Let me tell you, nothing quite tests both a parent’s wallet and their ability to “let go” like having two
daughters getting married within months of each other.
You picture yourself drifting through a haze of tender vows, artful bouquets, and maybe a wobbly toast. The reality? It’s an Olympic sprint between Pinterest boards, Instagram rabbit holes, and in our house, a husband who managed to beat everyone—bride, mother-of-thebride, even the kittens—to the
tailor for a new suit.
Thanks to social media, weddings aren’t so much an event as a series of themed experiences— neon signs, pizza trucks, and, if you swipe long enough, the opportunity to hire a llama in a bowtie (don’t ask if I considered it). After a morning scrolling through wedding reels, I’d sent so many “genius ideas” to my daughters that I suspect the family group chat has a special setting for “mum-inspired
wedding spam.”
And through it all, Pete seized the wardrobe initiative. Before anyone could discuss themes or colour palettes, he’d booked his fitting and marched home with a suit in his chosen tone. I’ve spent weeks traipsing through swatch books, trying to find a Mother of the Bride dress that complements—not clashes with—his mysterious shade of “daring blue and green.” My dad always joked that Mum
picked her new outfit first, and he simply dug out the trusty suit and bought a matching handkerchief. Not us! Tradition, meet modern chaos.
The first wedding is the big one—planned to perfection and a dream event our eldest daughter and her fiance created with grit and style. They have footed the majority of the bill, saved every penny, and proved themselves absolute masters of both budgeting and vision. Our “parental contribution” was really just a ripple in their wellorganised pond, and honestly, they deserve a standing ovation (plus a possible side hustle in wedding consulting).
Both weddings have waved goodbye to seating charts— one’s a glorious free-for-all of bar leaners, couches, or hay bales, and the other, a backyard gathering with equal “find a spot” flair. Want a reserved seat? Arrive early, or cozy up to someone in a deck chair.
You’d think the smaller backyard bash would be the budget hit. Pete certainly did. “We’ll save a fortune!” he declared, glowing with the promise of thrift. (Bless his optimism.) So began a backyard renaissance of hard landscaping, new decks, and a pergola of such grandeur even the Sound of Music cast would approve. What was “saved” on the venue has been joyfully poured into our property—at this point, the only formal aisle is the one freshly crafted by Pete’s DIY spirit.
Meanwhile the girls—seasoned homeowners already—plan on with calm efficiency, letting us fuss over pergola angles, lawn grooming, and, naturally, whether light-up sneakers should be considered “essential” dance floor attire (I vote yes).
Here’s the golden lesson: the more you scroll, the more you’re convinced you need. But the magic isn’t in photogenic feeds, engraved cocktail stirrers, or even the meticulously matched outfits. It’s in the laughter as guests find a perch, the cheer when pizza’s delivered, and Pete’s “electric boogaloo” under his beloved pergola.
So, fellow wedding parents—put your phones down, embrace the happy chaos, and take pride in the real riches: memories, laughter, and stories you’ll tell long after the confetti and colour charts are put away. Because weddings last a day, but the best bits—family, love, and yes, a well-mismatched wardrobe—are here to stay.
Article by Mary Coltman
