VERY BAD, HORRIBLE MOTHER
22 October 2003
I am a terrible mother.
When Ned and Marta got married, it was a do-it-yourself wedding. We all pitched in for food, Walt and Jeri built the arch under which they had the ceremony (the minister was 6'7" or something like that, so a "ready made" one was not big enough). I made the wedding cake that was specially decorated with frosting clowns to match the clown theme. I worked hard on that wedding.
When Paul and Audra got married, it was another pot luck wedding, and we all worked on preparing food. The whole town had been invited and we didn't know if we were expecting 200 people or 2000 people. I made a big wedding cake that was decorated with smiley faces (our own joke between us).
Tom and Laurel live an 8 hr drive from Davis, so it wasn't going to be possible for me to be that directly involved. And they are planning a more traditional wedding, so the food is catered and the cake is ordered from a professional. Also, long before Tom had popped the question, I had purchased my plane ticket for Australia, so I knew that even if there were something I could do directly to work on the wedding, I wasn't going to be here anyway.
I was a little disappointed at missing out on all the preparations, but knew that distance (and the fact that they had lots of help locally, what with Tom's aunt and Laurel's very large family) would make it unnecessary for me to be involved.
But before I left, Tom asked if I could help design the wedding program. He had some specifics that he wanted, but they didn't have all the information yet. I started working on it, and my first design wasn't exactly what he had in mind.
Tom is also an excellent graphic designer, so I knew that his asking me to help was more a way to get me involved rather than something that they really needed.
Time got away from me and I didn't get a chance to get the design finished before I left for Australia, but since time was not crucial at that point, and since Peggy is such a terrific graphics person, I figured I would finish it up in Australia, but I needed some information from Tom, which he never had time to send me.
My design for the program never got done.
When I returned, everything was ready for the wedding, but Tom only asked one thing--they want pictures of their grandparents' wedding to display on the guestbook table, and he asked if I could take charge of getting a photo of my parents' wedding.
"No problem," I told him. I knew exactly where the photo was--in my baby book (I'm one of those weird people whose mother actually kept my baby book all through my childhood, as I did with my own kids).
I was happy that there was at least one thing that I could do to contribute, other than paying for the rehearsal dinner tonight.
Halfway down the freeway to Santa Barbara, I realized I'd forgotten to bring the photo. I felt awful. I called Ned, who has been running around like a chicken with his head cut off trying to assemble the sound system and get things ready for music for the wedding. He said he'd try to find a way to get by the house to get the photo, but I felt just awful about loading his plate even fuller because of my stupidity.
"Your head is still in Oz, Mom," he said.
I guess he's right. Packing for this trip when I haven't even quite unpacked from Australia had my head spinning.
But I still felt stupid. Tom had asked me to do only two simple things and I'd screwed up both.
I fretted about it for mile after mile.
How could I possibly make it right. If only I could download a wedding photo of my parents from the internet........boinnnnngggggg
It suddenly hit me that some time ago, I uploaded a wedding photo of my parents to the wedding fotolog. I COULD do it. All I needed was my laptop.
When we got here, at midnight, I logged onto the Internet and went to Fotolog, found the photo, downloaded it, and now I just have to find a placed that will print photos from disk and I'm all set.
Ned was still going to swing by the house and try to find my baby book, but in case he can't, I can still have something for the guestbook table. I may be a terrible mother, but at least the Internet helped me to find a bandaid for my stupidity.