Barren Mare

The lines on my forehead

Well, it turns out that it is actually quite hard to find even twenty minutes these days. Most of last week was taken up dealing with our first wedding related panic. We discovered, quite by chance, that there is a major international golf tournament and a big rock concert in the locality that weekend; hence most of the accommodation in town is already getting booked up and many places were already full. Being high season, things are busy anyway. I felt like an idiot for not checking what might be on over those particular dates- an easy mistake to make, I suppose but still...

My mother pointed out that it's not really our responsibility to make sure people have somewhere to stay, which I quite agree with in principle- but I thought it a bit rich to expect folk to come from a considerable distance on a weekend when we know there is nowhere for them to spend the night.

This is exactly the kind of thing that sends me into a complete tizz. 

"Gaaahhhh!" I said to Knox, by phone, text, email and instant messaging.

"Stop fretting," replied Knox, "I don't want to marry someone whose forehead is all creased up."

 After breathing into a paper bag for a few minutes, I decided that before doing anything drastic like changing the date, we would make enquiries at every single goddamn guesthouse and B&B in the area to find out if there was really going to be a problem. Since I am not all that familiar with the town and relative distances between the venue and the options on offer, this meant a lot of time googling mapping my way into a stupor. In the end, we realised that there are probably enough places to stay nearby, but our guests are going to have to book sooner rather than later soon. And that means getting the invitations out pronto and oh look, there goes another bunch of hours of time sorting that out.

Anyway, yes- about E.  Honestly, I don't know if he ever reads this but I remain a little uncomfortable writing too much about the situation despite there being so much I could say. He is around, in the sense that he comes to see Botany, give her dinner and spend a bit of time with her before she goes to bed a couple of times during the week. One morning every weekend, he takes her out (without me). I reached the point roughly around November where I realised that although I still had some reservations about trust issues, I was going to go nuts if I didn't get some respite from 24/7 solo parenting at least once a week.

I'm actually open to the idea of him spending a longer time with Botany at the weekend (for example, the whole day if not quite yet a night) but there is a problem in that he doesn't really have suitable accommodation set up in terms of somewhere to take her (for example, where she can have meals, a nap and a warm safe place to play). Sure, I occasionally take her out for an extended outing but I don't think it's a good idea for Botany to be schlepped around outdoors, in and out of the car and buggy all day on a regular basis.  

So the situation is  by turns adequate and unsatisfactory- adequate in that he's putting in an appearance and under the circumstances, it's probably as much as he can offer at this point. Botany clearly loves him and I am glad she gets the chance to spend some time with her daddy. But it's unsatisfactory in that I don't think it really offers any sort of real substance in terms of parenting. At least from where I am sitting, there's also a certain amount of crazy-making behaviour on his part and if I could get into it, I am pretty sure some of it would make your eyes bug out at the lunacy. My rule of thumb, though, is that unless there is something I really need to worry about for Botany's sake, I try not to give E. too much headspace or energy. I will say that he was quite gracious about the news of my engagement to Knox, and that at least is not a source of conflict.   

And now off to deal with other interesting and important matters, such as where to buy appropriate binding undergarments for under my dress. Despite having long ago lost the baby weight, my tummy has never really been quite the same, having expanded alarmingly during my pregnancy (all my own doing- too many goddamn chocolate muffins). To say nothing of my lopsided boobs. I need upholstering. 

Male un-bifurcated garments and more!

As I watch the last remnants of free time narrowing, closing in on me like the Star Wars trash compactor (sorry, that is the image that springs to mind, having watched the Family Guy parody the other night. Or rather, I fell asleep on the sofa as Knox watched it, prodding me with his foot occasionally), I've decided that it would be very easy to let things slip on the blog front. It's like anything relating to procrastination; if enough time passes, you start to feel guilty and freaked out about how to catch up.

So, in order to avoid that, my current strategy will be to aim for writing posts less like a long, eloquent weekly letter to a best friend (you, the Internets, you!) and more like a twenty minute journal entry. I used to keep a daily journal on that very basis, and it was good for me. There's an immense value in catching and recording even the smallest sound bytes of snippets of time- even if it means other chores are neglected for the moment, such as the mopping up that puddle of mysterious goo on the kitchen floor.

For this round, just to answer some of the questions flying around my comments section, including several posed by the lovely Julia of the Hippogriffs:

1. At the wedding, will there be kilts?  Indeed there will be. Knox will certainly be wearing his, that's for sure. Kilt-wearing is one of the things I like most about living here; all the more so because it really is a genuine part of the culture and not just for show. Men wear kilts at formal occasions, but also at sporting events, like football matches, concerts, parties, Burns night, Hogmanay, ceilidh dances and even for outdoor pursuits (hiking, fishing, deerstalking- not that I know anyone who does the last item). Like many guys, Knox has several kilts in the family tartan- one for formal dress-up and one for times when there is a risk it might actually get wrecked by mud, beer, falling into a river, etc. 

It may sound cheesy, but there is something really very nice about a group of men assembled in formal Scottish dress. And don't they just know it, too.

