Phillip and I stop by his parents’ before heading to Neil’s to watch the Nebraska game. I’m updating Mrs. Mac on a few wedding details when she lets out a big sigh.
“I still haven’t found a dress. Ashley and I have gone shopping a lot, but I just can’t seem to find anything. The wedding is going to be so pretty and romantic. Is it bad that I don’t want to look like the mother of the groom?”
“What do you mean?”
She frowns. “I know I’m the mother of the groom, but I don’t want to look old. In all the dresses Ash likes, I’ve felt like my mother.”
“Ashley doesn’t have a whole lot of patience either. I’m sure she gets mad at you when she likes something and you don’t.”
“Exactly. I let her pick out the dress I wore to her wedding, and I hated that thing. I looked like a banana.”
We laugh. Ashley’s wedding was very yellow.
“Let’s go shopping today,” I suggest.
“But the game is on soon, and I thought you had a party to go to.”
“Even better,” I sort of shock myself by saying. “That means the stores won’t be crowded. And we see Neil all the time. It won’t kill us to miss it.”
Somehow—possibly it’s a miracle sent down from God himself—I’m able to convince Phillip and Mr. Mac that they need to skip watching the game and come with us.
That it’s important.
Mrs. Mac sweetens the deal when she promises to record the game and make her gorgonzola-stuffed burgers with mushroom wine sauce for dinner. Who can refuse that?
Mrs. Mac and Ashley have been shopping in bridal stores, looking at typical mother-of-the-groom dresses. I suggest we look at holiday dresses instead. Phillip whines and says he can’t shop on an empty stomach, so we head to an upscale mall and have lunch first. We even have wine. I joke and tell Phillip that, since he was whining, he needed wine.
As we walk out of the restaurant and head toward the dress shop, Phillip says, “Hey, do you mind if Dad and I go to the jewelry store while you try on dresses?”
I am ready to lay into Phillip because the whole point of this shopping trip is to find his mom a dress and not sneak off to the jewelry store where they’re probably hoping to find a TV.
Phillip’s mom looks at me, sees I’m about to blow, and says happily, “That sounds like a plan. We’ll text you when we find something.”
She makes a beeline to the dress shop, so I follow along.
When we get out of earshot of the guys, she grabs my arm. “JJ, you never, ever tell your man not to go in a jewelry store. Seriously.”
And I realize she probably has a point.
We go to a great little boutique that’s fully stocked with holiday dresses, so we have a lot of nice dresses to choose from.
“Do you have a preference as to what color I wear?” she asks.
“What do you think would look good?”
“Well, I showed my friends a picture of the bridesmaid dresses and told them your colors. They thought either silver, light purple, dark purple, or black.”
“Hmm, I love black dresses, but I’m afraid you’d blend in with the boys. Your son is getting married. I think you should stand out.”
With that remark, I make her cry.
“I’m so lucky to be getting you for a daughter-in-law,” she tells me while wiping the corners of her eyes.
With our criteria in mind, we enlist the salesperson’s help and find six dresses for her to try on. And, kinda like with my dress, one just stands out.
The dress is a gorgeous deep purple color. It’s strapless with an empire waist, and the skirt flows perfectly over her curves. The bodice sparkles with matching purple beading, and the color looks beautiful with her complexion. Honestly, Phillip’s mom is looking hot in this dress.
She loves it. She’s grinning, holding the skirt, and twirling around. “Do you think I’m too old to wear a dress like this? Everything Ashley and I tried on at the bridal store looked much more matronly. I’m the mother. Can I wear a dress that looks like I belong singing in a nightclub?” But then she’s like, “But look at the way it twirls when I dance, and it’s surprisingly lightweight, even with the beading. What do you think?”
“You haven’t tried them all on yet, but this is my favorite. You look gorgeous, and I don’t think you should look matronly. You certainly don’t look old enough to have a son who’s getting married.”
“You just sold me.” She giggles. “But this is fun. I think I’ll try on the rest.”
“Let me take a pic of you and send it to Mrs. D, so we can get her opinion.”
I take a pic of her and send it off. She’s in a silver sequined gown that’s so heavy, she can hardly walk when Mrs. D texts back, LOVE IT!
She tries on the other dresses and then puts the purple one back on. I text Phillip to come look at it.
Phillip says, “Damn, Mom, are you sure that dress isn’t too sexy?”
Mrs. Mac blushes, and I swear, I see Mr. Mac slide him a twenty.
After she buys the dress, Phillip says, “Hey, we haven’t registered yet, and the jewelry store has great dishes. Wanna go register? We need to look at wedding bands, too.”
I’ve been dreading registering because Lori told me I needed to picture what kind of dishes I would want to serve my children holiday dinners on. What dishes I want to feed Phillip a lovingly made dinner from every night. What color my kitchen would be, so my mixer would match.
Registering felt like a huge task, but it isn’t.
We walk in, look at the fine china patterns, look at each other, and say, “That one.”
Then, we pick out flatware, and Phillip’s dad picks out a stemware pattern that I love. It’s gorgeous, heavy crystal, but the glass is cut in a modern way.
Phillip’s mom shows us the items that she loves to use when entertaining and those things that are too much of a hassle to deal with. Like real silver. Yes, it’s shiny and gorgeous in the store, but who has time to deal with it?
And, instead of registering being a chore, it’s a breeze. I think Phillip and I were just confused by all of the possibilities, but here, with his parents’ help, all our picks make sense. Phillip’s mom even suggests we register for a few holiday pieces. She says people will love knowing we’ll use them every year.
When we are done, Phillip takes me over to look at wedding bands. I’m a bit overwhelmed by all the sparkle in the case, and I don’t see one that is slightly curved, like my ring.
“I don’t think any of these will fit my ring. I don’t really need a wedding band, Phillip. My engagement ring is enough.”
“No way, Princess. You’re not getting out of wearing a wedding band that easily. I want everyone to know you’re married.” He touches my ring finger. “I also heard you talking to Lori about what kind of band you thought would look pretty, so I had one made. We snuck over here earlier to see if it was finished. Wanna see it?”
I have to control myself not to jump up and down in the middle of the store and scream, Of course I wanna see it!
A salesperson brings out a box and sets it in front of me. I slowly open the lid.
“Holy shit!” I say loudly.
Everyone in the store turns to stare at me.
I lower my head and say breathlessly, “Phillip, it’s gorgeous.”
My engagement ring has an X on each side that’s filled with baguette diamonds. The wedding band has three rows of the same baguettes. I take my engagement ring off, so I can try it on.
Phillip slides the band on my finger. “Just think, the next time I put this ring on your finger, we’ll be saying our vows. What do you think about writing our own vows?”
I’m pretty sure I’d agree to just about anything right now. Vows, murder, cheating, armed robbery. Yeah, whatever, I’m in.
I hold the ring up, watch it sparkle in the lights, and then put my engagement ring on top of it. “Sure, Phillip. Vows … yeah, we can do that.” I look at my hand some more. “Wow, this is pretty amazing.”
“I think you’re just easy to impress with a little bling.”
He gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek while I think, This is a heck of a lot more than a little bling.
I decide to take a lesson from Mrs. Mac and not say a word.
Because, if he wants to think this is a little bling, I can’t imagine the day he tries to impress me with some big bling.
