This Blog's for You

As I write this, 11 computer screens in America are logged onto www.mommyofthebride.blogspot.com. As you read it, the blog approaches 1500 hits since its start 7 months ago. Post by post, the readership has been increasing.

I started the blog to record and celebrate the year leading up to my daughter Emily’s wedding. At the time I was working on some pretty heavy writing – a memoir of loss and survival – which completed my requirements for a writing degree in December. (More on the memoir at http://www.laurabhayden.com/) What a pleasure it was to start to focus on Em’s future while I wrapped up some very necessary reflection on the past.

Like the memoir, this blog seems to have taken on a life of its own. Last week alone, there were 84 U.S. hits, along with two that originated from Canada and two from Costa Rica.  I can pinpoint the Costa Rican connection. Ariel - my cousin-once-removed (what a polarizing title for a first cousin’s daughter!)  moved  to Central America with her recently wed husband in January.

 But my Canadian readers? Who are you? Mothers of brides? Brides? Or perhaps hopeless romantics like my reader pal whose wedding anniversary is the same day as Em and Ry’s date. It would be fun to know.

 And who is calling up  the site from Germany and Russia this week – along with readers from the Netherlands and Belarus this month?  I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t even know where Belarus was located before starting the blog; but through your connection, I’ve found out  it is a landlocked country in Eastern Europe, bordered  by Russia to the northeast, Ukraine to the south, Poland to the west, and Lithuania and Latvia to the northwest. Thank you for giving me reason to learn that. I wonder if the entries appear in the native tongues of my European fans?

And to my Algerian, Danish, and British readers -- who  logged in early on, but not lately – it  would be cool to see  you in the current Google Blogspot statistics again  - and even cooler to have you and the regular readers become official “followers”  like MH - my colleague from my high-school teaching days .  That would eliminate the one-way mirror feel from my side of blog post..

I’m thrilled to have all of you dear readers  -- family, friends, and citizens of the world -- share the joy of planning Em and Ry’s wedding. Your loyalty to this site assures me: Loves does make the world go round.

PAGE VIEWS BY COUNTRY

United States             1,389 Russia                          13 Germany                         9 Canada                           6 United Kingdom              5 Costa Rica                      3 Algeria                            2 Netherlands                    2 Belarus                           1 Denmark                         1

Snip and Tuck

Em’s wedding gown is  almost a wrap.

I’ve marveled at its transformation. At first, a lovely, albeit, large garment that – on a hanger –  mesmerized my daughter. Yet, the gown was a one-of-a kind, the design no longer available. When Emily slipped into the over-sized dress, the shopkeeper gathered the excess material with large clips fastened down its long back zipper. Even with this awkward fit, Em could see the possibilities of this dress - the details of which have been removed from this post to keep the audience guessing!  Trust me, the dress emits the casual elegance that  fits the little-bit-country, little-bit-classy design of the event. A milieu chosen by the future bride and groom.

The first dressmaker to assess the necessary alterations told us - yes, the dress could be refitted, but no- she was not the one to do it. Yet she knew a gal who might give it a try. So we traveled a few hours north to Lowell, MA to meet Jenn, a full-time tailor for Nordstrom’s  who majored in the fine art of textiles the way some people major in the fine art of painting – or writing. She didn’t consider  Em’s over-sized gown too much of a garment  to tackle. Instead she  said, “I can’t wait to get my hands on it.”  That’s exactly what the MOTB needed to hear.

Jenn had “rebuilt” other gowns. The most recent had to be expanded – for a pregnant bride. Compared to that, Em’s would be a cinch – for a girl who sews the way Alicia Keyes sings, that is.  Lots of measuring, ripping of ALL seams, relocating of darts. Like I said, rebuilding.

Now, seven months later, the potential in that first reflection of the dress in the bridal shop mirror has been realized.   The basted seams are now sewn.  I call it the gown that Jenn built.

Four Generations

Em's cousin Stacey

There was a family fest last weekend – a baby shower for Em’s oldest cousin Stacey who is expecting her first baby in June. Four generations of reveling relatives were there - from Stacey’s two grandmothers to the two great grandsons of the clan.  The youngest guest had just turned six; the matriarch of the family is approaching her mid-eighties.

Not since Stacey’s wedding, about eight years ago, have we, as a family, gathered to celebrate the future.  We’ve had our share of holiday and birthday get-togethers through those years. But those red-letter-events have been honoring the day at hand and traditions of the past more than the days that lay ahead. The mindset at Stacey’s baby shower looked forward to family growth and – as Em's wedding  will – the promise of the future. What a joy to be toasting the years ahead and all their possibilities, once again.

Four generations!

