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Wednesday, 17 January 2007 06:52 |
| The Advice Goddess
Amy Alkon |
My daughter is getting married this month, and weëre having a formal evening reception featuring champagne and dancing. On the invitation, we stated "Adult Reception." You cannot imagine the trauma this has caused. We donët have the budget to have lots of children at the reception, but more importantly, my daughter, her fiance, and I feel a formal evening event is not appropriate for children. Were we out of line, and do we need to apologize?
ÇƒÓ Mother Of The Bride-To-Be
Well,
excuse you if the last two words you want to hear at your daughterës
wedding are "FOOOOD FIGHT!" And maybe, just maybe youëd like to avoid
having some parent pull you aside at the reception and whisper, "You
donët think the bridesmaidsë dresses are flammable, do you? My
8-year-oldës in her arson phase again."
Who says America
isnët a monarchy? Itës ruled by millions of tiny tyrants named Cody and
Madison, presiding over adult-sized serfs called parents whose single
greatest fear is not being liked by their children. Such parents have
their uses. No, not setting boundaries, but filling toy orders, nodding
submissively at their childrenës self-revised bedtimes, and sweeping up
meatloaf and peas hurled on the floor and replacing them with Cocoa
Krispies with a side of Snickers in chocolate sauce.
Parents like
these are convinced that the world revolves around their children, and
they canët understand why your wedding should be any different: A
little cake, a little champagne, and little Amber yelling out in the
middle of the father of the brideës toast, "Mommy, Jason cut one!" "Did
not!" "Did too!"
The truth is, even well-behaved kids are still kids:
at times, whiney, ornery, fidgety attention-piggies.
The bottom line is
that this event is not being catered by Ronald McDonald, and will not
feature kiddie karaoke, games of Super Soak The Groom, or Pin The Tail
On The Bride. Accordingly, you tactfully informed your guests that
youëre having an "Adult Reception" instead of getting more to the
point: "Leave your loud, underparented brats at home."
Quite frankly,
youëre doing the rest of us a favor by setting limits for the savages.
Because people get tweaked about it doesnët mean theyëre right and
youëre wrong. (Itës your party, you can ban crying babies if you want
to ÇƒÓ and shy, angelic 13-year-olds, too.) Think about what these people
are asking; essentially, "Hey! Whereës my kidës free dinner and
entertainment?!" Itës the height of rudeness. And now, ask yourself
something: What kind of person goes through "trauma" over a subtly
worded hint that an elegant champagne formal is no place for children?
Who else? The parents who are last to understand that having their
particular kids in attendance means youëll not only need monogrammed
napkins and place cards, but precut strips of monogrammed duct tape to
bind and gag the little darlings when they act out.
As for any
parents who get indignant at the need to hire a sitter, if this was
going to be an issue, they shouldëve used protection. That said, if
some of your guests are coming from afar and bringing their children,
you might want to provide a list of baby-sitters, or even set up a
baby-sitting service in a hotel room or at somebodyës house. But
apologize? Please. You may as well send out revised invitations that
say, "Why stop at the kids? Why not bring your Saint Bernard? And, hey
. . . while youëre at it, truck over your daughterës life-sized robotic
pony so she can gallop circles around the bride and her father while
they share the first dance."
Guest who?
Iëm a happy,
successful, 35-year-old guy, perfectly comfortable with my single
status. Around the holidays especially, I get party invitations
addressed to me "& Guest" ÇƒÓ a stipulation I really hate. I donët
have an "& Guest," and it makes replying stressful. Because our
society glorifies couplehood, it almost seems everything nowadays
isolates the unattached. Do you think itës almost like party-givers
donët want the uncommitted around?
ÇƒÓ Solo Flyer
Terrorism.
Grinding poverty. World hunger. Flesh-eating bacteria. "& Guest."
For a guy whoës "perfectly comfortable" with his single status, you
sure get your panties in a wad over how your party invites are
addressed. Why would your friends do such a thing? Um, to be
considerate, to give you options, because you might want a wingman or
know a homebound lonely friend? Come on, the invite merely says "&
Guest," not "Grab your grandma, a homeless crackhead, inflatable Judy,
or your pet hamster ÇƒÓ anyone or anything ÇƒÓ just donët come alone."
Sure, society glorifies couplehood and all that. But, if thereës
anything isolating you, Mr. Happily Single, itës probably the fact that
most people get the occasional piece of lint on their sweater ÇƒÓ while
it seems you brushed up against a giant wooden cross thatës now
permanently stuck to your back.
ï
Got a problem?
Write Amy Alkon, 171 Pier Ave, No. 280, Santa Monica, CA 90405, or
e-mail AdviceAmy-at-aol.com (www.advicegoddess.com).
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