One-track minds

Bryce has always loved animals, but over the summer, he became obsessed. He'd spend hours every day on the Jungle Mouse website and would get really frustrated when I couldn't answer his obscure questions about animals ("are possums more closely related to kangaroos or foxes, Mom?"). We visited way too many zoos (Brookfield, St. Louis, Hogle and Houston several times) and we all learned to tell the difference between fennix foxes and bat-eared foxes, discovered that vampire bats don't kill their prey, and tentatively planned next summer's vacation around visiting the giant pandas in Memphis.

Then, in August, school started again. Bryce still loves animals, still loves Jungle Mouse, and still occasionally has a fit when I can't answer his questions ("why aren't there any duck-billed platypuses in North American zoos?") but he's far less single-minded about the whole thing, thank goodness. We all breathed a collective sigh of relief as he began to pour over his yearbook for pictures of his friends and started to ride his scooter and play with transformers.

But also in August, someone else in the family took over with the exhausting one-track mind. My little sister got engaged and is getting married in May. I wouldn't be surprised (or begruding) if she were the one who could talk about nothing else, but she's not. She's pretty cool about the whole thing (other than wanting everything to be super-fancy and expensive, but that runs in the family). Instead, it's my mom who stays up nights thinking about tablecloths and calls me every day to discuss the pros and cons of various things like serving cream puffs or pound cake with the chocolate fountains.

Yesterday, for example, she and Jilly had been out to try on wedding dresses for the millionth time. On the way home from the bridal shop, she called me to tell me in detail about each of the six dresses my sister is considering. She's asking my opinion about 3/4-length sleeves v. cap sleeves (and it's not like my opinion matters at all, because Jilly is going to do exactly what she wants), satiny fabric v. matte silk, scalllops on the hem, etc... Meanwhile, she knows that I'm sitting at my computer playing the Busytown cd-rom with my cranky toddler, and I wonder if she thinks I'm really listening. Because I'm not. And it doesn't seem like she cares. Except for the fact that I can mutter "uh-huh" at appropriate intervals, it doesn't really seem like there's much purpose to my being on the other end of the phone at all.

You know those gorgeous pictures of the paintings in Maren's room I posted last week? You wanna know what I was doing the whole time my mom was working her magic? I was on the phone, calling all of the places my mom (a confirmed phoneaphobe) didn't want to call. I arranged for the honeymoon at a gorgeous B&B in Door County, WI, I conferred with the wedding coordinator, and I talked with several places in the environs of Nauvoo, IL about wedding luncheons and bridal suites (believe me, there aren't a lot of great places out there). I'm happy to do it, but felt sort of lame when people would ask who I was in relation to the bride and I'd be like, "oh, she's my sister, and I live in TX, so you'll end up doing most of your talking with either her or my mom, but they didn't feel like calling you."

Anyway, I know what the whole wedding is going to mean for everyone in the end. I'll be four months postpartum and still looking fat, squeezing my ugly body into some unflattering brown satiny thing that I'll be spending hundreds of dollars on, and plastering a smile on my face. My kids will be bummed about missing that last, all-important week of school when the fun things like pajama day take place. My sister and her fiance will be beautiful and happy. My mom will need a two-week vacation for herself to recuperate. And we'll all be broke. It looks like that trip to see the pandas might have to wait for another year.

--originally published 10/27/06