Weddingbee

You may recall when we last left Mr. Hummingbird, he was experiencing quite the harrowing wedding morning. He was in a state of rage as two of the centerpiece’s flowers had broken off, leaving the centerpieces uneven, and the day, potentially ruined.

And now again, ladies and gentlemen…Mr. Hummingbird.

After they calmed me down, we got the remainder of the flowers onto the tables. My brother and Alex then prepared to take off to Milton so that Alex could get checked into the hotel, and also to pick up any guests who might be there already. During this time, the caterer showed up, and asked me where he should drive the van around to get to the tent. I directed him to come around the back side of the house, specifically telling to stay up on the slope, because driving low on the hill would get his van stuck in the mud. This had happened several weeks before, and my dad had to spend two days filling in the holes and reseeding the grass.

So the catering van came rolling around the side of the house, on THE FLAT PART! I watched in horror as the wheels disappeared into the yard and heard the sickening sound of them spinning uselessly in the mud. Meanwhile, on the other side of the house, my brother and Alex were just pulling out of the driveway, and saw this happen as well. They also heard a strange noise from the backyard which they’re fairly sure was me yelling. So what did they do?

They drove away as fast as possible! The worst part is that I can’t even blame them. I would have gotten the hell out of there if I could have.

The catering van that broke the camel’s back.

So, my dad and a couple of bored neighbours started working on dislodging the van, while the catering staff started hauling stuff out of the van and across the yard to begin setting up. After my 100th trip trudging through the mud trying to get all the cakes and table cards and favours (actually favours, not swearing this time) out to the tent, I felt incredibly discouraged. It was getting close to t-minus one hour, I was the only one setting things up, and a whole year’s worth of planning seemed to be going to waste because guests were going to arrive to find a sunken van, a muddy pit, empty tables with uneven numbers of flowers, and me curled up in a ball biting my own kneecaps.

At this point, Gina, my stepmother, came out to see if I was doing okay. And in a display of rugged manliness, I broke down and cried on her shoulder for two solid minutes.

After that we jumped back into action. I started rattling off everything that still needed to be done, including setting up tables with toiletries at the porta-potties, finding platters to put cakes on, and a dozen other things I can’t remember. Gina, trooper that she is, went at it with a vengeance. When my brother and Alex got back from the hotel, they found her covered in mud, ironing my pants. (Later on during the reception, when we were taking photos with the parents, Gina was saying that she didn’t have to be in the photos with my parents, but I insisted because she was the best family member I could have had when the situation was so grim. I could not have gotten through that day without her.)

Left to right: my mother, me, the amazingly helpful Gina, and my Dad.

But, back to the setup. With less than an hour to go, my dad popped outside and told me to start getting ready. Just as I came back into the house, Kim called to tell me that the bridal party would be arriving in less than a minute. My response was as follows:

“SON OF A BOUQUET! ARE YOU FAVORING KIDDING ME?! I STILL HAVE TO TAKE A FAVORING SHOWER, AND I CAN’T FAVORING WELL DO THAT IF YOU’RE ALL GOING TO BE COMING DOWN THE SAME FAVORING HALL, CAN I? AND I’M SORRY THAT I’M FAVORING YELLING AT YOU, BUT I’M JUST REALLY FAVORING STRESSED RIGHT NOW! I’M NOT ACTUALLY YELLING AT YOU! BUT SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FAVOR!?”

She hung up at this point, and apparently she filtered the message and passed it along as “He’s fine.” Hey, I least I apologized while yelling.

I went and got ready in my dad’s room to avoid any run-ins with Mrs. Hum, and then my brother came and told me to go downstairs and play on the Wii. I told him I had to go out and greet people, and make sure John was starting the music, and that the usher got the programs etc. etc.

“No you don’t,” he insisted. “Now go downstairs and play Wii.” And so we went downstairs and played Wii until the ceremony (and he thoroughly stomped me, since I was such a bundle of nerves).

When the ceremony came, it was such a relief for me to see Mrs. Hum walking down the aisle. Not because she looked so beautiful (which she did), not because the wedding was finally here, but because she and I are a team. With her coming back to me, I knew I finally had my partner back, and I was not about to do anything without her again.

(When we went to sign the registry, I finally got to talk to Mrs. Hum and tell her about my day. Apparently some of our guests got all misty eyed by how excited and affectionate we seemed to be now that we were married, but really it was just me telling the now Mrs. Hum about how my morning went, and her consoling me. Alex even caught her saying “I’m so sorry” on the camera’s mic.)

Recounting my tale of mud and survival to Mrs. Hummingbird.

And as it turned out, people were fine about the mud, the catering van got dislodged (thank you CAA), no one cared how many flowers were at their table, and everything somehow came together for an amazing evening, but what a morning!
I still can’t favoring believe it.

How did your wedding morning go? Was it a success like Mrs. Hummingbird’s or a disaster like Mr. Hum’s? Share your story.

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