I Thee Wed . . . Part 2

 

The guests were seated, waiting for the show to begin. As we waited for our cue, Hunny and I turned to each other, both of us realizing that the kids had never practiced their entrances. Elroy led the way, standing where the two aisles converged, waiting to walk both his mothers to the altar. 

 

As the first sets of bridesmaids started walking, the younger kids (Bam-Bam walked with Peach.  Raspberry carried a second ring pillow and walked with Strawberry) forgot their last minute instructions. Alani and Adoree quickly stepped in and each walked with one set. We didn’t want to budget extra for real rose petals (all our flowers were artificial. The venue wouldn’t allow any fake flowers where they might get blown onto the green) so Peach and Strawberry carried baskets with arrangements instead of scattering petals.

 

Finally, it was our turn. Hunny and I walked down the short set of stairs to the grass before separating to each walk down our own aisle. We chose to walk alone (Hunny’s dad is not in her life, my dad wasn’t able to attend, and we’re both adults who choose to give ourselves to each other), meeting together to walk arm in arm with our oldest child for those last few steps.

 

I looked in her eyes as our friend told the story of how our love came to exemplify what is most important. Elroy bound our hands in a handfasting ceremony, tying the cord decorated with pictures of our children,

tokens of the family we had created together.

 

 

Hunny had tears in her eyes while I spoke the vows I had written.

 

And the summer sun was not the only reason my eyeliner ran down

my cheek while she spoke hers. 



 

We exchanged rings, smiling as we repeated our ‘with this ring’s. 

 

And then came the kiss.

 

I dipped her (like in the movies) . . .  Away from the audience.

(In fairness, that was the direction I usually dip her, and I got too swept up in the moment to make sure our friends and family could see us).

 

We walked back triumphantly through the crowd (many of whom forgot to use the bubbles we had provided), and burst into tears in each other’s arms once we got past the last row of chairs.

 

 

 The guests headed inside to enjoy the appetizers and ambiance while we took pictures. Our photographer even managed to get the

picture for our Christmas card this year.

 

 

All photos were taken by our fantastic Photographer Jaymee Lynn.

Here is her website or you can contact her on Facebook.



I thee wed (part one)

So we had our big day.

 

 A year of planning, thousands of dollars invested, headaches and heartaches along the way, drama from family and vendors . . .

 

And when it looked like it would be a disaster,

everything came together into the most amazingly perfect day.

 

 We won’t get the official photos back for about a month (because our photographer is a professional, and my eye liner ran down one cheek so she’ll have to fix every picture) but I couldn’t leave everybody waiting that long.

 

I promise I will share my favorites once I get them.

For now we only have the pictures our friends and family have shared with us.

 

 The big day started with mani – pedis at a crazy busy local nail art salon.

I chose sparkly French tips with crystals for the occasion . . . and not a single picture of them turned out. You’ll just have to wait for the official ones to see them, I guess.

Hunny went a bit bigger with 3D roses and dark purple crystals

to accent her French tips . . .

One of Hunny’s bridesmaids, Dashie, (who we had worried wouldn’t be able to make it) was able to get off work early, met us for lunch (because it was 11:30 by the time our toes were done). She totally came through for us at the last minute.

 After lunch she helped us get our stuff to the hotel, hung out (and kept the mood light) while we got our hair done in our room, followed our taxi

with the stuff we had to bring to the venue.

Dashie was a superstar and totally helped keep things going more smoothly

(and she rocked her purple dress).

 

My sister’s medical procedure ended up being too difficult and painful for her to join us. While we missed her greatly there was no way she could have participated

(in fact, pain killers and sleep were really all she could manage afterward).

 

Once we got to the venue, we had a chance to enjoy all the sweet, thoughtful touches the staff had for us. Hunny’s niece, CareBear, did our makeup (and did great, we were the ones who forgot the waterproof eyeliner). The A/C unit had gone out for the building (including the reception hall), so the staff had ordered

portable industrial units to keep everybody from melting.

 

Adoree and Alani arrived with our children in tow (and got them ready for us while CareBear did our makeup).  Both of our dresses had corset backs, plus we both had amazing corsets on underneath. There was much lacing
(with Dashie the only one who knew how to tighten the corsets),

and neither dress ended up tight enough (we kept pulling the backs up all night).

 

But when it was time to walk  . . . everything was perfect.

Because I was walking to meet Her.

 

 

 

 

(Update on my missing brother: It has been over 3 weeks since he disappeared. Search and Rescue did an exhausting and very thorough, search and other than a few early leads has come up with nothing substantial. It appears that he made his way out of the forest, but that just means he could be anywhere. Here's the post that has all the links for the search.) 

“They’re called Boobs, Ed.”

For all that this will likely be a tongue in cheek piece with snarky asides and some amusing visual aides; this is not an easy post to write. Most of the time I am at peace with my body. I can see it through the loving, lustful eyes of my wife. I remember the feats it preformed growing and feeding our children. I am confident in my ability to take care of business physically. I am the opener of stuck jars, the one who gets the tire iron moving, the primary mover for children, furniture and groceries.  My body is strong; it is powerful and capable of amazing things. And then I put on a bathing suit . . .

Let me start by saying: I am busty. Well Endowed. I have large tracts of land. (The last time I tried to get fitted at a department store, the poor ‘fitter’ ran out of letters well before she ran out of measure tape. I have to go to specialty stores and even there my selection is very . . . industrial.) My tummy has changed from my pre-children days, and the little pooch I’ve had since puberty has extra skin thanks to the triplets and Bam-Bam, the ten pound wonder. At six feet tall, I tend to balance out my middle, but my chest has been my largest measurement since high school.

