Excuse me, This Dagger seems to be Stuck. Could one of you Drunk Girls take it out for me? - A Wedding Story

This past weekend our family attended a wedding in Brooklyn. There was a fair amount of drama prior to the wedding in regards to the groom's, er, um, cold feet shall we call it. The drama was significant enough that during the maid of honor's toast she said, "Last night after the rehearsal (the bride) said to (the groom), 'You better show up tomorrow'."

He showed up and the wedding went off without a hitch. Or with a hitch as it were. (lame I know) It was beautiful really. They got married in a stunning church. The same church that the groom's parents had gotten married in 55 years and 5 days earlier and he was fortunate enough to have both of them there. Their flower girl was so cute too. She totally stole the show.

Um, the flower girl is my kid in case you are slow on the uptake.

Here is where I get hit with the dagger. Not literally. I know I said there was drama, but really what kind of wedding did you think this was?

During the reception J.P. asked me if I was going to blog about the wedding. Now I feel obligated to. It's not like there isn't alot to talk about. I could talk about the man sitting in one of the front rows in a grey sweatsuit or how the groom seemed like he had been sedated. Or how I might have even asked the best man if he slipped the groom something prior to the wedding and while he denied doing so, he did admit he wished he'd thought of it.

Ah, Valium, helping brides and grooms get married since 1963 (I fact checked).

The thing is some thoughts and opinions are better off left in your head. Some thoughts could be considered hurtful or create drama. Now I love a good fiction but I despise creating or participating in real life drama. Hate it. So now I walk a fine line. Thanks alot, J.P.

In addition to the beautiful wedding that did, in fact, end in a marriage, the reception was alot of fun. They had it at Genaros in Brooklyn and it was practically flawless. One of the bride's friends was telling me how she had her daughter's 1st birthday there and they did a great job. You heard that right, she had her kid's 1st birthday party catered in a fancy restaurant. My kids got grandparents and a homemade cake. Whatever, they can talk to their therapists about it when I'm dead.

At the end of the night I passed off a sleeping Braden to his Uncle Tony and was running downstairs to the bathroom in preparation for a long drive home when I ran into J.P.'s Girl and Metro Dan's Girl. They were drunk. So drunk, and perfectly delightful. They went on and on about how my son should be an Abercrombie model, and how well behaved and wonderful my kids are. Metro Dan's Girl explained to me with sweeping hand motions that only the truly drunk can use how she's a teacher (I'm sure she's sober at work) and so many kids are ill-behaved but my kids are so amazing that it makes her want to have four kids of her own. (were you aware of this Metro Dan?)

While the girls were gushing about what great kids I have I decided that I totally loved them and wanted to keep them. They can follow me around and cheer me on through life.

Correct toll change. Great job.

Cooked a delicious and healthy meal for my family. High five.

Successfully potty trained a child? I get a homemade cookie.

I think everyone should get their own cheerleaders, you know, people that can help pull the daggers out.