My youngest son will embark on the sea of matrimony in 11 more days. His wedding will be one, albeit the most important one, of the estimated 2.21 million performed in the United States this year.

Furthermore, I'm no longer just a mom; I'm, ahem, the Mother of the Groom. So what exactly does that mean, inquiring minds (such as mine) want to know. All I have to do, according to the time-honored bromide, is "show up, shut up and wear beige."

Hundreds of books, magazines and sites on the World Wide Web are ready, willing and able to instruct the Mother of the Bride (and other interested parties) in preparing "the perfect wedding." In this nation alone, more than $72 billion per year is spent on celebrations of holy wedlock.

These days, the average wedding takes a year to plan, and the price tag, according to various studies by the Wedding Report, the Fairchild Bridal Group, and the Conde Nast Bridal Group, is rapidly approaching $30,000 — up 100 percent since 1990, when the total came to $15,208.

Of course, economics varies significantly from region to region. According to Richard Markel, president of the Association for Wedding Professionals International, in the exclusive suburbs of Long Island, N.Y., the tab routinely reaches $40,000 to $50,000, while a storybook wedding can be obtained for a mere $12,000 in Walla Walla, Wash.

Averages for essential big-ticket items include $5,570 for the engagement ring, $2,570 for photography and/or videography, $3,197 for music, $2,048 for flowers, $2,938 for booze, $1,564 for a dress (worn only once), and $3,825 for a seven- to nine-day honeymoon. The real bargain is the $698 fee for the officiator and site rental — 80 percent of nuptials are performed in either a church or synagogue.

You may be surprised to learn that not all families are forced to hock the homestead when one or more female offspring decides to say, "I do." According to Bride's Magazine, only 17 percent of future wives will count on mom and dad to pick up the tab, a substantial drop since 2006, when 30 percent of all brides' parents paid for the entire enchilada.

Since the 71 million males and females in the Echo Boom generation are not in a very big hurry to head to the altar — today's dewy-eyed brides and grooms tend to be a bit long in the tooth, averaging 27 and 29 years of age, respectively — and since, as a couple, they tend to pull down a combined income of $51,000 per annum, the newlyweds are the ones most likely to write out a check to the wedding planner, caterer, bandleader and florist.

Many couples are also opting to save a few bucks — to pop in that piggy bank marked "Home of Our Own" — by paring down guest lists, eighty-sixing the $690 stretch limo, printing out invitations on their own computers, Googling sites that teach the fine arts of arranging flowers or crafting wedding favors, purchasing "gently worn" wedding gowns or replacing the high-priced DJ with an iPod.

But, the other side of the ledger will be considered as well, namely the loot to be collected. Newlyweds receive an average of 200 gifts, each valued between $70 and $100. Some couples actually demand cash.

So for what big-ticket item/s are the groom's parents responsible? As far as I can tell, consulting all manner of etiquette books, the rehearsal dinner — for which the average charge is $1,153 — is our only obligation.

Angie and Trevor, our extremely considerate bride and groom-to-be, told us that they just wanted to keep it simple — a hot dog and hamburger cookout in a park would be their idea of a perfect rehearsal dinner.

I was thrilled. "This is going to be (pun intended) a piece of cake," I observed.

Not quite.

A handful of complications cropped up to challenge my creativity and composure.

First, the couple are not tying the knot in Ventura County, where I know all the parks. They are getting married in Kansas City.

Second, the weather is likely to be 90-degree heat with 90 percent humidity.

Third, we are talking about Labor Day Weekend — all the shaded shelters have been reserved for months.

Fourth, one-third of the guests are either practicing vegans or vegetarians.

And fifth, did I mention that Kansas City is approximately 1,293 miles away?

It was my husband who managed to provide words of comfort and cheer: "This is why," he paused for effect, "God invented event planners."

And he is right. So I'm going to write out a check — for nothing near the national average for rehearsal dinners — and I'm going to show up and shut up.

But I refuse to wear beige.

— Beverly Kelley, Ph.D., who writes every other week for The Star, is an author ("Reelpolitik" and "Reelpolitik II") and professor in the Communication Department at California Lutheran University. Visit http://beverlykelley.typepad.com/my_weblog/. Her e-mail address is Kelley@clunet.edu.