One sentence sum up of the wedding vibe: Sunshine, Daisies, Happiness, and Blessing.

The Info—Photographers: Judy Wiebe and Leor Stanley / Venue: Our friend’s field / Dresses: Modcloth / Lace-Trimmed Planters and Hanging Planters on the Chuppah: Ikea

Other cool stuff we should know about:I look at the photos, and it makes me think a few things:

1. My dream worked. It’s possible. It wasn’t perfect, and I’m so very glad. It was perfect because we are in love and our family and friends felt welcomed, got to celebrate, and had a party with us. Success.
2. We didn’t spend a fortune, I bought my dress online, we didn’t rent chairs or a tent, we had no sound system, our photographers were a good friend and a sibling, we didn’t feed the world. And still people walk up to me on the street of our small town and tell me it was the funnest or coolest wedding they’d ever been to.
3. We planned it long-distance from home and each other over the span of six months while in school, save the week before wedding. It was crazy. It worked.
4. If you don’t want to be crazy at your wedding, odds are you won’t be. The morning of my wedding I was probably calmer than when I wake up five minutes after sleeping through my alarm. It can be fun.
5. I still love my husband. More than my wedding day. And if the wedding was completely different—in a cave, in the winter, with no one there—I would love him just as much.

Favorite thing about the wedding: Having a field full of daisies to park my VW in the sunshine and picnic with my husband, family, and friends.

by Maddie Eisenhart

Earlier today Meg wrote a great post on privacy at weddings. It’s a topic close to my heart, as I photograph dozens of weddings each year and am constantly surprised at the ubiquity of cameras and phones present during precious moments like processionals and vows. (This photographer leaves her camera at home during weddings.  Except maybe instant. Because that thing is fun at parties.) And while a lot of what Meg had to say involves working with the people making your wedding happen and managing everyone’s expectations (including your own), sometimes it’s just easier in the wedding planning process to let your stuff do the talking for you instead.

So with that in mind, we asked Charmaine of Everly Calligraphy to help us come up with a pretty but to-the-point sign asking guests to respect your unplugged wedding. The resulting creation is a beautiful 8.5 x 11″ hand-written document that you can download, print and frame somewhere at your wedding, cluing folks into the game plan. And while you can’t change the text of these signs, since Charmaine is extra kind, we’ve got a bunch of different color variations for you to choose from (click after the jump to see more) and Charmaine even included the raw Photoshop files for the sign in case you want to get crazy and change the text or background color. I tried my hand at it and came up with this version, which I’m secretly kind of in love with:

To download your set of printable signs (which includes both the PDFs and the PSD files bundled together in a .zip file), just click here. My hope for this year is that I’ll start seeing a lot more of these, and a lot less of this:

And now, if you’d like to take a peek before you download, check out some of the color combinations Charmaine created for us after the jump:

Photo by APW Sponsor Hart & Sol West 

by Meg Keene, APW Executive Editor

A Wedding Invitation Is Not A Media Pass

I knew something was changing when a few years ago, I got this question: A reader’s uncle had videotaped her vows on his iPhone, and the day after the wedding had uploaded them to his Facebook page and tagged her in the post. His message was that her vows were so lovely that he felt compelled to share them. Her message was that she felt like her privacy had been violated. She wondered if it would be tremendously rude to ask him to take the video down. “Of course it’s not rude,” I replied. “What was rude was to record one of the most personal moments of someone’s life, and to share it as if it belonged to you.”

Fast forward to 2013, and that exchange already feels dated. Mark Zuckerberg thinks that the amount that we share online and through social media will double every year. I don’t think that’s exactly true, since already we’re all shutting down feeds we can’t keep up with (for me, that’s Facebook—sorry Mark). But it’s true that the way people share has changed drastically in the last few years. It’s not just the ubiquity of social networking sites, it’s the way smart phones have put effortless power in our hands. If we can easily take a video, or snap a picture, we can just as thoughtlessly share those photos or videos. We’ve forgotten the person who records the moment (and makes it pretty) is not the person the moment belongs to. We’ve forgotten that privacy has value.

You Don’t Need A Reason 

The other week, I was reading an advice column about a woman who didn’t want her children’s pictures shared on social media. Since I’m in a substantially similar position (I share my kid’s pictures in very limited and reasonably private ways), I related. But the advice columnist’s response threw me. They told the woman to tell people, “I know I’m paranoid, but I’d rather you didn’t share my kids picture online.” And thanks for playing, but no. I don’t ask people to not share pictures of my kid because I’m afraid of predators; I just think that he should get to choose how he lives on the internet. I don’t want to make that choice for him, and I definitely don’t want some random person making the call. I disagree with the advice columnist because I don’t think asking people not to share your private life online requires an excuse. I just think it requires a please and thank you.

