I just saw the last family member off this afternoon. The bridal shower weekend is officially over. So that’s, like, done. And stuff.

You know, it occurred to me way back during the initial planning process that putting on a bridal shower was like a staging a wedding in miniature. Now that I’ve come through the other side, I understand just how right I was. To wit:

The last-minute crunch. The week before the shower was particularly crazed. I rushed around like a madwoman running errands, getting supplies, making favors, checking with vendors, communicating with traveling family, and just generally coordinating shit. Sound familiar? Yeah, I thought so too.

Things went uncontrollably awry. The dessert stand broke in the car on the way to the shower. Oh, and the place the shower was being hosted? The place I had visited in person two days earlier to confirm that they were still opening early for us? Yeah. We arrived to find the doors were locked and the lights were dark. No one was there. The place wasn’t clean, nothing was set up and guests were beginning to arrive. I had to make some frantic phone calls to get the owner down there. I nearly had a heart attack.

The urge to play hostess was overwhelming. I know it isn’t possible to ensure all of the people are happy all of the time, but that didn’t stop me trying. I spent the entire shower, nay, the entire weekend, attempting to make sure everyone had something to eat, something to drink, and someone to talk to. Talk about effort.

The unpredictable actions of others. My mother, I don’t know. She has a special way of driving me up a wall sometimes. Enough said.

Happy surprises abounded. Because of the snafu with the bar/café forgetting about our party, we got a few free bottles of wine, as well as a tray of shots. My friends? Adopted each other. My family? Adopted my friends. My aunts are still talking about how cool my friends are. Everyone was BFFs by the end of the day, which: AWESOME.* Best unplanned moment of the party was the spontaneous karaoke on the cafe’s patio. The song list included “Like a Prayer, “Thing Called Love,” even “Gin and Juice.” We ended up having so much fun at the shower that we all decided to go to dinner together. It was truly amazing, and I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

My emotions were out of control. I grinned like a fool. I cried — both happy and sad. I laughed my head off. I got mad and unfairly took it out on the beau. But my lowest of lows came at dinner the night of the shower. After we arrived, someone insisted that I move seats away from my friends. I sat there watching my friends have fun at the other end of the table, and something snapped. I started sobbing. I tried to step away and calm down, but the thought of returning to the table with a red face and glassy eyes just made me cry harder. Gah. I missed ordering any food and I spent most of dinner M.I.A. Not my shiningest moment, no.

My wing(wo)men came through. Hard. When that dessert stand broke, one quick-thinking brigadier made a last-second detour to pick up a substitute. When I broke down at dinner, another brigadier spent a substantial portion of her evening trying to talk me down from the edge. Both of them packed up the bridal shower gear after the party was over so I wouldn’t have to worry about it. I can’t thank them enough for sticking up for me.

Total overload. On the whole, the experience was totally draining, both physically and mentally. I haven’t been so thoroughly exhausted in a very long time. I wasn’t planning on taking Monday off, but when my very kind boss offered to let me, I agreed. And boy, was I glad I did. I slept 10 hours and spent the afternoon reading a book. A book!** I don’t think I’ve read a book since Christmas. It was my own personal post-shower honeymoon, and I was ever so glad for it.

And I am ever so glad it’s all over. But I’m also sad it’s all over, and I miss all my people who came out for it, terribly.

In summary, the bridal shower weekend totally felt like a test run for the wedding. The good news is that now I have about four months to figure out how to avoid the bad parts – or at least minimize them.

Yeah, good luck with that, right?

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* UPDATE: I remembered after publishing this that one of my friends and my cousin became SUCH BFFs that they went out drinking and karaoke-ing until 1 in the morning after the shower. Uh, yeah.

** It was Don Cherry’s Hockey Stories and Stuff, but still. It was still a book! With words! Printed on a page!