Welcome back to Seven Brides: the series where I take you through all the weddings I’ve been involved in. In my last post I told the rather uneventful story of my older brother’s wedding in 2012. I was 19, wore a red, extremely impractical bridesmaid dress, had my hair done BAD, and the only good story that came out of it was a cake disaster…and it wasn’t that exciting.
This wedding, though, I’m still bitter about.
For the record, I don’t have anything against DIY Weddings. I’m sure if I ever get married I’ll have plenty of DIY elements. I’m bitter about this wedding specifically because I feel strongly if a wedding is going to be DIY, the couple better be the ones DIY-ing.
This was my cousin’s wedding, and the first not-sad family occasion since the deaths of my father and grandfather in late 2012 and early 2013, respectively. My older brother had been the first grandchild to get married–however, he’s not the oldest in the generation. In fact, my brothers and I are the tail end of the birth order. The three older cousins either weren’t dating or weren’t talking about it at the time, but I always felt my cousin (the groom of this story) had always been a bit girl crazy. Part of me has always believed that the sole reason he proposed to his girlfriend was because he saw my brother get married first, thought, “That looks good!” and went for it.
I didn’t really know the bride at all. I actually wasn’t supposed to be involved in the wedding at all. My older brother was going to be a groomsman (although since my cousin had been his best man, I think he was a little hurt he didn’t get the reciprocated position). The wedding was set for my brother’s first anniversary, the third Sunday in June. I don’t remember if this was done on purpose or not. If you think it sounds a bit tacky (as I kinda did), just know that both my brother and my cousin are the sort that think the more connections people have, the better. My brother even wanted to get married on his birthday because my parents got married on my dad’s, but it was on a less convenient day. (He probably would’ve also settled for my parents anniversary and Dad’s birthday if it was on a weekend, though Dad decidedly would not have allowed that). A few weeks before the wedding, one of the bridesmaids dropped out and the bride asked if my new SIL would be willing to step in–and thankfully, she was the same size and height as the dropout.
My lack of planned involvement didn’t mean I wasn’t invited to the festivities. The wedding was in the Texas Hill Country– a place that I found very special in my childhood. My aunt and uncle were probably the ones I was closest to at the time, and my mom and I stayed in their upstairs guest rooms while my brother and SIL stayed downstairs.
I also remember fondly that it was one of the first and only solo road trips that I accomplished using printed, map quest directions. Like the summer before, I was living in my college dorm and working in the office, south of Ft. Worth. My mom would be coming to the Hill Country from Houston, making our routes very triangular. I’d had my car for only a few weeks at this time– my trusty old 2002 Ford Focus (just so we’re clear, I’m being extremely liberal with my use of the word “trusty”). I’d never gone to that part of Texas on my own before, not to mention from school. It’s not exactly an open interstate the whole way. I was very proud of myself when I made it. I was even more excited to show off my car to anyone that cared…though in hindsight, nobody really did.
I believe I arrived in the afternoon, though I don’t remember if it was the day of the rehearsal or the day before. My aunt showed me some of the hand-made decorations that her step-daughter and step-son’s wife had made for the bouquets and other decorations, and then asked if we would be willing to come help set up the reception hall after the rehearsal. My mom and I agreed. It was no secret to my family that I was always up for some crafting.
We attended the rehearsal and the dinner. I didn’t know anybody in the wedding that I wasn’t related to, so I stuck pretty closely with my mom. As promised, we accompanied my aunt back to the rented hall space: the common room of a local senior community center. I remember the space struck me as very boring. They didn’t even have tables or chairs. Someone had to bring those over from the church. But we got to decorating. The theme of the wedding was “country chic” (ah, 2013…ahead of it’s time). My step-cousin put me to work immediately making long, burlap table-runners. I also hand-wrote several of the name tags for the personalized, wedding favor mason jars.
The groom and his friends stuck around to help do anything they could. The place had to be cleaned before we could set anything up, and then most of the furniture had to be cleared before they could bring in the tables and chairs. However, the bride and her family were nowhere to be found. The bridesmaids were also MIA. My aunt reached out to ask her where they were (because decorating the night before had been either the bride’s or her mother’s idea) and the mother said that they were spending time with family that came from out-of-town.
In my opinion, they should’ve done what my aunt did–bring the out-of-town wedding guests to help! This all was her vision, after all. I don’t know how much help they would’ve been anyway, because even with eight or ten people, we still had to quit around eleven and return in the morning.
