To start with, my babies aren’t coming to the wedding.

Just in case you thought this was a post about that kind of thing.

No. This is an adult only affair and I am glad. I love my babies but would they love a wedding? I don’t think so.

The invite arrived to our welcome.  We were happy to be asked, glad to go.

Time passed.

Suddenly it is here and I am all over the place.

I know. We aren’t bringing children. This does not mean the organisation load is lessened.

Oh no.

It is an epic event. Organising the sitter. The food. The sleeps. The lifts. The cars. Pre planning. Pre shopping.  Thinking ahead. I am the Thinker Ahead in our world. I am the Pre Planner. Work is busy, our evenings hectic and we are on the ‘eat (when we can), sleep (we wish), work (yup that always seems to be the case)’ hamster wheel and there is NO TIME for organising around Epic Events. I have squeezed in the planning into every spare minute of thought and action.

Sonething has got to give.

In this case it was my fashion.

Also our car’s cleanliness.

I almost bought a new dress. Emerald green. Knee length. Cap sleeves. 100 euro. Didn’t do it. Put it off.

Tried on my old dress.

Tears.

It just looks horrible. My Two Babies in Two Years Belly is poking out nastily, almost asking people to think I am still pregnant. At least six months,they must mutter.

Sigh.

I have pulled out an oldie gown, so old it must be called ‘a frock’  that survived the Great Wardrobe Purge of pregnancy one. A silky purple and black affair, it is designed for the bigger booby. Didn’t look too ferocious on. Better than it used to.

It will do.

I have looked forward to this wedding. It is just now it is here, we are so tired from work and late nights with the little ones that I am nervous of staying out late!

How far the mighty have fallen.

Once a party girl, I loved the night life. Now I long for lie ins with my book. A glass of wine now makes me feel giggly and two induces a sickly feel.  I can’t finish three.

Who am I? ?

Let us look at the positives. ..

The couple who are marrying are lovely. I want to celebrate their day.

The occasion is local. No big drive. Not far away should we be called on to return at haste.

We will have our dinner ‘handed to us’ as they say. No need to cook that particular meal…

Great craic to be had.

An Irish Wedding is a bit of a speciality of our culture.  It can go on for a few days, especially if you are close to the wedding party. You might take out a small loan for the event ( Joke but only kind of as Ireland is ridiculously pricey) and you might not be right for a week afterwards healthwise, but this is how we roll. Gluttony in gold sparkles.

Food and alcohol are aplenty. Dancing is understood. Discos reign until 2:30  am. There might even be a few longhaulers hanging about in the late bar until the tired, weary bar folk beg for mercy.

It is a little while since I have been one of those people.

However, let us not lie. There are many times I was. In a younger, lesser responsibility filled world.

I am quite glad that is over for me! Can’t handle the pain and can’t afford the lack of sleep.

So haste to the wedding shall we say, on Saturday.

Saturday will be grand. The wedding day itself is not the problem. Really..

It is the next morning. Babies. Dodgy heads. Tiredness.  Sore feet. Dora the Explorer. No guarantee of a midday nap.

Let us see what Sunday will bring.