Wedding Weekend Havoc

I just can't believe how much goes into making it look like you've got it all together. Trevor's cousin is getting married tomorrow, and it's only about an hour from our house, coincidentally and mercifully, because this post would be way bigger if it were near his hometown or current city of residence. 

Anyway, the wedding is tomorrow. That means that Trevor's brother and sister-in-law are in town with their daughters. So today was the perfect day to celebrate cousin Annie's birthday, which was yesterday, and sister-in-law Stephanie's birthday, also yesterday (Sunday we'll celebrate brother Jason's birthday, which is next week. I digress). So we skip Marta's first nap to be there on time, have fun-fun-fun with cousins and family, load up on sugar (me included, of course, which is awesome for my wedding outfit, pulled together from random shirts that allow me to nurse that my mom brought up north on her last visit and an old skirt I'm pretending still fits and a pair of waaay too high heels that Trevor won't let me return because, I'm sure, they remind him of the days when I was sexy) and head home -- still no real naps happening. Trevor comes home to shower and change, since he's playing guitar in the wedding and has to head out to the rehearsal tonight. Since the sleeping was shady today I'm emboldened by the idea of early bedtimes and get Marta bathed (Berit will have to wait until tomorrow) and both girls in jammies by 7 p.m. We go for a quick walk, which was actually Marta riding in the frontpack, me pulling Mosey along, and Berit riding on my leg, because various neighborhood dogs are out and apparently may attack her at any moment. We get home and I fish through Berit's closet for something suitable for her to wear at the wedding (matching shoes are not an option) and since Marta's fussy, plop Berit in her bed with a stack of books and tell her to go to sleep. Shockingly, she throws a fit because she doesn't want to go to sleep. Big argument, lots of drama, me very blind to the fact that she didn't get a bath, put her jams on before heading back outside, came in and had no reading, no singing, no praying, just bed. Of course she's upset! Unfortunately I realize all of this as I'm rocking Marta to sleep, and decide to go up and apologize to her as soon as Marta's down and sing to and cuddle Berit. But when I get up there, she's sound asleep, and even though I want to wake her up and tell her I love her, I of course don't and just turn off her light.

I go downstairs and find literally six loads of laundry waiting to be washed and one needing folding. I decide that I'd better paint my toenails and buff my fingernails now, because Lord knows I won't be able to do it tomorrow (He knows this mostly because He's watched me walk around with the same chipped toenail polish for the entire summer. Gross, I know). 

As I write this I'm realizing that it doesn't sound much like all of the drama today is because of the wedding. It isn't, really; it's just the way our life is. I suppose I feel like it's the wedding because I'm just not ready mentally for it -- no gift has been purchased, I'm ashamed to admit, no real wedding outfit is going to be worn (just something that works), etc. 

We're also waiting to hear about how a couple likes our house, after three (!) showings. Our Realtor told me yesterday that we'd probably know within 24 hours, and it's been far more, and I'm antsy and convinced they hated it. 

On the flip side, Marta has started clapping and it's adorable. Now she does it whenever I say "Yay!" or someone does something that makes her really happy. It's so funny to see her expressing her feelings in other ways than crying or smiling. She also points, which is awesome, because she'll point to a dog and say "Dah-gy" or me and say "Mamamamam." I love it.

Berit has been hilarious, making ridiculously funny comments constantly since the moment she turned 2 1/2 last month. Her observations are startlingly intelligent: "Mom, who lives in all of these houses?" "Hm. We don't know these people." "But what are their names?" "I don't know. What do you think?" "No Mom, not for pretend. Who are they in those houses?"

On our walk: "Mom, let's pretend we're having a stogie." (Yes, I wrote stogie.) "No, we don't even pretend we smoke stogies, Berit." "No Mom, I want to share my stogie with you. Here." "No Berit, we don't pretend that." "Here Mom, take a stogie. Can you give me a stogie? Can you?" "How about candy? Why don't we pretend to share candy?" "OK Mom, let's just pretend something."

A few days back: "Oh Mom, you need to paint your toenails. They aren't pretty anymore."

And off I go.