Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Seven Whole Years

Kris measures our marriage in dog years, so actually it could read Thirty-five Whole Years.  Anyway.... ok, I started thinking about this after I posted it originally, and I promise I know how to multiply.  It should be Forty-nine Whole Years, not Thirty-five.  Wow.  That's embarrassing.  ha!

Yesterday was our wedding anniversary.  Aawwww, you might say.  Yeah, it was spent taking care of a sick little boy.  Romantic, huh?  And according to my Timehop app, last year's anniversary was spent taking care of a sick little girl.  Good grief.

A few months ago I mentioned here that you should hear my wedding story.  Since yesterday was our anniversary, I thought it was time to share.

As in typical Traci fashion when it comes to the dramatics during major life events, I didn't fail myself in the least for my wedding.

I love weddings and everything about them.  Always have.  My grandmother made wedding cakes, directed and catered wedding, she was a jack of all trades.  I tagged along to who knows how many weddings starting at a very young age.  I would dream about my wedding - the dress, the cake, the ceremony, the flowers, etc., etc.

I finally had everything I needed for a wedding.  I couldn't wait for school to be out so I could go home and do all the last minute wedding stuff - exciting times!

The Tuesday before my wedding, I wasn't feeling so great.  Nerves?  Excitement?  Surely I wasn't getting sick.  Then something hit me on Wednesday.  Full force.  By Thursday I was throwing up.  I'm being completely honest when I say I hadn't thrown up in years.  Many years.  But of course I had to break that record the week of my wedding.  I remember vividly lying on my parents' couch and couldn't get up in time before I started losing whatever was in my stomach.  I called my dad crying and said that I just couldn't stop throwing up and couldn't make it to the bathroom or outside.  Sweet daddy came back to the house as quickly as he could to clean up my mess and help take care of me.

There is just something wrong with this picture.  I was supposed to be enjoying my wedding week.  I had things to do!  Mom was getting to do all the fun stuff without me!  Kris and his parents arrived on Thursday.  They all had a nice dinner together while I was miserable.  I wanted to lose weight before my wedding, but that's not how it should be done.

Friday afternoon, I had to pull myself together and find the strength to go to the rehearsal and dinner.  I made it, but I couldn't eat.  I just sat staring at a plate of fajitas wishing I could eat something.

My friend and I stayed in a hotel that Friday night.  That's the wild and crazy thing to do in Carthage - stay in a hotel on the loop rather than at your parents' house the night before you get married.  I woke up on the morning of my wedding, and I was ravenous!  And what was the only thing that would satisfy my extreme hunger?  Popcorn chicken from Sonic.  I left a note next to my sleeping friend and went to Sonic.  Classy, huh?  I felt much better.

Fast forward a few hours.....getting ready at the church.  I notice that mom and some others were sort of whispering.  Finally they broke the news.  My dad was sick.  Remember how I said he was having to clean up my mess?  Yeah, his turn now.  On my wedding day!  My mom asked me if I'd rather have my brother or Pops walk me down the aisle.  What?!  No, this isn't happening!  Thankfully, though, daddy (very weakly) was able to walk me to my groom.  But that's about it.  The ceremony hadn't been going on very long when I caught a glimpse of him leaving.  He came back into the church just before we were pronounced husband and wife.  We took some pictures after the ceremony, and that was the last I saw of my dad that day.

In the chaos of more pictures and getting to the reception, I didn't realize that my brother left with my dad.  He had to drive him home and get him in bed.  By the time my brother made it back to the reception, it was almost over.

aaaahhhhh!!!  Did anything go as planned?  I look back at my wedding and sort of laugh.  Did I get to have a fun wedding week?  No.  Did the reception get set up as I wanted it to?  Not exactly.  Did my dad get to enjoy the day?  No.  But did I marry the man God made for me?  Yes.  That's all that matters.

So, here's to seven thirty-five more wonderful years!  Make that Forty-Nine!!!

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