I wanted to plan the perfect wedding for my daughter, but her future mother-in-law had her own vision. What began as a joyful preparation soon spiraled into a battlefield, where every decision became a point of conflict. The dream of a perfect day started slipping away as tensions arose.
When my daughter and her fiancé announced they were getting married, I was thrilled! Leslie and Scott were made for each other, and I couldn’t wait to dive into the wedding plans.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
But I wasn’t the only one eager to get involved. Scott’s mother, Jane, was just as enthusiastic about the wedding as I was. We had met before at a few family gatherings, but we weren’t particularly close.
Still, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have some extra help, so I agreed to let her organize the wedding with me.
It wasn’t long before I started to regret that decision. The first sign of trouble came when we went to pick out Leslie’s wedding dress. I knew my daughter’s style — simple, elegant, and classic.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
That’s why I suggested dresses that reflected her personality, ones I knew she would love. But Jane had other ideas. She insisted that Leslie needed the most extravagant dress she could find, something that screamed luxury and opulence.
When Leslie stepped out of the dressing room in that voluminous gown, I could hardly believe my eyes. It was so big that it looked like she took up the entire room.
“Oh, you look stunning!” Jane exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she admired the dress.
I couldn’t hold back my reaction. “She looks like a marshmallow!” I protested. The dress was huge, engulfing Leslie in layers of fabric.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Jane turned to me, her voice firm. “No, she looks like a princess!” she insisted, her tone leaving no room for doubt.
Leslie looked at herself in the mirror, clearly unsure. “I’m not sure…” she murmured, almost to herself.
“My daughter is not getting married in that dress!” I declared, unable to contain my frustration.
“And my son would be very happy to see his wife in such a dress!” Jane snapped back, her tone sharp.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“That’s not for you to decide!” I retorted, feeling protective of Leslie and her choices.
Leslie, finally speaking up, said, “And it’s definitely not up to either of you. I think I’ll go with the previous option.”
“At least try on the dress I picked,” I urged, hoping she would reconsider.
“Mom, I’ve already made my choice,” Leslie said firmly as she headed back to the dressing room.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Jane sighed. “It’s a shame she didn’t like that gown,” she muttered.
“I won’t let you turn my daughter into a joke,” I replied, the words escaping before I could stop them.
Jane looked at me coldly. “I don’t have to; you’re doing a fine job of that yourself,” she shot back.
I gasped, unable to believe she had said that. Before I could respond, Jane simply reached for the champagne and took a sip, ignoring me.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The further we got into wedding preparations, the worse the arguments with Jane became. Every detail turned into a battle. We were supposed to be planning the happiest day of our children’s lives, but it felt like a war.
The tension reached a peak when we arrived at Scott and Leslie’s place to finally decide on the wedding venue.
Jane was the first to speak. “I suggest holding the ceremony at the church Scott attended as a child,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “It’s a very special place for our family.”
I could feel my frustration rising. “I’m against it,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I suggest having the ceremony outdoors. Make it special for everyone.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Jane turned to me, her expression one of disbelief. “Where’s the spirituality in that?” she asked, her tone cold.
“This is a wedding, not a confession,” I shot back. I was tired of her always pushing her ideas as if they were the only ones that mattered. “Besides, the priest wouldn’t allow the devil into the church,” I added, throwing a sharp look in her direction.
Jane didn’t miss a beat. “Then you can stand outside,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing.
I clicked my tongue, refusing to back down. “We could hold the ceremony on a cliff by the beach,” I suggested with a smirk. “If we’re lucky, Jane might fall off.”
“Mom, stop it,” Leslie interrupted, her voice strained. I could see she was getting upset, and I hated that this was what her wedding planning had come to.
Scott, who had been quiet up until now, suddenly spoke up. “I agree with my mother; the wedding should be in the church,” he said, his tone final.
I blinked in surprise. “What? Since when?” I asked, turning to Leslie. “We talked about having a beach ceremony just yesterday.”
“And now I’ve realized that I want to get married in my church,” Scott replied, crossing his arms as if daring anyone to challenge him.
“But I don’t want to get married in a church! I want my wedding to be beautiful!” Leslie shouted, her voice trembling.
Jane stepped in, her voice dripping with sweetness that felt anything but. “A wedding in a church can be beautiful too,” she insisted, acting as if she knew what was best for everyone.
“A wedding in a church looks very depressing,” I said, shaking my head. The idea of my daughter getting married in such a somber place felt wrong.
“Nothing’s depressing about it,” Scott fumed, clearly taking my words as a personal attack.
“I don’t want to have my wedding where they hold funerals!” Leslie shouted, her frustration boiling over.
Jane, never one to back down, added fuel to the fire. “Scott also has a say in YOUR wedding,” she said emphasizing “your,” making it clear she didn’t see it that way.
