The Bride Goes Wild

Whenever I am asked the question, "What is your most embarressing moment as a mom?"... the scene that always pops into my mind is the same one, time after time. Not that I haven't had other embarressing "mom" moments that have cropped up. But my poor oldest daughter will forever have this story branded upon her...and it's only fair, since after all, it was my most embarressing "mom" moments- and she did it!

For all of my extended family who may be lurking, I know you all know this story by heart! But for other friends, I couldn't resist telling it again. (And perhaps preserving it in writing so that the story will be all that more set in stone!)

It was May 3rd, 2002. My husband's brother, Ben was at long last giving up his bachelorhood and marrying his sweet girlfriend, Shari, in the wedding of the year. It was a big wedding. Bridesmaids everywhere...and my husband was one of the groomsmen. I was not in the wedding, but that was Ok, since my sweet little two and a half year old was asked to be a... minature bride!

So...there was a flower girl and ring bearer...and then a tiny little bride and groom, to boot!
We had purchased a darling bridal dress for her, and even found a veil and gloves...and when she had everything on, the effect so sweet!

Oh, and I should add here that I had just given birth to my lil cherub, just 15 days before. So, basically, my role was tied up with caring for my newborn... and hoping that she wouldn't pick a crucial time in the ceremony as time to let out a wail.

Meanwhile, my husband was dashing in his tux, and did a tremendous job being in charge of the Little Bride.
Someone else, though, was responsible for nudging the Little Bride and Groom down the isle because Hubby was at that point standing with the other attendents on the stage.
And the moment came...my Little Bride with her groom came toddling down the isle. People "Ahhhhed...". Folks laughed sweetly. And you can imagine my pride.

But then, things started going slightly awry. It was apparent that our Little Bride was making good on her "off-hand comment" to her daddy that she wanted to dance on the stage when she got down the isle. When she and her groom reached the end of the trail, she, indeed, let go of his hand and trotted up to the stage, thus beginning her incredible twirls and spins. She just was arabesquing all over the place!

People good-naturedly snickered...then the snickers turned to big, ruckus guffaws. I sat there, frozen...like the quintessential deer caught in headlights. My infant lie in her carrier near my feet...she seemed to be doing OK. Dare I leave and go up to the stage in front of hundreds and hundreds of people and retreive the wayward bride? I seemed glued to my pew, unable to move...but with an incredible urge to crawl under it.

Finally, my husband left his diginified post and escorted said-bride off of the stage. Realizing her moment of fame was coming to an end, she let out an ear-piercing wail of protest all the way down the steps, and into my less than eager arms. And just when I thought I had conjoled her into quietness, she insisted on going across the isle to sit with her cousin. When my answer to her was a no, the wails began all over. Suffice it to say...the little bride left the building.

There's more to the story. But I will say that my husband's brother and new sister in law were wonderful about it- I was apologizing profusely to them but they just thought the whole thing was simply hysterical. To think the real bride was gracious enough to love the whole thing...even when a two year old tried to steal her glory! But that's the kind of gal she is.

Me, on the other hand? Perhaps it was my sensitive new-mother hormones, but I felt as if I was wearing a tattoo plastered acrossed my forehead:
"Mommy of child who dances in front of hundreds of wedding-goers, throws tantrum, and causes general chaos at elegant affairs." It was days (OK, years) before I could laugh about it and mean it.

But you can bet this story in our extended family has lived on.
And just like the many family folklore that all of my husband's siblings like to take turns telling around the campfire on thier annual coastal camping trip, this one will some day be right up there with the best of 'em.

And when my daughter is someday in her teens, and all of us old fogies are bundled up, roasting marshmellows, she will sigh heavily and groan,
"No...please don't tell the Legend of the Dancing Mini-Bride again!"

And I will smile.

(posing with cousin Jessica...oh, how she wanted to sit with her!)