Playing Bride: Naming Conventions

Ah, I feel so refreshed from my six-month hiatus. Don't you?

I wish I could tell you that I've gotten so much done. I'm the best bride ever. I am so well organized. But here's the reality of the situation: Planning a wedding is so incredibly stressful for me that 90 percent of the time, I just shut down. I make plans to do something simple--make a few phone calls, spray paint a wine bottle--and when I get home after eight measly hours of reading patient guides (over. and over. and over. and over. and advance directives. what?), I get overwhelmed with the prospect of talking to another human or squatting in the garage for five minutes and I give up. I sit down on the couch, turn on HGTV, and think of how wonderful it would've been if we just eloped and bought a fixer upper.

And that's how my logic works, ladies and gentlemen.

So obviously I've been avoiding talking to Jason about what to do with his/my/our last name. It's been a (mostly playful and teasing) point of contention in the past, but we've always ended on a "okay, we'll see" kind of vibe. Which is cool, except now we really had to figure it out and I wasn't sure what I wanted and society has been putting a lot of pressure on me lately and I really wasn't digging it. OKAY? Geez.

When I was a tween/teen up until about 20, I adored the idea of taking a man's last name. I had two rules: 1) his name had to be higher in the alphabet than man, and 2) it had to be shorter. Polish names are long and hard to pronounce, and I wanted so badly to not have to spell out and repeat my last name to every stranger who asked me for it. Or get embarrassed when a teacher stumbled through "Skibinski" like it was a dead language. I, like many other 13-year-old girls, etched the names of potential suitors on the back pages of spiral notebooks in a cursive-like grandeur. And although I hate to admit it, most of them generic white dude last names. What can I say? I like me some Whigs.

But after 20, something changed. Or rather, something clicked. I earned promotions and management opportunities and realized that this, actually, is what I wanted. I didn't want to be a part of another name's legacy. I wanted to make my own. I want to make my own. I want people to get chided for not knowing how to pronounce my name like I get chided for not knowing how to pronounce the streets in Little Rock. Or the word "hammock." Or "Oregon." But that's beside the point.

Flash forward to now, and I face quite the dilemma. How do I reconcile these two conflicting ideals? I am expected by "normal American society" to continue with my cursive doodles and become Kim Yates. Yet I have this new-found urge protect this consonant-laden name that I've come to love. So I came up with a few options, ran them by Jason, and here's what went down:

The Good Ol' Hyphenation Approach (Skibinski-Yates)
Jason's reaction: "I will not get married. That is awful. No." Also: "Plus, What if a hyphenated person marries a hyphenated person? It just gets messy." Also: "Plus, it's hard to read the names on the back of sports uniforms."
This is the man I chose to marry. These are his priorities.

The Laura Ingalls Wilder Approach (Skibinski Yates)
Jason's reaction: First, super opposed. Then, "Well if we have kids (writer's note: we're not), will their last name be Yates? Yes? Well I guess that's acceptable."
In all honesty, I really don't dig this. I've heard of the "maiden name as the middle name" and it's just not for me. The cadence of Laura's name is so nice and flowy; mine sounds like an irate Slavic man.

The Melting Pot Approach (Yateski)
Jason's reaction: "Buddy, I really don't want to change my last name. I like Yates."
This one breaks my heart. I begged for this. For months. I told a lot of my friends and family, and most of them agreed (or just laughed, but I count that as agreement). I urged some of our mutual friends to warm him up to the idea. I thought it was a great. We are getting married; what kind of wordsmith wouldn't want to create a new word that is uniquely ours to describe our life together? Plus, he lucks out! He gets his WHOLE LAST NAME. I just want to add two letters to make less, well, Whiggy. And he won't do it. It makes me so sad. I may have cried about it once.

But, I mean, could I blame him? It costs an absurd amount of time and money and effort to change your last name on legal documents, credit cards, IDs, and the like. And from what I've read, it sounds like a gigantic pain in the ass. Why should I make him change his last name when I don't even want to do it myself?

*light bulb illuminates overhead*

And that is how I decided to keep my last name. I'm sure some of my friends and family members aren't too fond of the idea, but whatever; I'm not marrying them. Just because I'm choosing not to swap Skibinski for a generic white dude name doesn't mean I care about my generic white dude any less. (Jason's totally going to dig all the nice things I've said about him in this post. I can feel it.)

