I was one of those little girls who grew up planning her wedding. My mom and I would spend hours planning bridesmaids dresses and flowers - both of which were ever changing. The only constant was the Princess in the midst of it ... me. Sadly, none of those little-girls dreams ever came true. My mom died when I was 15, and although I've been married twice, neither one was the amazing, over the top princess extravaganza that I dreamed of so many years before.
As luck would have it, I gained a daughter when I married husband number two (We shan't even discuss husband number one. I have drawn a veil over husband number one. Shhh.) and she grew up and got engaged during her final year of nursing school. She wanted black bridesmaids dresses, a full on religious ceremony, and a kick ass party for a reception. I was SO on that. DD and her biological mom (I shall resist the cruel and childish urge to refer to DDs biological mom as BM. That would be unkind. What? I did say it and now all you can think of is calling her BM? Oh damn. I feel awful) went shopping for dresses, but The Dress never appeared. Then one day she and I had some time to kill before our appointment with the photographer, and we dropped into a bridal shop we saw on the way. Just to look of course, DD really wanted her mom with her when she found The Dress. So of course we found it. Our eyes met in the dressing room mirror and filled with tears, she was suddenly A Bride. I think maybe that was the moment when it all seemed real to us.
For whatever reason, DD's biological mom opted not to be much a part of the planning. This was fine with me, although I don't know how DD felt about it. She and I found a fabulous florist who showed us THE most gorgeous roses I've ever seen. The flowers at DDs wedding were the most remarked upon part of the entire wedding, and to this day I've not seen their equal. We booked the place that DD had her heart set on for the reception. I learned to do calligraphy in order to address the invitations. I became a hot glue gunning machine! I poured over wedding magazines and how-to books. In a way I was finally getting to plan the wedding I'd waited for all my life.
The wedding day finally arrived. We had planned everything with military precision, and were fully aware that something could, and no doubt WOULD go wrong. But still, the day was here. The ceremony was absolutely beautiful despite the fact that 1) I had to go to the communion rail barefoot since my left (very uncomfortable) shoe went missing, and 2) one of the scripture readers wasn't there (caught in traffic apparently). The reception is still being talked about 14 years later as the most fun reception ever despite the fact that 1) the cake was decorated with hideous gold foil instead of the amazing silk ribbon we gave them to use, and 2) BM (damn, did I do that again?) left 20 minutes into the reception taking all the centerpieces with her. No matter. The food was awesome, the bride and groom danced atop the speakers, the party went on for so long that they finally turned on all the lights and started to sweep around us. It was over. Everything that we spent a full year planning and obsessing about had come and gone.
It was beautiful. It was as close to perfect as you can really hope for, and best of all both DH and her new husband said that the day was everything, and maybe a little bit more, than they had dreamed of. That makes everything worthwhile.
What's the answer?
1 week ago