I, Mary, take you, John...

I'm back! Whew! I think I am sufficiently recovered from my brother in-law's wedding to get back to my regular life. Between all the planning, packing and primping - OK, and drinking - it's taken me three days to get back on my feet.

It was an awesome wedding and, as you will recall, my husband and I are wedding enthusiasts. We love weddings because, as my now-sister in-law commented, it reminds us of our own which was equally as amazing and fun with the added benefit of getting hitched to our best pal. This wedding was no different and we spent the majority of the evening making goo-goo eyes at each other and playing grab-ass while we slow danced. Being intimately involved in this wedding, (I was a bridesmaid and my hubby was the best man) I realized with all the rehearsing and planning what truly is the best part of any wedding - the mistakes. And while this wedding went off relatively glitch-free, I was reminded of all the goofy little things that happened the day we got married that made it memorable - and amazingly the world didn't end. In fact, I remember being oddly calm about most of them and actually laughing at some.

The first of these mishaps was a week in the making. My sister, and maid of honor, was twenty-one at the time, and shall we say, a little unorganized. One week before the wedding she still hadn't had her dress altered and fearing I might do her bodily harm, finally took it to the local dry cleaner to have a simple hem and sleeve alteration done. She picked her dress up the day before the wedding and all was well. Until it was time to get dressed. My bridal party, all eight of them, apparently I thought I was Princess Di, was getting dressed in my suite. I was busily applying eyeliner when I hear, "Oh NO." I look over and my sister is trying to put her dress on - unsuccessfully - for the first time since she picked it up. I look away before I can see the extent of the damage and say to the room at large, "I don't care what's wrong, just please fix it." Apparently, one of the arm holes had been reduced to the diameter of a paper towel roll. My fast-thinking bridal party slit the sleeve under the armpit and used safety pins to hold it together giving my sister instructions to keep her arms down during the church. The pictures are hilarious - she looks completely normal on one side and like the Incredible Hulk on the other.

Then the antique Hudson we rented for hubby and myself arrived and instead of one driver we had two. Well actually, it was the guy's wife. This was the first time he had done this kind of gig - he just had this car and we found him online. He said he'd wear a suit, we said we'd pay him two hundred bucks and we signed on the line. He didn't say his daughter was getting married and his wife wanted to tag along to do some field research. Now, this kind of car has no privacy divider so it was going to be awkward enough ignoring this guy as he drove us, never mind trying to ignore his wife who was wearing a canary yellow pants-suit, by the way. But when he pulled up and asked me, "did I mind?", what was I going to say? "Yeah, I do. Ditch Big Bird on the side of the road and step on it"? Besides, she was so nice and seemed so happy for me I didn't mind her nervous chatter taking my mind of my own nerves on the way to the church. And afterwards, my hubby and I actually had fun with them as people honked and waved at us.

The mass. Oh where do I begin? How about with the fact that my dad guilted me into having a full Catholic mass by tossing out phrases that included the words "rolling" "grave" and "your mother"? This is the same man who I would later come to find out was handing out Tic Tacs to my bridesmaids during communion. I guess he never said he wanted the mass. Also, before I even walked down the aisle hubby's middle brother comes sprinting down the side aisle waving frantically for me to STOP! Apparently, we had forgotten all about the runner which my other two brothers in-law were racing to drag down the aisle like psychotic carpet layers.

Other moments that fall under "Greatest Hits" all pretty much involve the very elderly priest who had just taken the red-eye from Israel to marry us. He married my parents and it meant a lot to us so I am going straight to hell for telling this story. First, my best friend was having an aneurysm about reading the prayer I had written for my mother without falling apart. No worries. He completely forgot about it and didn't see her doing the "Jack in the Box" trying to decide whether to go up and read without being announced or just forget it. She chose the later and I don't blame her. During the exchanging of rings he called my husband by the wrong name and I loudly corrected him. Priest: "John, take this ring." Me: "HUBBY, take this ring." Then, we think we are out of the woods and all that's left is for my sister to read "An Irish Blessing" in honor of my mom and he forgets - again! So I shoot my sister the death stare and whisper "I don't care what he does. You get up there and get on that mike!" So just as he is about to do the whole "announcing for the first time" business my sis shouts in to the mike, "AN IRISH BLESSING!" He gets a confused look on his face and then remembers through the fog of sleep deprivation and senility that this was, indeed, the plan and sits down for a little snooze.

There were also funny moments no one, but us, new about. Me trying to put my husband's ring on the wrong hand, him actively trying to pull his hand away from me, me giving him the death stare, him whispering, "Wrong hand!", me feeling like an idiot. Then the both of us whispering during Eucharist, "How long do you think we have to kneel here?" since we were the first ones served and neglected to go over this detail with Priest McGoo. And, yeah, it was a piece of the BIG wafer - I know you're jealous! It still tasted like crap. Is that bad to say about the body of Christ?

There were other little things that happened, but my point is, mistakes happen at every wedding, no matter how carefully planned. The best story I ever heard was of my own parent's wedding where my mother fell flat on her ass while being introduced at the reception. Sure, she cried out of embarrassment, but my dad picked her up as he did each time she fell until the day she died. That was their first act of marriage and I think it's incredible. The majority of my wedding went off without a hitch, but you know what? I think if it hadn't we still would have enjoyed ourselves. We were too busy being ridiculously, over the moon, elated to be married. Society, in general, promotes this ideal of the perfect wedding and we all buy into it giving ourselves ulcers trying to plan the perfect day. But there is no perfect day and it's the imperfections that, in fact, make the day your own. So enjoy the mistakes, they are the stories you will tell your children. Just make sure someone scuffs your shoes.