A monsoon, Bridezilla and 4 years later *updated AGAIN!*

June 28th, 2003. The sun was shining off and on and the temperature was comfortable. My family was in town and we were rushing around to get some last minute things done. Eventually I found myself sitting in a chair while a woman applied my makeup and did my hair. The reveal was both frightening and lovely. My face resembled a young Tammy Faye but my hair was passable.

Soon after, my sisters and friends were piling into my little two-door coupe and headed for the ceremony. 2 blocks from home I realized that my wedding dress was still hanging in the house. Screeching tires echoed through the air, the smell of burning rubber permeated my nose and a quick u-turn was made as I pounded the clutch to the floor and slammed the gear shifter into 2nd. Gawd I miss my 5-speeds.

A few moments later we were, once again, on our way. As we drove I noticed clouds rolling in and then, rain. Rain on my windshield. When you have an outdoor garden wedding ceremony planned, rain and clouds are the last thing you want to see.

Bridezilla was born.

We got settled into the dressing room of the old Victorian mansion and the skies looked more and more ominous with each passing minute. My dress was finally on and I felt like a million dollars. Even my makeup was beginning to look better. The time to walk down the stairs, across the garden grass and up to the beautiful, little, white bridge was here.

So was the rain.

This is the Chicago-land area... everyone within 200 miles of Chicago knows how fickle the weather is. If it rains, wait 10 minutes and it will be gone. I worked hard at suppressing the Bridezilla in me and took deep breaths, prayed, begged for clears skies and tried to smile.

A voice appeared from somewhere and asked, "Would you like a something to drink? A beer?"

"GOOD GAWD! YES! I need one!" I replied and snatched the bottle from her hand.

I chugged some beer, tried to relax and waited for the rain to pass. As I stood in the room overlooking the garden and the empty white chairs I watched the rain just come down in buckets. I saw my guests crowding under the breezeway that adjoined the garden so they could stay dry. Bridezilla did allow me to feel a tad sorry for them, briefly, but it didn't last long. I was the one suffering. The day was all about me and it was about to be ruined.

Then, the rain had stopped! Men in uniforms rushed around with white towels and began to dry off all of the chairs. Guests relaxed and started to walk out to take their seats.

The rain started, again. Only this time, the wind decided to join the party. Soon, the small town suburb of Chicago suffered a great monsoon. A monsoon, on my wedding day.

Bridezilla was scratching and clawing at my insides trying to find her way to the surface. The bitch. She won. In a moment of Paris Hilton rage I stomped my foot and bellowed out something childish and ridiculous. My sisters, bridesmaids and everyone else turned to look at me. It wasn't a pretty moment.

The rest of the story is borderline catastrophic and is the reason I'm still bitter to this day.

However, the debacle of a ceremony, the heat of the room we had to continue our wedding in, the fact that my father-in-law stared directly at the ass of a groomsmen that was one foot in front of his face during the entire ceremony and the fact that my music was screwed up as I walked in for my grand entrance, I still married a special man. When I saw his face, waiting for me, the rain, heat, tension and uncomfortable silence in the air drifted away. I smiled for the first time that day.

He is not an easy man to love, but he stole my heart the day I met him and I don't want it back. He is mine. He is the man who cooks me dinner. He is the man who always remembers to get me a Twix bar from the store. He is the man who keeps me warm in the winter. He is the man who makes me chocolate chip cookies whenever I ask. He is the man who knows exactly how I like to drink my sodas (yes, I have a specific way... shut up). He is the man with the silly laugh and great smile. He is the man gave me my children.

I married him for a reason. He is the man I first fell in love with, only better now. I love his grumpy face when he's tired. I love his sandpaper feet. I love his soft hands and I love his big brown eyes. I'm starting to love that he gets all squirmy when I get affectionate because he isn't a touchy-feely guy. Marriage is a learning experience so even after 4 years I'm still starting to love different things about him.

I didn't marry him to change him. I married the man he was and still is. If he squirms when I get affectionate, so be it. His heart is mine and my heart is his. Forever.

Babes, we have made it 4 years. We have made it this far with our differences and we will keep on going. You are stuck with me. I love you with all my heart. Someday, we will reenact our wedding in Cabo San Lucas and renew our vows. No rain. No debacles.

Happy Anniversary sweets. I love you.

*Update*

How could I forget to mention this...

This morning, I walked downstairs to find this on our table:



Ladies. Ladies, ladies ladies... do you see what that bag says? Go ahead, click on the picture, save it if you have to. Then enlarge it. Do you now see what it says?

IT SAYS COACH! As in, COACH! As in $500 leather purses, Coach! As in, DREAM ON Coach!

Then, I open the dainty, sweet brown box of joy and what do I see?

THIS!



This is a COACH scarf in greens, browns, creams and 100% SILK!

Girls, this mama loves scarves. Mama wears them in her hair, mama ties them loosely to her purses for fun and to add color, mama wears them around her waist to add an accessory to an outfit, mama wears them on her head and she wears them around her neck. Mama loves scarves.

But, until now, mama only bought the cute little scarves from Kohl's or Target. Now, mama has a COACH scarf. A 100% silk COACH SCARF. This po' little white trash girl is now the proud owner of a COACH scarf! Dear God I love my husband.

*Updated again...*

I didn't tell you WHY hubs got me a scarf for our anniversary. See, he looked up the traditional gifts for the 4th anniversary. I guess the gift was clothe or linen. So he got me a scarf. How thoughtful is that!?

Seriously girls, the man bakes chocolate chip cookies, makes homemade ice cream cakes and buys me a COACH scarf. You can love him too, it's okay with me.