Don't bite off more Wedding Cake and Film than you can Chew

 I attended a wedding this week. I use the term "attended" loosely, as to be truthfully honest about the past two days I couldn't tell you what the decor looked like, what the food tasted like, what the cake tasted like, or who exactly was even there for the most part. 

I'm a mother. Anyone who has ever attended a wedding with two small children on a beach, you may have some idea what I am insinuating. 

Now, add in the fact that one of your children is autistic, one is the ripely-defiant age of 20 months, that Daddy was Best Man and that Mommy AND Daddy were the photographers.

Ha ha ha ha.

Lets just say it was a setup for my anxiety and emotions to explode like an atom bomb. 

Which, incidentally, it did. 

You see, for weeks I've had that annoyingly sticky-butterfly feeling in my stomache because I had to dust of my Nikons after a two year hiatus and shoot what is considered one of the possibly most important days in any woman's life: Her dream wedding.

My brother, the groom, requested that I, his little sister, do the staged photography for his wedding months ago when they were engaged. I was flattered, *blush*, and nervous. But, hey- I only have one brother and I'm the last person to say no to someone I love in my family. I would make it work. 

Six months later, I am currently in a 'stage' of motherhood where even grocery shopping or visiting family brings my stress level to a hot level of 105 degrees.  The past three months in the Sufficient household I am barely surviving days at home with my kids. Let alone a 3+ hr drive, a hotel stay, a beach, a very delayed wedding, a preoccupied set of parents, and unquestionably THE worst question being asked that strikes depression and sadness into any mother or woman alive. 

I survived my pre-wedding months of anxious perceived possibilities of what could go wrong. I survived a week of stressful packing, 101 lists I finally checked complete three minutes before jamming my Rav4 with everything but the kitchen sink. I survived the drive with Mr. G and Mr. A and little Mr. G, and the hotel for the first night. 

Not unscathed, mind you- but I hadn't had a meltdown. I hadn't cried. 

I was excited and pumping myself up; Thrilled about my new dress and my makeup and my new necklace and meeting people and having fun. 

So I hoped, anyway. 

Wedding Day- I woke up stressing over painting my nails, taking a shower, getting dressed and packing the diaper bag with anything my kids would need. 

Snacks. Check. Diapers and pull-ups. Check. Water. Check. (Nope still forgot it) cameras charged. Check. 

I did my hair proudly, I even "Pinterested" a cute hairstyle that required me, a mom of two who never uses anything but a standard hair band for a ponytail- to buy bobby pins and small invisible ties- something I hadn't used since, *omg* my own wedding nine years ago. 

Fact is, I really should have pulled on my comfy jeans and focused on clearing my cameras and letting my kids chill at the hotel watching the Disney channel. 

After we all rushed (and I mean, frantically threw things in bags and left the hotel pre-nap for the littlest monkey) at 2:22pm to meet the tentative photoshoot time of 2pm, we not only got lost finding it, (which was almost a good thing because Little Mr. G snuck in a 30 minute nap we then disturbed) we ended up spending the next 3 hrs in a parking lot by the beach (sans restroom) eating tic-tacs, Gerber puffs, and completely depleting what I call "okay time" for kids. 

You know- where kids have the "where are we?!" and "this is awesome and everything is great!" stage. 

Nope. "Okay time" came and went, and there was no bride, no wedding, no water (damn my packing faux pas) and yeah, still no restroom. 

I managed meltdowns, lost a kid (for 3-5 minutes), one kid got naked in my brothers car, kids locked themselves IN my brothers car, kids ran in opposite damn directions a dozen times, I huffed, I puffed, I chased, I sighed, I realized I hadn't peed in 3 hours, I changed diapers with much resistance and tears, and I trekked a very treacherously difficult sand-covered beach hill too many times. 

I was done. My kids were done. My hair was loose and falling from it's pins (thanks, Pinterest) my makeup was sweated and wiped away, my mascara was running, I was dehydrated, and my new dress was dirty. 

Guess what? 

The wedding hadn't even started yet. 

