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I Do

amykoehn 4 Comments

January 10, 2013

In an intimate, private ceremony at our church up the road, our pastor married us. Flash served as best man, maid of honor, witness, ring bearer, photographer…. It was exactly as we wanted it to be. The Mister whisked me away to a delicious dinner and then a night at the Inn on the lake.

We could not possibly be happier!

For the Last Time

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When you’ve been counting down the days since something like 83 to go, it seems impossible that we are down to one so soon. For the last time, I kissed WG goodnight at the back door and told him to travel safely home. For the last time I picked up my house, loaded my dishwasher and turned off my lights. For the last time he texted to say he was “at the other house” safely. I have spent my last day in the classroom being called Miss Jane. I have made my last decision without regard to how it impacts two other people. I have transferred money and paid bills from accounts with only one name on it for the last time. I have signed my maiden name for the last time. I will fall asleep tonight in the middle of the bed for the last time (he hopes!).

I am also done attending events alone. I am done being a third at a card table without a fourth. I will not travel on vacation by myself again. I will not be left to make major life decisions without the help of another opinion. I will have someone’s hand to hold when the movie gets scary, when we walk with the dog, or when my tears start to roll. I will have someone to make me laugh when I am taking life, or myself, too seriously. I will have someone to be angry for me when I feel unjustly accused or mistreated. I will have someone to congratulate me, celebrate and cheer me on when I triumph.

I will have someone to turn to and say, “Can you believe he….” After leaving a get-together. I will have someone else who can pick up the necessary ingredients to get dinner going when I am running late. I will have a co-conspirator when I plot evil ways to get even with the teenager for his latest prank. I will have someone to whisper my fears to in the dark as we lie in bed.

More importantly than I may have realized the first time around, I will have someone to sit beside me in church. Someone who thinks I am beautiful. Someone who will gladly have Nerf wars with Flash, but will also tell him to put his cell phone away at dinner. I will have a true partner; a friend who knows all my secrets, all my regrets, all my fears and loves me anyway. I will have a problem-solver, a snowblower-operator, an amazing cook, a comedian, (a terrible grammarian).

Tonight, for the last time, I am alone. Tomorrow we wed. For the last time.

Just Send Me The Therapy Bill Now

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With less than a week to go before the wedding, I was out running several errands today. I needed to pick up a card for our pastor, drop off a dress at the consignment shop, pick up a few groceries to get us through the next few days, stop by the mall to get something more attractive than sweats to wear on our wedding night and hunt down the paint you use to write on car windows. I had mentioned to Flash how I thought I would surprise WG with a big, “Just Married!” on the back glass after the wedding but it took me three stops to finally find stuff that is made for the purpose and supposedly comes off easily.

Expecting WG to be at the house by the time I arrived home, I tucked the glass paint markers in another bag before coming in the house. Flash helped me put away the groceries, and with WG still not present, I decided to show the markers to Flash.

“Hey, Flash, don’t tell WG, but look what I found today!” I said as I reached into the bag.

“Whoa, Mom. Whatever it is I do NOT want to know!” shouted Flash surprisingly as I reached into the bag to pull out the paint pens.

“What? It’s just those glass markers I was telling you about,” I said, holding them out so he could see. “What is the matter?”

“Holy cripes, Mom! You were reaching into a Victoria’s Secret bag!”

No Room at the Inn

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Yesterday afternoon, curled up the couch, fighting day ten of a miserable cold and just killing time until my doctor’s appointment, I noticed something amiss with the crèche on top of the armoire.

“Um, Chief? What’s on the crèche? Up by the star? Is that…..is that a bat?!”

Chief didn’t have to look twice to know I was exactly right. Nestled up against the beautiful star he had created just a few weeks ago, was a most unwelcome addition to our manger scene.

“Go outside.”

I admit freely and readily here, no greater words have been spoken. For once, I didn’t have to man up and figure out how to rid my nativity of a bat. Chief did. So, I did exactly as instructed. I grabbed my coat and the dog and headed outside. Chief followed long enough to get his step ladder from the garage and to talk aloud of his plan for the creature’s demise. I just nodded eagerly at any suggestion that did not involve my help.

In my honest disclosure, I have to say, being the one who has already had rabies shots, there is an ounce of guilt that I am not in there dealing with this issue, but not nearly enough guilt to make me assist. About the time I thought I should remind Chief to not let the creature go should he get scratched or bitten, he came out the front door with the unwanted guest in a dish towel, gave it a hard thwack against the trash barrel and threw it all inside.

My hero. Truly.

He later told me bits and pieces of his heroic effort, but at the words, “when it jumped…” and, “so I set the crèche on top of it to keep it still…” I had to beg him to stop. Too much information.

