I, along with millions, was awake at 4 a.m. last Thursday. On vacation. In a hotel. Without a toddler, and with full permission to sleep as long as I wanted. But, the promise of untarnished, polished shining romance kept me awake. A princess! A lace dress and a fancy dress uniform. A Rolls Royce, a carriage ride, and an Aston Martin--how could this marriage fail? The perfectly orchestrated "first" kiss (as we all blissfully ignored the fact that the shiny couple had been shacked up for years). A million young girls sighed. And a million married women tried to remember when they had last felt that zing.
We grow up. We dress up. In our mother's costume jewelery. Dresses from the dress-up trunk. I went as a bride for Halloween. (I just wanted a pretty white dress). I never sat up late nights planning my wedding--and goodness knows that I didn't sit up late nights planning a marriage. Gads. How boring. How mundane. Alarm clock, work, crockpot, sleep.
My wedding was a princess wedding. I wouldn't change a thing. Princess dress. Fancy dress uniform. And 400 pink roses (I might exaggerate, but I really don't think so). We got married. And bought a red brick house in a red brick neighborhood. I bought a convertible. I sold my convertible and got a sensible mommy car. We got jobs. And the princess dress(es) went in the closet. The crockpot sits on the counter.
And so I, like so many others, escaped for an hour (or two or three) into a world where princesses don't use crockpots. And everyday warrants an Alexander McQueen (not Old Navy). Where husbands kiss their wives goodbye in a perfectly orchestrated moment of peace every morning. And where toddlers give their mommies a goodbye hug, not a goodbye bite.
The royal wedding is long over. The hats are in boxes in closets (thankfully so on some of them--yikes). And, the Queen's brooch is resting somewhere in a jewelry box. And somewhere, a happy couple embarks on a mission of marriage and the happily ever after. I hope the princess has a nice crockpot.
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