Wednesday, August 17, 2005

I have learned...

...that even at 40, when you believe that you are planning the simplest of weddings, that family tends to get too involved. Or, rather, the Matriarchs tend to get too involved.
I totally recognize that they are trying to help, or mean well, but honestly...I'm wishing that they would butt out and let me do things my way.
Greg's mom Denise (Can I nickname her TwoFour?) is still trying to make up for her lack of enthusiasm of when we initially told her our news. Really, I KNOW that she is happy, she just has a weird way of showing it. I don't think she needs to re-tell the conversation at half hour intervals to anyone in the park who will listen.

Greg's Step-mom (I will call he MIL2) has also meant well, but for some god-only-knows reason has us travelling out of Buffalo, transfering in Timbucktoo and arriving in Las Vegas 9 hours later. She is a travel agent, but apparently did not have access to where we could have had flights out of Toronto direct to LV. When I asked her about it today (very diplomatically, because I didn't want to cause any problems) It. Became. A. Problem.
So, when I thought I got everything sorted out with her, and told her "No, everything really IS OK, don't worry about it, I'm sorry I brought it up, please don't do anything more, everything is ok, what's done is done, please, I'm grateful Blah-dee-blah-blah-blah" she then called Greg, who then called me at work, and we very nearly got into our second fight ever. I told him the above conversation, told him to call MIL2 back and let her know that everything was a communication problem and that "blah-dee-blah-blah-blah we were ecstatic with the plans and not to change a thing."

Do you really want to know about the issues I'm having with my mother? I will call her PA. Passive Aggressive.
She is upset because I did not ask her to come Wedding Dress shopping with me. OK. First of all, I would rather set myself on fire than go shopping with my mom. Yes...I would rather pour gasoline all over myself and with a Welder's Flame, set myself on fire...than go shopping with my mom. Apparently, and I did not know this, it is an unwritten, traditional, set in stone, never to be broken rule that brides go dress shopping with their mothers. My grandmother went to the dressmaker with my mother, and my mom is CERTAIN that she is the only mother IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD who was not present when her only daughter went shopping for a wedding dress! I bought the second dress I tried on, and I am thrilled with it. I can only imagine the frumpy frock my mother would have wanted me to wear. (Because I'm 40, and not a young girl anymore, don'chya'know) So then she tell me that I am making her feel like she is Just a Guest at my wedding. Well. I asked her two weeks ago if she would do me the honour of walking me down the aisle. She said "No, that's a man's job...shouldn't you ask your brother?" Was I upset? You betcha. But then, my mom is Just a Guest. I've gone and gotten myself started again.

I'm going to stop. Before I start foaming at the mouth.

1 comment:

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