Wedding Woes November 9, 2009

Michelle posted recently about the constant “buzz” of wedding planning that exists in her head.

Well, girl, let me just say “WORD.”

I didn’t get it before I was engaged. I didn’t. I don’t think I could have. It’s just one of those things that you just don’t understand before you enter the tulle covered, bedazzled, tiara-ed world of The Bride. Where I once remember being puzzled over “bride diets” (because, really? why try and makeover your body for a party?) now I admit one of the biggest spurs in my side pushing me to the produce aisle and the gym is that white dress hanging in my bridal salon’s “Received” area. {Side note, my dress is in!!! Squee!! I’m making plans for a first fitting in January!!}

Before I spent my free time blogging, or reading, or learning stuff, or making “Shaba Loves Me” t-shirts for a few Very Important People. Now, if I have a few moments of free time I spend it looking at wedding porn. StyleMePretty, a Practical Wedding, The Brides Guide. I spend hours  staring at West Coast brides who always seem to have way better luck at thrift stores than I ever do. I spend hours looking for “things” for my wedding. I have lists upon lists of “things” to do,  “things” to research, “things” to try and “things” to buy. And after every tiny check I put on my ever-expanding task list I feel a little more defeated. Because it never really turns out the way I imagined.

I’m terrified that my wedding, the vision I’ve had since April and have worked on peice by peice like a little bird building a nest, will become passe before it has taken place. I’m afraid that my handiwork, my vendors, and my wedding won’t be the “wedding blog worthy” wedding I imagine it to be. I’m afraid that my non-theme theme of Stuff I’ve Always Liked That Just Happens To Be Trendy Right Now will become a snore, trendy and “So Last Season” by the time June 12th rolls around. And I know it shouldn’t matter. I know I should just do whatever the hell I want because I CAN. And it’s MY (our, really) Day Dammit. And I will. I just wish I knew it would all turn out the way it looks in my head, I wish I had an insurance policy for the beauty and fun quotient of my wedding. Dear Flo From Progressive, can we get a quote on that?

I just want it to live up to the image I have in my head.

And though I know, I KNOW it’ll be fine and wonderful and The Best Day ever because at the end of the night I’ll be married….I can’t seem to shut up the little wedding ‘zilla inside my head.

So, tell me something good.

And don’t use the word “wedding.”

 

Storms July 24, 2009

I have had one previous serious long-standing relationship before I met The Boy.
My experience disagreeing with significant others is laughable. Normally two or three disagreements have me running for the hills. I think the problem for me is I don’t have a real example of a healthy relationship, one that includes fighting and making up. Most of my family have these Fairytale Romance stories that make it incredibly difficult to hash out “Normal Healthy Relationship” qualities (I think I’ve seen two fights out of the entire extended family and they were quite tame). And, I’ve always been a little bit of a perfectionist and if my relationships fall short of my romantic comedy ambitions, I cut the cord. I say goodbye and move on because the world is full of men and I’ve never been the type to “need” a man to feel like my life is complete.

That’s what I’ve done in the past. That’s my status quo. So, obviously, when The Boy and I fight over ridiculous things like a snappy statement made at an ice cream shop (Him: Are you ready to go? Me: Why do we always move according to YOUR time line? *Grumble grumble* Him: WTF? Cue ridiculous hour long crappy-feeling fest) my mind immediately goes to We -Aren’t-Good-For-Each-Other-I-Should-Get-Out-Now-Before-We-Start-Putting-Down-Deposits Land. I start to doubt us. I get all worked up and my heart races and I feel like I’m walking through an aquarium filled with whales. I get all teary and I hate to talk through crying so I don’t say anything (which obviously doesn’t help the whole “communicating” thing) and The Boy is left shaking his head and talking me down off the ledge before I jump out of the best relationship I’ve ever been in.

