Tag Archives: Wedding

Happy Anniversary, MQD

At the beginning of a fairy tale you might not even have met the prince yet.  If you’ve met him you definitely haven’t seen him slay a dragon.  He hasn’t slipped a glass slipper on the princess yet.  He hasn’t spun the princess around the dance floor. It is just the beginning.

Two hours after I met MQD I knew that he was funny.  Two days after I met him I knew that he was kind.  Two weeks after I met him I knew that I was smitten.  Two months in – I was head over heels in love.  And now we have been married for two years.

And it is still the beginning.  No dragons have been slain.  We haven’t danced at the ball.  Our story is still unfolding.  I love him more than I did yesterday.  I will love him even more tomorrow.  When the dragons come I will love him still more and we will face them together, hand in hand.

I love you

 

Someday, after the dragons have come and gone, when the glass slippers have lost their lustre, we will dance in the kitchen in the quiet for hours and it will be more grand than any ball.  In the meantime, we will sneak a quick kiss when we can, we will have a dance and let the dishes sit, we will raise our children in a home filled with laughter and love and kindness and joy and we will be grateful.  Because fairy tales don’t always come true.  But sometimes, sometimes they do.  And it is only the beginning.  Happy Anniversary, MQD.  I love you more every day.  My love for you has no strings attached. I love you for free.

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Balance

I love this picture, taken moments after we were married.

I don’t know if a perfect union exists.  But I know that MQD and I are pretty damn close to perfect.  We balance one another out in a million ways.  Perhaps the most poignant of these ways is in the way we express our love for one another and in turn, the way we each need to be loved.

Underneath everything I think people are who they were as a little kid.  I am a little girl that wonders if people respect me as a person and see through pretty, little Kelly.  Mike is a boy that perhaps wonders if he is more than whip-smart. We are so different, the two of us. And yet, we are the same. Each of us a person that is confident in how we are perceived in one arena, maybe not so confident in another.

In this picture I see those two little kids.  I think that quiet boy is the dreamiest boy in the class, absolutely the cutest boy I’ve ever seen.  That boy is unimpressed with my showy confidence, instead admiring a strength and smarts I did not even know I posses.

I adore him.  And he respects me.  And you can see it all over our faces in this moment.

A father who loved…

I pick. I probe. I ask questions. In my first marriage I used to ask “Are we gonna be okay?” and later learned I should have been more specific. Early on with MQD I started asking specific questions.

“If I can’t get pregnant will you resent me?”

“Do you believe it’s possible to marry, raise a family and still be in love? Do you want that with me?”

“I won’t likely make the same kind of money you will and I want to raise my children, be at home as much as I can. I struggle with feeling like that makes me your equal. Do you think it does?”

But every so often there’s a question. One I don’t let pass my lips because I already know the answer.

The other night I was listening to MQD tucking Em in to bed. They were laughing. “Good night, sweetheart. I love you,” he said.

He was walking down the stairs and a question popped in to my head. He walked behind me as I sat in the rocking chair and he paused and looked down at Lucy. I could feel him smiling.

“Do you love Emily the same way you love Lucy?” Contrary to the way it might appear to some, I do occasionally bite my tongue. I didn’t ask him.

But once I’d formulated the question I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It’s ridiculous. It was a trap. I don’t love Lucy and Emily the same. Equally, sure. But not the same. And I’d never ask him if he loved them equally. The scientist in him would immediately answer that Love is not something that can be quantified.  There was no right answer.

And really his answer doesn’t matter. It’s a silly question. And one I know the answer to in the grand scheme of things.

I tell Emily all of the time that no matter what, even if I had a hundred more kids that always and forever it would be Emily that made me a mother. It secures her a special place in my heart.

Emily made MQD a father, too. It’s easy to see a father’s love with an infant in his arms. For that matter it is easy to love an infant. But MQD grew to love a three year old. Anyone who has ever spent time with a three year old knows that they are fickle beasts.

Emily made MQD a father. One day at a time. Slowly.

She started calling him Dad the day we were married. But he became a dad long before then.

Mike, I love the way you love your girls. All three of us.

Laughter is the Best Medicine

I’ve mentioned before that I love Reader’s Digest.  I learned  an awful lot from Reader’s Digest and there are things I read there that I believe now to be gospel.  It really is “all in a day’s work,” I suppose. And in my heart of hearts I believe that laughter is the best medicine.  It’ll cure what ails you.

