As most of you know, I just got back from my two part adventure to Atlanta. The catalyst for me going was to support my girl for her wedding. Armed with a new hot pink dress and some fabulous new shoes, I made my way to the east coast. No one told me that this whole experience would be all about mothers. Let me explain:
First of all there was the obvious stress of me seeing my own mother for the first time in four years. I have been trying to get over my dreams of what I wanted my mom to be like and to just embrace her for what she is able to give. This didn't happen until the end of my trip, but I did manage to find some peace. See, nothing had changed. Even though she hadn't seen me in four years and I had stopped communication with her for around eight months, she still was wrapped up in the drama of my other sister. It was actually a mental sigh of relief to me that I had made the right decision last October. My favorite part of the trip was spending time with my Grandma. She and I stayed up to 1:30 in the morning every night I was there talking about life, motherhood, God and food. It doesn't get much better than that. She hugged me and we cried together while she told me that she would show me the love that my mom just isn't able to show. I told her that I had felt so lost these past months, but now I feel totally anchored. Amazing.
The next part of my story involves a very particular bride, a totally obtuse mother, and a kick ass group of bridesmaids. You see, Julie is a worse "type A" personality than I am. If you talk to my husband, he will tell you that there is no way. Oh yes. Way. I've never seen someone return a pancake for being "too crunchy" or a fried egg for being "too greasy". You gotta know Julie to appreciate this.
That being said, Julie is going through the same journey that I went through with my mom, except Julie's mom is a recovering alcoholic. It breaks my heart to see Julie continue to bless her mom with the hope of a child, only to have her heart broken with disappointment. When most girls dream of their wedding day, the mother is part of that dream. You imagine the loving tears in her eyes when she sees you in that perfect wedding dress (Julie's dress was a total dream), she talks you off the ledge when you start getting a bit bridezilla (all us married girls have been there), and she is your "go to" girl for hugs, support, and all those details that you won't really give a fig about in five years anyway. The mother of the bride is supposed to smile, indulge, and quietly share in your happiest day. Julie's mom did none of this. In fact, the only thing I saw her do was push Julie so far to the edge that the poor girl was thrown into a fit of nausea an hour before her wedding. This of course was cured by me in the only fashion I knew how: A nurse story about someone being sprayed by poop when a patient sneezed. I'm not kidding. Not only did it cure her nausea and make her laugh, all those sweet bridesmaids I just met probably think I'm one of the grossest Barbie looking person they have ever met. Nurse Barbie is usually in a skirt and holding a baby, not in a hazmat outfit covered in poop.
I could tell by Julie's venting and the countless other stories she had regaled to us that she had been awakened from her "perfect mother" dream because of her wedding. I totally know where she is coming from and like I said, it really breaks my heart. Her wedding was the most memorable wedding that I have attended by far, but when it was over and we were packing up the wedding carnage, I hugged her and let her know "this is what family is about".
Family are the people who tell you poop stories to make you laugh, make you eat when you are stressed, gladly spend a small fortune to take part in your beautiful day, offer a getaway car (long story) if you need it, support all of your decisions, erase pictures of you that are unflattering, steal your cell phone so you won't take another call from your mother, and finally who all sing at your wedding when the power goes out so you and your husband can have that special dance together. That is what family is all about.
This trip made me think a lot about the kind of mother I am, and I decided that I am doing a pretty damn good job. Someday that will be Natalia sitting in the bride room, freaking out and about to get dressed into her confection of a bridal gown. I will keep my poop story ready if she needs it because it really is a funny story, I will hire someone to run around like a crazy person so I can be there with her and take it all in, I will offer her a getaway car if she needs it, I will quietly stand in the background and thank God for such a beautiful little girl. Most of all, I will never give anyone the need to tell Natalia that they will stand in my stead to love and cherish her because I am incapable. There isn't a pack of wild bridezillas that could keep me away.
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