We Do Re-Do, part 2

I have a history of doing things twice to make up for the way the first one went down. My baptism for example. I was 10 the first time and I remember it very clearly. My parents, older sister, and I were baptized together on a Sunday evening and afterward, the congregation verbally voted their approval for us to be members of their church. In my 10 year old mind, that was not the day I publicly proclaimed my decision to follow Jesus. It was my initiation into the Baptist Church. I'm not saying that the baptism "didn't count" as I know I'd given my life to Christ when I was 10. But the feelings that surrounded the memory, weren't...fond, ya know? So in 2012, at the age of 40, I was re-baptized on my own terms, in front of Ron, our children, and about 20 friends before a co-ed volleyball game, and my baptism experience was forever changed.

So at the age of 50, to be given the gift of re-experiencing our wedding on our own terms, was not something we approached lightly and the big 3 wedding decisions needed to be agreed upon: What we'd eat, who we'd invite, and what we'd wear. 

FOOD.

Every year on my birthday we have Long John Silvers with our kids because it's been my favorite birthday tradition for as long as I can remember and our new wedding was happening on my birthday. But Long John Silvers for a full on reception meal wasn't nearly as realistic or convenient as say, Fazolis. Hey. I'm not fancy, but I am Italian and I don't know anyone who doesn't like Fazolis breadsticks and Ron eventually agreed.

GUESTS.

My building has space for 30 people. Our family of 13 and our Pastor and his wife made up half, which left 15 seats available. (My math skills are next level right now.) 

Who we invited had a very simple criteria. Loyalty and Trust. 

As we made up our guest list, we'd ask these 2 questions: 

1. If we got in a huge fight and one of us went to talk to them about it, would they take sides and fuel the fire with a bash session against the other person or would they talk us off the ledge and help us restore our marriage?

2. Would they turn around and tell other people about what happened behind our backs?

That simplified our guest list by a lot.

I challenge you to ask yourself those questions and evaluate who you have in your circle of loyalty and trust. Some might call that standard "Italian Crap." Hey. My circle might be small, but it is tight. 

WARDROBE.

For all the nonsense that goes on in our marriage, we're lovers not fighters. But give us 6 weeks to plan our "dream wedding" and it's gonna go down, because somebody's gonna demand to wear a silver shirt instead of black. What's next Groomszilla, a cashew cake so I'll be dead in the tub by morning?

After countless arguments, it became obvious that this was the hill he was willing to die on and I graciously conceded my vision of us both dressed in black. FINE! RUIN OUR 2ND WEDDING THEN!

With the details settled, the days leading up to our wedding were filled with excitement...and 2am google searches consisting of scary words like "DIY Body Shimmer" and "How much tequila to add with a drink already containing tequila?" What could go wrong?

Ron went first thing that morning to pick up the cake. A phobia he and I both share is fear of cake shortage. And when we pulled the 2-tier cake out of the box, I gasped and we both went silent. W.T.H is that? Two dozen Walmart cupcakes to the rescue. Crisis averted. Don't judge us, we had big honeymoon plans for the leftover cake. 

Next up, the boys took Ron axe throwing and I headed to the salon to get my hair blown out, dressed in my pajamas and pink The MOB slippers from Kearstin's wedding, which just happened to coincide with my newly adopted "Italian Crap" life motto.

When I was waiting to cross over an intersection, I saw horses running everywhere, being chased by a small group of Amish boys. By the time I reached them, they'd gotten the horses back into their field, but they couldn't get the gate lifted off the ground to latch. I'm not sure what surprised them more- my freshly tanned 'Venetian Bronzed' skin, my pajamas, my slippers, or when I jumped out and helped them hoist up the other side of the gate so they could get it latched, but I climbed back into my depraved mini van and watched them in my rearview mirror as they stood staring and probably debating whether or not to tell their parents. Super Hero or Local Harlot...which way we spinnin' this, kids?

I arrived home from the salon to find the best lunch any bride could ever want before her wedding...a Wendy's triple. I allow myself one per year and that one met my 2022 quota, because I hadn't eaten a Wendy's cheeseburger since October 2021 when I almost choked to death while my husband and son ignored all of my sudden dangerous silence. 

I'm getting nothing from Wendy's for this endorsement even though I should.

Let's talk about Ron again. 

Besides wardrobe tantrums, he has 2 toxic traits:

1. He likes to announce to the bride things that are going wrong on her wedding day. He did it to Kearstin and he tried to do it to me, but all I heard was my daughter-in-law Barbara yell- "SHE DOES NOT NEED TO KNOW THAT!!" I still don't know what he was trying to tell me. All I know is that I need a recording of her yelling that so that every time he tries to ruin my mood with dramatic news I'll just press play.

2. In the hours leading up to huge events being hosted at our house, he chooses the most random things to do that don't need done. An hour before the photographer was due to arrive, I looked outside to see him scooping dog poop out of the grass in the back yard. It's the back yard, it's 36 degrees, and we're having an indoor wedding...what the hellllll are you doing?!? 

So when the photographer arrived and suggested we do outdoor pictures and our kids and grandkids were hop skipping through the dog poop land mine and I'm the one who's foot squished through a steaming pile of crap, I can't really complain about that now can I?

He finally got dressed, strolled outside late for pictures, looked around at all of us and said, "Should I wear my black shirt?"

Ohhhh noooo, my friend. Tantrums were thrown, decisions were made, and now you're gonna smile pretty in your silver shirt.

Our wedding was everything we dreamed it would be. Our son and grandson walked me down the aisle and surrounded by our children, grandchildren, and closest most trusted circle of friends, we recommitted our lives to each other. As the song The Time Of My Life began playing, we kissed, and not one person "tsk tsk'd" and predicted that someday we'll regret using a song from Dirty Dancing because those are our non-judgmental people and they know that we won't. 

We kicked off the reception by toasting with my signature drink, the Shargarita...strawberry flavored Jose Cuervo that already had tequila before I added a lot more tequila. Then, unlike the first wedding when we smashed cake into each other's faces, we gently fed each other cake in honor of the sweet covenant love we vow to model for the next 30 years.

 

We did it. We re-wrote a piece of our history and created a brand new memory.

And it was perfection...minus that silver shirt, obvi.

Our son Zac used our wedding pictures to create a video of our special day and he put it to the song we walked down the aisle to. (For Life, by Christian & Chloe) Click here if you'd like to see it. 

Thank you to everyone who helped make this one of the best days of our life.

Is there any part of your story you'd like to re-write? Take my advice: DO.IT.

Photos by Kandalyn and Tony Green Photography