Wedding Day - 9am

My wedding day started well enough. I managed to get a sleep in, a mothers sleep in that is which meant I was up at 8am. Bel bambino, the early riser that he often is, woke earlier but the benefit of having 20 odd Australians in Malito with 12 of them being in your actual house was that we left him with my family as we ran back to bed.

Since our wedding, our relationship, had never been traditional, we slept in the same bed the night before the wedding and spent all the time up until getting dressed together; I wasn’t going to be the only tired person at my wedding! The morning started well but by about 9.00am everything went haywire. A lot of it was my fault, but not all of it. We were not only getting married that day, it was also bel bambino’s baptism. The wedding ceremony was going to be done in English and Italian thanks to us finding a bilingual priest. The rites of marriage had to be in Italian but I said my vowels and ring exchange all in English whilst bel marito said his in Italian. I even got the priest to say ‘you may now kiss the bride’ in English which is not so common I think in Italian weddings. But I’m getting ahead of myself. The church was at 5.30pm and we are still in the morning.

Since the rites of marriage was in Italian I wanted the baptism to be in English. We had been to visit the priest a few nights before the wedding to go through the wedding plans, but I was under the impression his church was in Cosenza and it was not, so by the time we found the church in a mountainous town we only had a 2 second chat before we had to rush off. I had remembered badly, as you do when you have 100000000 other things to do, and thought the priest had said he didn’t need me to print the English baptism booklet for him. Bel marito not trusting my memory made me call the priest, on the morning of the wedding since I had tried the day before but there was no answer and I forgot to try again. So my bad memory was confirmed, the priest wanted the baptism in English and I in my emotional state (tears for now and tantrums later) didn’t know what to do. The internet was so slow I don’t know why I bothered using it, the websites impossible to find, and when I finally found some random sermon it was so stupidly random talking a lot about the devil that my twin told me to let it go and have the baptism in Italian.
It has been said that I am stubborn, ok, it is a well know fact that I am so, and I wouldn’t give up but in the end I had to give in. I had to because if I didn’t stop crying my eyes would be puffy before the wedding even began.

Once I had calmed down, waited in line to have a shower since being a bride doesn't always mean you get precedence, and once I was feeling almost my normal self, ready to go to the hair dressers there was a knock on the door.