Yesterday, while in the locker room at the gym, I was listening to a group of women talk and laugh as if they were old friends reminiscing about the days gone by. I couldn't help but think of my group of close friends and how we might behave when we are older and living a more relaxed lifestyle. I'm sure we will be laughing about the days of toddler hood that our children are going through, or maybe we will be planning our umpteenth cruise for that year. Perhaps we will be planning our girls night out for a Tuesday night instead of a Friday or Saturday. Or maybe we will be singing and dancing to the oldies like Madonna, Justin Timberlake or ABBA; nevertheless, I'm sure we will NOT be doing it in the nude!
As I was listening to these women I couldn't help but look up in comparing them with what my future holds with my girlfriends. The instant I glanced up all my dreams for the future were erased when I came face to face with two breasts bouncing with laughter. There is an unspoken rule when you are in the locker room to always look down. Why didn't I follow this rule? How did I let my daydreams get so carried away that I found myself staring at a group of women with towels hanging off of them. By hanging, I mean off their shoulders, around their waists or on their heads. I was like a deer in headlights caught in the rays of two luminous beams of light. As hard as I tried not to, and as much as I didn't want to, I looked. Not just at one woman, but the whole group of naked flesh. Unfortunately, that is a memory that will stay with me forever.
I feel extremely comfortable around my group of girlfriends. There are things we discuss that I could never imagine talking to anyone else about. But there is one thing I could never picture us doing and that is sitting around in a group having a lively discussion while in our birthday suits. So this poses the question: is this a generational thing or a comfort issue? At this present moment I am not comfortable sitting around talking about the days events in the nude; however, in 40 years will things change? Will I be so comfortable with my body that talking in the nude will be no different than talking while fully clothed? Or, will I just be too old to care anymore? On the other hand, did my generation grow up to be more reserved while earlier generations always showered together in the locker room? I guess only time will tell. If in forty years I'm sitting in a locker room with my friends talking about the days events I'll know the answer. Of course, I may be the one sitting in the stall by myself trying to put on my housecoat and stockings while the others are laughing away endlessly. I have noticed that those dressing or undressing in the stalls are not filled with belly laughs like the other women. Maybe those who are more reserved are the ones who are really missing out?
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
Looking the Part
At what point in time do we as woman stop telling others our age? When I was in my early twenties I use to shout it from the roof tops. In my later twenties I was only yelling it out the window, nevertheless, most of society was still aware of my age. But as of lately I try to hide from the truth which is: I will never see my twenties again! I will never look, feel or act like I did in my twenties; not that I want to, I'm too old and tired now.
Was it having children or just hitting the big 3-0 that changed me from loudmouth to mums-the- word? In all honesty 30 didn't bother me. Maybe that's because I had a 7 week old and I was too tired to care. But 31, now that was a killer. At 31 I was officially in my thirties. I had a thirteen and a half month old daughter and I was nine months pregnant with my second daughter, so my emotions were a little more elevated than usual. This may have been the reason 31 hit me so hard. No, I think it's the fact that I was in my thirties.
At 31 so many things changed for me. I'm not sure if my age was written on my forehead but I went from "Thank you Miss" to "can I help you carry your bags to your car MAM?" Once you become a "mam" there is no turning back. No one will ever call you Miss again. First it's your server at a restaurant, next it's the cashier at the grocery store and before you know it everyone is calling you "mam."
Next came the aches, pains, and questionable skin marks. To accompany these new ailments there were new doctors, surgeries and physical therapists. I did feel more lively at the physical therapist though. Everyone else was three times my age. Excuse me, that was incorrect. They were only twice my age. Wow, how ten years changes things. Even my memory has faded.
In my twenties I hated being asked for identification when purchasing alcohol. I felt so juvenile. Now that I'm in my thirties I would love for someone to ask for my identification. I shop at the local grocery store where they ask everyone who purchases alcohol for their ID. They say they ask everyone to cover themselves legally; however, I think the person who made up this rule did so in order for the older generation to feel better about themselves physically so you would spend more money. It's working. I shop there just for the complement. Yet, I'm still waiting for the day when the cashier says to me: "wow, you look great for your age!" Will this day ever come?
What began my thoughts on this topic is when someone actually guessed my age today. I was a gasp. Not at the fact that she was discussing my age, but at the fact that she could tell how old I am. I thought I was aging fairly well. I thought I looked a few years younger than I actually am, putting me somewhere in my late twenties, at least that's how old my magic mirror makes me look. One of my close friends recently told me that I look like I'm in my mid-twenties. Now I know she's just being kind.