Almost three hours after my kids and I arrived at the ceremony site (parking lot/hill/ beach) - They and mommy/photographer were emotionally DONE.

Daddy-photographer was at the hotel with the bridal party taking pre-photos. I missed him, the Littles missed him, and I was in serious need of someone to bitch to about how horribly awful I felt. 

At last- sometime after 5pm the bride was en-route. The menagerie of guests and family mingling in the parking lot finished their tail-gate beers and had a last smoke, fixed their lipstick (not Me- as I was still chasing one Little down to put sandals back on and trying without success to get either if them to drink at least a pediasure since neither kid had eaten in hours). 

Or had I, for that matter. 

We tackle the sand-hill/horse path onto the beach again ( my legs are sore because I'm carrying a 35lb kid again and my broken toe is f**king THROBBING), where I yet again chase my youngest around the ceremony site and prevent him from trying to touch all the food on the blankets for guests (grapes! He wanted All the grapes) and meanwhile try to set up my cameras for the wedding party entrance (I prayed would be any. Second. Now.) and the ultimate mood killer occurred.

I know what you're thinking. "She's been chasing her unruly kids around for hours. Her makeup is gone, her hair looks awful, her dress is dirty, her legs and feet hurt, her kids are borderline-meltdown-done." What is left???!!"

Oh, it gets worse. 

As I'm convincing my littlest to sit with Grandpa and eat grapes (the damn grapes!!!) and eyeballing my four-yr-old who is in the far distance with, bless her heart and soul: Good friend Michelle who took him for a walk away from the overwhelming people and ceremony before he completely lost his mind in an autistic meltdown that MAY have done me in for good; 

Someone asks me, ankle deep in soft sand, beach wind blasting us in the face (and my dress blown against what I already view as a very uncomfortable body that I carry an extra 40lbs post-kid on), "When are you due?"

Hold the phone, drop the ball, give me a fucking pillow to scream into. 

I was done. It took every fiber of my being, convincing myself to not lose it- not cry, not meltdown, not just walk off that damned beach and never come back. 

I wanted my jeans and my hoodie and a hired babysitter at that moment. 

Or, to be anywhere but on the brink of the biggest photography job I had ever done, with two overtired, hungry toddlers and, apparently a dress that I once loved that didn't hide my recent weight gain even remotely well enough to prevent awkward, heart-killing questions. 

I hovered over my sand-filled camera bag, trying to figure out if I wanted to dump it now or later (pretending I wasn't fat) and blinking behind my sunglasses to prevent tears, I almost lost it, my friends. 

I really did. 

Instead, over three hours after we strangely 'rushed' to the ceremony site, I darted around that square quarter mile of beach for half an hour and took pictures of the bride. The groom. The party. The guests. The vows. The tears. The flowers. The dogs. The smiles. The laughter. 

(Feeling like a whale in my dress, mind you. Self-confidence=shot)

I kept it together. This wasn't about me. 

My youngest (ring bearer) reached and wailed and cried for me countless times. ( Grampa, my daddy, was a dear. He traded him back and forth from daddy. Sigh. I felt so weird, mommy couldn't help) 

I hopped and knelt and ducked and weaved around that beach shooting from every angle, two cameras dangling from my neck, swapping them and zooming and, well.... doing what I was there to do.

Ceremony ended; I stayed behind while Mr. G corralled our cranky kids to the parking lot and drive in circles for an hour+ around the parking lot until 7pm while I wandered the beach in my "maternity" dress taking 400 or so photos of the bride, groom, and wedding party. (Yes, Mr. G popped down for a couple photos, before you wonder.)

Then, I found my sandals in the sand, packed my sand-filled camera bag on my shoulder and made (praise The Lord) my final thigh-burning escapade over the hill of doom and sinking sand to the now-empty parking lot. 

My kids fell asleep in the car on the short drive to the reception. Exhausted little men.

I 'missed' the reception. I sat on the concrete by my car as my kids slept, grateful to sit on my tired ass for the first time since I woke up that day. 