Later, when we’re into the debriefing stage of our outbursts he reminds me how trivial these seemingly World-As-I-Know-It arguments are. And I know they are trivial, they’re like the five minute summer thunderstorms–heated and scary, but soon forgotten. We have a little tiff at an ice cream parlor and I’m rigging up my lifeboat. I’m ridiculous. I ask a lot of him, I make a lot of demands. I expect him to live up to the vision of him I create and a lot of the time he does. And he does it without complaining or asking much, if anything, of me. I’m a rather spoiled brat when it comes to relationships. I know nobody is perfect, so why do I demand it of my fiance? Eventually it will come back to bite me in the ass, I’ll tell him he’s not walking the right way (because I’ve over thought the fact that he’s a super fast walker and always ends up in front of me to mean that I’m somehow subordinate and, hello, I am NOT interested in following you like a puppy!) and he’ll smarten up and realize that this girl he wants to marry is a complete nut job and that he needs to run FAST, FAST AS YOU CAN*away from the crazy lady.

Every time we have a minor storm, it sucks. It throws off my balance and I hate it, but within a few hours we’re back to normal. We’re squishing each other on the couch and laughing and being ridiculously us. And, I do feel better about us. I kinda like the fact that our disagreements weigh so heavily on me. It’s much better that I care so strongly than I not care at all. The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. And while sometimes I may get so mad at him I want to scream, I’ve never once felt indifferent. When I stop to think about it, in the grand scheme of things our relationship is strong. It’s healthy. We don’t always agree. We don’t always have rainbows and butterflies, but we also never have screaming matches. We fight nice. We don’t let each other walk away. We talk it out, until we’re comfortable and we remind each other how much we care.

And I think, with each fight, we get better. We get stronger.
With each little storm we add another brick to our foundation.
So if a hurricane ever comes we’ll be ready.
We’ll be ready.

*Hi Fiona Apple fans.

525,600 Minutes June 12, 2009

A year from today I’ll be married.

It seems so unreal. For the most part I’ve settled into the “I’m engaged” feeling. Two months into our engagement and the awkwardness of the phrase “my fiance” has worn off. Now it feels warm and comfortable. I’m excited to embark on this journey, to have the same feelings or weird surrealism that fades to normalcy after we’ve been married for a few months…after we’ve been homeowners for a few months…after we’ve been parents for a few months…after all the big life changing events.

Committing your life to another person’s is hard. And living my life for the past month has made that even more obvious. It’s been difficult to see my marriage role models go through one of their most challenging times. I’m still not sure how things will play out, but for right now they’re trying to work out their issues. I questioned whether this “working on things” was being done for the right reasons. I wrongfully thought that their choice to stay together and work through their problems was the easy way out; after 26 years together it just seemed like dividing now would be more work than staying through the tough times. I was told that I was wrong. That it would be way easier to leave, to wash your hands of the situation, but that’s not what you do in a marriage.

In a marriage you promise to work at it. You promise to put up with each other even when you don’t really want to. You promise to let bygones be bygones sometimes. You promise that after the arguments and the eye rolling you’ll lie down next to each other at night. It’s a promise you make, a choice you make, every day.

A year ago today I met The Boy.

Within that year I made a series of choices. A choice to answer my phone when he called. A choice to take a chance on a long distance relationship. A choice to move our relationship into a place of seriousness. A choice to move 400 miles from my friends and family. A choice to promise to marry him.

Now that we’re engaged the choices haven’t stopped. I wake up choosing him. I go to sleep, snuggled next to him, by choice every night. I choose to apologize when I hurt his feelings, even if I think he’s over reacting. I choose him. Again. And again. And again.

A year from today I’ll marry him.
I’ll choose hundreds of details in the midst of planning our wedding. Colors, food, music, clothing, photographers, invitations. Choices and choices and choices. For someone as indecisive as me, it’s already overwhelming. But I am sure that when we write our vows, “I choose you” will be included. As will “I will choose you.” Because when you stop choosing each other the relationship begins to fade into a partnership of  habit and convenience. Choosing each other, every day, is what makes the difference.

A year ago today I met him.
A year from today I’ll marry him.

It’ll be the best choice I ever make.

Confessions: Wedding Related Edition June 11, 2009

1. I don’t understand the hub-bub about Max. That’s Max Wagner for those of you not subscribed to ten plus wedding blogs like yours truly here. Sure his photos are nice, but I’m a little weirded out by the fact that they all look like they were shot in 1970. What’s with the haze?

