James talked to his parents last night. The topic of discussion was his Mom’s disappointment with our wedding photos and other wedding-related let-downs. His parents missed the cake-cutting, and I can understand being a little sad to miss that, but the timing on that kind of got screwed up through no fault of our own. His Mom was also upset that there weren’t more “posed” family pictures on their side. But what happened was this: my parents just kept pulling the photographer aside, often without my knowledge, and he gladly took some shots of whoever they wanted him to. His parents could have easily done the same, but they didn’t know it was “allowed” and neither my husband or myself thought to tell them. We didn’t think about it at all because we trusted our photographer and knew that we would get awesome shots, and we didn’t want a lot of posed portraits–that’s why we picked him.
I had a great time at our wedding. We had a fantastic party–everyone I talked to at the time and afterward told me they had a great time, and you can totally see it in the pictures. We are now happily married and working on building a solid relationship and future together. And we both are very pleased with how everything turned out, even if it didn’t go exactly like we expected. And we absolutely LOVE the pictures. Which is what really matters.
But now his mom’s claiming that she felt like she had no part in the planning of the wedding and didn’t get as much out of it as she thought she should have. For one thing, they didn’t pay for much, which was not a big deal, but because my parents were the ones writing the checks, they were more involved by default. For another thing, I was talking to my mother-in-law quite often about all the things that were going on. I felt like I was being open and honest and really including her in the whole process. I guess I wasn’t… or what I did do didn’t count.
But James tried to make a point to his father, who was mediating, saying he’s sick of nothing ever being good enough for her. When they go out to eat, she orders something that looks good off the menu, and when asked how it is, she makes a face like she should’ve ordered something else or she’d rather not be eating at all. But she never actually complains until afterwards in the car. She didn’t take an active role or seem to want one at the time of planning our wedding, but after the fact, somehow everything didn’t taste right. And now, there’s not a thing to be done about it. Except dwell on it and refuse to see the good from the day.