Remember the first round of weddings that you attended, right after college where everyone was free and easy? If those memories are anything like mine, they included partying with close friends, lots of alcohol, a few inappropriate make-out sessions and hangovers the next day.
This is pretty wild…even by my standards… but you catch my drift…
Most likely there was not a child in sight. If there was, it was a random flower girl or ring bearer that you didn’t know and didn’t give two shits about. It surely didn’t affect your buzz or your awesome dancing prowess.
Fast forward to weddings when your older, with your children. Total buzz kill. I’ll say it right now – I think it should be a national law – or at least an unwritten code – to have all weddings be child-free.
I would go as far as to suggest that if it is your family member getting married, that yes – your children attend the ceremony if they must, but perhaps have babysitter on hand for the reception.
The parents/guests just want a night to get dressed up (well, at least the wife does) and have an excuse to drink and dance with their husbands (and let’s face it – after you’re married 99.9% of husbands don’t go dancing so this is one of the required instances where they are obligated to indulge their wife/partner and DANCE BITCH!)
Case in point: my sister’s wedding. It was a beautiful setting: a winery with an idyllic vista. My sis did a wiz-bang job perfecting the farm-chic motif with vintage candy bar and stocked to the rafters with mason jars for the old-timey lemonade complete with striped straws.
Unfortunately – you can’t plan the weather. It was so hot you couldn’t get a buzz on for fear of dehydration. People were even putting ice in their cabernet-filled wine glasses (and not just crazy Aunt Shirley who drinks her red wine like that all the time) – like EVERYONE!
But, we all were soldiering on. Here’s when my then 5 year old (I’ll refer to him as “H”) truly made it his mission to survive impending heat stroke. For some fucked-up reason, they were watering part of the grassy knoll during the pivotal speech moments.
Here I am in the middle of delivering a heartfelt and, in my opinion, witty speech when I see H totally running through said sprinkler. Oops – where are his parents? Oh yeah – had to send hubby home with the 2 year old to down Gatorade and get out of the 5th-circle-of-hell heat.
Then came the father/daughter dance. Totally wanted to see my sis and dad share this touching moment… was I able to? What the fuck do you think?
No. No I was not.
My son got a massive sliver from the rustic picnic tables that some of us were forced to sit at. These looked so awesome in the photos but were splinter-spikey “ruin-your-dress” or “impale –your-kid’s hand/leg” quality “shabby chic” vintage.
So as H was howling while I performed minor surgery getting out the splinter, I missed the moment.
And forget about dancing the night away. By that point, I was so annoyed at my kid and my having to constantly monitor him, the night was shot.
The moral: DO NOT TAKE KIDS TO WEDDINGS! Get your buzz and dance on in PEACE and check your kids at the damn door people!