I was trying on my dress to figure out any last-minute alterations I might need to have done, when I realized that the wedding is tomorrow, and not only was I the Diva of Honour, but Husband is the bride's brother and was a groomsman as a result, and Kiddos #1 and #2 were flower girl and ring bearer respectively, and HOLY CRAP the wedding is tomorrow!
Yes, Diva of Honour-- when my sister-in-law asked me to be her Matron of Honour, I said, "Only if we can change that title. Ugh!" Seriously. Matron? Why such a crap name? I've been Diva of Honour twice now, and I must say, it really jazzes up some of the less-than-Divaesque bits (like holding the bride's dress up while she pees). But I digress.
Once the panic of the next day's events set in, I started running around the house in my gown. Sweating and panting, it was apparent my lack of preparation had already hit biblical proportions. I had no other choice; I got out of my dress and back into my Mommy Clothes and went into the basement. I began wading through 25 thousand boxes of baby clothes and general baby paraphernalia, and I found our industrial spotlight, dusted it off and trucked it upstairs to the backyard. I plugged it in and waited patiently. After a few minutes of nothing, I went back inside to put the children to bed (life goes on while awaiting the results of a floodlight request) and just as Husband and I were sitting down to write our speech for the reception, I heard trumpets sounding outside. Almost right on cue, Super Girlfriend appeared.
Her silhouette in the moonlight was beautiful. Calmly she stood, cape floating gently in the breeze. "Elizabeth? How can I help?" She asked while lifting the elephant from my shoulders with her pinky finger. Thank you, Super Girlfriend.
While Husband and I hashed out our speech, which was meant to be funny, poignant and self-deprecating, with a side of gently-roasted bride, Super Girlfriend nodded in encouragement. She also stopped the whole thing from becoming a full-on domestic, by saying such clever, super-phrases as, "Are you sure this is the right story for this example?" and "Elizabeth, perhaps you need to calm down." Super, indeed.
The next morning, when the baby started the day at 4:11, Super Girlfriend used her super-singing-voice to get the baby to go back to sleep for another two and a half hours. At 6:30, she zoomed around the kitchen preparing a breakfast buffet for our family. I can only assume she used her super powers to find waffles, an assortment of pastries, cereal, bacon and eggs, strawberry-stuffed french toast and three varieties of freshly squeezed juice; I know none of these things were in my house the night before. I was on grocery hiatus due to Hurricane Wedded-Bliss coming in from the East.
Once we finished eating, Super Girlfriend watched the children while I had a long, hot shower. She then stopped time to give me a chance to do my make-up and hair before heading over to the salon to do the Bride's make-up. Super Girlfriend: Where have you been all my life?
While I did my Diva of Honour duty at the salon, Super Girlfriend took care of the children; when I came back to get them ready, she got a call from Commissioner Gordon to nab some miscreants at the local bank. It was like I'd never had children before: I completely forgot how to get them primped, dressed and keep them clean after without Super Girlfriend there with her magic.
After SG arrested the badguys (they all happened to be guys this time) and got her medal of honour, she returned. She used her super speed to chase down Kiddo #2 and then dusted him with sleeping glitter. Meanwhile, I got Kiddo #1 into her flower girl dress. SG then placed a protective bubble around Kiddo #1 so she could run around outside without messing up her hair, (wee bit of) make-up, or dress.
We got to the Bride's abode and took some great pictures with the other bridesmaids. Super Girlfriend, like The Barbapapas, stretched herself into a giant tent to block the hot sun without compromising the photographer's outdoor pictures. When it came time to walk down the aisle, Super Girlfriend turned herself invisible and helped me pull the wagon carrying Kiddo #2 (not quite able to walk on his own) without bashing it into the maze of tight corners I had to take. Super Girlfriend used her laser-vision to instantly dry the sweat eking from my pores and tears streaming down my face so that my buttercream dress was kept in pristine condition, all the while keeping her third eye and both hands on Kiddos 1 and 2.
After the ceremony, she changed the baby and fed the pre-schooler. During the reception, she made sure baby was sleeping and even cut a rug with me on the dance floor. Heck, she also managed to have great conversations with many wedding guests and Husband. She didn't get her moniker randomly, let me tell you. When a storm blew in and threatened to cancel the festivities, she, once again, stretched into a canopy and wrapped herself around the outside of the tent. She bore the storm like the pounding rain was nothing more than feathers from a pillow fight so that we mere mortals could continue dancing.
When it was time to go home, Super Girlfriend got her invisible jet (on loan from Wonder Woman) and took all of us home. She tucked us all in bed and disappeared into the night.
Super Girlfriend, if you're out there, thank you for saving our family. We couldn't've had a wonderful wedding without you. But, uh, I noticed that you maybe, probably by mistake, took the floodlight we used to call you. That was a mistake, right? I mean, how am I supposed to call you next week when I need to get Kiddo #2 to soccer practice? And, like, you left your extra cape-- but there aren't any instructions, so like, can you email me how to use it to keep the kids clean? And not to be snotty, but it would've been nice if you could've stayed a few extra minutes to clean out my car-- it's full of random snack foods and crap, plus the kitchen is kinda a mess from your Saturday Smorgasbord-- how did waffle get on the ceiling, anyway?
Just sayin'. I mean, ok. Sorry. Thanks and all that, but, just next time, could you stick around a little longer? Or maybe, like, move in?
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To get automatic updates via email, enter yours in the box under the Gerbera daisy and click submit. If you landed here looking for Tangled-themed Party info, click on the archive for June 12th, 2011. Thanks!
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