Weddingbee Blog

The tulle has gathered dust, the glasses are packed away, wrapping lays on the floor, but I’m still basking in my honeymoon glow. My thoughts are cluttered like every room in my house and as much as I need to organize physically, I’m also still mentally processing the happenings of our wedding week.

I think that before the wedding day, I thought that I would magically feel married once we said our vows. I felt that maybe I was just suited to be a Mrs. and it would be lovely, natural transition. A week later, I still feel remarkably like myself. I’m wearing an extra ring, I look at the pictures, and I know that I am married. Despite this, I’m still just me.

I asked the Lambster how long he thought it would take us to get used to living together. In my head, I was estimating about 6 months. “On the order of years,” he replied. I think he’s right. To feel married, to feel as one, to have it all sink in and experience the implications of joining two lives - yes, I think that will take more than half a year.

I’ve ridden dozens of emotions through the process of getting married. Sadness to leave my home, happiness to see dear friends, calmness to say my vows, peacefulness to wake the next morning beside my husband, weirdness to realize I have a new life. I’m letting it all wash over me.

Though I’ve set a pensive mood for this post, it really hasn’t been a week full of philosophizing, chewing pencil ends, and staring out the window. I saved those moments for the several car trips and the hours of unpacking. The rest of the time, I’ve been filled with warmth as I’ve reminisced about the many sweet times of the wedding weekend. To give you a taste, I want to show you what is probably my favorite moment of the evening, the moment I knew that my new name came with a very special privilege:

Both photos taken by my friend, Denise

Lamma-ramma-ding-dong looks like a kid on Christmas morning (errr during Hanukkah), his hands clasped and eyes lit up. I’m oscillating between sheer joy and sheer terror as I laugh until my stomach hurts and my knuckles go white from grasping the chair. Oh yes, I may philosophize and I may still feel like me, but gosh, I love being a ’stein!