**Diary Entry – 13th June**
My name is Emily. I’m twenty-nine, and in a month, I’ll have one of the most important days of my life—my wedding. James and I have been together three years, spent ages planning, saving, arguing over venues, dresses, and photographers. Just when it all seemed to finally fall into place, the real trouble started: family drama.
It’s simple, really. James and I agreed early on: no small children at the wedding. No toddlers, no babies in prams, no “Mum, he spilled juice on me!” Just adults. Why? Because I went to my cousin Sophie’s wedding last year. Absolute chaos. Shrieking kids, trampled veils, juice-stained tablecloths, and the bride crying in a corner because some chocolatey handprint found its way onto her dress. No one’s fault—kids get bored, restless. Parents? Too busy chasing them to enjoy the day.
I refuse to let my wedding turn into a circus. I want to dance, laugh, not fret over some tiny hand yanking my earrings or tipping Ribena onto my ivory heels. I want a celebration for us, for our friends—not a glorified playdate with nappies and tantrums.
I was upfront. From the first invites, I made it clear: “Adults only, please. We love the little ones, but this is our night.” Polite, firm. Still, it sparked outrage.
Mum led the charge. “You’re being selfish,” she said. “How d’you expect your aunt to leave her three-year-old? Or your brother to ditch their newborn? They won’t come unless the kids do.”
Now I’m stuck. On one side: my dream. A wedding without shrieks, where we dance till dawn, where I’m not just “the bride” but a woman enjoying her night. On the other: family. People I love, who won’t bend. I’m not asking them to abandon their children—just one evening. One.
Mum’s guilt-tripping. “A wedding’s for family,” she says, “not just you.” But why should their expectations trump my peace? Why must I spend my day watching for toddlers near the cake or the fountain?
They’ve drawn the line: “Kids or we don’t come.” Meanwhile, I’m staring at my reflection, wedding dress on, eye twitching from stress, wondering: if they’d rather skip it than compromise, what does that say?
Why must the couple always accommodate everyone else? Why can’t grown-ups, just once, think less about nappy bags and more about champagne toasts? About swaying to *our* song?
I won’t rewrite my dream. I won’t hire entertainers or turn my bridesmaids into babysitters. This isn’t a school fête. It’s my wedding. And I’ve every right to want it my way.
So tell me—am I a monster for wanting one child-free night? Or just brave enough to say what others won’t? If missing a single evening makes me the villain, maybe the bonds weren’t as strong as I thought.
**Lesson learnt:** Love shouldn’t come with conditions—especially not on your wedding day.