I love the picture above.  MQD makes me laugh each and every day and roughly 95% of the time he doesn’t even mean to.

An ordinary exchange.  Married couple is sitting on the couch watching a television show.  Wife waits until a commercial and then while the husband is fast forwarding she strikes up a conversation.

“How do you feel about wallpaper?” I asked him the other night.

“I don’t have a problem with wallpaper. I mean no one in my family was killed by wallpaper.”

Keep me laughing, Mike.  And you’ll keep me.  

Hope…

Here’s to tradition!  We ate a slice from the top of our wedding cake tonight.  I hope our marriage holds up better than a vanilla cake with cannoli filling.  But then again we should probably not put our marriage in the back of the freezer for a year.

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Brain Movies

Every morning I ask Emily how she slept the night before.   Usually she responds “Great!”  Very occasionally she looks sleepier than normal and I ask her if she had a decent night’s sleep.  She’ll scratch her head, mussing her hair and giving me a window in to the teenager she will one day become and say “I couldn’t fall asleep…” or “I woke up in the middle of the night…”

Em doesn’t suffer in silence.  Usually I am well aware of her late night wakefulness.  I paid my dues with the kid that co-slept almost full time until she was three and appeared in my bed in the wee hours of the morning almost nightly until she was four.  The first time she told me she’d awakened I was surprised.  She hadn’t come to climb in my bed, her room was as we’d left it the night before so I tentatively asked her what she did all night.  “I watched brain movies.”

At first I thought she meant dreams.  But the more we talked about it she explained that when she can’t sleep she looks at “brain movies, about my day, or about things that have never even happened….”

The other evening I was sitting on the couch with MQD and I got myself all choked up (shocking, I know.)  “We’ve been married for almost two weeks, and I remember less and less of the day, of the actual event every day.”  There are moments in your life that you think you’ll hold on to forever.  And then the days pass by and slowly the memory fades.  I may not remember the details of the day, but I will never forget how I felt.

I couldn’t sleep last night.  Woke up around three o’clock in the morning and was awake for the better part of the rest of the night.  I tried watching brain movies.  I have a lot of excellent footage from the last few weeks to choose from.   Kind of wishing I could kick back and watch some brain movies right now….

When I can’t sleep Fish doesn’t sleep, either.  He keeps me company.  Follows me from room to room.  Wondering, I am sure, what exactly we are doing awake and whether it would be appropriate to take my entire spot in the bed.

He is definitely watching brain movies right now…

Happy, I found you….

I haven’t been this happy in years.  ~ Emily June

7:30 in the morning, Monday, May 9th, 2011

I don’t know what she meant by that… in years?  She’s only 5.  But I have been 35 for almost two weeks, married now for almost three weeks, and neither have I.  A proper update is coming… but for now… just know that I am so very, very happy.

We had a delightful band at our reception, the Gravy Boys.  They have an amazing tune, Happy.  It is my hope it will be an anthem of sorts for the rest of the year.

Can’t remember life before you
And all my memories lead to you
What’ll happen if I ever lose you
Just don’t matter, ‘cause I end with you
‘Cause only you can make me

Happy, so happy
Happy, I found you

S. Celestini © 2009

Day 82: Meditation

Day 82: Sit in the lotus position for 30 minutes.
Sure.  Just as soon as I have thirty minutes. I actually did take thirty extra minutes after Bikram the other night to sit.  And just be.  It’s easier to carve out thirty minutes of time when you have already earmarked ninety.

This morning I knew I had to go to the chiropractor, remind Mike to get keys cut, sign up Emily for kindergarten after school care and then go to work.  But when I looked at my phone on the way in to the chiropractor’s office and my gmail calendar was not showing up, I flipped.  I tend to schedule things, put it on the calendar and I don’t have to feel the stress of both completing a task and remembering it.  But this week I actually have things on there like “find suitcases.”  “Charge camera battery.”  Not in lists… but on my calendar.  At certain times.  I am starting to feel the Bridal Mania and I have been choosing to sedate it with a steady diet of Budweiser and scheduling.  Both seem to set me at ease.  So, not being able to see my calendar this morning had me panicked.  I can’t exactly kick back beers at work, so I need my calendar.  If nothing pops up and tells me to do something, I’m cool.  I’m not forgetting things.

