Bring out the Kleenex and queue up the in-room porn.

I’m going to a wedding this weekend and I’m staying in a hotel. 

It’s the wedding of two of the best kids around. The salt of the earth son of a close friend and his smart, personable, pretty, got-it-all-together bride-to-be. 

But I’m using the term “kids” loosely here. Because that’s what you call people younger than you when you’re already in your mid-forties. I’m not old enough to be either one of their parents nor am I young enough to truly be their peer.

It’s been a while since I’ve been to somebody’s first wedding. Or any wedding for that matter. I think the next to last wedding I went to was my own. Well, my second one. And that was almost 4 years ago. You can even read my faux New York Times wedding announcement.
But, you know, you get to a certain age and weddings just don’t happen as often.
When I was in my mid to late 20s, all my friends were getting married. It was a few years filled with expensive weekends away, fancy clothes, (sometimes) ugly bridesmaids’ dresses and lots of laughs and good cheer. I got married then too. For the first time.
Seven to eleven years into that marital wave, after we had birthed a few kids, some of the marriages fell apart. Mine was one of them. And not to be flip but, hey, someone has to be a part of the 50% of marriages that fail.
But I still believe in the institution of marriage. And I still believe in love. Sure it’s taken me two times to get it right. But who’s counting. And in 3 weeks, I’ll celebrate my 4th wedding anniversary with husband number 2, who is also known as the last husband I’ll ever have.
So I’m really looking forward to the wedding weekend. For many reasons.
Weddings are full of hope and happiness. Not to mention good food, champagne, a little dancing and, in this case, tuxedos. I’ve never seen my husband in a tuxedo much less a suit. The closest he ever got was a navy blue blazer worn at our wedding. It wasn’t even his. He had left his at our house 80 miles away and had to borrow his brother-in-law’s. And it was too big. But I thought he looked handsome.
He’ll look handsome this Saturday night too. Black tie. Gorgeous setting. Fabulous food. Helping our friend celebrate his son’s good fortune. And we’ll spend the night, without kids, in a chichi boutique hotel on the beach. (That’s where the in-room porn comes in, though we probably won’t even turn the TV on because Husband + Tuxedo = Whew, it’s getting hot in here.)
And I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.
That the two kids, who aren’t really kids, are bravely going in to this new world together. And, when they do, they’ll be surrounded by their family and their friends. And us: two survivors who have not soured on the institution of marriage, who haven’t given up on love and who love life and enjoy every moment we’re together. (Okay, that’s laying it on a little thick. How about every moment the kids aren’t fighting and I’m not cleaning the house. Still, we’re happier than most.)
As the groom’s father once said, upon meeting me for the first time 7 years ago, there’s somebody for everybody. I’ve got my somebody and the kids have theirs.

And when the bride and groom say their vows on Saturday night, with my husband and I out in the audience holding hands, I’ll get teary eyed (bring out the Kleenex) and sentimental remembering my own (second) wedding. And feeling lucky that I found someone that I wanted to share my life with (including those fighting children and the dirty house).

I can’t wait to be a part of the celebration.