2. Aside from the fact that I want my bouquet to include lilacs I could care less what my flowers look like. Boring.

3. I am undecided about favors. I don’t think they’re necessary, yet I have about 5 different ideas of varying expense.

4. In the same line of thinking, I half want my bridesmaids to just pick a knee length dress in a shade of purple and leave it up to them. But I also have four different dresses picked out and bookmarked.

5. Even though I love the idea of having a table full of pie and cakes instead of one big wedding cake I think fondant covered cakes are gorgeous.

6. A year ago I was reading the blogs of brides-to-be and their diet and excersize plans in confusion. Now I’m convincing The Boy to go running with me nighly and opting for salads. I am officially a cliche.

7. I love the idea of writing my own vows, but I think I’d be super embarrassed to read them in front of other people. I write on the internet. Does this sound nonsensical to anyone else?

8. The micro-manager in me wants to buy these and do all my own printing. The lazy, “no one will remember our invitations anyway” side wants to pay a little more and have it done for me.

9. I do not want cupcakes. Period. End of story.

10.  I am beyond excited to try on dresses. I’d kinda like to go to Keinfeld, but there is no way in hell I’m buying something there.
Dear Female Friends Who Want To Go With Me,
Make me an appointment. We’ll play in Manhattan, try on dresses, do lunch, and get our nails done. We’ll be those girls. It’ll be fun.
Love, Shaba

Weekend, Brothers, and Wedding Questions April 20, 2009

This weekend was spent with The Boy and my family. My little brother made us a “Happy Engagement” cake. I spent an hour on the trampoline playing horse and attempting to teach the littlest brother how to do a back handspring. He’s now too heavy for me to spot the real way so it was a very interesting experience. I feel bad that I didn’t teach him how to do it when he was little, I spent hours on the trampoline with my oldest brother when he was little. I taught him how to do everything, front tucks, back tucks, handsprings. He was doing everything by the time he was six. I taught him a lot because there wasn’t much else to do. I was twelve. By the time the littlest one was in kindergarten I was driving and itching to be out with my friends. I have some hope though, my sixteen year old brother (who can take his drivers test on Thursday!) told me over the weekend that he wants to take the littlest one to diving practices with him this year. He said he thought it’d be cool for all three of them to practice together since their age difference won’t allow for all three of them to compete together. Sometime he surprises me with his sweetness.

The Boy* and I also received some awesome engagement gifts from my daddy. I got a hammock that I cannot wait to put up in our yard and The Boy got a bottle of whiskey, because my father is irish and whiskey is what he gives any male over the drinking age.

The weekend was almost perfect. Friday night my dinner consisted of pretzels, pepperoni, Dubliner cheddar, and Harp. Saturday we went my brother’s little league game, which is something I’ll truly miss this summer. I love love love watching my brothers compete. The littlest one is a football star and baseball standout. The middle one eats and breathes baseball, but is really doing well in diving and rifle too. And the oldest one plays football, dives and shoots and in the spring competes as a pole vaulter, which I’m sorry, is just SO COOL. It’ll be odd to not have some sort of live sport to watch on the weekends.

Sunday The Boy and I had breakfast with my folks and later got some “quick pictures we can send to the paper” done at Sears. I want to schedule a real engagement shoot for the future because I love the idea of having professional photos we could use in the wedding if we want. And I really like photo shoots.

Speaking of wedding related stuff, we’re still thinking of a date. For some reason I’ve always thought I wanted to get married in May, but there’s a date in June we’re sort of leaning towards. The June date would work better for some important family members and has a special meaning for The Boy and I, but I’ve not yet convinced myself to let go of May.

Since I spent the weekend with my parents we talked wedding quite a bit. Talking to my mother about wedding stuff tends to follow this pattern.

Shaba’s Mama: So do you know who you want in your wedding party?
Shaba: Yea, I’ve got that pretty much figured out. It’ll be (names five people including The Beautiful Woman and The Boy’s sister).
Shaba’s Mama: That’s a lot of people.
Shaba: It’s five people. Including my maid of honor.

