Ready for this? Okay, here's mother-partying-like-a-rockstar story number one!
(I'm feeling a reality-TV logo vibe tonight)
For the wedding of our college friends Annie and Scott, the Husband and I had the honors of serving as Best Man and Bridesmaid, respectively. We arrived in Scott's hometown the day before the wedding, ready to bring the party. Little did we know that it had already been brought.
The rehearsal went well, and it was followed by a delicious, fantastic dinner, during which we got to know the other members of the wedding party better. Afterwards was when things got hot and fancy.
The groomsmen and bridesmaids had every intention of holding separate bachelor/bachelorette festivities. The Maid of Honor and I ran out to Wal-Mart to stock up on Buttershots and Sour Apple Pucker, while the Husband spearheaded the purchase of a large quantity of beer. However, our wedding party was made up largely of a group of mutual friends, so it didn't take long for us to combine our
alcohol stores parties. After a foray to Bennigan's for deep-fried deliciousness and some preliminary drinks, we returned to the hotel.
"Which room should we hang out in?" We wondered. Our decision was quickly made, as the Mother-of-the Bride and family invited us into their swanky suite.
I know what you might be thinking. "Srsly? Hanging with the bride's parents? The night before the wedding? That's 'square' squared!"
(h/o, just blew my mind a little with the thought of "square" squared. Whew. okay.)
Here's the thing. Annie's family is from Wisconsin, where alcohol is as much a part of the culture as it is a method for surviving the winter. Her parents currently live in Alaska, where there is little else to do besides
spy on the Russians go fishing star in Sarah Palin's Alaska count write-in ballots imbibe.
So commenced the libations. We played games, sang songs, and took shots. By "we" I mean the bride and groom, the bride's and groom's friends, and the bride's extended family. This began around 11pm.
By about 2am, only the stoic remained: Annie, Scott, Annie's parents, a few out-of-town friends, the Husband, and me. The Sour Apple and Buttershots were gone. The beer was mostly gone. Bottles of vodka and rum -- scant to gone. Annie's parents' mini-fridge full of beer... pretty much empty. My head was rather spinny, but mostly I was just inordinately sleepy. As my eyes started to flutter closed for the umpteenth time, yet another shot glass was pushed into my hand.
"What is this?" I murmured.
"Tequila!" Annie's mom said brightly.
I pulled my heavy eyelids open. I had watched this woman consume enough alcohol to put a freshman boys' dormitory to shame. How could she possibly still be conscious, let alone... perky?
"I think I'm done," I croaked. With a weak smile, I set down the shot glass and tottered across the hall to my room. The Husband shortly thereafter followed suit.
The next thing I knew, it was the morning of the wedding. I rolled out of bed feeling like I hadn't slept at all, and I staggered into the bathroom, realizing as I painfully blinked that I had slept with my contacts in.
Somehow, I managed to shower, get dressed, and brew a cup of coffee. The Maid of Honor picked me up for our hair appointment, after which I bumped into the Mother of the Bride in the hotel lobby.
"How're you doing?" She greeted me. To look at her, you would have thought she had gotten ten hours of beauty sleep and been awakened by chirping birds and Disney mice. I, on the other hand, looked like a dehydrated cave-troll with puffy eyes and immaculately-coiffed hair.
"Fine, thanks," I managed to say. She smiled a wise smile and patted my shoulder.
"Better wake up," she said, "because the real party starts tonight!"
Aaaaand here's mother-partying-like-a-rockstar story number two!
A mere week after the festivities of Annie and Scott's nuptuals, our friends Jillian and Rob held their wedding in the panhandle of Florida (it was a busy wedding summer). The nice thing about this wedding in particular was that the bride and groom were high school friends of the Husband, and his whole family was invited: mother, father, and sister. And me.
The wedding was a perfect fit for the happy couple. The beautiful old church was stuffed to the gills with well-wishers, and the altar was crowded with blushing bridesmaids and genteel groomsmen. Then the party really started. The reception was held in a local hotel, with a fantastic set-up for buffets, chatting tables, and plenty of dancing.
