First let me preface this post by saying that nobody has yet made us feel the way I’m about to describe. Nobody has said one thing about the way we’re planning our wedding or the choices we have made. I know that not everybody can say this and, for that, we are grateful.
From time to time, we wonder whether our parents, our family, will raise an eyebrow at the type of wedding we’re having. We were both raised in very large Italian families—his in New York, mine in Chicago. When somebody got married, it was in a very large Catholic church, then a banquet hall—usually the same one every time—that held roughly 300 people. Cousins of cousins of cousins were invited. Everybody had a plus-one. Kids abounded. Sometimes, as a 12-year-old, you could even get a misanthropic bartender to slip you a real daiquiri instead of the virgin version you ordered. The favors were always the same. It wasn’t even a question: six Jordan almonds in a little net bag, tied with a ribbon. There were junior bridesmaids and multiple flower girls. There was always a ring bearer.
You get the point. Maybe this is your story, too. Neither of us had been to an outdoor wedding until we were well into our 20s. And, quite frankly, I’ve never seen 99% of the “trendy” stuff on blogs like these at any wedding I’ve ever been to. Bunting, cupcakes, Mad Libs, photo booths—much to my chagrin, I haven’t experienced one of them.
So, sometimes, we worry. We worry that our families will silently endure the buffet, the outdoor dancing on the deck, the lack of unity candles and readings, the absence of a limo. We worry that they’ll wonder to themselves why children aren’t invited, why plus-ones aren’t handed out like candy.
Nobody has said a thing, but because the weddings we attended growing up are so drastically different from what we want for ourselves (And isn’t that the point—that we can now choose what we want for ourselves rather than falling prey to the whims of those footing the bill?), we worry that it will leave our families cold.
None of this should matter, of course. We could have monkeys and trapeze artists and a caricaturist and one of those machines where you put a penny in and it turns it into a keepsake souvenir imprinted with the outline of Missouri—we’d still end the day married. Us, married to one another, the only two people who could probably tolerate one another for forever. 🙂
Have you wrung your hands over the expectations of others—either real or made up inside your head? How did you overcome this burden?