2. My dress-  I promise you some details of this in due course. I'm sort of reluctant to post a link to it, because the picture of it on the site where I bought it makes it look much more like a cream puff than it actually is. A boring cream puff, no less. My original plan was to buy it so I could shorten it to a poofy, tea length kind of number (think vintage fifties vibe). But then when it came, I loved it just as it is- floor length and simple but not at all cream puffy- and so I am going to leave it alone. I'll see if I can dredge up a more flattering photo, or take one of my own.  

3. My parents and Knox-  My folks really like Knox. A lot. I think initially, my mother was a bit cynical and wary- as someone who had just spent a good couple of months helping me clean up one of the worst messes of my life, she wasn't entirely sure of my good judgment on getting involved so quickly with someone new. But it's pretty hard not to like Knox- he's a very personable guy and he is easy to talk to and be around. It also helps enormously that he's so good to me and to Botany. I don't think it did any harm either that he's actually ponied up and put a ring on my finger. The boy walks the walk, you know?

My parents are coming for the whole summer, which is one of the reasons we decided to get on with having a wedding while they are already scheduled to be here. I view the date of their arrival with longing- it is sooo much nicer having an extra couple of pairs of hands around here and Botany is completely besotted with them (and vice versa). 

4. Knox and the Other City- this one is a wee bit more complicated. The short answer is that he is still traveling back and forth between here and there, which is not ideal. Basically, he's currently in the process of applying for his dream job and it's a long winded ordeal, with about a dozen hurdles to overcome and we won't know the outcome for some time. If he gets it, it does not solve all our problems (and would create some new ones, I expect) but would mean that he would be working a lot closer than at present. So we're going ahead and hoping it turns OK- if not, plan B is what was originally plan A- which is he rearranges his work schedule to allow him more time here, with the objective of a full time move as soon as he can find alternate work.

Oh, and there was something about E. I will answer that one soon, but hey, willya look at the time! It's been way more than twenty minutes. 

 

Bridecompsognathus

Thank you all so much for your kind good wishes. I am girlishly delighted by the whole thing and it is a pleasure to be able to share it all with you. In fact, I apologise in advance if I start droning on excessively about all things wedding related; a topic like this is like having a shiny new toy to play with.  

We're going ahead with a plan for a late summer hitching. Originally, I had envisaged a very small ceremony with only immediate family, followed by a large informal party at a later date with dancing and merriment for the masses. I had not, however, reckoned on the wishes of Knox's mother (and indeed Knox itself, it would seem) that there be a proper do with a ceremony in front of everyone and a sit down meal. The provisional invite list from his side contains friends and their children, cousins and their children, friends of his mother and their children.

Once I got over the initial wave of dizziness, I decided to roll with it. Fair enough. I've done the whole big wedding hoopla once, and Knox has not, so he (and his mother) should get the day as they wish (within reason). The only problem is that realistically, somebody has to plan it all, and that somebody will inevitably be me. Not because they refuse to help, you understand. But if there is going to be an event of any size, then I am by nature going to be particular about it. Not that I had any intention of becoming that old cliche, a bridezilla, but I definitely have the capacity to turn into one of the lesser carnivorous dinosaurs. Think compsognathus.

And here is where I see my already incredibly scarce free time consumed in large, greedy bites by wedding planning.  Friends, I have looked into the swirling vortex of terror known as the bridal industry, and I tremble.

It's slightly amazing to think that when I first married, nearly 15 years ago, I organised an international destination wedding, largely from overseas- without the internet. I know! I am incredulous myself at the very idea. At the time, the whole world wide web was in its infancy and I am not entirely sure how we pulled it off. Lots of expensive phone calls and letters, I guess. It was so long ago that I don't think people even used the term "destination wedding" (which for no good reason is a phrase I already sort of detest.)

Anyway, it was probably all for the best because as most of you probably well know, there is waaaaay too much information out there for the trawling on the internet. Once I started browsing wedding websites and forums and chatrooms and blogs, it was like an addictive hit of some strong illicit drug (which of course I have never used in my life- heed the metaphor). I went from being fairly blase about a lot of the details to becoming completely overwhelmed by the avalanche of suggestions as to what a wedding could look like.

Individual bonsai trees holding place cards at the table! Invitations created from paper handmade in a vat in my backyard and sewn together with handspun wool! Origami flowers for my bouquet! Cycling to the venue on vintage tandem bicycles! Raw-edged scalloped organza dresses! Photographs in fields of wild flowers! Green tango shoes for me! Peacock and thistle buttonholes for him! Everything from Etsy (which in itself, let's face it, is like crack).      

Finally, I pulled myself together, and after a deep breath followed by a few sharp self-administered slaps to the face and head, I've calmed down a little. Because I don't have that much time to obsess about every tiny detail, and ultimately none of that stuff really matters anyway. We've got the date (29 August), we've got the place (a secret for now, but let's just say it's very Scottish) and I've got the dress (I saw it online, it was ridiculously cheap on clearance, I went for it, it's perfect.) So in some ways, it feels like  we're already halfway there.

