It's all about the dresss.

While I began searching for caterers, my daughter's job was to find a dress. My queen of multi-tasking told me she could only tackle one wedding thing at a time and finding the right wedding dress was number one on her list. Again, via online searching, who knew there were so many shapes for a mere dress? There's the sheath, A-line, mermaid, modified mermaid, ball gown (think big pouf of organza), and probably five more I can't think of. I must preface all this with my fear and trembling of anything having to do with shopping and my daughter. Our history goes way back, way way back, to nursery school in fact. You see, I always gave her a choice - pink skirt or blue pants; sneakers or fancy shoes; dress or osh kosh by gosh? This was in reaction to my past of course. I never had a choice when I was a child, I went to Catholic school and had to wear a maroon uniform, complete with bow tie and beanie until I rebelled and went to a public high school. We parents read all the right books, but in reality, our skills are forged by our regrettable past. Invariably, my little bride-to-be would choose the swingiest skirt, twirl around, and kick up her pink patent mary janes, happy as a clam...we said that happy clam thing alot in New England. I wish I knew why clams are considered jubilant?

Fast forward to middle school and you can see where I'm going. Madonna, Pretty Woman and Dirty Dancing were all the rage. We had moved to NJ and life took a turn toward..., well, way before Jersey Shore set the new standard for immodesty, I used to say, "there's a difference my sweet girl between class and trash," at least once a day. We learned to compromise, nothing below here or above there....we struggled. And then, like a bolt of sunshine in high school, she developed her own taste, her style. And in fact it was better than mine since my style was comfort conscious without bows, laid back, loose Eileen Fisher-like before she came on the scene. Lo and behold, she became my adviser, "Mom, if you wore it in the '60s, please don't wear it now." So the long and short of it was that we had a fine, loving relationship as she sailed off to college, so long as we didn't go clothes shopping together. I know, how could such a bonding mother/daughter activity create angst? I'm trying to explain, it happens gradually, over time. Today, she has no time to shop and wears scrubs most days, and she told me she wanted me to come to Nashville and help her pick a wedding gown. I was delighted and distraught all at once.

After making the rounds of all four wedding shops with her friends, from high to low dollar, she had her ideas ready for me and I had a plane ticket. The first store was high end and they were having a sample sale at the same time, yureka! I got nostalgic when she turned in front of the mirror and kicked her heel out to fluff the train on the first gown, my little nursery school girl again. Six dresses later, we had an idea of the shape that looked best on her - modified A-line, or semi-mermaid, something like that. Now let me make this clear, if you think you will suddenly cry and swoon when the right dress appears on your child you are mistaken. My daughter has wonderful taste and an eye for beauty which goes along with her yogi-slim, 5'8" body. Absolutely everything looks better than good on her. The only time I even started to tear up is when they whipped out the veil; be prepared for this trick. Somehow, seeing your daughter's beautiful hair hidden brings back a collective Jungian memory of being covered up and carted off to a cave. Try to ignore that feeling, unless you live in a country where indeed that might happen. We had to wait for the next day to hit the rest of the shops, but so far so good. I smiled and nodded, she was sleep-deprived and radiant.

We laughed about the semi/pushy/saleswoman/owner of one shop and had a wonderful time at another. We had come full circle, my daughter was now my friend and we could enjoy this shopping safari. We finally met a good saleswoman. She complimented at the right time, waited patiently, knew when to leave us alone and when to fuss with yet another color sash. There was another bride-to-be sharing our space in this little boutique with her mother. A cute little blond thing who I thought for sure was a country singer, but it turns out she's a teacher. I saw this young woman's taste go from over the top glitzy to classic in the time we were there sharing stories and the mirror. All the while my girl had an idea in her head of the perfect dress and we were getting close, very close. At the last shop she tried on "the one." How did I know? By the way it lit up her face. But she had previously rejected this one because of the price, it was a lovely, lacy concoction, a Monique Lhuillier. We were in heaven!! We had found the dress, but she refused to pay, or wait, let's put it another way, let me pay that much for one dress. My husband and I managed to raise a young woman with a conscience. She wants a sustainable wedding, using local, organic foods...email "save the dates" to save paper...and now we were on the hunt for a recycled or previously used Lhuillier on : http://www.preownedweddingdresses.com/

A few weeks later, with her maid of honor/best friend by her side, she raided her Grandmother's closet in NJ and came out with a 1950's designer lace gown that she happily proclaimed was "the one!"And along with Grandma, we four formed a happy circle jumping up and down while she whispered to me, "...this is how I wanted it to be."

Picking out your colors is the first thing you do

My soon to be year old puppy, Bean, just started barking as I opened the back door to let her in. I turned to look at the edge of the woods where she was attending, and staring back was the most beautiful red fox. For a split second, we all looked at each other and time seemed to standstill. Then eons of canine genetic material switched on and Bean started to charge the woods. She had to work backwards, going in the opposite direction to get off our deck, and so I stared into the startled fox eyes a few seconds more; it was as if she was thinking, "But I live here, and that dog is barely as big as I am, are you sure you want to do this?" Bean stopped at her invisible fence line, left to sniff the scent of the wild.