So, Star of Wonder, I appreciate you providing a bit of warmth to the furry bat that took lodging there briefly (I hope it was briefly). Chief, you will forever be my hero for letting me be the sissy girl. Flash, this is the second time you have been ansent for a bat extraction. Duly noted. The next one is all yours. And to the THREE pets, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!?

What We Learned…

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…in 36 hours at the hospital that was’t covered in our pre-marital counseling sessions:

1. When you are looking forward to a weekend of no school work, just relaxing together, be careful what you wish for.

2. It’s time to update our In Case of Emergency numbers.

3. The nurses in the ER will be skeptical when you say, “I am his fiancée” when you are wearing a cable tie for a ring, if you have to look at your cell phone to know his number and if you have no idea if he is still seeing Dr. Bourne or not.

4. Scrabble is entertaining. For about an hour.

5. Sitting down and watching a movie sounds great when you are home on the couch. It is torture when you are stuck in a hospital bed.

6. Despite their admonishments to get some rest, the nursing staff will be the very ones who prevent a good night’s sleep by insisting on blood draws and blood pressure checks every hour.

7. Eavesdropping on conversations in the ER, hallways and elevators will make you count your blessings every time.

8. A homemade turkey salad sandwich never tasted so good after hospital food.

9. Having patience is only required of one of you. It actually works well to alternate, as it keeps the nursing staff guessing and keeps them on their toes when either of you approach their station with a question.

10. Most importantly, we learned how lucky we are to have someone there. While all tests came back negative and we leave with the comfort of a healthy bill of slate, it means even more to know when there are issues down the road, we will be there with each other and for each other.

My Day

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It’s like the gods know you’re trying to plan a low-key, drama-free, intimate wedding, and they just have to mess with you.  If our ring drama wasn’t enough (the cable tie is holding up nicely, though, thank you for asking), the dress has been a royal pain.  I am certain the dress is a major concern in all weddings, but part of keeping this whole thing simple, was not to let such silly things become huge things.  Yeah, right.

The dress I ordered is neither the right color nor size, two issues that sent me into a small tailspin mid-week.  I set today aside as my day to remedy that situation and cross that stressor off.  Of course, I would be doing this without a ring on my finger, being a plump 40-something and not wanting anything along the lines of “typical wedding dress”.  What a fun day this would be!
 I decided to brave an actual bridal store, although I was quite skeptical about them having what I wanted.  The drive was a bit of a distance, but of all bridal stores, I had highest hopes for this one.  Yeah, um, no.  While I gave it a go, and even agreed to try on a couple gowns, I still left nearly in tears from having to undress with a complete stranger to help me put an ugly satin thing on, only to have this same stranger (who was all of 20) tell me how bad that sort of waistline made me look and that this or that was just certainly not for me….right.  Like I was unaware of this. She kept giving me color advice, “for being a redhead” as though I was new to that color palette and not 41 years used to it.  
In any case, that traumatic experience shall not be repeated in my lifetime.  I have sworn off bridal shops for.evAH.  (And in case you are thinking, oh heck, I would have gone with you, please realize I am far less likely to allow someone I know well help me in and out of dresses.  At least I can rest easily tonight knowing that while I have probably scarred that poor young thing for life, at least I will never have to face her again.)
From there, the next best option was the city, and of course not the one I live in, and it certainly couldn’t be someplace that would have a short direct route from where I currently was.  But, to the city it is.  And the search begins for a boutique a friend recommended, only to finally figure out after quite an extensive, back-and-forth search, that it has gone out of business at some point.  Fine.  Be that way.  So, a couple stores were hit along the way until the only option left was the nice, big, mall. 
Yes, a mall.  In December.  Just where I want to be!  The first store I hit, however, had some potential.  As long as I changed my idea of what I had imagined, and went with a “whatever works at this point” attitude, we might actually be in luck.  “Special occasion dresses” don’t generally come in all ivory, nor look this time of year like what I would like to have, but fine.  Let’s alter the vision and cross off a stressor.  I tried some on, asked the clerk to hold two and continued shopping.  
All around the mall, surrounded by more people than I enjoy, I went in any and every store that had potential.  Nothing else came close anywhere else, so back to the original store.  I still couldn’t decide between two.  To complicate matters, (because of course there had to be further complications), the one I was leaning towards was missing the little jacket that went with it.  There was one in a smaller size, but it certainly felt like a smaller size.  I finally decided that was the dress I wanted.  The clerk, a very busy, quite ragged clerk at that, told me there should be a jacket in the right size somewhere….it was just a matter of where.  While she helped other patrons, I looked everywhere.  I was back at the counter, ready to tell her that I was unable to fine it, when I caught a glimpse of the fabric on a mismatched rack of various items.  I grabbed it off of there and sure enough, it was the size I needed that went with my dress.  The clerk was thrilled and so was I.  She felt badly about being so busy she couldn’t even help me look and scanned a coupon I didn’t have that gave me 25% off!  Woohoo!
So, there is a dress.  Not like the vision in my head, but a dress. 
But more importantly, there is a man.  A patient, loving man, who sat in a Jeep, or on a couch in the shoe department, who read sports updates on his phone, or watched toy demonstrations, all.day.long so I could hang a dress in my closet.  He had been up at 3 for work and still endured driving all over the state, in and out of stores and watching his frazzled fiancée struggle to keep her wits about her all for the want of a stupid, wear-it-once dress.  He didn’t go because shopping is his thing; he didn’t go because I insisted; he didn’t go to keep an eye on my purchase or the money spent on it; he went because he knows how much I hate to shop and how stressed I am about this silly dress, and so he went, despite my permission to stay home, to help me through it.  He saw a problem and he wanted to do his part in finding a solution.  And he did it well.
Problem is, now the flowers have to be changed.
Sigh.  I hear the gods laughing….

