So much of our wedding planning has already fallen into place.
Though a slew of negative reviews of our venue are adding to my anxiety about The Day. It’s a pretty hands-off sort of place. We knew that when we signed the contract and sent the check. From 6 am to 11 pm on May 24th, the farm is ours. Tables, chairs, parking attendant, and someone to attend the fire are the only things we are expecting from the venue. Oh! And porta-potties!
We chose Frogbelly Farm for a couple of reasons: price, location, looks, and the hands-off-ness listed in the contract. But if other people saw and signed the same contract and still gave the venue a bad review, what am I missing? The only requirement we have is if we are serving alcohol (we are), it needs to be served by a licensed bartender. Check. No stipulations on rental companies for a/v equipment, caterer, photographer, or officiant. The place is ours. The day is ours.
Which sounded ideal a year ago, when we put the deposit down. But creeping up on me is this fear that the independence we signed on for is going to bite us in the butt.
When I went to pick up one of our last batches of addressed save-the-date envelopes from the calligrapher, I brought up her past as a wedding coordinator. And asked if she would be willing to do our day of organization and what the cost would be. The cost is the same as her calligraphy–above and beyond the friends and family deal; and she said yes. An enormous weight fell off my chest.
I’ve performed weddings, but I’ve not planned one. And all the anxiety I might have about writing a wedding and the fear that my lack of dramatic emotion might not convey my happiness for the couple does not compare to my fear of things not being done or going poorly in May. I know that Ryan is Ryan and I’m me; and together we are ril & Ryan, a pretty adorable couple. But there is a level of pressure I’ve put onto myself to have a wedding my mother would have liked. Or planned herself. Or wanted for me. The emotion is really tangled into my desire to have the perfect day and all that other stuff. It’s pretty confusing for me, but it’s there. At some point I might have the words for it.
While we do have a ton of DIY and so many gifted friends and family, I still want someone onsite at Frogbelly, telling me what to do. That’s what Laurel will be for. 🙂
But in the middle of this tangential breakdown about day of things, I realized that I need to convey to our guests that cameras aren’t allowed at the wedding. Which is a hard task when everyone is carrying around a pretty strong camera in their pocket, bag, or bra. I’ve read enough about unplugged weddings and seen plenty of pictures where the crowd is watching the wedding through their phone, not their eyes.
I live in fear of being a bridezilla, but this is likely going to be one of the few items I’m bridezilla-y about. No cameras. We’ve signed a wonderful photographer who will not be alone trying to capture all the important moments on The Day, but will be there with another photographer. No lie, our biggest expense is Krista, the photographer. Because pictures are what stay, and no one is going to remember the name of the barbecue place we had cater. (It’s Georgia Boys.)
People are pretty connected to their phones. I admit it. And we all want the instant gratification of posting pictures on Facebook or Twitter. Oh! The likes and retweets! But seriously, while my parents were married 40 years ago, the story of Uncle Phil driving through southern Missouri looking for film is legendary. There was only one camera that I know of at my parents’ wedding, and no regrets about it.
This is more than a plea to return to a simpler time. I really do dislike how attached we are to our technology and the social media. Can we let it go for a day?
We’ll share our photos with anyone who asks. Leave your camera at home. Trust in the professionals.
