Mawwiage. . . Mawwiage is what bwings us here today.

My sister got hitched on Saturday.

From Thursday afternoon until Saturday at 2:10pm, I ran around taking care of business for the lovely bride . . . like a matron of honor should.  While I was (and am) honored that she picked me to stand up beside her, it was obviously because I’m her sister and totally not because I’m organized.   And also not because I’m fashionable.  And probably not because I’m sensitive to a bride’s tenuous emotions.  But definitely because my fugly cow-butt totally made her already beautiful self look like Barbie.  I’m okay with that.

To me, it was just like any other big event – I focused and accomplished tasks as quickly and efficiently as possible (for me. . . which, in essence, means that any one of my readers could have had it done it 1/2 the time.).  I hadn’t gotten emotional at all.  In fact, I was pretty much telling my marvelous sister that there’s no reason for nervousness – it’s just a wedding.  You know that saying yes was going to bring a lifetime of waking up to his face.  Why worry?

AND THEN . . . I saw my dad start bawling.  I was still okay – I ran and got him a napkin so that he didn’t drip all over her dress.  There was a slight twinge in my stomach that should have told me there is stuff GOING DOWN right now! Whatever.  I walked down the aisle, preceding the bride, mostly thinking about how my three children were awfully quiet (they MUST be up to something!).

. . . and then I saw her turn the corner with my dad.  I lost it.  And I’m not talking an elegant single tear with red-rimmed eyes — I’m talking full-on water works with my nose running like a hose.  I couldn’t even see her train to fix it.

After tripping on her dress, almost knocking her over and ripping her train, and sniffling all-too-loudly while she was repeating her vows, I finally realized what that twinge was trying to tell me.  I never said I was the sharpest tack, or that I was the most vibrant crayon in the box, but I am a procrastinator in all things – including emotions.  The moment they kissed each other was a whirlwind of nostalgia.

Max.  My Max.  I married him four-and-a-half years ago.  He always was and always will be the sweetest, most selfless man I know.  He is an amazing dad.  His eyes could make the tundra melt (he contributes to global warming between his eyes and how much he sweats.  grossies!) and he’s a natural security system for our house – his snores sound like we’re harboring a fugitive Yeti.  I married the man who will forever be my best friend, my confidant and my heart.  I’m not an affectionate person in the slightest, I cannot verbalize emotions without sounding like a blubbering fool, and when he reads this he will probably get all gooey and want to kiss me.  I’ll say “WTF I was just gushing to the world about you, nothing to get all emotional about… gosh!”

Our lives have been busy as hell with our kids.  I’m constantly thinking about their nourishment and well-being because they can’t always vocalize it for themselves.  My sister’s wedding reminded me of the reason I have a family and why my kids are so loving, laid-back, funny, and naturally charismatic – my Max.  Not that I’ve forgotten about him – far from it – but I’ve completely reaffirmed my faith in our relationship lasting until we’re old, gray and sipping lemonade in a nursing home.