If I had it to do over again...

So as you know, Mark and I are engaged. We're very excited to get married and are looking forward to a very special family-focused celebration.

Neither of us want the big, cookie-cutter wedding reception. We're content to skip the DJ, sliced-beef buffet and corny cake-cutting photos. Instead we're planning a rather small, somewhat non-traditional affair that we hope will be intimate and special.

For me, this will not be my first wedding. My first wedding had a very typical Midwestern reception. We had the predictable, gravy-soaked buffet dinner and ended the night singing, "A little bit louder now!" with 175 friends, family members, co-workers, distant relatives, parents' friends and general acquaintances.

While the reception was fine, the marriage wasn't, and frankly, I don't want this reception to look, taste or feel remotely like the first.

I'm finding that a second trip down the aisle is a mixed bag. While I'm so excited about getting married again, I still feel a little weird about, well... getting married again.


I try to look forward, only focusing on June 20, 2009, but you can't really plan a second wedding and not glance back at least a few times. And glancing back TOTALLY sucks, because it's a reminder of what was ultimately a painful experience.

And I've gotta be honest, I'm having a hard time with some of the basic stuff that should be easy, but isn't. Dress shopping should be fun, but instead, I feel anxious and unsure about what's appropriate. The thought of wearing a big, puffy wedding ballgown doesn't feel right, but I don't think I should wear a burlap bag over my head either.

I know I shouldn't be ashamed about my past - and Mark NEVER makes me feel that I should. But, I can't help but wonder if somewhere, somebody's whispering, "Let's just hope that this one works out for her."

So, we've got 9 months to go until the big day. So far, we've booked the church and an incredible site for what we're calling our Wedding Celebration. We've rented out a romantic, yet slightly kitschy restaurant located in an old mansion.

We're keeping the guest list down to about 50, inviting only our immediate family and a few close friends. We don't want the night to end with us not having had the opportunity to talk to everyone there.

And, maybe most importantly, we want the day to be special for the kids too. We want them to feel included and have fun, because ultimately, this is a party a celebration of family.

Our family is growing, expanding. I'm not just gaining a husband who I will love, honor and cherish -- my kids are gaining a step dad, a new role model, friend, and father figure.

And, you know what? It really doesn't matter what I will wear or what I think anyone might say about it. When we're 90 years old, sitting side-by-side in our recliners, we won't remember the details of the day. But we'll remember how we felt and how our family grew, both in people and in love -- and that's what really matters.