I’m talking REAL PLANS, not just Visions

So, at this point I’m going to say that we’re getting down to the wire– and I am definitely feeling stressed. 10 days and counting, and I find myself trying to find time in between time to pack in the much needed organization of my time (and all the other stuff that needs organizing). And then there’s just my regular life that is continuing on as if it had no idea that I’m getting married in ten days– the nerve.

This morning as I was in the midst of juggling my life, sitting in the orthododontist’s office with my daughter while writing a general to do list for the wedding, I was called to send a “help me!” text to a friend.

“Hi. Can I ask you for your help in a general sense? I don’t have specifics yet– but I know that I need help…”

His response came a few minutes later, “Of course. I’m always happy to help…”

Massive sigh of relief. Wasn’t that easy? Just knowing that someone out there who I trust and love is willing to help me is enough to ease my anxiety. Next I sent a text to my assistant asking for help more specifically in brainstorming the blessingway. Another quick and affirmative response, and I was feeling downright un-anxious.

Here are the wedding related things I accomplished today: (bear with me– this is actually incredibly helpful for my sweet little wedding-addled brain)

Made a list of wedding things that need to be done (I know this seems like something I probably should have done weeks or maybe even months ago– but let’s stay positive and just say “good job, Mandy” for doing it at all. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere.
Reached out and asked for help from TWO DIFFERENT PEOPLE. (Never mind that one of them is someone I actually pay to help me– bringing that up right now seems almost like rubbing salt in the wound, and that’s not a positive thing to do)
Concretely planned my blessingway (I’m talking real plans, not just visions), I actually wrote stuff down.
Made the invitation for my blessingway– just a few more email addresses and that baby is going OUT INTO THE WORLD!!
Filled out the online application for our marriage license (in doing so finally nailed down in my head how to spell the word license– ACCOMPLISHMENT)
Planned a trip with my husband-to-be to procure said license tomorrow morning.
Set up a meeting with my awesome friend who is “always happy to help” for tomorrow afternoon.
What’s that you say? How could there possibly be more bullet points? You’re right. I’m stretching it at this point– but really– today was a turning point.

I’ve always been a deadline oriented type of gal. There’s something about that ticking clock that actually makes me begin to take things seriously. Tomorrow we’re into single digits with the days. That is NOT MESSING AROUND. This wedding is HAPPENING SOON. And it doesn’t really get much more DIY than this.

My lesson for the day, quoted from my dear, always happy to help friend,

“You may be over emphasizing the y in that concept. It’s the royal y.”

So, here’s to the DIroyalY, may it make the next ten days ever easier.

Makes me wanna marry him or something…

It’s 11 days to go now– and it’s all I can do to string a sentence together. Seriously. I woke up feeling like a zombie this morning. I ignored my instincts and got out of bed and went to teach my 6:15 am class. I stumbled my way through teaching and back home into bed, setting my alarm for an hour before my next client at 10 am. When the alarm rang at 9 am I felt like my entire body was full of tar. Moving felt like a feat. I got up to go to the bathroom, my head hanging forward as I sat down to pee, and I realized that the idea of me being effective at helping anyone within the next two hours was ludicrous.

I crawled back into bed and texted my 10 and 11 am clients apologetically. This whole “putting yourself first” thing is extremely challenging for me. It makes me feel guilty and like I’m letting someone down, which is accurate. But, if I were not to put myself first, I’d be letting myself down. And that’s exactly what I preach against. So, taking my own medicine I went back to sleep for two more hours. By the time it was noon I felt a massive weight had lifted and I was able to do my two hour 12:30 energetic mentoring session on the phone with a client on the East Coast.

I managed to grocery shop before heading back to work at 4:30– this felt like a cosmic accomplishment. Back at work, I saw a client and then taught my two evening classes. My sweet partner (who is currently cleaning the kitchen) had dinner ready for me when I got home, makes me wanna marry him or something. We ate together and then I collapsed into an epsom salt bath with an assortment of essential oils added for awesomeness.

I guess the moral of my story here is: I’m EXHAUSTED. I couldn’t even say exactly why, but today felt like the opposite of the gloriousness that was yesterday. There’s always a yin to balance out the yang. Yesterday’s singing sunshine gave way to rain today– and the rain gave me permission to settle into myself and rest and recuperate. Today I took care of myself– and while there’s something in me that hates to acknowledge the necessity of that– the much wiser part of me is really proud of myself. I am not super human. I’m just a regular human and sometimes I need to take a break.

There’s an immense amount of work to be done– and a deadline looming, but here’s what I know: It’s going to get done. I can say that with absolute certainty. 11 days from now I will be married. And regardless of all of the steps I take from now until then it’s going to happen and it will be absolutely perfect– because that’s the only thing that it possibly could be.

