cheap wedding inspiration

{Confession} I botched it.

Oh, you know what? I think my post last week was misleading. There was this one teensy tiny, itty bitty thing that I did that… Fine, you know what? I sort of botched it.

I didn’t do anything too stupid. I feel like I have to tell you that, because if you know me even a little (and, let’s be honest, you do) you know that my admission of a small botch could be tantamount to lighting the church on fire accidentally. But I did throw The Husband for a loop, and (I’m certain) shocked the guests in attendance of the wedding. And I’ll tell you the very mistake I made that lead to my mortifying moment on my wedding day:

I prepared for the reception. Not the ceremony.

Go back. Go back to that post I did awhile back, the one that talked about the difference between Getting Married and Having A Wedding. Remember when I so wisely told you all that the good stuff happens during the getting married and the having a wedding is all bonus? Well. It turns out I was totally right, and yet, still totally unprepared.

I knew going into this dog and pony show that if there was going to be a moment when I cried, it would be when my father gives me away. There are a million reasons for this– not the least of which is that I’m an incurable Daddy’s Girl. Suffice it to say that if my makeup was going to get ugly, I knew that would be the moment when it all came undone. So.

So I rushed through the rehearsal a little.

Yes, I know! Shhhhh, with the judgy faces and the tsk-tsk noises. I say it out loud to myself and I know how silly it was of me, but everyone was staring at me, waiting to see if I was going to crack. Partially, I didn’t need to. I was level-headed and fairly not-stressed-out. But mostly… I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. The naysayers that were openly shocked that I hadn’t bride-hulked out on them through the planning process. (My mother isn’t one of them. She will tell you that I was positively awful the whole time I was engaged. She’ll also tell you I’m a mean daughter because she doesn’t have a grandchild yet.)

Right, so I rushed through rehearsal and didn’t really pay too much mind to the way that the hand-off would go between my father and my future husband, mostly because that’s when I knew the waterworks would kick up. At the time, it didn’t seem like a big deal, because I was winning (read: not crying) and I was hungry and it was the fastest way to close the gap between the rehearsing part and the dinner part.

The next afternoon, when I was left all by myself with my father in the back of the church, peering through the windows in the chapel doors, waiting for Here Comes the Bride to kick up, I realized what I thought was my first mistake, but really was the second. Or maybe it was the first. (Anyway, if you’re going to make mistakes, it’s when you take your walk down the aisle, so… write this down.) First and foremost, I had picked an entrance song that was less traditional, and then did not bother to listen to it several times through to know where the entrance cues might be. Instead, I stood in the back of the church having a conversation like this with my father:

Dad: Do we go now?
Me: … Uh…
Dad: You don’t know when we go?
Me: You were at the rehearsal, too. Weren’t you paying attention?
Dad: You weren’t either.
*music gets louder and I realize that everyone is staring at us.*
Me: Well… it’s now or never. I’m going to go get married. You coming?
Dad (with a smile): Yep!

And we marched down the aisle, arm in arm. And that’s when I started crying a little. But that’s not the big bumble I made.

The big bumble I made happened somewhere after my father whispered, “Slow down, Murph.” and before I found myself sitting next to my in-the-process-of-becoming husband. We got to the end of the aisle, and my father leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek, and everyone and their mother (and my mother, and my sister, and my new mother, and my new sister, and my new grandfather, and my aunts) were snapping photographs, and there was like this blinding flurry of motion and Dad shook The Soon-to-be-Husband’s hand and then…

I panicked a little. Because I was trying not to cry but also trying not to step on my dress and I suddenly realized that I was perhaps a little unprepared for the moment because I had to step around furniture and there was my matron of honor (who was nine months pregnant, so I didn’t want her to step around the chair because what if she touched it and popped?!) and so, I did what I always do when I get a little panicked: I thought to myself in a long, rambling, semi-coherent run-on sentence all the things I detailed for you just now, and then I leaned forward, pressed my right hand to The Groom’s shirtfront, and caught him (and everyone else in the church) completely off guard by stealing a small peck of a kiss from him.

And I could see it on his face and hear it as the crowd sucked their teeth through their breath. I blushed right away, and half-expected the priest to throw his hands up with exasperation and mutter something like, “Well, that’s it, you morons. We have to call the whole thing off! Don’t you know the rules about kissing?!”

I didn’t. I didn’t know the rules about kissing, and I was panicked, so I did what I always do, which is turn to The Groom for comfort and think about the consequences afterward.

The Priest didn’t yell, though. James just sort of looked at me like, What are you doing, crazyhead? Then he took me by the hand and lead me around my chair, where my matron of honor was also looking at me with that Oh, Mallory sort of expression on her face. They still let us get married, but it took me a couple minutes to recover.