So when is it that we stop telling others our age? My conclusion: it's when we actually look our age, or worse yet, even older!
Was it having children or just hitting the big 3-0 that changed me from loudmouth to mums-the- word? In all honesty 30 didn't bother me. Maybe that's because I had a 7 week old and I was too tired to care. But 31, now that was a killer. At 31 I was officially in my thirties. I had a thirteen and a half month old daughter and I was nine months pregnant with my second daughter, so my emotions were a little more elevated than usual. This may have been the reason 31 hit me so hard. No, I think it's the fact that I was in my thirties.
At 31 so many things changed for me. I'm not sure if my age was written on my forehead but I went from "Thank you Miss" to "can I help you carry your bags to your car MAM?" Once you become a "mam" there is no turning back. No one will ever call you Miss again. First it's your server at a restaurant, next it's the cashier at the grocery store and before you know it everyone is calling you "mam."
Next came the aches, pains, and questionable skin marks. To accompany these new ailments there were new doctors, surgeries and physical therapists. I did feel more lively at the physical therapist though. Everyone else was three times my age. Excuse me, that was incorrect. They were only twice my age. Wow, how ten years changes things. Even my memory has faded.
In my twenties I hated being asked for identification when purchasing alcohol. I felt so juvenile. Now that I'm in my thirties I would love for someone to ask for my identification. I shop at the local grocery store where they ask everyone who purchases alcohol for their ID. They say they ask everyone to cover themselves legally; however, I think the person who made up this rule did so in order for the older generation to feel better about themselves physically so you would spend more money. It's working. I shop there just for the complement. Yet, I'm still waiting for the day when the cashier says to me: "wow, you look great for your age!" Will this day ever come?
What began my thoughts on this topic is when someone actually guessed my age today. I was a gasp. Not at the fact that she was discussing my age, but at the fact that she could tell how old I am. I thought I was aging fairly well. I thought I looked a few years younger than I actually am, putting me somewhere in my late twenties, at least that's how old my magic mirror makes me look. One of my close friends recently told me that I look like I'm in my mid-twenties. Now I know she's just being kind.
So when is it that we stop telling others our age? My conclusion: it's when we actually look our age, or worse yet, even older!
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Impact
Just prior to turning three years old my oldest daughters behaviors started to take a turn for the worst. She began to challenge every direction that my husband and I gave her, she was intolerable of her sister and she broke any and every rule in order to get attention. I know we will go through periods of turmoil and adjustment as my children grow, which is understandable; however, it was the look that she gave to my husband and I as she was challenging us. The look as if she just out-witted us and the realization that she's in control of her own body. Time-out became pleasurable for her, taking toys away for negative behavior became a game of willpower and good old fashion guilt didn't even phase our three year old. We were at a complete loss but we knew we just had to keep riding out the storm. We knew that her negative behaviors couldn't last forever and thankfully they only lasted a couple of weeks. Yet, when you are in the middle of such rough waters it really does fee like eternity.
After experiencing this bought of defiance many people began to warn us that the third year is much rougher than the second; however, I have grown to love this stage of my daughters life. She is more aware of how her behaviors affect the people around her and she strives to make others happy. I guess guilt did work after all. Just recently I found her comforting her younger sister when she was upset. She would hug her, tell her she loved her, stroke her arm and say "it's okay" over and over again. It's beautiful to see your children being so tender and nurturing to one another. It is then that one realized that they really have done something right in raising their children.
One of the most generous signs of compassion came from my three year old last week. We had returned from a fun afternoon of play at an indoor gym when I realized I had lost ten dollars. I was disappointed in the loss and expressed my concern out loud, in front of my daughter. She responded "it's okay mom." I tried to explain that it wasn't really bad but it wasn't good either to lose the money. After our conversation she walked downstairs to the family room where her toy cash register sits while saying "I'm going to get you money." I was astonished when she returned with real coin money. I forgot this is also the room we keep our extra change for our savings. Sweetly handing me the money she said, "Here's some money mom. Does this make you feel better." I almost wept at her sincere gesture of love. She was so tender, naive and genuine. Her sincerity was overpowering. There will be times in my life that I will be challenged by my children, probably more than I would like to think of, but it is times like these that make those times seem minuscule.
Our children will challenge us every day of our lives in one way or another. We will lose our sanity from time to time and it's perfectly natural. We will run out of toys to take away, run out of hair to be pulled and run out of wine to drink in dealing with our families. But then you have your golden moments when your angels realize that what they do really does impact others and they want that impact to be good. Love your children, no matter what and let them know this. Tell them you love them in the good times but especially in the bad times. Don't be afraid to let them know how they impact you. First they affect you and then it's the world. What a positive change this little person can have on society.
