Weddings: the disasters

  

 Weddings--we have all have been there.

 

 .

Generally, at one time or another everyone manages to attend one or more weddings.  Pretty generic most of the time, but sometimes amazing things happen at weddings.  Not just the expensive wedding gown, flowers, etc. But surprising and memorable things.

At my own wedding, my-almost-husband fainted, dropped down like a sack of feed.  Down.  Out cold.  He was okay, we ended up married, so all was well.  However, my small town of 427 had years of stories like that. Our wedding, now 50 years past, is still remembered.

 

Then there are the melting cakes.  

I personally have been at three family weddings where the heat and humidity caused the cakes to droop with icing cascading down the layers. 

My sister’s cake—the layers nearly slid off each other, onto the table. It was June in Illinois, humid as a river running through the town.

  

My sis-in-law’s wedding in Chicago, mid-July, the icing was sagging and turning into a puddle.  

Same thing with another sis-in-law--pure sugar water fall. 

Some weddings are sunny mornings with the tent all set up, tables with tablecloths, with crowning wedding cake in the center of dance floor. 

  

Then a storm whips up, winds sweep, and all disappear into the manicured grass. Awesome. Have been in some storm reception in that.

 

But, the best part is the wedding cake.  I love eating wedding cake.  Skip the chicken and broccoli, let’s move on to the wedding cake.

Those weddings are the best—when something goes wrong and people have to problem solve.   

 

 

Those are the great.

 

Of course, the cake would be interesting, esp. when it is falling to the ground. I've been there.Saw it all. 

 

It didn't go well. 

 

Anyone out there have such a memorable wedding?

 

 

Our Babies with Their Babies

Since 2014, our son is married and has 2 small boys; Our youngest daughter
is married and has 2 sons. Our oldest daughter has two girls, cuddling up to us.

 

We were 10 years younger then, and many pounds heavier. Thankfully, we are thinner, and we are older; things hurt more.

On one trip to Switzerland allowed our three grown-up children and their off-spring to be together.  Like proud parents, we stood back and enjoyed their interactions.  They have grown so much, accomplished more than we or they expected, and become successful adults.

Even in our glowing observing, we could not help but notice that WE were also be observed. 

Christmas 2018 at Disneyland

Sitting in the family room (me on the floor) while we played cars and trucks with our grand kids, these three (with their spouses) leaned in closely, talking in low voices.  

Occasionally one would glance our way and then turn back to the group.  One would point at us.  One would indicate some body part where we were currently experiencing pain.  

All were serious.  Sympathetic. 

My husband suggested,  “They have great senior facilities here…”

I looked at my husband and him at me.  “You know,” I whispered, “Euthanasia is legal here in Switzerland.”

We looked back at our precious adult children.  They quickly looked away and moved to the kitchen.  

Then we resumed play with grandchildren.  Life is good as grandparents when there are Legos and toys available, and the children who have a glow about them.

Someday they will be sitting on the floor with their own grandchildren. Lucky people. Life is fun, life is good. 

Freedom! Freedom almost.

 

The door swung open to Samuel's home, where his parents also lived. The Mommy dropped the groceries on the table and tossed Samuel into the playpen. “Be right back!” Mommy whisked out the door.

Samuel waited, listened. He had the time, the strength, and he could do this. 

 

Throwing the blue pacifier over the railing, Samuel hoisted his shwweet whittle laygees over the railing and did a practiced roll. With his hands up for balance, Samuel began the newly discovered walking power: stagger-stagger-wobble. 

‘Focus, man, focus!’ The words hammered in his 14 month brain. ‘Ignore the Cheerios under the couch!”

Samuel reached the spot where he nailed Grammie with projectile vomit. She was  saying, “Gwamma wuvs dose shwweeet whittle legees…” Blaaaagh, and she was stopped. Good times.

Almost there, Samuel pictured the freedom:  chase the kitty, taste the flowers, squish mud. Such fine adventures, and he was almost there.

The Mommy swooped through the door and knocked over Samuel. She swept him up. “Mommy wuvs dose pwessus whittle laygees…”

Samuel tried to say, “Dammit woman! Can’t you speak the King’s English?” All that came out was a cry and some spit-up. The door swung shut.

Written 2012. Chronicles of Samuel blog site. 

Oh, how I love writing the unexpected.