To that end I decided I needed another thirty minutes of sitting.  I rarely take a “lunch break.”  But I have promised myself I’d get in the office early and stay a bit late if need be this week, so taking thirty minutes for me seemed necessary.  And it is 80-something out today.  And not raining.   

It wasn’t on my calendar.  But I sat on the floor for thirty minutes and did my damnedest NOT to think about anything.

And then I took a quick walk outside.  Spring has sprung.  I hear Springtime is a nice time to get married.  And turn 35.  And make babies.  I am feeling pretty confident in my ability to get two of the three accomplished in the next couple of weeks.  For now, the third task is not on my calendar.  Fingers crossed that it won’t ever need to be. 


It just might be a lunatic you’re looking for…

No matter how sure I am, no matter that I know in my heart of hearts that I am doing the “right thing” there is something about having a “wedding” that is making me antsy.  It’s funny, I never felt like this when I got married before.  Although if you’d asked me to be honest, even then, if I thought we’d make it until the end of time I would have had to ask you what “make it” looks like to you.

I am so absolutely ready to marry MQD. We have grown so much together in the last two years.  Not only closer, but individually.  And I can see us continuing to challenge each other for years to come.  It is the making a decision that touches not just my life, maybe, that is making it scarier.  You don’t typically choose a parent for your child.  And I have been so lucky.  To find a boy that makes me crazy and a man that makes me sane all wrapped up in one human being.

So what is it that has me staring at the ceiling at night instead of sleeping?  Equal parts “Do I remember where I put my strapless bra?” and “Will anyone notice that my shoes are not exactly the same color as my crinoline?” and “How long do we try to get pregnant before I freak the fuck out?” I suppose.  But if I dig deep and am honest there isn’t any part of me that wonders if MQD is the “right person” for me.  But I do find it unsettling that there is no litmus test.

I never imagined I’d get married again.  And I never imagined I’d spend my days adding up numbers and arranging invoices and expenses and facts.  But what appeals to me about my job is exactly what is making me antsy about getting married.  I don’t love construction.  Or math.  But I love it when all the numbers add up.  They are right.  There is no need to argue them.  They are correct.  Period.  I love being right.

In about two weeks I will gather my friends and family and say “Hey guys! Check out this Life Plan.  I pick him.  He is “right.”  And I am “right” for him.”  But I can’t export a marriage in to Excel and double-check it.    There will be no tape from the adding machine stapled to our marriage license with my initials on it.

I have been thinking on this for a few days.  Wondering when I stopped being fearless.  Is it being a parent?  being older?  having been hurt in the past?     Have I just developed a tendency to over think things in the last decade?

And then I ran across this.  And I stopped worrying about right or wrong.

Loving the wrong person

Let our scars fall in love.
–Galway Kinnell

We’re all seeking that special person who is right for us. But if you’ve been through enough relationships, you begin to suspect there’s no right person, just different flavors of wrong. Why is this? Because you yourself are wrong in some way, and you seek out partners who are wrong in some complementary way. But it takes a lot of living to grow fully into your own wrongness. And it isn’t until you finally run up against your deepest demons, your unsolvable problems–the ones that make you truly who you are–that we’re ready to find a lifelong mate. Only then do you finally know what you’re looking for. You’re looking for the wrong person. But not just any wrong person: the right wrong person–someone you lovingly gaze upon and think, “This is the problem I want to have.”

I will find that special person who is wrong for me in just the right way.

~ Andrew Boyd

Can’t get much more wrong than this, can you?  Love you, MQD.  Thanks for putting up with me the last few weeks.

Day 77: Design your own logo!

Day 77: Design your own logo!

I am not certain I could get away with calling it as logo, but  have spent a fair amount of time in the last week manipulating an image in an effort to create a cohesive look between various parts of our wedding nonsense.  Not too long after we got engaged Mike and I worked up a design for a tattoo to celebrate our engagement. We are both really happy with the way it turned out.  I still feel like mine is “new.” It has been cold and given its location it has not really seen much daylight.  The actual tattoos might not have seen a lot of daylight, but I have seen an awful lot of the image in the last week.

After a little digital manipulating we turned our tattoos…
into both a design to use as the watermark for our invitations and a design  for use on our wedding favors.  What the design will be placed on shall remain a secret for now!  In an effort not to spoil the surprise, this is all you get for now, the basis of our “Wedding Logo.”