“Exactly!” Scott jumped in, his face red with anger. “You make all the decisions, and when I want something, you don’t listen!”
Leslie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Seriously? I don’t listen to you?!” she yelled back. “We ordered that horrible cake only because the baker is your mother’s friend!”
“But you and your mother decide everything else!” Scott shouted, his frustration spilling out.
“Because I want a beautiful wedding, not some tacky mess!” Leslie cried, tears starting to form in her eyes.
“And I want to have a say in my own wedding!” Scott yelled, his voice echoing through the room.
The tension in the room was unbearable. Then, Leslie blurted out words that shocked us all. “Maybe we shouldn’t get married at all then?!”
Scott didn’t hesitate. “You know what?! Maybe we shouldn’t!” he shouted back.
The room fell silent. Leslie froze, staring at Scott in shock, then turned to me with tears in her eyes. “Let’s go, Mom,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
As we left the house, I knew I had to help Leslie see that she was making a mistake. “Sweetheart, I know wedding planning is stressful, but you don’t have to end it like this. You can work it out, find a compromise,” I said gently.
Leslie turned to me, her eyes filled with frustration. “Are you serious, Mom? You’re the one saying that? You and Jane argue about everything! It feels like it’s your wedding, not mine and Scott’s,” she replied, her voice tinged with anger and hurt.
I realized she was right. Jane and I had become so wrapped up in the wedding planning that we lost sight of what truly mattered.
This was Leslie and Scott’s special day, and they deserved to make the decisions that would shape their future together.
How could I let my daughter lose the love of her life because of our petty arguments? I felt a deep sense of guilt wash over me.
Leslie and Scott’s happiness was more important than any disagreement Jane and I had. I knew I had to step back and let them take the lead.
The next day, Jane and I met at a coffee shop. I knew we needed to talk, to figure out how to fix the mess we had created.
“We’ve made a big mistake,” I began, looking at her directly.
Jane nodded, her face serious. “I know. We need to get them back together before it’s too late.”
I shook my head slightly. “They broke up because we were too involved. We pushed too hard, and it’s not our place to decide things for them.”
Jane opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself. “But…”
“We need to give them space,” I said firmly. “This is their life, their wedding. They need to make the decisions.”
Jane sighed, then nodded. “You’re right. But we should at least get them in the same room, give them a chance to talk.” I agreed, hoping it wasn’t too late to make things right.
That’s why, half an hour later, Scott and Leslie were sitting at our table in the coffee shop. Both of them looked upset, their arms crossed, refusing to even glance at each other.
The tension was thick, and I could see the stubbornness in their eyes.
“I don’t want to talk to him,” Leslie said, her voice cold.
“And I don’t want to talk to her,” Scott echoed, sounding just as frustrated.
I took a deep breath and leaned forward. “Then listen,” I said firmly, hoping they’d hear the seriousness in my tone.
Jane, sitting beside me, nodded in agreement. “We’ve decided that we’re no longer going to interfere with the wedding planning or your lives,” she said, her voice softer than usual.
I jumped in, trying to show that we were united on this. “Yes, you two should do everything the way you like. Find the compromises that work for you.”
Leslie looked up at Scott for the first time. “I want a beach wedding,” she said, her voice calmer, but still determined.
Scott met her gaze. “But we’ll be married by a priest,” he replied.
Leslie paused, then slowly nodded. Without another word, she leaned in and kissed Scott. I could see the relief wash over both of them.
“I thought this would be harder,” I whispered to Jane, surprised at how quickly they agreed.
“Me too,” Jane replied, sharing my surprise.
Leslie smiled with a hint of mischief in her eyes. “I told you this plan would work,” she said, looking at Scott.
Scott rolled his eyes but smiled back. “Yes, yes. You’re always right.”
Jane furrowed her brow, confused. “What are you talking about?” she asked, glancing between them.
Scott shrugged. “We were fed up with you two constantly interfering in the wedding planning and arguing. So, we decided to stage a fight to get you two to make up.”
Leslie grinned. “And it worked,” she added.
I blinked in surprise. “So, you weren’t really fighting?” I asked, and they both shook their heads.
Jane’s eyes widened. “And I already called the baker to cancel the cake order,” she said, realizing what she’d done.
Leslie’s smile dropped. “What? No, I loved our cake!” she exclaimed.
I felt my frustration rise again. “Why did you do that? I told you not to interfere,” I said, unable to hide my irritation.
Jane looked sheepish. “I did it for your daughter,” she mumbled.
I sighed, shaking my head. “Can’t you stop interfering?!” I snapped, feeling the tension flare up again.
Scott and Leslie theatrically cleared their throats, reminding us they were still there.
Jane and I exchanged a glance before saying in unison, “Sorry.”
Jane sighed, leaning back in her chair. “It will take time for us to learn how to compromise,” she admitted.
I reached out and took Leslie’s hand. “But we both love you very much,” I said, meaning every word.