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Monday, March 4, 2013

You'd hope Pinky would get it right by the second wedding!!

                            Poinker kids being silly!

Seventeen years after my first marriage I found myself gearing up in nuptial mode for the second and final time. Not desirous of any aggravation Scotto and I agreed on a garden wedding. There was to be a celebrant and no guests, (barring two witnesses) and my five kids aged from nine to sixteen. The kids would form the bridal party and we would all shimmy off to a fancy, celebratory lunch at a restaurant.
Scotto sourced a celebrant by the name of Zephyr. She was the prototypical hippie, new-age, wedding celebrant and I’m not entirely convinced ‘Zephyr’ was her real name. 

At our first appointment we had to provide and fill in such an immense amount of paperwork that it instantly put me in a foul mood. 

It did nothing to rally my good spirits when Zephyr questioned my morality.

“So what is Thaddeus’s surname?” she queried.

“The same as mine,” I replied.

“And Jonah… what is his surname?” 

“The same as mine.” I answered warily.

“And Hagar?”

“The same as mine.” She was really starting to irritate me.

“What about Padraic?” Now she was just pushing her luck.

“Padraic and Lulu have the same surnames as ME!” I snapped nastily.

After that she addressed all her comments and questions to Scotto. I don’t think she liked me much after that either.

During the week before the wedding I tried on the dress I had bought for a sizeable amount of coinage. It looked like a piece of crap. The pale yellow colour of the over-priced atrocity reflected onto my face endowing me with an enchanting jaundiced hue. I was unable to wear a bra with it and ‘everything’ was pointing decidedly southwards. Another new dress was added to my ever increasing list of last minute things to do.

I’d purchased a sweet, white lace dress and silver shoes for Lulu and the four lads were to wear long black pants, long sleeved black shirts and white ties. I optimistically anticipated the colour scheme would look effective in the wedding photos. 

It was a convoluted ordeal sourcing four pairs of long black trousers. We had several pairs in assorted sizes already floating around the laundry and I coerced each boy to try a pair on to see how many I needed to buy. 

Somehow this exercise became a chaotic mess and on the afternoon before the big day, whilst doing a final check, it became chillingly apparent that Hagar had no trousers. 

Stressed out to the max and swearing like a sailor, I raced him up to the shopping centre before it closed and purchased him a new pair.

Now there were categorically and without a shred of a doubt, four pairs of black pants. 

Halleluliah! I could relax!

The morning arrived. Brilliant winter sunshine streamed through my bedroom window and I just knew it was going to be an amazing day.

“Now I don’t want you to panic,” cautioned a nervous-looking Scotto slinking into the bedroom as I was applying the poly filler to my face, “but it seems that Jonah has no trousers.”

I went mental. 

“How the f*#k can he not have trousers. I saw four pairs all together with my own eyes last night.”

Scotto held up a pair of black trousers that would have been a perfect on a seven year old midget. 

Don’t f#*king tell me I counted and validated those miniscule pants last night? I thought feverishly.

“Fine then! He can wear his f#*king jeans!” I screamed in dying defeat.

Five minutes later Jonah lethargically called out that he’d found his proper pair scrunched up in the corner of his bedroom.

I swear my kids must actually get pleasure from watching their mother acting like a demented, screeching shrew.