We are married.
And let me tell you, it is amazing.
For starters, the thing about being married is that when you wake up the next day, that person next to you? the one that's your best friend? the one who knows all your silly stories and smart-ass sayings and serious secrets? the one who you want to raise a family with and grow old with? is your husband. Or your wife. Or your partner. Or whatever label you choose to ascribe them with. They are yours.
Our wedding was a beautiful, amazing weekend of celebrating with friends and family in a truly gorgous place. Naturally there were also some hilarious moments.
Among other things, we had a fantastic wedding party that included our closest friends and siblings. On Friday night we had an amazing rehearsal dinner night where Cute Husband and I had the pleasure of toasting each of them and sharing silly stories of how we met them all.
On Saturday, despite the threat of inclement weather our Golf with the Groom and Beach with the Bride events were both a hit, though Beach with the Bride did turn into "Poolside with the Bride under Tented Cabanas with Food and Indoor Entertainment" which doesn't roll off the tongue quite the same way but was fun nonetheless.
I'm told our welcome party on Saturday night was a fantastic evening with wonderful food and a fun time to mix and mingle. I, however, was....um....otherwise occupied during the party.
Brides. Heed my advice. If you should start to feel a little, ohhhhh, under the weather at your welcome party? Like you're about to star in your own version of "Bridesmaids," and not so much the scene where they all band together and sing Wilson Philips with coordinated dance moves but more like....the scene where they're trying on dresses?
Cut and run. Don't wait to see what happens. I've seen what happens. It's not pretty.
In a moment of BLINDING CLARITY it becomes apparent that something is really, really not right here, and that it's about to become really, really wrong, and that time is right. now. and let me tell you, when that moment of brillance happens, you lose all pride and sense of polite decency and you worry about one thing and one thing only and that is GET ME TO THE BATHROOM.
I don't think I actually shoved anyone out of my way, but I was definitely on a mission.
Awesomely, at this point, approximately, oh, everyone at the party has seen me heading to the bathroom at one point or another. I didn't so much mind that, or really care who in the public bathroom got to witness the amazingly glorious site that was me hurling my guts in said white minidress.
What I cared about? Was making sure everyone knew I WAS. NOT. PREGNANT.
I'm pretty sure I advised everyone who had the guts (no pun intended) to come near me that night of that fact. Classy. Let me tell you.
Spoiler alert: I lived. My mom actually came in my room at 2 AM after Round 3, when the meds started kicking in and it became apparent I would live through the night, and said "Don't worry. Nobody really even realized you were gone. And at least this will make a funny blog post!" to which I'm pretty sure I groaned and moaned "TOO SOON." Alas, she was right. Well played, Mom.
Sunday dawned gorgeously and thankfully barf-free. Despite high winds that forced us to move off our original beach site, our wedding day was sunny and beautiful.
Our ceremony was beautifully officiated by one of my bridesmaids (and former college roommate) who is now a wondeful minister. The dress fit like a glove thanks to the couple pounds I'd miraculously shed the night before (again, see Bridesmaids reference), Cute Husband looked amazing in his suit, the flowers were gorgeous, and dolphins literally danced in the surf just outside our ceremony site.
OH YES. Top that, wedding gods. Dolphins frolicking during our vows.
The reception was absolutely amazing thanks to the hard work of John, Monica, Elise, Ben and everyone who helped us with the design and decor aspects of the day. The food was fantastic, the lounge area was thoroughly enjoyed, and the live music during our ceremony and cocktail hour were amazing.
For the dancing portion of the evening, we hadn't provided a complete playlist for the DJ. We'd simply requested that he stick to pop, Top 40-ish songs, and work in a couple slow songs that I'd provided and a couple house songs that Justin had provided. No Katy Perry, no Beyonce. Nothing against those ladies but, eh, not my favorites.
We'd also requested he avoid such *amazing* wedding hits as the Macarena, the Electric Slide, the Cha Cha Slide, and, well, basically anything with any type of universally accepted dance movement.
Easy, right? Great.
In retrospect the first Katy Perry song should have tipped us off.
Possibly also the beginning of a trio of 80s songs that no one recognized.
If not either of those things, I probably should have realized it when the strains of OH OH OH, OH OH OHHH OH OH ALL THE SINGLE LADIES! began ringing through the air, but I was in the bathroom at the time, and really, have YOU ever peed in a wedding dress? Let me tell you, that requires enough attention, thankyouverymuch.
Also hard to do in a wedding dress? The Cha Cha Slide. Oh but we did. Slide to the left! Slide to the right! Take it back now y'all! One hop this time! Two hops this time! Criss cross! Criss cross! Cha Cha now y'all!
Which was the first time - but oh, not the last - that Cute Husband caught my eye on the dance floor and mouthed "What the eff?"
However, the point of the evening during which it became blindingly apparent that we had completely lost control of the music? was me leading a conga line through the reception hall to "Jump In the Line."
I'm pretty sure the DJ just assumes that you are so ravingly drunk at this point (oh sad but true: copious upchucking the night prior leads one to spend most of their wedding night stone cold sober) that you don't actually really care what he plays, and besides, who wouldn't want to Shake! Shake! Shake! Senora! at their wedding?!?!?
Work your body line. Work it all the time.
The thing about the wedding music is, it's a party. It doesn't matter. In the end, you plan everything down to the very last detail and you know what? stuff goes wrong anyway. And nobody cares, least of all you, because what went RIGHT? is that you got married.
After a week of sunshine with family and friends, we came home and back to reality. Wife-dom has apparently triggered a new instinct in me and in the couple days we've been back, I've been cleaning up a storm, cooking homemade dinners (whatever. two dinners is a plural. Who cares how many days that's over??), and grinning like a madwoman every time I refer to Cute Husband as, well, Husband!
And THAT, right there, tells you that the best part of the whole thing? Is that now we are MARRIED.
(that, and the new Keurig.)