Tag Archives: wedding party

Countdown to a Wedding – The Brother

This weekend, my baby brother will be tying the knot. In honor of this, I’m going to give you all a blow-by-blow account of what we’ve done to prepare. Well, sort of. The bride’s family is taking care of everything really, so we haven’t done that much.

Over the weekend, my sister and I had our hair done (so it would look fresh for the wedding). Then it was a trip to the nail salon for pedicures and nails. Meanwhile, my dog was at the groomer. The four of us (my mom, sister, dog, and myself) are all groomed and ready for the wedding. Or are we?

Phillip, my brother, is the only boy and the baby of the family. I was six years old when he was born and I remember praying every day for a brother. I’d had enough of sisters – they weren’t any fun. I wanted a baby brother to love and cuddle. The day he was born, I remember going to the hospital with my stepdad¬†and sister to see him. He was…enormous. Phillip was 11 lbs, 15 oz. and 23 inches long. He had thick, black hair and looked a little like E.T.

We joke now that he was born with teeth, but he was just so cute. He was allergic to milk, so he was on a soy milk formula for the first year of his life. This didn’t slow his growth at all. He grew by leaps and bounds, looking four years older than he actually was. The shine of having a new baby brother wore off quick. I had a social life…across the street at my friend’s house. But I couldn’t visit with her much since Phillip was attached to me.

It never got any better, so it shouldn’t have been any surprise that he became my best friend. We’ve played Voltron, G.I. Joe, Nintendo, He-Man and She-Ra together. We were inseparable. He wasn’t just my brother, or friend, I sometimes feel like he’s my own child.

Now, before I start getting off on a tangent, my point to this post is Phillip didn’t have just one mom. My sister is fourteen years older than him, so she was like a second mom to him. His godmother had two daughters born on either side of him and they all spent a lot of time together. She was his third mother. And then I became like his mom as well.

Our concern for the wedding? He’ll have four women blubbering over him. My mom says the only way she’ll be able to get through the ceremony is to recall that this union will give her more grandchildren. My sister doesn’t have a plan other than to try to stick it out. My aunt…well, I don’t know how she’ll manage. He’s the son she never had so I think she might get a little teary-eyed. As for me? I’m just praying I don’t start bawling on the altar. I mean, I’m supposed to be a groomswoman, I need to present a solemn and stoic air…I think. I’ll cry afterwards at the reception.

So I’m dedicating this post to my baby brother, Phillip Charles, who has tormented me, supported me, and taken my sisterly teasing for 27 years. I love you, Phee-Phee!

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Tales of a Groomswoman Part 1

I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned this before, but my younger brother is getting married in June. It’s weird. I remember him as this little boy who followed me around and ruined my social life (as an 8-year-old, visiting my friend across the street was a social life).

So he’s getting married and really, this will be the first big wedding my family has seen in over 20 years. We’re not a big family, and the last few weddings were simple ceremonies in front of a Justice of the Peace, or a minister at someone’s home. My brother’s wedding, on the other hand, will be a true Catholic wedding.

My future sister-in-law has seven bridesmaids. We don’t have that many men in our family. Sadly enough, or not so sadly, the women outnumber the men. He came up with four groomsmen, borrowed one from his bride-to-be’s family, and still had two slots left. He was going to leave them open, which would’ve just looked funny. So what did he do? He asked me and my cousin, Jenny, to stand in as groomswomen.

Thankfully, we won’t have to walk with the bridesmaids because that would just be weird. We’re not wearing tuxes either. No, we have to find…dresses. I’m shuddering even while I type this. I’m not a dress type person. I never have been. I tried talking them into kilts. I can do a kilt, but no, my sister-in-law nipped that idea in the bud.

So this weekend, my cousin and I are braving New Orleans to find something appropriate to wear. Problem is, we’re so not the same size. What looks good on her won’t look good on me, and vice versa. We’ll have to compromise, which when it comes to two hard-headed females, might not work out.

I’m hoping that whatever we do find, I’ll be able to wear again, possibly for the RWA awards banquet. Then I can justify my spending money on a…ick, dress.

I’ll blog about this more and more, the closer the wedding gets, so I hope you’re all prepared for some fun!

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