Don’t get me wrong, the boobs can be quite fun. I never need to worry about filling out my bodice at Renn Faires or SCA events. I always have cleavage, even in a sports bra. My wife’s safe place is in my arms with her head on my chest. I was able to nurse and pump for my triplets for their entire first year and still have enough production to bag close to a gallon of milk (I wanted to donate it, as I had it in deep freeze, but couldn’t because I had been drinking tea with fenugreek and the milk bank wouldn’t accept it due to liver issues in sensitive babies).

They also suck. The back pain; the pain of underwire that is not wire, but cut sheet metal. The indents in my shoulders that I’ve had since before my 18^th birthday. Not ever having a shirt that really fits unless I tailor it myself. Having the choice between swimwear that my grandmothers would find too matronly or getting something custom made and hoping I didn’t just waste an enormous amount of money on something that I end up hating because it never fits.

 Case in point, we plan on going to a waterpark without the kids as part of our honeymoon and so Hunny and I decided to get new swimsuits. We have a custom swimwear place near us, and even though they took my measurements there, made a list of detailed changes to the basic pattern to make it fit me, when I tried it on yesterday . . . I almost cried. My tankini top looked like a maternity prom dress. And the top was nowhere close to fitting. They have to remake the entire thing. I am crossing my fingers that what they come up with will be better than what they made the last time.

Ok, onto the visual aides.

Here are some examples of what I’m assuming people around me see based on their behavior when I go into a store in a low cut top or (heaven forbid) a bathing suit top (in the event I have to grab some forgotten supply on the way to play in the water).

From most Men:

 

From many Women (generally of the less busty variety):  

 

From the older generation (of any gender):



 

What this makes me feel I look like:

 

What I actually look like:

 

I just love body issues . . . don't you?

 

- Vixi

 

 

A quick reminder about comments:

I screen comments before they are posted. I try to answer respectful questions to the best of my ability. I don’t mind spirited discussion, and I understand that there will be people who disagree with the choices I (and my family) have made. Personal attacks and hateful or discriminatory remarks will not be allowed.



Summertime

The kids are out of school; yesterday was the boys’ last day. We kicked off summer by spending the afternoon hanging with my two best friends (Adoree & Alani) and their kids (between us there are a dozen children).  Our children have known each other from well before birth, and have grown up more like cousins than not. Bam-Bam has been head over heels in love with Adoree’s daughter, Princess (a year older than he is) since he was three. Her son, Daredevil, and Elroy are both Whovians, so there is much talk of sonic screwdrivers and TARDISs when we all get together.

. . .

We are less than a month away from the wedding (and so close to done with the preparations). All the jewelry is finished (made by me, of course. I’ll put up some pictures of the different pieces after the big day). We’ve managed to save a huge amount of money by DIY-ing many of the accessories (so far that list includes: two ring pillows, two flower girl baskets, bridesmaid jewelry for six, flower girl jewelry for three, bridal jewelry for me, an entirely different style of bridal jewelry for Hunny, invitations – I love Vista Print, the handfasting cord, the decorations for my shoes, the flowers for the ceremony – Hunny’s mom volunteered to put the arrangements together for us).  The details are coming together really nicely and the upgrades by the venue are turning this into a much higher end event than we had thought we’d be able to have.

For comparison, the entire cost of our very small wedding a decade ago was close to what we spent on just our dresses this time around. A friend made my dress for just the cost of materials. We had our first ceremony at the park we had taken prom pictures at; the rental on the park was a whopping $4. The potluck reception was at my grandmother’s house. It was perfect for where we were then but this time is going to be an event!

. . .

My camera has returned from walk-about (it disappeared almost a year ago and has only recently resurfaced), so I can actually share pictures again. So, yay for new tutorials! Any suggestions on what you guys want to see made?

I’m hoping that without as much of the school year craziness I’ll be able to actually spend a little more time writing, so thank you all who haven’t forgotten me while the real world has demanded my attention.

-          Vixi

(PS- anyone have a good laundry system to share? I am swamped and I feel like I’m not making any progress. I swear I am just washing the same three loads over and over and not making a dent in the rest . . .)

'Cause it's late . . .

I was going to tell you about getting run over by a motorized wheelchair at Disneyland a couple of weeks ago . . .

but it's late, and I should be sleeping.


The last 2 weeks have been . . . let's say . . . difficult.


The girls are all walking (and climbing) and once again teething (which means biting). Bam-Bam is still working on potty training. Elroy is home on summer break. Hubby's hours for his day job have changed (better or worse I don't know yet, we'll just have to see), and my help during the day is gone for the summer.


I should probably qualify that last statement. My mom has been helping me 6 days a week (when Hubby is working) since I was on bed rest during my pregnancy with the girls. This has been tremendously helpful as just getting into the store takes 2 carts and (it certainly feels like) a dozen sets of hands.


For the past year (give or take) my parents have been searching for a property to be their (for now) vacation house and (in the near future) their retirement property. They finally found one they love and were able to purchase it, but it needs a lot of t.l.c. . . . . So they are spending July (and already spent the latter half of June) at their new place making it into their place.


Which leaves me rather . . . trapped. I may need to mention that I have a low tolerance for cabin fever.


And, because I like a challange, the past 2 weeks have also included swim classes for the boys (Hubby is even in the pool with Bam-Bam). So there's an upper limit on how long I can take at anything during the day. But tomorrow is the last class and Hubby has Fridays off for the next month. Hopefully I can coerce I mean convince some of Hubby's family (who live less than a mile away) to come and give me a hand 1 or 2 days a week while my mom is gone. If not . . . maybe Hubby can watch the kids while I take the ever expanding laundry pile to the laundromat on Fridays, 'cause I can't seem to get caught up.


Laundry is kind of like sleep that way. . . . I really should be doing more of it.