MARY ANN FITZMORRIS

Making an attire decision First Communion, for the Church, is an important sacrament. First Communion, for a Catholic family, is a lovely ritual. First Communion, for a child, is an exciting and unnerving event. First Communion, for a girl’s mother, is a chance to buy an awesome dress. This dress is important to a woman because she doesn’t get the chance to do this again until prom time, and by then her daughter has long since stopped listening to her input. No, First Communion is really the only time for a mom to dress her daughter in an incredible dress, in some cases, against her will. One woman I know drove 70 miles to take her daughter shopping. The mother chose the dress, and the girl didn’t like it. After listening to protests for the entire return trip, the mother wisely chose to drive back and get her daughter what she would be comfortable in; the one her daughter had chosen for herself. I decided early on to avoid such an unpleasant experience. So, I asked my daughter, who is quite an artist, to design her own dress. It was hard not to gasp when I saw it. It was loaded with “stuff.” Big flowers, little flowers, a belt, flowers on the belt, lace on the hem. A shopping trip to a fabric store was equally scary. She wanted absolutely everything white in the store to be on this one dress. This would not be a fight, I told myself. I would do as another friend had done. We would go shopping, and I would keep my mouth shut. My friend described a day-long shopping trip where her daughter tried on four or five dresses. My friend definitely had a strong preference, but she held her opinion until the very end. Her daughter chose one mom liked, and it was one of the least expensive. That made my friend like it even more. We wound up actually making several trips to a fabric store, at which point my daughter tired of the whole experience, and threw it in my lap. “Make whatever you like,” she declared. That made me feel a little guilty, but I wasn’t trying to discourage her into abandoning the project. Nevertheless, I was happily on my own. As it turned out, the dress was a tasteful version of the one she had drawn! The bodice had a scattering of large and small flowers which were hand-sewn at the center with a pearl inserted. There was a large ribbon which resembled the belt she drew. The edge of the full skirt had a scattered border of the same flowers used on the bodice. To veil or not to veil? That was the next big question to be settled. Here we had a distinct difference of opinion, but again, I would let her decide. Unfortunately, she held on to her desire to skip the veil and have one of those crowns that are the fashion of today. Such hairpieces did not exist for my First Communion. I distinctly remember wearing a veil, and, for the sake of tradition, I wanted her to wear one as well. Aside from the veil nostalgia, I didn’t have the slightest idea how to make one of those headpieces. But my worries were needless. That crown turned out to be the easiest thing of all to make. I was done in less than half an hour. She wanted flowers on her socks, as well! So I took some of the trinket flowers we bought, just in case, and attached them to the top of her socks in only one spot. Luckily, the only shoes we could find were totally plain. On First Communion day, I immediately realized why the crown was so simple and quick to make. I had left out a very important part of the headpiece. There was no way to attach the crown to her head. She was plagued with the thing falling off for the entire ceremony, and actually received Communion wearing it upside down. And that, I’m sorry to say, is my most distinct recollection of the ceremony. Some mothers watched the whole ceremony, focusing on the reverence of it all. But those were the mothers of boys. MARY ANN FITZMORRIS writes this column every Saturday for L’Observateur.