So you see, I live in the mountains. We have a beautiful Blue Ridge view and lots of serenity, at least when the dogs are inside and not on the hunt. My daughter was born in the mountains of Western Massachusetts, and she wanted a mountain view for her wedding. This was after two months of telling me she was going to have one of those destination weddings in the French West Indies. Very small, less than twenty people, only best friends and immediate family. I said fine, after all, what did I know? I was still in shock, like the fox. Friends kept congratulating me on my daughter's engagement and I was perplexed. Shouldn't they be congratulating her, after all she got her man, right? I had nothing to do with it. But, be prepared for this disconnect and be ready to accept everyone's delight for you, her mother. So I started to accept their salutations gracefully, getting used to the idea that my precious little girl, who had just turned thirty, was going to wed. Eventually the pressures that collide on brides-to-be - from grandparents, future-in-laws, rabbis and priests and friends of friends and the Starbucks barrista - worked their inevitable way around her plans. She and her fiancee decided to be married in their home state, in the university town where they met, my town, right around the corner from the anatomy lab where they first got to know each other over a cadaver.

People in the know, in the wedding biz, told me that having a wedding at home was risky. What if it rains? You will hear that alot - "What IF It Rains??" I've started to reject any and all negative thoughts simply to save my sanity. "If it rains," I'll now say, "we'll buy umbrellas!" See how easy it can be to plan a wedding, simply replace any naysayer with your own pollyannaish saying! Mud? We'll tell people to bring their Wellies!! Anyway, our house was out, since the back yard is sloped at an angle that would make any tent look lop-sided and dancing a dangerous activity. I tried my best to talk them into a "venue" that has it all, such as a fancy vineyard with a gorgeous Napa-like mansion, or a historical spot like a President's home. But if it smacked of "wedding venue" it was not for them. They wanted to be married at the highest, most photographically gorgeous summit around, in an apple orchard! Problem was, the orchard was closed until May. But, my brilliant husband tracked down the owners and got the green light in April; it's good to have a good problem-solving husband around on occasion. And we knew our colors! Picking out your colors is the first thing you do. It's like knowing your baby's sex so you can paint the nursery. She wanted Blue Ridge Mountain colors - Blue/Lilac/Pale Yellow - when the sun is setting.

Next came the photographer. We did our online research, and I was instructed to go all out on this, money was no object. So we picked two, and I sat down to interview them. Funny, how it reminded me of interviewing pediatricians before she was born. Now, I've been reading up on this all the while, you know...."The Everything Wedding Etiquette Book," "Budget Weddings for Dummies." And here is the best piece of advice I got about photographers, check in with how you feel around them. In other words, if you are comfortable with their personality, and their aesthetic, then they will fit right into the day and not stick out and keep trying to pose people for pictures. And we were adamant about this - a journalistic, artsy style won out. A great guy who likes to photograph nature in his spare time, someone who the groom-to-be wanted from the get go. So yippee, first vendor hired; we now have a venue and a vendor, just a thousand small details to go, like a caterer.

Mother-of-the-Bride in 5, Four months

After years of thinking, "...if I were younger I'd be blogging," I thought instead, "WTHeck!" We are bombarded with books and advice on how to be a parent from the moment that little stick turns color in the bathroom. Let's face it, you are never really prepared for the abundance of love that fills your heart when you first set eyes on that baby; and all the tantrums and loss of sleep fade away as they grow into tax-paying adults who are not living in your basement. But what do we know about that next big step, the one hopefully after college graduation and some period of time, maybe living alone and following their bliss? You know the step, the big "Mom I'm engaged!" phone call.

We know nothing...NOTHING!! Well at least I know nothing, and I'm kinda proud that I can accept this fact. Because right away, it allows me to ask for help! A stranger I met through a friend the other day said, "Don't worry honey, good food and a great band, no one will remember anything else." Sigh of relief. Yes I thought, so that's the secret; next time I'm awake at 3am this will be my mantra, "food and band, food and band." This woman had married two daughters off in one year. Granted they were both destination weddings, which let's face it folks, makes it much easier. Why? Because everyone who can afford to travel to this idyllic getaway is immediately self-selecting - you will have smaller and rowdier numbers and yes, there will be someone there to arrange everything! Of course, if the bride's parents are paying for much of the weekend, a destination wedding can get pricey. But let's get real. Anything that has the word "wedding" tacked onto it - add another 10-50% Flowers for a party, sure...oh, it's a wedding party??

But I digress and must really start at the beginning, which was right after Thanksgiving 2009, when we got that phone call. My daughter had wanted him to "...put a ring on it" ala Beyonce for quite some time. I kept telling her she didn't have to marry these days to have children, but in my zeal to raise a smart, feminist girl I've discovered she's a bit of a traditionalist. She is my warrior princess, my shana maidela, my everything! She has followed her daddy's career path, Emergency Medicine, and has known this fine young fiancee of hers for six years. They met in medical school and are both very, very busy residents at a hospital right now three states away. So right after telling me all about the ring, which is stunning with a capital "S," my lovely daughter began listing all the things she doesn't want in her wedding: "No MC, no cake, no bridesmaids, no no no..." And so the negotiating begins.