Had I jinxed my marriage?

I still haven’t Googled it, because I have no desire to know. (I did think about Googling it, but my coordinator had my clutch, which had my phone, and anyway, if I have a hard time getting away with checking the internet during regular mass, I reasoned it would be a longshot to get away with Googling during my wedding.) It was when I was thinking about Googling the kissing regulations and their connections to jinxes that I realized that my engagement ring was still on my left hand. So there, in front of Sweet Baby Jesus, the priest (who could see me the whole time) and my new family (who, thankfully, could not) I had to muscle my very tiny ring off of my supernaturally sausagelike finger and transfer it to the other hand (because I might be a total wreckingball over the kissing, but I’m smart enough to know that that is unlucky). And the priest just stood on the alter, preaching to the church, making eye contact with me the whole time I was struggling with my larger-than-life digits.

Ugh. Ugh, I tell you. Do not be that girl. Do not be me. When you picture what your wedding day will be like, picture it all. Download your entrance song on iTunes and sit with your eyes closed. Envision what it will look like, staring down the aisle at your friends, who have all gone fearlessly before you to guide you on your way. Think about the steps you’ll take, and how you’ll have one last moment at the back of the church with your father, who will be himself fighting back tears, wondering where the years all went that closed the gap between your scabby-kneed days, how you turned so quickly into the marvelously beautiful woman standing before him.

When you walk down the aisle, you’re going to want to run to that man that you’re about to marry. Take a moment and share a smile with your mother, especially if you spent the previous week yelling at her (or screaming to her about how everyone else deserved to be yelled at). If you can, mouth “thank you” to your maid of honor. Everyone else will think you’ve just said a curse word, but she’ll know what you meant. She always knows what you mean.

About halfway down, your father is going to tug at your arm and tell you to slow down. Later, he’ll joke and tell you that he was worried the photos that he’s paying all that money for were going to end up blurry, but you’ll both know that he was just trying to hold onto the last fleeting moments, when you were still his little girl, and he had you on his arm. Give him those last few moments. Share them together.

And then, when you’re about 3/4 of the way there, your eyes will lock onto that fiance of yours. And everything else going on around you will just take a breath for a second. It’ll just stop. It’ll just… melt away. And he’ll give you that cute little nervous smile, the one you saw for the first time when he asked you out, and then when your hand grazed his, and then again when he met your parents for the firs time. You’re comfortable together now, so you didn’t realize that you missed it, but there it’ll be, an old friend, waiting for you as you make your way toward him.

And you’ll get there, and right before the world snaps back to life, and the people are there, taking the photos, and the men are shaking hands and you’re trying to step around furniture without popping anyone… Right before all that happens, you’re going to feel like you’ve just taken the longest walk of your life.

And you know what? You absolutely have. You will have, in twenty-or-so steps, have crossed the canyon between what it means to be someone’s girlfriend, and arrived firmly on the ground of what it means to be someone’s wife. Your hard work will have brought all your loved-ones together. You got everyone outfitted. You made sure they’d all be fed. You arranged car services and nail services and hair appointments. You looked at stationary and researched flowers and ate more cake than you’ll ever admit, even to your matron of honor (who knows even without you confessing it, but don’t worry, she’ll never tell). You grew in ways that only the most devoted couples grow– you grew together.

And then you’ll stand there, together, the center of the flurry of all this action…

And if you want to kiss your almost-husband, you know where I stand on the matter. Lean in and give him a little smooch if it’ll make you feel better. That’s what getting married is about– helping one another when the pressure is high and the anxiety is peaked and you know where to turn for comfort.

My point– and I do have one, I promise– my point is that if you’re going to get to the end of the aisle and want to kiss your groom… it’s something that you’ll feel better about knowing ahead of time. So go, buy your wedding entrance song on iTunes. Run yourself a hot bubble bath. Take 20 minutes out of your day to go lay in the suds with your eyes closed, picturing that walk down the aisle. The swish of the fabric of your gown. The way the world will look as your father raises your veil. What you’re going to do with your elbows as you carry your bouquet. What will the carpet feel like underneath your shoes? What will the sunlight look like, streaming through the glass? How will the music bounce off the walls of the chapel?

Go on, dream about it. They’re right when they tell you that it swirls past you in the blink of an eye. Savor it as much as you can ahead of time. Because, I was right, too. The most important part of the day is the getting married.

The best advice I can give you… is prepare accordingly.

And don’t be afraid to ask questions to the brides who have gone before you. Walking in your shoes, we’re a well of knowledge that won’t judge or belittle your curiosity. There are some things that you will simply not know unless you ask someone who’s been there. So don’t be afraid to. Because, don’t forget… we’re all in this together.

-MMV.