Jarrett & I talk about our future children. A lot. We have each decided on a names for a boy and a girl, but we’re so ridiculous that there is no way we will tell anyone. Not until the little lamb is on their way. Maybe even here. I had someone “steal” a name from me before (an old friend that I happened to tell my at-the-time choice for a girl name, Addison, and when she had her daughter a year later she used that name), and there’s no way I’m running that risk again. Especially now that they could be on their way in within just a few years now, since Jarrett & I planned to start trying a year after we’re married.
I picked a girl name, and he picked a boy name. And we each pick one middle name for them. My girl’s first name means “cheerful”, and was most popular in 1959. One of her middle names means “lion”, it’s pulled from my mom’s middle name, and was most popular in 1880. Our boy’s name means “pledge”, and was most popular in 1930. The middle name I chose was my dad’s, which means “supplier”, and was most popular in 1950.
I think a lot about the children I hope we’ll be lucky enough to have. I have all of these ideas and plans and hopes for them. Is it normal to think of something so much that is so far into the future?
I hate it when a show like Glee can make me cry. But it definitely did tonight.
This scene sunk right into my heart and kept pulling at those strings, tighter and tighter. I remember the first time I saw Jarrett, and to think that we’re in this spot now, it’s unbelievable and overwhelming and amazing.
I was at work, and he worked for a company that we had a contract with. He was making a delivery to the job site we were at, and I just remember seeing this chubby guy with tattoos and thinking he was the cutest thing. I told my coworker later about him, and for months I had an intense crush on him. From August until October, I thought about him and wondered if he had a girlfriend. We talked, but it was small talk, and I never thought he was into me. Finally in October, I gathered up enough courage and asked him out for coffee. “Oh my god, of course. Yes. Definitely.” I was smitten. And hooked. And head over heels before I even knew it.
Our first anniversary is in two days. Dinner, and Beauty & the Beast. I’d be happy even if we just went for a walk around the block and curled up in bed together. I hate how corny I’m about to be, but it’s true when I say being with him is all I need.
We have a lunch date set up with our prospective photographers for the 28th, at 1pm. I suggested the Blue Plate Diner, as it’s been one of my favourites for a long time and in turn became one of Jarrett’s. “That’s one of our favourite restaurants!” - once she said that, I knew I found the perfect match.
Jarrett & I don’t have many photos together. Well, one really. With Matt Good, and that was just taken in November. That’s why it’s so important to me that Sunny & Jess, our photographers, fit with us well. We want someone that loves what they do for work, and that are passionate about it. These girls, who honestly could be in their 50s and I wouldn’t know since we’ve never met and I’ve never even seen a photo of either of them, quit their regular every day jobs in 2010 to pursue this. There are photographers who do it as a weekend gig, which isn’t what I wanted. I need someone whose livelihood was photographer.
With the photography package we’re getting, we also get a two hour engagement photoshoot, and a two hour one year anniversary photoshoot. I have this silly little daydream of finding this perfect photographer, and having them there for the engagement photoshoot, the wedding, and photos on every anniversary (yes, I said every). And then, AND THEN, maternity photoshoots, baby photoshoots, and what they call “lifestyle” photoshoots (just us, the kids, and the pets). We didn’t have a lot of photos growing up, and when I go to find some of my dad, it’s nearly impossible. I want our children to be able to look back and photos and see how we grew as a family.
So we’re meeting them at our favourite restaurant, and I can’t help but feel like it’s come full circle in some sort of way. I was there three years ago with an old high school friend for the first time, and fell in love. I went there for my 25th birthday, and couldn’t help but notice the cute bartender. My friends kept urging me to talk to him, but I was in the throes of a deep crush on Jarrett at this point and felt that I had to keep myself single. A few months later, Jarrett and I then went on one of our first dates there. For my birthday last month, we went with my mom and big group of friends, and then two weeks later I went back with my mom telling her that I was pretty sure Jarrett was going to propose soon. And now, we’re meeting with our photographer. For our wedding.
It’s intense, to know that one of the things I’ve wanted for so longer is not only within my reach, but it’s curled up asleep in my hands. There was always that side of me that couldn’t wait to get married and start a family. The children won’t happen for a couple of years, yet, but it’s still such a wonderful feeling to know that it’s all finally possible. There were many, many times in which I convinced myself I didn’t want to get married or have children, and I think that this was a way to cope with the fact that I was ridiculously single at the time and about to give up all hope.
