Brides: take a minute and breathe

I have been engaged less than 7 days. That’s 420 hours for my fellow non-math people.

In those 420 hours, I’ve been asked the following:

“When’s the date?”

“Where will it be?”

“What do the bridesmaids’ dresses look like?”

And my personal favorite, “when are you having kids?”

If I had a dime for every time I’ve been asked those questions, I would be able to not only finance my wedding, but also a 2-week honeymoon in Paris.

I love my fiancé with every bit of my heart and I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with him, but I do not know the answer to a single one of those questions.

And my meek response, “Well, we aren’t sure yet, but we’re really excited,” is always met with the same familiar “hmm” or “oh.”

I am currently doing an 8-to-5 journalism internship, which if you’ve ever been a journalist, you know is never really 8-to-5. I write for two papers and three magazines.

I have two online classes, which both have quizzes that must be submitted every single Sunday, regardless of how fun Saturday night was.

And, I have a 9-month-old Peek-a-Poo, who has four out of Ceasar Milan’s eight worst behavior problems.

I love my job. I love school. I love my dog. And I love my fiancé, but I do not love being made to feel like I’m behind.

I make good grades. I am obsessive compulsive and I do not miss deadlines.

But my wedding is not a quiz or a project or an article, it’s supposed to be the most incredible day of my life.

So, for the next month, I am not going to treat it as such.

I am not going to stress over flowers, dresses, colors or locations. I am going to bask in the fact that the man I dated all the way through Auburn wants to spend the rest of his life with me.

And the fact that my building science boyfriend has suddenly pulled off a stunt that is no less impressive than something out of one of my Nora Roberts’ books.

We both bleed orange and blue and come from a long line of Auburn graduates, so when he surprised me in the Loveliest Village on the Plains and got down on one knee on Samford’s lawn, I melted.

Dane, my now fiancé, can fix anything, manage construction projects in his sleep and cook the best steak I’ve ever eaten.

But, a week ago, the thought of Dane designing anything with diamonds would have made me ill.

So, when he pulled out a ring he custom made from a 1940’s pendant and surrounded with diamonds, I stopped breathing.

When he told me later he left work early three times to make an hour drive to the nearest custom jewelry store, so he and the 94-year-old jeweler could make sure my ring was perfect, I cried.

Dane leaving the office early for something other than the driving range is epic.

So there are 40 new e-mails in my inbox and dishes in my sink, and my resume desperately needs to be updated, along with the slew of wedding questions I have yet to even try to answer.

But right now my life is perfect and I am enjoying every minute of it.

Laura Vaughn is a reporter for The Madison Record. She can be reached at 256-772-6677 ext. 12 or by e-mail at laura.vaughn@TheMadisonRecord.com