After experiencing this bought of defiance many people began to warn us that the third year is much rougher than the second; however, I have grown to love this stage of my daughters life. She is more aware of how her behaviors affect the people around her and she strives to make others happy. I guess guilt did work after all. Just recently I found her comforting her younger sister when she was upset. She would hug her, tell her she loved her, stroke her arm and say "it's okay" over and over again. It's beautiful to see your children being so tender and nurturing to one another. It is then that one realized that they really have done something right in raising their children.
One of the most generous signs of compassion came from my three year old last week. We had returned from a fun afternoon of play at an indoor gym when I realized I had lost ten dollars. I was disappointed in the loss and expressed my concern out loud, in front of my daughter. She responded "it's okay mom." I tried to explain that it wasn't really bad but it wasn't good either to lose the money. After our conversation she walked downstairs to the family room where her toy cash register sits while saying "I'm going to get you money." I was astonished when she returned with real coin money. I forgot this is also the room we keep our extra change for our savings. Sweetly handing me the money she said, "Here's some money mom. Does this make you feel better." I almost wept at her sincere gesture of love. She was so tender, naive and genuine. Her sincerity was overpowering. There will be times in my life that I will be challenged by my children, probably more than I would like to think of, but it is times like these that make those times seem minuscule.
Our children will challenge us every day of our lives in one way or another. We will lose our sanity from time to time and it's perfectly natural. We will run out of toys to take away, run out of hair to be pulled and run out of wine to drink in dealing with our families. But then you have your golden moments when your angels realize that what they do really does impact others and they want that impact to be good. Love your children, no matter what and let them know this. Tell them you love them in the good times but especially in the bad times. Don't be afraid to let them know how they impact you. First they affect you and then it's the world. What a positive change this little person can have on society.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
I Didn't Always Look This Motherly
Why not post two in one day. Right?
This is another short essay I wrote awhile back. It's one of my favorites. It's great to get a good laugh, even if it is at yourself.
There is no mistaking the look of a mother. You can walk out of the house looking stunning, if you’re even able to get that far, but as soon as you step foot back into your house, into the world of motherhood everything changes. Your hair immediately falls flat and turns gray, your clothes have some kind of permanent stain on them in which you wonder if it’s been there all day, the make-up you applied earlier to look presentable now makes you look like Alice Cooper; which would be okay if you were a male rock-star who was able to unleash his frustrations on stage to a chorus of a thousand screaming fans who paid good money to see you thrashing around. Instead it’s your family whose tuning into the same daily madness and wondering what is wrong with this woman. Somehow you go from zero to sixty in seconds; unfortunately it’s in the wrong direction.
Once in a great while we all try to look good without looking so ‘motherly’ all the time. We actually do our hair in something other than a ponytail, we wear nice clothes instead of old outdated jeans and aerobics outfits, we put on good jewelry, not the stuff that comes with our daughters dress up kit but real gems, and we even put on a little lipstick. After a two hour process of dressing up, approximately 15 minutes later there is something on our clothes or in our hair. We’ve lost one of our best pair of earrings and praying to God that our child did not swallow it when he was tugging at them. And we find out that our lipstick is no longer on our lips but coated to the front of our teeth.
We would love to blame our children for our deteriorating looks, and much of the time it is their innocent faults; however, in the battle for beauty, we are equally to blame. If our children do not get something on us within a certain time frame something in our brains is triggered and we automatically lose control of our bodies and begin to use ourselves as a human canvas. It may be oil on a new shirt while cooking, the permanent marker we took from our child earlier while they were coloring their siblings face, blood on your khaki pants from shaving your legs for the first time in weeks, or red wine on your white shirt while dining out with your spouse. This is why we seldom attempt to wear anything more than pleated jeans, sweatshirts, and workout clothes, even if we have no intention of doing anything more than chasing our children around the confines of our house.
It is only through Oprah that I have discovered the misery of my ways. I did not know that what I was wearing is wrong because everyone else I came into contact with during the day looks just like I do, comfortable. Oprah taught me that bras are not only labeled A, B, or C for those of us who are sporty, but they also have numbers like 34, 36, or 38. I learned that ‘timeless’ looks are usually withered and blue eyeshadow is back in. Was it ever really out?