Shaba’s Mama: I think you should just have a maid of honor and a best man. Bridesmaids are pretty useless and then you’re just making your friends buy a dress they’ll never wear again.
Shaba: Ummm.

Kids, I don’t plan on making my bridesmaids wear matching expensive dresses. Its one thing on the long list of practical wedding influenced things I plan on doing. I don’t even care if they wear a dress. A nice pant suit would be awesome. I’m just going to request that they pick something close to one of my wedding colors. Ta-da. Done.

Now, maybe it’s because I’ve never been in a wedding, but I always thought being asked to be a bridesmaid would be flattering. Especially if it didn’t involve shelling out 300 dollars for a stupid dress.

For those of you who have been in weddings, what do you think? Did you enjoy it? What do you wish the bride would have done or not done?

For those of you who are planning on getting married (soon or in the unforeseeable future) Where do you stand on bridesmaids?

Free Time and Ring Equality April 9, 2009

One of the best things about being done with my thesis is that I now have the luxury of free time. Over the weekend I watched a bad lifetime movie, made cookies and started packing up my less useful stuff for the impending move. It was glorious. In the last few days I’ve read two books and started two more. I’ve been adding new blogs to my reader, my new favorites being Hope Dies Last, PrettyHowTown, and A Cautionary Blog and I’ve been giddy with anticipation over the coming weekend. The Boy is coming and that means Things Will Be Happening. Or at least I’m 98% sure they will. He’s teasing me something awful. Last night the following text message exchange took place:

The Boy: Engagement plans developed further today. You’re totally gonna poop yourself.
Shaba: How in the world are plans still developing? Fairies? Rainbows?
A little later….
The Boy: So I got the fairies and rainbows booked. Also midgets with confetti. And aerosmith.
Shaba: I’d prefer Ani to Aerosmith.
The Boy: Who’s planning this?

Kids, this sort of shenanigan has been happening daily. It’s enough to drive an impatient, semi-control-freak girl crazy. In a good way. I’m very in the dark about what’s going on. I haven’t been able to weasel and information out of my friends and The Boy has been tightlipped, aside from the teasing. The silver lining to all this (you know, besides the big freaking I’MGETTINGENGAGEDOMG silver lining) is that I get to play an active role in this whole experience too.

I’m giving The Boy a ring. The traditional and, let’s be real here-sexist usage of the engagement ring would make me a “spoken for” female. I’ll be officially off the market, so to speak. Amazing how dating lingo diminishing people down to objects or cattle. Taken. Spoken for. Off the market. The engagement ring serves as a big sparkly warning sign to potential suitors that I am not available. I am out of stock. I “belong” to someone else. Am I the only one who shuddered at that last sentence? Right. So, the whole belonging to someone else and publicly acknowledging that idea via strategic diamond ring placement has never really seemed fair to me.

So, logically, I should be anti-engagement ring. The problem is, I’m not. I want one. I was raised with the Disney princesses and I DO want to wear a sparkly ring. I’d probably feel a little jipped if I didn’t have the quintessential female experience I’ve been brainwashed into thinking I MUST HAVE. I’m not afraid to admit that. I’ve been a women’s studies scholar for years and by now I’m able to call a spade a spade. I wear heels. I shave my legs. I engaged in sexist practices daily—but I acknowledge them for what they are. So while I do want to wear a ring, I want to do it with at least some guise of equality. I don’t think that I should be the only one spoken for during the engagement stage. Why should I be the only one with a symbol of love and intention? Why is it ok for a man to walk around seemingly single? Thankfully The Boy feels this way too. He’s excited to wear his own engagement ring and I am thrilled to bits about it. I feel that this way we’re in it together. Because really, WE will be engaged, not just me.

And I can not wait.

For those of you wondering about the housing situation we put in an application on a house yesterday. It has lilacs in the yard. I am pleased.

Surrealism April 3, 2009

On Wednesday I told my job my last day is April 30.

Yesterday I turned in my thesis.

