10.14.2008

Wedding Day

One of Helen's daycare teachers and sometime babysitter got married, and invited us to the wedding.   Brian had to attend a football cookout at his boss's house, so it was just us.   A girls' night out! 

Okay, so not really.  And you might ask what would possess a woman with a 3-year old and a 2-month old to pack up the kids and drive 45 minutes across town to a wedding that takes place an hour before dinner time.

You can ask. You won't get a response that makes any sense, other than "I hadn't worn my favorite little black dress in a *really* long time, okay?"

I spent the day thinking about timing and what I would need while I was away from the house.  When you nurse a baby, everything you do in a day comes down to a simple equation:  

Travel time (A) + last feeding time (B) = when is the next feeding? (C)  
where A = 45 and B = ...

oh, screw it, we all know C = NOW

So traveling that far with a baby who could be hungry upon arrival meant "BE PREPARED" or possibly "DANGER WILL ROBINSON."  Factoring in Helen's naptime prior to leaving and preparing everyone to get out of the house in wedding finery - well, I'm sure it didn't take this much work to get to troops to Iraq. 

The wedding itself was picture perfect. The bridesmaids were dressed in black satin strapless sheaths, with a fushia sash around their waists. They carried gorgeous white rose bouquets, and all of them looked like a million bucks. The bride wore a bright white strapless dress with plenty of tulle and sparkling sequins, and carried a bright pink bouquet of roses. The groom and his groomsmen wore black suits with black shirts. The groom's tie was white, and the groomsmen wore fuschia ties. Sort of a late 70's mafia look, which I'll admit is difficult for guys from the deep South to pull off with any degree of success.

The bride had not been over to babysit for us in quite some time, but Helen remembered her right away. She was the model child during the wedding - finding a pencil and something to write on, she busied herself with scribbling a few things for me. Fortunately, Alice took a short nap with a good pacifier, so we didn't have a single squawk out of either of them. And it was one of those quick Protestant ceremonies - no sermon, even - so we were out in about 12 minutes.

I should have known that would be the easy part.

The reception was at a nearby country club, which had a back patio set up on a hillside that overlooked a gorgeous mountain scene. The sun was about an 30 minutes away from setting when I got this great picture of Helen.


Shortly after this was taken, Alice decided to scream in agony about gas pains for nearly 30 minutes. This has happened before, and there's nothing I can do except give her a little bit of gas medicine and pat her back. Eventually she burps, but it can take a while. I felt horrible after about 2 minutes on the patio with all the wedding guests trying to enjoy the gorgeous view, and here was a screaming baby out there with them, so we ended up in the parking lot, with me in the car trying to soothe her and Helen running around picking flowers. I was inches away from giving up and going home when Alice finally burped. So we settled down, and I gave her a little dinner bottle, and that's when the bride & groom pulled up in their getaway vehicle.


Oh, how I wanted to get in behind the driver's seat and take off.  

Helen was all about the dancing at the reception. In fact, she was the only one who danced most of the evening. She also spent quite a bit of time chatting up the DJ.  I believe at one point she mentioned that her daddy knows all of the songs to the Lion King.  To his credit, he was the soul of patience and acted interested in everything she wanted to tell him.  He did, however, ask me to let him know when I was ready for the Chicken Dance.  I'm not sure if that was an insult or if he was serious, but I told him that I would NEVER be ready for the Chicken Dance.  Hopefully he got the message and sent it to other wedding DJs.  I'm here for you, people.  

Here, Helen shakes her groove thang.



I don't know where they got their cake, but it was amazing. Very heavy and moist.  Here, Helen contemplates the mystery of delicious, sugary frosting.


I didn't get any pictures of me in that little black dress, though.  Probably a good thing.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

The pic of Helen dancing is really pretty. A beautiful dress on a beautiful girl.

ElastiGirl said...

you truly are Wonder Woman incarnate!!