With my new enthusiasm to look stylish I headed out to the malls. I was going to buy the perfect jean, a real bra, and an age appropriate fitted sweater; but, after seeing the prices and being more confused by the styles and how clothes worked together I opted for a pair of Crocks. Their comfortable, timeless and I’m sure they will make Oprah’s next style show.
I may not always, or ever, dress like the experts recommend but my daughters are always in the latest styles, according to Target. I am constantly consumed by guilt when I want to spend money on myself. In order to fulfilling my shopping need I end up buying for my children. I splurge, no more than $15 an outfit, so they look nice. As I see it, these clothes are eternal and will be passed on to our future children. Luckily pink is no longer just a female color, I learned that from Oprah too. Our boys will look lovely.
Several years ago I lost a significant amount of weight, prior to marriage and children, and I kept many of my heavier clothes for “maternity wear”. I wish Oprah would have covered the style topic then. Little did I realize how outdated those clothes would be when I did become pregnant and no one had the heart to tell me that 50 pounds of fat is not the same as 50 pounds of pregnancy. Pregnancy weight is centralized to your stomach, breasts, ankles and face, not spread throughout your body. I did not wear these clothes during pregnancy and I could not wear them even after pregnancy. It was not the outdated part that deterred me from wearing these clothes; it was the fact that my body changed so much after having a baby that I was forced to wear maternity clothes for 2 months post giving birth to my first daughter. These were difficult lessons to learn. The baby does not weigh 50 lbs, most of that was what I ingested; and, you do not get your body back immediately after giving birth, nor six to eight weeks later. In fact, you will never look the same as you once did.
After having my first two children I needed to buy an entire new mommy wardrobe even when I was back at my pre-pregnancy weight. There was a great deal of shifting done after having two c-sections. There was also a great deal of finances a second child required. I then found myself reverted back to buying my ageless spandex aerobics pants, long and short sleeve multi-purpose t-shirts which could be worn with jeans, shorts or to work out, and a beautiful off white sweater that I described to my husband as “I had something exactly like this in high school that I loved.” I don’t think he was impressed by my explanation.
It’s not only our clothing that makes us look motherly, it’s our hairstyles. I am always amazed by moms that have a little flounce and bounce to their hair. Maybe I’m just seeing them after they have just left the stylist. Nevertheless, it is still impressive to watch someone shopping in the store carrying screaming children under their arms with great hair, even when they are in their workout gear.
Along with my clothes I also have an enduring hairstyle. Every four to six months I leave the hairdresser with my new cut and highlights feeling wonderful. I’m always so happy with my new shorter style. I feel so daring that I have done something different until I look at old pictures from 10 years ago and I realize I have had the same cut for 10 years. The only difference has been the length of my hair. Since I do not make it to the hairdresser as often as I should it always feels like a new and modern style, blond highlights, the cut just below the shoulders, frame around my face, and very long layers.
My last trip to the hairdresser I decided to finally change it up for good. I looked through several magazines while my highlights were setting, that part I couldn't bear to change, and I picked several pictures that were all pretty similar. Having a new stylist who was unfamiliar with my four to six month beauty regimen, she was very excited to partake in the ‘big change’. Apparently I was cutting approximately four inches off my hair. Once again I left there feeling ignited, ready to show off my new look; that was until I went home. I looked at pictures from a trip my husband I took 4 years prior to the ‘big change’ and I realized, once again I resorted back to my old ways. I had blond highlights, a cut just below my shoulders, hair framed around my face, and very long layers. After looking back on this I’m not sure why I was so upset about my husband not noticing the change right away since I do get this new look about every six months.
This is another short essay I wrote awhile back. It's one of my favorites. It's great to get a good laugh, even if it is at yourself.
There is no mistaking the look of a mother. You can walk out of the house looking stunning, if you’re even able to get that far, but as soon as you step foot back into your house, into the world of motherhood everything changes. Your hair immediately falls flat and turns gray, your clothes have some kind of permanent stain on them in which you wonder if it’s been there all day, the make-up you applied earlier to look presentable now makes you look like Alice Cooper; which would be okay if you were a male rock-star who was able to unleash his frustrations on stage to a chorus of a thousand screaming fans who paid good money to see you thrashing around. Instead it’s your family whose tuning into the same daily madness and wondering what is wrong with this woman. Somehow you go from zero to sixty in seconds; unfortunately it’s in the wrong direction.
