To say that I was a little stressed out by the time my wedding rolled around was a minor understatement. I was panicked at work, where my boss was not pleased with my dedication to wedding plans outside the hours of 9 am to 5 pm. DH, a former Lubavitcher, wanted nods to an Orthodox wedding. While I wasn't strictly against many of the things he wanted (ie Kosher food, his Philadelphia rabbi, etc.), the details of traditions with which I was unfamiliar made me especially nervous.

I should explain, too, that when I met DH, he wasn't all that close with his parents, a concept I didn't much get. His parents got divorced when he was in college, and while the divorce itself wasn't amicable, they eventually got along enough to be in touch. But DH's decision to follow Lubavitch teachings were not accepted well by his parents, and he had a pretty hard time with them. Then, when he sprung on his dad that he met a girl on the Internet and was moving to Chicago to marry her, his dad was understandably skeptical.

And then, early in the year of our wedding, his dad decided he wouldn't attend. It wasn't so much an idealogical protest, his mom explained, as that he just didn't feel comfortable "dealing with it."

To say DH was hurt didn't encompass it. He didn't talk much about it, but we were all destroyed for him. My own father, who had really tough issues with his abusive dad, felt just awful and said basically that he knew he could never take DH's dad's place, but he wanted DH to know that he would be there for him.

After a few weeks of emotional turmoil, it was announced that Alex had changed his mind and would, after all, attend. Woo hoo.

Anyway, back to the wedding. As I mentioned, we planned to fly in DH's rabbi from Philly for the wedding, as well as his best friend Roger. We spoke with the rabbi (Menachem) on the phone several times, in preparation. The only things he asked of me were that I wear a dress that wasn't too revealing for the ceremony (not an issue), and go to the mikvah before the wedding (more of an issue, but I did it and I'm glad I did). It was decided that the week before the wedding, DH and I could not be in direct contact. Which was awkward, because we were living together. Through my contacts, I snagged a room at the Union League Club, and it was decided that I would stay there the first half of the week, and we would switch that Thursday.

The wedding was scheduled for Sunday, June 16th. Friday night, my parents held a barbecue for all out-of-town guests. On Saturday, my mom, MIL and I were to get our nails done. Saturday night, the rehearsal dinner was being held on the Wendella, which would pick up the guests at the Michigan Avenue dock, take them up the river, and then back out onto Lake Michigan.

Within a few weeks of the wedding, other traditions appeared that we needed to follow. DH was to attend Shabbat services on Saturday morning, where the local Lubavitch congregation was to host an Ufruf; a kind of celebration of the groom. Normally, it's sponsored by the groom's father, and it involves a kiddush (blessing with wine and snacks) as well as a tradition where the congregation pelts the groom with candies and nuts (to wish him a sweet and protein-filled life, I suppose).

My father offered to stand in for DH and sponsor the Ufruf, and we were dispatched to the kosher candy and nut store in Skokie to purchase the proper sweets, while my dad bundled off to Sam's Wines to get more kosher wine.

DH basically told his parents they could come in as early as they'd like, and let them know all the activities that were going on. I was packing to leave my hotel room on Thursday before the wedding when my MIL called, in a panic. The Hyatt Regency didn't have her reservation, and she was furious. Apparently, this was all my fault -- because I didn't reserve her room for her.

What? Since when is that my job? I didn't even know when they were coming? Somehow, my mom got involved and had it all taken care of. But that just fed the slow burn that began a week earlier, when my hairdresser cancelled on me, saying he hadn't realized my wedding was on Father's Day and he just couldn't be there. My MIL's response? "Who's going to braid my hair?" HER hair.

(Deep breath.)

Okay. Now we're at Saturday morning before the wedding. Mom and I are at her manicurist's, a little space in an office building off Michigan Avenue. My Ballet Slippers fingernails are drying, as our my pale blue toes. I'm lamenting the fact that I spent seven months trying to grow my nails for my wedding day, only to have to cut them all off to go to the mikvah. We're reading the National Enquirer's and laughing. My MIL comes in and sits between us. She wants to know if I can find her a fabric store so she can buy some "grosgrain ribbon" to put on her hat for the wedding. No, frankly, I can't. Sorry. Getting married and all.

"You know," she says. "Alex is very upset that DH has left him out of all the wedding events. He really didn't include his father at all, and I think it's just shameful."

Being the lady I am, I naturally lost my temper.

"Well FUCK Alex and you too!" I shouted. "He had every opportunity to participate in this wedding, which, may I remind you, he had no intention of even attending a few months ago because he just 'couldn't handle it.' How do you think it made DH feel to have his dad decide he didn't want to show up for his wedding? And to have his parents be so passive that they couldn't make their own fucking hotel reservations? That you didn't care about being involved enough to make your own goddamned flight [totally true, they missed their flight in]? How do you think he feels having his future father-in-law attend a Lubavitch ufruf because his own dad doesn't feel like it? And you have the raw nerve to stand there and complain about him? Let me tell you something.... in 24 hours I am marrying your son. And I won't let you say a goddamned word against him. If you don't like it, then you can fucking well leave!"

"Surprise!" My mom's best friend Carol comes in at this very instant with a big tray of hors d'ouevres and two bottles of champagne from Mitchell Cobey.

Silence, as they say, enveloped the room. My MIL, chastened, looked down and didn't speak. Carol passed out the champers and food, while I began a quiet panic. DH was going to kill me! I totally bitched out his mom -- in public -- a day before the wedding! Shit!

Well, my mom and Carol did their best to keep us separated until everyone's nails were done, and I kept a fairly low profile until that evening, when we all pretended nothing had happened. DH couldn't attend the rehearsal or dinner for fear of seeing me and having G-d's wrath strike us dead, so it was a fun party but a little weird to not have the groom with me.

It wasn't until Sunday night, hours after the wedding, that I got the chance to admit to DH that I'd verbally bitch-slapped his mom. I cowered, awaiting my punishment.

"You defended me!" he said, in wonderment.

Damn right, I did. Nobody picks on my man but me, baby.

["I Hope You Dance," LeeAnn Womack]