If you’re asking people to not share your wedding pictures on social media, you might feel like you need a reason, or feel compelled to make an excuse. You might think, “I’m not comfortable having my pictures shared, but it’s not like I’m famous, so what right do I have to ask for that?” But the reason is simply that weddings are private. You invited your uncle, not your uncle and all of his Facebook friends. You’re collecting a community of people to witness a very personal commitment. By doing that, you have the right to request and expect privacy. Figuring out how to do that well is the key.

How Do You Want Your Wedding Shared?

As with all things wedding, this is a conversation best had with your partner first, and then clearly articulated to vendors as well as friends and family. Let’s walk through questions to ask yourself and others.

The Moment

Of course, there is a hidden upside to limiting people’s social sharing of your wedding: it forces people to be in the moment. As I talked about in my “Don’t Pin It—Do It” post, we’ve all become so used to sharing what we’re doing online, that we sometimes don’t know how to turn it off. Sometimes the reminder to put away your phone, to put down your camera, comes as a relief. I don’t have to document this one, I can just experience it. Thanks for that.

**Note: For a different (but equally important) take on technology and weddings, check out Offbeat Bride’s classing The Unplugged Wedding.**

Photo by APW Sponsor Kara Schultz

—Meg

by Anonymous

A while ago Meg joked about how glad she was that she planned her wedding BEFORE she got knocked up, and not the other way around. Silly Meg.

You see, planning a wedding when you’ve got a baby, toddler, small child, angst-ridden teenager, or a child that won’t leave home, is a breeze. I don’t have much experience with the older kids, so I’ll just keep my advice to the tiny people. Let me run down a quick list of pro tips in case anyone is in the throes of planning and can use the hints.

Tip #1: Put your kid to work.
Okay, babies are pretty worthless when it comes to wedding planning. But they are useful as paperweights, and their slobber is great for sealing envelopes. Who needs that wax seal when you’ve got infant mouth goo? Toddlers, on the other hand are super helpful. They can help organize all your lists and planning supplies. If they think something is a bad idea they’ll put it in the toilet. Or someplace where you will never find it. Trust their judgment.

Tip#2: Your wedding is about entertainment. For your baby.
Do you really want to deal with a temper tantrum at your wedding? No. So your job is to make sure that your baby has a good time at your wedding. Rent a bouncy castle if you need to. Same goes for wedding fare. Hot dogs, anyone? Or consider getting married on a weekday and dropping darling child off at daycare.

Tip #3: Lots of wine.
This is very important. Lots of wine during the planning process and at the wedding. Only way to get through it. Mmmm.

Tip #4: Wear a beautiful white dress.
Bawhahahhahahahahhahahahha. That was mean, I know. But seriously, go ahead and wear one. Just don’t get all bent out of shape when your little one tears it or wipes their snotty nose on it, or puts an awesome dirty handprint on it.

Tip #5: Get lots of rest during the planning process.
I like to go to bed immediately after my toddler. So we both sleep from about 8:30pm to 5:30am. OMFG it is so wonderful. Me time. My fiancé likes to watch TV after I go to bed early. I checked our DVR once to find some Sesame Street for the child, and it was full of recordings of True Blood. This discovery made me really reconsider things marriage-wise. But it was getting close to 8:30, so I just went to bed instead.

So yeah, wedding planning with a child can be challenging. Planning with your future husband sans child can be equally challenging. But I found out All The Things about planning for a life event with my fiancé while we were planning for the child. I found out that he has to have a say in everything. Which is so damn annoying I can’t even tell you. Mostly because I have an amazeballs idea, he shoots it down cause it sounds too non-traditional, then a bit later he’s on board. Also annoying because I like to run the show.

I also learned (while planning the baby shower) that my fiancé thinks people eat five to six pounds at every meal. No. People don’t. So deciding on catering and amounts to cater is always something we find problematic. He over ordered for the baby shower, but ordered a perfect amount for the child’s first birthday party. Blergh.

He is also extremely compassionate and supportive. He doesn’t rub my feet anymore (horsesh*t!), but he knows when I need a hug, which is almost as good. He knows that my mom is going to disappoint me no matter what, so he reminds me to be careful when making plans with her—all details he learned when I was seventy-two pounds heavier and craving Taco Bell and hot wings on the daily.

