03 September, 2010


Our wedding was just lovely.

When the-perfection-of-the-planning met the-honesty-of-real-life, the kinds of memories that defined it as our wedding were made.  The unity candle that wouldn't stay lit because of the nice breeze.  The bride who interrupted the final song because she wanted to make a few announcements.  The adorable daughter who fell asleep halfway through the photos. 

These are the things that we'll remember; these are the stories we'll tell to that sleepy daughter someday.  And now we have one more story to add to the list:  our wedding thank-you notes.  We spent a long time procrastinating figuring out exactly what we wanted our stationary to look like.  Should we have only our first names?  Should we have a monogram?  Should we have just the initial of our last name?  One line or two lines?  Uppercase or lower? So many options - truthfully it was a bit overwhelming.  So we decided on both of our full names; and we chose a simple silver accent color, with engraved lettering.  The proof online looked absolutely perfect.  And I loved it.

Cut to about a week later when we received the small, heavy box with note cards and envelopes.  I open the box with anticipation, the perfection of the online order in my head... only to find the real life version looking like this*:


Long story short - we decided to chalk it up to just another one of those quirky things that we'll remember years later with a laugh.  Really nice card stock.  Shiny silver border.  And no space before or after the "&" sign.  The perfectionist in me finds it a bit hard to believe that I'll actually be laughing at this in the future... but if someone told me 2 years ago that my life would be what it is today, I'd have found that hard to believe as well.  Anything is possible.

* Names changed to protect the innocent.

02 September, 2010


Sometimes my husband is wise beyond his years.  The other night we were having a good conversation about making sure we continue to communicate with each other as best as we are able; we're usually very good at this - communicating - but on this particular night, a deep rooted habit of mine was getting in the way: the fear of being a "nag". 

I am my mother's daughter.  99% of the time, I put others' needs, others' joys, others' wants ahead of my own - I'm a people pleaser.  And quite often, doing something to make another person happy in turn makes me happy.  But there is a time when this habit can get in my own way: when I need help.  Mostly, I'm not very good at asking for help.  I multi-task.  I cook almost every night (even when my beau offers to make something).  I don't even use the intern at work for much - I make my own copies, reconcile my own bills, do my own filing.  Somewhere along the line, I began to think that asking for help - asking someone else to do something I could probably handle on my own - was naggish, was whiny, was just not me.  I'm the people pleaser!  I'm the do-er! 

As we may very well have learned from Dubya, ("I'm the decider!") sometimes it's best to ask others for help instead of thinking you can handle everything yourself.

Maybe all I needed was someone to tell me it's okay to ask for help.  Just make the ask.  And when you do, perhaps you'll get what you need.