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So, yeah, I�m a married woman now. So much has happened since my last real entry�where do I even begin?
Well, let�s see�
The day before the wedding, I was a wreck. I�d hit a point where no one, least of all the Boyfriend, could do anything right. Everyone was pissing me off. I was ready to just run away. We drove up to the hotel and checked in. I didn�t say much on the ride there. The Boyfriend wisely just let the radio play.
Arriving at the hotel didn�t help. People were starting to trickle in, and that required my playing hostess, something I just wasn�t ready for yet. The Boyfriend�s dad got lost, then called his cell phone and berated the Boyfriend for his lost-ness (although the problem was just that his dad hadn�t quite followed the directions�). Amy was calling and insisting that we come down to her room. Mom and Judy needed me to come get my dress and other accoutrements out of the minivan. I was hungry and tense, and in need of a nap. Not a good combination.
Finally, we got the stuff all in, the dress hung up, Amy settled, the welcome baskets into the correct rooms, the guests greeted and bride showered. That seemed to help. Around 4:45, we caravanned over to the Barn for the rehearsal.
Amazingly enough, once we got there, I stopped worrying. We walked into the garden, where the ceremony was supposed to be, my family was sitting over to the side, the kids were all smiling and having a good time, and nothing else mattered.
The rehearsal was chaos. Take one 23-person bridal party, mix in just enough traffic to make a few people late, add a big, empty field and try to establish some order and logic. Go ahead, try. It won�t work.
I didn�t care. I was getting married.
After we went through the ceremony and had practiced recessing out of the garden, my cousin Talia, our 12-year-old junior bridesmaid, looked at me with her arms crossed and her face screwed into a pout. �This is dumb,� she announced. �This is stupid, and I�m not going to do it.�
I looked back at her. �Okay.�
�Okay?�
�Yeah�okay. I mean, I�ll be sad if you don�t want to be part of the wedding, but that�s up to you.�
She didn�t know what to do with that. I didn�t care. I was getting married, with or without her.
After the rehearsal, we crossed the street to the Firehouse Museum, right next to the barn. The building was once an old, one-ladder fire truck, and had been donated to the Peabody Historical Society as a museum. Downstairs is full of all fire house-related memorabilia, and upstairs is a function room. Betsy had elected to make the dinner a clambake, and Woodman�s was on hand and ready to start handing out chowder and steamers, lobster and chicken, corn on the cob and coleslaw. Yummy.
At some point, I looked around the room and smiled. There were, all told, about 70 people in the room. I know�a huge rehearsal dinner. But with a bridal party of 23, including nine kids, three readers and a few out-of-town guests, the group grew fast. And truthfully, they were the people we�re closest to. At that moment, I knew that if the wedding was as successful as the rehearsal dinner, we�d done well.
The Boyfriend and I drove back to the hotel together and sat in the lobby for about 20 minutes, drinking tea and reflecting on both the day we�d just completed and the one we were about to begin. Eventually, I said goodnight to him and went to the room my mom and I were sharing. I opened the door to find her with Carla, Judy and the Mitchell women, ready to put on moisturizing face masks and spend a few minutes of �girl time� before bed. We ate leftover desserts the Woodman�s crew had sent home with us and laughed a lot. Once everyone�s faces were clean and the apple crisp was gone, we all went to bed.
I managed to sleep until about 7 the day of the wedding. Or, I slept until 5:30, then made myself go back to sleep again. Around 7:30, Mom went foraging and returned with tea and scones. We watched random TV while I painted her nails. Judy finally came and rousted us out of bed for breakfast in the restaurant downstairs. I�m pretty sure I ate something. Couldn�t tell you what.
When we walked into the restaurant, half the people eating there were our wedding guests. I couldn�t stop smiling.
I was getting married.
After breakfast, Mom, Judy, Erica and I drove over to the barn, where we met Lois and Carla for some cake assembly and early decorating. Lois put together the layers of the giant Rice Krispie cake and added the poseable farm animals, including the veiled pig and bow-tied horse she�d glued into a little arbor for the top. The other cakes were a little more simplistic than that. I ate frosting and listened to marriage advice from the women who have acted as my extra mothers. Finally, it was time to get ready. Judy brought me back to the hotel to shower.
Clean and dressed, hair done, makeup on, everything in the bag, I was ready about 15 minutes early. I stood in front of the window and watched the clouds. �I think we�re getting married inside.� Everyone told me to think positively. What they didn�t understand was that it was okay. I wasn�t worried. I was getting married.
The Felton Jr. House, dressing site for the female half of the bridal party, was chaos part 2. Josh, the photographer, weaved in and out, catching for posterity the entire process. Everyone was dusted in sparkles with hair re-bobby pinned and dresses adjusted. Talia showed up, despite her claim that she wasn�t going to walk with us, dressed and ready to go. The caterers confirmed that we were going to be inside. The minister was stuck in traffic. They all held their breath, worried it would make me snap.
I didn�t care. I was getting married.
The barn was slightly rearranged. The minister arrived. We walked across the street, ready to go. It was time.
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