Its wedding weekend

So here we are. Wednesday. 4 days before the wedding. My status is as follows:

Changed my hairstyle today, panicking about my face looking too round with it all up.

My dress top was taken in by the seamstress, bra cups added, then taken out, bra cups removed. Panic. Need the cups. Thankfully we know a master seamstress who is willing to help. 

The hose I bought are black. Have to buy new ones. 

My son is teething and hadn’t slept all day. My mom finally got him down for a nap. At 6:10.

Andrew’s truck was rendered immobile this morning. Took him to work, called a mechanic. His mom saved the day with a new plan so we weren’t a one vehicle family over the weekend.

My appointment to get my lashes was rescheduled because my poor aesthetician had a family emergency and had to run home.

Andrew’s third groomsman is unable to come because his wife is having a baby. His awesome cousin is coming in clutch. 

I have tomorrow to pick up everything we need, meet with the DJ, and get everything in one spot to make sure we don’t forget anything.  

I wonder what will happen tomorrow. 

Talk about perspective

Saturday night I was supposed to have my bachelorette party, laugh and enjoy delicious food with my closest friends before my wedding this upcoming weekend. Andrew was going to go to watch the game with his guys.  We were going to put wedding favors together on Sunday. It was going to be a pleasant, fun, laid back weekend. 

Saturday afternoon Carson was admitted to Children’s Hospital. His hands and feet were swollen, blue and cold, and his body was hot. Andrew called 911 without hesitation. Thankfully we had two friends at the house who helped us think when we couldn’t. 

For two days we passed him around in the hospital room. We had brief moments where he was somewhat himself, but mostly he fussed and slept. He spiked another fever early Sunday morning. His heart rate was through the roof. He cried. We cried. I thought I knew fear. Turns out everything I thought was fear before paled in comparison to the fear for my child. 

Thankfully he’s ok. We were discharged today. He played, laughed, giggled, ate, had bath time, and is now sleeping soundly in his own crib. I’m not sure how the night will go. We aren’t sure what happened. Probably a virus, the doctor said. Maybe a food allergy, so we go see a specialist in October. 

A lot of things became clear to me this weekend. So many people reached out and offered words of kindness and love. Prayers. Actions. I couldn’t believe the amount of people who offered to bring us food, go to our house and take care of the cats, help with wedding stuff, it was completely overwhelming. It meant so much to us to know our support net is wide and strong. 

So thankful today for a healthy happy baby in his room across the hall. For our bed. Our cats. For faith over fear. For our parents who helped us all weekend. Our friends and family. The staff at Children’s. For delivery pizza and hot tea. And for perspective.

Baby Withdrawal

So I’m headed out of town this weekend, and I won’t see Carson or Andrew from Friday night through Sunday afternoon. No big deal. It’s just two half days and one full day. Except that it’s the first time I’ll be away from them both for that long and I’m a liiiiiiittle worried. Not about Andrew’s ability to parent, or Carson’s ability to live without me. They’ll be fine.

I, on the other hand, will have some portion of my mind always wandering towards home, wondering what they’re doing, how he’s sleeping, if Andrew is overwhelmed, how did Carson do with food, and on and on.

I think it’s to be expected. Right? Totally normal for a mom to be preoccupied with her family the first time she’s away from home. Right? RIGHT?!

Look at that face. How could you NOT miss that adorable face?!

I know it’ll be great. I’ll be with people I love who I adore spending time with. It will recharge my batteries. Refill my cup. However you want to say it, I should come back rejuvenated.

I just hope I don’t rip the door off when I get home on Sunday. I’m no Hulk, but I have slammed a door open so hard I shattered the lights in the hallway, so ya know. It’s possible.

(It’s really not)

 

Small talk, amirite?

You know what I’m terrible at? Small talk.

No really.

If you know me, I don’t shut up. I get that. You’re welcome. Also I’m sorry. Kind of.

But at work, man I am so bad at making small talk with people. Especially that long stretch down the hallway where someone is coming the other way but is so far down that I struggle with whether or not to lock eyes way early and stare them down until we pass and awkwardly smile and perhaps say hello, or keep my eyes on the ground until I hit the stairwell, or just look straight forward and pretend that their existence doesn’t even blip my radar.

Then, perhaps I do engage in small talk, I am always concerned about dominating the conversation. Do I talk to much? Do they even care about what I’m talking about? Is what I’m tlaking about even remotely on topic? Do I have food in my teeth?

Today I know that most of the time this is just self-centeredness run wild, with a bit of anxiety for flavor. And most of the time I can push those voices aside and just try to enjoy the moment. I, like many people I know, make overthinking an art form. I have to remember that no one thinks about me as much as I think they think about me. Then I can relax and just be.

Stop Telling Me That ‘Breast Is Best’

Source: Stop Telling Me That ‘Breast Is Best’

I wrote this first on 30ontap.com and wanted to share it here, since I have been talking about a breastfeeding post since I began this whole deal, and this was the perfect opportunity to share.

23 days. Just 23 days.

