We are entering the wedding stage of life - better put, re-entering. Since our own wedding we've been on sabbatical, during which time we experienced all other stages - from the baby shower to the kindergarten and high school graduation stages and everything in between. Now, the cycle has come full circle, and I do believe we're back to weddings. (Cue "Here Comes the Bride.")

We're attending a number of nuptials in the near future, but one in particular has piqued our interest: the wedding of our daughter. This, in turn, means one thing - wedding plans.

I am overwhelmed by the scope of planning opportunities available through an average wedding today. But there is one element that has me focused to the point of distraction. The dress.

Not hers. Mine.

I've completed numerous shopping trips - online and to real live stores where I tried various necklines, hemlines and waistlines. I found one I seriously considered getting but then had second thoughts. This has happened three or four times. In the meantime, the bridesmaids have chosen and bought their dresses. They'll look fabulous. The flower girls have theirs. They'll be adorable. My husband and sons have all purchased brand new suits. They'll be the definition of handsome. Even my daughter has said yes to The Dress. It's gorgeous and she'll be magnificent.

I'm still looking.

Don't get me wrong. I understand the overall insignificance of my decision. I'm the mother of the bride for goodness sakes. People won't care about what I wear. All eyes will be on my sweet baby girl. As they should be.

Still, I have just one daughter and this is my only shot at filling the role of MOTB. The more I go through life, the more I realize these moments shouldn't be squandered. It is an important day, and I want to feel good in my skin (or lace over satin, as the case may be).

So, while this whole dress ordeal isn't important to anyone else, it is to me. There are numerous beautiful choices to choose from. I've been contemplating why I'm having such a hard time with the decision. It's pretty simple, really.

I'm not sure I'm ready to be the mother of the bride. My daughter is ready. Her betrothed is ready. They are a beautiful couple. We love them both.

I, however, have always been a little stunted. It seems I'm perpetually playing catch-up when it comes to understanding the logic of this thing called life. Most people are able to look ahead and anticipate milestones. I live in the day (but usually not by choice). I am still shocked that my daughter is a grown-up. I thought she'd be a little girl forever. But that is not the case (thank goodness), and now I am soon-to-be the mother of the bride.

Except I'm not old enough, not ready enough to be the mother of the bride. At least not in my mind. The numbers would prove otherwise. (How and when did this happen?)

This brings about such tugging feelings. I don't feel appropriately mature to be right here right now. But I am. That's life.

And I need a dress.

I know I will find one. Perhaps I already have. I just need to pull the trigger, or swipe the plastic - if we are being honest. Which I will do. I've got to wear something. The alternative wouldn't be pretty. But we don't want to go there.

I best get shopping.



- Jill Pertler's column appears Thursdays in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.