Good thing we are not wedding planners

We have a wedding to attend next Saturday. Me and The Ultimate Other Half, just in case you thought I'm using a royal "we" here.

Originally Sir Sprout was supposed to join us. So, typically for first time mother all my preparations were circling around himself. I got him a cute outfit. Soft leather recommended-for-the-babies-under-the-age-of-two-for-
ensuring-healthy-feet-development booties. Adorable little baby braces. Backup outfit for those unpredictable food/barf related incidents.

The Ultimate Other Half didn't say a word.

I had visions of well behaved little angel sitting pertly on my knees while the blushing bride is swanning down the aisle, pausing for a moment just to take in the unearthly beauty of my precious child. I had bought a special not-quite-fancy-but-roomy-enough-to-take-extra-nappy-and-
packet-of-baby-wipes handbag. I was just about to start looking for plain white bibs to harmonize with his outfit.

The Ultimate Other Half still didn't say a word.

Then we sat down to discuss logistics.

"Do you know where the wedding invite is?" he asked.

I thought about it. Hard. No, I didn't.

"Where is the church? Do you remember?" he asked.

"Ermmm ... Ennis???" I guessed.

"Not in Mayo?"

"Or maybe it was Galway," I mused.

We looked at each other.

"We better find that invite," I came to a conclusion.

"Do you know what time is the church?" asked the Ultimate Other half.

I was starting to get a bit annoyed.

"How would I know?"

"Thought you might have remembered," he sighed.

Conclusion was the same. We better find that invite. (We did. Two days later.)

But Other Half had more questions.

"Are you sure the hotel room is booked?"

I was pretty sure. Almost. Not that I had booked it. Or checked. Or knew exactly what hotel we were staying in. So I said the only thing I could have said.

"I think so. Gotta ask Shelly."

The Ultimate Other Half seemed to be satisfied with that answer. Phew.

That's when we started talking about wedding itself.

Once we had got past the fact that Other Half needs a new shirt and that I will get shoes from Shelly the conversation steered towards the joys of juggling the baby and a wedding dinner.

Then it occurred to us that we'll probably miss it. Or at least a big part of it since Sir Sprout does not look kindly at major changes in his bath/bed time. And that unless we put up travel cot in the function room one of us needs to stay with baby while the other one gets merrily drunk.

There was a long sad silence.

"So what will we do?" I asked.

And that's how we decided to dump our bundle of joy with adoring grandparents and take on the wedding on our own. Be it in Ennis, Mayo or Galway.

He can practice his table manners there. Maybe we will take him next time.