I love pranks.
Not the pranks viewed on tv reality shows that delight in frightening or embarassing folks. I can't even watch those because it makes me uncomfortable. No one wants to be made to look foolish.
No, I love the pranks that push the envelope a little but show forethought and a little preparation. Like the old pink flamingos in the yard trick. And the forking the lawn trick. I think tp-ing the office is cute. I once saw an entire house wrapped in cellophane but there might have been a deeper reason for that...
A friend of mine once got into my office and replaced all my pictures with photos of her and her husband on a cruise. Her in a bathing suit. My shelf suddenly had sex manuals and viagra samples displayed on it. One time same friend took an unflattering photo I had given her (of me after having fallen asleep among some chocolate chips-indescribable) and had them made into Christmas cards.
THAT took planning!
When my best friend turned 40 I had an old grade school photo of her published in the local newspaper. We dressed up as grannies one year for our bosses' birthday; each patient brought him a sympathy card.
My most favorite prank occurred when my kids were in high school: One evening my son Ryan went to his car to fetch something. In a flash he was back inside laughing hysterically. "I've been PRANKED!" We all rushed outside to see the carnage; it was memorable.
While we were all inside the house that evening, someone had come up to our driveway, taped off a pattern on Ryan's hand-me-down car (blue 1992 Acclaim) and spray painted a fluorescent orange racing stripe along the hood, top, and trunk and added #7 to the side. We never realized it was happening.
Years later we learned that the culprit was a band-mate of Ryan's. It was awesome.
Ryan drove that car proudly for years afterwards.
The spirit of fun made the prank a good one. The display of good humor while shaking up normalcy a bit is almost flattering; I mean, only someone who really knew us would take the time to plan and follow through on something like that.
So on this April Fool's Day, think about someone you like, know, and want to kid a little. Grab the flamingos, cellophane, balloons, photos, spray paint (sparingly) toilet paper, plastic forks.
Then get out there and 'bless' somebody.
Showing posts with label wedding planning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wedding planning. Show all posts
Friday, April 1, 2011
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Tightrope Walking
Romantic movies about weddings LIE!
They depict the mother-daughter relationship while planning a wedding to be all fancy lunches and fantasys shared over spa treatments.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Planning a wedding is inherently stressful. No mistake about it.
For example: Put two stressed adult women in an overheated car on a busy highway on the way to yet another possible reception venue site and you take stress to a whole new level.
We're talking nuclear meltdown.
I learned so much about myself while planning darling daughter's wedding this summer. I'm no stranger to planning events and preparing for them. I've been around, see.
I learned to lose lots of sleep trying to be creative with wedding and reception decorations.
I learned to delegate and find the best people for the right task. That was awesome.
But my biggest lesson was that despite all my brilliant ideas and how absolutely perfect they were and how much Kari and Gareth and everyone else would love them...
they still had to be approved by the bride.
Imagine that.
I really thought I was helping most of the time, being objective and trying to accomplish what my daughter was envisioning for her wedding. Yet most of our arguments centered around her impression that I didn't 'get it,' that what I was creating wasn't what she meant and I was stressing her out.
That was tough to hear. I thought I was being a saint, really. I hadn't said half the things I'd wanted to say. I'd also had to give up some ideas I thought were fabulous (even if I do say so myself).
Yet here she was, saying I was trying to do it MY way.
We got mad a lot. We cried a bit. We hugged a lot.
I learned to walk the tightrope of making sure I remained balanced in my desire to have this be Kari's special day and not my interpretation of it. Yes, I fell off a few times, landing flat on my face. Each time I was able to get back on the rope and keep going.
Because I really love my daughter. It was my time to step aside as the authority over her life and let it be done her way (um, mostly).
And we made it. It was a beautiful event.
At least in my opinion.
They depict the mother-daughter relationship while planning a wedding to be all fancy lunches and fantasys shared over spa treatments.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Planning a wedding is inherently stressful. No mistake about it.
For example: Put two stressed adult women in an overheated car on a busy highway on the way to yet another possible reception venue site and you take stress to a whole new level.
We're talking nuclear meltdown.
I learned so much about myself while planning darling daughter's wedding this summer. I'm no stranger to planning events and preparing for them. I've been around, see.
I learned to lose lots of sleep trying to be creative with wedding and reception decorations.
I learned to delegate and find the best people for the right task. That was awesome.
But my biggest lesson was that despite all my brilliant ideas and how absolutely perfect they were and how much Kari and Gareth and everyone else would love them...
they still had to be approved by the bride.
Imagine that.
I really thought I was helping most of the time, being objective and trying to accomplish what my daughter was envisioning for her wedding. Yet most of our arguments centered around her impression that I didn't 'get it,' that what I was creating wasn't what she meant and I was stressing her out.
That was tough to hear. I thought I was being a saint, really. I hadn't said half the things I'd wanted to say. I'd also had to give up some ideas I thought were fabulous (even if I do say so myself).
Yet here she was, saying I was trying to do it MY way.
We got mad a lot. We cried a bit. We hugged a lot.
I learned to walk the tightrope of making sure I remained balanced in my desire to have this be Kari's special day and not my interpretation of it. Yes, I fell off a few times, landing flat on my face. Each time I was able to get back on the rope and keep going.
Because I really love my daughter. It was my time to step aside as the authority over her life and let it be done her way (um, mostly).
And we made it. It was a beautiful event.
At least in my opinion.
Labels:
marriage,
mother/daughter,
stress,
wedding,
wedding planning
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