My tomato plants are hanging upside down, as is most of my household. We are in those frantic last few days before my oldest daughter’s wedding. Two households are in some sort of wedding induced chaos; the bride’s household and the groom’s.
As I packed some magazines that were going to my daughter’s new home, I spotted “Brides” magazine on the top of the pile.
On the cover was a smiling, perfectly coiffed bride (of course) holding a perfectly fresh bouquet of perfectly arranged flowers. (She wasn’t even sweating,not one perfect glisten.)
I wondered if the paper doll bride had just:
Moved all her belongings into her new place one week before the wedding because her parents air conditioner just broke.
Spent the majority of that week living with her future in-laws due to said lack of air conditioning.
Watched as her future in-laws battled ripping up their kitchen flooring due to a water leak, and trying to replace the flooring before a wave of out-of-town relatives descended upon them.
I would have to go with answer: A. I bet not.
But then again I would also wager the paper doll bride had never experienced growing up within a few streets of the guy she dated and would later marry. I doubt if she knew what it was like to have that boy of years ago, nervous and sweet, hand her a cardboard package that he ordered “Just because he is my friend Mom.” Which, when opened contained a proclamation that “The International Star Registry doth hereby re designate star number Andromeda RA 23h 15m 31s D 36′ 9′ to the name Stacy’s Starlight.”
Paper doll brides never get to find out that there is a sweetness to overcoming adversity; that the most appreciated things in life sometimes are the most difficult to achieve. That when it is all said and done, married is married. Whether the ceremony goes flawlessly or not; at the end of the evening it will only be the two of them; gazing at the stars together as husband and wife.
That lasagna from last night’s dinner is sitting like a rock in my stomach right now, but that’s not the only thing keeping me awake. Within thirteen months my husband and I will have had weddings for two of our three daughters, and the third will be graduating high school.
Talk about lifestyle change.
I’m not ready for them to leave.
“Well, yeah, what did you think would happen when they grew up?” You ask.
But that’s just it, I never saw it coming. It was like that nice, comforting plate of steaming lasagna. I enjoyed every bit of it, until it came to an end. Now I’m left with dirty dishes and a need for Pepto Bismol.
How I wish we could hold on to them. “That’s not the real world.” You say.
Well fine, let me have a bit of fantasy, OK?
Let me hold on to their little sticky hands a bit longer.
Let me braid their hair one more time, and separate them when they are fighting over who gets the pretty Barbie and who has to play with the one their baby sister decided to give a haircut.
Let me read them Richard Scarry’s books at bedtime, and make all the funny noises and see them giggle with delight.