I feel a little guilty; I really have no right to say much about being mother of the bride (MOB). My daughter and fiancé did most of their wedding planning, yet as the day grew closer, my role seemed to increase. Little text bombs started arriving in my phone: “There’s a surprise $2500 fee on the venue contract, what’s that for?!” “We need to find more family photos!” “The wine didn’t show! Where is it?!” I took deep breaths, reminding myself to slow down. These weren’t emergencies, even when they felt like they were.

I asked my daughter to start running things by me; I could prevent reinventing the proverbial wheel: “I can’t reach the event director, she hasn’t responded to texts or emails!” she’d write. “Call her!” I insisted (a startling idea to a millennial, but one that worked). “We need a dry cleaner to press the dress and suit the day before! And someone to drive the clothes over!” “Ask the hotel, they’ll do it in-house, don’t work so hard!” I........

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