How The Royal Wedding Makes Me Want a Sandwich

I turned on the TV today so SK could watch a little Clifford. I must’ve hesitated a bit too long on coverage leading up to the royal wedding, because SK finally turned to me and said, “Mom, are they married yet? Why not?” I guess Wills and Kate have been a part of the household conversations more than I’d like to admit.

I just finished reading Peggy Orenstein’s Cinderella Ate My Daughter, which is all about the effects of the girly-girl culture–with all its princesses and glitter wands and glossy perfection–on girls growing up today. It basically reinforced every fear both David and I have had about the “girlie” stuff and validated my defensive pride when SK opts for Lightning McQueen instead of My Little Pony. I am a modern woman, I think, and therefore an aware mom. Yes, my daughter asks to paint her nails, but by golly she’ll go kick around a soccer ball before the polish has dried. We are rising above, dagnabit!


Please. I’m so full of baloney that you could make a sandwich out of my contradictions. I hereby admit that I’ve become totally fascinated by all this royal wedding hullabaloo. And I can’t even try to pretend I’m merely interested in the, let’s say, social dialogue prompted by this event. Pshhh. I want to see Kate’s dress. I want to see how her hair is styled, and–gasp!–if indeed she has someone else do her make up. I admit it. The pageantry, the horses, the excited crowds–it all has sort of swallowed me up in it’s out-of-the-ordinariness. Mostly, though, I think of how it’s going to be for her to approach that church. Dave and I kept our wedding to 100 people, and even then, I was so out-of-my-mind nervous about walking up the aisle in front of all those people that I thought I was going to pass out:


So how is the future Princess Catherine going to handle all of this, with a third of the world watching? I’m willing to bet that other people are wagering that she’ll upchuck as soon as she steps out of the car. But I digress. I know, I don’t want my own daughters growing up thinking that all they have to do is be pretty so that some Prince Charming can sweep them off their dainty, polished feet. But I do have to admit that, when faced with two baskets full of laundry to fold and diaper pails that need to be emptied–all while wearing a ponytail because even the very idea of actually drying my hair seems like too much effort today–it’s kind of neat to wonder what it’s like to wear a diamond tiara, if just for a few hours. 


So that’s how I qualify it. There’s a part of me who truly hopes that these two people I don’t know really will love each other forever. The other part is just giddy that I get to have a quiet house to myself for a few hours, wonder how much her dress cost, and ooh and ahh over all the flowers. So if you’ll excuse me, I have some baking to do. If I’m going to be eating my words at 5 tomorrow morning, I’d like some scones to go with them.

2 COMMENTS

  1. He Wants to Build a Snowman | One Vignette | 6th May 14

    […] the princess stuff, and luckily (for us–this is just how we feel, for our family. If you read Peggy Orenstein’s Cinderella Ate My Daughter, you’ll see why we get all quietly rage-y about it), the girls […]

  2. Yes, I’m Comparing My Girls to the Duchess of Cambridge | One Vignette | 20th May 11

    […] Vignette Life on the small scale: a story at a time Skip to content HomeAbout Me ← >How The Royal Wedding Makes Me Want a Sandwich >The Stick-Shift Diaries […]

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