Here was the thing about the dancing, though. I really, really like to dance, even though I vaguely resemble a flying spaghetti monster when I attempt anything more complex than the Cha-Cha Slide. The Husband does not like to dance. He takes after his father in that regard. However, his mother DOES like to dance, and the Husband had promised her (grudgingly, good-naturedly) that he would dance with her at this reception.
Well, a couple of hours went by with minimal dancing on his part. The Sister-in-Law and I tore it UP on the dance floor (at least, we did the way I remember it), with the occasional guest appearance of the Mother-in-Law. As the night went on, though, the Husband's mother grew concerned that no more sweet, sentimental, mother-son-dance-ready songs would be played. Finally, the waiting got to be too much.
Mother-in-Law: All right, son. Next slow song is MINE!
Husband: (sighs, secretly not really minding that much) ...Fine.
Well, the next slow song came on. The Mother-in-Law triumphantly took her son's hand and led him to the dance floor for a Hallmark-memory-in-the-making. And it really was. There's just something about a guy leading his mom on the dance floor that is very sweet and human. And so glad was the Mother-in-Law to be dancing with her handsome, tuxedoed son, that she didn't even take notice of the song that was playing.
The song happened to be the Marvin Gaye classic, "Let's Get It On."
The Husband's high school guy friends latched onto this sentimental/awkward scene (awkwamental?) and responded as any good high school friends would -- with whooping laughs.
Then, however, the fellas stepped up to the plate like manly, grown-up champs. They lined up, and started cutting in on the Husband and "Mama G."
By the final round of "Nothin' wrong with love/if you want to love me/just let yourself go, oh baby," the Husband's mother had danced with no less than a half-dozen of the Husband's best friends, who had spent much of their adolescence playing Halo in her family room. And there was something very sweet and human about it all.
All right.... (rubs hands together) Here comes mother-partying-like-a-rockstar story number three!
(I didn't even have to doctor this logo! However, I'm a little depressed that this show actually exists...)
This past wedding season, the Husband and I got to attend another wedding in the Florida panhandle. We had the privilege of celebrating another duo of his high school friends, Rick and Sammie, tying the knot in a festive fashion. By this time (two years after our own wedding), I had managed to rid the Husband of some of his anti-dance tendencies.
Like so many of the weddings we have happily attended, this one was gorgeous, full of celebration, and unique to the bride and groom themselves. Additionally, this wedding had one of the most relaxed and welcoming atmospheres of any we had attended. Perhaps that (along with the open bar) was what emboldened the Husband to do what he did.
The thing you must understand about Rick's mother is that she is incredibly attractive. Also, to look at her, you would be shocked to learn that she has a marriageable-age son. As the Husband told me at some point, Rick took a fair amount of teasing for this over the years. Also, across the decade of their friendship, many teenage nights playing Halo were spent at Rick's house. Just as close as my Mother-in-Law, the beloved "Mama G," is to this group of friends, is Rick's mom. So.
Upon a slight lull on the dance floor, the DJ announced that he was taking requests... and I should cop to a smidgen of complicitness at this point. I joked to the Husband, "You should ask him to play Stacy's Mom!"
(For those of you not familiar with the one-hit wonder known as Fountains of Wayne: they wrote a ditty focused on a pubescent narrator spending time with one young Stacy, largely because he fancied her shockingly gorgeous mother. It was one of the biggest hits of 2003.)
Anyway, the Husband (flush with good cheer, good food, and Dewars & 7), took me seriously. He swaggered right up to the DJ and requested "Stacy's Mom." Then he upped the ante.
When the song began to play, the Husband located the Mother of the Groom, stunning in a sheath dress. He offered her his arm and led her onto the dance floor.
At that point, Rick mouthed to the Husband, "I HATE YOU."
And once again, the high school fellas stepped up to the plate like manly, grown-up champs (or regressed, giddy adolescents). They lined up, and started cutting in. Rick's mom was an awesome sport about it all. And by the last chorus, the groom had come around; he finished the song with his mother, to cheers and applause.
It might not have worked on a Hallmark card... but in an awkwa-mental way, it was still pretty sweet.
NEXT TIME: I will be treating you to some comical Bridesmaid Drama from my very own wedding! In the meantime.... any mother-related wedding stories you'd care to share?