I'm still not quite sure how I got so damn lucky.  

Reader, I'll marry him

Pretty much immediately after my last post, Botany started sleeping until 6.30 am and generally behaving angelically. This lasted for a marvelous four days. Then it was the weekend when I finally didn't have to get up for work, and she resumed her 5am wake up hijinks. But from now on, I live in hope that she can in fact sleep later; it made getting ready for work soooo much easier and pleasant when I was able to get up a half an hour before her. Pleasant, apart from the having to get up, that is.  

Anyway. Now for something completely different.

A long, long time ago- way before E. appeared on the scene - I was married for a brief time. I was really young and dumb at the time, and showed spectacularly bad judgment in opting to wed the person in question. I liked him a whole lot but didn't feel anything approaching real love. Even worse, I felt virtually no sexual attraction to him, quite the opposite. Perhaps the fact that any physical contact between us inspired a vague sense of repulsion on my part should have been an obvious giveaway that it was the wrong move to embark into a state of matrimony. But, accompanied by a sensation of having my head spun around in 180 degrees, as soon as we started talking about getting engaged we seemed to step on to the Express Train to Wedding Madness.  There was no stopping the juggernaut.

My parents (especially my mother) are usually quite adept at helping dissuade me from a certain amount of stupid life decisions. But in this case, I think my mother and I lost our collective minds, especially when I started trying on dresses. We got caught up in the nitty gritty of planning of what ended up being a delightful ceremony in a ruined candlelit Scottish castle. Unfortunately, we lost sight that it would be have a far nicer occasion for all concerned if I was, say, actually in love with the groom. I think my mother was charmed and more than a little relieved that I was finally about to settle down at the ripe old age of 24, not to mention that there was somebody out there who was willing to have me.

Huh. This should really be part of the "How I ended up in Scotland" story that I can't seem to ever get around to finishing.

Anyway, it was a doomed marriage from the get-go and mercifully short-lived, with my having delivered the coup de grace after about a year into it. I suspect my former spouse was extremely hurt and a little bewildered by the whole thing. But he was even younger than me, and bounced back quickly, moving on to someone much more deserving of his kind and gentle ways. Thanks to the wonders of the internet former spouse tracking technology, I know he's happily remarried with two kids. I also know that given that he lives in the same small town as Knox's mother, I reckon there is a high probability I will bump into him, and I'll look forward to recapping that slightly excruciating experience for you all one day.

Despite this unfortunate experience, I remained a devotee to the idea of marriage. Part of it is underneath all my attempts to be so unconventional and rock n' roll, I'm quite traditional. I'd still rather be married to my life partner than not. I like- how do I put this- all the trappings of marriage. You know, wearing a ring and having a title of "wife" rather than the occasionally awkward ambiguity of "partner" or the getting- too- old for this label of "girlfriend".  I like the relatively easy social acceptability of it and the security (however illusory that may be) of a legally binding commitment.

And I still perceive marriage as, well, romantic. I think it's a very lovely notion to stand up, in front of all your friends and family and say to the person you love, "I choose you, above anybody else in all the world." 

So it was source of great, ongoing frustration to me that during our relationship, E. never really wanted to get married. Early on, after a couple of years together, we sort of kind of became engaged at one point. He never actually proposed, you understand, but there were some (what I thought) were fairly advanced discussions on wedding dates and inspection of possible venues. Only it never went anywhere because when it came time to tell his parents, he couldn't and wouldn't do it. If there was ever a time in the relationship when the light bulb should have gone off over my pointy little head, that was it.  The bottom line was that E. wasn't all that much into commitment, period- never mind getting married. But instead of putting my foot down, I backed off. Oh, I did plenty of hinting and wheedling and intermittent nagging but eventually I compromised, reckoning that what we had was pretty good and that we had most of the underpinnings of a lasting partnership anyway. Except, um, not so much. 

When I entered the mad fray of dating once again, I made up my mind that anybody whose big picture didn't include getting married was probably not for me. It's perhaps hard, in this day and age, to be too insistent or persistent about that sort of thing without appearing like a crazy bunny boiler. Fortunately, I quickly ascertained that Knox's attitude toward marriage appeared to echo mine, so when we embarked on our relationship, I figured there was at least a possibility that things might end up going in that direction. As things carried on, getting better and better all the time, I began to harbor certain hopes that at long last, I'd found the right one.   But I've been disappointed before, so there seemed to be no sense in getting my hopes up, and certainly not prematurely.

Imagine, then, my surprise and delight when, during our Florida vacation, Knox asked me to marry him at sunset by the bay front. He pulled out a small box and put it in my hand. When I opened it, I saw the most beautiful ring, the ring of my dreams. He bought in secret over a month and brought it all the way over from Scotland, waiting almost to the end of the holiday for that one, perfect moment. 

Whee! Knox and I are getting married! In fact, we're looking to do something as soon as this summer! I am giddy with happiness. Never mind that I have no idea how I going to find the time to plan a wedding, but pass me the plate and I will add it to my juggling.