We both also know that when we don’t see eye to eye on something, it’s tough. Raising a baby is tough; when it’s Rosemary’s Baby (like my little sweetie turns into) then it’s even tougher. We don’t always agree on parenting crap like discipline or what to feed the child or bedtime. For real. What dumb things to argue about, right? Well, it happens. I suppose it’s a lot like arguing over the chargers or the chairs or the vows you’ll say. And now we’ve got a child in the planning mix. Seriously, the last thing I want is my kiddo to be bored out of his mind and stuck at his parent’s wedding. I can only imagine the amount of terror he would cause.

We cleared out a whole section at an Olive Garden just last night. The child wasn’t even mad, he was just being a two-year-old. And geeze, so many people forget what being two is like. You scream at the top of your lungs just to do it, you put salad in your hair because it feels interesting, and you spill, like, everything. Because you are two.

Any huge life event, like getting married, or having a baby—in whatever order—gives a couple a foundation to build on. Sometimes that foundation falls apart; sometimes it’s stronger than you could have ever imagined.

But you build.

And you learn that your partner can’t drive a screw in without stripping it.

No really, honey. Please. Stop assembling things.

Photo by APW Sponsor Kara Schultz

—Meg

by Anna Wilhite

Right now my brother and his fiancé are planning their October wedding. I am planning to move cities in August to move in with my long-distance partner. For different reasons, my future sister-in-law and I both have ended up doing most of the heavy lifting in planning our respective events. We are both drowning in spreadsheets, budgets, and stress. We are both working full-time while trying to coordinate life-altering events involving massive amounts of money. We are both receiving well-meaning but unsolicited and irritating advice. We are both struggling to communicate with our partners, to merge finances, to find a place to live where we’ll start our new lives, to learn how to protect our identities and independence even while we intertwine our lives closer and closer with another person’s.

There are some big differences, though. One of us has a brigade of friends convened specifically for providing moral support throughout the planning process. One of us is given (right or wrong) a blank check on behavior due to stress levels. One of us is participating in a societally approved rite of passage that merits gifts and congratulations starting with our closest family right on down to workplace acquaintances.

Hint: It ain’t me.

Though I think preparing for marriage and planning a wedding absolutely deserves the special attention and care it is given (my partner and I plan to marry at some point), it is more than a little frustrating that major life changes not related to marriage—or having children—are not given this kind of care. My mom brags on Facebook about the wedding, or about my other brother’s children—and she should! Because oh my God they are cute. But she doesn’t brag that I too am making a permanent, if not yet legal, commitment to my partner, or that we too are beginning to build a life together as a baby family. Similarly, I don’t feel comfortable sharing with work associates that I’m moving in with my partner in the same way that I’d feel comfortable sharing that I was getting married. There isn’t an entire industry churning out magazines and blogs about how to make this happen—actually, there is a terrible dearth of any kind of meaningful advice that digs deeper at what moving in together means. Mostly what I found was, “Make sure you really like this person;” “Don’t move in together just to save on rent;” and—from a men’s magazine—“Be ready to give up Monday Night Football for Say Yes to the Dress.” Okay. Got it. (They’re wrong about MNF, by the way. I’m a football fanatic.)

In fact, I found APW a few months ago by searching “moving in together for the first time” and found a whole series of very high-caliber posts (and comments) about moving in. Um, jackpot! I had found a safe haven where whip-smart, progressive women and men rally together to make sense of the very difficult task of growing up. Whenever anything is tagged with “The Hard Stuff” I almost always feel that I could Exactly! the whole post because I am experiencing the same things— just outside of the context of getting married. For example, while for some moving in together is as simple as renting a U-Haul, driving twenty minutes, and arguing about how to arrange the furniture, our journey to live-in bliss has been a tiny bit more difficult. Here’s a taste:

I am leaving my hometown where I have lived all of my twenty-four years, where all of my family lives and almost all of my very close high school friends still live. I am moving about eighty miles away to a small city I don’t like very much, where I know no one except my partner and his friends and family. We don’t currently have a place to live. We’d been searching fruitlessly awhile when a great opportunity came up for us to rent the house owned (and lived in) by one of my partner’s coworkers. We met with them, saw the house, verbally agreed to move forward. A huge burden was lifted from my back and we made all sorts of happy plans for the spaces and the lot. Wind chimes, a fire pit, a picture wall, a no-cats-allowed room dedicated to my partner’s vinyl collection. But… you guessed it. They called us last week and said they’d changed their minds about moving and the house was no longer available to rent. So, we’re back on the hunt, trying to find a place that will allow three cats and include all appliances including washer and dryer in a residential neighborhood for under $1000. (This is the part where you laugh and say, “Good luck, honey.”)

You can see how this is not just “moving in together to save on rent.” This is the real deal. This is our invisible wedding: a serious, long-haul commitment between the two of us as partners, involving major life decisions that affect our goals and our identities—which happens not to involve wedding vows, rings, dresses, or cake. (Though it does involve large quantities of Mexican food and snuggling, which is at least as nice as cake, don’t you think?)