I've just found my place in the alphabet, and I really, really like it.

Playing Bride: The Cast of Characters

Well, I still don't know the color scheme. So there's that.

What I do know, however, is that I have some awesome friends standing up for me? with me? near me? on my side of the aisle. (Really, we're not doing sides, because I want everyone to have good seats, but that's beside the point.) They're so great, in fact, that I want to present them to society--in a bridal cotillion of sorts--complete with fun facts and embarrassing pictures.

I am the best, I know.

Now, for the bridal party, organized amount of years they have had to put up with me. :)

1. Caroline Skibinski (Maid of Honor)

Circa 1997-98, the year of the leopard bathing suit.

Nicknames: CC, Carrie, Francesca
Date Met: February 7ish, 1994 (They didn't let me see her the day she was born, okay?)
Fun Facts: I have snapped a branch into her eye, resulting in a very long day at the eye doctor's, and I have knocked out her tooth by running into her bike with my own. Yet she still likes me.
Favorite Memory: Making videos on my camera about a) being out in the wilderness of the local forest preserve, b) running for a fake presidency race in history class, or c) random crap when we had the giggle fits at 11 p.m. on a Saturday.
Reason I Chose Her: Because she is my sister. And my first best friend. And it was one of the few things I knew absolutely needed to happen at my wedding. Also, she has really good taste in clothing and decor and colors and did an interior design summer camp. Also I love her. D'awwww.

Circa 2011. By far one of my favorite pictures of us.

2. Lindsey Webber (Bridesmaid)

Circa 2006, based on the datestamp. I knew it was early high school because I am still sporting the part down the middle to enhance my egghead.

Nicknames: Linds, Bev, Beverly
Date Met: Probably sometime around 1998/1999, but I stopped hating her for her reading prowess in junior high. Now I just envy her, compassionately.
Fun Facts: Our longest, biggest fight was in my senior year of high school. I wanted to do a profile on her for the school paper, but she was in, like, 20 billion clubs, so she/we had to reschedule a lot and I got super angsty about it. I don't remember when we made up, but we did, and all was well with the world. That was an awful fun fact. Let me try again: I still have the scrapbook she gave me in high school. I look at it frequently, and the handwritten note on the inside back cover still makes me tear up. I am a girl. A weepy, weepy girl.
Favorite Memory: That time we Party Boy'd B., our high school physics teacher. Oh geez. Do you have a photo? YES YOU DO!!!

Prom 2007. Because duh.

Reason I Chose Her: In high school, she was my other half. I wanted to talk to her all of the minutes of all of the days, and I strove to be as passionate about the things I loved as she was about all of her extracurriculars and hobbies (Fun fact: Originally, I wrote "hobbits.") and endeavors. The woman was BFFs with Denny Hastert, for Pete's sake. (Who is Pete? Why do we care about him?) Now, she is one of the few people from high school (and earlier) who I bother to keep in touch with. Although our lives after OHS have gone in two separate directions, we still choose to take time out of our journey for each other--to meet in the middle, if you will. And we don't have to communicate every second of every day to be friends. We have our own worlds, but we value each other. And I think that's why we work.

Also, she loves Bingo. So I keep her around.

Circa May 2008. I was going to pick a Bingo picture, but this one, I think, is my favorite.

3. Jason Bena (Bridesman)

Prom 2007. FYI: Jason and I have no pictures together. You should see our Facebook friendship. It is totally empty. He's in the center, by the way.

Nicknames: Jason Behna Behna. It's how Siri pronounces his name on my phone. I do not call him this to his face. He doesn't care for it.
Date Met: 2006ish? 2007. I don't know.
Fun Facts: Jason really likes beer. He also enjoys traveling and bantering with me about Pokemon. He will straight up tell me when I'm being an asshole, which I hate, but probably need. Also, I love his mother.
Favorite Memory: That time he came over, told me I was being an asshole, but then shared his beer with me while we listened to Kyla's ex's broody songs. OR the time I went to his apartment and we went to a party and I met all of his friends all at the same time and wasn't even overwhelmed!
Reason I Chose Him: So. Looking back, I think there were times when I really wasn't a good friend to him. Or, at least, I could've been better. Despite that, he still likes me, wants to hang out with me, and visits me time and again. He's one of those friends where I am confident that he will always be there, and I hope he knows that goes both ways. Anyway, when I grew the ef up, I had a "Kim, you're such an idiot" moment, and realized that he is one of my nearest and dearest friends. Even if we really never take any pictures together and he only communicates with me on Facebook chat because I talk a lot and it's cheaper. :) Like you!

