Last night was our time attending a wedding with children in tow. Steve and I enjoy weddings - the free-flowing booze and dancing the night away. I mean, what's not to love? Except, of course, when I'm pregnant as I have been at the last two weddings, but that's a different story. A friend of mine from college married the love of her life yesterday and I was given a Carrie Bradshaw moment in the ceremony by doing a reading.
Weeks beforehand, I went toddler suit shopping, then found both a tie and a bowtie in a matching pattern for the boys which I had shipped from China. I bought them nice shoes they may never wear again. I bought a dress that was in the same color scheme as their shirts but not the same hue. I decided what Steve would wear. I have a tripod and I planned to take some self-timer pictures beforehand that we could use for our Christmas cards this year.
I accounted for everything, except, of course, that kids are fickle creatures. How was I to know that Brandon would have the meltdown of the century when I pulled on his pants? He lost his damn mind; tears streaming down his face, snot from his nose. I couldn't calm him down with any reasoning, so in a moment I'm not all too proud of, I let him change out of his nice clothes into his street clothes and told him I would change him back into his dressy clothes once we got to the church. No tripod self-timer photos for this family.
I expected both boys to nap in the car and was hoping they would waken refreshed and happy. But although they slept, as soon as I tried to wrangle Brandon into his pants again, the tears and the snot quickly returned. Damn it. DAMN IT! I took them into the church anyway, and learned how to turn on the mic and where to stand for my reading. Then I tried to pacify Brandon with distractions, none of which stuck. The only thing that would make him happy was changing his clothes. Steve and I left the church with the kids, literally a moment before the wedding started, deciding they would wait out the ceremony outside while mom did her reading.
The bride saw me outside and had someone quickly beckon me back inside - my reading was right at the beginning. So I did my reading, and had my Carrie Bradshaw moment, but just like Carrie Bradshaw, my man wasn't there to hear me. My reading was terrible; my voice was shaky. It was definitely amateur hour. As soon as I finished, I exited and found my kids in the car - Brandon back in his street clothes playing on dad's phone, those never-ending sniffles miraculously ended.
I now know not to plan on plans. I have no pictures for our Christmas cards. Holden stuck his finger down his throat and puked onto his suspenders, bow tie, and dress shirt at the reception. But although situations aren't always ideal, I have my kiddos to make them memorable. Plans are boring. Spontaneity - now that is exciting. And as frustrating as they can be, it's true what they say - my kids keep me on my toes. I won't say they keep me young though, because they are definitely making me old, very, very quickly.