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Writer To Reader
Guest Post 
August 2015

Dream Wedding or Momzilla Nightmare?

Author Sheila Roberts Shares Her Nuptial Memories
 

Much has been written about brides who morph into Bridezillas when planning their weddings. But in Sheila Roberts’ delightful August novel,  A Wedding on Primrose Street, it’s the mom who does the morphing—into a full-blown Momzilla!

We couldn't help wondering about Sheila’s own wedding. Did her big day inspire this latest installment in her Icicle Falls series, where a wedding planner transforms into a Momzilla after her poor daughter announces her engagement?

Sheila graciously agreed to share memories of her wedding . . . and the role her mom played. (And guess whose son is getting married this summer? Will she become a Momzilla?)


                                                           

Weddings, they’re always a big day. Those of us who’ve been involved with one, either as the bride or the mother of the bride, know how much goes on before that bridal march begins to play.

Much of the behind the scenes work on my wedding was done by my mother. Happily, she didn’t transform into a Momzilla, as my wedding planner did in A Wedding on Primrose Street when her daughter announced her engagement. But my mom did want everything to be perfect.

When my mom got married there wasn’t a lot of money for a big, fancy wedding—she didn’t even have a proper wedding gown—so when it came time for me to get married she was all about savoring every little detail. And savor she did! Instead of flowers, my bridesmaids carried lace fans that she’d created. She made my garter, too. Even the groom’s cake (back in the day when the groom’s cake was a disgusting little piece of fruit cake passed off in a pretty wrapper) was her brain baby. It came as tiny white leather Bibles sporting a small flower. Massively labor intensive!

I am missing the craft gene. My mother knew this and, when some of us gathered to make these little party favors she got very creative in keeping my ten thumbs away from the project. “Sheila, how about playing the piano for us?” “Dear, would you make us some tea?” “I think I hear your Father calling. Would you go see what he wants?” Everyone raved about how adorably that groom’s cake was presented. Nobody bothered to ask me if I had any part in it. They knew better.

From the cake to the flowers, my wedding was beautiful. And big! Between all the bridesmaids, groomsmen and candle lighters the bridal party was quite a crowd. (I remember someone looking at a picture of the bridal party and asking if that was the choir that sang at my wedding.) Well, if you thought that was a lot of people, you should have seen the guest list. But it was a wonderful wedding and a good time was had by all, especially my mom.

As I was writing A Wedding on Primrose Street I kept thinking about how much my wedding meant, not only to me but to my mother as well. Weddings really are important life events, and not just for the bride and groom. They’re a time of family bonding and community celebrating, of reminiscences as well as new beginnings. A wedding is, indeed, a big deal.

My son is getting married this summer. In another state. He sent a video of the venue, and it looks gorgeous. Plans are coming right along . . .  but without any help from me. My son and future daughter-in-law have things well in hand, and all I have to worry about is showing up and paying for the rehearsal dinner the night before. Oh, and losing weight to get into my dress. (It will be so much easier coming up with money for the dinner! Heck, I might still be dieting that night.) One thing is for sure, nobody’s asking me to help with the party favors.


Visit SheilasPlace.com | Order books by Sheila Roberts


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