Circa Monday. He's basking in the sunlight atop some sort of peak. I almost Photoshopped myself in.

4. Nora Fergus (Bridesmaid)

Circa...2010? Originally, we dressed up to mock 16 and Pregnant, but it escalated quickly. Into this.

Nicknames: Rah Rah? Did I just make that up? Probs.
Date Met: Sometime in fall/winter 2008-2009. 
Fun Facts: Much like with Lindsey, I hated Nora the first time I met her. (I guess this is how great friendships start?) See, I was interviewing a group of new friends-ish for a story at the Star, and she shows up with them and wants to hijack the whole interview--even though I told her I have plenty of info for the story. Yet she still cut people off while they were talking and went on ridiculous diatribes anyway. She annoyed the crap out of me. But after two weeks (and one hilarious moment on the cafeteria stairs), we were buds.
Favorite Memory: "It's the Chronicles of Narnia up in here!"; reaching for the green light; Cinco de Mayo; that boat birthday surprise I totally ruined; learning Spanish while playing basketball; joy riding with Taylor Swift blasting in Corey's thumbtack car; pretty much any memory ever was a happy one.
Reason I Chose Her: Everyone needs a Nora. She is fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants wacky and I love it. She stuck by me through some weird college drama, and she taught me (without knowing it) that being yourself is okay and acceptable and people will love you so just do it. I never thought I ever spent too much time with her; I regret not spending more time with her when we lived minutes apart. She has a love for life that is unreplicated, and I am a happier, better woman for knowing her.

Circa 2009? Ish. We wiped out so hard on these ice skates. Like pros.

5. Leslie Adams (Matron of Honor)

Circa September. Pre stomp.

Nicknames: She keeps asking me to call her Les, but that's weird for me. I would probably go for Lez, but I don't think she's as into that. We're not at the nickname point yet.
Date Met: March 18, 2014.
Fun Facts: I didn't know her name when I first started at PatientPoint. I casually tried to avoid saying her name in any conversation, and when she gave me her number, I panicked and put in "Designer Lady." Smooth, Kim. So smooth.
Favorite Memory: The first time she ripped my closet apart in order to make me cute outfits. And/or the first time we awkwardly agreed to hang out. I am not good at initiating friendships, guys. I get so nervous and sweaty. It is not cute. OR when we had a really sappy (read: bawling) moment in my car in the Walmart parking lot and I asked her to be my matron of honor and then we ate Teddy Grahams.
Reason I Chose Her: In the grand scheme of things, our friendship is relatively new. But I have never met someone who has invested in me and her relationship with me so quickly and with such compassion. She is so kind and so supportive of everyone around her, and within seconds of meeting her, you can just tell that she cares. Genuinely. 100 percent of the time. And because of that, I'm like yeah, cool, I'll walk through fire for you. I'll jump off a cliff for you. Let's go do something fun. Or just stay home eat. Who cares! I have no doubt she and I will remain friends forever, and we will die, holding hands, Notebook-style. Was that weird? Am I being weird? Meh. It doesn't matter. We have a banter now; she's stuck with me.

Circa Halloween 2014. Because tutus.

Playing Bride: A Hot Mess on Wheels

Well, it's been a few months. My bad. I've learned very, very quickly, that as soon as a ring gets slapped on one's finger, one IMMEDIATELY becomes consumed with all things wedding. What started as picking up three bridal magazines turned into a crazy organizational nightmare. I now have a (green) wedding binder, a complete wedding workbook and book book, multiple Excel spreadsheets chronicling all sorts of budgets and listings, a monthly planner that I attempt to use religiously but have failed for the past two weeks, random scraps of paper, two Pinterest boards, a few checklists detailing my life for the next 10 months, and a slowly growing pile of receipts in a drawer.

Wedding planning, my friend, is daunting.