The most difficult part of our invisible wedding is my struggle to balance my career goals with the move. I work for a company I love and am terrifically proud of, one that I have invested a lot of time and tears in, and I am not willing to give that up or take a step back within the company in order to accommodate the move. I can’t telecommute in my current job, so this means I am currently job searching within the company to find a position at a higher level that will allow me to create a custom mix of commuting and telecommuting. I’ve had several interviews but have been declined each time. Our Plan B is to keep my current role and open up our budget to a five-day commute. Originally we had committed as partners to a very aggressive debt-repayment plan to be put in place once we move in, but if we go to Plan B, we’ll be reevaluating that to allow for the extra gas money I will need. This was a difficult decision to make because it will push back our “We are debt free!” celebration day by almost a year, but my partner and I agreed that since we were both unwilling to leave our jobs, we would have to find a way to make this work for us even if it meant changing something else we wanted.

Compromise, dealing with disappointment, coming to terms with the reality of your budget, adjusting your expectations…sounds a little like wedding planning. And without the books, blogs, or financial and emotional support from family. Or the beautiful pictures. Invisible.

Planning this move has been the most difficult thing I’ve ever experienced. I’ve begun experiencing anxiety attacks for the first time. I haven’t gone much more than a twenty-four-hour stretch without crying in more than six months. I pack my weeks full of hangouts and get-togethers because I’ll be gone soon, which means I don’t get much sleep, my house is a wreck, and my cats are practically raising themselves. I keep asking my partner why he hasn’t left me yet, when I am so clearly unhinged and unstable. But that’s the beauty of it. He hasn’t left me, and he’s not going to. Invisible or not, this is our version of a wedding. He’s sticking around because he loves me, and he’s committed to me, no matter what. We’ve grown so close throughout this process, even when it’s difficult—especially when it’s difficult. He’s learned what kind of communication I need from him to help me stay calm. I’ve learned to trust him to complete tasks without my help. Through having difficult conversations and yes, doing some arguing, we’ve gained invaluable skills that help us communicate more effectively and connect more powerfully.

We can’t be together during the week because of the distance, so every night when I’m falling asleep alone in my cold bed, I’m reminded why we started this process in the first place. It’s because at the end of it, I’ll fall asleep next to him every night for the rest of our lives. And that is worth every minute of the journey.

Photo by APW Sponsor Kara Schultz

by Lisa M. G. Dennis (Giggles)

I love traditions. I love the anchoring they give us. One year into our marriage I wrote a post about how we were establishing our own holiday traditions, figuring out what mattered to both of us from our families and how we were going to make it work with our new family. And I must admit that as our first anniversary approached I stressed more than one logically should about the fact that we’d get ONE shot to establish “things we do every anniversary” and spent more time than I should have trying to figure out something meaningfully significant we could do every anniversary, understanding that life would change and take us different places as the years went by. With three anniversaries under our belt, I can look back and laugh. The meaningfully significant thing we’ve done every time was something that happened without any thought at all. And I love it.

While the big traditions are fun, I like the little ones as well. I’ve been thinking about what makes something a tradition rather than a habit. While the two can be used as synonyms, they aren’t the same. One of the definitions of tradition is “a specific custom or practice of long standing.” But I don’t think my long-standing practice of flossing and then brushing my teeth before bed every night counts as a tradition. I’d never call my almost lifelong custom of eating Cheerios for breakfast a tradition. My practice of doing the dark laundry before the light laundry—not a tradition. Nor is how I fold my socks. Those are habits.

Over my many years in post-secondary school I’ve taken four classes that changed my world (surprisingly, only one had to do with my specific area of study). My last semester of my bachelor’s degree I took a folklore class. It changed how I view my community, whoever happens to be in my community at that time. One way to describe folk art is that it is taking the everyday mundane of life and making it beautiful, meaningful. It’s decorating the pot you cook in, weaving a pattern into the blanket you sleep under, pinning a flower to the hat that keeps you safe from the sun, the flourish you add when preparing the evening meal.

Our daily traditions are our folk art. Blowing a kiss at each other whenever one of us leaves the house (or at the stop sign at the end of the street if we both leave at the same time) gives meaning and beauty to departure. Saying the same phrase to each other as we turn off the light at night provides comfort and security as we go to sleep.

Our daily traditions grew out of our life over time. They weren’t handed down specifically from generations past. Who knows if our future generations will do them. But they are our traditions. They add meaning, significance, and beauty to our daily routines.

