Weddings

   Last night we went to a friend's son's wedding.  Two things struck me:  when did it get to be my friends kids who are getting married? and two: when did I start paying attention to the mother of the bride's/groom's dress instead of the bride's?
   The first answer is indelibly printed in my mind.  My youngest daughter was just an infant and I was wearing a very cute and fitted red dress that had previously been stained with breast milk at the store.  My sweet husband had mentioned her as we shopped and that was that.  Thankfully it was a dress I liked and wanted.  So here I was at the beautiful wedding of our new friends' daughter, and all I could think of was that would be my husband conducting our daughters' weddings in 20 plus years and it was all I could do to remain composed. The mother of the bride was composed, the father of the bride was composed even as he did the service, and I marveled at how they were doing it.  Pharmaceuticals?
   The second is sketchier.  It happened, really, without noticing until I did and then it just hit me like a slap.  Here comes the processional, here are the grandparents and then here comes the mother and I'm thinking, "Great dress! Where did she get that?  Who did her make-up? She looks great!  Love the shoes!"  Oh my gosh I'm no longer interested in the couple, I'm interested in the couple's parents and more specifically, what the mother is wearing.  I'm thinking of shopping with my daughers and picking out flowers and praying to God that I will not be a blithering idiot when their daddy walks them down the aisle and preaches their wedding ceremonies! I'm thinking, how will I wear my hair considering it's short and spikey now?  Since then, the aforementioned parents (with me in that cute red dress?)  have just seen another child married and the first photo I noticed was how stunning my friend looked and what a great dress she had on (very stylish and a beautiful purpley color).  And that is when I knew that time goes at warp speed and I am clearly, squarely in middle-age.  I can't go back.  Even with coloring my hair to hide those pesky grays, it never dawned on me that I would be pushing 50 someday, but here I am.
   The wedding last night?  The bride was radiant, the groom was handsome and I loved the mothers' dresses.  We missed the reception, though.  Too late, way past my bedtime.