Momzilla

As Erica's wedding approaches, I am finding it harder to get to sleep at night. I think some of it is actually stress by proxy. I worry about everything she is dealing with at once: the last few weeks of her first year as a med student; she and Craig buying a house in Madison and all the details and expense involved with that; the wedding itself with the many last-minute preparations and glitches. I feel like I should be there helping, but I don't know exactly what form that help would take.
I helped her with the wedding invitations at the end of March and co-hosted a bridal shower for her a few days later. I dragged Fred to the menswear store in Madison to get his suit for the big day and assured her that he would have a fresh haircut and ear-hair-trim for the wedding. I listen to her vent on the phone when one thing or another goes wrong and offer advice that may or may not help. But hey--I also have my own problems.
Shopping for a mother-of-the-bride (MOB) dress has been a nightmare all its own. Designers apparently think that middle-aged mothers want to look like Queen Elizabeth or the mayor of Cougar Town. I looked in stores in which I normally have good luck, and was thoroughly disappointed with the selection--or moreso the lack thereof. Sure, if I'd made good on all the weight loss promises I made to myself and my readers over the past year, trying on dresses would be more fun and productive. But since I'm pretty much the "total me" I was a year ago, I have to look for both style and camouflage.
With only a little over 6 weeks to go, I did something I haven't done before: ordered dresses online. I'm very leery about sending for something that I can't try on first, but at least I found styles on websites that I'd actually want to wear. One dress is back-ordered until mid-May, but the other is on its way. I have my fingers crossed that I will both like and look decent in one of them so I don't have to keep searching.
Then there's the nagging worry that it will be unseasonably warm that day, and between the heat and my out-of-control hormones I will be a puddle of sweat just in time for the picture-taking. I am fervently hoping that the photograher is a master of the touch-up.
Ultimately, though, it is Craig and Erica's day, and as long as everything goes the way they hope it does, I am going to try to chill about everything else. If there is any freaking-out to be done, I won't be in the center of it. Looking forward to the 5:00 cocktail hour will definitely help.