I don’t know how my son’s wedding went by in such a blur. Maybe the video will show what the heck I was doing the whole night. Actually, I know I was dancing. Seems I was either being pulled up on the dance floor by someone or I just had to dance to just one more song. In doing this, I neglected my guests and was never a proper hostess. I think I only got to a few tables and only for a few minutes each. I never got to tables where my dearest friends were sitting who held my hand through all the cRaZy -sTrEsSful wedding planning. I never got to tables where my friends and relatives who had travelled far sat. I never got to lots of tables.
What I learned from this is that after all that planning, I should have stayed in planning mode and your hair can’t come down until it’s really over the next day. Thank you, everyone for coming…
The Dancing Queen
I now know I would never make it as a wedding planner. Though everything seemed to go off without a hitch at my son’s wedding last night. The priest gave a great homily, though he didn’t talk about what a great mom I am like I told him to. Photos were taken, speeches were made, laughs were had, and most importantly, my son and new daughter-in law had picked my favorite song, “Dancing Queen” for the official Mother/Son dance!
Thank you too all my friends who held my hand throughout all the planning stress!
I would have loved to have talked to my son, but I’m trying to stay out of his face. So no contact. We finished the seating arrangements. We pearlized the church programs. We ribboned the bubbles. I think we are all set.
But as I lay here next to snoreboy, I am so sad I haven’t talked to my boy today on the phone. I suppose I will tomorrow at some small point before the wedding, but I can foresee everyone yelling at me to get back into my place and telling me to sit the hell down. So I don’t know if my last hug before he’s a wedded man will happen.
I tell you, nobody is going to get in the way of me and my son before the ceremony. Afterwards is a different story, he will no longer be mine.
Someone gave me a gift as the mother-of-the-groom of eyelash extensions. I was told not to get them wet for 48 hours. Don’t anyone ever call me vain.
My Italian sister, Cindy, dropped these off to me today,
Packet of Kleenex: for tears of joy
Packet of Safety Pins: necessity
Packet of Tic Tacs: here, please have a mint before we continue our conversation
Sewing Kit: Emergency repair kit
Bottle of Tylenol: Someone will ask
Floss: Someone will ask, “Is there anything in my teeth?”
Bandaids: Boo boos may happen
Tiara: In case someone needs to be reminded who you are
Deodorant: We dont’ want a stinky dancing queens
Small bottle of vodka: No explanation needed