Dancing at My Desk

Seven years ago, my husband and I started our journey of being husband and wife. But it definitely wasn’t your typical “wedding.” So, maybe you should hear the whole story.

My husband and I met through mutual friends in August of 2002 and began a whirlwind courtship in October. By New Year’s Eve, we were engaged and we were planning on a fall wedding in 2003. But my husband was in the United States Army Reserves at the time and with everything brewing in Iraq, we both knew that a deployment could happen at anytime.

So, on February 9th of 2003, I was visiting Eric at his dad’s house (we lived 2 1/2 hours apart at the time) when a phone call came in for my husband: Get ready to go to Minnesota. You’re getting activated for deployment.

Thus began a rather hectic week for us. I drove my husband to the airport the next morning (Monday) and tearfully kissed him goodbye. On the way to the airport, we made a huge decision: Let’s get married this week. (My note: My husband says we decided all of this while he was in Minnesota, but I remember it differently.)

I drove back home where my amazing parents helped me plan a wedding. We decided to keep it small and invite our closest friends and a few members of our family. We planned to get married in my parents’ living room and have a small reception dinner at Burgundy’s, a restaurant I used to work at in college in my hometown. The date (through some discussions with family) was set for February 15.

My husband was in Minnesota from Monday until Wednesday and he told me later that they kept changing the dates of his deployment (at one point, he was supposed to leave February 13) but he never told me of all the changes so I wouldn’t panic (good move).

On Tuesday, I bought my wedding dress: a white prom dress and sheer white jacket that cost a total of $35. We invited our friends and family to attend if they could. Also on Tuesday, I made the second phone call to my best friend from high school and left her another message asking her to call me back and let me know if she could be my maid of honor.

On Wednesday, I picked up my husband from the airport in Cleveland and on Thursday, we headed back to Lima to get our marriage license (which had to be expedited due to the unusual circumstances). We had a talk with a Justice of the Peace (who was actually one of my neighbors growing up) and he agreed to come to my parents’ house on Saturday. Thursday night, my husband headed back to the Cleveland area and my mom and I finished arranging things for the wedding (we got a tiered cake, bought a guest book and I picked up my husband’s wedding ring). After making a third call to my best friend from high school, I called my best friend from college and asked her if she would be willing to be my maid of honor. She said yes.

“What should I wear” she asked.

“Whatever you want,” I replied.

“So a blue flower print dress and combat boots is fine?”

“Sure, why not,” I said.

“And it doesn’t matter that I have pink hair?”

“Nope, no problem.”

So, that was taken care of, or so I thought.

Friday came and everything was still getting finalized. My husband had a bachelor party of sorts at Dave & Buster’s (if you’ve never heard of it, it’s kind of like a high-class Chuck E Cheese for adults) and I spent time with family at home. Yet another thing had taken my attention: a blizzard of sorts was brewing over the Buckeye state. And about half of our guests were from the Cleveland area. So now I had to have a backup for a maid of honor. I chose a mutual friend to both me and my husband, AJ, just in case Lindsay couldn’t make it.

Saturday morning and it’s time to get ready. My wonderful friend Adrian did my hair and my veil was the veil I wore in second grade for my First Communion, handmade by my dear Aunt Bea. The storm was still brewing and Lindsay had called to say she was on the road, but that things were going slow. Did we have our back up ready?

Yes, we have a backup.

Except, about 25 minutes later, I got a call saying AJ wouldn’t be able to attend. Her daughter was ill and they were hesitant to get on the road.

So, now I needed a backup to my backup. I chose my soon-to-be-sister-in-law Amy to stand in if necessary.

But, Lindsay showed up at my house about an hour later. And she wasn’t joking when she said she had pink hair. She still looked beautiful and I was grateful that she had made the trip. I finished getting ready and soon after, my husband arrived with his best man. (Yes, I peeked out the window. I don’t believe in superstitions.)

The ceremony was beautiful. My mom did an amazing job turning a living room into a wedding chapel of sorts. The ceremony was short and soon it was official: I was a wife.

Fast forward a couple of days and my husband dropped me off at my parents’ house and headed home (we didn’t live together nor did we have enough to get a place together). We lived apart from each other for nearly six months until Eric went active in the army and we moved to Upstate New York (but that’s for a whole other post).

For a while afterward, I kept thinking that we would have another wedding. A big, traditional wedding with lots of friends and family and dancing and all the fanfare that comes with it. But later I thought “Why?”

Our wedding was simple and yes, a little rushed.

Our wedding was non-traditional and intimate.

Our wedding wasn’t full of pomp and circumstance or fanfare.

But our wedding was perfect for us. And a wedding should be about the bride and groom. So it suited us perfectly.

I don’t need a big wedding to be married. And to be perfectly honest… knowing everything that happened and how differently my actual wedding was from what I dreamed about as a little girl, and knowing that my husband wouldn’t deploy to Iraq until 2005, I would still do it all over again.

In a heartbeat.

I’m so grateful to be married to the man that I’m with. He is my best friend, my soul mate. And yes, we’re untraditional and yes, we tend to do things quickly.

But it suits us. And seven years later, I can’t imagine anyone else I would want to be with.

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So the other night we were having some issues with our heater. This isn’t the first time we’ve dealt with this situation. We have oil heat, so sometimes we run a little too low or the oil delivery gets delayed by a day or two (while we run out in the meantime). Or the line freezes and we have to thaw it out by pouring hot water on the line and then we have to feed the oil into the heater (sound complicated? That’s because it is).

So, like I said it isn’t the first time that we’ve felt cold and checked the thermostat to see it about five degrees lower than what it should be. And it also isn’t the first time that I’ve woken up and could just tell that the heat was out without even getting out of bed.

But the kids had been sniffling. And I was preparing to head to Blissdom and certainly didn’t want to increase my chances of catching whatever the kids had. So I made an executive decision and packed the kids up and headed to the closest hotel for the night.

And what was the closest hotel? The illustrious Super 8.

Aw yeah. Bring it on!

But here’s the thing. I was really surprised by how nice it was. We had a huge room (about the size of 2 1/2 “normal” rooms in a Super 8 ) and the whole place was really clean. Not luxurious, mind you, but clean.

And it didn’t smell. Major bonus.

Now, my kids have stayed in a fair amount of hotels over their short lives. They have stayed in some pretty gross places with us (which we picked out of sheer desperation, trust me). Like the time that the major ice storm hit Cleveland and we were stuck on the highway and absolutely had to find a place. That wasn’t the greatest experience ever, but we survived. They’ve also stayed in some amazing places while I’ve travelled for work before like Four Seasons Toronto (a gorgeous luxury hotel if you ever get the opportunity).

So there we were at the Super 8, about 10 minutes from my house.

And they loved it. They’re so easy to please. Their favorite part? The mini-fridge in the room.

I hope they never lose their love of the simple things. I hope they always look for the good in any situation. I guess it’s my job to help them along the way. No, that’s not a guess. It’s a fact. It is part of my job. But I think that part of it is inborn. There’s just something about them that naturally gravitates in that direction. I love it. It makes the days easier sometimes.

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