Kristin's Bodhi Tree

A matronly post

A couple of weeks ago when my sister initially told me about her early wedding plans, she revealed that she and Mark probably wouldn’t have attendants because the wedding will be quite small and intimate.  I was secretly bummed because I’d love to be my sister’s lady in waiting, but I hid my disappointment because, well, it’s not my wedding.

But tonight my sister revisited her original plans and asked me to be her matron of honor!  I’m so excited!  She also apparently is a very low-key bride and said my only two responsibilities are (1) holding a ring during the ceremony, and (2) trying on 4 or 5 bridesmaids dresses in different colors from J. Crew to find the additional color for their wedding palette.  So not only do I have limited responsibilities, but she’s also offering me some measure of control.

This is a very unusual species of bride.

I may have spoken too soon . . .

Last night Booth and I had a lovely, romantic dinner at Oceanaire, one of our favorite restaurants.  I commented at one point that my hormones during the pregnancy haven’t been too bad, emotionally speaking—that I was perhaps even more even-tempered than I usually am in my unpregnanted state.

I was tempting fate with that comment.

At the end of the meal, our kind server offered to bring us a baked alaska on the house.  We were both stuffed to the rim by that point on scallops, tuna, clam chowder, and hash browns.  But it was free, and I didn’t want to insult the lovely waiter, so I said yes.  After the waiter retreated to the kitchen, I explained my reasoning to Booth and said I didn’t particularly want the dessert or the calories but I thought it would be a nice memory and it was free, so would he please not tip the waiter extra to “pay” for the dessert because I would have never ordered it anyway and was only going to eat it because it was free?  He said yes.  (By way of background, my husband is a very generous tipper, leaving 20% as the absolute minimum and always tipping money at Marble Slab and Starbucks, even when he spends just $1.)

The dessert came, and it was decadent and huge but I gladly dove in because it was free.  And you know where this is going.  At the end of the meal, Booth furtively handled the check and wouldn’t show me what he was doing.  I snuck a peek as we were leaving, and the overly generous bastard had indeed tipped extra money to pay for the dessert, just as he promised he wouldn’t.  I got mad, very mad.

Fastforward to this morning when I was getting ready for the gym.  He asked me if I should change out of my black running pants into shorts.  I asked what he was implying and he wouldn’t say.  So I got annoyed, very annoyed.

When I was leaving the gym, I got the wonderful awesome news that my sister got engaged this morning to the most spectacular guy that our whole family loves.  When I found out the possible wedding date—the only date that works for my incredibly busy, world-traveling sister and future brother-in-law—I got upset because it sits very close to my delivery date in May.  So I was upset, too upset.

Hopefully this is just a 12-hour surge of hormonal bitchiness that will pass any second.  Or I will be pissed, very pissed.

Until then, please enjoy this rendition of the sugary delight that started it all: