A Letter to My Daughter for Her Wedding

My dear little gift from God,

There may be something you're wondering about. You have probably heard stories about how Mummy and Daddy went a little nutters when it came to buying clothing for you. You've probably heard how he purchased adorable hot-weather things in expensive shops in the UAE for you to wear-- the year England forgot to have summer.

You probably heard stories of how Mummy tried to break her blogging habit, only to replace it with ebay -- wildly pursuing pieces to complete your wardrobe. With shoes to match.

And yet, throughout your scrapbooks, there are hundreds of photos with you wearing a total of three outfits.
You were not neglected. You were not mistreated. You were not overlooked.

You were just a beast.
Take this outfit.
I put this on today and took a picture of you immediately. Because if you are true to past performances, you will soil it within the hour. At which point I will retire it. An outfit can only face the bleach pen so many times.

There was the first wearing where you made the monster poo within 20 minutes of getting dressed. The poo that ruined your car seat.
Mum, aka, "The Stain-er-nator" saved it.

There was the second wearing...
we thought that first poo was a mess.

The third wearing made it to lunch. To the point of you pulling your bib and protective lap covering off. I do believe Dad was supervising that meal....

Most recently you wore it (and your leather Nike trainers) for 10 minutes (after swimming in the pool all afternoon), and then climbed into the bath (shoes and all) with your brothers. No, it didn't get dirty going into the bathtub, but those beautiful little red poppies and ribbon accents are tired of going through our abusive washing machine.

So yes, you did have some cute outfits.
You did have a nice selection to choose from in your wardrobe.
You're just harder on some than others.

That is why I'm letting you fund your own Wedding Gown.

I'm sure you'll understand as the first smear of lipstick, the first glop of mashed potatoes, first splash of Sparkling cider hits that delicate fabric and lace.
Don't let it ruin your day and remember to look over at me once in a while.
I will be the woman in the clean, pressed, puke-free dress wearing a large smile.

Blog readers: While I uploaded the photos for this post? She insisted on climbing me and rubbed MY lipstick along the sleeve. Within two hours there was purple ink on the shirt.