Once in a great while we all try to look good without looking so ‘motherly’ all the time. We actually do our hair in something other than a ponytail, we wear nice clothes instead of old outdated jeans and aerobics outfits, we put on good jewelry, not the stuff that comes with our daughters dress up kit but real gems, and we even put on a little lipstick. After a two hour process of dressing up, approximately 15 minutes later there is something on our clothes or in our hair. We’ve lost one of our best pair of earrings and praying to God that our child did not swallow it when he was tugging at them. And we find out that our lipstick is no longer on our lips but coated to the front of our teeth.
We would love to blame our children for our deteriorating looks, and much of the time it is their innocent faults; however, in the battle for beauty, we are equally to blame. If our children do not get something on us within a certain time frame something in our brains is triggered and we automatically lose control of our bodies and begin to use ourselves as a human canvas. It may be oil on a new shirt while cooking, the permanent marker we took from our child earlier while they were coloring their siblings face, blood on your khaki pants from shaving your legs for the first time in weeks, or red wine on your white shirt while dining out with your spouse. This is why we seldom attempt to wear anything more than pleated jeans, sweatshirts, and workout clothes, even if we have no intention of doing anything more than chasing our children around the confines of our house.
It is only through Oprah that I have discovered the misery of my ways. I did not know that what I was wearing is wrong because everyone else I came into contact with during the day looks just like I do, comfortable. Oprah taught me that bras are not only labeled A, B, or C for those of us who are sporty, but they also have numbers like 34, 36, or 38. I learned that ‘timeless’ looks are usually withered and blue eyeshadow is back in. Was it ever really out?
With my new enthusiasm to look stylish I headed out to the malls. I was going to buy the perfect jean, a real bra, and an age appropriate fitted sweater; but, after seeing the prices and being more confused by the styles and how clothes worked together I opted for a pair of Crocks. Their comfortable, timeless and I’m sure they will make Oprah’s next style show.
I may not always, or ever, dress like the experts recommend but my daughters are always in the latest styles, according to Target. I am constantly consumed by guilt when I want to spend money on myself. In order to fulfilling my shopping need I end up buying for my children. I splurge, no more than $15 an outfit, so they look nice. As I see it, these clothes are eternal and will be passed on to our future children. Luckily pink is no longer just a female color, I learned that from Oprah too. Our boys will look lovely.
Several years ago I lost a significant amount of weight, prior to marriage and children, and I kept many of my heavier clothes for “maternity wear”. I wish Oprah would have covered the style topic then. Little did I realize how outdated those clothes would be when I did become pregnant and no one had the heart to tell me that 50 pounds of fat is not the same as 50 pounds of pregnancy. Pregnancy weight is centralized to your stomach, breasts, ankles and face, not spread throughout your body. I did not wear these clothes during pregnancy and I could not wear them even after pregnancy. It was not the outdated part that deterred me from wearing these clothes; it was the fact that my body changed so much after having a baby that I was forced to wear maternity clothes for 2 months post giving birth to my first daughter. These were difficult lessons to learn. The baby does not weigh 50 lbs, most of that was what I ingested; and, you do not get your body back immediately after giving birth, nor six to eight weeks later. In fact, you will never look the same as you once did.
After having my first two children I needed to buy an entire new mommy wardrobe even when I was back at my pre-pregnancy weight. There was a great deal of shifting done after having two c-sections. There was also a great deal of finances a second child required. I then found myself reverted back to buying my ageless spandex aerobics pants, long and short sleeve multi-purpose t-shirts which could be worn with jeans, shorts or to work out, and a beautiful off white sweater that I described to my husband as “I had something exactly like this in high school that I loved.” I don’t think he was impressed by my explanation.
It’s not only our clothing that makes us look motherly, it’s our hairstyles. I am always amazed by moms that have a little flounce and bounce to their hair. Maybe I’m just seeing them after they have just left the stylist. Nevertheless, it is still impressive to watch someone shopping in the store carrying screaming children under their arms with great hair, even when they are in their workout gear.
Along with my clothes I also have an enduring hairstyle. Every four to six months I leave the hairdresser with my new cut and highlights feeling wonderful. I’m always so happy with my new shorter style. I feel so daring that I have done something different until I look at old pictures from 10 years ago and I realize I have had the same cut for 10 years. The only difference has been the length of my hair. Since I do not make it to the hairdresser as often as I should it always feels like a new and modern style, blond highlights, the cut just below the shoulders, frame around my face, and very long layers.