Apparently, regular human girls dream up their wedding and plan it a million different ways as they progress through puberty and, well, life. I never got past the dress. What can I say; I just like dresses. And now it's like the nuptial version of "If You Give A Mouse A Cookie." If you give a Kim a pretty ring, she's going to want to get married somewhere cool. If Kim chooses somewhere cool to get married, she's going to want a wedding dress that makes her butt look awesome. If she finds that dress, she'll first ask the consultant if she can walk around the entire store to check out said butt, and then she'll realize she actually wants to wear the veil with glitter trim. Do you see what my life has turned into? Can you see what I've become?

 Here's what I've we've done so far:


We set a date!

September 26, 2015, to be exact.

Let me tell you, that makes this ordeal a whole heck of a lot more real.


We found a venue!

So I crashed a wedding and took pictures of the setup. Sue me.

Story time: For three summers during my high school/college career, my dad's side of the family took family vacations to Camdenton, Missouri. Everyone stayed in condos on the lake, and we spent a week lounging on boats, water skiing, and genuinely enjoying each other's company. Afterward, we'd gather at someone's condo to eat and play Phase 10 with the cousins late into the night. Those vacations were, hands down, the best (and most relaxing) of my life. Seriously. I would cry off and on the whole way home. I'm pretty sure those days were little pieces of Missouri Heaven.

While vacationing, we stopped by this winery, Casa de Loco, which sits on a cliff and used to be an insane asylum. It wasn't officially open yet, but the owner took us on a tour of all the rooms and renovations. I loved it. And I wasn't of legal drinking age yet, so you know it must have been something special. Or it could've been the space-age showers. Who knows.

So I returned, with Leslie, fiveish years later to see if I still loved it. And, surprise, I did.

D'aw. We're so cute! Minus my half lazy eye.

Hey girl heyyyy! Guys. They have wine on tap. I want to go to there. Tomorrow.

I was being an artist (aka buzzing), so here's an artsy shot of Leslie looking off into the mosquito-filled distance.

That view. Worth it.

And then we won a grape-stomping contest, so we came back with our men and wore fancy hats to the wine tasting. And, much like those vacations, we spent the evening relaxing (drinking) and playing cards (Cards Against Humanity). It was a grand ol' time.

These are the people I choose to hang out with.

I don't have any real ties to Arkansas, my dad's side of the family still is in Illinois, my mom's side is all over the place, and let's not even get started on Jason's family. No one lives in the same spot, so we made up our own -- and it's kind of, sort of, in the middle. Ish.

We took this before we went to Casa. At a castle. Because 'Murica has castles, too.

I found a dress!

I can't say much about it because, contrary to popular belief, Jason can read. So just know that I have it, it makes my assets (lolololol butt) look great, and everyone cried. Even Caroline. Lindsey was in town, so we also went kind of bridesmaid dress shopping. I was eh about the selection at David's, but I was on a dress high so I took pictures.

Using my powers for evil. Womp womp.

We chose our wedding party!

I'm actually going to write another post about this later (with embarrassing pictures), so I'm not going to give a lot away. The important thing to take away from this is that I have a bridesman and Jason has a groomslady. Take that, social norms!


We took engagement photos!

I think I really, really like this one. Winner!

Remember all those mushy photos on Facebook that looked really well planned? That was not me. That was Leslie's saint of a friend, Heather, who owns and operates Roeh Photography. She was absolutely wonderful. She was in "go" mode the minute we met her at the first location, and I felt like I was a model. Seriously. You never know what constant interjections like "awesome" or "you look amazing" can do. You also don't know how weird it is to hear someone you've met only twice before this shout, "Okay kiss him!" or "No, really, kiss him," while pointing a really expensive lens at your face and hitting a tiny button all rapid-fire style.

When the photographer says kiss, you kiss. You don't ask questions.

I think it went well.
  

So now what?

Well, I just got these photos from Heather, so you better believe I'm looking at save-the-date postcards on Zazzle. I'm also looking for cat cake toppers. Priorities.

In conclusion...

In an attempt to hold onto my sanity, I'm going to chronicle the roller coaster of emotion that is wedding planning here. Because...why not? It's not like I have anything else to do.

Well, I'm off. It's about time to have a meltdown over color scheme. Again.