It’s cliche, but it really does happen when you least expect it.
There have been some changes regarding the wedding. Jarrett & I are still very in love, very engaged, and very excited to be husband & wife - don’t worry about that. But we decided things needed to be done our way. After this weekend wherein I felt ganged up on by my future mother-in-law, and her cousin (Jarrett always refers to her as “Aunt ____” though), because of the fact that I’m still keeping my maiden name in some form, I decided I was sick of the pressure and stress and we re-evaluated everything.
Oh, and by “keeping my maiden name in some form”, I mean that I’m legally changing it to a second middle name and then I’m taking Jarrett’s last name. I love my last name, we are the only ones in North America with this last name, and it’s always been important to me. However, I love Jarrett and as progressive as I like to think I am, there are still parts of me that are old fashioned. And I want to take his name as well. I would hate to have a hyphenated name (it’d be a collective 15 letters long and I can’t do that to myself, or our kids) so this, I think, is the perfect compromise. But when Jarrett’s mom found it, it was apparently ridiculous, offensive, and “not what a woman is supposed to do”. Fuck that.
So after a heated argument and a cut off phone conversation, Jarrett & I sat down and started talking about the wedding. Maybe we should just accept that, with money coming from his parents, his mom will continue to think she has every right to tell us how to run our relationship, wedding, and future marriage. When we were initially engaged, we came up with a nice guestlist of 50 people. His mom didn’t like this and quickly tacked on 55 more people. “What’s the problem? It’s not like you’re paying for it.” She didn’t get it. She doesn’t understand how anxious I get around large groups of people, and how I was already having panic attacks thinking of all the time I had to put into everything. I shit you not, I have cried more in this past month than I have in a year. As I was saying, we had this nice list of 50 people, which quickly jumped to 105. She decided on a hall for us, even before we saw it. I had a photographer picked out, but she said her cousin’s daughter’s neighbour is a photographer and we would just have to pay for film. Then there was all the little in betweens, and it was just too much.
When we were talking the other night, I asked him “What is the most important thing out of all of this?”. He said, “I just want to be your husband.” So we decided to get rid of every plan we had, and start from scratch. We’re paying for everything ourselves. We’re having the original 50 people we wanted. No big reception, no big ceremony. Jarrett & I are introverts. The idea of 100 people watching me dance with my new husband makes me feel physically ill. I kept telling myself I’d be okay with it, but I know me. And I’m the girl that would have her mom call her in as sick so she didn’t have to stand up in front of her class and recite the report she had put days upon days worth of work into. Some would say my mom enabled me, but my mom understood me. She saved me. Okay, I’m getting off track.
I’m still making the invitations (I kind of have no choice since I bought the supplies already), but this time it’ll be for the ceremony at a tiny little gazebo that overlooks the River Valley. And then we are going to book a banquet room at a restaurant (not sure which yet, we are planning on checking a few places out) and after the ceremony we are heading there. Small, intimate, and fun. No dancing. No cake. No bouquet toss. No chicken dance. Just a quick ceremony, and then socializing while eating delicious food.
Also, I bought my dress yesterday. From ModCloth. For $25.
Jarrett’s mom is going to be livid. We both know this. We decided to tell her in a few weeks. But, I know I’ll regret my wedding day (not the marriage, just how we go about it) if I keep saying yes to her just to stop her from crying (she’s done it three times already). And, she’ll get over it. She’ll get over it, and Jarrett and I will have exactly what we want.
We’re paying for the officiant, photographer, my dress, his outfit, our rings, and the banquet room. $1500. Cheapest fucking wedding ever, and that’s exactly what I want.
The Gazebo we’re hoping to get.
It’s at the top of the River Valley, so this is generally what our view will be:
Last month, on Christmas, was the best moment of my life. I should say day, really. Christmas was the best day of my life. After unwrapping the cardboard box version of a Matryoshka doll, Jarrett was down on one knee in front of me. I don’t remember much, since I was drowning in my own tears, but I do remember saying yes. And I honestly could not be happier.