My last trip to the hairdresser I decided to finally change it up for good. I looked through several magazines while my highlights were setting, that part I couldn't bear to change, and I picked several pictures that were all pretty similar. Having a new stylist who was unfamiliar with my four to six month beauty regimen, she was very excited to partake in the ‘big change’. Apparently I was cutting approximately four inches off my hair. Once again I left there feeling ignited, ready to show off my new look; that was until I went home. I looked at pictures from a trip my husband I took 4 years prior to the ‘big change’ and I realized, once again I resorted back to my old ways. I had blond highlights, a cut just below my shoulders, hair framed around my face, and very long layers. After looking back on this I’m not sure why I was so upset about my husband not noticing the change right away since I do get this new look about every six months.
The Toast
When my sister asked me to give a toast in honor of her and her new husband at their wedding I knew I wanted it to be unique. There were so many things I was thinking and feeling, yet they all sounded cliche; "I've never seen my sister so happy," "I know you'll have a wonderful life together," "you are perfect for each other," etc. So I did what I know best; I wrote a story. I wrote a short fairy tale about a Polish Princess in search of her Polish Prince. It's not the best written story ever, yet I believe it's a good example of creativity and a memorable and unique speech. There are no quotes and our senses aren't involved as dramatically as I would have liked. At least I know the flaws instead of trying to sell you on an adequate piece, at best.
As the Matron of Honor I wanted to focus more on my sister and what every girl dreams of, having their fairy tale wedding and dreams coming true. I assumed the Best Man's toast would focus more on his relationship with my brother-in-law and advice for the couple to use in the future, which was accurate. My story reflected this as well as the wonderful qualities my new brother-in-law possesses. I will agree that my story is less of a toast and more of a history lesion on the newlyweds; however, I'm also the Matron on Honor, not the official toaster which I feel is the job of the Best Man. In my mind this gave me greater flexibility to be more creative. Having written the story in a leather bound journal to give to the couple, it also allowed me to actually read the bulk of my speech without having to worry about memorizing a toast.
The fairy tale didn't end "happily ever after" as most do. I left the story open ended and gave the couple a homework assignment. I told them that Chapter one of their lives had been written, now it's their turn the complete the rest. Each day, for the rest of their lives I asked them to write down in their journal why they loved one another that particular day and what each one has done to bring the other closer to Heaven. I also told them that we all know that life is not always "happily ever after" and it will have ups and downs along the way. The important part is how they react to one another during those times. That's why it's so important to write about their journey because they may discover a pattern, good or bad, in their relationship. They can learn from the past and make their future even better. If only every couple took the time to do this for one another; love would grow, divorce would plummet, and there would be a lot of great love stories to enjoy.
Here is Ch. 1 of my sister and her new husband's love story.
Once there was a Polish Princess named Christine who lived in a land called Rome. She dreamed of finding herself a good, gentlemanly Polish Prince who would love her and her little dogs too; but, she feared she was stricken with the crazy dog lady curse, which would leave her without a male human companion for life. Nevertheless, she didn't give up hope of one day finding her true love. In her pursuits she met other suitors but they were all lacking that good Polish charisma. Many a heart did she break but hers was unscathed because not a one cared for her with respect and gratitude, as a princess should be treated.
Then one day, while enjoying the pubs with Anita, her lady in waiting, she met a kind, gentile and shy man by the name of Tom. She did not know that he was really a Polish Prince disguised in plain clothing. With nothing to lose and a future to gain, Christine gathered up the courage to give Tom her phone number.
Two days had passed and Christine's hopes began to fade in this fair fellow, Tom. But alas, on the third day he gained the courage to call this beautiful princess and kindly asked to see her again. In three days time the three Poles met again for another encounter. Three you ask? Why yes. What would a second date be without Anita the princesses chaperon. Princess Christine found her encounters with Tom very favorable so she told Anita that her services were no longer needed.
Emotions between Tom and Christine quickly escalated and his true identity as a Polish Prince was revealed and the crazy dog lady curse had been lifted. Not only was Tom kind, thoughtful and patient, he also treated her with respect and gratitude, which her other suitors failed in doing. His good deeds did not go unacknowledged and in return she gave him her heart.
Princess Christine has always been know as a happy, down to earth, hard working, loving person; but due to Prince Tom, a noticeable change occurred within her. The princess became giddy with love. She was utterly happy all the time, laughed at everything and she was unable to release the smile which was cast upon her face. Ann, Jessie, her friends, family, co-workers and even her little dogs noticed this sudden, euphoric change and they knew their love was meant to last a lifetime.
One year to the day after first laying eyes upon each other, Prince Tom proposed marriage and Princess Christine gladly accepted. He adorned her with a diamond as a proclamation of his love and devotion to her. Christine promptly sold her estate and their palaces were combined into one. The prince quickly learned of Christine's need for a maid and a closet solely for shoes. He was a bit overwhelmed and shocked to say the least. Nevertheless, his love for this sweet princess was unfailing and couldn't even be wavered by her mischievous dog Codi.
