Vinaigrettes — With Red Champagne and Chocolates
We left the house very early to catch a noon flight to Raleigh, North Carolina. News of an impending storm, and the fact we are bound for Cute Husband’s brother’s wedding has made us overly cautious.
The flight has been delayed multiple times.
So it is that we have spent five hours at the gate, watching High School Musical and browsing over-priced paperbacks.
We have eaten two meals out of the food court. Speaking of overpriced.
I ask the attendant at the gate to please be sure we could pre-board. She says, “Ask my relief attendant, she’ll be in charge of your flight.” So an hour later I make a special trip over to the gate to ask, “Hey — pregnant lady, two kids, and a Marine carrying three times his body weight in car seats … can we pre-board?” And she says “Sure. Sure you can.”
Can you see where this is going, can ya, can ya??
“Why didn’t you preboard?” the flight attendant says as she sees us lumbering down the ramp at her. Cute Husband is pushing the wheeled car seat, the other car seat and a bunch of crap piled on top. I am pretty sure we’re over the 40-pound recommended weight limit on that stroller. We’re all carrying bags. And coats. And I am carrying a flimsy plastic garment bag stuffed with two poufy flower girl dresses.
“We asked,” I say.
“They didn’t do it,” he adds.
“We were back of the line,” I continue.
And now we are the last people to board this mother-fing —
“‘kay, kids! Let’s find our seats!” And then I am crammed between two rows, knee in a car seat, hauling on the straps secure it. The straps won’t go through the way they are supposed to. The seat is jiggling. People are glaring. I am the reason this plane is still sitting at the gate.
“You might want to check that car seat,” the flight attendant says.
Ah, yes, but that would defeat its purpose as a safety device protecting my child way up here in the cabin, then, wouldn’t it?
My cell phone vibrates. A text message from my brother: “It is happening now. We’re going in.”
But the baby’s not ready. They said so yesterday — her lungs aren’t ready.
I fire off a reply with Sunbeam-worthy speed: “Love to you three. Tell Emily Sarah: Auntie loves her.”
Please God let her be okay. Please don’t let her be hurt.
“They’re delivering the baby,” I say to Cute Husband as the plane starts to move.
He looks up in worry and surprise. I nod and he squeezes my hand and then we are taxiing down the runway and I am thinking my usual take-off thoughts: Please don’t let us go off this runway in the ice. Please don’t let there be a terrorist on this plane. Please don’t let the kids get hurt. And now a descant: Please protect Emily Sarah. Please let her and her Mommy be okay.
And then it’s too much. Who are we to get so lucky? To arrive safe, to be delivered of a niece, to be spared? I am reduced to Please give me strength. Please give them strength. Please make it okay.
And we’re airborne.
In Raleigh, two texts and a voicemail. She is born. She can’t breathe. She’s in the NICU.
In Chapel Hill: We feed the girls hush puppies and fried okra and remind Mary that she was born two hours from here. Cute Husband and I watch the bride and groom and can’t believe it’s been ten years since we were that young.
The cell phone is plastered to my palm. Whenever it vibrates, I jump. “NICU for weeks or days,” come the reports. “Blood sugar is low. She’s burning too many calories breathing.”
Please let her be okay. Please get her out of there and send her home. Please, please.
Chocolate fondue and champagne — a gorgeous red champagne that is not too sweet. The women of the bride’s two families dip fruit and cake and tell the stories of their weddings.
“Watch your shoes,” we Schwarzers warn her. Every single bride in this family has had Shoe Issues.
“Oh,” she says, “too late. I forgot mine in South Carolina and ordered a second pair already.”
“Great,” we say. “You’re all set then. Only keep an eye on this pair.”
A tired voice. My brother, the Dad.
“She’s okay,” he says. “She’s just all of a sudden a lot better. I’m really tired, I’m going to go.”
Better, she’s better, she’s better. She’s okay. Thank you thank you thank you.
I’m an AUNTIE!!
“I not ‘Renny’ I Rudolph.”
“Oh,” I say. We’re in the rental mini-van, on our way to the rehearsal.
“I want you to call me ‘Rudolph,’” she insists.
“That’s fine, Sweetie,” I say, “you can be called whatever you want.”
“Not ‘Sweetie,’” she says. “‘Ruuuuudolph.’”
“Oh, this is going to be a long night.”
The wedding coordinator is ultra-organized. We all have name tags. Ren stares at hers a long minute before wordlessly handing it to me.
“I understand,” I say. I walk over to the coordinator and gently explain things. He passes me a pen.
Now, her name tag reads, “Renudolph.” She pats it on to her dress, satisfied.
“Okay, so after the last bridesmaid, the flower girls will go. Mary, that’s you and Rudolph.”
This may just be the Greatest Wedding Coordinator in the World.
“But you don’t have a red nose!” — About sixteen people have said this to her.
“No,” she replies in an exceedingly patient voice. “I not Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer. It just my name: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. But you can call me ‘Rudolph.’”
