Out of order

My husband and I went to register last night, register for wedding gifts, that is, and yes, we’re already married, and yes, this does sound a little backwards, doesn’t it? But considering the prior order of our business so far, it’s really not that surprising, is it?

I mean once upon a time, in America, in my own life, actually, the story went like this: you fell in love, courted, got engaged, picked a date for the wedding, registered for wedding gifts, bought wedding rings, got married, then got pregnant, picked a name for the baby, had the baby and lived happily ever after. And while this is still the story of many an American, it’s no longer my story.

It all came crashing to a halt with the happily-ever-after. It just didn’t work out for me. I’ve decided, however, that that part is (duh) the most important part, that the happily-ever-after is the meat of the matter; so this time, this time when I fell in love I didn’t worry so much about the order.

In fact, the order is so un-orderly I’m not sure it’s even the right word.

One thing that I do think we got right is being friends before we started dating; we’d known each other for years, in fact, before we even kissed, and although there was the re-acquaintance period and the sometimes tricky transition from friend to lover, we were building on a friendship that was started almost 20 years prior. We knew each other when we were young and stupid, and still liked each other anyway.

We were just kids then, finishing up college, so it’s funny for me to think about the fact that we ended up naming our coming baby on a honeymoon-like vacation last July, when we were neither married nor pregnant, nor engaged, for that matter. We were simply in love.

So a few months later, baby names all lined up, we decided to roll the dice and see what would happen. Could we even get pregnant?

It turns out we could.

So what now? Get married?

Well, yes, let’s, we decided. So we did. And we did manage to buy the wedding rings prior to our nuptials, even if a 5 pm pickup the night before the departure for our Catalina wedding may have been cutting it close.

So we’re married, and pregnant, and have wedding rings. We’re doing pretty good, right? But should we should be living together too? It's probably a good idea.

So we moved in together. And we were (and are) happily working on the happily-ever-after, when some terrific girlfriends of mine decide we should have some sort of celebration of the wedding, some festive gathering of family and friends.

So there’s a party planned. And people keep inquiring about gifts. Gifts for the wedding that came after the pregnancy that came after the naming of the baby that came after the love that came after the friendship.

And although I feel a little bit weird about registering for gifts for a second wedding, it is my husband’s first (and only!) wedding, and he’s a guy with a lot of friends who love him, and want to bestow upon him gifts and good fortune.

So last night when the gal at Pottery Barn looked past my pregnant belly, but paused when she discovered that our names were already the same, and finally commented about the fact that we already have our wedding rings, literally, in hand, we just smiled.

Who wants to be orderly anyway?