let me set the scene for you:
had just finished six days of jillian michael's thirty day shred. had eaten no junk. five small healthy meals a day for six days. i was not calorie counting…let's be serious. but still.
got on the scale and it didn't move.
eat one of the boys chocolate easter bunnies in anger.
(it was hollow at least.)
time to get ready for my dear friend's wedding.
getting dressed for a wedding seven weeks postpartum is a BLAST. can someone say spanx? and that the hose i bought might have been a little too tight and were constantly rolling down causing me to hoit them up? and that nothing else fits except the same outfit to that i wore last week on easter?
say it, people! loud and clear.
she takes a bottle but isn't always so great at finishing it…
we i thought what the heck? why not bring her?
we should have taken this (see below) as an i don't want to go to a wedding! warning while getting ready:
what are babies supposed to wear to a wedding? the thought of putting her a poofy dress or stockings makes me itch. ruffly sweater it is! also take note that the headband is slightly big and was continually laying across her eyes, like a mask, all night. people kept saying, um. her headband... to which i replied, i know. it's my attempt to make her look girly. i can't help that fact that it won't stay put.
friends from high school and youth group also frequently said, how many kids do you HAVE?! and what did you say her name was?
but let me not get ahead of myself because the excitement started much sooner than we arrived. can't find the address on the invitation and we are already driving. texting my friend to find it out, she can't find it. point out that we are on E and ask my husband just drive and get gas... he drives in the completely opposite direction that i would ever drive in to get gas. cue me saying i just don't understand why you would drive in this direction 46 times. call my mom and finally get the directions, cue me saying we are going to miss the ceremony, i just know it 32 times.
finally heading in the right direction and BOOM.
as i am saying, OH NO SHE (AND HER HEART SHAPED SUNGLASSES) DIDN'T. my husband, the grace giver (one of the many reasons i married you, babe), says she was really sorry and about to cry. there was no damage… let's be on our way. i say, in my finest moment, i would cry if i hit a mini van too. my neck hurts.
keep on pluggin' away.
arrive at the ceremony with not a minute to spare. rush in, sit in back.
the second the bride is about to walk down the aisle, story starts up. whining, crying and will.not.stop. not even when i stick my finger in her mouth. which probably had hair spray on it. sorry about that, story girl. she never sucks on my finger or a pacifier, it was just a last attempt. i look at caleb and can feel the blood rushing to my head. eyes bulging, clenched teeth. TAKE HER OUT OF HERE. i am mortified. makes it out just in time before the wailing begins.
i can still hear her faintly crying outside the doors. probably hungry again, nothing new.
switch spots with my hubby and have to walk outside past the huge windows of the church carrying my crying baby in higher heels than i should have worn. which, by the way, i only wore because my husband said they looked "baller" compared to the comfortable clodhoppers i wanted to rock. thanks, honey.
make it to the van and the two teenage boys who were directing people where to park are standing right outside of it. hello i have to nurse my child and it is hot out and i forgot the keys/diaper bag/anything in the church.
PTL that the van is unlocked and i proceed to attempt to nurse story without any airflow in a scorching vehicle and i start to break out in hives.
i'm opening the door, watch out everyone.
cover story's head, and my boob, with a pooped on changing pad cover from an explosion at jcpenney's earlier today. do not ask me why i had a changing pad cover in the car anyway cause i do not know.
miss my lifelong friend marry the girl of his dreams.
on ward to the reception!
girlfriend does NOT sleep. does not take the bottle, which i warmed in a tea pot of boiling water and cooled in a… oh wait. i won't tell you what i cooled it in just incase anyone from my table is reading my blog. mmmkay.
the rest of the night went a little something like this: spilled breast milk on my dress, spit up on my friend's dress, story missing both her socks, blasting music not sitting well with her. and so on and so forth. you get the idea.
next time? babysitter.