Down the Bridal Rabbit Hole

I apologise. When I first decided to keep this blog, I made a commitment (again) to actually write and post and I didn’t do it (again). I am not shocked by this, nor, are my followers – all two of them. It is not the first time that this has happened. To you, this here medium is called the internet. To me, it is the boulevard of broken memoirs. The graveyard of my writing dreams. The land that the Cosmo Blog Awards forgot. The only place left where people might actually buy into my melodramatic efforts at exaggeration. You get the picture.

On becoming engaged, I indulged in the usual excited bride-to-be behaviour. Very quickly my Facebook newsfeed became clogged with posts from every wedding blog and website I could find to follow. Love My Dress, Rock n Roll Bride, Style Me Pretty. You know exactly what I am talking about because if you are reading this then, chances are, you have probably done the same. Work becomes that thing that interferes with wedding planning. ‘Going out’ exists purely as an opportunity to update your friends – whether they want to hear it or not – and ‘staying in’ involves making lists and drinking copious amounts of gin. Ok, that part is just me and in my defence, I was celebrating said list-making skills.

The only bride that I have ever met that has not completely relished this opportunity to plan and spend money is my sister. I drew up her guest list, designed and sent her invites, planned and executed décor, ceremony, all arrangements. I even booked her honeymoon. She, in turn..attended. The thought of being so uninvolved in my own wedding is enough to create a Sarah-shaped hole in my living room wall. When the newly-engaged blush fades and the ‘likes’ on your new relationship status cease, what you are left with is one of the most all consuming events of your life. And that, you see, is why it has been eight months since my last post. I was sucked into the wedding vacuum, into the planning vortex like Alice down the rabbit hole. 

Life after planning.
Life after planning.

Emerging from this cloud, I find reality an adjustment in so many ways. Having also thrown a new house into the mix – a very rundown house in a new county where I know no one – I decided to complete the trifecta by leaving my job. I now work from home where conversation consists of asking a 10-month old labrador if she would like a kale and avocado smoothie for breakfast. Wedding planning over, here I am – newly married, newly Kentish and newly self-employed.

No longer a Grown Up Bride, now just a grown up.


Milestones in planning and other grown up things..

Today I reached two milestones. Admittedly, only one of these was wedding related.

You see, historically, I have always been a serial first post blogger. Normally I get a crazy wonderful idea on the commute to work. I am then overcome by the conviction that creating yet another new blog is the only way to share this epiphany with the world.  I write this first post fairly quickly. I go on to proclaim that us lemmings of the commuting sphere must throw down our Metros, rise up, like a flashmob during a public transport proposal, and take back the four hours of our lives lost each day to the monotonous abyss that is National Rail. Then I spend another two days designing my blog before finally running out of creative steam and interest. You might recognise me from other starring roles such as ‘The girl with the cool pencil case and no homework’.

However, today this cycle was broken.  Broken I tell ya, like the last digestive in the pack -smashed! Boom! (Sorry, I’m a bit pumped). On this day Friday 24th January in the year of our Lord 2014, I, Grown-Up Bride wrote a second blog post. I actually followed through with an action.

No one is more encouraged by this milestone than Grown-Up Groom, who makes the very valid point that the ability to keep to your word is a desirable quality in a spouse. Fair point.

My grownupness (that’s a high scorer in Scrabble that one) has been further reinforced by milestone #2. Having confirmed my venue and caterers I have turned my attention to my guest list. Our guestlist.

I am Irish.  Grown-Up Groom is South African. We met in Australia where we lived for many years and we have just moved to Kent following a three year stint in London.  Confused yet? Not as much as my accent or our international guestlist.  As it turns out, six months is not a lot of notice to give guests that are coming from another hemisphere.

Ok, I knew that.  Secretly I did know that. But, I had thought, hoped, that I could blag it. That we could blag it. Whats mine is yours, including the disorganisation. So now I am a little bit worried that my wedding will be like my tenth birthday, where I will be forced to invite all twelve of my Twitter followers in order to meet the minimum requirements of the venue.  Ok, so that was my 30th birthday…

In Ireland, a small wedding is 200 people.  Mine in comparison is now going to look like a Neighborhood Watch meeting where twenty of us, in a larger than necessary room, huddle together for heat. Maybe I should rethink that nine-piece swing band?

In the months preceding the ‘unexpected’ engagement when I was doing my ‘non-planning’, I had envisaged having to put crowd control barriers around the imaginary venue. 

Seems not. Now it looks like it will just be me, he and the Immediates. And if it is just us, then it will still be perfect. Just the grown ups.                               .