A few short month later they were wed on the 14th day of February at St. Mary Our Lady of Czestochowa church, a good Polish Parish, of course. They felt their love greatest on this day of all, yet they soon learned their love would become even more grand as time progressed. For their wedding day was merely the start of their lives as husband and wife, rulers of their Polish kingdom.
As the Matron of Honor I wanted to focus more on my sister and what every girl dreams of, having their fairy tale wedding and dreams coming true. I assumed the Best Man's toast would focus more on his relationship with my brother-in-law and advice for the couple to use in the future, which was accurate. My story reflected this as well as the wonderful qualities my new brother-in-law possesses. I will agree that my story is less of a toast and more of a history lesion on the newlyweds; however, I'm also the Matron on Honor, not the official toaster which I feel is the job of the Best Man. In my mind this gave me greater flexibility to be more creative. Having written the story in a leather bound journal to give to the couple, it also allowed me to actually read the bulk of my speech without having to worry about memorizing a toast.
The fairy tale didn't end "happily ever after" as most do. I left the story open ended and gave the couple a homework assignment. I told them that Chapter one of their lives had been written, now it's their turn the complete the rest. Each day, for the rest of their lives I asked them to write down in their journal why they loved one another that particular day and what each one has done to bring the other closer to Heaven. I also told them that we all know that life is not always "happily ever after" and it will have ups and downs along the way. The important part is how they react to one another during those times. That's why it's so important to write about their journey because they may discover a pattern, good or bad, in their relationship. They can learn from the past and make their future even better. If only every couple took the time to do this for one another; love would grow, divorce would plummet, and there would be a lot of great love stories to enjoy.
Here is Ch. 1 of my sister and her new husband's love story.
Once there was a Polish Princess named Christine who lived in a land called Rome. She dreamed of finding herself a good, gentlemanly Polish Prince who would love her and her little dogs too; but, she feared she was stricken with the crazy dog lady curse, which would leave her without a male human companion for life. Nevertheless, she didn't give up hope of one day finding her true love. In her pursuits she met other suitors but they were all lacking that good Polish charisma. Many a heart did she break but hers was unscathed because not a one cared for her with respect and gratitude, as a princess should be treated.
Then one day, while enjoying the pubs with Anita, her lady in waiting, she met a kind, gentile and shy man by the name of Tom. She did not know that he was really a Polish Prince disguised in plain clothing. With nothing to lose and a future to gain, Christine gathered up the courage to give Tom her phone number.
Two days had passed and Christine's hopes began to fade in this fair fellow, Tom. But alas, on the third day he gained the courage to call this beautiful princess and kindly asked to see her again. In three days time the three Poles met again for another encounter. Three you ask? Why yes. What would a second date be without Anita the princesses chaperon. Princess Christine found her encounters with Tom very favorable so she told Anita that her services were no longer needed.
Emotions between Tom and Christine quickly escalated and his true identity as a Polish Prince was revealed and the crazy dog lady curse had been lifted. Not only was Tom kind, thoughtful and patient, he also treated her with respect and gratitude, which her other suitors failed in doing. His good deeds did not go unacknowledged and in return she gave him her heart.
Princess Christine has always been know as a happy, down to earth, hard working, loving person; but due to Prince Tom, a noticeable change occurred within her. The princess became giddy with love. She was utterly happy all the time, laughed at everything and she was unable to release the smile which was cast upon her face. Ann, Jessie, her friends, family, co-workers and even her little dogs noticed this sudden, euphoric change and they knew their love was meant to last a lifetime.
One year to the day after first laying eyes upon each other, Prince Tom proposed marriage and Princess Christine gladly accepted. He adorned her with a diamond as a proclamation of his love and devotion to her. Christine promptly sold her estate and their palaces were combined into one. The prince quickly learned of Christine's need for a maid and a closet solely for shoes. He was a bit overwhelmed and shocked to say the least. Nevertheless, his love for this sweet princess was unfailing and couldn't even be wavered by her mischievous dog Codi.
A few short month later they were wed on the 14th day of February at St. Mary Our Lady of Czestochowa church, a good Polish Parish, of course. They felt their love greatest on this day of all, yet they soon learned their love would become even more grand as time progressed. For their wedding day was merely the start of their lives as husband and wife, rulers of their Polish kingdom.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
The Inevitable
Three days before leaving town for my sisters wedding I turned to my husband and said, "My biggest fear about this wedding is someone is going to get sick." No sooner had the words slipped off my tongue when my youngest daughter came down with a cold. Was this inevitable or did I really cause the illness with my negative energy. Looking back, it could have been a number of events that caused the illness. Was it the Children's Museum, daycare or perhaps swimming at the Y when the temperate was a frigid 14 degrees outside? Most likely it was a mix of all of the above and it was all irreversible.
