This is the weekend when my daughter’s impending wedding becomes an absolute reality.
I mean, I knew that she would be getting married. I celebrated her engagement with her. I booked a caterer, rented a tent, paid for one of those upscale air conditioned porta-potty trailers.
I have a new outfit, a new hair color (gray) a new pair of dressy sandals.
Of course I knew she was getting married!
Its just that I didn’t have to actually totally face it until this weekend. The wedding shower weekend.
School got out on Wednesday, and on Thursday I went into full-on Mama Bear mode, cleaning, organizing, shopping, wrapping, weeding, cleaning. We are hosting the shower here, and I will be serving lunch to a whole pile of new family members. I’ll be doing my best to introduce our family to Sam’s and will hope that everyone has a good time as they socialize on our lawn and in our living room.
Thursday was a full day of getting ready. I was home alone, and I thoroughly enjoyed the freedom and pleasure of cleaning the kitchen as I danced to the Boogaloo Swamis. I’m an unrepentant gardener, too, so I had a very good time mowing and weeding and transplanting in an effort to change my crazy wilderness meadow into an actual garden-party-worthy garden. It all felt pretty cool until I woke up this morning.
And every single muscle fiber in my entire body was screaming in pain. I got up very early (my throbbing hands and shrieking back took care of the whole alarm clock thing). I poured a huge cup of iced coffee and sank into my hottub, the greatest single investment of my entire life.
I thought I was doing OK as I came out of the tub and settled onto the couch to await the day. But by 7:30, when Paul and the dogs emerged from bed, I was fighting off the need to simply lie down and sleep. I have no clear memory of doing it, but somehow I managed to grab a pillow and a nice fleecy blanket, and to curl back up on the couch. For the next hour, I alternated between a deep sleep and a semi-wakeful state in which I did my best to make sense of my surroundings. (“H’mmm. Paul seems to be wrapped in a towel.” “Ouch, Sadie is sleeping on my feet.” “Huh. Paul looks like he is dressed for the day, but he has no shoes on.” “Ouch. Tucker is sleeping on my feet.” “Wow, Paul is all dressed up and wearing his work clothes and shoes. I hope he remembers his lunch.” “Ouch; Tucker and Sadie are both sleeping on my feet.”) I just couldn’t seem to make myself come fully awake, no matter how hard I tried.
Finally, at about 9:25, Tucker’s head cut off all circulation to my feet, and I finally came to. I pulled my feet up toward my chest, and curled on my left side. I raised my eyes to the bright blue sky that filled the window. And I caught sight of the crescent moon.
And just like that, I was pulled far back in time, to the house that we rented when Kate was only a baby. I looked up at the improbable moon, holding itself steady in the bright sky of day. And I remembered a song that Kate used to sing to me, back when she was only one or two years old. And I sat up on the couch, and I sang.
“Mr. Moon, you’re out too soon;
The sun is still in the sky.
Go back to bed,
and cover up your head,
And wait till the day goes by.”
This is the weekend of my daughter’s wedding shower. This is the first celebration of her new life with her love, her partner, her other half. I have cleaned the house and made the food and weeded the garden beds.
I can’t deny it any longer.
I sang the final lines of that simple song from so long ago. I brushed a tear from my cheek.
I got up off the couch and headed for the shower. There was still so much to do today!