The big traditions are wonderful, and I love them. But I love the little small ones that add a touch of connection to every day.

Photo by APW Sponsor Vivian Chen

One sentence sum up of the wedding vibe: Violins, Whales, and Winnebagos.

The Info—Photographer: Jillian West of Little Bat Photography (APW Sponsor) / Location: Bodega Head, Sonoma Cost State Beach / Venue: Winnebago / Aimee’s Dress: J.Crew / Aimee’s Reception Dress: BHLDN (Worn for the party the following day…but I wanted some pics on the beach, too! Ah, vanity.) / Aimee’s Pearls and Cameo Brooch: Heirlooms from Aimee’s grandmothers / Aimee’s Shoes: Anthropologie / Amiee’s Headpiece: Ruche / Patrick’s Shoes and Jacket: Barney’s Outlet

Other cool stuff we should know about: We wanted our wedding to feel comfortable, and it was. Having recently returned from a yearlong road trip, using our trusty RV as our dressing room and staging area felt natural. Plus, it enabled us to hold our little wedding at a gorgeous state park without any real facilities. We had just twelve guests—our families joined us on a bluff overlooking the Pacific for a sweet, intimate ceremony, followed by cake and champagne. The next day we threw a celebratory party at one of our favorite restaurants with a larger group of loved ones.

The wind was chilly but our hearts were warm and full. Everyone pitched in and added their touch. I made the cake, which my aunt put together while we took photos. During the ceremony, Patrick’s father read a poem, and his mom read a blessing. My father, a violinmaker, played the Polish lullaby that sent me to sleep when I was a child. My mom made corsages, ribbon streamers, and boutonnières. She read during our ceremony, too. Plus, everyone was amazingly color-coordinated without prior discussion and the sun peeked out minutes before we exchanged our vows.

The day was a happy blur. We spoke important words. We teared up. We spotted whales off the coast.

We couldn’t stop smiling.

Favorite thing about the wedding: The simplicity and natural beauty. The abundance of joy. The laughter.

by Anonymous

I lost something today. Something valuable to me.

I suppose that is not right, as I know where it went, and in fact it was I who gave it away. And willingly. But it feels like a loss. And it is my loss alone. For my friends remind me that this is what I wanted. And it was. And it is.

My husband does not see it as a loss. For him, it is gain. It is a symbol of all the gains we have made together, all the struggles we have overcome, and our brand new commitment to each other.

And I agree. For all those things are true. But when I look at that new piece of plastic, with those two words that separately are familiar and now, put together, look strange. I miss the old combination.

For in giving up my name, I did not expect to feel the girl attached to it drift away. The girl who, before him, lived and learned and loved. And with him, slowly added an “us” to a “me” when decisions had to be made.

And this was an “us” decision. Made with two loving hearts and two thoughtful heads in the joy and expectations of a burgeoning family. And that is how us decisions should be made. So I do not regret any of it.

I know that like my mother before me, my grandmother before her, and generations of strong, lovely, progressive women whose blood flows through my veins, I will adjust. And like my aunt, who chose two names, and my new sister-in-law, who chose to not change, I am making the right choice. And all those women before me with their brave, beautiful choosing, have allowed it to be not only a loss, but also a choice.

So tomorrow, when my students call me by the name that is new, I will smile. I will embrace this new combination that is me. The me that is with him. And when they forget, I will smile also. And remember that maybe the name may be changed. But the girl is not. Gaining does need to mean losing. And I am the addition of all that has happened. New experiences do not lead to subtractions.

But tonight I will go home. And eat some chocolate. And drink some wine. And shed some tears. Because when you lose something. Even when it is your choice. Even when it is right. It is okay to mourn.

Photo by APW Sponsor Jesse Holland

We’re here! Friday open thread. For me, this week lives in my mind in a string of pictures: taking the baby to his first wedding, my first Mother’s Day, and our first APW shoot in almost a year. (I’m not pregnant any more! I don’t have a teeny tiny baby! I can work a long intense day on location!) The week was a work full of business stuff, good and stressful, but it included a work day like this, so I consider myself lucky as hell:

(That magic coming to the blog soon.)

How was your week? It’s your open thread! Hop on it!

xo

Meg

Highlights of APW this week

“Being Black, Feminist, Throughly Girly, and Conflicted.” On sorting out symbols and why they matter during wedding planning.

My manafesta (as a commenter called it) on women and work. This is a big one.

“It Stands Alone.” What a wedding can mean, even when the marriage is disolved. This re-framed weddings for me, and I write about them for a living.

Rachel on the modern reality of planning a wedding far from friends and family (movie montages be damned).

Photo taken by Natalie at belle-flower