We are officially four months out from the epic Becker/Herby Wedding. Unbeknownst to me, four months is when wedding planning starts to get serious. It's the point of occasional panic attacks, unrealistic meltdowns, and not for those commitment-a-phobes among us. It's time to start nailing down the details and putting things into place.
Lately I've been feeling exhausted and overworked from all of the decision making that goes into wedding planning. I find myself wishing away the planning stages, hoping to just get to January 21 as quickly as humanly possible. Certain nights I come home from work and have done so much wedding planning during the day that I only have the energy for a glass of wine, a "Friends" marathon, and some mindless time on StumbleUpon. On one of these particular evenings I stumbled upon (I love a good pun) a study that recently found proof that we have a specific part of our brain that is responsible for decision making. This portion of our mind functions similarly to a muscle, and it turns out that our brains can actually get exhausted and overworked from making decisions. It gets tired, just like biceps or triceps or the under-toned parts of my body that Jillian Michaels frequently judges when I'm huffing and puffing in my living room trying to get "Ripped in 30 Days" (sidebar: it's been 90, and I am not even close to ripped).
I'm pretty sure that a bride-to-be conducted these studies.
Because this is me after a day of wedding errands . . .
At this point if someone were to ask me whether or not I wanted the bridesmaids to wear lime green fuzzy elephant suits I would give them two thumbs up and suggest a great tailor. Sometimes I think about how romantic and easy it would be to run away and elope. I'm going to Las Vegas next week, and I'm thinking about sneaking Tim on the plane and heading to the first chapel we see.
On second thought, maybe Vegas isn't the best idea.
But there's a reason (other than Mr. Ross and Mrs. Rachel) that stops me from canceling the entire gig and going it solo. This past weekend Tim and I attended the beautiful wedding of a good college friend in Wisconsin. As we were seated waiting for the ceremony to begin, I found myself looking around the room at all of the perfect details. There were gorgeous centerpieces, stunning bouquets, and perfectly written programs. It was then that I realized the next wedding Tim and I attend will be our own.
I thought about my friend, and how she must have felt when she was in my shoes, waiting to be the next to get married. I'm sure she was feeling exactly the way that I feel today. Tired, a little frustrated, extremely excited, and a little bit nervous. I'm sure she was wondering if it would all come together, and I'm sure she had a day where she thought she just couldn't make one more choice or send one more e-mail.
A moment later the doors opened and I saw my friend as a bride for the first time, standing with her father about to walk down the aisle. I had never seen her look so beautiful, or smile as big as she did as she looked down to aisle to her groom. It was a contagious feeling of extreme love and happiness. It was one of those moments of pure good and happiness that can only be found at a wedding.
All of a sudden I had a wedding-planning epiphany. It was something I'd heard from veteran brides but hadn't taken seriously. I finally realized that it doesn't matter. The little decisions and the little details don't matter. The millions of choices and the hundreds of e-mails aren't important. Because I know that in four months when I'm standing with my father, looking down the aisle at Tim, not one of these details are going to be on my mind. What's going to matter is the way that I feel, the look on Tim's face, and the love that radiates through the room the way it did this past Saturday.
It might be coming a little late, but I'm finally gaining a little bit of perspective. Everything will come together. Our guests won't know or care if there's something missing or a bit out of place. At the end of the day, what do I care more about? Is it that our guests talk about how we had cutest cake topper, or that Tim and I are a great match and incredibly in love? All of the little things truly will happen, and they will be great. And I finally feel like I can focus on what's truly important: marrying the man that I love, with the great support of all of our loved ones around us.