On Saturday The Boy will look at a house I fell in love with online and *hopefully* we will be residing in it come May. It has a claw foot bathtub. And a little yard with a fence and a stonework path. And lots of delicious light and a non-working fireplace and it’s within our price range and distance range and omgsofreakingperfect! Well, The Boy would prefer it had a garage, but I think it’s perfect. I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high. He still has yet to see it, and it may not be the right home for us, but I can’t promise I won’t be disappointed if we decide to keep looking

I have never been this excited about housing before. While I perused the photos of it on the website I envisioned our life there. I thought of decorating and setting up a home with a person I intend to spend my life with. I picture hanging photos and making dinner. I pictured planning our wedding in the living room, papers strewn about the floor and laughing about how silly wedding culture is (umm, no. I do NOT want to construct 150 personalized photo books with fifty dollar paper and twenty dollar ribbon). I pictured sitting on the porch (yes, it has a porch!) drinking lemonade and arguing over which one of us is prettier (“You’re pretty,” “no, you’re pretty). I am so excited to come home to him every day. I’m excited to spend our weekends together without the dread of Sunday or Monday looming over us. I’m excited to have a routine with him, to have those things, you know? Those “we do x every Thursday” things. I welcome the miniscule, the monotonous, the comfortable. ” I am so excited to start playing house.

That’s what it feels like at this point, playing house. Everything in my life feels surreal. Graduating feels surreal. I’ve been in school for eighteen years. While I’m eager to be done with APA and syllabi and textbooks it’s really a very weird feeling to think that I’m done…at least for now. Because, hello, I’ll never really be done. I love learning too much to never walk through the halls of academia again. Next up? Maybe a language. Or a teaching certification? Graphic design? Law school? Who knows. But right now, I’m content to be done and entering the work force. Which in of itself feels weird. There are times were I still feel like I’m getting away with something when I collect my paycheck or buy alcohol. Sometimes I still feel like I’m thirteen and masquerading as a grown up.

My impending engagement feels surreal. We’ve been talking about it for a while, but the fact that it’s actually happening, that there is concrete proposal plans and a ring and the whole shebang is a surreal experience. Of course I imagined I’d be engaged/married at some point, but really, I never put a whole lot of thought into it. It existed on a fantasy plane for me, like “Someday that’ll happen and it’ll be awesome and my family and friends will be so happy and it will play out like a fairy tale” and now that it’s transitioning into reality that is very real (weird familial/friend reactions, expenses and all) it’s an odd experience. Similar to my high school graduation, it feels like something you always knew would happen, and you looked forward to it, but when you actually got there the brevity of it all shocked you. After years and years spent waiting to walk across that stage it felt dreamlike to actually do it. Even when my principal messed up my name during the ceremony. Twice.

A few nights ago my mother had me try on her wedding gown and I felt like I was playing out a scene in a movie. When I put on her veil she did the stereotypical mother of the bride thing, putting her hands to her face and sighing a soft “oh my god.” The epitome of surreal. Sharing that moment with my mom will definitely live forever in my memory. I get chills now just thinking about it.

I’ve seen the photos of her gown and truthfully I never thought I’d even want to try it. I surprised myself. I really liked the material, though not the style, and will probably have a dress made from hers. I still get to go and try on a bunch of dresses and see what style I like on me, but I’m excited to have a dress made for me from the same material my mother wore twenty-five years ago. Supporting local seamstresses and having an heirloom gown makes me unbelievably happy.

I truly am looking forward to the next few months with more optimism than I ever thought possible. I am so excited to be starting on this new adventure, and I intend to make a valiant effort of staying mindful of each passing moment. I am so in love with my life.

(Keep your fingers crossed about the house! Clawfoot tub! Light! Porch!)

Dear Men Everywhere, February 9, 2009

When your girlfriend/lover/wife/partner is admittedly feeling like her name should be Bitchy McGee there are a few key sentences you can utter that will instantly bring her back to her Glinda the Good Witch self…

1) There’s rocky road in the freezer and (Insert Ridiculous Reality Show She Loves/Favorite Movie Ever) is all set up for you, I’ll be in (insert room far away from the one she’s in) if you need me.

