Search Salon

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Recently in Salon Mothers Who Think

The write time
One classmate is on her way to literary fame, anointed by the New Yorker; the other's on her way to the grocery store.
By Tracy Mayor
[06/29/99]

Problem family
When domestic abuse showed up in my neighborhood, I had to decide whether to help or keep my distance.
By Jill Wolfson
[06/28/99]

The tyranny of fashion
As clothing comes to signify less and less about a person, I wonder if I should bother getting dressed at all.
By Erin J. Aubry
[06/25/99]

Column
Dog day
The death of a beloved friend makes plain the beauty of this world.
By Anne Lamott
[06/24/99]

Kickin' it
Mia Hamm's soccer prowess has finally launched women's sports into the mainstream. But is she ready for icon status?
By Ethan Zindler
[06/23/99]

Complete archives for Mothers Who Think

- - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Maybe it was just me, but for about two weeks following my own wedding last June, I couldn't get out of bed. I felt overwhelmed, agitated and drugged. I could accomplish nothing but sleep. Granted my apartment is conducive to sleeping, what with its crib-like proportions, its lack of windows and the constant presence of a warm and cuddly dog, but this wasn't your regular sleep. This was an every-time-I-open-my-eyes-I-can't-face-reality-so-I-go-back-to-sleep sleep. And according to the Eli-Lily advertisements, this meant I was depressed.

But what on earth was I depressed about? I adored my new husband (still do), I was happy about our marriage and excited to embark on this new life. What was the deal?

Before I attempt to answer this question, I'd like to say I've always had a pretty casual (read: phobic) attitude toward marriage. I never pushed any of my boyfriends for proposals or diamond rings, never gave them ultimatums or moved out if I didn't "see marriage in the future." When I finally did get married, I was (still am) in my 30s, and had already turned down two previous proposals. I guess I've always looked at marriage as an event in my life, not the event.

But once you start to plan a wedding it slowly begins to assert itself as The Event and you have no choice but to bow down to it and pray.

After the engagement, not one day went by when I didn't imagine myself floating down the aisle in the Dress of my Dreams. But then I'd realize I didn't know what the Dress of my Dreams was, so I'd make notes to visit Wearkstatt and Vera Wang, Bloomie's and Bendels, all the thrift shops, Milan, and then I'd realize I didn't know what kind of aisle I wanted, or if I wanted an aisle, or even a church, with all its heady religious implications. So perhaps a Nantucket beachfront would do, if I only knew someone who had one ... but wouldn't all that sand ruin my satin shoes?

Knowing that I can be kind of a borderline obsessive-compulsive person, and because our budget was tight, my fiancé and I decided to keep the wedding as simple as possible. There would be no band, no limo, none of that bouquet-and-garter stuff. There would be no video recording equipment and we wouldn't take our honeymoon until the fall. There would be no three-story cake because I knew if we had a cake I'd have to see and smell and taste every single wedding cake in the country before narrowing it down to maybe 10 and then I'd spend hours, days and weeks agonizing over which one to pick. Then, my fiancé would say, "Just decide already," and we'd get into an argument and finally, just to settle the matter, I'd have to select any old $900 cake which, at the reception, would be gone, eaten by a pack of 4-year-olds, in about 60 seconds. No, there would definitely be no cake.

Next page | A simple wedding is a simple joy