Here comes the bride . . . and her incredibly anxious mother
Weddings are a lot of work, and the bride-to-be isn’t the only one who’s stressing before the big day
According to the online literature — and I use the word advisedly — this is a “momentous” time in my life. I am the Mother of the Bride, and my first question is, why are these words capitalized?
My second question is, am I the only one going through severe mood swings? One minute I am jubilant and teary as I look forward to my daughter’s wedding, taking place in a charming manor (white birdcages, old stone walls, a glimpse of the Normandy coast) in the French countryside. Oooh, sigh all the well-wishers; “You’re so lucky.”
The next minute I am an anxious mess, fretting about details — none of which I have any control over — and trying not to spark a longdistance spat with a 28-year-old sophisticated (and now, after five years abroad, quite French) young woman who used to be the little girl who curled up in bed with me and told me all her dreams.
She never imagined she would fall in love with a lovely Frenchman whose family has made her feel so welcome. I never imagined that one day, in my imperfect French, I would be debating the length of the cocktail hour with her father-in-law to be, trying to let him know that deux heures pour le cocktail could be trop longue pour le Canadien. I lost that one.
These may be our details, but the mood swings for the Mother of the Bride (MOB) are universal. Luckily I have a posse of MOB friends. We say astonishing things to each other, only half in jest.
“The groom’s mother is younger. Should I get work done?”
“As my sister-in law once said, I’m going to be wearing so much Spanx it will push all the fat up and give me a goiter.”
“What if my family thinks our wedding is cheesy?”
Formerly self-confidant professional women, we wrestle awkwardly with a role whose import has changed. A mother’s duty, like the hysterical Mrs. Bennet in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, used to be to marry her daughters off and plan their weddings.
Now, when other kinds of unions exist (and good men are hard to find) marriage is, thankfully, not the only prized destination for a young, ambitious woman.
Many forgo it altogether. And those couples who do marry plan their own weddings. (I do still hear of affluent, busy brides who say to their mothers, “Just tell me when to show up,” but those mothers are not happy; too much work!)
I stand in solidarity with all MOBs. A cashier at Sobey’s and I discover our daughters are getting married, and we’ve held up lines to discuss the cost of wedding dresses.
A florist in my neighbourhood who made me a gorgeous bouquet — all white hydrangeas and roses — for my daughter’s shower reveals her daughter is getting married in Normandy, too. What are the chances? I got a deal on the flowers and, while she doesn’t know it yet, I’ve bought her a white linen hanky for her big day. We’ll cry in solidarity.
One of my closest friends and I — weddings a month or so apart — go outfit shopping.
We end up at a formal-wear emporium stuffed with enough sequins, ruched gowns and bustiers to open a show in Vegas. We cower in a dressing room, me decked out in flowing chiffon, she murmuring, “this could work.”
Suddenly we hear an ungodly wail. Another MOB, trussed up in an evening dress so tight you’d have to be Sandra Bullock to pull it off, is sobbing because, our saleswoman told us, “she feels she’s too large.”
I wanted to hug her and tell her to find a simple, elegant and comfortable outfit. My friend got her dress online, I found my outfit in a regular store and I love it. Mothers of the bride: don’t try to be someone else on your daughter’s big day, just be your best self(ie). Of course there is too much emphasis on looks, but that is the problem with modernday weddings (and modern-day women).
Weddings are all about production values, and the pressure to look perfect has never been greater. Gloria Steinem would rip off my feminist epaulettes.
“Can a Mother of the Bride be sizzlingly sexy on her daughter’s big day?” asks someone online. Let me get that. No! Leave your cleavage inside your dress. Let your daughter shine. Focus on keeping your daughter calm and confident. I sent mine a note pleading with her not to worry about perfection: “Be thrilled with how you look — that will affect everyone.
“It already does. People talk to me about your glow, how you light up a room. That is what you want them to remember on your wedding day — how happy you were, how deeply you glowed, how lovely your smile was.” My MOB friends and I agree we have learned a most-valuable lesson: when your daughter asks for your opinion, pretend the future of the Middle East depends on your reply.
As for me, I am clinging to the words of my friend Sarah, who has exquisitely performed her role — twice — and wrote me this:
“I was surprised and moved when I awoke in the middle of the night before my daughter’s wedding to a profound and exhilarating awareness of the deeply sacred aspect of a wedding. I experienced a moment of ineffable wonder which reminded me of how I felt after my first daughter’s birth.”
What could be better — or truer — than that? Judith Timson writes weekly about cultural, social and political issues. Reach her at judith.timson@sympatico.ca and follow her on Twitter @judithtimson.