when i was a kid, i used to count down to big events in my life—birthdays, holidays, opening nights. everything always seemed so damn far away and counting down reassured me that time was indeed passing, that The Day I Couldn't Wait For was surely approaching—the calendar said so.
i'm old enough now to be appropriately and completely terrified at how quickly time actually passes, that months feel like weeks, weeks feel like days and days, well, they're just made of hours which are hardly worth counting because they zip by before you can even remember if it's Tuesday or Wednesday.
but theknot.com refuses to stop counting down the days 'til our wedding and so every time i log in to see how far behind i am with my to-do list, i'm reminded in big numbers and letters right there at the top of the page just how few days are left until i become a wife. and while i'm excited to become a wife, ever since we passed the 100-days-to-go milestone (approximately 42 days ago) i have felt a low-grade panic at the ever-shrinking number. and i keep thinking, if i was a kid, i'd be loving this. as an adult with only 60 out of 140 wedding invitations assembled and many miles to go before i put on the veil, i find this countdown slightly distressing.
but...
the wedding stuff is not all bad.
for instance, i had my bridal shower last saturday. it wasn't a surprise—my mother didn't think she could pull it off (i'm a bit of a snooper) and also, she wanted to make sure she threw me the kind of shower i wanted, which required getting my input about certain things along the way. (or, more realistically, being forced to listen as i opined about several shower-related topics on a regular basis. shut up—i am not a control freak!)
i knew i wanted a shower at home. i've been to many showers in my lifetime and the ones held in someone's home always felt more special to me—more like how it should be. rehearsal dinners and weddings are always in big places with buffets or meals served to you by a wait staff. the shower seems like a perfect opportunity to tone it down a little, make things a little cozier. (and, when "home" means my parents' place, it's hard to find a better location.)
so that was the decision: a poolside shower at home. not that my parents and i were without our doubts and worries. for instance, what if it rained? the invite list topped out at around 50. my dad had the beginnings of a nervous breakdown imagining having 50 women in the house at once with not enough places to sit.
but the universe smiled on us on saturday. the weather could not have been more beautiful. michael and i drove from brooklyn that morning with kate, my maid-of-honor, in the back seat. my mom wanted me to make an entrance, despite the fact that it wasn't a surprise, so we dropped off kate a half hour before the official start of the shower and then drove off to kill some time.
we meandered around Barnes & Noble, walked up and down the aisles of Target and then stopped at Starbucks and still i had not gotten the call from my mom to come back. all kinds of scenarios flew through my head. collapsed tent? missing food? some kind of Brothers & Sisters-type family drama playing out? but finally my cell rang and my dad said it was time.
"everything OK?" i asked him.
"it's a mob scene," he said in a somewhat frazzled voice.
"but everything's OK?" i asked again.
"yeah, i just wanna get outta here!"
(typical man.)
he then added that the guests were totally digging the sangria he'd whipped up. i'd made the suggestion to serve sangria in one of the old-fashioned glass spigot jugs my mother had purchased just for the shower. on Friday he'd asked me to send him a recipe and i'd forwarded him one from Martha Stewart. he seemed proud that the response was so overwhelming.
"make sure you save some for me!" i told him.
"well, hurry up and get here."
it took us about eight minutes to get from Starbucks to my parents' and i kept thinking how it didn't feel like i was going to my shower. it was hard for me to believe it was actually happening. i was excited and overwhelmed and anxious.
my mom, god bless her, was standing out in the driveway (barefoot already) when we pulled up. she waved at us with a big smile on her face, which put me at ease in an instant. i gave her a big hug and we made our way around back and—everything was perfect.
the backyard was dressed up and elegant yet still homey. and—the coolest part—filled with everyone i love. my bridesmaids were standing near the entrance as i walked up and hooted and hollered and did a little seven-person wave to welcome me.
i'm not sure how long it took me to say hello to everyone who was there, but it was truly awesome to see so many familiar faces, from all parts of my life—friends, family, future in-laws, former neighbors, even my kindergarten teacher was there.
there were games (hilarious, ingenious, highly-competitive ones) and great food (have you had my mom's gazpacho?) and a ridiculous amount of presents (i love you All-Clad pots and pans!). the entire event was a whirlwind during which i felt 1) outside of myself; 2) incredibly blessed and loved; and 3) drunk.
yes, drunk. after greeting everyone and choking back the sobs that threatened to break when i saw that my gram had sent me flowers with the loveliest note, i made a beeline for my dad's sangria. one small-ish plastic cup in, i was really feeling it.
lightweight? me? never!
my dad discovered, the next day, that he had neglected to add important ingredients to the sangria. there was a mixup with the food—half the order was not prepared and ready to be picked up when it should have been—and that threw a wrench into my parents iron-clad preparation plan. the sangria was apparently slapped together just as guests were beginning to arrive and my dad was, understandably, distracted.
so what did he manage to pour into the big glass jug? a few bottles of wine. cognac. and sugar.
yep, that's it. it's a miracle none of the guests wound up in the pool.
but this is why i wanted a shower at home. these are funny, personal memories i'll have forever. it was a perfect day and not once during the whole event did i think about how many days were left or how many things i still have to do. which might be the best gift of all—or at least a close second to my shiny new Kitchen-Aid Stand Mixer.
mb
1 comments:
Brilliant!
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