Things are continuously evolving…

We’re at 12 days and counting here, folks… Getting to that point of no return…

Today was glorious. The sun was singing in the sky and everyone was walking around about two inches taller than they were a week ago in the rain. There was nothing to hide from today. It was a bust your windows wide open and sing to the world kind of day– so that’s what I did! We opened the garage door at the studio and blasted the new soundtrack to my life through mat class today. Ayla Nereo, Hollow Bones.

Her brilliant music filled the studio. There was a light breeze outside whipping through the space occasionally, blowing in an errant leaf. It was a magical environment. In one short hour we moved Winter out of the studio and Spring in.

I wondered all day what I would write about today– there was nothing jumping out at me related to the wedding. (except all the lists in my head) It was a long day of work. I finished up a little before 7 and picked up my partner on my way home. As i pulled up to the house I told him I had received a text from my ex-husband and I needed to give him a call. “But at least I’m not dreading it– like I used to…” I said getting out of the car. “That’s good.” He agreed. I’ve turned a major corner with my first husband. I used to brace myself when I got a text that he wanted to talk. My mind would begin to run away with me, taking me to all sorts of unlikely places in surmising what he wanted to talk about. There’s a history there. But things are not like they used to be. Things are continuously evolving.

I sat down on the couch and dialed his number, he answered and our daughter immediately began talking to me. They were in the car on their way home. I talked to her for a few minutes and then they arrived home and he and I began our conversation in earnest. He wanted to talk to me about logistics with our kids, and other things as well. He talked to me about a hard time he had been having with something and I found myself full of sympathy for him, feeling angry at the injustices portrayed against him. This corner we’ve turned feels massive, so large it took several years for me to even acknowledge that there was an other side. But now I’m standing over here and wondering why and how it took me so long… (though it is what it is, and I’m just glad I made it).

We talked for awhile longer, strategizing different things related to our kids, I relayed a couple of stories that seemed particularly pertinent about our son to him. And then as the conversation was coming towards a close he said, “I had a really good time the other night.” He and my partner went out for drinks one night last week after my ex-husband sent a welcome-to-the-family-let’s-get-a-drink text. They were out for a couple of hours, each of them finally gaining a clearer perspective on the other.

Then he said– “Congratulations. It’s a big deal, you deciding to do it again.”He would know. Better than anyone.

And for a long period of time I had some serious doubts about whether I ever would.

“I’m really glad you found someone who makes you happy.”

And he is.

He wants the best for me, just as I want the best for him. We’re on the same team, members of the same tribe. And despite all of my insistence over the last seven years to the contrary, we are family. We embarked on an adventure together when we were just babies and shared an innocent and naive love that didn’t understand how to grow past its infancy. We bound ourselves to each other for stability and to create a rudder between the two of us. We created a life together and brought two phenomenal human beings onto the planet. For a short time it was just the two of us against the world, and then there were three… and then there were four…

We were a powerful and dynamic force together until we weren’t.

I can’t imagine my life without his being intertwined in it. He is my baby daddy. Both of my children have all of his best qualities and a few of his worst. They came away with the same from me. As the years wear on, as our children continue to grow, the need for us to be in close contact wanes. But he is my family, and his blessing for my marriage means the world. He knows I don’t step into this commitment lightly. He knows what my word means. He understands perhaps better than anyone that this time around, I’m doing it forever.

Next time you’re thinking about coming home at 4 am, DON’T.

Yesterday was bachelor party #1. (Yes, that’s right, he’s having 2– I’m sure at some point in the next 13 days we’ll get to that). And I’m going to be totally upfront about this: I was jealous. I am and really always have been “one of the boys.” Usually when there’s boy fun to be had, I’m front and center– often the one lady in the mix. I don’t know why that is exactly… I mean, I could surmise. I would say from a very young age I identified with the guys because that felt like the place of power. I was always wanting to compete with my brother, and father and therefore assumed a more masculine role. It has only been very recently, as a fully grown woman that I have realized and become more comfortable with power of my femininity and have begun embracing the watery feminine. But I’m still one of the boys.

I do of course understand that the idea of a bachelor party is that the dude who’s getting married is taking one last night and getting away from the ball and chain. My partner and I are just so far from that ball and chain dynamic… but I intellectually completely understood why I was not included in the bachelor party process. This did not keep me from feeling jealous about the whole thing, however.

It was fine, I was having a girly day of cupcake making with my favorite little lady. I dropped my partner off at his friend’s house around noon. The party was an all day affair. I told him to let me know if he needed me to pick him up. Then I went off to my baking adventures. I didn’t hear anything from my partner for the rest of the day.

