I am beyond fortunate to have two amazingly fantabulous daughters. One looks like a supermodel and one a fairy princess. Our supermodel married her soul mate several years ago, and they have hatched a perfectly wonderfully perfect grandson for spouse and me. Our fairy princess became engaged a year ago, and has just married her soul mate at a destination wedding. Could it have been more wonderful? Not in any way, shape, or form.
The wedding weekend began with spouse and me packing up the car with everything we might need for five days of non-stop fun. Thanks to weather.com, we knew it was going to rain for the next five days, possibly even indoors. We bought golf umbrellas that coordinated with the bridesmaids’ gowns and the men’s tuxes in case there were outside wedding photos in the pouring rain. I decided not to think about how the ten people in the bridal party were all going to fit under two umbrellas.
And in case the sun managed to break through, we had to pack appropriate clothes for hot, dry weather. Months ago I had decided that all I would need for luggage for the big weekend was the David’s Bridal bag with my gown (from Nordstroms.com), pouffy slip, silver shoes and purse, and a few clothes that would hang in a garment bag. Maybe bring a small bag with unmentionables and a few toiletries. Somehow that morphed into my biggest suitcase and three tote bags. Plus the garment bag. Spouse managed to control his packing, only bringing enough clothes for two weeks in the sun, rain, hurricane, or typhoon.
We set off early on Thursday morning, and soon were engulfed in monsoon-type weather. Rain-X saved us from disaster yet again, and we barely needed to use the windshield wipers, as long as we maintained a speed of approximately 63.5 mph or greater. Those that weren’t using Rain-X were either wipering at top speed, slowing to 30 mph, or pulling over. We passed in and out of that, and once we reached somewhere in New Jersey, were rewarded with a rainbow of first-rate clarity. We considered it a good omen. After a 7.5 hour trip, including a stop to pick up the tux, complete with patent leather (or plastic, according to spouse) shoes, we arrived, bag and baggage, and checked into the sparkly clean and new Fairfield Inn in Kennett Square. We took some deep breaths of the fresh air, and were nearly bowled over by the fragrance. Kennett Square is the mushroom capital of the world, and you know with what they are fertilized. To top it all off, this weekend was the annual Mushroom Festival; road closures, traffic, block parties. Perhaps extra fertilizer judging by the air quality.
Daughter and her spouse to be (the Fairy Princess and her Prince Charming) took us to dinner and we discussed The Big Day extensively. It was a good time, and full-blown nerves had not yet settled in. One doesn’t have to be the bride to be a little weak-kneed. In the middle of the night (if you sleep from dusk to dawn), (supermodel) daughter, her spouse, and little Rooster arrived at the hotel. We were fortunate enough to coordinate our breakfast time with theirs and got in some precious visit time.
For spouse and me, Friday was mostly spent driving around lost, stymied by the one way streets, road closures, and just plain not knowing where the heck we were going. If we didn’t have Susie, our GPS, we’d still be driving around lost in Kennett Square. Even she was confused at times, and not because of the road closures. Twice she sent us one direction, then changed her mind after we had started out, and sent us in the reverse direction.
Friday night was the rehearsal in the heart of Wilmington. Spouse and I are country mice, but we did our best to drive into the city following Susie’s directions, and park somewhere near a curb on the side street. The rehearsal went well, and I felt sure that I had memorized everything Father Joe said, would be ready to take charge on the following day, and send everyone up the aisle at the right times. We then went out for a lovely dinner of Italian deliciousness, complete with a heart-warming toast by daughter’s spouse to be, and got back to our room by 10:30 pm.
At 7:15 am on Saturday, 9/10/11, the sunniest day we could have hoped for, both daughters and I were off to have hair and makeup done at Maureen’s Spa. We emerged 90 minutes later, my daughters looking stunning. It was a very proud moment for me, another in a lifelong string of proud moments. Modesty forbids a comment on my own appearance, but a male customer in the spa told me that I looked like Bea Arthur. A young Bea Arthur. Thank. You. So. Much.
We cruised by the home that daughter and spouse to be are buying, and it was a fun time. Stopping off at the local Wal-Mart made it even more special. In we traipsed, fairy princess daughter in her radiance and tiara, supermodel daughter, and the MOB, all in full makeup and quarts of hairspray, wearing button-down tops for easy removal without mussing the ‘do. It is quite possible that the clientele has not ever seen a tiara-wearing princess shopping for lip gloss, if the glances coming daughter’s way were any indication.
