It was a marathon weekend. Only I sprinted.
And, if you sprint during a marathon...you crash. You run out of steam. You tucker out.
That's what happened to me.
But, lemme tell you 'bout the Groom's Dinner...(sorry, no photos of this...you'll learn why soon.)
As Best Man, my hubby had lots of duties. As brother of a brother visiting from California, he had lots of
excuses reasons to spend time with his bro he only sees once a year. As husband to a wife who is just a tad high maintenance worth it and feeling like cocky-poo, he should have made me chicken noodle soup.
Instead he went squirrel hunting with his brother. (Oh, the joys of living in the country...don't worry, I don't eat them. *gag*) But, not before there were some "words" exchanged between us. The day went on, he rushed home, as I was rushing out to get our big boy from football, and he left for the wedding rehearsal.
I got our kiddos settled, made them supper, and got myself ready for the Groom's Dinner, which was to follow the rehearsal. When our babe saw me getting ready, she started melting...so I just bolted when I was done. I couldn't wait around for the Mr. to tell me when they were done with rehearsal...I just took off and went to WalMart (forgetting my camera at home, but not gonna chance going back in to a melting 2 year old).
Many texts and much lack of communication later, I was fuming. Finally, the text came that they were there, ready to eat and "I am sorry". (FYI male readers...apologies sent via text don't count. Amen.)
With my feelings hurts but my pride intact, I headed to the Groom's Dinner and proceeded to act like an incredibly mature, grown adult...I refused to look at my handsome husband, much less talk to him. SOOOOOOO mature, isn't it?
Then, I forgot to eat, all wrapped up in my anger, I was. I had a couple of drinks (and, a couple of drinks on an empty tummy for this light weight drinker, are pretty much equivalent to a liter of hard alcohol for the rest of the population), left to go boogy with my SIL's and still refused to talk to my husband. (Gosh, my ability to handle disagreement is astounding, isn't it?)
When I realized I was in no shape to drive myself home, I sent a text to my dad ('cuz who else is willing to put up with an angry, drunk girl, but her dad?) and, of course he came to my rescue.
And, since he's my dad...he told me he wouldn't bring me home until I went and hugged my husband (who had since joined us lady folk at a different bar...and whom I still wouldn't talk to except to sing some of the words to "Lover Lover"...as in "Lover, lover, lover...YOU don't treat me no good no more..." Classy, huh?) and I whispered in his ear "My dad said he wouldn't take me home until I hugged you." Then I walked away.
(You're so impressed with my ability to handle conflict, aren't you? Admit it...)
So, my dad brought me home, I went to bed...
And woke up on the day of the wedding...
To be continued.