Not ready to back down

So my mom has been insane lately.
I mean more than usual.

My mom and I never really got on too well, but we found this really great middle ground where I don't ask anything from her, take care of myself, and pretend like she is a part of my life. It works - or had been.

But now, with the addition of the wedding - everything has changed - all bets are off and I am left complete confused about what I should do. My mom is angry with me. She is rude and biting with me, which may not seem like a lot, but from my mom it is. My mom is the most passive, passive-aggressive, pouty woman I know. She has never in my life treated me the way she does now. Besides daily pleasantries, she rarely actually spoke to me at all - hardly knew me. But now she is forceful and direct in speech.

insane.

For 26 years I have developed a pride in not relying on my mom. For anything. I comfort myself, I figure it out, I seek out my own answers. And it is this routine that she wants to break. For this wedding she wants to be a mom again - to be a mom to me.

And I can't abide it - can't make peace with it. I know I should make the effort and allow her this. But it eats at me. Why should I let her pretend that I haven't needed her? That her neglect didn't hurt? Why should I?

Logic says - to be a better person - to move on- to end it - forgive. Problem is I'm just not there yet. Or maybe I don't want to. yet.

She must love me.

If I ever needed proof that M is a good friend of mine I got it this weekend. I can see her now, six months pregnant with an additional pregnancy pillow attached to simulate the 8 months 1 week bulge she will have acquired by the date I get married. She bravely modeled the dress surrounded by the endless mirrors that broadcast her ill fitting, clothes pinned-four sizes too big bridesmaid dress. In front of god and country she allowed me to make her this hideous. She loves me that much. Or at least did before Friday.

My butt in what?

So here is the dress. I found it online (Maggie Sottero is an amazing designer in a world of white fluff) and by the grace of god I found it at a local botique. I love the fact that the train is small enough so that I can actually move in it. However, I have like two months to get my butt to fit in this get-up. Two months. Of course I'm terrified. Have you seen my butt? Two months.

But here is the question of the hour - two of them actually. (This process is testing my girliness to the limit!)
1. What color? (silk white, cameo pink, ivory, or champagne)
2. Where in the world can I find flat shoes to go with this that I will actually consider putting on my plank-feet?

Too good to be my truth

I hate to even write this.

It really is going to bite me in the butt, I'm sure.

But I will say it - I am really having a good time planning our wedding - fun even! The process, abbreviated as it is (New Years to April 7th!) has been going really smoothly. Even too smoothly. It is the January 22nd and there is nothing much left. Just trivial things. (you know marriage license, wedding rings, he, he) My man and I have been on the same page on every decision, we have been led to fantastic people and vendors. Recommendations have proven fruitful and we are putting together a gathering that reflects us.

So far - so good.

But at the brink of sleep logic intrudes. I know weddings are supposed to be stressful- a mess- a possibility for estrogen attacks of gigantic proportions, the material of urban myths. And yes, there certainly is time and ample time for things to unravel. But this "wedding thing" so far has been really exciting. Really hopeful and motivating. Scary, yes. But overwhelmingly fun to talk about with others, to bounce about ideas for, and to debrief about with veterans.

So I may now be plagued with wedding peril from every direction- but nothing can erase the 22 days of bliss previous. Winds of fortune - bring it on.

(knock on wood)

du, du, du, duh. . .

I don't know what it is about that ring, but I can't seem to stop looking at it. I don't know whether I keep an eye on it to see if it is real or if I've lost it yet. But it surprises me every time I look. I was surprised when I recieved it, I was surprised how natural it felt when I put it on, and I was really surprised at how it made me feel. I guess I just can't seem to comprehend that its my hand I am looking at.