Around 10 pm I was sitting on the couch writing about adventures in cupcakes with a rather foggy brain courtesy of those cupcakes, and I found myself wishing my sweet man were sitting next to me– or at least somewhere in close proximity. I texted a friend of ours who had been at the party earlier in the day and tagged out around 7:30 to do parenting duty. I asked him if he knew the evening’s itinerary, trying to gauge when I might expect my man home. He did not. I let it go and continued writing. Around midnight I realized that because of the wonder of daylight savings time, it was actually 1 am and I should probably hang it up and go to bed. I needed to wake up at 8 am the next morning to teach a class at 9 am. I considered texting him goodnight and then thought better of it. This was HIS night to be a bachelor and not have to be bothered by his lady. I figured that he would probably be staying over at his friend’s house at this point, his keys were hanging by the front door, and it was 1 am.

I gathered up the six pillows on our bed and made them into a nest just for ME and settled right into the middle of the bed. I read one page of the book I had just purchased for myself earlier in the day– and then settled to sleep quickly and easily. I slept soundly until I was awoken at 4:15 by the sound of the back door, which is right outside one of our bedroom windows. I bounded up out of bed instinctively, opened our bedroom door and saw the face of my love plastered up against the square window of our back door. I was in the middle of a deep sleep and bewildered at his 4:15 arrival. I opened the door, not really looking at him and immediately fell back into bed.

He didn’t come into our bedroom right away. I heard him moving through the house and then the sound of the shower turning on. I was no longer in a deep sleep. I was AWAKE. VERY AWAKE. He finished showering and came into our room, plopping into the bed next to me asking if I was awake. I grunted at him. I was not feeling conversational and was rather annoyed that he had risen me out of my 4:15 am slumber. He slung an arm across me and thirty seconds later was snoring like a buzz saw– louder than usual, and probably magnified by my annoyance. Several minutes into the saw symphony I attempted to roll over at which point he whined at me and tightened the grip with his arm. I was not feeling the warm and generous love that is so often in my heart for him. Rather, I was feeling annoyed and put out– and neither of those things was helping me fall back to sleep, not to mention the symphony of snores. I lay there for several more minutes and then said, “baby, you’re snoring really loud.”

He awoke for about fifteen seconds, shifted his position slightly and settled back into his symphony. I was done. I wriggled out from under his arm, grabbed two pillows, a big rose quartz stone, and my phone (alarm clock) then headed out to the couch in the living room, the one right underneath our constantly ticking, rings-every-30-minutes clock. I thought for a moment about stopping it and then decided against it. I arranged my two pillows, got two blankets and placed the rose quartz inside my shirt on top of my heart. I looked at my clock– it read 4:48 am. I rolled my eyes in annoyance and snuggled up and fell asleep immediately. I slept soundly, the chimes of the clock never waking me.

My alarm went off at 8 am and I awoke aware that I had dreams of conflict with my man, but unable to recall the details. I got up and gathered my pillows, knowing that he had no idea I had slept on the couch. I opened the door to our room and he opened his eyes. I looked at him and plopped the two pillows on the bed. I sat down on the bed and said (luckily he recalled my words perfectly and recounted them to me this evening) “Next time you’re thinking about coming home at 4 am, DON’T.” He said he wasn’t sure whether to giggle or look sheepish. He did the latter. I then told him he was snoring really loudly so I slept on the couch. I snuggled up to him, asked him if he had fun and if he wanted me to set an alarm for him to get up. I gathered my clothes and got myself ready for the day. I found his phone in his coat pocket, set the alarm for 10 am and set it next to his side of the bed before leaving. He was back to sleep, or at least pretending to be. I headed off to work.

I sent him a text when I finished working telling him I loved him. He responded “thank goodness” and then we proceeded with more silliness from there. When he got home in the evening we laughed about the events of the morning– he quoted my 4 am statement and then reenacted me opening the door for him, which was hilarious. He recounted the events of the night to me and told me that the one thing it was missing was Mandy Lou (that’s me). And I guess while that’s not something I needed to hear, it was really nice to hear it anyway.

My partner and I have a rare and special bond. He’s my very best friend. I relish the time I spend with him and most of the time we spend together is full of smiles and laughter. We are two fully formed, healthy adults who happen to enjoy each other’s company immensely, and are lucky enough to have figured that out.

In 13 days I’m gonna marry the crap out of him.

Chocolate is my favorite anyway…

In just 14 short days I can no longer call myself a single woman.

Today my 11 year old maid of honor and I had another adventure together– but for this adventure we didn’t even leave the comfort of our home. We donned our aprons and got down to baking wedding cupcakes! I am a DIY kinda girl, to a fault. My preference tends to be to do something myself if it’s humanly possible, (and most things are). So, while I am not crazy enough to make my own wedding cake– wedding CUPcakes are right up my alley.