Someone brought me a beer. (A couple, actually) I heard speeches in the distance as Mr. G and the wedding party made their toasts. Applause. Music. Laughter. I sat alone and picked sand out of my toes and watched the trees move.

Sweet calm silence. 

Someone traded with me to go walk up to the reception an hour or so later, after my parents and Michelle and her husband Tyler (my hero who "found" my oldest when he vanished on me in a group of people 'helping me' as I fought a screaming baby into a new diaper through a tantrum.) and also Mr. G, my supportive and understanding husband, had all visited and we laughed a bit.

We shuffled around by my car and talked and laughed.

(That was the highlight of my day, actually. Talking with my closest souls in this world - over a beer, barefoot, as they came and went from the reception to see me in the "sleeping kid area" of the parking lot. )

And the reception? I had half a beer there.

 I meandered up after being urged, reluctantly in search of food...then..... resumed shooting photos. No idea where that beer went, actually. (That's a shame, isn't it?!)

I wanted food. Or cake. Who doesn't want cake?!!! Oh well. 

Shortly after, my parents, each carrying a very sleepy, tired, cranky boy (they woke up! surprise surprise!) came wandering up- about 20 minutes later?maybe 15? Who knows. 

Aaaaaand the party for me (whoopedeedoo) was over. 

We trudged back to the car, our poor kids reluctant to get back into their car seats ("AGAIN? Really??!!" Their sad eyes seemed to say) and we picked up some KFC (I hadn't eaten since noon) and we dragged ourselves to our hotel room. 

I again shared the turmoil with Mr. G as we coerced the strung out Littles to "stay off the windowsill!" "Get out of the microwave!" "Leave the drapes alone!", "Don't hit your brother!" And so forth, after I scarfed down some chicken, until midnight. 

I woke up at 3am with anxiety. I cried until 5:30am. Sweet relief. It is over. 

I should have worn my jeans. There is no photographic proof I was there. I wasn't in one photo. I didn't meet a soul. I was too busy running around after kids or photo opportunities. I wasted my hair style and my makeup and my excitement- because no one will remember me except the person who will be embarrassed for months that she asked a non-pregnant lady when her due date was. 

So, in sum. 

If anyone I know ever gets married and wishes to invite me to their vows?

 If you want to have the photographic brilliance  of JustK Photography(lol...I tease): I must be a photographer with a financial bill that will cover my bring-along babysitter, or I shall be a guest, and watch my kids or leave them home, or I will be a mommy who stays home and sends a "congrats, You're Hitched!" Card from the safety of my couch. 

Don't even ask me to be mommy, sister to the bride/groom/friend, plus photographer and be a guest. 

Those things are in-overlapable. Fact and point, lesson learned. No thanks. I cannot do it. 

Or, I can. But, I just won't enjoy it. And I will end the day partially insane.

I am blessed, I am thankful, but I am mostly thankful and blessed that it is over and I could cry it all out and wipe my eyes and know I will NEVER do that again.

Ever. For me or my kids. Everrrrrrr! Ha ha ha

----

Huge congrats to my brother and my new sister (yahoo!) whom I both love immeasurably. The fact I completely missed their wedding in spirit and fun is not on them. 

You live and learn, and I have learned...you can't be more than you can be and come out without a 3am tearfest! 

Silver lining? I am DAMN proud of the photos. They are AWESOME! Photographer me for the mtjrfukkin win!!

I survived, right? Everything has a price and you always learn. 

Don't bite off more than you can chew. 

Don't dress up for a wedding when you're watching toddlers for hours on a beach when you're also the photographer. 

And- DON'T ask someone when their baby is due- you just might ruin their entire week and damn near ruin someone's wedding album. 

But, "I" already knew that last one. Did you?

;)

...

Sm

P.s. 

Thousands of kudos to all who helped me. And a thousand kudos to my sister and brother who trusted me (and Mr. G) with capturing one of THE most important days of their lives. I pray they are satisfied. I pray... Cos it sure as damn skippy better be worth what I just went through.