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My darling daughter #1, Holly, just recently announced her
engagement to her darling Ben. With much relief, because he asked our
permission for her hand in marriage back in November, we celebrated the
happy news. Seriously, I could not be happier. Ben is everything that
is right for my daughter. He adores her. He has survived her crazy,
functionally dysfunctional extended family at holiday gatherings and a family wedding with an
open bar. He adores Holly's daughter so much that he also asked for
permission to adopt Holly's daughter. He likes my cooking and is
begging me to please share with Holly my "secret recipes". I have
agreed and will show her how to open up a box of Hamburger Helper and
add extras. But all in due time because we have a wedding to plan.

 The
tentative date is to be April 2011 because as my daughter put it, "it
won't be hotter than balls then!" She's classy like that and yes, I
couldn't be prouder. My sister in law, a wedding planner, is offering
her services gratis so thankfully I am off the hook in helping with the
planning of the beautiful wedding on a shoestring. Thank goodness. I
have to confess that even with my own wedding twenty-six years ago I
had no clue how to pull off a wedding. Thank goodness for good friends
and future in laws. 

So now we can get down to the really
important stuff. Holly has decided her colors and is working with her
friends who will be the wedding party for what they will wear. She is
also 90% certain of what the dress that she will wear is. It's a good
thing that she has all of that taken care of so that we can now focus
on the most important part of her day...after the vows she will
exchange with Ben...after how gorgeous she will be so that no one can
take their eyes off of her...what is her mother going to wear?

She
brings over bridal guides, magazines and catalogues that she has
managed to gather in a very short time and begins to earnestly share
with me her top five favorites:

She
is imagining navy, one of her colors, but she wants me to be set apart
from her bridesmaids because I am her mom so an irridescent navy that
"shimmers and changes colors as the light strikes it" with a brocade
bolero to wear over the dress.

"A bolero?", I squeak. OMG!
She is getting back at me for every time I dressed her funny on purpose
back when she was just a munchkin desperate to break away from normal
preschool "isn't she adorable" fashion. I gulp. I take a deep
breath as I try to figure out a way to be diplomatic as opposed to
being the Mother of the bridezilla.

Damn! This is hard!

It
is then that my beautiful, darling, evil daughter begins to laugh
hysterically. "Oh my God, Mom. You are not wearing any of those
dresses! I want you to wear something pretty with my colors that you
look good in."

"No boleros?", I ask weakly.

"No boleros, please, no boleros!", she laughs.

Thank
goodness I don't have to wear a shimmery or brocaded bolero....why the
heck does the mother of the bride have to wear a bolero anyway? I have
time, plenty of time, to find the perfect dress to make my soon to be
not-so-blushing bride proud and I promise you there will not be any
shimmery, brocade-y boleros involved.