Well, some of us returned in the morning. My aunt had a hair appointment and had paid for my mom to tag along (I guess because my mom didn’t learn from the previous summer’s mistakes, though her hair did not look memorably bad the way it does in the pics from 2012). It was her son’s wedding, after all. My step-cousin and her sister-in-law (my step-cousin-in-law?) were the ones that I met at the senior center that Sunday morning. The coordinator might have also been there early on. The wedding I believe was at two back at the church, but we were back to work by 9. A few people rotated in and out as the morning progressed. Occasionally a man would come and we’d have him move something. I seem to remember putting some burly guy to work on a floral arrangement. The live flowers were delivered and we started placing them in any arrangement we could find.
And here is where we have cake disaster #3.
As any DIY wedding, this one was on a budget. But if weddings have taught me anything, it’s to not skimp on your cake. They ordered a plain, multi-tiered wedding cake from H-E-B, the superior grocery store of Texas. They had a converted plant stand set up with the floral foam tiers underneath it where we carefully placed bunches of baby’s breath and other flowers. The cake was delivered around noon, and in the Texas heat, it was already in the 90s outside. The inside of the place was also heating up, my guess is somewhere in the high 70s, if not the 80s because of the size of the space and the amount of sunshine in the windows. Buttercream should have endured the heat for a few hours. Fondant would’ve been even better.
That’s when we discovered that this cake had been iced in whipped cream. And whipped cream melts.
We didn’t have access to enough fridge space to store the tiered cake. The most we could do was put fans on it, but then the baby’s breath was getting stuck in the icing. The still-melting cake was the last thing I laid eyes on before I had to leave. A church member was left to tend the cake as the three of us dashed to our respective homes to change for the wedding, less than an hour away.
They’d left the house unlocked for me, at least. But I didn’t have time to shower. I changed into the outfit I’d brought and put my hair in a clip. I smothered my face in badly-applied foundation and gave myself some eyeliner. I don’t think I even put on mascara before I ran back out the door to my car and headed back to the church.
If the ceremony hadn’t started late, I wouldn’t have made it until after the bride entered. I sat between my mom and my older cousins that had arrived with our other aunt from San Antonio. I saw that my step-cousins had each made it, but they also looked a bit disheveled.
I again don’t remember much about the ceremony (you’ll find it’s a real trend of mine) except for one part. During the rehearsal, the wedding coordinator gave a lecture to the father of the bride about lifting her veil and kissing her cheek before officially giving her away at the alter. She had him practice the veil thing three or four times. For whatever reason, the man could not get it together. The coordinator specifically told him, “If you remember nothing else, remember to kiss her on the cheek!” Well, here we were, ceremony day, and the dad mumbled his give-away and went to sit. Maybe he was overcome with emotion. Maybe he didn’t care. Either way, that’s what I remember.
I will say I remember more about the reception. It’s one of the few weddings I’ve attended with long, banquet-style guest tables instead of round ones. I sat with my cousins, honestly people I rarely talk to, and told them all about the work me and the step-cousins had done on the reception hall. I wish I had pictures of it because, honestly, the before and after is pretty impressive. The bride and her mother didn’t have anything to say about it–at least, my aunt said that the mom didn’t have anything nice to say–but I try to give the bride the benefit of the doubt. It’s not like she didn’t have other things on her mind that day. It was the first time I saw the “shoe game” being played. There was pop-up trivia as well, which I thought was kinda fun. I was obsessed with mason jars for years after that wedding, and I still prefer them as cups to this day.
But when the wedding was over, somebody had to tear it down. But with the entire wedding party present this time (minus the groom, bride, or any member of her family) as well as some added guests, it was done in less than an hour. My aunt later gave me a little monetary “thank-you” for my work. I’d like to say I didn’t accept it– even though I didn’t have to do the work, I did get a bonding experience with my step-cousins and didn’t spend the weekend doing boring alternative wedding stuff– but I was a 20-year-old college student. I thanked her and accepted the gift.
Another thing I’ll always remember about that trip: the day after the wedding I stopped at a Valero on the edge of town to fill up my car for the trip home and locked my keys inside. I tried to call my mom, my aunt–literally anybody. But there was barely signal and nobody would answer the phone, even after I tried the inside land-line. The convenience store owner suggested I try the conveniently-located Ford dealership across the street to see if they had any tricks. I was a shy girl and really didn’t feel like begging strangers, but I knew I didn’t have options, and I couldn’t hang out in the convenience store forever.
Thankfully, a kind soul at the Ford Dealership came with a wedge to open my car door, and I was on the road for almost half an hour before my mom finally called me back in a panic.
That’s the end of the DIY wedding story. Bottom line, if you expect a DIY wedding, then DO IT YOURSELF. It’s in the name! If you happen to see someone struggling with wedding decorations, maybe stop and help them out for a while. If you lock your keys in your car, make sure it’s next to your model dealership.
Also, my cousin is divorced now.
Eat. Pray. Keep On. 