"I Do" Have Lots To Do

I started writing MOMMY OF THE BRIDE seven months ago, just as the one-year countdown to Emily’s wedding began. The big day is now five months down the aisle – I mean road. Yep, I’ve started to think in wedding lingo the way my grandparents would think automatically in Italian before they could speak “the English” when they first came to America in the 1920s. It seems everything I do and think lately has taken on a wedding slant.  In my mind, last month’s “April showers” had nothing to do with rain. I had wedding shower planning on the brain.

At that unencumbered one-year-before-the Big-Day mark  - last October - we (referring to the WEdding  “WE”: Em, Ry, and Ry’s parents – Nancy and Matt)  had already chosen  the Barn at Wesleyan, the second Saturday in October, and the minister . WE then reserved blocks of rooms at nearby hotels - which, by the way are starting to fill. And WE watched the fall foliage a little more closely than usual, especially the display on the one-year-ahead -of-the-wedding   weekend, to get an idea of the colors and temperatures  we could expect in October of 2011.

That was the one-decision-at-a-time stage of wedding planning. One week, sign with the photographer. In another week or two, draft the  flower agreement. Later in the month –a  guest list pow-wow.  Leisurely planning for sure.

WE’ve now reached simultaneous decisions-making  time. Full menu choices (WE opted for fall fare), lighting arrangements(ceiling, yes; support beams, no), and figuring out the time to start and finish the party were the particulars of last week(last item being more complicated than one would think). Shower date,shower place, and shower menu are coming together this week, along with hotel-to-site and then back-to-hotel guest transportation for the day of the wedding. And I’m being asked pretty regularly, “Get your dress yet?”

 The singular questions that demanded the singular answers seven months ago are turning into the many questions that need answers today – and I expect will eventually have needed them yesterday, if you get my drift. So I'm rewording a popular T-shirt slogan to: I can only answer one  question a day. Today isn't that question's day. Or is it?  
Time to up this wedding workout.

.

Royal Models

I’m no Royalty groupie, but the Brits seemed to have gotten - getting hitched - right this time:

Marry for love.

Keep, but tweak, tradition.

Have a sense of humor.

Add those precepts to the sensibilities the  Middleton clan - commoners - exhibited through the wedding of Prince Will and their daughter Kate, and I’ve got  a standard of sorts for the wedding Emily and Ryan have put into motion.

Ten years, they’ve been together, Will and Kate. Met as university students in their late teens. I don’t think  Prince William will flub a declaration of  love for his Catherine by adding ,“Whatever love means,” the way his father did with Diana, a bride just past her teens, three decades ago. Charles was twelve years her senior and had a matron-in-waiting.

 Em and Ry have clocked well over two years as a couple and were best buddies in college, four years previous.   Their devotion is palpable. Touches, glances, terms of endearment. All the makings of pre-wedding bliss.    

Chances are the Prince and his lady, officially dubbed the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge just after  the” I do-s”,  didn’t have a lot of wiggle room when it came to ritual.  They couldn’t opt to exchange vows in a sunny grove or plan to dance the night away in a dressed-up barn, the way Em and Ry are able to, as they place their “casually elegant” stamp  on their day.

But the royal pair did pop a couple of accent pillows on the classic couch of their nuptials. A few hours after the traditional procession and recession, carriage ride, balcony smooch, and military plane salute, the pair emerged, zipping around the royal courtyard in the elder Charles'  convertible Aston Martin. Multicolored ribbons stretched across the hood., or as they say in ol' England - the bonnet. Tin cans dragged in the rears, behind a license that read JUST WED. I’m thinking that could give Ryan – a fireman – some ideas about a ladder truck!

 Grins flashed amid the formal bows and curtsies of the royals’ day.  Young Prince Harry called his bro Dude in place of Duke. I can only imagine how Ryan’s brother Matt will lighten up the ceremony and celebration with a remark or two directed at the groom.  A corny reference to the honeymoon as the holiday Ryan will take -  before he begins to work for a new boss, perhaps.  And Matt’s twins – the two-year-old flower girls – are bound to amuse by means of their seriousness the way the Duke’s godchild evoked laughs in London. A comic touch that emerged out of the drama of a toddler covering her ears at the sound of millions of hands clapping.

Love, ceremony, and smiles shaped the Duke and Duchess’ day –a royal model for us Yanks for sure.

Saying Yes to the Dress(es)

As of today two bridesmaids have ordered their dresses, the mothers of the bride and groom have chosen the COLORS of their dresses (guess what each of us is trying to do before we actually shop?). And with six months to go, the bride will have her last fitting this week.

