There are two kinds of perfect: The one you can never achieve, and the other, by just being yourself.

It's funny, I thought after the wedding, the magical wedding yesterday, that this blog would be easy to write.

Thing is I don't like gushing. And there's very little I can say about Jamie and Breanna's wedding that wouldn't be gushing.

Oh, don't get me wrong...there were lots of glitches and hitches. The wedding had to be delayed by an hour because of a tropical rainstorm. (Aren't those magnificent though? Completely blue sky. Sudden clouds. Torrential rain for seven and half minutes. Blue sky. England could take a few lessons.)

Then there was The Wedding Crasher. Not a glitch but slightly weird. While waiting for the ceremony to start, before we were seated, she appeared. I think everyone thought that someone else knew her. There she was, chatting away, asking to be introduced, posing for photos with this person and that, at her request, taking photos herself. She didn't come to the wedding but later she was lurking outside the reception. Who she was, we'll never know.

I know what it was. She was entranced by the occasion, the presence of love, of families uniting, forgetting all their differences and all the humdrum worries that consume our every day life so often...and thinking, not about themselves, but about the wonder and the magic of Jamie and Breanna's marriage, in a fairytale setting that was real.

Gush alert!

Suffice to say, I believe it was the proudest day of my life to see my three sons, grown into such fine, handsome young men, behaving with such grace. And together for the first time in forever. To see Irene, my future daughter-in-law, beautiful and pregnant with my boy Laurie's baby, conducting the wedding ceremony with such elegance and charm. To know that Breanna was properly part of our family and we of hers.

How proud could one mummy be? Not any prouder than me.