Yes, to the Dress: MOG Edition

    Shopping for wedding dresses is a lot of fun. At least it is as the Mother of the Groom. My job is to sip champagne and admire the beauty of my son’s Beloved.

     This is not a hard job, because champagne is delightful and all my sons’ beloveds are as well. I would just like to point out here that if I had mis-punctuated the following plural possessive---instead of being inclusive of all of my daughters-in-law, I would have been leading you to believe that you were about to get a heads-up on the next season of The Bachelor Meets The Real Housewives of the ELC, Super Hair-Pulling Edition. Thankfully, this is not the case. Punctuation is important. Please use it responsibly.

    Mother-of-the-Groom (MOG) is a mostly ceremonial position. MOG advice on the internet usually boils down to “wear beige and keep your mouth shut.” That is excellent advice, probably, but I usually wear blue and make jokes. So far, it’s worked out for me. Perhaps because my sons have done such a lovely job of picking women of grace and tolerance, perhaps because my jokes are really funny. It’s likely both.

    Shopping for my MOG dress is fun but includes less bubbly. I’m not sure why this is so. I will ask the MOBs if this has also been their experience. Perhaps we will start a petition to get this to change.

   As MOG, my negotiated contribution to the wedding of the happy couple is to provide both the florals and the very talented—and highly susceptible to blackmail—floral designer. All I’m going to say about that is there was a very good reason why I keep all those notes back in high school. So far, they’ve saved me about $6k. Minus the fireproof safety deposit box fee, of course.

     I also provide the libations on the Happy Occasion, so I feel that I have contributed to the happiness of all. That fact that I can also add to the contents of my safety deposit box is purely serendipitous, I assure you.

Please enjoy these gratuitous wedding pictures
Circa 1986 Sue & Shane

Mother of Dragons

I am the mother of boys.

I have very little experience with girls—other than my own distant memory as a girl of being told to pull up my knee socks and to comb my hair. SPOILER ALERT—as an adult I solved those two problems by no longer wearing knee socks and... come to think of it, I still need to comb my hair, but that is not my point.

My point is that put in my time in the Boy Trenches of parenthood—where prom dresses and princess hair weren’t really a thing we did. We did lots of mud and motorbikes and rolling around on the ground. Eventually, my boys have all grown up to be men, realized that girls don’t actually have cooties and have fallen in love.

 I really enjoying having these girls—women-- in my life. And while we don’t go prom dress shopping together—apparently there aren’t a lot of Adult Proms—they have each graciously invited me to go bridal gown shopping.

Bridal gown shopping is THE BEST SHOPPING. And I’m not just saying that because of the mimosas. Although mimosas are delightful, I’m not gonna lie. Bridal gown shopping always entails brunch and the entire reason for brunch is not to have a mix of breakfast and lunch foods as I once believed, but to have a boozy breakfast/lunch with out the “is it five o’clock somewhere” guilts. Add a wee splash of juice to champagne, call the meal “brunch,” and celebrate at will. Being a girl is awesome! Who knew?

After brunch we head to the first of two bridal shops—always conveniently located within walking distance. So consistently convenient that I wonder-- which came first, the bridal shop or the brunch spot? “Gee, I’d really like to open a Bridal Boutique on this block but there are no brunch places nearby. Sad.”

Without fail, we never find The Dress at the first shop. It is entirely possible that we are only at this first shop to kill time while we sober up before driving to the next shop where we will find The Dress of her Dreams.