So about this whole wedding thing. I mean, I know it is going to be a beautiful day, and the details don’t really matter, because in the end people are going to remember the big things. I also know that everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.

I also know I’m a hot mess.

I am losing hair! I’m having bad dreams! Dreams where I am not put together and the wedding ceremony is starting. The music is playing and I’m nearby with wet hair and sweats on, asking if we can push it back two hours just so I can finish getting ready. With no stylist. Dreams where the venue doesn’t have any record of us renting it out, and all our guests show up with nowhere to go and we get married in the parking lot.

I was not prepared for this.

I *knew* having a planner would be such a huge help. Then we had to fire her. Because she was not helpful. At all. Things progressively got worse the closer we got to the date, and finally we called it quits. Which meant that it was up to us to pick up the pieces she failed to put together and make sure everything is taken care of. Which, actually, I’m ok with. The control freak in me is happy to know what vendor is doing what when, what time they’ll be there, etc.

We (well, frankly my parents) have bought a lot of the decorations and signs for the wedding, which are currently being stored in our living room and my craft room (which is mostly a room with a table and a desk in it, and boxes lining the perimeter). Andrew and I will be driving down separately Friday to have enough room to haul all of the decorations, plus all of the baby things we need, plus all of OUR things we need. Friday night, the decorators will put everything up. We just need to unload all the decor we have at the barns when we arrive in Nebraska City.

Here’s where I have issue. I’m going to want to set everything up.

Well maybe not everything. But the memorial table, and the easel with the sign (which probably shouldn’t be put up until Saturday anyway) and the table to hold the programs and the sign to indicate seating (Oh yeah, how is that going to be held up? Does anyone have a barrel?) and the banners above our heads, and the table numbers for our 4 honored guest tables, plus all the cards for each setting, I mean I may as well just do all that right? Then the decorators don’t have to and I will know for certain that it’s done.

Oh and speaking of that, I cannot find the stands that were purchased to hold the numbers and reserved signs on the tables. I’m also missing something else, which I’ve forgotten at the moment but have written down at home. Not to mention shoes.

I need to create a timeline for Shelly, my awesome friend who is willing to work with vendors on Saturday. I need to print the script for the officiant, and the readings for the readers. Well duh. I need to make lists of lists. It’s insane. All those checklists online are helpful to a degree, but when information is scattered in at least 4 places (physical and electronic) it is difficult to feel any sense of relief at having checked something off the list.

I absolutely cannot wait for this day to come – we are going to have so much fun. I know that. I am so excited to celebrate our relationship with the people we care about.

I am also excited to be done with all of the planning. I think if this were my full time gig, I’d love it. It has been fun to find things that all kind of go together and make this day a fun representation of Andrew and I, separately and together. I am thankful for all of the time, love and financial support my parents have given me in making this day something beautiful. I’m grateful for all the support both our sets of parents have provided us in taking care of the kiddo so we can keep our commitments, whether related to the wedding or elsewhere. There is no question that we are fortunate for the lives we live today, and the people who choose to participate with us.

I’m just ready for life to slow down a little.

Shoe size? Really?

Here we are. September 5, 2017, a mere 25 days before our wedding. I had today off, enjoyed a morning with the kiddo and hauled him to daycare to get some things done. You see, we had to fire our planner about 2 weeks ago. Right at that crucial point when a planner would’ve been most helpful. But that’s another post for another time. She has nothing to do with my shoe size. But pregnancy does. 

Stick with me here, this will all come together in the end. 

I had Carson in March. I basically lived in my home for the first three months thanks to a fabulous maternity leave plan at my work and a lot of support from friends and family. When I would leave I would wear flip-flops so I remain blissfully unaware of the impending shoe crisis I was about to encounter. Once I headed back to work I was shocked to find out that all of my flats felt tight. I’ve been an eight and a half for about a decade pretty consistently. I could buy shoes online with no concern about whether or not they would fit. Now there will be no online shoe shopping. Even in store shoe shopping is a nightmare because a size 9 is usually too big and a size eight and a half makes me want to cut off the ends of my toes. 

And that’s how I found out that pregnancy could cause your feet to grow. Who knew?
My mom and I made a trip to David’s Bridal to find the third pair of shoes that I would wear for my wedding. Scratch that, 4th pair. I tried on a 9 which were excessively large so we figured an eight and a half would fit just fine. I even tried on the same here in a different color in an eight and a half and was confident.

Fast forward to today when I excitedly picked up my shoes on my day off, feeling very accomplished at haven’t gotten so much done before lunch time. Packing things up for each person in my party, I was packing a bag for myself and decided I should probably throw the shoes on just to be safe.

I could barely squeeze my feet into them.

If I can’t find a pair of shoes quickly, I may be getting married in the flip flops that I bought to get ready in. Which would be fine, except at September and we’re getting married outside.

I know what I’m doing this weekend. Shopping. In-store shopping. One of my least favorite things to do ever.

Of all the things to buy for my wedding shoes were the last thing on my mind that I thought would be so difficult.

Wish me luck.