Yep, much of the fuss of this blessed event is about THE DRESS and a bit of the rest of the to-do focuses on the other dresses.  Sorry guys. All eyes will be on the ladies. Tuxes enhance masculine lines just fine. But a dress is all about curves, tucks and puffs that turn a bride into a princess and her best buds into her stately court.  And though I’m sworn to secrecy about the details, trust me - THE DRESS is perfect for THE BRIDE, as it should be, as was mine in the eighties and my mother’s in the forties.

My mother looked so extraordinary in her gown a New York artist, who was a family friend, painted her portrait from her wedding photo. In the actual painting white pigment (stroked and dotted over pink and gray oils) replicates the dainty patterns of lace on the soft, deeply scooped neckline of her gown. Just above the lace, see-through toile rises to her neck. Like so  ------------------->   
In photographs from her wedding day she appears sensuous from afar, more demure up close.  

In the initial emotional rush of Emily’s engagement, almost two years ago, we dug deep into my closet and pulled out the long puffy garment bag that stored my wedding gown. Inside, the dress had remained brilliantly white and kept its sparkle around its Queen Anne neckline and jeweled lace cuffs. We did find a  single age spot on the train, a flaw that a dressmaker could easily remedy.

When Em put on my wedding dress, it fit her just as perfectly as it once had fit me. With her long hair pulled back and Ryan by her side, she could look exactly as off-the-chart happy as I looked beside my handsome groom - on her wedding day.

But wait, that was MY wedding day. And though we giggled and sighed and hugged and cried at the sight of Em in my gown, I think we both knew we’d eventually pass by a bridal shop and say,” Let’s go in.”  She'd try on one or two or three or more and, on another day, in another shop, she'd try on another and know, “This is the one.” The one which, with the right snip here and tuck there, would complement her curves perfectly - and even more noticeably, light up her face. The ONE that you won’t see until her walk down a grassy aisle, in a bit more than six months.

What will become of the mother-of-the-bride?

 I will go to bed  October 7, 2011 the Mother-of-the-Bride- to-be, and I will wake up the next  morning  about to become a cultural anomaly. Between  the time I  slip out from layers of crisp sheets on Emily and Ryan’s wedding day,   to the time I slip  back under them ( I expect no less than twenty hours later) I will add yet  another chapeau to my hat rack of kinships.  I will don the millinery of a MOTHER-IN-LAW.  A Pill Box, I suppose, by  society’s expectation.

If  you’re my age, the word incites an ear-jerk reaction, right to the sound of  “mother-in-law” being crooned  in  a deep  baritone  and then echoed  in a slightly higher range,. That's the way Ernie K-Doe performed it with  back-up singer  Benny Spellman in 1961.  In May of that year “Mother-in-law” spent one week topping the Billboard magazine Hot 100 List – slipping  in between  a week  or so of Ricky Nelson’s “Travelin’ Man ”  and Del Shannon’s  month-long  reign with  "Runaway".  Yet,  just a  few  days  on the charts was all  the“Mother-in-law-ing” it took for my generation to transmute the  image of  mommies- of- the-wedded  from mother hens  to clay pigeons.

How could they not become the immediate target of cultural derision after these cynical superlatives  - sung with gospel fervor  -  aired throughout America?

The worst person I know  (Mother-In-Law Mother-In-Law)
She worries me so  (Mother-In-Law Mother-In-Law)
If she leaves us alone we would have a happy home
Sent from down below (Mother-In-Law Mother-In-Law)

Out and out name calling ("Satan should be her name") starts the second stanza, which may have been the groove that raised Dick Clark's eyebrow . The squeaky clean Sixties King of Pop refused to play the tune on American Bandstand when the song came out in ’61.

But I can't put all the blame on Ernie. He only sang the words. New Orleans music legend Allen Toussaint penned the hateful  lyrics. Musician, composer, and producer, this icon has collaborated with everyone from Bonnie Raitt to The Rolling Stones, Lee Dorsey, The Pointer Sisters and Glen Campbell. But, apparently Toussiant has never been in cahoots with the mother of a wife – or a wife - for that matter. (for there are no references in career biographies to him ever being married).

Not so with Ernie – who was the marrying kind twice, according to record. Not much is said about his first marriage. But, after a decade or two of down and out years, he met Antoinette Fox, a K-Doe fan who managed a bar in New Orleans,where he spent time. She got K-Doe back onstage and, in 1996, down the aisle. By then the couple had reopened a rundown club as the Ernie K-Doe Mother-in-Law Lounge, and it quickly caught on with K-Doe’s fans, especially when he began performing.  As an added flourish, K-Doe’s new mother-in -law would appear onstage while he sang his signature song.

Pretty nice of the song’s incendiary namesake, wouldn’t you say?