Second Grade Spelling

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“Miss Eliza?”

“Yes, L?”

“How do you spell, “ovum?”

“Ovum?  What do you mean, L?  Can you use it in a sentence for me?”

“Sure.  Like, ‘…there were a hundred ovum…'”

“Ah, L.  You mean ‘of them’ then.  Two words.”

“Two words?  Really?  For ‘ovum’?!  Huh!”

I shouldn’t be so surprised.  This comes from my same second grade class that believes fairy tales start with “Wunsa pona time….”

Maybe by the end of the year I can get all ovum to spell better so we can live Happily Ever After.

Blessed

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Last night, curled up on the couch with just the Christmas tree lights on, WG and I were looking at my nativity set atop the armoire.  I was telling him about how Bear made the crèche for me and how perfect it is.  I mentioned how I had received the pieces over a couple of years and for several occasions until I had the full set.  We sat together for awhile, admiring, until I said, “About the only thing missing is a star.”  WG asked what kind of star I had in mind and having not given it a lot of thought, I simply said I thought it should be lit up, but other than that, I didn’t really know.  I thought maybe Mary and Joseph should have a bit of light on them as well, but I wasn’t sure how to accomplish all that.
Tonight, finally arriving home after running errands, I walked into the living room to see an amazing glowing star atop the crèche!  WG had rigged an ornament full of lights, mounted it and even blackened out unnecessary lights to make my nativity scene just perfect.
I stood in awe.  I couldn’t believe how perfectly he had taken a poorly described vision in my head and made it a reality just 18 hours later.
Oh how I love this man.  And oh, the ways he shows his love for me.  Thank you, WG.  For my early Christmas blessing.  

The Substitute

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Ah, my ring.  My beautiful, complicated, patience-teaching ring.  When asked, quite awhile ago now, what sort of ring I might like, I had no idea.  It had been over 20 years since I last looked at diamonds.  It didn’t take me long to know I didn’t like much of what I saw in the jewelry cases around town, though.  Bling is definitely in, just not for me.  I stumbled across Tacori.  Known for their hand-engraving, I loved the etched style, adored the elegant and unique look and knew that was certainly my style of ring.  Even so, the two jewelers in our area that carry Tacori didn’t carry the hand-engraved rings.  The jeweler had to order them in for us to even look at.  Per WG’s request, I narrowed the field, but he chose the ring.

And he did a marvelous job.  My ring is absolutely stunning.  One solitaire stone set in a vintage-style band with gorgeous engraving around the band.  Even the mount for the diamond is intricate and beautiful.

Of course, all this handiwork takes time.  A month, it would seem.  And so, I waited.  Not-very-patiently.  But finally, much to WG’s relief, it came and he proposed, and all was right in the world again.

Until we went looking for a wedding band.  You see, this mount has a certain curve to it, so regular bands won’t lie next to it correctly.  Tacori makes a “matching band” of course, but again, no one had it for us to look at in person.  We finally asked the jeweler to order it in that we might see it.  And so we did today.  And we both really loved it, and it goes so nicely with my engagement ring, and even though WG had to donate his other kidney for it, we decided to order it.

At which point I had to take off my not-two-weeks-old engagement ring to be sent back so the matching band can be perfectly aligned and engraved and sigh…..gone. For four more weeks.  I know it makes sense, and truly, I wouldn’t want to do this any other way, as these two really will look beautiful sitting side by side, but FOUR MORE WEEKS?!

Oh, to have patience.

WG isn’t so sure he wants to deal with me and my impatient self for this month or ringlessness, but he also didn’t really like the idea of me not having a ring on my finger while we wait.  Ever the romantic, WG was quick with a solution.  Already over budget on rings, he created a low-cost, worry-free, lifetime replacement guarantee substitute ring…

….out of a cable tie.  He had it on my finger in the parking lot of the jeweler, not ten minutes after I had taken my beautiful diamond off.

I have to admit, he is clever.  I don’t think there is a man out there that would dare steal away the fiancée of another man, especially when her engagement is marked by a cable tie!