Back at the hotel, all gowned, pouffy slipped, and silver sandalled, not to mention tiarad, daughter truly looked like a fairy princess bride. The bridesmaids were lovely in their apple colored gowns, each a different style, and the combined pulchritude was nearly bursting the room. Luckily the limo for the girls arrived at 1:15, and the procession to the lobby began. Into the limo the girls carried their flowers, skirts, and slight nervousness, and they set off, spouse and I following with a few tears in our eyes. The ride to the church was along beautiful country roads, and we passed the A.I. Dupont Middle School which had a grandeur to equal a Newport mansion. I wanted to live in it. 
We lost sight of the limo after a few miles of back roads, but somehow managed to get in front of them, all of us arriving with 15 minutes to spare. The limo driver learned that the men’s limo had not yet arrived, so the girls all stayed in theirs. Father Joe came to the back of the church where parents and grandparent, daughter’s spouse and little Rooster, all lingered, awaiting The Men. At 2:00 the church bells pealed overhead, startling us. Late arriving guests learned to their delight that they were still in time. Eventually, at 2:10 ish, The Men arrived. Our relief was so great that no one asked why they were late. That was to come out the day after the wedding day. Boutonnières were hastily pinned on, the men walked quickly to the front of the church along the side aisle, the girls were waved in from the limo to the back of the church, and then I realized that I had forgotten everything from the rehearsal. I asked Jim, the husband of a bridesmaid, to whom I had not actually been introduced, “WHO GOES FIRST??? WHEN ARE THEY SUPPOSED TO GO???”
This was when the serious consequences of not taking my Gingko Biloba for the past two days became evident. Father Joe was at the front of the church, standing patiently by the altar, too far away to interpret frantic hand signals. Didn’t he understand that I had ADHDWD (Attention Deficit High Def Wedding Disorder) ??? We as a group somehow decided that it should be my mother, the grandmother of the bride, who should be walked down by her grandson-in-law and great-grandson. Son-in-law, husband to supermodel daughter, was looking handsome in his pin-striped suit, and little Rooster was a picture in his Fedora, with his head just peeking out of the carrier strapped to his father’s chest. I knew even if he howled his way down the aisle while escorting his great-grandmother, it would have added a wonderful element to the proceedings. Rooster behaved perfectly and did not make a peep (too bad!). Next down the aisle went the parents of the groom, and then the bridesmaids. (Or was it the other way around? I’ll have to wait for the photos to be sure.)
Then it was time to listen for the Wedding March, our cue to escort our beautiful daughter to her waiting husband. There it was, and there we went. Every smiling face was turned toward the vision in ivory floating down the aisle, and spouse and I did our best to smile at everyone and not to step on the bride’s train. Spouse was more successful. Once we reached the smiling groom, spouse and I each gave our daughter a kiss on the cheek, spouse shook the groom’s hand, I kissed the groom, and spouse and I sat down, our parts finished. There was singing, laughing, smiling, hand-holding, and a few moist eyes. Once I glanced at spouse, who appeared to be teary-eyed, and I quickly looked away. Waterproof mascara or not, I didn’t want to give it a test run and everyone knows how contagious wedding tears are. After a beautiful ceremony, Mr. and Mrs. Happily Ever After were applauded and then walked back up the aisle, ready for anything now that the hard part was over. Rooster slept through most of the wedding, woken by the final musical crescendo and not really sure if he was happy about it.
After the guests (with the exception of our family members greeting Rooster) had walked out into the sunshine, it was time for church photos of the bridal party. Then it was limo time, and off to Valley Garden Park for some outdoor photos. The day could not have been prettier, the photographers clicked hundreds of shots, maybe millions, and soon it was time to head to the reception. Rooster reached his point of quite enough, and daughter and spouse and the little guy got an early start back.
At the reception, the guests were waiting patiently at their tables for the bridal party, and the extraordinary staff at the Red Clay Room coached us on where and when to walk in. We got through that without tripping and falling, and then the party was on. Dinner, dancing, photos, cake, meeting and greeting, laughing and talking, fun, fun, fun, and all of a sudden it was over.
Now spouse and I wait for another indescribably wonderful grandchild. No pressure. But stay tuned.
