By: Yasmin Hassan, Staff Writer

I’ve seen some catty shit in my line of work. Bridezillas, cheating grooms, unsavoury uncles; you name it, I’ve seen it. When it comes to being a wedding photographer, you are there to capture every single piece of the joyous day the couple will want to cherish and keep forever. Some mothers apparently also want to cherish and keep something forever, and that “something” is their beloved sons. I don’t know what kind of Freudian oxytocin-induced perspective of life those women have, but boy, is it entertaining. 

I was hired for this wedding by a lovely couple of two young men, Jacob and Sean. It’s always a pleasure to see people freely enjoy their special day. Jacob’s mother, Martha, seemed like a nice lady; she kept to herself whenever she wasn’t talking to her son or shunning her husband. Sean’s mom, Linda, was loud and boisterous but didn’t seem too bad, just extraverted. But, whenever they interacted, I always sensed a disturbing tension.

I had heard of (and witnessed) the phenomenon of Boy Moms, but never quite like this. When the reception started, I ran around with my camera, trying to get good shots of the gorgeous scene. In strolls Martha, wearing what she called a “porcelain, off-white lace” dress and the most extravagantly ornamented Jimmy Choo’s you’ve ever seen. Then, Linda walks in wearing what she described as a “milky, alabaster patterned” dress and the “snowiest” pair of Manolo Blahnik’s I’d ever seen (Carrie Bradshaw could never). They shot each other the NASTIEST look, the kind of look that even the Montagues and Capulets couldn’t replicate. But they kept smiling as they both held onto the arms of their respective son.

As the night went on, I snapped a few shots of the speeches, and then came the super moms. Martha talked about how she went to prom with “her stud muffin” every year, even after he came out and had a boyfriend. And how now she can’t bear to think that she’s not “her little man’s  number one.” Then it was Linda’s turn, scoffing at Martha as she walked to the podium. She spoke about how, before Sean came out, she would plot against his girl friends and how, one time, she “got a bit intense” and tried to “protect her sugar booger” by swinging a bat at Sean’s best friend, Ashley. Ashley was sitting in the second row in a cold sweat. Martha then stood up and said, “Oh yeah? Well, have you ever hidden in the trunk of your son’s car when he went out on his first date in the 12th grade?” 

Linda rebutted, “You’ve never driven across the country to a different state just to do your son’s laundry while he was in college!” 

Martha spat, “You’ve never EVER made a 59-page legal contract for anyone your son dates!”

At some point, after various twangy insults were thrown across the room, they started fistfighting each other, and all Jacob and Sean (or anyone for that matter) could do was stare. After the flurry of white dresses and tacky nail extensions crashed into the cake, I snapped my masterpiece shot. Like a Baroque painting, “Battle of the Boy Moms.”