We’re in the Bride’s Room. Mare and Ren are in their poufy dresses, hydrangea-blue bows in their hair and around their waists, little black patent-leather shoes on their feet. Ren has been tugging at her braids and scowling at the bow around her waist for the past twenty minutes.
“Momma, what if I don’t want to be a flower girl?” she finally asks. I figure once all the fun starts, with the pictures and everyone telling her how cute she is, she’ll be happy.
“Momma, Daddy, and Mare are all going to be in the wedding,” I tell her. “You don’t have to be. I can call Aunt Margaret to take you, but that’s it, you’ll have to stay with her until it’s over.”
I have turned away from the Doodle, adjusting my panty-hose, scowling at the obvious line they make across my belly. I glance back at her and do a double-take.
Her hair is out of its cute braids, the sash is gone. A puddle of hydrangea-blue satin is at her feet.
“Momma, call Aunt Mahgit. I all done.”
“Bye, Rudolph!” my new sister-in-law says happily, officially making her the coolest Bride I have ever known.
Mare looks lovely going down the aisle. Serene, composed, a picture of creamy organza, blue satin, piercing blue eyes. She carries a blue-and-cream pomander from a satin ribbon.
I glance over at Margaret. Renudolph is beside her glowing with pride at Sister’s procession. As soon as Mare is gone, Doodle turns her attention back to the pomander on her lap, resuming her work of methodically ripping cream-colored baby roses out of it, shredding them, dropping them on the floor.
They take their vows. It is tender, funny, transcendent. Cute Husband smiles across the altar at me and for one breathless second it’s like it’s our turn again. I rest my hand on Mare’s shoulder.
The baby kicks and I just can’t believe how generous the world can be sometimes.
The Bride and Groom have departed together for their new home in South Carolina. Family lingers for the last of the music and champagne.
My bouquet is fading, and my feet hurt. I spy Renny sitting on the steps and take a seat beside her.
“Hi, Rudolph.” Unlike Mare, Ren can sit in silence. Needs to, sometimes. After a bit, I say, “I’m proud of you.”
She looks surprised.
“You did such a good job of saying what you wanted today. You used your words, and you knew being a flower girl wasn’t for you.”
Her smile breaks my heart. There is such relief in it.
“I don’t think you like it when people look at you,” I say. She throws her arms around me with a happy sigh.
Fierce, fearless, determined … and shy. She kisses me and tears off to throw herself onto a pile of dancing cousins.
A text: “We’re home.”
I cheer and cry and Cute Husband and I dance to Our Song. We toast our new niece and her parents.
Our little house is burried in snow. Sunbeam texted midweek to say all is well, but the cats are hopelessly lonely for us.
The door opens to the smell of rotting flesh. On the floor in front of our hearth, a stiff mouse corpse.
“It looks like a sacrifice to the gods,” Cute Husband laughs. Please bring our family home. We don’t know what we did, but please bring them home.
The cats are in Mare’s bed. They open sleepy eyes, register that we’re there, and roll on to their backs. The girls rub fuzzy bellies, and I crawl to bed. I wrap myself around the Body Pillow and manage not to cry from relief.
I have a new niece, and a new sister-in-law. We are home in one piece. I rub my belly, find what I think is a foot above my hip, rub that, too.
So much to be grateful for.
Nothing better in the world than Coming Home.
January 11th, 2009 at 11:49 pm
All I can say is this: I love you guys. And we’ve never even met.
January 11th, 2009 at 11:52 pm
Saw your tweet… Welcome Home! Congratulations all around - to Mary, Ren, your new niece, your SIL… and you on being a wise & wonderful mom!
January 12th, 2009 at 12:34 am
I’m so glad your new niece is okay. And it sounds like you just gained a pretty great sister-in-law too! Thanks for the great recap of your trip, I’m exhausted for you guys just from reading it! Rest up and have a good Monday.
January 12th, 2009 at 12:46 am
I would like to second the comments made by “Yankee Amanda.”
January 12th, 2009 at 1:18 am
Such a beautiful post - thank you. As always, you get me thinking, keep me laughing, and help me appreciate the little joys of life. Happy New Year, DaMomma and Family.
January 12th, 2009 at 1:33 am
Me too. Yankee Amanda. So glad everyone is safe and happy!
January 12th, 2009 at 2:11 am
The bride? Amazing in her coolness. She will make an awesome mom if she so chooses to be one.
Speaking of awesome moms…that would be you. Your girls are lucky to have such a smart mommy.
January 12th, 2009 at 2:28 am
I fourth the aforementioned sentiment. Your family. It’s absolutely, wonderfully, lovely, perfect. I am in awe every time I read your words at the amount of devotion, empathy, and affection that your family shares. Your love is astoundingly obvious in all the very best ways.
January 12th, 2009 at 2:29 am
God Bless you all. The whole extended lot of you. Hope all continues to go well with Emily Sarah.
And, by the way, what is Your Song? If you want to share it that is.