2) I just won 200 dollars, I don’t really need anything though, why don’t you take it and buy those shoes you’ve been looking at?

3) You go blog, I’ll do the dishes.

annnndd finally, the one that got ME out of a funk today,

“I’m going over to the shopping district to look at diamonds.”

That’ll do it.

On The Verge January 21, 2009

Those three words sum up the theme of my life right now. With the spring semester underway there are a bunch of finish lines coming into view. The winter is flying by. I can’t fathom that my rifle team is more than halfway through their season. My graduate thesis is due in eight weeks. I will cease to be a student, cease to be a NEPA resident, and cease to be within any close proximity to the only life I’ve known in a mere 16 weeks.

It’s quite a lot to think about.

Of course, there’s a myriad of things I’ve got to do before then. I have to suffer through my accounting class. I have to actually get my thesis topic approved (which is harder than it should be, because my professor doesn’t understand my preferred topic,) then research, write and defend said thesis. There are presentations to be given, grades to achieve, and let’s not forget the bills to pay.

Coming up in February there’s the spring break trip to Europe, an event that I strangely keep forgetting about even though it should be wildly exciting. Post Europe, as I wait for the mail carriers to deliver my rejection letters from Ph.D. programs, I intend to start the job search process. This is definitely a scary, intimidating undertaking for a newly minted MBA whose resume includes a single line under the “Job Experience” section. I’ve come to the decision that regardless of my Ph.D. acceptance, I want to take this next year to lengthen that section. I’m burnt out, guys, I don’t want to look at another syllabus for at least a few months.

I’ve decided that come May, I’m moving to Virginia. To be with The Boy. There, I’ve said it, officially. I’m not sure what I want to do in my career, but I know what makes me happy. As long as I can be with him, and type to you all, I truly feel I’d be content. It’s a big deal for me to admit all this. I never thought I’d be That Girl. And I never truly thought I’d get there so soon. But, right now it’s the only thing I’m sure of. I want to be with him.

So I’m on the verge of diving in. Into a new chapter, a new state, a new way of living.

But don’t worry, I plan to bring you all along for the ride.

Lust Is Easy January 12, 2009

But Love? Love is hard.

Today The Boy and I have been involved in this whirlwind relationship for the better part of a year, 7 months to be exact. It’s officially the second longest relationship of my life and with out a doubt the most challenging experience I’ve ever had. When a relationship starts out so charged with emotion the plummet that comes with the end of the honeymoon phase is hard to stomach. We’re working on it.

The biggest challenge for me in every long term relationship is doing the work. Maybe it’s because I’ve been lead to believe (by magazines and Disney films and chick lit) that love should be easy and flowy and happily ever after. What they don’t tell you is that no one can live happily ever after 100% of the time. It’s ridiculous to think that disagreements won’t occur or that a misunderstanding won’t pop up and make you crazy. It’s the way of life. Trying to live in harmony with another person, any other person, is difficult. And though I know this, my immediate reaction to any sort of “problem” is to doubt the relationship. Instead of riding out the wave like a sane individual, I start preparing for the disintegration of a relationship. And throwing around sentences like “well, maybe we’re just not meant to be” every time I feel less than elated, is probably not the healthiest way to deal with issues.

I’ve realized recently that I’ve been a little blind to my own actions. I’ve been going about my minor relationship issues in the wrong way. I’ve refused to put any effort into the relationship. I haven’t been willing to bend from my selfish, picky, fiercely independent norm. And those qualities, while serving me well in some facets of my life, are not the best character traits to parade while in a relationship.

So I’m working on quieting them. I’m working on giving a little more than I demand. I’m working on letting things roll, on keeping myself involved in the work of a relationship and a commitment instead of sitting by and letting my relationship “happen” to me. I’m sure it won’t always be easy. I’m sure it won’t always be fun. I know I’ll have to give a little more than I take and do a little more than I say, but the truth is, he makes me happier than I’ve ever been.

And if that’s not a good reason to roll up my sleeves and dig in, I don’t know what is.