Tag Archives: marriage
I changed my name recently – getting married can do that to you. The thing is, I keep forgetting.
There’s nothing like being unable to place your own name to make other people think you’re an idiot. It doesn’t help when you forget your address in the same sentence. Bloody forms. Why do they always need your name and address anyway? Stupid passports. You’d have thought a terribly unflattering picture would be enough.
Anyway, when I married the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine I decided not to follow my new husband’s suggestion and call myself Mrs Northern Love Machine. Instead I took his actual name: Weaver. Continue reading
It’s 7am and the house is silent, waiting.
I’m the first one to wake. Butterflies are dancing in my stomach. I haven’t felt this way since Christmas Day when I was nine.
It’s my wedding day.
Next to me, still fast asleep, is one of my best friends and bridesmaids, Ruth. We had an early night after a glass of wine and some pizza with my sister and other best friend, Ellen. The baby is still asleep in her bedroom next door.
I pad downstairs and put the kettle on, to try and still the dancing butterflies. I open the back door to check the weather and smile as the sun touches my face.
Despite Gary Barlow’s best efforts, I’m officially off the market.
That’s right, I am now *gasp* a “Mrs”. I have a new husband, name and marital status.
This time one week ago I was slugging down wine and preparing for the first dance. I was still attempting to teeter around on too-high shoes (my new husband is six foot five, so the high shoes were a necessity) and look elegant in my beautiful dress. But the alcohol was also starting to take it’s toll, so the veil had been ditched and the laughing was getting a little raucous. Continue reading
I’m getting married in the morning. No really, I am.
I’ve managed to
hoodwink persuade a real-life, actual man to promise to spend the rest of his life with me. I know, I can’t believe it either.
The man in question isn’t in the house this evening. He’s been turfed out into a nearby hotel, along with about ten million family members from all corners of the country. They’re all in separate rooms though, obviously. Continue reading
Everyone has an opinion about weddings. The “right” way to do them, the “wrong” way, what’s symbolic and what’s just plain tacky. A bit like parenting, weddings can divide and bring together.
And that is exactly why we’ve had such trouble choosing our first dance.
We’re not particularly traditional people. We did everything the wrong way round to start with, having a baby first and all. And we’re not getting married in a church. So I was all for ditching the first dance altogether. But then I realised the endless possibilities. Continue reading
Ever since I started blogging, I’ve been jealous of other parents who have children who can talk. The sheer amount of blog material you lot get out of your speaking offspring is unbelievable.
As Frog is only 13 months old, her vocabulary isn’t particularly wide at the moment. She’s got to grips with “Mummy” and “Daddy” and “Gagaga”, “Bababa” and “Eeeeeeeeeeee”. But that’s about it. Nothing hugely amusing, I think you’ll agree.
But yet again, the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine has stepped up to the plate. Where his daughter has failed, he has taken up the mantle. Continue reading
I’m experiencing some serious overcrowding problems at the moment.
We live in a two bedroom cottage, with a buggy and a million toys and baby paraphernalia stuffed into every nook and cranny. But that’s not the problem.
I feel as if my head is about to explode, as the pressure of a thousand thoughts builds to a worrying crescendo.
It’s the wedding. And work. And the baby. And those table plans. And articles. And meetings. And the radio work. And the accounts to keep on top of. And the copywriting project. And the childcare issues. And the never-ending pile of washing. And the emails – the bloody emails. They’re down to my ankles and up to my neck. Continue reading