Wedding Crasher

Last weekend, I crashed my first wedding (that I can remember anyway). Before you write me off as a tacky chic, let me say that I can justify it a little. I promise that I didn’t show up at a random wedding and pretend to be a relative of Aunt Bertha. I also didn’t show up at a wedding where I was the long lost love of the groom hoping that he would call it off. Those two things, I wouldn’t do.

My cousin was the Maid-of-Honor in a wedding that was held here in San Diego. She stayed with us for the weekend. She invited Lexi, Jordan and me to go with her on Saturday. Normally, I would say no, but she had submitted an RSVP for her and her four kids. Unfortunately, she is going through a nightmarish divorce and last week the judge decided that her abusive (soon to be ex) husband should get the kids for the weekend. (That could launch me into several different topics, but I’ll refrain. It just gets my blood boiling.)

Anyway… we went to the wedding. I thought it might be a nice for her to have moral support and the distraction of my kids. Besides, this was the bride's fourth marriage and she is only 32. I figured that if it hadn’t happened before, it was time for someone to crash one of her weddings. What I hadn’t counted on was the fact that my cousin and I were seated at the bride & groom’s table. Oh well. Fortunately, the kids were all off at their own little party upstairs. I decided to play it pleasant, but quiet. I had a nice time, but still couldn’t help laughing at the bride when her nipple/boob popped out of her dress while she was on the dance floor. I turned my head and tried to hide my snickering.  Now you know, I am not only a wedding crasher, I laugh at others during embarrassing moments.

Who’s Your Daddy?

For some strange reason (most likely to get a little bit of a rise out of her parents), Lexi enjoys pointing at random men and asking, “Is that my dad?” She does it whether Steve is with us or not and in a perfectly serious mode. Of course, I prefer that she asks when he is with us. It can be quite embarrassing at times.

Like...when Lexi, Jordan, and I were at the Galleria mall having lunch. She pointed right at our waiter, who was Mexican (no signs of blonde genes), as he approached our table and blurted out, “Is that my dad.” Of course, I kindly reminded her that her dad was in a work meeting. I had to make sure that the waiter heard my response.

Lexi even does it to Steve. Yesterday, we were sitting on the steps at the water park when a family walked by. She pointed at the dad and asked Steve, “Is that my dad?”

He looked at me and just said, “I hope not!”

Then, I just had to say, “I am sure that guy wasn’t in Miami at the time.”

I must admit that it is kind of funny, even though strangers may feel sorry for the poor girl who must have a tramp for a mom.