Not everyone gets to witness their mother getting married. By the time she and her groom took their vows, all traces of my ambivalence had vanished and I felt lucky, blessed and extremely happy for the two of them.
It was a lovely family-only affair (which, in our case, came in around 40 people)....
I wanted to slip four of those gold chargers under my top on the way out, but my new stepbrother wouldn't let me.
The wedding cake was as delicious as it was gorgeous.
Outside, grandchildren from both clans bonded over streamers, aluminum cans and shaving cream provided by the accommodating country club staff.
Inside, the wine flowed between eloquent, tear-jerking toasts and boisterous songs at the piano. (Kudos to Gary Adams, piano man extraordinaire.) Shortly after this photo was taken, my stepbrother (and new favorite partner in crime) and I secured rice from the kitchen and the two families pelted the pair as they ran (or, in their case, walked quickly) to their awaiting carriage.
(That's my mother's first name on on the window, in case you were thinking the children were all terrible spellers.)
As they drove off to loud cheers and applause, someone said, "I hope they don't get pulled over on the way home." To which another replied, "Yeah, but that might just be the icing on the cake."