And now we’re in the full swing of planning. We set a date for July 13, 2013 - most people are saying, “Oh! You have plenty of time!” but in all honesty, with how much I’m planning on doing, I need that year and a half.
So, in true cliche bride-to-be fashion, this is going to go from my blog about living with my boyfriend, to a blog about living with my fiance and planning our future wedding.
We’re at this place in our relationship now where we’re beyond comfortable with each other. I remember spending time at my friend’s house a few years ago, and I would kind of be in awe of how close/comfortable they were. I definitely wanted that. I wanted someone who I could really be a complete loser with. I say and do the dumbest things, and he laughs. He actually laughs!
My first birthday with him, and our first Christmas together are in less that two months. And our first New Years together, and our first anniversary are both in January. I have so much to look forward to, I can’t even comprehend it.
We’re going shopping for Christmas decorations next weekend!
I had a dream last night that we got married. In a small room, with no more than 20 guests. I don’t remember my dress, I just remember all of this *white* hanging off me. I’ve never worn so much white in my life. We had to stand up on a wooden pedestal of some sort that was high enough to require us to put on foot up first, and then push ourselves the rest of the way. Once we were up there, I was uncomfortable (the height and the fact that all eyes were on us, and being the center of attention isn’t particularly my favourite thing) and so we decided to get down to ground level.
I don’t remember much, except for the fact that Elie Goulding was playing in the background (most likely because I was listening to my iPhone as I slept and this song was on the playlist), and that we cried. A lot.
There are bits and pieces of the reception, which was also in the same room, but I only remember brief flashes. His best man smiling at us, my mom crying, his dad coming in for a hug.
I woke up, rolled over, and saw him laying next to me. It couldn’t have been more perfect.
The other day is was seven months for us. It’s weird to think it’s only been slightly over half of a year for us. I’m so much more comfortable around him than I ever was with anyone else; even my ex-boyfriend who I had been with for two years.
Moving in with someone has definitely been a bit of an adjustment. And, of course me being me, the fact that this is *it* has subconsciously affecting me. I think it scared me to, to be this safe/secure in a relationship. This guy, he really isn’t going anywhere. What makes me so special? That comes from a lack of self-confidence, I know this. But at the same time, my doubts have been correct before which just deepens this subconscious cancer I had developed over the two of us.
Last night I was in a terrible, awful mood. He came home from work, and I was just ridiculous. Snapping at him, all around being rude in general. We took the pups for a walk, and I was even worse. I hate that version of me. We got back in, and as he was about to take a shower he just pulled me in for a kiss even though I protested (when I’m that cranky, I hate being touched). He told me to just “shut up already” (in a way that only he can make seem loving) and kissed me. Next thing I know, I’m smiling and giggling. I just melted. I can actually pinpoint the moment when I felt the resistance subside.
Then … that dream. And I wake up this morning feeling completely/entirely different. When I get weird, it’s never anything to do with him. It’s always me. It’s my own issues and worries and past mistakes/choices. It’s taking a lot of work on my end and a lot of patience on his, because I definitely have my “days”. But Lord knows it’s worth it.
Lovers in a Dangerous Time - Barenaked Ladies/Bruce Cockburn
I now live with a boy. Funny thing is is that it feels totally natural. I look back at the post I made wherein I was nearly shitting my pants, and honestly … I can’t believe I felt that way.
Last night I got a phone call from my brother’s girlfriend. She was using his phone, he was in the background ushering her to just “ask already”, and so she did. She wanted to know what time he showed up to help us move this past Saturday. When I cleared the time, and obviously his name, I asked why. Turns out she was accusing him of “running around on her”.
I couldn’t believe it. I cannot imagine a relationship where I have to call my significant other’s friends and family to confirm what they’re saying and to subside my worries. That is not a relationship.
I come home to an apartment that actually feels like home. It’s pretty amazing. I used to hate being in my old apartment. I don’t miss it at all. This is where I’m supposed to be.
Our styles/tastes/interests have collided and we now have a movie collection where “Highlander” is next to “High Fidelity”. Science fiction next to my books on feminism. Blue & yellow plaid blanket on the couch with the deep purple throw pillows. I made the curtains in our living room a few years ago. He says he likes them, but I know it’s a compromise on his part, and I love him even more for it.