was achieved.

 I married my best friend.

First Dance: Richard Marx- Now & Forever...cliche but fitting.

September 11, 2010 became one of my favorite days in my life, we didn’t forget what happened 9 years prior…but we didn’t want to disrespect that fateful day by letting those events damper any happiness on a calendar ever again. The spread of joy and love at our wedding during the remembrance of such a sad event is the only way I know it was the right decision, one that I continue to stand by to this day.

P.S.  I’m still living my happily ever after…a year later. Happy Anniversary, squishy.

Much Love,

K

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