Surrounded by my closest friends and family, equipped with a hairstylist to Pittsburgh's glitterati and a stunning make up artist who I prayed to look like, fueled by nerves, emotion, and the high I got from a 6 mile run at 8:00 AM, I dedicated hours of my life to becoming beautiful.
I had done a practice hair session a couple weeks ago, so the day of, my expectations were set. There would be volume, body, shine, height, and a soft curl. It was all that and more - my hair looked great. My skin, cursed with an outbreak of adult acne, needed a miracle. And the super pretty make up girl produced just that, masking my massive cheek pimple with all her might, giving me the glow and sparkle of a girl in love. The dress fit perfectly - it was sheer glamour. I slipped my Manolos on, turned to those around me to cash compliments into confidence, and headed to the limo.
On the other side of town, Peter and his posse were getting ready as well. It was 93 degrees out, and with black tuxedos, their main objective was to stay cool. Unfortunately, on the way to Church their limo broke down, forcing them to walk the rest of the way to a non air conditioned church, where no doubt, they all continued to sweat bullets while trying to look like Bond.
Peter and I met at the Altar, an incredible moment in time when my Dad gave my hand to my husband with a congregation of loved ones looking on. I was ready. So was he.
We walked out of Mass eager to start a life together, accepting of the potential children to come. But in the near term, we were just excited to drink a lot of champagne and dance at the Fairmont.
***
Today, I spent about 15 minutes getting ready for our Anniversary date. That was actually generous. Typically, I run out the door with a wet head cause I don't have the full 15 to spare. While I haven't spent the kind of time or energy primping as I did for our wedding in quite some time, much of my life is still about preparation. But the majority of the time, I'm getting other people ready, namely my kids as they headed back to school.
A couple weeks ago, Mary started back as a first grader, complete with a new school uniform. Last week, it was Bobby's turn. And for an hour every morning, I've been doing a lot to get them out the door.
Starting around 7:00, I set up a breakfast and lunch making station. Butter toast, sprinkle it with cinnamon, pour milk, and arrange plates around the kitchen table. I then tailor lunches to fit the various preferences of the kids. Peanut butter and jelly for Bobby, turkey for Mary. Baggies of fruits, veggies and chips nestled into the bag, four Hershey Kisses tucked away at the bottom. I fill water bottles and put them in backpacks.
I make sure all the papers labeled 'back to school' are in their folders properly signed and executed. I browse the school bulletin and the teachers' websites to make sure I'm not forgetting anything.
I help them get dressed. Pinning their hair into place. Tucking in shirts. Tying up shoes. Making sure teeth are brushed, beds are made, jammies are down the laundry chute.
I tell them to eat every last thing on their plates. I fix hair one last time. I tell them to be to be good, kind, safe, smart. Then I put their little back packs on, escort them to their bikes and revolution by revolution make it down the driveway, down the street, across the tracks, and to their school.
I help them lock up their bikes and proudly watch them walk in together.
I linger a little bit, wishing there was something more for me to do. I've put so much into their readiness, and now I guess I just wait and wish and hope. I look down at Margaret who desperately wants to walk through the doors to school as well, and realize, there's plenty more to do at home.
The same kind of preparation and send off goes into other activities as well. And generally speaking, nothing happens as easily as I just wrote it. Any morning can be met with a meltdown. Any choice of outfit can be countered with a right of refusal. Transportation is negotiable. And generally speaking, my blood pressure tends to creep up as we get closer and closer to being late. But I truly love it. Getting the kids acquainted this school year has been a highlight of my time off from work, and I will dearly miss picking them up when I go back next week.
***
Looking through my wedding pictures the past couple days, I found this one. Our two moms, lighting the unity candle, embracing while dropping their kids off one last time, a lifetime of making sure their loved ones were ready to go behind them.
It was a joyful moment, but as a Mom, I'm sure it was bittersweet. I feel that so much of my calling as a parent is about preparing my kids for their days. I know I'm doing a good job when they take successful steps away from me, gaining maturity and independence with experience. But it's sometimes hard to let go - to trust that they are truly ready - to place their young lives into the hands of another - to know that my time of influence is up.
I think on our wedding day, our Moms knew we were both ready, we surely looked the part. And I thank them, and our Dads for giving us away, backed with a lifetime of love that led us to the altar.
Lo.
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