DON’T MESS WITH THE BRIDE’S MOTHER!
♪ ♪ Here comes ♫ the bride… Oh, wait, I forgot. I’m not the bride. I’m the bride’s mother!
Well, I was just reminiscing about the glory days, that’s all!
Hmmm, glory days, maybe; but also very stressful, those days of marriage preparation. Now that I recall them more clearly, I remember a panicked plea to my fiancé: “Please, puhleeeeeeze, let’s elope… NOW!” That was right after the session with my mother on the final seating plan for our wedding reception. After all the months of careful preparation and diligent attention to every detail of wedding etiquette, she was deliberately (actually, downright gleefully) intending to place the groom’s guests in all the “choice” seats at the elegant Darien Holiday Inn: some right next to the band, some very close to the doors leading to the kitchen, and none anywhere close to that head table!
What had caused an otherwise gentle woman to abandon all the good will and social grace that she had cultivated in herself and instilled in her children? The Response Cards. Specifically, the response cards that were, well, not quite the responses one hopes for when planning a formal dinner:
Mr. Lou Foster (1) √ will attend “if I don’t have a National Guard meeting that day.” (I promise you, he wrote that!)
Mr. and Mrs. Robert Brown (2) 4 persons √ will attend (Only Mr. and Mrs. were invited, but, hey, children don’t take up much room, right?)
Miss Laura Daly (1) 2 persons √ will attend “Moe, hope you don’t mind – wait ‘til you see who I’m bringing!” (I was curious. Mom was furious.)
Mr. Jack Daniels (1) √ will attend “I’m sorry, where’s the wedding? The dog ate my invitation!”
Ok, I made up that last one because I really can’t remember the rsvp that put Mom over the edge, but she did indeed take it out on the groom’s whole family and guests with a bizarre seating plan. Never, ever make the bride’s mother mad. She has too much power!
And now I’m the bride’s mother! This is looking better all the time! The upgrade and the experience of two weddings within a year (thankfully, both at Heather’s Glen) have provided me with some insights, discoveries, successes, and, er…errors that I’m excited to share with you. My name is Maureen and I’m the Mother of the Bride. But if you’re reading this, you’re probably a Mother of the Bride, too. So you can call me Moe.
