Takes the Cake.

Lately, I've found myself reminiscing about my wedding day. You know, going over the details, trying to capture every last memory so as not to forget.

My mind will wander from my beautiful dress to my bangin' heels to my perfect hair and makeup to my wonderland reception. And inevitably will come to a screeching halt at my wedding cake.

You know, I had the best intentions when it came to that bad boy.

He was going to be the best darn cake that ever lived. Zebra insides and pearl outsides. I fully intended to hire a professional.

But after unsuccessful attempts to secure a cake maker, I came to one conclusion: I was too cheap and too un-trusting to go the traditional route. There was only one thing to do: make it myself.

And that is precisely when I should have re-evaluated my priorities.

Fast-forward two weeks, and you'll find me covered in batter at 2 AM, baking the middle section for the second time. Why? Oh, because at 1 AM my sleep deprived mind forgot to grease and flour the cake pans after throwing out the first batch at 12 AM when I realized that the top was setting much faster than the bottom causing an impending crater.

It was shortly thereafter that I realized that my twenty minute online tutorial about wedding cake baking was probably an insufficient education on a very tricky subject. But what was there to do?.. The wedding was in two days and my bank account had cobwebs.

So I did what any logical woman does in the heat of the moment.

Cursed a little, threw the P.O.S.es in the freezer and went to bed.

You see, here's what I had envisioned.

Inspiration:

Which somehow translated to this.
Execution:

Yep. Nailed it...

Whose idea was it to make my own wedding cake anyway!??
I mean, come on. Even immediately after making the finishing touches and before setting it in the hot sun, it looked like a piece of crap.

See that bulging section?.. That's no tumor.
That's baking pride slowly sliding off my ego and into oblivion.

My one consolation is that the top tier (currently frozen in my parents' freezer in preparation for one-year anniversary traditions) was the prettiest.
Comparatively, that is.

Sometimes I wonder what happened to the rest of it after I sped away from the reception. But that gets me thinking about the whole cake fiasco again and I have to tell myself to ponder on happier things. Like babies. And bacon.

In my defense, the inside did look pretty cool.
But that was where the semi-amazingness stopped.

And to top it all off, I was shamelessly badgered when I refused to stuff it up my husband's nose. He asked me not to do it, people! Believe me, I was torn!

But at the end of the day, I just have to remember that I can't 'have my cake and eat it too'. Given the choice, I'd rather have had a crappy cake than no cake at all. And when it really comes down to it, I'd rather have a good story to tell than a $300 piece of dessert.

Just goes to show that you get what you pay for.
And I am a very cheap bride.

Sick & Tired.

What marriage has taught me so far:
cuddling with your BF is one thing, but sleeping with your husband is another.

Cuddling with your BF is all about feeling safe and loved and slightly rebellious, because it's past midnight and he's sound asleep on your 'BYU approved' couch.

Sleeping with your husband is all about whose elbow is in whose eye, who's clinging to the edge, who's being a bed-hog and who's about to kill whom.

I learned this a few nights ago after feeling the covers being slowly pulled off my body. I rolled over to see the husband, sleeping soundly, wad them up into a ball and hug them like a giant teddy bear.

I mean, what is a girl to do in this situation?..
I couldn't just rip them back.. for several reasons.

The two most prominent of which being that he has the upper-body strength of a gorilla, and he looked so gosh-darn adorable with that boyish smile on his sleeping face.

You see, the problem is that we both see our sleeping situation very differently.
I think that, seeing as we sleep on a 'queen'-sized bed, the queen in this relationship should call the shots. (Keep in mind that I am a fair and benevolent ruler.)

He thinks that it's like this:

When it should actually be like this:

And it doesn't help that we both prefer to sleep on our stomachs with one arm under the pillow, the other hand nestled by the face, one leg bent in slightly and the other foot sticking out from under the covers for temperature control.

It's been unanimously decreed the only and best way to sleep.

However, it creates problems when it becomes a night-long joust over who gets the prime knee position, who gets to sprawl their arm across no man's land and who is knotting up the covers in an unconscious attempt to get a leg free.

Things would be so much easier if we both slept on our sides in the perfect spooning position and never moved...

I mean, I hardly move at all, but the husband does.

He openly admits to waking up sometimes with his head at the foot of the bed and his feet on the pillow.

I haven't actually witnessed this first-hand, but I'm preparing myself to.

And it REALLY doesn't help that I've had a cold for the past three days.

Because, let's face it, there's no such thing as blowing your nose 'quietly' and feeling like their head is about to explode makes some wives cranky.

Of course, the pros outweigh the cons.

Sleeping with your husband means you always have a personal heater.

It means never feeling lonely or scared of what might be in the dark.

It means waking up to a kiss on the forehead and a squeeze of the hand.

And if worst came to worst, it means there's always someone there to bludgeon the bad guys with the axe handle that's hidden in closet. Hypothetically speaking.. of course..

