Whenever people would tell me that they had an extravagant wedding because their parents wanted them to I would scoff. My parents would never try to make me have something I didn’t want! Mumsy has told me horror stories about how her parents forced her into something super traditional and expensive since they were paying for it (probably why my dad chose a powder blue tux for himself and orange for his groomsmen… and I wonder where I get my oppositional streak), so I knew they’d be happy to let us plan whatever we like.
Until the other night, when I called my mom to discuss, for the very first time, anything even remotely wedding-like. These are the actual things she said to me in the 10 minutes I could stand to stay on the phone:
- You want to have it in Connecticut? Who do you think is going to come to that?
- You’re thinking July? Why, so we can all sweat to death?
- Who’s paying for this?
- Ok, let me look at some of the ideas you posted on Pinterest: the photobooth idea is stupid, absolutely not to those centerpieces, mason jars are redneck, hate that, hate that, hate that, that dress wouldn’t look good on you, no, no, no.
- YOU DON’T WANT A CAKE?!
Even though I was just discussing possibilities, things Jay and I have talked about, her rudeness made that hereditary oppositional streak come out in full force. I was very close to ordering everything she hated just to spite her, but managed to hold back. Instead, I said: “Good thing you’re not planning the wedding, then. We’re going to pick what we want, and we like all those ideas, and you’re being rude.” Didn’t faze her at all. She insisted that she absolutely does get to plan part of the wedding, and when I insisted just as hard that she didn’t she plaintively asked, “What do I get to pick, then?” I told her she could pick where she was sitting.
Needless to say, the conversation did not end well. I was mostly bewildered by her attitude, but also overwhelmed with angry and disappointed feelings. I know she’s probably stressed about things like money and time and she’s just not great at expressing her anxieties, but damn, Mumsy. Jay seems to think she’ll come around eventually. That would be really nice, of course, but if she doesn’t, maybe I’ll just have to remind her that her wedding ending with people getting so drunk they stole cars out of the parking lot and crashed them, and ate bowls of hummus using rolled up dollar bills as bread.
**Update: She texted me to say she gave herself an attitude adjustment about the whole thing. Not an apology, but something at least? Unfortunately we talked on the phone after that, which ended with actual tears on her part when I said I was thinking about hiring an ice cream truck. I think she’s going to have a really hard time with this process. Pull it together, Mumsy Lou!