So. The Wedding.
The day was going great, Tony came home from work early, Gabby was cooperating, we were excited and looking forward to a night out together with people we love and care about.
Then, we got "The Phone Call That Changed Everything."
My mother was in the hospital. She had told me she wasn't feeling well in the morning, but that she would still watch the kids. But, she got worse and my dad took her to the ER. I was worried about my mom and was panicked about the wedding at the same time. I didn't know what to do. After talking to my dad, I knew my mom was going to be ok, they just needed to figure out what the pain in her stomach was, but, now we had a babysitter crisis.
I called my cousin, who didn't sound very happy about being asked to watch THREE KIDS for 7 hours. But! She said she'd call me back and "let me know."
Tony and I talked about it and he decided that he would stay home with the kids and I would have to go alone.
We were both upset about the entire situation. My mom being in the hospital. Not getting to spend a night out together. So depressing.
The kids were happy, especially Andrew because he was bummed out that we weren't going to be around on his birthday. So, in a way, that made it better for both of us to deal with. We decided Tony and the kids would drive me out to the wedding, drop me off and have dinner together for Andrew's birthday. A friend of a friend agreed to take me home, so, ha! I could still drink a little wine and not have to worry about driving home, which, we all know is the most important thing one needs to worry about when attending a wedding.
The wedding was "outdoors" which, I should have taken that into consideration when buying a dress for it, but, you know, for thirty bucks, I was willing to freeze. (And even willing to "play it off" like I wasn't freezing, so as not to feel like a JACKASS for wearing a sleevless dress on a cold, rainy day.)
The location of the wedding was quite beautiful. It was a winery, located at the top of a hill, overlooking Temecula. God, it would have been so perfect, were it not for the fact that it was wet and damn cold.
I felt very out of place without my husband. Everyone waited indoors before the wedding started. Did I mention it was DAMN COLD? Because, damn! It was cold. I stood in a corner all alone, feeling very jackassish and very COLD. It was FINALLY time for the wedding to start, so we made our way back to the freezing cold outdoors (thankfully, there was a tent and heaters, but really, they were no match for THE FREEZING COLD. And I know some smart ass is going to inform me that we californians don't know what cold is! But, trust me, it was fa-reeeeezing.) I sat there with my cleavage, pretending to be TOTALLY COOL with having a sleeveless dress on, waiting for the wedding to start. Amazingly, once the it finally started? I forgot about the cold. It must have been all the love in the air, warming my heart and shit.
Barf, I know, but seriously, it was very sweet. The bride looked beautiful, and yes, I cried a little.
Now, there's something you need to know about me before I get to The Good Part. I am the kind of person who gets overly excited about things and tends to lose control in the name of a good time. Example. If I'm at a wedding and there is FREE WINE, I will be like "OMG! It's a wedding! And there is wine! Free wine! And love is in the air, and I'm alone and feeling akward, so, LET US PARTAKE OF THE WINE, Oh people at the wedding! For it is free! And it is a wedding! And WOOT! WINE!"
Anyone who knows me will tell you that this is true. That I get OVERLY EXCITED and DIVE RIGHT INTO WHATEVER FUN IS TO BE HAD with great enthusiasm, and, while it is cute and wonderful that I am so excited about having fun, I tend to take it too far and, well, that can be very UNcute.
So, I was standing all alone, waiting for the reception to start and the bartender, Phil, asked what kind of wine I would like. He told me the tale of a sweet red wine named "Lucious lips" and I was all "Phil, pour me some of DAT."
Oh. Phil. He was great. I mean, seriously, he laughed when I told him I was used to the cheap ass "Wild Vines" wine that I can get on sale for less than $3 a bottle. He was my only friend during those few minutes and man, did he take care of me with the wine.
Four glasses later, I started to feel a little weird and um, well, the reception hadn't even started yet.
I turned to Phil and said "Phil, listen to me, do NOT let me have another glass of wine, even if I beg!"
And Phil heard what I said (And perhaps saw that I was starting to mentally black out.) and said "Ok!"
The next hour or two is a blur, or, more like, I do NOT REMEMBER IT AT ALL.
But! I heard some great stories about "falling on my ass repeatedly whilst trying to bust some sexy dance moves on the dance floor" and how I would "wake up with bruises on my ass... FOR SURE!" But also, how "much fun it was to dance with me because HAHAHA! YOU FELL DURING BILLY JEAN!"
I started to come out of the drunken state towards the end of the reception and remember wanting to cry for letting that happen. My only defense is this..."I didn't INTEND on getting drunk! My INTENTION was to enjoy a few glasses of delicious red wine, but! I forgot that I hadn't eaten a single thing all day long and WHOOPS, I got drunk."
Joelle tried to make me feel better with this bit of wisdom...
"you had a good time ,you didn't hurt anyone, there's ALWAYS someone at a wedding who as a few too many and puts a lampshade on their head. it's totally cool, i'm sure. unelss you flashed people or kissed people's husbands".
That made me feel better, because unless "gettin' down and hittin' the floor" counts as "Flashing people" I did NO SUCH THING.
I felt pretty bad about it, I even CRIED about it the next day, (which, there's a small chance the FLARED UP HEMORRHOIDS had a little bit to do with the tears because OUCH and yet, HA! HA! Did the act of falling on my ass cause "the flare up"?) But, I'm the kind of person that makes a bigger deal out of things than they actually are because I'm paranoid, so, I really shouldn't have made such a big deal out of the whole thing.
The next day, I stopped by to say goodbye to the bride and I started to cry (shutup, I've told you before I'm an overly sensitive type person) and said "I'm sorry for getting that drunk" and she took me by the hands, looked me in the eyes and said "Did you have fun?"
"Yes, I did."
"Well, that's all that matters."
She's the bride. Who am I to argue with the bride? Now, if only I could get my husband to take back his supportive "YOU REALLY NEED TO GROW UP" comment, I think I'll feel all better and be able to move on from this.
(I have been trying to write this post since 9 this morning and between phone calls, putting clothes in the washer/dryer, taking care of Gabby, applying preparationH, I haven't been able to finish, so the whole "flow" of the post may be slightly compromised.)
Love that bride! I would have kissed her for saying that.