Serious Frustration

About a week ago, I was on top of the world, planning my upcoming wedding. It's not going to be a huge affair (I tried one of those before, it didn't stick), but a decent amount of friends and family. I was moving forward, getting things put together. I found my dress. I LOVE my dress...my sister loves my dress, my MoH asked if she could just get the same dress in a different color. So, YEA DRESS! I talked to the flower folks, and found out I'll be able to afford the few flowers I want to do. Just some corsages and bouts for the guys, and a couple of bouquets that I was planning on just grabbing a bunch of pretty flowers and putting together with a pretty ribbon. I wrote up the invitations, found beautiful paper to print it on. Organic Kid and I found a beautiful dress for her to wear, that she's excited to wear (from a kid most comfortable in shorts and t-shirts).

And then things started going south.

It started with the caterer. Organic Guy has spoken to a collegue whose parents cook professionally for pig pickin's (this was the heart of the plan for the wedding, the polka pig pickin). He said that they do the pig, the sides, provide tables and chairs, and would even look into getting a tent arranged. We were thrilled! One-stop shopping for all the post-wedding revelry! But....we waited and waited and waited for the collegues parents to call and finalize. We kept asking when they would call, kept getting assurances, but nothing. Finally, one night at about 10, we get a call. They can't do it. Never had planned to do it. Hadn't called because they were worried we'd be upset. Oh...I wouldn't have been upset if I knew two months ago, when it was first discussed. But now, we're at d-day. I have NO IDEA if we will be able to find someone to cook the pig now. We may have to rent a cooker, make everything else ourselves, and I'll get to spend my wedding day over the stove, hoping the fridge can hold everything, and running back and forth from the kitchen to make sure bowls stay full. Not to mention hoping we can find someone to tend the cooker while Organic Guy and I are getting dressed and hitched and all.

Then I took the beautiful paper and invitation text to Kinkos. Because, you know, I thought they could print things. No. They can't. The paper was too small (5x7 in case you're wondering). As I was talking to the lovely young lady helping me, I saw graduation invitation paper in a carousel behind me. 5x7 paper. So I asked. Okay, I said, If I buy THAT invitation paper, could you do it? Admittedly, I was thinking they were just yanking my chain and just wouldn't use MY paper, because it wasn't Kinkos-approved. She glanced up...Oh, THAT paper? Nope, couldn't do it. I have no idea why we even sell it because that happens all the time. Folks come in, and it's 'but I bought it HERE?!?! What do you mean you can't???' So, she was being honest and helpful. She really was lovely, and provided good service, except that they couldn't print for me. She even tried for me. No dice. And Kinkos has actually gone up in my estimation because of how helpful she was. I SO appreciate effort, even if for naught.

Finally, Organic Guy's parents aren't doing well. They've always been young for their age, active, relatively healty (they're mid/late 70's). But the last year-year and a half has been tough. And these past few weeks have brought undefined heart problems, muscle pain and fatigue, increased difficulty from arthritis in knees, ankles, and hips; just a whole host of things. I feel awful...they're great people, so welcoming and open, they put up with my quirks with a smile, and they're happy that Organic Guy is so happy. They love Organic Kid, and always make us feel welcomed, and a part of the family. So it hurts me to see them hurting. And knowing there's so little I can do. One time, many years ago, I read the phrase "Age comes to us all, and makes us equal." I'd throw that out flippantly all the time, responding to a variety of things. But now, age is coming to Organic Guy's folks. And yes, age is a great equalizer. And I HATE it. I HATE seeing such good people in pain, and frustrated by it, and that I really can't do anything but be there. But listen to them when they hurt. Help with little things when I can, like doing their dishes or folding laundry. It seems so little, though. They've raised this wonderful man, and they've let me take him for mine. And they accept me as theirs, too. And I feel helpless to help them. And, to reiterate, I HATE it.