The Engagement, In (Mostly) Photos

About a week ago, Jason and I took a two-tiered mini vacation. The first stop was to meet up with my (blood and chosen) families to watch one of my dearest friends, Michael (he goes by Mike, but meh), marry his now-wife, Jamee, in the-middle-of-nowhere western Illinois. It was beautiful, they did great, and I only cried a little bit.

The second stop was an extended stay in St. Louis. Based on how much he talks about it, I'd venture to say this is one of Jason's favorite cities. He'd been begging me to visit and witness the true magic of being a Cardinal fan since we started dating, so I figured I'd finally oblige. Our plan was to go to Six Flags, the St. Louis zoo, the Gateway Arch, and catch a few Cardinals games.

Oh. And apparently get engaged.

On our second day in St. Louis, we met up with Jason's brother, Chad, his sister-in-law, Kate, and their kids, Eli and Rachel, in the morning to visit the Arch. They come with camera and camcorder in tow to "take pictures of and videotape the kids." I realize now that this was at least a half lie. But at the time, I was too busy looking at the gigantic metal thing to notice.

But seriously, this thing is massive.

So we get inside, go up the tiny, yet space-age pods to the viewing area, and it's super gorgeous. Full of people, but man, what a view. I've been told this was Proposal Plan A, but Jason didn't like the crowd, so he went for Proposal Plan B.

A beautiful view of the city. And I only had to sit in a tiny pod with strangers to see it!

The other viewing area, which was lackluster. Jason really liked the casino, though. Priorities.

A wonky selfie. And look at that smug grin! He knows! That bugger knows what he's about to do and I'm all like, "Ooooh a helipad on the water! I thought it was a basketball court!"

There it is. The first stuffed bear of the west. 'Murica.

After taking in the Museum of Westward Expansion, in which the kids thought the mechanical humans were real humans and I decided I wanted to live in a teepee, we walked out to a leg of the arch to "take more pictures." I mean, I understand the parental need to document the lives of the children, but more pictures? Really? I was hungry, and I really wanted to get to the stadium to have a snack and drink watch a fantastic baseball game. But the kids are cute, and Chad and Kate are so, so nice (see that great family plug, Jason? ;) ), so a few more pictures weren't going to hurt.

And now, the main event. The documentation of our engagement. In photos.

We stand in front of the graffiti and Jason INSISTS on holding my hand like this. This is not how we take pictures. As you can see, I am so not amused.

You can tell Jason is concentrating really hard because he's clenching his fist. I'm still annoyed, but I put on a happy face for the camera.

Whoops! Jason, you've fallen. Why don't you come back up and we can take a real photo where you put your arm around me and stuff? Then we can all go get a beer!

Holy god. This is not a drill. THIS IS NOT A DRILL!

Jason's speech: Kim, you have changed my life for the better...

...I can't do this right now. I'll tell you later. Will you marry me?

So I guess I got emotional when he pulled out the ring. I don't recall this, but I don' recall much of any of it.

Typical woman. Always crying over emeralds. (Fun fact: Jason said I didn't have to shower OR worry about how I looked that day. So there I am, sweaty, smelly, ponytail full of bumps, mosquito bites all over my legs, carrying a cat wristlet, all because this guy doesn't think a proposal isn't worth a shower.)

Eh. I said yes anyway. Actually, I didn't say yes at all. I just nodded vigorously. My mom was impressed that Jason is the only person in this world to render me speechless. Way to go, dude.

Jason: Let me show you the ring again.
Me: Uhh, you know you have to put that on my hand, right?

Jason: OH RIGHT! I forgot about that.
This man would lose his head if it weren't on his shoulders.

On goes the ring.

When we hugged, Rachel shouted, "They love each other!" I am so upset that I didn't hear it.

Obligatory engagement kiss.

Close up of the gorgeous ring. And, coincidentally, my curling iron burn. Cried over that one, too.

But seriously, that Arch is huge.

Thank you again, Chad and Kate, for calming Jason's nerves and documenting my favorite Labor Day of all time. A huge shout out to Princess Kitty -- without her (and a toddler meltdown), there is a good chance I would've seen the ring box go through the metal detector. And, of course, the kiddos deserve huge hugs for being so hilarious and entertaining; I was way too busy paying attention to them to notice how nervous and tense Jason was.

And the biggest thank you for all the well wishes from our family and friends. Jason and I are so lucky to have you all, we love you, and we're excited to get this show on the road!