January 12th, 2009 at 9:05 am
Prayers for Emily Sarah- we are going through the same thing. My nephew was born last week 7 weeks early. He had trachea surgery at 1 day old and they discovered a few other problems that are serious, but not as much as not breathing. He went “wireless” at 1 week old and they hope to move him to the less serious side of the NICU in a day or so. Made me hug my 4 a little closer (and give me extra patience).
Your sister-in-law is going to be an awesome mom!
January 12th, 2009 at 10:03 am
I love Rudolph…that kid will rule the world!
January 12th, 2009 at 10:43 am
Ditto what they said. Amazing momma and amazing family. So glad you are all home.
January 12th, 2009 at 11:04 am
Liz,
That was an amazing weekend and I loved reading how it was through your eyes! We are all very glad to be home and glad that the many tears (sad and joyful) of the weekened are behind us. As always we had a wonderful time with Roo and Mary as well as the two growed-ups. I am looking forward to seeing you guys when we come to deliver Moses in a few weeks!
Love to all-
Morgan
January 12th, 2009 at 1:10 pm
I teared up a bit when I read about how you told Rudolph how proud you were. You’re a seriously impressive mother.
January 12th, 2009 at 1:43 pm
i swear you reduce me to tears with about every other post. Nothing, I am sure, to do with the fact that I am hormonal and 5 1/2 months pregnant with baby #5. Wonderfully written, wonderful family. Welcome to the world little Emily Sarah.
January 12th, 2009 at 2:33 pm
Congratulations Auntie and Welcome Home.!
January 12th, 2009 at 3:55 pm
Congratulations on all counts!
January 12th, 2009 at 4:14 pm
You are such a good mommy, Liz. You are sensitive to your children’s personalities, their needs and their wants, adjusting accordingly. You’ve helped me deal with my own Rudolph
You WILL keep up blogging forever, right??
Congratulations, Auntie! Lucky teensy tiny niece you have!
January 12th, 2009 at 4:44 pm
PTL that your new niece is well! Congrats on all the new family members. Not sure which is worse- cats that leave carcasses or dogs that leave poo…pretty sure our dog poo is punishment and not a peace offering.
Your travel stories make me hope like hell I won’t have to fly while Niblet is still in a car seat.
January 12th, 2009 at 4:56 pm
Big congratulations on your new niece and welcome home!
January 12th, 2009 at 5:09 pm
Your vinagrettes are always such a bright spot in my reading, but there is a special intimacy to this one. Thank you for taking us along on this journey. Congrats and best wishes for all the new chapters opening to your family!
January 12th, 2009 at 6:20 pm
Nothing is worse than traveling with an infant. Nothing except doing it pregnant when your mind is miles away praying for that sweet little girl. I’m so happy you made it home and it seems like you even found time to enjoy yourself a bit. Congratulations to your brother. My thoughts will be with them.
January 12th, 2009 at 11:33 pm
See, this is why you are soooo much more qualified to have three kids and why I am stopping at two. If my Ren pulled that flower girl stunt I would have been seriously torqued. But you took it in stride and appreciated her for it. You are a great mom. (and auntie of course, which is also a very fun job!)
Post of pic of girls in dresses please please?
January 12th, 2009 at 11:34 pm
p.s. bad mom also has never used car seats on planes. They don’t freakin fit. I figure if we are going down we are going down.
January 13th, 2009 at 12:26 am
What a lovely post - I hope your niece continues to do improve.
January 13th, 2009 at 9:29 am
Congratulations on the two new girls in your family!! So glad baby is doing well.
Just wanted to let you know that I laughed out loud at the image of the wedding coordinator referring to your daughter as Rudolph so matter of factly. God bless that sense of humor.
Welcome home.
January 13th, 2009 at 11:06 am
Beautiful. I also teared up reading about how you talked with Ren/Rudolph/Clara. That is the best gift you can give a human being, big or small.
January 13th, 2009 at 2:27 pm
I ditto YankeeAmanda and TEB. I hope to God that I will be as intuitive with my kids as you are with Ren. That intuition of yours, it often leaves me speechless. And in awe.
January 13th, 2009 at 5:53 pm
I truly hope that if I have a child like Ren, I will be able to support her in the beautiful way that you do. You seem to have a great instinct for knowing when your child is just being a pest and needs discipline/structure vs. when your child is communicating her needs to you as best as she can and needs support. You do a beautiful and impressive job with your girls!
January 13th, 2009 at 11:08 pm
Awww! This is the first time I’ve read your blog and I had to comment. You are a beautiful writer, you absolutely brought tears to my eyes. Lucky for me that I chose waterproof mascara today!
I’ll be checking back often, you rock!
January 15th, 2009 at 10:22 am
So sweet. Lovely written. So many blessings.
Great to be so in-tune with your daughters.
New life.
Wonderful all ’round.
January 15th, 2009 at 3:28 pm
As a retired wedding planner, I have to say, the wedding planner at your brother-in-law’s wedding is A-OK in my book. That was spot-on, the best!
Glad you all made it to and fro safely!