A cold is mild compared to what my older daughter endured, the dreaded stomach virus! Her timing couldn't have been any more perfect. The second we hit our destination, after a two hour car ride, she vomited all over herself. We assumed this was an isolated incident but we quickly discovered we were wrong. At two in the morning we awoken to a crying child who could not stop herself from getting sick. Somehow her sister, who was lying right besides her on their air mattress, did not even flinch at the commotion. The next day went physically well; however, emotionally our oldest was moody. She would not rehearse for the wedding, she only wanted mommy and she was very short tempered. That night she did sleep well which was our saving grace for the wedding!
The day of the wedding started well. Everyone had their hair done at a local salon and small breakfasts were enjoyed, but moods escalated. My younger daughter was running in and out of my legs with her beautifully made up hair, she broke the single white rose she had to carry and she was trying to rip off her gorgeous red flower girl gown. Both girls only wanted mommy and to be held while all the commotion of getting dressed, applying make-up and having our pictures taken was in full swing. The girls needed to be escorted to the car kicking and screaming in order to reach the wedding ceremony in time. Yet, miracles do cease. After a power nap of 20 minutes the girls walked down the aisle perfectly, hand in hand, like angels in flight.
They did very well during the ceremony and for pictures but it was afterwards that there was illness related issues. My oldest daughter finished the last bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich when it suddenly reappeared on her red gown. Luckily my mother-in-law was able to wash it and no one knew. After short naps the girls arrived fashionably late to the reception and had a fabulous time. My husband and I were so glad that we made it through the evening without another illness related attack. The last song of the evening was announced, appropriately it was "The Last Dance", and just as my daughter was getting ready to go home she got sick all over my husband. Only one other guest, who should have been dancing, noticed the event so we were very fortunate, as were the other guests. After we finished cleaning her up she asked, "can I still go dance?"
The day was wonderful but I have learned my lesson to never verbalize my fears until the event is over. Even though my daughters were tired and ill, they made me so proud. They performed beautifully, they looked adorable and they were the life of the party. When life gives you illness, shake it up, get it out and dance it off!
A cold is mild compared to what my older daughter endured, the dreaded stomach virus! Her timing couldn't have been any more perfect. The second we hit our destination, after a two hour car ride, she vomited all over herself. We assumed this was an isolated incident but we quickly discovered we were wrong. At two in the morning we awoken to a crying child who could not stop herself from getting sick. Somehow her sister, who was lying right besides her on their air mattress, did not even flinch at the commotion. The next day went physically well; however, emotionally our oldest was moody. She would not rehearse for the wedding, she only wanted mommy and she was very short tempered. That night she did sleep well which was our saving grace for the wedding!
The day of the wedding started well. Everyone had their hair done at a local salon and small breakfasts were enjoyed, but moods escalated. My younger daughter was running in and out of my legs with her beautifully made up hair, she broke the single white rose she had to carry and she was trying to rip off her gorgeous red flower girl gown. Both girls only wanted mommy and to be held while all the commotion of getting dressed, applying make-up and having our pictures taken was in full swing. The girls needed to be escorted to the car kicking and screaming in order to reach the wedding ceremony in time. Yet, miracles do cease. After a power nap of 20 minutes the girls walked down the aisle perfectly, hand in hand, like angels in flight.
They did very well during the ceremony and for pictures but it was afterwards that there was illness related issues. My oldest daughter finished the last bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich when it suddenly reappeared on her red gown. Luckily my mother-in-law was able to wash it and no one knew. After short naps the girls arrived fashionably late to the reception and had a fabulous time. My husband and I were so glad that we made it through the evening without another illness related attack. The last song of the evening was announced, appropriately it was "The Last Dance", and just as my daughter was getting ready to go home she got sick all over my husband. Only one other guest, who should have been dancing, noticed the event so we were very fortunate, as were the other guests. After we finished cleaning her up she asked, "can I still go dance?"
The day was wonderful but I have learned my lesson to never verbalize my fears until the event is over. Even though my daughters were tired and ill, they made me so proud. They performed beautifully, they looked adorable and they were the life of the party. When life gives you illness, shake it up, get it out and dance it off!
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