A time held tradition is that the bride’s father is asked permission before the engagement and kept secret until the groom pops the question. At the time my parents had not yet moved to Tampa, so my father would stay with me during work trips. One night my friend, Alisha (dear friend I co-hosted a baby shower for) and I were working out with a trainer in my living room while our boyfriends (now husbands) were having some beers in the back yard with my dad. Somewhere in between pushups and squats my father and Alisha’s boyfriend, Adam, came in to replenish their supply.
(Extremely excited, like a 10 year old girl at a Justin Bieber concert) My dad: “Um Amy, Mike might have just asked me for your hand in marriage….” (yes dad you were that excited!)
(Shocked with BIG wide eyes) Adam (Alisha’s now husband): “Um…Bill…I don’t think you were supposed to say anything….”
(Shocked & confused) Me: “Wait, what???? Did I just hear you right?……Is he about to ask me now?? Wait? He said WHAT??
Mike was sitting out by the pool in pure joy as he had gained clearance to propose while completely oblivious to the reality unfolding inside. He came in after a few minutes when the guys didn’t come back with more refreshments and quickly found out the beans had been spilled. But in typical Mike fashion he didn’t care and played it off as if it was part of his master plan.
Mike didn’t pop the desired question for a LONG time. It almost became a game for Mike. Because my dad had let me know way in advance, every dinner or date we went on I was expecting to come home with a sparkly diamond and that soon-to-be-bride glow. Boy was I let down MULTIPLE times. I finally gave up assuming Mike needed more time re-thinking if his Yankee-Brady-Brunch-esque family had room for my southern-conservative-yet-liberal-Californian-esque family.
My questions and prayers were answered with a very surprising proposal a few months later. I was coming home from a long day of work. It was a very hot, humid and sticky Florida summer day. I ran to Target for a few things and of course came home with ten bags of “necessary” purchases. I knew Mike would be there when I got home so I sent a text asking him to help with the bags…he said okay. Tired, sweaty and in dire need of a shower I started to moan when Mike didn’t come out to help. I had beads of sweat on my face and I’m pretty sure my swamp back had seeped through my red cotton dress.
As I came in from the garage the laundry room door was closed. Trying to save time I had carried in all the bags (that were now cutting the circulation on my wrists) and I called out to Mike to help with the door. After the second yell for assistance I’m pretty sure I had steam exiting my ears and nostrils. Using the last bit of energy I lifted my arm (now I was experiencing buyer’s remorse from these “necessary” purchases weighing a ton) and used my pinky finger to pull down on the door handle and pull the door forward.
Then my mouth drooped and I felt like the biggest a$$hole on the planet. Red rose petals and tiny tea light candles made a path to Mike who was on bended knee. As I dropped the bags he leaned over and pressed play on his laptop and Brad Paisley’s “She’s Everything” started to play. Tears and sweat poured down my cheeks as I slowly started to make my way to Mike.
Mike used red tea light candles and in true Amy fashion I stopped and gasped when I noticed that Mike had spilled red wax all over the carpet. Wanting to immediately clean it up, Mike shook the tiny jewelry box to gain my attention back and said, “come here please.”
After some sweet words…a yes…hugs and kisses…I turned and started to sweep up the petals and tackle the now dyed red carpet from the spilled wax. My tired sweaty temper and crazy organized OCD almost ruined my engagement. It’s a good story that I will enjoy telling my kids and grandchildren…but it will only be a story because my OCD kept me from taking a picture of all Mike’s sweet hard work. We did however get the picture above. We drove over to my parent’s house to share the good news and my mom snapped this priceless memento.
After five years of marriage nothing has changed. I still sweat and lose patience (quickly) and Mike thoroughly enjoys making me wait and pushing my small buttons.