My spouse and I have always been clear with our children about what we’re willing to fund when it comes to weddings. We’re happy to pay for the celebration, but there are a few rules that we ask to be followed. All relatives must be invited—exceptions are only for serious conflicts or unavoidable issues. The ceremony cannot be a destination event; we’ve always wanted weddings to be accessible for all family members, so flying overseas is out of the question. Immediate family members receive a plus one, even if they’re not currently dating anyone.
Honestly, we’ve never thought these rules were very difficult. They’re straightforward, meant to keep family cohesion, and ensure everyone feels included.
Our daughter, Emily (31F), is marrying Dana (34F). They’ve already chosen a venue and started putting together a guest list. Both of them know the conditions if they want us to pay for the wedding.
Yesterday, Emily told me that the wedding will be adults only.
I was immediately concerned because this violates one of the requirements we set: all family must be invited—including children. I sat down with her to explain this. I didn’t lecture or try to be controlling; I just reminded her of the conditions we had discussed long before she even got engaged.
Emily tried to convince me to still fund the wedding even if it was child-free. She said she wanted an “elegant atmosphere,” and that Dana doesn’t like kids very much. Dana experienced parentification growing up—taking care of siblings and household responsibilities at a young age—which understandably left her with complicated feelings toward children. Emily told me that she wanted the adults-only environment for the comfort of the couple and the guests.
I listened carefully, trying to understand their point of view. I told Emily I would think about it. But after discussing with my spouse, I reached a final decision: I would not pay for the wedding if it remained adults-only. I explained to both of them that they were free to have the wedding they want, but we would not be funding it under these circumstances.
The reaction was immediate. Emily was angry, feeling that the decision was unfair. She pointed out that her siblings had their weddings fully funded. I reminded her that her siblings followed the rules we set. They had included all family, allowed children, and adhered to the conditions we made clear from the start.
Emily’s frustration quickly escalated. She told me it felt like a punishment and that I was being unreasonable. Dana didn’t say much at first, but I could see she was quietly upset too. I tried to frame it calmly: “We’re not saying your wedding can’t happen or that you can’t have it the way you want. You’re free to make any choices. We just won’t be funding it if you decide to exclude children.”
Emily then started to argue about fairness, saying that weddings are a once-in-a-lifetime event and that parents should be flexible, especially when children don’t affect the overall planning significantly. She insisted that an adults-only environment wouldn’t harm anyone, and that the atmosphere would be more refined for everyone.
I sympathized but stood firm. I explained: “We are willing to fund weddings if the conditions we set are followed. The rules were explained in advance to every child. If one child chooses not to follow them, it’s not a judgment of the couple—it’s simply our boundary. The conditions are the same for everyone.”
Emily paused but was still visibly upset. “It just feels like favoritism,” she said. “You’ve already paid for my siblings’ weddings, why should I be penalized?”
I took a deep breath. “It’s not favoritism. Your siblings followed the rules. This isn’t about comparison—it’s about whether the conditions we set are respected. We set expectations before any engagement, before any wedding plans. The only difference here is that you want something different. That’s your choice—but it affects whether we participate financially.”
Dana finally spoke. “I understand your rules, but it’s hard. Emily and I have been looking forward to a wedding where everyone feels comfortable. Children running around is just… not what we envisioned. It’s stressful.”
I nodded. “I get that, Dana. I truly do. But I also hope you understand our perspective. The rules are consistent. If we fund weddings without these conditions, it undermines everything we’ve communicated to our other children. It’s not personal—it’s a principle.”
Emily tried one last argument. “But parents should support their children! Isn’t this supposed to be a celebration of love and family? You’re making money the deciding factor, not love!”
I explained gently: “This isn’t about the money itself. We are happy to cover the cost—we are saying yes to funding under conditions. The principle of including family and children was something we agreed on from the start. If you decide to do otherwise, that’s your choice, and you can absolutely have the wedding you want. It just won’t be funded by us.”
After that conversation, both Emily and Dana were visibly upset. Emily texted later that evening: “I feel hurt and disappointed. I can’t believe you won’t support me after everything.” I responded with care, reiterating that our stance isn’t about withholding love or support—it’s about maintaining fairness and consistency.
Over the next few days, the tension in the family increased. Other siblings and relatives started weighing in. Some were sympathetic to Emily, feeling that parents should be flexible for the happiness of the couple. Others sided with us, pointing out that expectations were clear and that bending the rules for one child would be unfair to the others.
I had several private conversations with my spouse during this period. We both agreed: the principle of consistency is important. If we paid for an adults-only wedding now, it would set a precedent that any future weddings could ignore the rules and still be funded. It wasn’t about the cost—it was about fairness and clarity.
Meanwhile, Emily became distant. She seemed to measure every conversation for signs of judgment or criticism. Dana was caught in the middle, trying not to upset Emily further, while also navigating her own feelings about family and expectations. I could see their stress and disappointment, and it hurt. But bending the rules would only complicate matters later.
We reached a compromise of sorts: we offered to help in other ways that didn’t involve paying the full cost. We offered guidance on budgeting, vendor recommendations, and even some practical help with planning. We wanted to support them emotionally and logistically without breaking our principle.
The process wasn’t easy. Family members expressed frustration, friends weighed in, and social media commentary—though well-intentioned—made things feel heavier. I realized that maintaining consistency sometimes comes at the cost of temporary family tension. It’s not about being rigid or unloving; it’s about ensuring fairness and clarity across all children.
As the wedding date approaches, Emily and Dana have decided to fund parts of the wedding themselves. They’ve scaled the budget to fit what they can pay, and they’re including all family members, including children. It’s not the adults-only wedding they initially wanted, but it’s a compromise that preserves family harmony and allows parents to contribute in accordance with their principles.
Reflecting on this experience, I understand why Emily felt frustrated. Weddings are emotional, once-in-a-lifetime events, and people want everything to go perfectly. I also understand Dana’s perspective. But rules and expectations—especially when communicated clearly in advance—help prevent misunderstandings and feelings of favoritism. Boundaries don’t negate love; they provide structure and fairness, which can actually make celebrations stronger and relationships more resilient.