About a month and a half ago my partner and I embarked upon the Whole 30 journey together. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the Whole 30– it’s basically a 30 day elimination diet in which you take all sweeteners, alcohol, dairy, peanuts, grains and processed foods out of your eating repertoire. In short, you eat a lot of meat, vegetables, fruits and nuts. It was a life-changing experience. Truly. We did it because the holidays were a little more over-the-top than usual this year– and it just felt like we needed a reset. It was all that and more. It really allowed me to examine and ultimately change my relationship with food. Food has for as long as I can remember been something that I’ve used to fill myself when I feel empty– regardless of what my physical body needs. It has been comfort as opposed to fuel. These 30 days of conscious eating really turned that on its head. My partner also had a similar experience. Long story short, we no longer have the desire to eat crappy food, and particularly at our wedding. So, instead of using the caterer we were going to use for our reception, we’re cooking! (of course) And we’re MAKING PALEO CUPCAKES!!

Last weekend was Phase 1 of the Paleo baking challenge, it having been the first time either of myself or my daughter had ever attempted any paleo baking. We googled paleo cupcake recipes– my original thought was we’d do a vanilla and a chocolate. The first recipe my eager little maid of honor found and decided she was in love with was of course neither, but strawberry shortcake. SO, we decided we would do chocolate, vanilla and strawberry shortcake.

We decided to make six of each so as not to have a glut of cupcakes on our hands and eagerly began our endeavor. We started with strawberry, worked our way to chocolate and ended with vanilla. The strawberry were made with almond flour and sank a bit in the middle, we made notes and came up with a game plan of what we needed to do differently. The chocolate had coconut flour, coconut milk and coconut oil and turned out a bit dry but had the MOST AMAZING frosting that was composed of simply: melted semi-sweet chocolate, cashew butter, coconut oil and vanilla. DIVINE. The vanilla were underwhelming. Not bad– but not something to write home about– and definitely not wedding-worthy. Just because we only ended up with 18 cupcakes, however does not mean that this was not a ridiculously time-consuming labor of love, because it was definitely that. Regardless though, we agreed to find a new vanilla recipe and reconvene the following week for more mother-daughter baking fun.

Phase 2 of the Paleo baking challenge began today going over our adjustments and getting our game plan down. We decided to maintain the same baking order starting with the strawberry which we decided to use freeze dried strawberries in this time around, as well as the food processor as opposed to our weird ninja blender which was a bit of a debacle during Phase 1. The batter was very different, much thicker but they turned out well. No sinking middles. We added a little more moisture to the chocolate, baked them for five minutes less. Hey, we’re really experienced paleo bakers at this point– we’ve got this all figured out. And last but not least our new vanilla recipe which used almond flour instead of coconut and came out of the oven seeming pretty awesome.

Then we got to the frosting making. Good lord. Paleo baking THREE different kinds of cupcakes and making THREE different kinds of frostings for said cupcakes is very time consuming and A LOT of work. Also, our kitchen is the size of a postage stamp with very little counter space. At one point my daughter was literally on the ground with the electric mixer making frosting because there was absolutely no where else for her to be. But, these are the things that make wedding adventures fun. We managed to push our way through all the way to the frosting being in the piping bags and my daughter putting together the gold cupcake stand that I had excitedly ordered from Amazon several weeks earlier AGAINST her approval. As she took it out of the box she said, “this is really pretty, I like it.” I reminded her she told me not to order it. “I know.” she said. Of course she knows.

When we finally got all of the cupcakes decorated (I’m not even going to get into the frosting-making debacles– it would take me until tomorrow)– we were well past hungry, having yet to eat dinner, and decided we would share one of each. We started with the strawberry, the frosting literally slid off the side of the cupcake as my daughter peeled off the paper. We each took a bite and agreed that it was better than last week– freeze-dried strawberries were the way to go– but we had some serious figuring to do with the frosting, and we didn’t really know where to start. Next we went for vanilla, we figured we knew we loved the chocolate, that’s why we made more of those really, to eat them. We both agreed the vanilla was an improvement over last week. There was a lack of enthusiasm in our reactions, however– like we were trying to convince ourselves of something… Then we got to the chocolate. mmmmmmmmmh was the satisfied hum from my daughter after biting in. “These are SO GOOD!!”

Now THAT sounds wedding worthy. “What if we just did the chocolate for the wedding?” I heard myself saying out loud. We both sat there and tried to convince ourselves of why that was a bad idea– and every reason we shot down immediately. And then I started thinking about making just ONE kind of cupcake and ONE kind of frosting (in addition to the entire dinner I’ll be making) and the concept of making three different kinds all of a sudden seemed absolutely LUDICROUS.

K. I. S. S.

Keep It Simple, Stupid.

I’m getting married 14 days from now and there is SO much to be done before that– and making three kinds of cupcakes is NOT going to be on that ridiculous list of mine. Because chocolate is my favorite anyway.