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Engagement Photos! (319 Days to Go)

Just a quick little post.  Things have been so crazy lately.  But I had to share.  We just got our engagement photo proofs today!

Matthew Hovis Photography

Right behind us is the tree that Jeff's parents planted right before leaving for their honeymoon when they got married.  The pictures turned out great.  And hopefully I'll be able to post some more soon, but in the meantime, this is all I've got time for.

Bridesmaids (344 Days to Go)

So I'm currently attempting to try and gather a majority of my bridesmaids together for a bridesmaid luncheon and to go shopping for dresses.  Yes, it's early.  But some of them are students, currently unemployed, etc. etc. such that I figure if we go now, then there's time to sit back, stash up the cash, wait for a sale, and all of that good stuff.  But by going and picking a dress now, I can end a few more annoying conversations and scratch one more thing off my list as far as stress inducers.

Sometimes I feel as much as I try to be cooperative and easy going on the girls, the harder things become on me because Jeff and I's mothers are old-fashioned about how the bridesmaids should be dressed.  Back in the 80s when they were getting wed, bridesmaids wore heinous, matchy-matchy dresses.  Now, today the trend is leaning much more towards the bridesmaids wearing whatever style best suits them in a general colorway.  But because we have a rainbow bridal party, I have more pressure being put on me to force them all into the same style dress.  Essentially, if I don't, I can look forward to a minimum of five years of complaining everytime the wedding pictures are looked at.  

Compound into that, both of our mothers feel that the Mothers' dresses are just too "matronly" and "old" for them.  Certainly at fifty they aren't so old that they can't wear something from the bridesmaid dress rack, right?  I guess they're trying to cope with the fact that they're old enough to have children getting married in their own way.  So, if I let the bridesmaids pick what they want, and being all different colors, I'm going to end up with the mothers and maids blending together with nothing but a few wrinkles to tell the difference.  And why yes, I've made a relatively obvious suggestion that the mothers wear a patterned dress and the maids were solids.  Nada in the cooperation department.  This is when I start wanting to bang my head on my desk, which is metal by the way.  And yes, they're insisting on wearing the same material too.  These are stubborn women, I tell you.  Nothing can ever persuade them to get off a subject until it's too late to have much more effect, but then you can still look forward to some disheartened griping that they were ignored in the decision making process.  Toss into the mix, the junior bridesmaid (aka mini bridezilla, aka MBZ) who wants to wear my wedding gown and have a date to walk her down the aisle and I've got one heck of a pot boiling over.  And seriously, it's all over what people are going to wear?  I suddenly understand the appeal of the nudist wedding.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to dictate the fashion choices of my mom and FMIL, however, I don't appreciate that they're dictating the fashion of my bridesmaids.  I mean seriously, when does that ever go well?  Because all it does is then complicate the issue of making them happy all the more.  And boy, do I get tired of hearing and phrase that starts with the word "Just".  "Just" is someone's way of making things sound easy.  As in "Just do it", "Just say no", etc., etc.  Or my personal favorite: "That just doesn't make sense."  Please, if the word "just" ever comes out of my mouth, slap me silly.  I deserve it.



Henkaa
Convertible Dresses



But I did come up with a third option that will set my girls apart, let them be individuals, make them identical for the ceremony and pictures and silence the mothers.  Now, if I can only get the girls to go along with it.  It's convertible dresses.  I figure, they agree on one of fifty some styles for the ceremony and pictures, and when we duck away somewhere to bustle my train before entering the reception, they can reconfigure their dress into any style they want.  That way they get to feel like they got to completely change dresses between ceremony and reception.  It's a win-win...at least for me.  I just hope the girls will see it that way too.

I ordered one of the dresses for myself to wear as a bridesmaid in Becca's wedding.  They're supposed to be one size fits most, so I figure the girls can play with mine and see if they like it when we get together later this month.  I'm crossing my fingers.  I really need to start nailing down details and therefore nailing problems to the wall.

Engagement Photos Today--Eep! (348 Days to Go)

The day of the engagement photos has arrived.  I even somehow managed to miraculously convince Jeff to pull together his clothes, hats, and shoes to wear for our pictures.  Well, I'm close on the shoes, at least.  He's told me he's wearing his Berks and red Chucks.  Will the miracles never cease?

So why do I feel like I'm about to toss my single cookie that I called breakfast this morning?

Could it be that I have three and a half hours from the time I get off work to get hair and make up done, pick up dinner, eat with my fiance, drag him out of his workplace an hour before the shop closes without having to commit patricide in the midst?  Oh, and the manicure I gave myself last night: well, I apparently managed to rub the french tips off in my sleep.  Go me.  So I think I'm now going to also try to squeeze a mani into the picture somehow too.

Or is it merely a delayed reaction to the realization that I'm going to have to hire a private detective to find my father and get him to my wedding next year?

I'd like to think that I'm not really nervous about getting pictures taken of myself.  I mean, I thought I was excited about it because I'm so often the one stuck behind the camera that there are so very few pictures of me, let alone of both Jeff and I together.  Actually, pictures of me are such a rarity, that baby picture are even hard to come by.  Childhood are actually near impossible.  Apparently photographic documentation was not my family's strong suit. 

Perhaps it's just an absurdly strong urge to make sure they're perfect.  I will admit I've been a mite OCD on that.  But his family's huge, and I haven't met even the smallest fraction that his parents insist on inviting.  Therefore, these pictures will quite literally be my first and only impression on these people before and if they come to the wedding.  As I told Jeff, I'd prefer that his family be under the impression that he scored a hot, city girl rather than a frumpy, country girl.  Why let it ever enter their minds that he might be settling (as opposed to settling down), right? 

And the same goes for my family.  The opportunities for Jeff to meet anyone on my side of the family has been few and far between.  I want him to look good too.  Growing up, I was the girl who never dated, so I'd hate for my family to think that I settled for the first guy that gave me a second look.  My family's bizarre and there's already been muffled discussion that I must have gotten knocked up or something.  I feel this might stem from the fact that I came from a small town with too little to talk about and that there was a mistaken rumor before I'd even met Jeff that I was having twins.  Long story, but the short version is, a friend of my mom's was knitting baby sweaters for twins.  I want them to be able to see him the way that I do--as the fun, incredible, handsome, funny guy that he is.  I want them to see how incredibly lucky I am to have found Mr. Right and My Best Friend after having gone through only one Mr. Oh-So-Very-Wrong.

But then I'm back to the whole missing father incident too.   My father is a nervous fella.  Probably why he ended up becoming an alcoholic.  He's always had problems with his parents and hasn't had very much luck with marriage either.  But, he has a bad habit of when he feels pressured of managing a disappearing act that would make the CIA jealous.  Now, for the past two or so years, he's been dry.  I've been proud.  Everyone else has been harassing him for money (ex-wife #1: my mom), to move his vehicles off their property (ex-wife #2), and to go to rehab (his parents).  The last time he disappeared, he turned up in California with my eldest ex-stepbrother.  Impressive considering he was under probation in the state of Maryland for DUI.  This time, nobody knows where he's gone to. 

You might think that I'm making excuses for him.  I'm not really.  I'm peeved that he's pulled this disappearing act again.  All I wanted was to let him know when and where to be for our father-daughter dance.  But I also feel bad for him too.  I feel sorry that his instinct is to shut himself away from everyone instead of reaching out instead.  I guess he just doesn't know how or doesn't realize that anyone's willing to listen without asking for anything in return.  And I guess I have just enough daddy issues that I'm willing to be that one person.  But I really for sorry if I'm the only person who is willing.  For a bunch of people who consider themselves good Christians, it's a shame none of them know how to listen.