However, as a mother of three, I kind of liked the distinction. Despite how dowdy it can make you feel, I believe matrons bring a certain level of expertise to the table unlike their maidenly counterparts.
That is, when asked to move chairs around the altar at variance points in the wedding ceremony, you incredulously accept your role, but then perform it with grace. Because hey, you've been practicing for this for weeks by carrying a 37 pound little boy up the stairs ten times a day to go potty.
You are also really good at helping the photographer get more oomph out of the bride and groom. When she asks them to nuzzle noses you make comments like, 'ugga mugga' because Daniel Tiger and his Mom do that really well. Or when the photographer says that's a wrap, you burst out in 'we did it, we did it, we did it, yeah!' because Dora and Boots have the best celebration dance of all.
You are really good at bustling on the fly because finding little hooks and clasps and fastening them as quickly as possible is one of your fortes as a mom.
You show a little more emotion in church because you know what it took to make two paths come together and become one, you know that love, even after six years, is truly patient and kind, and that bear hugs are always better than a hug from a gazelle. You take as many pictures as possible, because you know how fast it all goes. And when you give a speech, you speak with a little more maturity and a lot more sobriety.
Matrons also earn a little slack, which I needed here and there. Say, when you ask to buy a dress at the very last minute because your body seems to change its shape by the hour. Or when the bride generously offers to pay for your professional makeup application (thank you so much) because the circles under your eyes need a miracle. And when you are MIA, it is assumed you are nursing your baby when actually you might be sneaking another glass of wine so you can lead the Love Train with as much courage as possible.
So I called myself matron, and did my best to honor my beautiful sister and her handsome hubby throughout their wedding weekend. (A big thank you to Peter and Eva for helping me do that.) Being witness, support, fluffer and bustler, amateur photographer, speaker, blessing giver, flower girl and ring bearer wrangler, dancer, best friend and little sister was an amazing experience, captured best in the photos that follow.
One final view point though; one that a photo just can't capture. As the matron of honor, you get to stand right up front and watch the bride walk down the aisle as the groom lovingly looks on. Watching Joe see the love of his life walk to him, inching closer as her dress swished, her eyes beamed and her smile shined brighter than the little tiara in her hair, was pure magic. For a guy who spends so much time in back of a camera, I didn't see him take out his favorite tool once all day. He was completely and utterly present, letting his eyes take all the photos he needed of his beautiful bride on their special day.
Lo.
The Bridal Luncheon
Rehearsal
Wedding Day
The Brunch
The Matron of Honor Speech
I am Erin's little sister. And I am also a mother of three. I have Mary, Bobby and Margaret.
Recently, my four year old and first born, Mary, was having a tough day. I put her to bed with tears in her eyes that night. She gave me a hug and said (in her ever dramatic fashion), I don’t want to be the big sister anymore. It’s too hard. I just can’t do it.
I told her that ‘God chose you to be the big sister … just like God chose Aunt Erin to be the big sister in my family.’
Her response was comical … she said, 'I don’t want to be the chosen one.’
First of all, I laughed. Then I took the time to tell her a little bit more about how Aunt Erin was the best big sister ever. And how we can learn from her.
She was a big helper, like big sisters have to be. She listened and did what Nana and Opa asked her to do. She helped them take care of Uncle Adam and me, making sure we were safe and sound. Legend has it, that when we lived on Bartlett Street, I was riding my bike down our very steep driveway, gaining speed by the second. My sister rushed over and pushed me over, bike and all. Sure, I was bruised and scraped, but she proudly touted that she had saved my life.
She was such a big help and great teacher to Adam and me, that later on in life, she saw that hard work pay off. See after dinner, my Mom and Dad would linger at the table to finish their conversation. And all of three of us would be put to work; washing and drying dishes. Adam and I would start while Erin politely excused herself to go to the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later she would return and feign surprise that the chores were already finished. Well, nothing left for her to do I guess.
She was a fearless leader for us kids, like big sisters have to be. She was outspoken, always having a point of view that needed to be shared. She liked to get the last word in, as my mom would say. There were times when my Mom would discipline us for some reason, and my sister did not want to accept the punishment without sharing her side of the story. I would pull her aside and say, Erin, come on, do you really want to get in even more trouble? She would push me away and start to argue the defense, only to have the Judge reprimand her more and double her sentence. In our rooms later that night, she would smile, laugh a little, and tell me it had to be said. Mom can be so exasperating at times.
She was really smart, like big sisters have to be. And just like Belle, she was an avid reader. In the time it took me to read one book, she could read every volume of the Baby Sitters Club. And for a girl who got a Needs Improvement in reading growing up, I loved that she would take the time to read to me. We shared a room growing up, and many nights, she would invite me into her bed, telling me to bring as many books as I could. We would pile up stories and one by one she would read to me until I fell asleep.
She was beautiful inside and out, like big sisters have to be. Just like Snow White, she had skin as white as snow. And like you, she tends to burn easily in the sun. Through the years, she’s gotten more and more beautiful, and better and better as posing for pictures. Rumor has it, she even invented the classic hand on hip pose.
Just like Sleeping Beauty, she was given the gift of song. A voice so beautiful, that my Dad would encourage her to sing with him many nights of the week as he accompanied her on the piano. She sang through grade school, high school and even college. And today, gives back so graciously to the St. Bede’s community as a cantor and member of their choir. I was envious of that natural, raw talent, particularly when I asked to sing with my dad and received the coaching that I was flat and changing key, yet again.
Most importantly though, just like Cinderella, she has always remained kind, caring, and a believer in happily ever after. Even when she faced ugliness in life, hardships, and a heart that was grieving, she had faith that true love would find her. And it did, A Prince, artist, Pitt super fan, lover of life and all of its ticketed events, named Joe came along on a kayak with the kind of spirited and selfless love that my sister needed. Because just like you, Mary, big sisters can have tough days, and sometimes they need a Mommy or Prince Charming to lift them up again.
Joe - I have never seen my sister so happy. She is glowing, not just today, but every day since the two of you met. Thank you for that.
I wish you a happily ever after today and all the days of your life.
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