But probably what marriage has taught me most, so far, is that it's possible to love someone more than you love a perfect night's sleep. And that stapling the covers to my side of the bed is becoming a very plausible option.

Signed in Blood.

The husband and I took our peacock box of gift cards along with us on the honeymoon. Lacy-Hacy had suggested that it might be a good idea. Not only to prevent them from being misplaced/stolen but also to provide us extra cash for our trip.

It was an excellent suggestion, but turns out, she had multiple motives.

Because as I slowly opened each card one by one, reading the cheesy marriage poems and cliche wedding wishes, I came across a particular envelope with handwriting that looked oh-so very familiar... Upon opening the card, I found this message: "'Well, you did it. You WON! (pact) Go ahead, bask in it... I feel all warm & fuzzy inside. :)"

I couldn't believe my eyes!

After two months of shameless teasing, claiming that she had not lived up to her end of the deal, my BFF had actually paid out.

It literally was a laugh out loud moment.

I immediately text her in my excitement. (I know, I know. Honeymoon+texting best friends='no-no'. But I couldn't resist.) "Bahahaha!! You sneaky bandit.. :D I can't believe you actually paid up on our pact! Hehehe.. But I guess it was blood money after all. :P"

You see, my roomie and I (at the time) had decided one evening, during a fit of boredom, to create an agreement of sorts regarding who would get hitched first.

She claimed that I would obviously be the first victim while I knowingly knew that she would be scooped up in no time. Both being unattached presently and seriously doubting that that would change anytime soon, we drafted a document and signed at the bottom.

At first she insisted we sign our entire name in our actual blood, but considering that a new level of creepy and secretly wishing to inflict as little pain as possible, I suggested that a small drop would do. It was a good thing too, because apparently we are both sissies. Just one prick hurt like the dickens!

(Believe me. No one is more aware of my smart phone's bad picture quality than I am.)

It reads: "This pact set forth on this -the 11^th of September 200 & 11-amongst the foxilicious BABES Lacy Cornaby & Corin Haymore ensures that whosoever shall enter into the holy bonds of matrimony & sweet, sweet BABY MAKIN' TIME!! Shall immediately, without question, fork up the cold hard cash amount of $107.00. "

Why a $107.00?..

Oh, I dunno. Because $777.00 was too much and both of us share 7 as our favorite number. Do we need a better reason?

Little did we know that a month later we would both be in serious relationships and ten months later, married. It's crazy how time flies. One minute, you're wagering a small fortune (comparatively) in blood and the next you and your bestie are married within two weeks of each other.

And even though we don't live together any more and she's moved a county away, it's not going to change things one bit. Because people like us don't forget that easily.

We don't forget our debts and we certainly don't forget our friendships.

And you can bet on that.

Forever After.

Well, it's back to the old grind.
The wedding was perfect and the honeymoon was blissful.

That is.. minus the cake slowly melting in the sun and being chased by a buffalo through a small town in Montana. Practically.

Okay, okay. So the buffalo wasn't technically charging us, per say, but he was being corralled a block away by a troop of police cars. That was pretty sweet. The HUSBAND (weird!!!) got footage on that amazing phone of his.

But I'm not lying about the cake.
It really did have issues.

That and I forgot to tell someone to fill the Mason jars in the centerpieces with water so that the special 'floating' candles I spent extra money on would actually be visible.

Or the glass frame I shattered in my hurry to get everything ready for the reception.

Or the guest calendar that no one had any idea what to do with because I forgot to print some instructions and my nieces who were equipped with the needed information are easily distracted.

Or the guests who had to wait for a table to be vacated due to the number of people who attended. I was shocked that we had so many!

Or that my niece promptly burst into tears when her tiny 4-year-old self didn't catch the cash bouquet. Actually, that was pretty darn adorable. Don't worry, I soothed her tears with the promise of a special McDonald's trip in the future.

But that doesn't mean that they didn't start up again as soon as I stepped towards our get-away vehicle. I found myself instantly surrounding by a hoard of children hugging every visible body part. The smallest of which were wrapped tightly around my knees.

It was the best present I could have ever wished for.

Oh, but I should probably mention the $50 worth of disposable cameras that were left exposed to the sprinkler system for several days. That was lovely.

Developing those bad boys should be interesting.

And I forgot about the video not working at the luncheon, it being a kind of integral part of the program. Let's just say we were having a few technical difficulties. Namely, I'm a dunce and didn't realize that not everyone has movie maker on their computer.

That being said, I really shouldn't be complaining.
The weather was beautiful and there wasn't a mosquito in sight.

I was able to marry the man of my dreams and be surrounded by the people I love. I savored every minute of it.

Sometimes, I hear people say that they wish that they could have a do-over. That they wish they could experience it all again. And perhaps do things a little differently.

But as we drove away, the sparklers and shouts fading in the distance, we both smiled at each other perfectly contented. It really was a wonderful day.

We wouldn't change a thing. And we don't want a re-do.
We are going to have a forever's worth of wonderful days.

And droopy zebra cake really pales in comparison to eternity.