Well, several months ago, they asked my mother to be their wedding planner. Of course she said yes, and because I am continually her partner in various crimes, I came along as part of a Wedding Planner Extraordinaire Package. Which would have been fine and dandy--and in fact was for several weeks--if everything else hadn't been happening all at once last week.
Because the week before my brother's wedding was the week I had extra church activities to attend (and speak at, btw), a paper for Professor Picky McPickerson (you know the type..."Excellent work! Here's a B."), and late nights for my hubby at work.
Needless to say, I was stressed. I ran the kid to school, went to school myself to get some work done, had the dry cleaning to drop off and pick up, a tie to purchase, hair cuts, dance class, the ever-present need for grocery shopping, and oh yeah, I'd decided several months ago to get a cake for the rehearsal dinner and then decided about a month ago to just go ahead and make said cake rather than purchasing a pre-made number. What was I thinking? I felt like I was running up a down escalator, like I was getting nowhere. Fast.
So, here comes Thursday. I've got a ton to do and on top of it all, I also have to pack because we had to be at my folks' house late Friday night and early Saturday morning, so really, camping at their place made the most sense, and I still have this cake to conquer.
The last cake I made was my daughter's first birthday. She's five now. Ha! Murphy's Law is a big, fat, ho. For a while, it looked like the green beast was going to win (the wedding colors were various shades of green and purple, and my confection came out looking a bit like the Joker's cake, but it still worked). The layers wouldn't lay flat and once I'd spackled enough icing in the middle to level it out, I was lucky to have enough to actually ice the cake. I was near panic-mode, thinking I'd have to whip up a batch of butter cream to go with the 3 lbs I already had. The crumb coat was acting up and as I drew my icing knife across the delicate surface of the dessert, I whispered, "You will not win. You will not win."
Yes, I was talking to the cake, all while envisioning a Julie Powell-esque Cake Wreck as the end result. (Sorry, Julie, but you know) It did end up quite cute after all the freaking out, thankfully.
But, needless to say, after a day of running around like a chicken with its head cut off, finishing a cake, and getting school assignments submitted, I was exhausted and maybe a bit stressed.
Well, my darling husband was under lots of stress himself and a stressed out hubby in my home usually leads to a State of the Union-type couples pow-wow for some reason. Although I don't think it was a decision consciously made, it was a mistake. A BIG mistake. Because, I suddenly became THAT girl.
You know the one: she's stressed out and hormotional (word stolen from a friend, thank you! [i.e. hormomes + emotional = hormotional]). Yes, Aunt Flo decided to come for a visit with a vengeance this week (Of course. Murphy, I hate you.), so that didn't help, but I digress.
So, THAT girl--in this situation--gets stressed, hormotional, and one very small, unintentional, trivial thing sets her off. She then starts into a self-deprecating tailspin that eventually ends up in tears and about something completely unrelated to what the original (read: minor) discussion was about. Yep. That was me. Hot mess on Midol.
What did my wonderful hubby do? He held me, reassured me life was not spinning out of control, literally listed off all of my "amazing" [he's biased] qualities, and told me to stop apologizing when I'd said "Sorry" for the umpteenth time for transforming into THAT girl (and I'm hardly ever THAT girl). He said I should do that more often, although he knows I won't because I'm not that emotional on a regular basis, so I'm sure he felt safe in making such a ludicrous suggestion. But, I think this proves yet again how fantastic he really is.
Busy Friday dawned bright and things were better. Busy Friday was followed by Insanely Hectic Saturday, and after the bride and groom made their escape, I'd really felt like I'd been through the trenches, and the amazing people who helped me and Mom pull off this crazy feat now felt like comrades-in-arms after all the purple die-covered fingers from making flower arrangements to Super Glue adventures, and various other snafus. And as a strange sense of accomplishment fell over me, I realized I was a different sort of THAT girl: one who can wrangle Pugs and kids and bridesmaids and still come out standing (sort of) on her uber-sore, platform high heel wearing feet.
It was a feeling of, in a word: SUCCESS!!
Oh, and here's my cake:
What do you think? ...anyone? ...Bueller?
That's a way cute cake!! They way you writing about it, I thought it would be terrible but that looks A-MAZING!! I think we've all had those weeks and embarrassingly enough, been THAT girl! Hope this next week is better.
ReplyDeleteI love the cake!! I am THAT girl most of the time - the hormotional one, not the cool one. So...do what you want me to do and go easy on yourself and realize that you do, in fact, kick total butt.
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